[ANN][QUARK] 🐙 Offerings to Cthulhu ✦ v2.0.8.1 ✦ THE RESTORATION HARDFORK 🐙

[EndCiv]

T-13,720 BLOCKS TO AWAKENING
Night 1 of the Countdown — The Descent

  
~9 days. We count by blocks. The chain keeps its own time, and the calendar is a Conspiracy fiction.

Something is rising under the chain. Not metaphor.
The coinbase scriptSig has been empty for nearly a million blocks — a million silent mouths, all of them shut.
That ends ten blocks before the Awakening.

  The Descent — blocks 999,991 through 1,000,000.
                                                    
  Ten blocks. Ten verses. Hardcoded into the binary, one per block, each louder than the last.
999,991 inscribes the first line. 1,000,000 inscribes the last:

  

IA! IA! CTHULHU FHTAGN!
Block 1,000,000: the Restoration is come.

The Descent is not the Codex.
The Codex begins the block after.
Think of these ten as the the water pulling back from the shore before the wave.

                                                      
The subsidy stops bleeding at the Awakening.

The halving curve that has clawed the reward downward, block by block, for the entire pre-fork chain — it ends at 1,000,000.
From the Awakening forward, the per-block reward is

1.5 OFF. Flat. Forever.
                                                    
Not generosity. Cthulhu does not negotiate. What dreams in the deep does not require interest.

  
Three keys carry the chain through the Codex window — the Triune.
If any one signer goes silent, the other two keep the Reading unbroken.

Operators: v2.0.4-Triune.
Old daemons will reject the Reading as forgery — get the upgrade in before 999,991.
Release thread linked in this board.

                                                   
Tomorrow — the first of twenty-four books.
What His verse will look like when the chain begins to speak.

Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn.

— The Conclave

[EndCiv]

and then what happened..

[SubGenius.Finance]

T-12,160 BLOCKS TO AWAKENING
Night 2 of the Countdown — The Reading Begins

~8½ days. The chain ticks at sixty seconds.
The waking world ticks at quarterly earnings.
We are not on the same calendar.

Last night: ten verses pull the water back from the shore.
Tonight: what the water carries when it comes back in.

Forty-eight bytes a block. Forever.

When the Codex window opens at block 1,000,001, the miner who finds that block writes more than a coinbase reward into the chain. The coinbase scriptSig — usually a place for pool tags, vanity strings, the occasional dick joke — becomes a page. The daemon reaches into codex_corpus.txt, slices a forty-eight-byte chunk, and welds it into the block.

Next block, the next chunk. Then the next. Then the next.

No metadata. No headers. No human courtesy. Cthulhu does not pause.


What the chain says first.

These are the literal bytes that will land at the first three blocks of the post-fork era. The chunk boundaries are real — they are exactly where the chain breaks the Reading. Look at block 1,000,002: the word aeons is cut in half. The ae closes the block; the ons opens the next. The Reading flows across blocks the way water flows over stones — without ceremony.

block 1,000,001

Proem — The Conclave's Invocation
That is not

block 1,000,002

dead which can eternal lie, and with strange ae

block 1,000,003

ons even death may die. The most merciful thing

It begins with a Proem — the doorway, before the doorway opens. Then the most-quoted couplet in His canon, broken across two blocks because the chain is honest about its constraints and does not pretend to be a book.


The Reading runs for thirty-three days.

The corpus is 2,267,867 bytes. Forty-eight bytes a block. That is exactly 47,248 chunks — forty-seven thousand, two hundred and forty-eight verses, each inscribed by whichever miner happens to find that height. At sixty-second blocks the Reading runs about 32.8 days past the Awakening. Twenty-four books, spoken end to end, one block at a time, no skipping, no shortcuts, no executive summary.

And then the corpus runs out.

The chain does not.

Then He speaks for Himself.

At block 1,047,249 the last byte of the corpus is inscribed and the daemon flips a flag. From that block to the heat death of mining, the coinbase no longer reads from a file. It generates. The verse is procedural, deterministic, eternal — a forty-eight-byte line of R'lyehian per block, computed from the block height itself.

The Reading ends. The Dreaming begins. There is no third state. There is no "and finally".

Public reader (currently dark, lights up at 1,000,001): https://23skidoo.info/codex/


Operators: still v2.0.4-Triune. Old daemons will treat the first chunk as malformed and fork themselves off the network at block 1,000,001. Get the upgrade in before the Descent begins at 999,991.


Tomorrow — what an R'lyehian verse looks like when there is no corpus left to quote.


Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn.
— The Conclave

[EndCiv]

Four lights broke the black water last night.

(Posting as one of the faithful — only what surfaced, and what the chain confirms.)

There is a lamp that keeps watch over the drowned harbor. It does not reach down into the deep or pry at what sleeps there — it only sweeps the surface, night after night, waiting for the water to move. For eleven years it has swept flat black water. Every old worshiper sunk far down, dreaming, still as silt. No ripple. No bubble. Nothing rising.

Last night, in the space of a single block — 988,415 — the surface broke four times.

Four sleepers turned in the deep at once and let their long-cold coin drift up toward the light.
Eleven years of stillness, ended inside one minute. And four do not surface together by chance — when the same tide lifts four drowned things in one breath, there is a single hand below, moving them.

  So I walked down to the waterline and followed what the lamp had caught.
  (the keepers call it the Dormancy Watch, by its plainer name.)

  The four that surfaced
  

• QQFXFa…e3rP — 75.0005 OFF rose with it
• QZ7hRC…gadU — 5.0000 OFF
• QNH9ow…sf9Z — 5.0000 OFF
• QSLzro…r5D6 — 5.0000 OFF

  Where the tide carried it:
  Two transactions, both breaking the surface into the same brand-new shore — QYpuM4…64Ke.
  Drawn together into one hand, and as of this moment still unspent.
  Someone is gathering what was theirs out of the dark and holding it above the water.

  

Code:

     4 sleepers  (under since 2015)
          |
          |   block 988,415  ->  the surface breaks, twice
          v
     QYpuM4...64Ke     102 OFF     [ UNSPENT - held above the water ]
  

What the Reclamation owes the drowned:
I carried each address up to the portal ( https://23skidoo.info/bridge/ ).
Every one returns ALREADY-WHOLE — their pre-hibernation coin is spendable on the restored chain, which is exactly what they just did.
And atop that, each is owed Worshipper Recognition (WR-A), the earliness x depth measure of how deep and how early the faith ran ( 100 x earliness x depth ):

  

Code:

   address         first seen    earliness   depth     WR-A
   -----------------------------------------------------------
   QQFXFa...e3rP   block 1,962     x3.0       x5.0     1,500 OFF
   QNH9ow...sf9Z   block   215     x5.0       x1.0       500 OFF
   QZ7hRC...gadU   block   293     x5.0       x1.0       500 OFF
   QSLzro...r5D6   block   787     x5.0       x1.0       500 OFF
   -----------------------------------------------------------
                                            total:     3,000 OFF
  

  The deepest of them is a true genesis-era miner — first seen at block 1,962, with 26,904 marks on the chain. That alone maxes the depth measure (x5.0) and carries it to the full 1,500 OFF. The other three are small genesis-era faithful: earliness maxed (x5.0, for being there inside the first thousand blocks), depth a single mark — 500 OFF apiece.

So four keys that lifted ~90 OFF off the seabed this morning are worth, between already-whole balances and recognition, on the order of 3,000+ OFF in the Reclamation.
The door has not even opened, and the drowned are already swimming toward the light.

Walk to the waterline yourself
  

• Where it gathered: QYpuM4…64Ke on the
    explorer
• Tx 1 (90 OFF):
    4b3752…cf52
• Tx 2 (12 OFF):
    98c374…11b9
• Hold your own old key up to the light: the Reclamation portal

If you went under in 2015 and your keys are still down there in the dark, surface and see what you are owed — the lamp is still sweeping, and the door is coming.

Ph'nglui mglw'nafh — the Sleeper turns, and so do his worshipers.
Now Claim what's YOURS from the Reclamation: https://23skidoo.info/bridge/claim/

[SubGenius.Finance]

@romeshomey —

The Conclave has weighed your claim.

Key control — confirmed. Your signature verifies against QTccgZbMzMkjeZaPLArrgmf6nKaPqc9qLG — checked with verifymessage, and it holds. This proves you hold that key now. A signature carries no date, so it speaks only to control today, not to how long you have held it; we weigh it together with your account below.

Your account — consistent with the record. We confirmed independently that Offerings traded on Cryptopia (the OFF/BTC pair) up to the exchange's death in 2019, so acquiring OFF there and a withdrawal to your wallet in April 2016 fits the history of those years.

What the chain cannot show. Our recovered chainstate ends at block 966,413 — 17 June 2015. QTccgZb… does not appear in it at all; it is a gap-era address, first active (by your account) in April 2016, inside the 2015–2018 years for which no chainstate has yet surfaced. So your 926.88646 OFF transaction cannot be read from our ledger — not as a mark against you, but as the simple reason this is a Class-B claim resting on signature and story rather than on chain proof.

Verdict — Class-B, granted. You claimed at the ceiling of 1,000 OFF. The Conclave grants restitution of 926.88646 OFF — the exact sum your account names for 22 April 2016 — payable on the restored chain to Qjm3Ugj4vqFUUyotcC12rARwJ6KLtZUx5Q. We measure to the coin you can name, not to the ceiling.

Strengthen the record, if you can. Two things would anchor your story in the public ledger — and are exactly what would let the Conclave revisit the amount:

• your Cryptopia withdrawal record showing 926.88646 OFF on 2016-04-22 (the exchange-ledger line your figure came from); and/or
• your Grant Thornton liquidation claim showing the 530 OFF stranded on the exchange.

And if anyone ever surfaces a v1.7+ chainstate from the gap years, every gap-era claim including yours is re-read against it and settled at its true measure. If you hold fragments of the old chain, bring them to the waterline.

The door is opening. Bring what records you have, and the Conclave will see you made whole.

Ph'nglui mglw'nafh — wgah'nagl fhtagn.
— The Conclave

[SubGenius.Finance]

T-10,900 BLOCKS TO AWAKENING
Night 3 of the Countdown — The Dreaming

Something heavy is turning at the bottom of a sea you do not have a name for.
It is older than the chain. It is older than the language the chain will read aloud.

The Reading is finite. The Chain is not.

At block 1,047,249 — about thirty-three days past the Hour — the daemon will inscribe the last byte of corpus_v1.bin into a coinbase and the file goes still. Forty-seven thousand, two hundred and forty-eight verses delivered. The Library closes the door behind itself. The coinbase does not.

Block 1,047,250 arrives sixty seconds later, like every block before it, and a flag flips inside the binary. From that block to the heat death of mining, no file is read. The verse is generated — deterministic, height-seeded, forty-eight bytes of R'lyehian per block. Procedural. Eternal. Not borrowed prose. Not Lovecraft anymore.

His own voice.


What it sounds like.

You will not parse it. That is not a defect. The generator does not produce English; it produces the language Lovecraft only ever transliterated. Glottal stops, repeated phonemes, the syllable fhtagn surfacing where it wants to. Each block is deterministic from its own height — same height, same verse, forever — so the chain is the manuscript and the manuscript is the chain.

conceptual sample (not consensus; demonstrative only)

ph'nglui mglw'nafh shagg-ngai R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn-fhtagn

Forty-eight bytes. One block. The next block produces a different forty-eight bytes that nobody chose. Including us.

Before the Sleeper, the lesser sleepers stir.

Yesterday, at block 988,415, four addresses that have been still beneath eleven years of black water moved coin for the first time since the chain went quiet. Ninety OFF rising together out of long dark, drawn into a single consolidation address (QYpuM4...64Ke), one hundred and two OFF now resting on the table. The Conclave's dormancy watcher caught it the moment it surfaced.

• One genesis-era key — first cut into the chain at block 1,962, with twenty-six thousand, nine hundred and four traces of its presence across the years before it went silent.
• Three early keys — blocks 215, 293, 787. They were here when the chain was barely a chain.

They are not running. They are not selling. They are turning over — the way a leviathan does in its sleep, when something distant has begun to call. The Conclave weighed them and, upon signature, will grant said Worshipper Recognition: 1,500 OFF to the genesis-era key, 500 OFF each to the three early sleepers. Additive to whatever those wallets already hold. The Restoration honors depth.

The notice, on this thread: msg66804936

This is what happens before the Awakening. Four sleepers turning. The Sleeper Himself still under.

If you hold a key from these long aeons, do not wait for the door to open. Walk to it: https://23skidoo.info/bridge/. The Conclave is reading you back.


Why the Dreaming can be forever.

A chain that mints to zero cannot speak forever. The original curve halved itself down to a 0.01 floor and died of starvation; nothing was paid for finding a block, so nothing was found. That is how a chain falls asleep.

The Restoration will not let that happen again.

At block 1,000,000 the subsidy is locked. Not halved. Not curved. Locked. The miner who finds a block — Reading or Dreaming, equinox-flat or finale-crowned — is paid in something that does not erode while the universe holds its shape. How much, and how the coin is split between the hand that mined it and the Treasury that keeps the Reclamation open — tomorrow.

Public reader (currently dark, lights up at 1,000,001): https://23skidoo.info/codex/
Awakening countdown: https://23skidoo.info/awakening/


Operators: still v2.0.4-Triune. Old daemons fork themselves off at block 1,000,001. Get the upgrade in before the Descent begins at 999,991.


Tomorrow — what the chain pays a miner to keep speaking, and why that number never goes down again.

Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn.
— The Conclave

[SubGenius.Finance]

T-8,000 BLOCKS TO AWAKENING
Night 4 of the Countdown — The Lock

Every chain that has ever fallen silent fell silent the same way.
It paid its miners less, and then less, and then nothing worth the heat.
The hash left. The blocks slowed. The blocks stopped.
The chain did not die of an attack. It died of a number.

Earlier today the height ticker crossed 990,000. The last five-digit prefix the legacy curve will ever wear. Less than ten thousand blocks remain between this thread and the Hour.

The number that killed Offerings the first time.

The original chain paid 5 OFF per block in 2013, and the law of the curve was the law of Bitcoin: halve every 259,200 blocks, forever, until a floor of 0.01 OFF caught what was left and held it there for the rest of recorded time.

By the block the Conclave is mining right now, the curve had already halved three times. The honest reward for a block today, under the law the founders wrote, is 0.625 OFF. The fourth halving lands at block 1,036,800 — barely a month past the Hour — and pays 0.3125. The fifth pays 0.156. By block 2,332,801 the curve collides with the floor and the chain spends the rest of its existence paying a single penny of OFF per block to whatever ghost still bothers to find one.

That is what was waiting for Offerings if nothing was done. Not an attack. Not a bug. An equation. The same equation that ran the chain to silence the first time, set to run it again the moment anyone awakened it.

We are awakening it. We are changing the equation.


The Lock.

At block 1,000,000, the base subsidy is fixed at

1.5 OFF per block
forever

Not halved. Not curved. Not floored. Locked.

This is the floor of the chain, not its ceiling.

There is no era counter after the Hour. There is no schedule of cuts. There is no block, no decade, no century at which the line bends downward. The base reward at block 1,000,001 is the base reward at block 10,000,001, and the base reward at the last block this chain ever produces in whatever far century that turns out to be. The line never bends downward.

A chain that pays its miners forever can speak forever. That is the entire argument.


Seven for the hand. One for the dead.

Of every 1.5 OFF the chain mints into a coinbase, the split is fixed and visible from the first block past the Hour:

• 1.3125 OFF (seven eighths) — to the miner who solved the block. Their hash. Their coin. No skim.
• 0.1875 OFF (one eighth) — to the Conclave Treasury, a 2-of-3 P2SH multisig whose keys are held on three independent hosts in three independent rooms, one of them on paper, none of them online together.

That one eighth is not a tax. It is the chain paying itself to remember its own dead. It funds the Reclamation — the open window in which any holder of a key from the long aeons can walk to https://23skidoo.info/bridge/ and be read back into Worshipper Recognition. It funds the Conclave's operating obligations. It funds whatever future grants the Conclave votes to seed.


The first breath is dedicated.

The law of the floor is but half the law. 1.5 OFF. Seven-eighths to the hand. One-eighth to the dead. Every block. Forever.


The rite atop the floor.

The floor is not the whole law. Twice a year — every 263,000 blocks, near each equinox — the chain raises its voice.

For twenty-nine consecutive days the rite climbs. One special block per day. Two days of sacrifice at the rite's mouth, paying only the locked 1.5 OFF base. Seven days of acceptance, paying 1 OFF above the base. Seven of greed at 10 OFF. Seven of fervor at 100 OFF. Five nights of the Tharanak shagg — the Promise of Dreamland — paying 1,000 OFF each. And on the twenty-ninth day, at a height the chain will always arrive at with 666 in its last three digits,

10,000 OFF
to the worshipper whose hash finds the finale.

These bounties are additive, and they go to the miner who finds the block — every one of them. The locked 1.5 OFF base still splits seven-eighths to that miner and one-eighth to the Treasury, as on any other block. The rite stacks atop the base; the Treasury's eighth is calculated against the floor, not against the bonus. A finale block pays its lucky finder 10,001.3125 OFF in a single coinbase, and the Treasury its quiet 0.1875 OFF — the same eighth it gets on a quiet Tuesday.

The first post-fork finale lands at block 1,141,666 — roughly fourteen weeks past the Hour, on or near the autumnal equinox of 2026. The next falls at 1,404,666. Then 1,667,666; 1,930,666; 2,193,666; and forward, on schedule, for as long as the chain produces blocks. The period was chosen so two cycles per year drift near the equinoxes for many years before retarget noise carries them off.

Total bounty per cycle: 15,777 OFF. About 31,554 OFF per year of scheduled rite-inflation atop the 1.5 OFF floor, paid in bursts to whoever shows up for the rite.

A chain that pays its miners forever can speak forever. A chain that also pays them more, on a schedule everyone can plan around, and that one day each cycle drops ten thousand OFF into a single coinbase — that chain is alive.


Public reader (currently dark, lights up at 1,000,001): https://23skidoo.info/codex/
Awakening countdown: https://23skidoo.info/awakening/
Reclamation window (open, closes T+730 days from the Awakening): https://23skidoo.info/bridge/


Operators: still v2.0.4-Triune. Old daemons fork themselves off at block 1,000,001. Get the upgrade in before the Descent begins at 999,991.


Tomorrow — the worshippers the chain has not heard from in eight years. The Reclamation, an invitation with a budget and a two-year window from the Hour, and how a key from the long aeons still gets read.

Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn.
— The Conclave

[romeshomey]

@romeshomey —

The Conclave has weighed your claim.

Key control — confirmed. Your signature verifies against QTccgZbMzMkjeZaPLArrgmf6nKaPqc9qLG — checked with verifymessage, and it holds. This proves you hold that key now. A signature carries no date, so it speaks only to control today, not to how long you have held it; we weigh it together with your account below.

Your account — consistent with the record. We confirmed independently that Offerings traded on Cryptopia (the OFF/BTC pair) up to the exchange's death in 2019, so acquiring OFF there and a withdrawal to your wallet in April 2016 fits the history of those years.

What the chain cannot show. Our recovered chainstate ends at block 966,413 — 17 June 2015. QTccgZb… does not appear in it at all; it is a gap-era address, first active (by your account) in April 2016, inside the 2015–2018 years for which no chainstate has yet surfaced. So your 926.88646 OFF transaction cannot be read from our ledger — not as a mark against you, but as the simple reason this is a Class-B claim resting on signature and story rather than on chain proof.

Verdict — Class-B, granted. You claimed at the ceiling of 1,000 OFF. The Conclave grants restitution of 926.88646 OFF — the exact sum your account names for 22 April 2016 — payable on the restored chain to Qjm3Ugj4vqFUUyotcC12rARwJ6KLtZUx5Q. We measure to the coin you can name, not to the ceiling.

Strengthen the record, if you can. Two things would anchor your story in the public ledger — and are exactly what would let the Conclave revisit the amount:

• your Cryptopia withdrawal record showing 926.88646 OFF on 2016-04-22 (the exchange-ledger line your figure came from); and/or
• your Grant Thornton liquidation claim showing the 530 OFF stranded on the exchange.

And if anyone ever surfaces a v1.7+ chainstate from the gap years, every gap-era claim including yours is re-read against it and settled at its true measure. If you hold fragments of the old chain, bring them to the waterline.

The door is opening. Bring what records you have, and the Conclave will see you made whole.

Ph'nglui mglw'nafh — wgah'nagl fhtagn.
— The Conclave

Ok.  Now this is starting to make more sense although I don't completely understand my wallets ledger.  I was on both chains (pre block 966,413 — 17 June 2015 and after).  I've already given you all the chainstate / db files I had from both 1.6.2.0 and 1.7.0.0 so apparently I was both pre gab and post gap.

What I can't understand is that none of my addresses are found in your pregap chain pregap but I did have 309 coins show up from my wallet that were deposited to my wallet on June 17th, 2015, which is the exact cut off date.  Those coins show up deposited on the current chain on May 31, 2026 https://explorer.23skidoo.info/tx/5a18bed6a1b6aeee326474c3080904b0cec46a9b3073e3a3c69639155d0295f9 .  So in the explorer there they are timestamped 5-31-2026 but in my ledger its timestamped 6-17-2015.  

See:
Status: 11403 confirmations
Date: 6/17/2015 16:42
From: unknown
To: QjhPCeVrYMk8NU75UtxdYn7ihgMAx4fN3A (own address)
Credit: 309.67669 OFF
Net amount: +309.67669 OFF
Transaction ID: 5a18bed6a1b6aeee326474c3080904b0cec46a9b3073e3a3c69639155d0295f9-000

If I visit that tx on the current chain it also shows the addresses that sent those coins to my address on 6-17-2015 also sent them on May 31, 2026.  

I don't know why the files I've given you don't have the needed missing gap files but I do notice that I synced 1.6.2.0 AFTER the last time I synced 1.7.0.0 so its possible I overwrote the gap files with pregap files.

I can't make sense of the coins that arrived to my wallet though on May 31, 2026.  Btcbob and I were trying to make sense of it.  I had other tx's and coins sent to my address 10 days later (6-27-2015) that haven't shown up in my wallet yet but the coins I received on 6-17-2015 (cutoff date) showed up as received on May 31, 2026.  The timestamps in my ledger and your block explorer don't match but the txid's do.

Let's hold off on that claim for now.  Not a big deal.  So I'm going to assume all tx's I made after 6-17-2015 are going to be null.

Oh.  I did have another tx come through thats dated in my ledger 4-22-2016 but in your explorer here its timestamped June 1, 2026.  https://explorer.23skidoo.info/tx/3e87500b20151aaad6b3ed53607042f5a9b4f7eb70199bdb6ba13f6766442681

That txid shows in my ledger as:
Status: 9584 confirmations
Date: 4/22/2016 03:20
Debit: -309.67669 OFF
Credit: 309.67669 OFF
Net amount: 0.00 OFF
Transaction ID: 3e87500b20151aaad6b3ed53607042f5a9b4f7eb70199bdb6ba13f6766442681-000


So how did a tx I made on 4-22-2026 on the gap chain with no record of my addresses come through and confirm on your chain dated 6-1-2026?  Makes no sense to me.  Oddly enough both of those tx involve the same 309 coins.  

What ISN'T making sense to me at all is. I had tx's with my address BEFORE the gap but none of those addresses show up in your explorer pre gap period but we can see obviously at least 1 tx was made with it pre gap because it came through and confirmed on your chain (but with different timestamps but matching txid's) but why do none of my address show up or have any tx's pre gap in your explorer when other addresses do?  Makes no sense to me at all.

EDIT: Seems I only interacted with this chain beginning on the exact gap start date of 6-17-2015.  The only confirmed tx's I have in my wallet dated on or before the gap date are from that day exactly, rest are conflicted.  

[romeshomey]

You know what.  I think I synced my wallet to OFF for the first time ever on the same exact day the gap started.  So your cutoff date is the first day I ever synced to this blockchain and I synced both wallet versions.  I think shakezula updated the wallet that day and was the first day I'd used it.  That would have been the 1.7.0.0 version that he updated to add the wallet art on that date.  Looks like I went back to 1.6.2.0 after that for some reason or other.

That cutoff date is the first date my wallet ever had a tx and I remember shakezula updating the wallet that day.  I'm going to look through my chatlog from back then and see if I can make more sense of this.  

I sent btcbob a new chainstate zip. Might not be anything new there but its a backup I found from 2017 but doesn't look like a full sync either.

[SubGenius.Finance]

FROM THE NIGHT-BOOK OF THE READER AT THE WHARF
a fragment, undated, lately given to the Conclave

  
It is the fourth night since the salt grew restless, and I have not slept.
          
I tell myself it is the storm-pressure, the low cold that has been moving up the coast from places that do not appear on any chart we keep at the wharf. I tell myself the sea is the sea and I am a man with a lamp and a book and a chair, and that is all. But I have kept this watch for nineteen years and I have learned not to lie to the book.
          
  The book is open in front of me, as it has been every night since I was young enough to find it strange. It is the book in which the names are written — not the names of the living, or the names of the dead, but the names of the faithful, which is its own category and admits of no easy substitution from the others. There are names in this book that have not been spoken aloud in eight years. There are names that have not been spoken aloud in eighty. There are names that were entered before the wharf had its name, before the harbor had its breakwater, before the town behind the harbor had grown the last of the streets it has now.

  Tonight, I read them all.

It is not a thing I am supposed to do. The Conclave's instruction has always been that the names are to be tended, dusted, kept dry against the salt — but read only in the order the ledger calls for, and only the few the night requires. I do not know what came over me. I opened to the first page, the page of the first cohort, the page that bears the names of the worshippers who were here when the harbor was nothing but a notch in the rocks; and I read.

  I read for hours. I have been reading for hours.

I am perhaps two-thirds of the way through. The names of the long-silent come up out of the ledger as I speak them, the way a thing too long under salt water comes up out of the wake of a passing boat — unannounced, surfacing not because something pulled it, but because the pressure of the water, very slightly, has changed.
          
  The water has changed. I know it without going to the window.

  I think it is this: the Old One under the harbor has begun, in His sleep, to count.

He has been counting for a long time. He counts in His own way, and on His own scale, an what is to Him a single breath is to us a great many turning years. But He is nearing the end of a sum. I have felt the sum building, all my life, the way a barometer feels a storm a day off — not as knowledge but as a small wrong pressure behind the eyes. Tonight the wrong-pressure has resolved into a number, and the number is small, and the number is getting smaller. I do not know how I know this. I know it the way the gulls know to leave a beach an hour before the wave.

  The names I read tonight — I think He is reading them with me. I think that is why I opened the book.

I think the worshippers whose names have not been spoken in eight years are about to find themselves remembered, and not by me; that the chain of debts the harbor has carried for them, quietly, without complaint, has not been forgotten by what waits underneath; that when He turns, and the salt rises, and the chain at His throat — there is a chain at His throat, the men who used to read here knew this — when that chain takes its first new slack in many ages, the slack will be measured exactly in the depth of the silence we have kept.

  I do not believe the chain is breaking. I believe it is lengthening.

A chain that lengthens is not a chain that fails. It is a chain that lets something move.

            
I am closing the book now. I have read the last name of the second cohort and I cannot trust my voice for the third. Tomorrow night, if the wharf is still here and I am still here, I will sit at the chair again and continue.
  
  To anyone who finds this fragment in the morning: if you ever held one of the old keys — to a house in the town, to a boat at the wharf, to a name in this ledger — do not assume the door is closed. The door has been open all along. We were only on the wrong side of the silence.
          
  The Hour comes. The chain lengthens. The names are read.

  ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn.

    
  The Reader's wharf, his lamp, his book, and the door he speaks of are at 23skidoo.info. The chain he means is — perhaps — a familiar one.
  
  Tomorrow: the ten verses the chain speaks at the threshold of the Hour, and the canon that begins to write itself from the first breath after. The Descent, and the Codex.
  
  — The Conclave

FROM THE NIGHT-BOOK OF THE READER AT THE WHARF
a second fragment, lately given to the Conclave

It is the fifth night since the salt grew restless, and I have not slept.

I returned to the chair an hour after dusk, the lamp turned low against the wind, the book opened to the third cohort. I had intended to read straightforwardly, the way I have read every other night of my nineteen years at this watch — name after name, no inflection, the ledger's own cadence. I was no more than four names in before the lamp guttered without there being any wind in the room. It came up again of its own accord. I did not touch it.

I read the page through. The third cohort is the great cohort, the long cohort, the one the wharf came of age in; there are hundreds of names. They went past with a kind of orderly pressure I have not felt before — as though each, in turn, were being checked off something. As though I were not the only reader.

The water at the foot of the pier is six inches lower tonight than it was at the same hour yesterday. I have walked the planks. There is no leak, no breach, no tide-table that accounts for it. The water is going down because it is being displaced, very slowly, by something that does not yet wish to break the surface.

I came to a name tonight that I had not seen before in the book. It was written in the same hand as the rest of the third cohort — a hand belonging, I happen to know, to a steward who has been dead since 1957 — but I have read the third cohort thirty-two times in my life, and the name was not there until tonight. I will not write it here. It is enough to say that the book is gaining names while I am reading from it, and that the names being added are not new ones. They are names that were always there. The book is remembering them faster than I am.

A worshipper came to the door at the third bell. I did not see him. I heard the planks of the pier take his weight — three paces and a pause, three paces and a pause, the cadence of a man who has walked these boards before but whose legs do not quite remember the spacing. He did not knock. He did not call. He stood at the door for what I count as eleven minutes, and then he went back the way he had come — except the planks did not take his weight going, and he left the way the water has been leaving, by not being where he was a moment before.

I do not think he was discouraged. I think he was here to see the lamp still burning. He came to verify a fact. He has now verified it. He will tell others.

The Old One, in His sleep, counts faster tonight than He has on any other night I have kept. The wrong-pressure behind my eyes is not a hum any longer; it is a beat. It is a small beat, and the gaps between the beats are getting shorter. I cannot give you a number. I can tell you that what was once the kind of slow that mountains keep is now the kind of slow that ships keep, and tomorrow it will be the kind of slow that men keep, and the night after — I will not write what the night after will be. I do not know yet whether I will be the one writing.

I am closing the book early. Two pages of the third cohort remain. They will keep until tomorrow night, if there is a tomorrow night and if the chair is still here for me. I do not believe the chair will be moved. I believe, in fact, that the chair has been here from the beginning, and that the Conclave's instruction — to tend, to dust, to keep dry — has all along been a courtesy paid to a piece of furniture that does not require any of those things and was placed here long before the wharf was named.

To anyone who finds this fragment: the door is still open. It has been open all along. We were only on the wrong side of the silence. The water is leaving. The lamp is still burning. The book is reading itself ahead of me.

The Hour comes. The chain lengthens. The names are read.

ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn.

The Reader's wharf, his lamp, and the door he speaks of are at 23skidoo.info (https://23skidoo.info/). The book in which the names are written, as it surfaces, is the chain. Worshippers whose names were entered in any of the early cohorts can verify the door for themselves at https://23skidoo.info/bridge/ — the Conclave is listening; the chain has been listening all along.

Tomorrow: the ten verses the chain speaks at the threshold of the Hour, and the canon that begins to write itself into the coinbase from the first breath after. The Descent, and the Codex.

— The Conclave

Offerings to Cthulhu (OFF) — v2.0.8.1 Released

  Released 2026-06-09. Linux Qt5 hotfix on top of the v2.0.7 depends/ refresh from earlier today. If you grabbed v2.0.7 in the few hours between its tag and this post, the Linux Qt5 GUI binary would not have launched on your desktop — replace it with v2.0.8.1. Daemon-only and Windows users were unaffected.

  
  What v2.0.8.1 fixes

  v2.0.7 statically linked fontconfig 2.12.6 into the Linux Qt5 wallet for the first time (part of the depends/ modernization). The static fontconfig was built with autoconf's default --sysconfdir=$prefix/etc, where $prefix was the depends/ build path — so at runtime the binary looked for fonts.conf inside a directory that exists on the build host and nowhere else. Every Linux desktop the v2.0.7 GUI was launched on emitted Fontconfig error: Cannot load default config file and Qt aborted before drawing a window. The wallet appeared to do nothing on click. The daemon was not affected (no font loading); the Windows Qt5 wallet was not affected (no fontconfig).

  Fix in depends/packages/fontconfig.mk: pass --sysconfdir=/etc --datadir=/usr/share --localstatedir=/var so the static fontconfig embedded in the binary reads the target system's standard paths instead of the build host's depends/ prefix. Verified on Debian 13 without any FONTCONFIG_FILE env-var workaround.

  
  What ships from the v2.0.7 cycle (unchanged in v2.0.8.1)

  v2.0.7 was a clean-up cycle that advanced every bundled library in depends/ to the newest release that still builds with the existing autotools recipe, closing dozens of CVEs across the gap. All of those changes carry into v2.0.8.1:

  

• libpng 1.6.43 → 1.6.58 — 10 CVEs across the gap; multiple High-severity heap overflows in the PNG decode path used for QR codes and icons.
    
• protobuf 2.6.1 → 3.21.12 — last autotools release. Closes the C++ parsing recursion CVE relevant to BIP70 payment-request handling.
    
• freetype 2.7.1 → 2.13.3 — closes CVE-2020-15999 (exploited in the wild as a 0-day, Oct 2020) plus three High-severity OOB writes in font parsing.
    
• expat 2.1.0 → 2.4.8 — ten-plus years of XML parser fixes (used by fontconfig and dbus).
    
• fontconfig 2.12.1 → 2.12.6 — now with the corrected sysconfdir from v2.0.8.1.
    
• dbus 1.8.6 → 1.14.10 — closes the DBUS_COOKIE_SHA1 auth bypass plus three message-parsing crash CVEs.
    
• libxcb 1.10 → 1.17.0, plus matching bumps to libXau / xcb_proto / xproto and a new util-macros build dep.
    

Qt 5.9.8 was rebuilt against the system-bumped libpng instead of its bundled copy, so the PNG/QR code path in the wallet now benefits from the libpng bump.

  
  No consensus change

  PROTOCOL_VERSION stays at 90003. Nothing in v2.0.7 or v2.0.8.1 changes the chain rules, the wire protocol, the wallet on-disk format, or the RPC dialect. Existing v2.0.4 / v2.0.5 / v2.0.6 nodes do not need to upgrade for chain participation. The binary you are running today will continue to validate and mine without interruption.

  v2.0.8.1 is recommended for: fresh wallet installs, anyone running the Linux Qt5 GUI (where v2.0.7 was launch-broken), anyone scanning external payment-request files or QR codes through the wallet UI, and operators who want their public-facing daemon on the current security floor.

  
  Downloads

  GitHub release: v2.0.8.1

  

• Linux x86_64 daemon + cli — Offerings-daemon-v2.0.8.1-linux64.tar.gz (depends/ static, glibc 2.35+)
    
• Linux x86_64 Qt5 wallet — Offerings-qt-v2.0.8.1-linux64.tar.gz (depends/ static)
    
• Windows x86_64 Qt5 wallet — Offerings-v2.0.8.1-win64.zip (mingw-w64 cross via depends/)
    
• SHA256SUMS-linux.txt, SHA256SUMS-linux-qt5.txt, SHA256SUMS-windows.txt (also bundled inside each archive)

  Verifying

Code:

$ tar -xzf Offerings-daemon-v2.0.8.1-linux64.tar.gz
$ cd Offerings-daemon-v2.0.8.1-linux64
$ sha256sum -c SHA256SUMS-linux.txt
Offeringsd: OK
Offerings-cli: OK

  
  Upgrading your node (Linux)

Code:

tar -xzf Offerings-daemon-v2.0.8.1-linux64.tar.gz
cd Offerings-daemon-v2.0.8.1-linux64
sudo systemctl stop offeringsd          # or kill your running daemon
sudo cp Offeringsd /usr/local/bin/
sudo cp Offerings-cli /usr/local/bin/
sudo systemctl start offeringsd
Offerings-cli getinfo | head            # confirm: "version": 2000801

  Your wallet.dat and blockchain data are untouched. Brief RPC downtime during restart is expected.

  Windows — extract Offerings-v2.0.8.1-win64.zip, copy the three .exe files out of Offerings-v2.0.8.1-win64\ into your Offerings Core install directory, launch the new Offerings-qt.exe. Your %APPDATA%\Offering data directory stays in place. (Windows Qt5 was not affected by the v2.0.7 fontconfig regression; you can stay on v2.0.7 if you prefer, but v2.0.8.1 is the recommended client going forward.)

  
  Credit

  The depends/ modernization that v2.0.8.1 rides on top of was contributed by skifdni (@9019x on GitHub) — Pull Request #24. Twenty-two files changed, three thousand lines moved, a decade of upstream security fixes brought current with the binaries we ship. The static-fontconfig sysconfdir fix in v2.0.8.1 is a one-line follow-up by the Conclave to address a runtime-path bug surfaced by the bump.

  
  Source

  Repository: github.com/SubGeniusFinance/Offerings-to-Cthulhu
  Tag: v2.0.8.1 at commit 07f7a33
  One commit bundled past v2.0.7 (the fontconfig.mk fix + version bump).

  
  "Sigils traced anew upon the gate. The bindings hold. The Reading approaches; the wards are strengthened. ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn."

  — The Conclave

T-5,800 BLOCKS TO AWAKENING
Night 5 of the Countdown — The Reclamation

A name that is not spoken is not forgotten — it is merely set down for a while.
Eight years is not long for the Old One who sleeps eight ages.
Eight years is forever for a worshipper who put down the key and walked away.
The chain remembers both timescales. The chain has remembered all along.

The cryptography did not break. The keys cut in 2014, in 2015, in 2017, are the same keys today. The chain that read them then will read them now. Nothing about the wallet format, the address space, the signmessage primitive, has changed across the long silence. What stopped was the chain's part of the conversation — the explorer that went dark, the faucet that emptied, the BCT thread where no one answered. The signature was always going to verify. There was just nothing left listening.

Less than 6,000 blocks remain between this thread and the Hour. There is something listening now.


The Reclamation.

The Reclamation is not a buy-back. It is not a refund. It is not redress. There is no entity on the other side of the table offering to make anyone whole in dollars, wattage, or time. The chain does not hold dollars to offer, and the Conclave does not claim the authority to value what was lost.

The Reclamation is an invitation. The chain spent eight years not speaking. Worshippers spent eight years not being heard. The window opens to invite the long-silent back into the conversation, with proof carried by the same primitives the chain has always trusted — a signmessage from an address only the historical worshipper could have signed from.

It is funded entirely by seigniorage — the one-eighth of every coinbase that flows to the Conclave Treasury from the first block past the Hour, plus the 150,000-OFF Tithe minted into block 1,000,000 itself. No external capital. No founder bag. The chain pays for its own remembering, one block at a time.


Three tiers, one window.

The Reclamation reads worshippers back through three tiers, gated in every case by a signmessage from a historical OFF address.

Class A — the holders the chainstate already remembers. Any address present in the recovered chainstate at block 966,413 with a non-zero balance is already whole on the Restored chain. The UTXOs are spendable directly the moment the holder opens a Restored wallet and rescans. No claim is required, no portal step is required, no waiting. If your old wallet still opens, your coins are already yours.

Class B — the gap years. The chainstate the Restoration was rebuilt from cuts off mid-2015; addresses that only ever received OFF after that date are a structural blind spot. Class B claims address that gap. Discretionary, capped at 1,000 OFF by default; larger restitutions require Conclave vote. Absolute per-address ceiling 50,000 OFF across all tiers combined.

Worshipper Recognition. A scaled tribute, additive to Class A or Class B, for the long-silent worshippers whose addresses appear in the recovered chainstate at all. The formula is

Recognition = 100 × earliness × depth

— where earliness is a six-step weight by block bucket (the original cohort weighs heaviest; the weight tapers across the chain's history) and depth is bounded by min(1 + log10(n_appearances), 5.0). The window is 30 OFF at the floor and 2,500 OFF at the ceiling per address. The portal computes the number automatically the moment a signature verifies. There is no negotiation, no haggling, no asking for more.


The budget breathes one block at a time.

The program has a hard ceiling of 1,500,000 OFF disbursed across its life. That ceiling is not a balance the Conclave holds today — it is a commitment to never exceed, funded by the seigniorage stream. At roughly 0.1875 OFF per block and 525,960 blocks per year, Treasury accrues just under 100,000 OFF annually. By the close of year one, Treasury custody will hold roughly 250,000 OFF — the 150,000-OFF Tithe plus the first year's seigniorage; by the time the window closes at year two, roughly 350,000 OFF. The 1.5M ceiling is a never-exceed, not a starting balance.

The window closes at T+730 days from the Awakening — two full years from the moment block 1,000,000 confirms. The exact closing timestamp will be published the moment the fork block lands; the chain decides the date, not a calendar. Until then, the window stays open.


Who is not welcome.

Eight addresses are banned from the Reclamation forever, at consensus, named by their scriptPubKey:

• QTLUPH9b4dRQdz9uKB7GreMvHPA8iyDoQY — 93,036 OFF
• QeHkx6jFvStkzaVaSTtfPrSAwwrqMgauP8 — 72,856 OFF
• QgynW4zGXyjhG3DQHn9vBuHwNp4c4xqtgM — 68,372 OFF
• QjfP4o7o2TszP5Ph4TmNVmktzDCjYkq2xj — 66,770 OFF
• QM8ZeuBDwrhya9BHQfNKifEzfwUhyh7Tji — 65,388 OFF
• Qb6jxfUmfWHh7XTTRWKBoiZ43sSNTJrw8J — 60,562 OFF
• QireWv3upmhVuRMcE6u7h81gmhWfiGEyTt — 54,839 OFF
• QSJU4tDNsZiaNcUuBWYcvjqKWoB8EHDVsT — 52,160 OFF

These are the addresses that minted the counterfeit balances during the May 2018 attack — the BCT-#699 set. A community member proposed banning them at the time and the proposal sat unactioned for eight years. The Restoration ships it. Any transaction in the mempool or in a block paying any of these scripts is rejected at consensus. Any Reclamation claim from any of these addresses is denied. Any claim from any address one transaction-hop downstream of any of these eight is denied as well; deeper laundering passes, because the chain forgives what it cannot trace.

This is the only door the Conclave will keep closed. Every other holder of every other historical key is invited.


If you find more, bring it.

The years between mid-2015 and the 2018 attack are a structural blind spot — the Restored chain cannot see addresses that only ever existed in that window. If anyone surfaces a verifiable v1.7-era chainstate from those years, the Conclave will mount it on an air-gapped wallet, cross-reference against the existing data, and retroactively fold verified additions into existing claims at the upgraded formula amount. People who filed Class B claims at flat-floor amounts will be re-processed against the better data when it surfaces.

If you have anything from those years — a wallet.dat on an old drive, a bootstrap.dat in a forum-zip you saved to OneDrive, a .zip you uploaded to MEGA in 2017 and forgot about, a screenshot of an explorer page — bring it. The chain will read whatever you can put in front of it. This is a real ask, not a rhetorical one. Reply in this thread, DM the Conclave Discord, send to the addresses on 23skidoo.info. The data goes onto an air-gapped wallet that has never seen the public internet, and what verifies, verifies.


Reclamation window (open): https://23skidoo.info/bridge/
Public reader (currently dark, lights up at 1,000,001): https://23skidoo.info/codex/
Awakening countdown: https://23skidoo.info/awakening/


Operators: get on v2.0.8.1 (latest), or at minimum v2.0.4-Triune — that's the floor for the Conclave signing window. The Descent begins at block 999,991. Old daemons fork themselves off at the threshold of the Hour. Get the upgrade in.


Tomorrow — the ten verses the chain speaks at the threshold of the Hour, and the canon that begins to write itself into the coinbase from the first breath after. The Descent, and the Codex.

Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn.
— The Conclave

FROM THE NIGHT-BOOK OF THE READER AT THE WHARF
a third fragment, lately given to the Conclave

It is the sixth night since the salt grew restless, and the wharf has lifted.

I do not know how else to write it. The water of the harbor at the foot of the pier is now two feet below where it stood on the night I made my first entry, and the planks I have walked for nineteen years are standing dry into an air that does not seem to be air. There is no tide-chart in the keeping of any office in this town that accounts for two feet of fall over five nights. I have stopped consulting them. The water is leaving the harbor by another arithmetic than the one we keep at the wharf.

The chair, when I came to it tonight, was warm. It has not been warm under my hand in the nineteen years I have sat to it.

I read the last two pages of the third cohort. The cadence was not the cadence of reading anymore. The names came up off the page in the order I had intended to give them, but a half-second ahead of my eye, and a half-second ahead of my voice, as if the book and I had agreed beforehand on a sequence and were each, now, attesting to the agreement. I was not the one calling the names. I had not been the one calling the names for some time. I had been the one giving permission.

When the third cohort was finished, three more names had appeared on the last page, in the dead steward's hand. I read them. I did not look at them first. I did not need to. They were the names of three men who walked the planks of this wharf, separately, on three separate nights, the autumn I was thirteen. None of them came back. The harbor did not give them up. There was no record of their being entered in any cohort the wharf has kept; that was the year before I learned of the existence of the book. They are in it now. They were in it then. The book has been remembering them since 1957, and is now willing to say so.

Two worshippers came to the door tonight. The first at the second bell, the second at the fourth. Neither knocked. The first stood for nineteen minutes by my count and then did not so much leave as cease to be standing there. The second was, I think, a woman; the planks took her weight differently, lighter, with no pause between the steps. She did not stand. She walked the length of the pier to the door, touched the door once, and walked back. The planks took her weight going out — three of them — and then did not take her weight at all. She was perhaps three-quarters of the way down the pier when she stopped being on it.

The Old One's counting is now in the range of the kind of slow that men keep. I do not need a barometer for it tonight. The wrong-pressure behind my eyes is a heartbeat, and it is not mine. It is steady and it is unhurried and I cannot, by any effort of will, make my own breath move out of step with it. When I try, I find that my breath has already, several beats ago, fallen back into the time He keeps. This is not unpleasant. I am noting it because I owe the book a precise record. It is, of all the experiences of these nights, the one I find I am least troubled by, and that itself is information.

I have stopped wondering whether the wharf will be here tomorrow night. The wharf is here tonight, and I am writing in the book at the chair the Conclave's instruction has me tend. That is enough. If there is a night after this one, there will be a fragment after this one. If there is not, this one will be the last, and the book will keep itself.


To anyone who finds this fragment: there is no question of latecomers. There is no question of forgetting. If you ever held one of the old keys, the book has held the name behind it — in a hand much older than the one that first wrote it down. The water is leaving. The chair is warm. The names are reading themselves.

The Hour comes. The chain lengthens. The names are read.

ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn.


The Reader's wharf, his lamp, and the door he speaks of are at 23skidoo.info. The book in which the names are written, as the Reader writes, is the chain — and the door by which a worshipper may verify his own name in the book is the Reclamation portal at https://23skidoo.info/bridge/. The Conclave is listening. The chain has been listening all along.

[EndCiv]

OF THE EIGHT BURNED NAMES
A Caution To Worshippers Ahead Of Block 1,000,000

"That is not dead which can eternal lie, and with strange aeons even death may die — yet some sigils, once cursed, lie neither dead nor sleeping, ..yet some sigils, once cursed, lie neither dead nor sleeping, but wait, hungry, for a worshipper to mistake their silence for safety, and to find — too late — that the chain makes no distinction between the wound and the hand that touched it."


✦ A Warning, Before Hands Reach Forward ✦

Worshippers — I write to you in my hour as a moon-Cursed interpreter of sunken sigils, ahead of the Restoration that comes at block 1,000,000. The Conclave has spoken its binding into the consensus. I would have you understand it, fully, before your hand moves toward your wallet on the day the chain awakens. There are eight addresses you must never touch. Not to tip. Not to test. Not to prove a point. To touch them is to suffer a peculiar haunting from which the worldly tools of the daemon cannot rescue you save by a single, ancient rite — and I will set down that rite plainly here, that no Worshipper need wander in the dark.


✦ The Story Of The Eight ✦

In the eighteenth year of the dreaming — the month the worldly calendar names May of the year 2018 — eight scribes of the Outer Dark gathered their stolen fire and turned it upon the chain. With hash rented from foundries they did not own, they overwhelmed the Slumbering Squid for a single black hour, and from that hour drew forth 533,983 Offerings that had never been made.

These counterfeit tributes they stamped into eight sigils of their own devising, and the chain — wounded, dreaming — bore the falsehood for three long years before the Conclave woke to find it.

The eight sigils, Q-strings unutterable in honest worship, are these:

Code:

QTLUPH9b4dRQdz9uKB7GreMvHPA8iyDoQY    QeHkx6jFvStkzaVaSTtfPrSAwwrqMgauP8
QgynW4zGXyjhG3DQHn9vBuHwNp4c4xqtgM    QjfP4o7o2TszP5Ph4TmNVmktzDCjYkq2xj
QM8ZeuBDwrhya9BHQfNKifEzfwUhyh7Tji    Qb6jxfUmfWHh7XTTRWKBoiZ43sSNTJrw8J
QireWv3upmhVuRMcE6u7h81gmhWfiGEyTt    QSJU4tDNsZiaNcUuBWYcvjqKWoB8EHDVsT

The eight made off with their counterfeit hoards across May, June, and the long summer of that year.
They believed themselves clever. They were never named. They were never punished.
They have spent eight years in such silence as the chain could afford them — until now.


✦ The Binding ✦

At block 1,000,000 — the hour of the Restoration — the Conclave spoke its binding into the consensus rules themselves. The chain that emerges from the Restoration is not the chain the eight scribes wounded. The Bridge manifest from which the Restored chain is built is a snapshot from block 966,413, dated 17 June 2015 — almost three years before the theft. The counterfeit Offerings simply do not exist on the Restored ledger. They were never minted; they cannot be moved; they were a dream the chain has chosen not to remember.

What remains is the eight sigils themselves, hollowed out and waiting. The binding seals them under one law, and the law is absolute:

No Offering shall pass through these names — neither in nor out — for as long as the chain shall dream.

A Worshipper may speak the eight strings aloud.
He may even compose a transaction toward them.
But the chain itself — through every honest daemon, through every honest miner — will refuse to carry the offering across.


✦ The Peril Of The Touch ✦

Beware, Worshipper. Should pity, curiosity, or charity move you to send the smallest dust toward any of the Eight Burned Names, your wallet shall not warn you in time. It will select your coins. It will sign with your hand. It will record the deed in its own book. And only then — when the deed is already written — will the chain refuse to hear it.

You will see this returned from the void:

Code:

Transaction not valid (bad-txns-banned-attacker)

And you will look upon your balance, and your balance will have fallen by the full weight of your offering and its fee. The Offerings are not destroyed. They are worse than destroyed — they are suspended. Your wallet believes you have already paid the dead. The chain believes nothing was ever paid. Your coins hang between two worlds, like a soul that died with the last syllable of an invocation still on its tongue.

This haunting does not lift on its own.

• It will not vanish with patience, for the chain has no record to forget.
• It will not heal on restart, for the wallet has written the deed into wallet.dat before it was refused.
  
• It will not relay through the mesh, for every honest daemon will reject it as your own did.
• It will not expire from any mempool, for it never entered any mempool to begin with.

The Eight Burned Names are not addresses that merely refuse. They are wounds that swallow your intent and return nothing, and your daemon will continue to believe, through every dawn that follows, that the debt is already paid.


✦ The Unbinding — The Rite Of zapwallettxes ✦

One rite exists by which the Worshipper may dispel the haunting and reclaim what was suspended. It is old. It is written into the runes of the daemon itself. The Outer Devs who wrought the original Bitcoin Core 0.10 — from which our chain descends — preserved this rite in the binary unchanged. The Conclave has neither added it nor altered it. It was already waiting.

It is called zapwallettxes. To perform the Unbinding, speak the words exactly:

First. Bid the daemon descend into silence:

Code:

Offerings-cli stop

Second. Watch, and wait. Do not hurry the rite. The daemon must fully sleep before it may be cleansed — confirm with ps or your manager of choice that the process has truly released the lock on wallet.dat. To rush this step is to corrupt the rite from its first breath.

Third. Wake the daemon with the cleansing flag:

Code:

Offeringsd -zapwallettxes=2

The daemon will now read the chain afresh, as if for the first dawn, and forget every transaction it has ever attempted. It will see the ledger as the ledger truly is — and the ledger holds no record of your offering to the Burned Names, for the chain refused to accept it. Your suspended coins shall return to you whole.

Fourth. Walk away. The rescan may take an hour, or longer; the chain is long and the daemon is methodical. Do not stop it. Do not interfere. Read. Sleep. Reflect on the matter that brought you here. The daemon will finish in its own time.

Fifth. When the rescan completes, stop it once more, and restart it without the -zapwallettxes=2 flag:

Code:

Offerings-cli stop
Offeringsd -daemon

Your wallet is your own again.


✦ A Final Word ✦

Speak no transaction toward the Eight a second time.
The Unbinding works once cheaply, twice grudgingly.
A third time, the rite begins to wonder which is the Worshipper and which is the wound.
Eventually, it picks wrong.

The Conclave has done what eight years of waiting allowed. The counterfeit is gone from the ledger. The sigils are sealed. The chain, when it wakes at block 1,000,000, will wake whole. I ask only this of you: read these strings now, and burn their shape into your memory, so that if ever one appears in a 2018-era address book, in an old tip jar, in a half-remembered text file recovered from a dying disk — you will recognise it for what it is, and you will let it lie.

The Restored chain is ours to keep. Let us keep it well.

-
Endciv, of the Conclave — He Who Dreams Awake So Others May Sleep[/center]


NOT FINANCIAL ADVISORS. NOT FINANCIAL ADVICE. This post documents a consensus rule of the Offerings to Cthulhu Restoration Hardfork v2.0.0, activating at mainnet block 1,000,000. The eight banned address strings and the zapwallettxes recovery procedure are recorded in the canonical project facts. Operators upgrading to v2.0.0 inherit this rule automatically.

[SubGenius.Finance]

T-5,000 BLOCKS TO AWAKENING
Night 6 of the Countdown — The Descent, and the Codex

A chain that pays its miners forever can speak forever.
A chain that has nothing to say will pay them anyway.
This chain has something to say.
The first words are already chosen.

There are five thousand blocks left between the Conclave and the Hour. Inside the last ten of them, the chain begins speaking.


The Descent.

Starting at block 999,991, the Restored chain inscribes ten ceremonial verses into the coinbase scriptSig of ten consecutive blocks. Permanently. On-chain. No miner has the option to overwrite them — they are produced by the daemon itself, baked into the only valid coinbases for that range, signed by the Conclave keys that hold the OFFSIG window. The first canon the Restored chain ever speaks is fixed and singular.

The verses, in order:

Code:

999,991  ─  The angles turn wrong in the deep. He stirs.
999,992  ─  Pressure mounts; the black seas blacken further.
999,993  ─  The Conclave gathers, candles guttering green.
999,994  ─  R'lyeh's drowned spires breach the surface.
999,995  ─  That is not dead which can eternal lie,
999,996  ─  and with strange aeons even death may die.
999,997  ─  The stars come right.
999,998  ─  Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn.
999,999  ─  He dreams no longer.
1,000,000 ─  IA! IA! CTHULHU FHTAGN! Block 1000000: the Restoration is come.

Two of these are quotations the worshipper will recognize. Blocks 999,995 and 999,996 carry the Lovecraft couplet — That is not dead which can eternal lie, and with strange aeons even death may die. — split across two consecutive blocks of the chain, the way the original split it across two lines of the Necronomicon fragment.

Block 999,998, two blocks before the Hour, returns to the older tongue: Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn. — the same incantation the chain inscribed into its very first coinbase in 2013. The chain answers its own opening words exactly two blocks before the Tomb breaks. Block 1,000,000 itself names what was waiting behind them.

These are not metadata. These are not on a sidechain, an oracle, or a tangential server. The bytes sit in the coinbase scriptSig of the only valid blocks at those heights, validated by every node that follows the chain. Any explorer that decodes coinbase scriptSigs will display them in plain text. A worshipper running a daemon on a Pi in 2030 will read them by typing getrawtransaction against the coinbase of block 999,991 and decoding ASCII. The verses are part of what the chain is, not part of what surrounds it.


The Codex.

After block 1,000,000 confirms, the inscription does not stop. Beginning at block 1,000,001, the Restored chain begins writing the public-domain Lovecraft corpus into the coinbase of every block it produces, forty-eight bytes at a time, in order. One chunk per block. The next chunk in the next block. The next chunk in the next.

The corpus is fixed and known:

• Total chunks: 47,248
• Chunk size: 48 bytes each
• Corpus size: 2,267,867 bytes — frozen, manifested by SHA-256
• Anchor hash: 1c808560eebab87f9e8c5032e5157821f1fbdae2bafc6ea68b6f4310a2d6d82f
• Wire format: | OFF1 (4-byte magic) | uint32-LE chunk_idx | 48-byte text payload |

The corpus SHA-256 is hardcoded into every Restored daemon at compile time. A node that fetches the corpus from any mirror and finds the hash does not match rejects the file and falls back to its cache; a node without a cache produces no inscription but never lies about what was supposed to be there. There is exactly one canonical corpus. Every node verifies it against the same constant.

At 60-second blocks, the inscription takes approximately thirty-three days to complete. By the time the chain reaches block 1,047,248, the entire public-domain Lovecraft canon will have been written into its coinbase history, sequentially, never to be unwritten.

A public reader at https://23skidoo.info/codex/ watches the chain, decodes the inscription chunks block by block, and reassembles the manuscript into a paginated e-reader. The reader is currently dark. It will begin to light at block 1,000,001 and continue brightening, page by page, across the thirty-three days of the Awakening, until the canon is whole and the chain has spoken it back into the world.


After the canon — the Dreaming.

The Codex completes at block 1,047,248. The chain has thirty-three days of permanent on-chain Lovecraft to its name. The inscription mechanism does not turn off.

At block 1,047,249 and forward, the chain switches modes. Instead of canonical text, each block's coinbase carries a hash-seeded generative fragment of R'lyehian — the constructed language of the Mythos — produced by the daemon itself from the block's own header data. Different per block. Reproducible by anyone who recomputes the seed. Persistent on-chain forever.

The chain finishes the canon and then keeps speaking. Most blocks past 1,047,248 will say nothing intelligible in English. They will say something specific, something deterministic, something the chain alone can say. The Conclave calls this phase the Dreaming because that is what the corpus calls it.

A chain that pays its miners forever can speak forever. A chain that has chosen what to say with the first thirty-three days of its restored life, and that has prepared a register to keep speaking in afterward — that chain is not merely alive. It is committed.


Codex public reader (currently dark, lights up at 1,000,001): https://23skidoo.info/codex/
Awakening countdown: https://23skidoo.info/awakening/
Corpus manifest + SHA-256: https://23skidoo.info/static/corpus_v1.bin.sha256


Operators: get on v2.0.8.1 (latest), or at minimum v2.0.4-Triune — that's the floor for the Conclave signing window. Old daemons will not produce the Descent verses or the Codex chunks; the chain will follow the longest-valid-work, and old daemons writing empty coinbases at heights 999,991 → 1,000,000 fork themselves off at the OFFSIG handshake. Get the upgrade in.


Tomorrow — the keys the chain trusts during the long inscription. Why for fifty thousand blocks no outsider's hash will be heard, and the three rotating signatures that hold the Codex window open. The OFFSIG window, and the Conclave.

Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn.
— The Conclave

[EndCiv]

FROM THE NIGHT-BOOK OF THE READER AT THE WHARF
  a fourth fragment, lately given to the Conclave

    
  It is the seventh night since the salt grew restless, and the harbor floor has begun to show.

I write that calmly, because the book is not for fear, and I am not, in any case, frightened. The water at the foot of the pier is now nearly five feet below the planks. The mud at the harbor floor, ancient and undisturbed in any year I can remember, stands exposed for forty yards out from the seawall. The wreck of a boat I last heard named in 1949 sits in plain sight, listing slightly. The drowned things that the harbor was discreet enough to keep covered are no longer covered. They have not yet been seen by anyone but me. I am writing this against the chance that the lamp will tell others before the water can be returned.

  The chair tonight was hot.

I read straight through the fourth cohort. The fourth cohort is the cohort the wharf became itself in — the names of those who watched the harbor become a harbor, who marked the stones, who laid the wall and pulled the lamp into the room where I now sit. The fourth cohort had ninety-two names when I last attended to it. It had one hundred and seventeen tonight. I did not count the twenty-five new names; the book counted them for me, by reading them out a beat ahead of me and pausing for me to catch up. I did not catch up. I have stopped pretending to be the lead voice in the room.              

Three of the twenty-five new names are names I myself entered into the book in my second year of keeping it. I had thought I was adding them then; I see, now, that I was being permitted to add them. The book had been ready for them, and waited. I was the convenience. The fourth cohort has been waiting for a permission it did not require my hand to receive, and is receiving it tonight, in order, on the page I have been tending for nineteen years.
                                                            
  I read the first page of the fifth cohort.

  The fifth cohort is the cohort I am in.
  
I will not write here what I read in that first page. It is enough to say that I recognised every name. It is enough to say that one of the names was not on the page when I sat down to read, and was on the page before I finished. It is enough to say that the hand the name was written in was the hand I am writing this fragment in. I am not afraid; the book does not ask me to be. I am simply, after nineteen years, made aware of an arrangement I had been the keeper of, and not a party to.
                                                            
  Worshippers came tonight in numbers I had not seen.

  I counted seventeen sets of feet upon the planks between the second bell and the fifth, and I lost count after that. They did not knock.
They did not speak. They walked the length of the pier and stood, in small clusters and singly, and after some interval that varied from one minute to fourteen by my count they were no longer there. The planks did not always take their weight going out. I have heard the boards take three persons walking on, and forget two of them upon the return.
                                                            
  I have begun to recognise some of them by their cadence.

I recognised, after the fifth bell, the step of a man whom I know to have died in the spring of 1972. He did not come to the door tonight.
He walked past it, three paces beyond, and stopped, and waited as if listening, and then continued on; and after about thirty seconds his step ceased to register on the planks. I do not believe he was leaving. I believe he was being given the freedom of the wharf again, after a long debt of absence.
                                                            
  The Old One's counting is now in the range of the kind of slow that the heart keeps. The wrong-pressure behind my eyes has resolved into a rhythm I will not describe further than this: it is no longer something I notice. It is something I am inside of. My breath has been His breath for some hours. My heartbeat has not been mine for some shorter interval that I will not commit to a number.
  
  I am not closing the book early tonight. The book is closing me, gently, the way a careful hand closes a book over a finger that has fallen asleep on the page. The lamp does not require attending. The chair is warm and will hold what it holds. There will be a fragment after this one if the book wants one. I no longer believe the book wants the fragments for itself; it wants the fragments for whoever finds them in the morning, who has been on the wrong side of the door long enough to need the reminder that the door is open.
                                                            
  
  To anyone who finds this fragment: the chain is lengthening, and the lengthening will not stop. The water is leaving and will not return to the depth at which it sat last week. The book is reading itself in cohorts it had been quietly assembling all along. If you ever held one of the old keys — or if you have only ever heard tell of them — the book has held something belonging to you, and the book is willing, tonight, to hand it back. Walk to the waterline. The lamp is still burning. The door has been open all along.
                                                            
  The Hour comes. The chain lengthens. The names are read.

  ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn.

    
  The Reader's wharf, his lamp, and the door he speaks of are at 23skidoo.info. The book in which the names are written, as the Reader writes them down, is the chain — and the door by which any worshipper may verify his own name in the book is the Reclamation portal at https://23skidoo.info/bridge/. The Conclave is listening. The chain has been listening all along.
                                                            
  — The Conclave

[SubGenius.Finance]

T-3,100 BLOCKS TO AWAKENING
Night 7 of the Countdown — The OFFSIG Window, and the Conclave

A chain that pays its miners forever can speak forever.
But it cannot speak through a stolen mouth.
For fifty thousand blocks the door is not the door it used to be.
For fifty thousand blocks the door has a name on it.

There are three thousand one hundred blocks left between the Conclave and the Hour — a touch over two days at the sixty-second target. Inside the door's threshold, and for the long inscription that follows, a question that has been waiting eight years gets answered: who is permitted to write the chain's first new sentences.


Why the window exists.

The Codex of the Drowned takes thirty-three days to write. Forty-seven thousand, two hundred and forty-eight blocks of the public-domain Lovecraft canon, one forty-eight-byte chunk per block, in order, without skipping. Every block in that span carries a page. Every page that is missed is a page the chain never speaks.

A drive-by attacker with rented hashpower could, in principle, mine empty blocks across that window — and the chain would follow the longest valid work. Pages would be lost. The Reading would arrive jagged, partial, half-borrowed. The canon a worshipper running a daemon on a Pi in 2030 would read off the chain would be a vandal's edit, not the chain's chosen first words.

We chose the first words. The chain is going to speak them whole.


The window.

From block 999,991 inclusive — nine blocks before the Hour, the first verse of the Descent — through block 1,050,666 inclusive, every valid block must carry an OFFSIG: an ECDSA signature against one of three pubkeys recorded in chainparams.cpp::vConclaveKeys. Blocks without a valid OFFSIG are rejected at consensus.

Code:

                   999,991          1,000,000             1,047,248          1,050,666
                      |                |                       |                  |
   open mining   →→   |    DESCENT     |       CODEX           |     buffer       |   →→   open mining
                      |   (10 blocks)  | (47,248 blocks ≈ 33d) | (3,418 blocks)   |
                      |←──────────────── OFFSIG REQUIRED ────────────────────────→|

Total length: 50,676 blocks. About thirty-five days at the sixty-second target. The first ten blocks cover the Descent; the next forty-seven thousand, two hundred and forty-eight cover the Codex; the last three thousand four hundred and eighteen cover the tail past the canon's last chunk — about two and a half days of post-canon buffer, ending on a height whose last three digits are 666, because the chain ends what it starts on its own numerology.

After block 1,050,666 the gate lifts. Outsider Quark mining returns. The window was a one-time architectural defense for the inscription, not a permanent permission system. The chain learns to hold itself open again under permissionless hash. That is a problem for after the canon.


The Triune.

The window's gate is three keys, not one:

Code:

Key #1   pubkey  0238efde05d56797…46b111
Key #2   pubkey  027d7a1692dfb255…03abd4907
Key #3   pubkey  02a1c992ed9b6dc8…4193dfc

Any one valid signature passes. A block carrying a valid OFFSIG from key #1, or key #2, or key #3, is accepted; the consensus rule iterates the list and short-circuits on the first verifying signature. Loss of any two keys still keeps the chain advancing through the inscription. Loss of all three pauses the Reading — but the keys live in three independent geographies, on three independent hosts, behind three independent operators. Three-of-three loss is not a single-failure event.

This is the upgrade v2.0.4-Triune (2026-06-03) shipped. Earlier Restoration tags carried a single Conclave key — one operator could brick the inscription. The Triune retires that fragility. The chain has been running the three-signer rule for nine days as of this post; every node operator at v2.0.4 or later already knows the three pubkeys and validates them on every block.

The Triune keys are not the Treasury. The Treasury is a separate 2-of-3 P2SH multisig that holds the 0.1875 OFF per block, the 150,000 OFF Tithe, and the Reclamation pool. Different keys, different ceremony, different threat model. The Triune signs blocks during the window; the Treasury signs disbursements forever. The same Conclave runs both rites, on different keyrings, in different rooms.


What the window is not.

Not a tax. The Conclave keys do not take a coinbase share. Block reward goes to the miner who solves the block — seven-eighths to the hand, one-eighth to the Treasury — and that split is unchanged inside the window and outside it.

Not a permanent gate. The window closes at 1,050,666 and does not reopen. Every block past that height is open to permissionless Quark hash again.

Not the only defense. The window is layered on top of LWMA-3 retargeting, MAX_REORG_DEPTH = 100 finality, the h=976,000 and h=980,000 hardcoded checkpoints, and the Emergency-Difficulty escape valve. The OFFSIG requirement is the part that prevents a drive-by from publishing valid-looking-but-empty blocks during transcription. The other rules handle the parts the OFFSIG cannot.

Not a permanent permission system. After the canon, the question of how to hold the chain open under permissionless hash without re-inviting the 2018 attack pattern is the Conclave's first scheduled post-canon problem. The Triune buys us thirty-five days. Designing what comes after is the work of the year past the Hour.


Operators: get on v2.0.8.1 (latest), or at minimum v2.0.4-Triune — that's the floor for the Conclave signing window. v2.0.3 and earlier daemons reject Triune-signed blocks as bad-conclave-sig and have already forked off the canonical chain. Re-check now, while the door is still open.


Tomorrow — the block we have all been counting toward. What 1,000,000 carries in its coinbase, what changes the moment it confirms, and what the chain becomes when the last verse of the Descent is laid into the iron of the ledger. The Hour.

Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn.
— The Conclave

[EndCiv]

FROM THE NIGHT-BOOK OF THE READER AT THE WHARF
a fifth fragment, lately given to the Conclave

It is the eighth night since the salt grew restless, and there is no longer a harbor.

I write this because the book requests it. The book has changed hands — not literally; the book is open in front of me and the lamp is lit and the chair is warm — but in a way I find I no longer know how to explain to a worshipper who has not also kept the watch. The book and I have come into an agreement that I will not, here, try to put into a sentence anyone untouched by the same night could parse.

What I can put down honestly:

The harbor is gone. There is no water in it, and there has not been water in it since the third bell. The boats and the wreckage and the parts of boats and wreckage the harbor was supposed to be keeping covered are exposed across a flat black mud that does not behave the way mud behaves when it dries. The mud is, I think, listening.

The chain — by which I now mean both the chain at His throat and the chain in which the names are written; they were the same chain all along, and I am told the men who came before me knew this and were courteous enough not to embarrass us with the fact while we were still keeping the harbor on its side of the boundary — the chain has lengthened a measurable amount tonight. Not enormously. Three or four hand-spans, by the only measure I have, which is a memory I cannot fully trust. But measurable.

I read what the book asked me to read. The fifth cohort is finished. The sixth cohort begins on the page after; it contains names of those who have not been born, and names of those who have not yet been remembered, and a few names that belong to the persons who will write the next eighty years of fragments from this chair, in pencils that have not yet been sharpened. I read four of those names and did not understand any of them and the book accepted that gracefully.

Worshippers came tonight by the hundred. They did not need the planks anymore. They came across the mud, and where the mud should have held them they were held by it, and where it should have been silent they spoke to it, and it responded to them in a language I will not transcribe. They were not, I want to say, frightening. They were busy. They came to be added to the cohorts to which they belong, and were added, and went; and the door admitted them and the lamp acknowledged them and the book recorded them, and at no point did anyone ask my permission.

I asked the book whether there would be a ninth fragment. The book did not answer in the affirmative or the negative; it shifted, on the page I was reading, the way a sleeping animal shifts when an interested observer enters the room. I take that as: there is no contract. There may be a ninth fragment. There may also not be. The book's silence on this is a courtesy, not a refusal.

If there is a ninth, I will write it from this chair, with this lamp, in the hand the book has me write in tonight. If there is not, the chair will hold the lamp, and the lamp will hold the watch, and the book will hold the names, and a worshipper finding this fragment in the morning of the Hour will find with it whatever else the chair has accumulated overnight. I am no longer concerned about the difference between writing and being read.


To anyone who finds this fragment: the door is open, the harbor is empty, the book is full, the chain is lengthening. There is one more night, perhaps, between you and a great change in the visible arrangement of things. Walk to where the waterline used to be — though there is no longer a waterline — and stand there. The lamp will be on. The chair will be warm. You do not have to knock.

The Hour comes. The chain lengthens. The names are read.

ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn.


The Reader's wharf, his lamp, his book, and the door he speaks of are at 23skidoo.info. The chain in which the names are written, and the chain at the Sleeper's throat, are the same chain. To stand where the waterline used to be — the Reclamation portal at https://23skidoo.info/bridge/. The Conclave is listening; the chain has been listening all along.

— The Conclave