The later days of the Owl Republic saw the nation in gradual decline. Though there were little if any nationwide problems with marriage rates or fertility, the native population was in a period of stasis rather than growth. Technological innovation as a whole stagnated. The Nameless One's influence upon the land and its people had been diminishing resulting in poor crop yields, and Her people slowly abandoned the temples built in reverence of Her.

In place of the temples rose the Morbs, enigmatic Hooman women who claimed to receive portents directly from the Nameless One Herself. Though first branded as heterodox or even heretical depending on the specific city's temple, the Morbs were greatly favored by the general population and over time became the ones the Hoomans consulted for tidings from the Nameless One.

There was some dispute in Parliament over whether to recognize Morbs as legitimate, but with the broad support of the people as a whole they were eventually accepted by the government. There were few clergy members to protest this, and most of them saw the writing on the wall and acquiesced much of their religious authority after Morb legalization and became scribes and lorekeepers, documenting the women's tales. They would also still make the "It's time!" declaration, though it would be referring to what the Morbs had to say most of the time.

In the following years, a renovation commonly made was the creation of amphitheaters in which the Morb(s) of a given town or city could speak of the Nameless One's words and exploits. These were typically built extending from the local temple, allowing it to be used as a backdrop. The format was never formally standardized, but the high yet narrow multi-tiered semicircle seating arrangements around the stage led to the public colloquially calling them "C-tubes". Here the Morbs would reveal their tidings before enthusiastic crowds, however rare or common that may be.

The Nameless One's apothnitosis and the Owl Republic's self-inflicted devastation left many a Hooman in a state of aimlessness. Yes, it was better that they kept the embers of their civilization hot so as to leave less land for schizos to call their own, but what hope did they have of their days getting better again? In these dark times, many went to what Morbs were left for guidance.

Though they had lost their connection to the Nameless One and had no quick means of communicating with each other, nearly every Morb had come to the same conclusion: to keep Her spirit alive among the Hooman population by retelling what She did in her divinity and providing shows of these deeds as best they could in the local C-tubes. Hoomans, remembering the days of C-tube tidings, flocked to the amphitheaters in great numbers to see and hear the Morbs retell the passages of yesteryear.

These oral retellings quickly proved to differ from the old tidings in the days of the late Republic. For one, as there were no more live tidings of the Nameless One, the tales or passages had to be hand-picked by the Morbs performing them. This resulted in greatly increased coordination and amicable communication between scribes and Morbs, with the former looking through the archives for suitable writings to be recounted. The fact that these were all retellings also meant that they could be performed with regularity and that non-Morb Hoomans could be called upon to aid a performance.

These performances continue to this day. Though they are no longer live or recent tidings of the Nameless One, these retellings keep Her spirit go on in those who view them, in a way. They remind the Hoomans why they're still around and help build community between each other, and most make it a point to attend on a regular basis.