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Fantasy Isekai rp chapter 2: I've been reborn and the natural order is messed up so what?

OOC
Here
Bacon is fluffy

Bacon is fluffy

Wut'n th'name of davy jonez lockr is uh sall-add?
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The absence of Mikael, the god of light, and the former ruler of realm 55a was clear as day after the void king's arrival. For days there has been speculation among the religious who could not draw upon the divine well of spirit energy. If anything, the only miracles they could perform were based solely on the cultivation they had achieved prior to the new year. The mage association has spent the better half of the last week trying to detect any presence of the former god of light. However, their attempts to find him were only found in fragments within the blackthorn nation. These fragments were not significant enough up until the void king's arrival to justify an investigation. How there was a strong spike in divine mana that seemed to burn for a solid day before burning out.
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Elsewhere to the east, in the vast Vastari desert, there sits a demon who has not been stirred for nearly 5 Millenia. He looked down at this shackles which were flickering in and out of existence, but the spear which held him to the world anchor still held fast. He focused his vision on what was happening around him, to find giant sand wyrms being held back by the efforts of a mage army. The demon tilted his head and curiously watched such a spectacle with anticipation and said, " Hmm, this era maybe be more interesting than I thought". The figures in his room, his captors who were all sacrificed to seal him with their blood began to rise. "seek out one pure of spirit and lead him to me, he said while looking out into the desert. The large buildings, the domes of magic, and the vast fields of crops under attack continued to pique his interest. Yet most of all, the lack of divine energy made him squirm. He could almost taste his freedom.
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Elsewhere, to the north within the vast mountains of grun, a dwarf opened his eyes for the first time in decades. His body hooked up to a mechanized frame which stands 100 feet tall(33 meters), with rusted limbs housing technology seemingly lost to time. His right arm an oversized cannon and his other humanoid in order to utilize an array of other tools and gadgets. His mana coursed through the iron frame, causing it to be enveloped in shadow. The dwarf himself was rotting, but was intertwined with wires that fed him mana to preserve his body. His face half torn off to reveal a grisly skull with electrical tubes and wires woven into the bone. Nestled in the heart of a mountain, he checked his surroundings to find his workers he left tasks to had amassed a treasure trove of weapons, rare minerals, and other goods needed for a mechanized army. Most of his subjects were mostly bone now though, so it was apparent he would need new slaves. He began to move and saw the notification on the screen to the right of his head. "hmm, so the phantom prince has arrived at last? That can only mean one thing", he said while beginning to cackle. He approached a cliff and surveyed his army that had bowed to him decades ago and raised his fist screaming in a gutteral raspy voice, " TO WAHHHR"! His people raised their fists and began to create a chorus of hellish screams to celebrate the return of their king. An army composed of death and technology, ready to ravage the world once again.
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Queen blackthorn would be staring out into the distance, spreading her wings and channeling his consciousness into her dragon kin. "Remember to protect our heroes, do not antagonize them. You are to only intervene if need be". As she said this dragons had begun to fly to world tree, caelum's academy, over the city looking for zyn, toward the temple of uldyssian, and ofcourse one was already protecting doc. Uther walked in as she was overseeing the envoy's progress and knelt before her. "My liege, the ambassadors for the tomb of avalon have already begun to arrive". As much as she wanted to scoff, it was true that this needed to be attended to. " it would seem the time to cultivate the next generation has begun, my knight". Airships were already looming over the castle carrying dignitaries from all over the world.

Meanwhile the tomb of avalon floated through the void. A beacon of light in a sea of darkness. Enveloped in divine protections that not even the void kings could interfere with its trajectory. It flew straight and true, unabated by the darkness billowing around it. It was on a collision course with realm 55a for the first time in a century. No one knows who created the tomb, but one thing is for certain, it carries the history of the universe dating back to the creation of existence. Seemingly created to peserve the past, but also pass down great treasures to the youth if they dared to enter its keep.

It's been a week since the void king came and gone and the world has slightly stabilized, but much in the way an engine stabilizes with duct tape. Up is down, down is up. The oceans rage and desire to swallow the land. The skies are always firing off thunderbolts even during sunny days and the cracks left by the void king, seem to grow everyday. However, despite the hopelessness of the situation and the awakening of many old threats...the mortals of this era fought twice as hard to prevail. The question is, will you? What has your character been doing since then and what are they up to now in this burgeoning era of chaos?

gm notes:

Just some context for the next villains and figures entering the story as well. Enjoy :)

Hyphae Hyphae
Darkbloom Darkbloom
Gaius Danius Griinia Gaius Danius Griinia
CasualTea CasualTea
Gears Gears
nikoneko10 nikoneko10
 
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???? | Forest, Spirt's Domain​
A corpse lay at the centre of a clearing. It was humanoid and small enough that it had likely once belonged to an adolescent child, though how it’d ended up so deep in the forest was anyone’s question. Whatever the body’s origins, it would likely be impossible to determine without some manner of divination; the corpse had evidently started to decay some time ago and parts of it had clearly been gnawed at by various animals. If anything, it was more of a wonder that the body was still as intact as it was.

Roughly centred upon the body grew half a dozen fairy circles. Dozens upon dozens of colourful mushrooms, strange and brightly pattered, arranged into numerous misshapen rings encircling the corpse.

Were someone to stumble upon the peculiar formation, a layperson would likely find the sight more than a little unnerving. At the same time, one more academically inclined might instead be inclined to look upon the odd mushrooms with a sort of morbid curiosity, perhaps going on to speculate on the strange phenomena being the result of some rare fungal species feeding upon the body. It would, however, take someone both profoundly observant and well versed in several particularly obscure arcane traditions, to recognise the fairy circles for what they truly were: a ritual circle.

Of course, this deep in a forest of little particular note to any mortal settlement, there were rarely people around, and certainly, at that very moment, there wasn’t a soul present to stumble upon the ritual formation. Or more accurately, there were no people present.

To one side of the clearing, a fox observed the ritual with an unnatural interest, large patches of its fur and one of its eyes missing. From another angle a bird with a broken with watched alongside a small rabbit that appeared in good health, but which held itself with an unnerving quality matched only by the other strange animals. Throughout the whole clearing countless worms and crawling insects swarmed above and beneath the soil, meticulously preparing and grooming the ritual site for what was to come.

One could be forgiven for mistaking these strange creatures for the undead, and except for the bugs, they’d arguably be correct in this assessment, if only in a purely linguistic sense. While none of the animals had been touched by any kind of necromancy, they had all at some point been dead, brute forced back into a state of living by the fungus now pervading their bodies.

All around the flora making up the clearing and the forest surrounding visibly wilted, its lifeforce being siphoned to sustain that of these animals whose own was no longer sufficient to sustain them.

To the fungus, this corpse it had found – spent so long to painstakingly drag back to the centre of its domain – represented an opportunity it couldn’t afford to miss; a body just barely large enough to host not just a portion of its mass, but the seat of its domain, and yet simultaneously just small enough for controlling it to be possible with that domain. That the corpse had been so badly damaged before the spirit had found it was a problem – it would probably only last so long before sustaining it became impossible – but perhaps this too was something of a minor blessing in some way, the almost unrecognizable condition of the corpse a small degree of separation from the horror of what it was going to do.

The fungus’s mind was in turmoil and not just from the nature of its second first awakening not two weeks before. What it was planning was wrong. Not just wrong but an unforgivable violation of its own nature. A series of ideas bubbled up within the spirit’s consciousness, disjointed concepts linking and blurring together to form a gestalt; a name.

‘Anathema Burdened by Scars that Haven’t’.

Anathema. To the language of the world that was what it was now, and just as it was its nature to recoil from and decry such actions, so too was it its nature to continue along its current path, for what it might cost should it fail to do so. Something akin to self-loathing and revulsion churned within the spirit, even as it steeled its resolve, and drawing upon its recollections of a future that could not be allowed, began the ritual.

In this current time and incarnation, the spirit’s domain was a small thing, merely a few meters across. The living domain was practically still a newborn after all, and much of what little it had possessed to start, had already been expended on the creation of its minions and on setting up the very ritual it was currently performing.

Even so, for all its current lack of size, the ritual was in no way a subtle thing, and as the spirit began to channel it in earnest the ritual circle began to glow brightly, the mushrooms making it up starting to shudder and writhe. A profoundly disquieting feeling started emanating from the ritual as almost all the lifeforce at the spirit’s disposal was syphoned towards the profane undertaking and for hundreds of meters around those animals not animated by the fungus turned and fled.

The flora of the living domain was the first thing to start dying off, though as sedentary as plants tend to be, their deaths would not become evident for some time still. Next came the spirit’s minions, the deaths of which were far more obvious and pronounced, as one by one the majority of the insects and all of the larger animals collapsed like puppets with their strings cut. Even as this happened the ground at the centre of the ritual – having already been rendered loose by worms and crawling things – began to roil and churn, strands of mycelium wriggling out from within the soil to converge upon the corpse at the heart of the ritual.

Like the tendrils of one of the aberrant things lurking in the forgotten corners of the world, the mycelium began to burrow into the corpse, filling its rotted cavities and infiltrating the partially decayed flesh to repair and replace damaged organs. Lifeforce was burned at an obscene rate to jumpstart the corpse’s life functions, the body seizing up dramatically as rigour mortis came undone and the heart and brain started functioning once more.

For almost three minutes this continued, the body spasming like a beast in its death throws more than one coming back to life, then just as quickly as the whole thing had started, the ritual came to an abrupt stop, the glow fading and the ominous pressure lifting from the area as the corpse and fungus both dropped limp.

For a moment the body appeared to have simply returned to death, the shallow rhythm of its chest and minute twitches of its muscles almost imperceptible. Then after several long seconds of near-total stillness within the clearing, the former corpse opened its eyes once more, before, ever so slowly, it sat itself up.

Of the countless hypha that made up the true body of the living domain, many were still rooted at least partially into the ground, and as the spirit clumsily forced its new body to stand, the motion caused a significant portion of these filaments to strain and snap.

Not even half of the fungus that comprised the living domain had been transplanted into the corpse, some lost simply because they were sequestered within the fungi’s former minions or had been necessary to keep the ritual going, some lost simply because it hadn’t managed to take root in the corpse before the ritual ran out of lifeforce with which to sustain their transfer. The loss would be a definite setback for the spirit, but an acceptable one, likely to be measured in days rather than months or years and more than made up for by the benefits this host might provide while it remained alive.

By some miracle, the body the living domain had chosen to inhabit was still more or less completely mobile and had retained both its hearing and vision in a fully functioning condition. Unfortunately, beyond those concessions, the body was also notably more damaged than the spirit had previously estimated, and while being returned to life did mean it was once more generating its own lifeforce, the amount was a mere fraction of what it was costing to keep it from returning back to death.

In other words, this host would likely only continue to function for a day or so at best before returning to its proper place in the cycle, and if the spirit wanted to make the most of the mobility it provided and have its sins represent anything more than a setback of months, it would need to get moving and fast.

One of the discoveries the fungus had made in its last week of experimentation was that arthropods made for excellent minions. While individually they weren’t all that useful, with a large enough quantity and variety of them working together they had the potential to become quite the potent taskforce. Better yet, their relatively simple biologies made it very easy for the spirit to take control over them, even while they were still alive, making them excellent tools for generating and storing lifeforce relative to their size.

Drawing upon the threads of its body still connecting it to its former domain, the spirit started sending out orders to the bugs that had survived the ritual. Most of this taskforce the spirit directed to climb aboard its new body, such that they would be able to supplement its lifeforce or act as tools as needed. What bugs couldn’t be brought with it – whether because of their cumulative mass or just because they had forms unconducive to clinging on – were instead drained of the majority of their lifeforce for what precious few seconds of operating time they might each provide, before being sent off to do what they could to nurture the ravaged clearing back as best they could.

While the spirit’s former domain still appeared to be alive – if somewhat unhealthy – at a glance, the spirit's connection to it made it abundantly clear that this was a mere illusion and one that would rapidly breakdown over the next few days as the flora making up the area started to show its decay. In truth, there wasn’t actually much the spirit’s minions would be able to do to restore the area beyond what time alone would, and in fact, the fungus controlling the minions would die relatively quickly once separated from the spirit’s domain, a process that would likely kill most of the bugs left behind. The spirit guiltily tried not to think of these facts as it turned its attention back to its task.

While it would have liked to have been able to map out the area of what had once been its future domain by memory alone, the fact was the forest of the future it remembered had diverged so much as a result of both time and its own actions that doing so was impossible for it.

Instead, the first thing the spirit had done upon gaining access to its first host – the small rabbit the spirit had found dead in a burrow already infiltrated by its mycelium at the moment it awakened in this time – was to scout out its surroundings. In this way, days before the spirit had found the body that it currently inhabited, it had already managed to locate the edge of the forest, and from there identify a very important landmark.

Admittedly, the spirit didn’t actually understand quite what the landmark was; it knew that the structure was a sort of trail made by the sapient races – the language of the world informed it of that much – but it didn’t understand what it was in any measure beyond that, having never once seen a road in its previous incarnation. Nonetheless, that it had been made by sapient creatures was the important part here, so the spirit was only somewhat bothered by not understanding the scope of the strange trail’s purpose.

Beyond knowing that it needed to find a way to a future different to the one it had come from, the spirit didn’t really have much of a plan yet, at least not anything more concrete than getting stronger and figuring out just what it was that caused that future in the first place. The simple fact was that its perspective had been far too restricted during its first life leaving it at a loss now that it needed to operate within a totally different mode of being.

What it did know was that sapient creatures already operated in that mode as a default, and moreover, that it was their nature to gather information. In other words, it was in the spirit's best interest to find people and to learn what it could from them.

Admittedly, even as naive as it was to the ways of people, the spirit was aware enough to know that approaching with its current host would likely be a very bad idea, but this it didn’t think was an insurmountable problem; direct communication might be impossible, but like termites or ants, the sapient races had a tendency to engineer colonial habitats for themselves.

As long as the spirit was able to get close enough to such a habitat before this body failed it, then it thought it would be able to simply let said body collapse and return to the soil, from there spreading its domain to encroach upon the colony. Whatever it decided to do, it would need to do was find a colony first which meant following the trail it had found.

Pushing its consciousness through the remaining hyphae still connecting it to the land, the spirit felt out the area that had been the heart of its domain for as long as it had existed. Then, steeling its resolve once more, it severed that connection, and for the first time in either of its lives, it set out, away from the place it had been born.
 

  • Rennalor "Ren" NightBaron'
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    The Battle with The Void King was intense. Magic flew through the air as spellcasters did their best to fight this ancient threat to reality itself. Charlie Fast-Hands, being the usual force of chaos- fired his spells with no particular aim merely hoping to irritate the enemy and bring a bit of his usual flair with his spells- fireballs shaped to expand like fireworks, bolts of natural energy, psionic bolts sending random slivers of the insanity of the Harengon-born's mind.

    Chained too the creatures side, was a crystal globe in the shape of a skull. The eyes glowed as it watched the battle with distain- how long had he waited for escape, using minor magic attacks on his captor. He didn't even know how long it had been since he had been struck by that stupid cart and ended up in this crystalline prison. He grew entertained by the creatures attempts to annoy and confuse the Void King- amused by the futile attempts

    The soul watched with disbelief as his captor fell, the lingering of fireworks exploding above to further enhance this interesting show the skull watched. Sure he wouldn't be escaping despite the defeat, but at least he got the satisfaction of watching the bastard get his interdimensional arse handed to him. He was getting ready for another period of waiting in the void- when a rogue firework struck one of his chains. The soul felt power return to the vessel as he rushed to the ground, glowing brighter as he stole some of the transportation magic the heroes used to return to his world.

    Rennalor ran as far as her legs could carry her as she nimbly jumped out of reach of a grasping hand, muttering curses she heard from deckhands as she nursed her arm, thinking she could actually outrun them- before a stronger and quicker form tackled the cloaked urchin.

    Ren tried to squirm out of her captors hold as the rest gathered, pulling her coin purse and loot bag from her side before dragging her to the nearby alleyway. She cried out as they threw her onto the pavement, scraping her pale face- now accented by the blood from the cut. The larger of the group- Griff, grabbed Ren by her hood, lifting her to eye level- an impressive feat with her diminutive size. Ren prepared herself for the sting of the thugs strike- doing her best to go limp as the others joined in; this was how it worked- the Loot Bosses sent Urchins to beg or steal, reporting to some Thieving Band's Boss. If you didn't die you would join a thievin' crew- but someone of Ren's physique had no chance, stuck as a Urchin till today- the day the boss decided she couldn't get as much loot as she costed.

    The freed soul watched with annoyance- this was his heir? It was unfortunate enough that his ploy of immortality had failed- somehow displacing the bastard in this time- thousands of years after his empire had collapsed without his power, but she was pathetic. He could sense a touch of magic in her, inherited by his blood- but diluted by whichever of his mistresses or servants had birthed the albino brat. He did feel pity however, if only that his blood was wasted. His soul was still weak, but with a stronger host he could grow in power.

    The soul descended on the urchin, fueling her core as the deadly wounds from the beatdown healed in seconds. The Soul smiled as he got too his feet- shorter than he wanted, but he could use some enhancement magics to make this vessel suite his proper form- maybe get some Orcish physique and Elven features that he deserved. The girls eyes glowed red as she began to laugh at the confused thugs- before chains of red energy began to shoot from her hands- engulfing the leader- tightening as he shrank and withered, fueling the reborn mages magic as he cast a fireball into the mass, incinerating the group.

    The once infamous mage skipped through the chaos as he smiled- kicking the corpses aside as he grabbed the gold. Jekkizan- Nightbaron, Crimsonlord, Demonborn- was back. For millennia he had been trapped with that fool the demon king- punished for his attempts at eternal life, and he had got what he wanted in the end. the body was weak- but it had little to no free will with his possession, he had absolute control; and the bastard would never-

    Ren wrestled control from the foreign mind, finally free from the horrors of whoever's mind had taken over- she had watched villages burn, empires slaughtered, forests burned for this monsters personal gain. Terror filled her as she saw the remains of Griffs goons- decimated and charbroiled. Griff himself was still struggling under the binds. Oh the Bastard has control- I was hoping your mana was weak enough too leave no resistance. Ren stumbled as she heard the sudden voice- cold and demeaning as she tried too look for the source. Idiot... I am in your mind, I suppose I will have to convince you to let me use your weak excuse of bastard flesh to reforge my empire of Nightmares and Evil?

    Ren quickly tried to think of what to do- there was a psychotic voice in her head, telling her that he was going to take over the world and all that crazy stuff- sure she wouldn't mind some power, but even the smallest amount of blood would make her sick- but she had to make this psycho calm down. "I- i can't hurt people."

    Soldiers and servants would do the fun stuff if you feel less confident abpout it- I used to have the best sets of animated armor, dwarven steel, Orc based minds- and don't get me started on the Kitsune I enslaved-

    "Get the hell out of my head."

    I can give you a servant? When I was a kid I would have loved a butler- there's some spare parts right here.

    The pile of bones began to shift as a boney hand erupted from the ashes, smoking flesh still stuck too the bones- throwing the rest of the bones aside as a walking corpse climbed out of the body pile. Five more joined as the zombies stared at Ren- smiling in a way Jek thought would convince her. After a moment, the creatures burst into flame, leaving clean skeletons behind- staring at their master.

    There, less fleshy- I prefer some for my own desires, but I suppose you can use them for whatever I want- now we have to begin forging our new empire Bastard- how about you start the empire and find me a more suitable body.

    Ren rubbed her head as the skeletons mimicked her motions, trying to get used to the stupid voice calling her bastard- who else dealt with that shit. "Fine, Just don't put me back in there- I'll build your stupid empire."

    Excellent- now we need to hire some real help, maybe an Orc or Two; We don't have a lot of coin so we will have to find another way to get some servants other than these idiots.

    Ren sighed and stepped into the street, raising her hood as she raised her hood and began her long walk too the underground to do the random voice in her heads will- trying to ignore the annoying prattle about his infinite greatness and plans of world domination. She would certainly enjoy some revenge and power- but she would have to avoid letting this psycho take control.

 
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Grell

It had been a week since the faithful battle with the Void King. Grell had been violently thrown from the void and in to the middle of nowhere. His injuries had been minor but close inspection of his body had revealed a shocking discovery. The Demon King had marked him, right in the armpit of all places. Grell had sensed the trademark magic of Demon King Male'Kai doing its best to perpetuate its own existence like a damn parasite. Operating solo would have its difficulties going forward given that Grell had an obvious brand belonging to the ruler of all demonkind right under his arm. Still he would have to live with it considering its removal at this point was impractical given the complexity of the brand itself. Lost and having no frame of reference for where he even WAS. Grell found out he was in the frontier city of Tulpa, which bordered the Great Desert. He was sent flying to literally the other end of the Kingdom. It'd take a while to get to the Capital to attend the entrance exam for the Academy. Which meant Grell was better off working from here until then.

He had registered with the local branch of the Adventurers Guild under the name GREY. No-one seemed to notice that he was technically a noble. Grell chalked that up to his treatment robbing him of any noble traits. His first quest had been gathering medicinal herbs from the savannah. It had been relatively simple given the knowledge of plants he had received from Yuria of the Nightshade during his Vangurle days. He'd been able to secure a more practical goblin slaying quest just after turning in his herbs. Goblins confused Grell since some could wear clothes and be civilized whereas others were literal savages in the wild. He had played it by ear and chased them to a cave where he was able to cave them in with a simple kick to the wall. The corpses were a little mangled so he didn't make a lot of money at the guild. Grell then took a job helping to help build a wall to keep the monsters out of the militia outpost a bit a ways from Tulpa. His recent misadventures had ensured he was strong enough to get that done in just two days.

Now he was faced with his latest quest which was to report the movements of a large lion monster that had been assembling a massive pride. It SHOULD have been his quest, a straightforward quest. Unfortunately now he was doing his best not to get EATEN by said lion beast which was doing its damnedest to tear him apart. The intel from the scouts was wrong, this thing had purposefully acted predictable so someone would send an easy meal. Six lionesses tried to jump on Grell while his attention was on the massive lion. He dodged a couple and body slammed one to the ground. Once one of the lionesses regained her bearings and went for the lunge again. Grell cleaved her head off with a sword that seemed to come from nowhere. His sword then wriggled like a slime before shooting out and forming into a flail. Caving in the skulls of two more lionesses. The strange mercurial weapon settled into a small spherical form. This was the Morph Orb, a weapon utilized by Grell during his time as Vangurle. His preference for using multiple kinds of weapons synergized very well with this item. The Mark of Vangurle had caused a demon spy to just HAND OVER this artifact to him since the guy had assumed Grell to be one of them. Naturally the demon had no idea what the orb WAS but that was neither here nor there.

Transforming the Morph Orb into a kusarigama. Grell tripped up three lionesses before vaulting over the massive lion. Wrapping the chain around the things tail. He forced it onto the ground before scrambling onto its back. Scraping the kama blade along the lions impressively thick neck. Grell felt warm blood spill out from the opened wound. "Stop resisting" said the young warrior while he held the thrashing beast in place. Soon he could feel the monster lion begin to weaken before eventually falling to the ground, silent. Turning his crimson eyes on the frightened lionesses. Grell watched them scatter like scared rabbits at the sight of their dead leader. Scooping up the corpse and dragging it back to the city. He was hoping for a hefty pay-day for having to deal with this bullshit.

"You have saved us from the lion who was gathering his armies at our doorstep!"

"We cannot thank you enough, young Grey"

"Three cheers for Grey, the Hero of Tulpa!"

It happened AGAIN...
Name: Grell Marcelle
Age: 18
Points Available: N/A
Strength: 70
Dexterity: 70
Mana: 60
Mana Sensitivity: 60
Aura: 60
Aura Sensitivity: 60
Luck: 10

Traits:
Easily Tempted: Slight debuff when offered something you desire
Mana Sensitive: You are especially sensitive to the oscillations of mana and the flow in your body but you cant turn this boon off
Mark of Vangurle: This mark will resonate with demons and give him favor with them. It will also give him 10% more stats when he chooses to call upon it. However those who can sense demonic magic will be able to sense it if he does not either learn to suppress it or get it removed.

Titles:
Hero of Mikael, Heir of Ulydssian

Boon Granted: Heavenly Skeleton (Rank D)
Mana can be stored within your skeleton. If it is maintained you will become stronger than your wildest dreams, but if it is neglected, your body will fall apart. Please rank up at least once a year until Rank B to avoid death.
 
Elias, being the world-class avoider of anything resembling heroism, would have spent the week exactly where it was safest: nowhere near anything important.

Given the chaos unfolding, he probably sought refuge in the most stable place he could find—the priestess's community. Not out of any deep religious conviction, mind you, but because (1) they had food, (2) they were unlikely to throw him at a rampaging void horror, and (3) there was a distinct lack of "Hey, Elias, go fight that thing" energy in their ranks.

That’s not to say he was useful there. Oh no. While the priestess and her people were undoubtedly dealing with the theological fallout of the gods being MIA, Elias was busy doing…well, Elias things. This included:

"Helping" with restoration efforts—which meant halfheartedly moving small rocks while actual strong people rebuilt things.

Researching old texts—digging through whatever archives they had in an attempt to piece together any historical patterns about these sorts of apocalyptic situations (read: avoiding real work by pretending to be deep in study).

Being mildly annoying to the priestess—asking increasingly dumb questions like, "So if your god is missing, does that mean we technically have divine squatters' rights?"

Complaining about his lack of a boon—to anyone who would listen, though no one seemed particularly sympathetic to his plight of not having free superpowers yet.

Trying to figure out what "blessings" he might still be able to get—because if divine energy was on the fritz, did that mean he could apply for some kind of celestial refund?


So, in short, yes—he was with the priestess's community. Was he contributing meaningfully? Ehh… debatable. But was he surviving? Absolutely.


Sure, the world was apparently teetering on the edge of disaster, dragons were flying around on official hero-protecting business, and airships full of dignitaries were looming ominously over castles. But Elias? Elias had a much more pressing concern—he still hadn’t picked his boon.


A boon was a once-in-a-lifetime, game-changing gift, and yet, here he was, still waffling. "Super Archaeologist" was the obvious choice, of course—enhanced perception, an innate understanding of ancient ruins, and maybe even the ability to decipher lost languages on the spot. But part of him wondered... what if he went for something ridiculous, like Archaeologist Supreme? Did that come with a cool hat? Would it let him dodge paperwork? These were the real mysteries of the universe.


Meanwhile, his stats were sitting there, all sad and unspent, like leftover skill points in a bad RPG. He should probably do something about that before someone decided to throw him into another life-threatening situation. With a sigh, he finally caved and distributed them: +40 to Mana, because magic seemed like the only thing that might keep him alive; +30 to Luck, because he had been coasting on sheer dumb survival instincts for too long to stop now; and the remaining 30 split between Dexterity and Mana Sensitivity, just in case he needed to, you know, dodge or notice something important before it crushed him.


Speaking of ridiculous situations, the whole Void King incident was still fresh in his mind. Not because he had done anything particularly heroic—oh no, he was 90% sure he had spent most of that battle dodging things and providing moral support in the form of horrified screaming. But the important part was that he had survived, and he planned to keep that streak going.


And yet, despite his best efforts, Elias had this sinking feeling that trouble was going to find him again soon. It always did.

Name: Elias Vaughn

Age: 34

points available: 0

Strength: 11
dexterity: 32
mana: 61
mana sensitivity: 32
aura: 11
aura sensitivity: 12
luck: 51

titles:

boon: super archaeologist: gain wisdom from ruins easier and higher rate of technique and artifact acquisition.

inventory:

5 gold

Bacon is fluffy Bacon is fluffy
 
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Hyphae said:
???? | Forest, Spirt's Domain​
A corpse lay at the centre of a clearing. It was humanoid and small enough that it had likely once belonged to an adolescent child, though how it’d ended up so deep in the forest was anyone’s question. Whatever the body’s origins, it would likely be impossible to determine without some manner of divination; the corpse had evidently started to decay some time ago and parts of it had clearly been gnawed at by various animals. If anything, it was more of a wonder that the body was still as intact as it was.

Roughly centred upon the body grew half a dozen fairy circles. Dozens upon dozens of colourful mushrooms, strange and brightly pattered, arranged into numerous misshapen rings encircling the corpse.

Were someone to stumble upon the peculiar formation, a layperson would likely find the sight more than a little unnerving. At the same time, one more academically inclined might instead be inclined to look upon the odd mushrooms with a sort of morbid curiosity, perhaps going on to speculate on the strange phenomena being the result of some rare fungal species feeding upon the body. It would, however, take someone both profoundly observant and well versed in several particularly obscure arcane traditions, to recognise the fairy circles for what they truly were: a ritual circle.

Of course, this deep in a forest of little particular note to any mortal settlement, there were rarely people around, and certainly, at that very moment, there wasn’t a soul present to stumble upon the ritual formation. Or more accurately, there were no people present.

To one side of the clearing, a fox observed the ritual with an unnatural interest, large patches of its fur and one of its eyes missing. From another angle a bird with a broken with watched alongside a small rabbit that appeared in good health, but which held itself with an unnerving quality matched only by the other strange animals. Throughout the whole clearing countless worms and crawling insects swarmed above and beneath the soil, meticulously preparing and grooming the ritual site for what was to come.

One could be forgiven for mistaking these strange creatures for the undead, and except for the bugs, they’d arguably be correct in this assessment, if only in a purely linguistic sense. While none of the animals had been touched by any kind of necromancy, they had all at some point been dead, brute forced back into a state of living by the fungus now pervading their bodies.

All around the flora making up the clearing and the forest surrounding visibly wilted, its lifeforce being siphoned to sustain that of these animals whose own was no longer sufficient to sustain them.

To the fungus, this corpse it had found – spent so long to painstakingly drag back to the centre of its domain – represented an opportunity it couldn’t afford to miss; a body just barely large enough to host not just a portion of its mass, but the seat of its domain, and yet simultaneously just small enough for controlling it to be possible with that domain. That the corpse had been so badly damaged before the spirit had found it was a problem – it would probably only last so long before sustaining it became impossible – but perhaps this too was something of a minor blessing in some way, the almost unrecognizable condition of the corpse a small degree of separation from the horror of what it was going to do.

The fungus’s mind was in turmoil and not just from the nature of its second first awakening not two weeks before. What it was planning was wrong. Not just wrong but an unforgivable violation of its own nature. A series of ideas bubbled up within the spirit’s consciousness, disjointed concepts linking and blurring together to form a gestalt; a name.

‘Anathema Burdened by Scars that Haven’t’.

Anathema. To the language of the world that was what it was now, and just as it was its nature to recoil from and decry such actions, so too was it its nature to continue along its current path, for what it might cost should it fail to do so. Something akin to self-loathing and revulsion churned within the spirit, even as it steeled its resolve, and drawing upon its recollections of a future that could not be allowed, began the ritual.

In this current time and incarnation, the spirit’s domain was a small thing, merely a few meters across. The living domain was practically still a newborn after all, and much of what little it had possessed to start, had already been expended on the creation of its minions and on setting up the very ritual it was currently performing.

Even so, for all its current lack of size, the ritual was in no way a subtle thing, and as the spirit began to channel it in earnest the ritual circle began to glow brightly, the mushrooms making it up starting to shudder and writhe. A profoundly disquieting feeling started emanating from the ritual as almost all the lifeforce at the spirit’s disposal was syphoned towards the profane undertaking and for hundreds of meters around those animals not animated by the fungus turned and fled.

The flora of the living domain was the first thing to start dying off, though as sedentary as plants tend to be, their deaths would not become evident for some time still. Next came the spirit’s minions, the deaths of which were far more obvious and pronounced, as one by one the majority of the insects and all of the larger animals collapsed like puppets with their strings cut. Even as this happened the ground at the centre of the ritual – having already been rendered loose by worms and crawling things – began to roil and churn, strands of mycelium wriggling out from within the soil to converge upon the corpse at the heart of the ritual.

Like the tendrils of one of the aberrant things lurking in the forgotten corners of the world, the mycelium began to burrow into the corpse, filling its rotted cavities and infiltrating the partially decayed flesh to repair and replace damaged organs. Lifeforce was burned at an obscene rate to jumpstart the corpse’s life functions, the body seizing up dramatically as rigour mortis came undone and the heart and brain started functioning once more.

For almost three minutes this continued, the body spasming like a beast in its death throws more than one coming back to life, then just as quickly as the whole thing had started, the ritual came to an abrupt stop, the glow fading and the ominous pressure lifting from the area as the corpse and fungus both dropped limp.

For a moment the body appeared to have simply returned to death, the shallow rhythm of its chest and minute twitches of its muscles almost imperceptible. Then after several long seconds of near-total stillness within the clearing, the former corpse opened its eyes once more, before, ever so slowly, it sat itself up.

Of the countless hypha that made up the true body of the living domain, many were still rooted at least partially into the ground, and as the spirit clumsily forced its new body to stand, the motion caused a significant portion of these filaments to strain and snap.

Not even half of the fungus that comprised the living domain had been transplanted into the corpse, some lost simply because they were sequestered within the fungi’s former minions or had been necessary to keep the ritual going, some lost simply because it hadn’t managed to take root in the corpse before the ritual ran out of lifeforce with which to sustain their transfer. The loss would be a definite setback for the spirit, but an acceptable one, likely to be measured in days rather than months or years and more than made up for by the benefits this host might provide while it remained alive.

By some miracle, the body the living domain had chosen to inhabit was still more or less completely mobile and had retained both its hearing and vision in a fully functioning condition. Unfortunately, beyond those concessions, the body was also notably more damaged than the spirit had previously estimated, and while being returned to life did mean it was once more generating its own lifeforce, the amount was a mere fraction of what it was costing to keep it from returning back to death.

In other words, this host would likely only continue to function for a day or so at best before returning to its proper place in the cycle, and if the spirit wanted to make the most of the mobility it provided and have its sins represent anything more than a setback of months, it would need to get moving and fast.

One of the discoveries the fungus had made in its last week of experimentation was that arthropods made for excellent minions. While individually they weren’t all that useful, with a large enough quantity and variety of them working together they had the potential to become quite the potent taskforce. Better yet, their relatively simple biologies made it very easy for the spirit to take control over them, even while they were still alive, making them excellent tools for generating and storing lifeforce relative to their size.

Drawing upon the threads of its body still connecting it to its former domain, the spirit started sending out orders to the bugs that had survived the ritual. Most of this taskforce the spirit directed to climb aboard its new body, such that they would be able to supplement its lifeforce or act as tools as needed. What bugs couldn’t be brought with it – whether because of their cumulative mass or just because they had forms unconducive to clinging on – were instead drained of the majority of their lifeforce for what precious few seconds of operating time they might each provide, before being sent off to do what they could to nurture the ravaged clearing back as best they could.

While the spirit’s former domain still appeared to be alive – if somewhat unhealthy – at a glance, the spirit's connection to it made it abundantly clear that this was a mere illusion and one that would rapidly breakdown over the next few days as the flora making up the area started to show its decay. In truth, there wasn’t actually much the spirit’s minions would be able to do to restore the area beyond what time alone would, and in fact, the fungus controlling the minions would die relatively quickly once separated from the spirit’s domain, a process that would likely kill most of the bugs left behind. The spirit guiltily tried not to think of these facts as it turned its attention back to its task.

While it would have liked to have been able to map out the area of what had once been its future domain by memory alone, the fact was the forest of the future it remembered had diverged so much as a result of both time and its own actions that doing so was impossible for it.

Instead, the first thing the spirit had done upon gaining access to its first host – the small rabbit the spirit had found dead in a burrow already infiltrated by its mycelium at the moment it awakened in this time – was to scout out its surroundings. In this way, days before the spirit had found the body that it currently inhabited, it had already managed to locate the edge of the forest, and from there identify a very important landmark.

Admittedly, the spirit didn’t actually understand quite what the landmark was; it knew that the structure was a sort of trail made by the sapient races – the language of the world informed it of that much – but it didn’t understand what it was in any measure beyond that, having never once seen a road in its previous incarnation. Nonetheless, that it had been made by sapient creatures was the important part here, so the spirit was only somewhat bothered by not understanding the scope of the strange trail’s purpose.

Beyond knowing that it needed to find a way to a future different to the one it had come from, the spirit didn’t really have much of a plan yet, at least not anything more concrete than getting stronger and figuring out just what it was that caused that future in the first place. The simple fact was that its perspective had been far too restricted during its first life leaving it at a loss now that it needed to operate within a totally different mode of being.

What it did know was that sapient creatures already operated in that mode as a default, and moreover, that it was their nature to gather information. In other words, it was in the spirit's best interest to find people and to learn what it could from them.

Admittedly, even as naive as it was to the ways of people, the spirit was aware enough to know that approaching with its current host would likely be a very bad idea, but this it didn’t think was an insurmountable problem; direct communication might be impossible, but like termites or ants, the sapient races had a tendency to engineer colonial habitats for themselves.

As long as the spirit was able to get close enough to such a habitat before this body failed it, then it thought it would be able to simply let said body collapse and return to the soil, from there spreading its domain to encroach upon the colony. Whatever it decided to do, it would need to do was find a colony first which meant following the trail it had found.

Pushing its consciousness through the remaining hyphae still connecting it to the land, the spirit felt out the area that had been the heart of its domain for as long as it had existed. Then, steeling its resolve once more, it severed that connection, and for the first time in either of its lives, it set out, away from the place it had been born.
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Dale, Botanist, and mage
Earth and nature magic
Affinity for fire magic, but doesn't use
​
Dale had been hard at work to achieve what Caelum( Darkbloom Darkbloom ) so assured in his assertions, that he would be able to find a use for scarlett thorns and moon shade. But what really taught him the depth of this world's struggles was not the void king alone, but the struggle he witnessed his peer go through. Right after magnificently breaking through with what he seemed to understand was the meshing of two types of magics. He was then plunged into a death battle with the creature who was destroying their world with his bare hands. Still a doll made of straw, he witnessed the powers of the representatives and in particular, the beautiful elf queen who called upon the world tree. He was enraptured by her display of nature magic, but more importantly, he was jealous that caelum knew how to tap into it. The depth between the two men was clear, Dale had let himself block his own progress by being a defeatist. Quickly he rolled up his sleeves and grabbed a couple of tools from his spatial storage napsack. Armed with a shovel and some gloves he ran out thinking clearly of what he needed for moonshade and scarlett thorn to work together, just as Caelum had with chrono magic and barrier magic.

"Alright alright, Moon shade is highly acidic but it has a mana stimulating property. Which is why it can survive in caves. And scarlett thorns is sensitive to high ph, but is otherwise a strong bonding agent. So I just need some grickle back mushrooms to lower the acidity...maybe". He paused, before shaking his head and rushing toward the last place he remembered seeing some. "They tend to grow at the roof of trees and pop their heads out if there's a lot of moisture, so probably near the water fall"! Dale leapt forward channeling mana into his heels to increase his speed by launching himself further with each stride. Within minutes he was leaving the farm land he had helped cultivate near his home and was high in the canopy practically soaring through the forest using the branches and trunks to speed up his progress.

Finally reaching his destination, he skid to a halt and began harvesting the mushrooms. Not too many though because it was a natural source of materials if it worked. It was then he noticed a rabbit in the clearing. He paused and held his breath while scrambling behind the tree. All he could hear was the wind whistling by and the sound of the babbling brook. It hopped weakly, but it was strange. Dale pinched his nose because he was especially sensitive to strong stenches. "is it a zombie"? The rabbit certainly seemed dead, but there seemed to be mycelia in its eyes. Dale knew a bit about mushrooms, especially after seeing them take control of insects through their invasive spores such as Ophiocordyceps. However such fungi who could take control a creature the size of a rabbit..Dale exhaled and realized this was a chance and felt he needed to investigate as a botanist and a scientist. He channeled mana into his mana and laced his breath with it. He whispered to the creature, "Hello, can you hear me"? It was something he did with his plants at his greenhouse. The act of speaking to a plant and circulating mana through its body stimulates it even if it can't particularly understand him. It was the intent he meant to send out, the intent to offer a helping hand.

Whether that worked with fungi, was yet to be seen.
 
Gaius Danius Griinia said:
Grell

It had been a week since the faithful battle with the Void King. Grell had been violently thrown from the void and in to the middle of nowhere. His injuries had been minor but close inspection of his body had revealed a shocking discovery. The Demon King had marked him, right in the armpit of all places. Grell had sensed the trademark magic of Demon King Male'Kai doing its best to perpetuate its own existence like a damn parasite. Operating solo would have its difficulties going forward given that Grell had an obvious brand belonging to the ruler of all demonkind right under his arm. Still he would have to live with it considering its removal at this point was impractical given the complexity of the brand itself. Lost and having no frame of reference for where he even WAS. Grell found out he was in the frontier city of Tulpa, which bordered the Great Desert. He was sent flying to literally the other end of the Kingdom. It'd take a while to get to the Capital to attend the entrance exam for the Academy. Which meant Grell was better off working from here until then.

He had registered with the local branch of the Adventurers Guild under the name GREY. No-one seemed to notice that he was technically a noble. Grell chalked that up to his treatment robbing him of any noble traits. His first quest had been gathering medicinal herbs from the savannah. It had been relatively simple given the knowledge of plants he had received from Yuria of the Nightshade during his Vangurle days. He'd been able to secure a more practical goblin slaying quest just after turning in his herbs. Goblins confused Grell since some could wear clothes and be civilized whereas others were literal savages in the wild. He had played it by ear and chased them to a cave where he was able to cave them in with a simple kick to the wall. The corpses were a little mangled so he didn't make a lot of money at the guild. Grell then took a job helping to help build a wall to keep the monsters out of the militia outpost a bit a ways from Tulpa. His recent misadventures had ensured he was strong enough to get that done in just two days.

Now he was faced with his latest quest which was to report the movements of a large lion monster that had been assembling a massive pride. It SHOULD have been his quest, a straightforward quest. Unfortunately now he was doing his best not to get EATEN by said lion beast which was doing its damnedest to tear him apart. The intel from the scouts was wrong, this thing had purposefully acted predictable so someone would send an easy meal. Six lionesses tried to jump on Grell while his attention was on the massive lion. He dodged a couple and body slammed one to the ground. Once one of the lionesses regained her bearings and went for the lunge again. Grell cleaved her head off with a sword that seemed to come from nowhere. His sword then wriggled like a slime before shooting out and forming into a flail. Caving in the skulls of two more lionesses. The strange mercurial weapon settled into a small spherical form. This was the Morph Orb, a weapon utilized by Grell during his time as Vangurle. His preference for using multiple kinds of weapons synergized very well with this item. The Mark of Vangurle had caused a demon spy to just HAND OVER this artifact to him since the guy had assumed Grell to be one of them. Naturally the demon had no idea what the orb WAS but that was neither here nor there.

Transforming the Morph Orb into a kusarigama. Grell tripped up three lionesses before vaulting over the massive lion. Wrapping the chain around the things tail. He forced it onto the ground before scrambling onto its back. Scraping the kama blade along the lions impressively thick neck. Grell felt warm blood spill out from the opened wound. "Stop resisting" said the young warrior while he held the thrashing beast in place. Soon he could feel the monster lion begin to weaken before eventually falling to the ground, silent. Turning his crimson eyes on the frightened lionesses. Grell watched them scatter like scared rabbits at the sight of their dead leader. Scooping up the corpse and dragging it back to the city. He was hoping for a hefty pay-day for having to deal with this bullshit.

"You have saved us from the lion who was gathering his armies at our doorstep!"

"We cannot thank you enough, young Grey"

"Three cheers for Grey, the Hero of Tulpa!"

It happened AGAIN...
Name: Grell Marcelle
Age: 18
Points Available: N/A
Strength: 70
Dexterity: 70
Mana: 60
Mana Sensitivity: 60
Aura: 60
Aura Sensitivity: 60
Luck: 10

Traits:
Easily Tempted: Slight debuff when offered something you desire
Mana Sensitive: You are especially sensitive to the oscillations of mana and the flow in your body but you cant turn this boon off
Mark of Vangurle: This mark will resonate with demons and give him favor with them. It will also give him 10% more stats when he chooses to call upon it. However those who can sense demonic magic will be able to sense it if he does not either learn to suppress it or get it removed.

Titles:
Hero of Mikael, Heir of Ulydssian

Boon Granted: Heavenly Skeleton (Rank D)
Mana can be stored within your skeleton. If it is maintained you will become stronger than your wildest dreams, but if it is neglected, your body will fall apart. Please rank up at least once a year until Rank B to avoid death.
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???​
The creature projected its consciousness across the desert and was fascinated while more of it was cultivated, much of it remained as it was back in his day. Borrowing the body of a vulture, bending its will was a small task. The creature's spinal column was nothing, not even a twig to the ancient being. After severing its brain from the rest of its body, he pumped it back to life with his vile mana and willed it tulpa. Something interesting had grabbed his attention in recent days. Like a beacon in a sea of darkness, Grell's heavenly frame was like a macabre signal flare that made him want to throw up. Yet the scent of his student, Malekai, interested him so.

The vulture flew over the scene where Grell was being hailed as a hero, armed with a morphing orb. The ancient one rubbed his chin and nodded at the utility of such a tool. " Why didn't we think of this? Young people surely are interesting. So full of wonder and curiosity", he said broadcasting to Grell's mind via mana. The dead vulture dropped the others who were feasting on the corpses. A few pecking at his medium itself because of its scent. "But why do you exude the disgusting stench of Uldyssian and that pipsqueak Malekai"? He asked, while taking a big chunk of flesh off the belly of the lioness.

Darkbloom said:
Elias, being the world-class avoider of anything resembling heroism, would have spent the week exactly where it was safest: nowhere near anything important.

Given the chaos unfolding, he probably sought refuge in the most stable place he could find—the priestess's community. Not out of any deep religious conviction, mind you, but because (1) they had food, (2) they were unlikely to throw him at a rampaging void horror, and (3) there was a distinct lack of "Hey, Elias, go fight that thing" energy in their ranks.

That’s not to say he was useful there. Oh no. While the priestess and her people were undoubtedly dealing with the theological fallout of the gods being MIA, Elias was busy doing…well, Elias things. This included:

"Helping" with restoration efforts—which meant halfheartedly moving small rocks while actual strong people rebuilt things.

Researching old texts—digging through whatever archives they had in an attempt to piece together any historical patterns about these sorts of apocalyptic situations (read: avoiding real work by pretending to be deep in study).

Being mildly annoying to the priestess—asking increasingly dumb questions like, "So if your god is missing, does that mean we technically have divine squatters' rights?"

Complaining about his lack of a boon—to anyone who would listen, though no one seemed particularly sympathetic to his plight of not having free superpowers yet.

Trying to figure out what "blessings" he might still be able to get—because if divine energy was on the fritz, did that mean he could apply for some kind of celestial refund?


So, in short, yes—he was with the priestess's community. Was he contributing meaningfully? Ehh… debatable. But was he surviving? Absolutely.


Sure, the world was apparently teetering on the edge of disaster, dragons were flying around on official hero-protecting business, and airships full of dignitaries were looming ominously over castles. But Elias? Elias had a much more pressing concern—he still hadn’t picked his boon.


A boon was a once-in-a-lifetime, game-changing gift, and yet, here he was, still waffling. "Super Archaeologist" was the obvious choice, of course—enhanced perception, an innate understanding of ancient ruins, and maybe even the ability to decipher lost languages on the spot. But part of him wondered... what if he went for something ridiculous, like Archaeologist Supreme? Did that come with a cool hat? Would it let him dodge paperwork? These were the real mysteries of the universe.


Meanwhile, his stats were sitting there, all sad and unspent, like leftover skill points in a bad RPG. He should probably do something about that before someone decided to throw him into another life-threatening situation. With a sigh, he finally caved and distributed them: +40 to Mana, because magic seemed like the only thing that might keep him alive; +30 to Luck, because he had been coasting on sheer dumb survival instincts for too long to stop now; and the remaining 30 split between Dexterity and Mana Sensitivity, just in case he needed to, you know, dodge or notice something important before it crushed him.


Speaking of ridiculous situations, the whole Void King incident was still fresh in his mind. Not because he had done anything particularly heroic—oh no, he was 90% sure he had spent most of that battle dodging things and providing moral support in the form of horrified screaming. But the important part was that he had survived, and he planned to keep that streak going.


And yet, despite his best efforts, Elias had this sinking feeling that trouble was going to find him again soon. It always did.

Name: Elias Vaughn

Age: 34

points available: 0

Strength: 11
dexterity: 32
mana: 61
mana sensitivity: 32
aura: 11
aura sensitivity: 12
luck: 51

titles:

boon: super archaeologist: gain wisdom from ruins easier and higher rate of technique and artifact acquisition.

inventory:

5 gold

Bacon is fluffy Bacon is fluffy
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Vivian​
Vivian would find Elias when he was in the archives studying with a bowl of unseasoned chicken boiled with carrots, cabbage, and some potatoes. She knocked twice and let herself in through the main foyer of the archives. "Silly Elias, it's not good to neglect your dinner. We gotta stay strong at all times", she said with a slight smile. Vivian pushed her hair back over her ear and looked over his should to see what he was reading. " you know besides me and the head priest, no one can understand most of this. It seems to be in an language not from this world". That language was Latin and it was only passed onto the elites. Over the millenia it had become almost a dead language, but her people managed to preserve it and taught the priestess and high priest.

She reached for a book and laid it next to Elias and said, "This one speaks of Uldyssian's early life, it's fascinating how he met solomon the great in his prime". She then moved over to an older more beat up book and held it out for Elias to read. "And this one I believe holds a clue to recent events. Please, tell me what you see here". This was in fact a test to the priestess, because the message was encoded even in a way that not even she or her elders could easily comprehend. After decades they only could tell it was somehow referencing the beacon in the temple. However it was the prophecy of the second coming of Uldyssian and the reason why the beacon at the temple had lit up for the first time in 2,000 years.
 
Elias glanced up from his bowl of what could barely be called food, swallowing a particularly bland bite of chicken with the enthusiasm of a man chewing on cardboard. “Dinner? Oh, this isn’t dinner. This is an experiment to see if my taste buds can physically die. So far, results are promising.” Then, with the weariness of a scholar burdened by far too much knowledge—and an unforgivable lack of seasoning—he looked at Vivian. “Be honest with me. Do spices offend the gods? Is that why this tastes like boiled disappointment?” He stirred the broth, watching it swirl around as if expecting flavor to magically appear. “I mean, I’m not asking for a feast here, just something to remind me I’m not chewing on wet parchment.”

With a final resigned sigh, he turned back to the books, deciding that ancient prophecies might be more palatable than his meal. “Anyway, let’s see what we’ve got here…”

When Vivian mentioned that only she and the head priest could read most of the texts, he raised an eyebrow. “Really? Huh. I guess that makes me special then.” He tapped the page with a smirk. “This language is Latin. It’s old, but where I’m from, it was pretty common for scholars. Well, used to be. Now it's mostly reserved for people who really like sounding fancy or priests who want to keep secrets from the public. So, good job keeping the tradition alive.”

His eyes flicked to the book about Uldyssian’s early life. “Oh yeah, classic hero origin story. You meet some powerful guy in his prime, learn a few things, get dragged into world-changing events—textbook protagonist material. I bet Solomon was one of those ‘wise but vaguely condescending’ mentors, right?” He flipped through the pages briefly before moving on to the more battered book Vivian handed him.

Elias adjusted his glasses, scanning the text carefully. His usual joking demeanor faded slightly as he picked apart the encoded message, tracing the faded ink with his fingers. “Hmm… okay, this isn’t just a historical record. This is some kind of prophecy. And if I’m reading this right, it’s talking about why that beacon at the temple lit up after 2,000 years.”

He exhaled, rubbing his temple. “You know, when I got into archaeology, I was expecting buried artifacts, some dusty ruins, maybe an angry museum curator or two. Not divine prophecies that seem distressingly relevant to current events.” He shot Vivian a look. “You guys didn’t plant this here just to mess with me, right? Because if this turns out to be some ancient cosmic prank, I’m going to be very upset. And by that, I mean I will dramatically sigh and continue translating, because curiosity is a disease.”

He turned back to the book, squinting as he deciphered more of the hidden message. “Alright, let’s see what doom and gloom awaits us, shall we?”


Elias leaned forward, muttering to himself as he pieced together the old text. His fingers traced the weathered lines of Latin, lips forming the words silently before he spoke them aloud.

“Okay, so… it starts with the usual ominous preamble. When the starless void eclipses the guiding light, the second dawn shall stir within the vessel unknowing.” He frowned. “Alright, so that’s probably referring to, you know… all that unpleasantness that happened recently. The void king shows up, divine energy vanishes, and now something—or someone—is supposed to wake up.”

He flipped a few more pages, eyes narrowing as he skimmed the encoded script. “Ah, here’s something a little more specific. From the heart of the forgotten temple, the beacon shall rise anew. Its light calls forth the one who walks the path once tread, whose hands shall mend what was broken, whose voice shall rouse the silent throne.” Elias exhaled through his nose. “That sure sounds like someone’s about to have a really inconvenient destiny.”

He glanced at Vivian. “Any guesses? Because unless you’ve got some long-lost heir to Uldyssian stashed away, I think this is implying a reincarnation scenario. Or at the very least, someone who’s about to get a lot of unwanted attention.” He tapped the page. “And since the beacon at the temple lit up for the first time in two millennia, it’s safe to say the countdown has officially started.”

Turning another page, he continued. “The trials shall break the unworthy and temper the chosen. The watchers shall rise, the earth shall stir, and the blade once buried shall thirst anew.” He paused, frowning. “Blade? Great, because nothing screams stable world events like a mysterious ancient weapon suddenly deciding it wants to be relevant again.”

Elias sighed, rubbing his temple. “You ever get the feeling the universe just throws these cryptic warnings out there for fun? Like, why not just say ‘Hey, guys, big trouble coming, prepare accordingly!’ instead of all this poetic doom-and-gloom nonsense?” He leaned back, giving Vivian a tired look. “So, what’s your best guess? Because I think we just found the plot of our next disaster.”



Name: Elias Vaughn

Age: 34

points available: 0

Strength: 11
dexterity: 32
mana: 61
mana sensitivity: 32
aura: 11
aura sensitivity: 12
luck: 51

titles:

boon: super archaeologist: gain wisdom from ruins easier and higher rate of technique and artifact acquisition.

inventory:

5 gold

Bacon is fluffy Bacon is fluffy
 
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Anathema's Vestige | Forest, Spirt's Domain​
On the floor of the Anthema's former domain the corpse of a bunny started to twitch as for the second time in its existence the creature was ripped from its proper place in the cycle. The mind behind the rabbit faltered, making several false starts as it ever so slowly worked itself back into action, then, as a semblance of coherency began to return to it, the mind became confused.

It was dead? No. It was supposed it be dead. It – not it as the current vestige, but the true version of itself – had sacrificed this fragment in order to fuel the ritual… so why was it still alive?

Confusion played out in slow motion as the stuttering mind tried to unravel the mystery of its continued existence. Belatedly, it observed that it was covered in dead insects with even more still lying piled in a heap around it, and eventually, it managed to conclude that this shouldn't be. While the ritual was expected to have left a bunch of dead bugs in its wake, that so many of the creatures had converged upon this particular spot before dying was not.

Focusing on this clue, the rabbit – or rather the remnant of the Anathema that controlled the rabbit – began the painstaking task of ever so slowly piecing back together just what had happened, until finally, everything clicked into place.

No doubt its true self would have ordered what bugs it couldn’t take with it to nurture the clearing back to health, but without its continued presence to monitor and correct said bugs, the interpretation of the orders likely diverged from their original intention, resulting in some portion of bugs instead going off to donate their lifeforce to the former hosts.

That was one of the limitations of using bugs as hosts; even if being properly alive meant they generated enough lifeforce to sustain their bodies indefinitely – at least in theory – the fact that their bodies were so small meant they could only store so much of the mycelia needed to think for them, which made them poor hosts to leave alone with all but the simplest of tasks. Hell, the vestige itself was hardly able to think in its current state despite the bunny containing it being many orders of magnitude more mycelium than even the largest of the bugs, and the only reason the human corpse had been a workable host at all, was because the spirit had transplanted the seat of its domain within the corpse.

Sure enough, true to its predictions, when the rabbit shook itself free of the pile of insects to look around, it found that the other two – former – hosts were similarly buried beneath their own piles of insects – though the more advanced decay of their bodies had apparently rendered their resurrections unsuccessful.

Having figured out why it was alive the rabbit was suddenly at a loss for what it was supposed to do.

It wasn’t supposed to be alive and it would return to being dead sooner or later, so should it just lie down and wait for that to happen? Perhaps burn its lifeforce to expedite the process? Or should it be more proactive and try to further its true self’s goals? Maybe help to heal the clearing as the bugs had presumably been trying to do before getting confused?


Bacon is fluffy said:
View attachment 1220379
Dale, Botanist, and mage
Earth and nature magic
Affinity for fire magic, but doesn't use
​
Finally reaching his destination, he skid to a halt and began harvesting the mushrooms. Not too many though because it was a natural source of materials if it worked. It was then he noticed a rabbit in the clearing. He paused and held his breath while scrambling behind the tree. All he could hear was the wind whistling by and the sound of the babbling brook. It hopped weakly, but it was strange. Dale pinched his nose because he was especially sensitive to strong stenches. "is it a zombie"? The rabbit certainly seemed dead, but there seemed to be mycelia in its eyes. Dale knew a bit about mushrooms, especially after seeing them take control of insects through their invasive spores such as Ophiocordyceps. However such fungi who could take control a creature the size of a rabbit..Dale exhaled and realized this was a chance and felt he needed to investigate as a botanist and a scientist. He channeled mana into his mana and laced his breath with it. He whispered to the creature, "Hello, can you hear me"? It was something he did with his plants at his greenhouse. The act of speaking to a plant and circulating mana through its body stimulates it even if it can't particularly understand him. It was the intent he meant to send out, the intent to offer a helping hand.

Whether that worked with fungi, was yet to be seen.
Click to expand...

Several minutes later the rabbit had just about concluded that it should focus on healing the clearing and was struggling to figure out how to do so as it roamed its former domain when it heard a sound.

While the spirit didn’t really understand languages in the traditional sense, it like all nature spirits, possessed an innate capacity to understand, so as the supernaturally carried voice reached it, the sound was resolved into something the spirit could comprehend.

~The self’s awareness as to the voice of the other, shaped like a question; contorted through intent to help.~​

The spirit’s vestige turned its attention to the newcomer, suddenly aware of their presence, its simple mind forgetting its previous plans in a single moment. It noted that even had it not possessed the capacity to understand, the being had projected their intent imprinted upon their mana, a manner of communication not unlike a spirit's, if an incredibly crude approximation of one.

Was this person a druid in training? Or was this perhaps a common ability amongst non-druids? Intrigued, the spirit began to close the distance between the maybe-a-druid and itself, coming closer right up until it made physical contact with the human.

Just as the spirit didn’t understand human language in a traditional sense, it was unable to communicate through any true language. Though often referred to as ‘the language of the world’, the only thing shared between the method of communicating utilised by nature spirits and a true language was that both could be used to convey information between people.

Having never interacted with a human that wasn’t a druid, the spirit had no clue just how hard it was for the uninitiated to understand the language of the world, so it was only by some small miracle that when the vestige began pushing a tiny fraction of its mana into the human, it found that its diminished mental capacity made it too hard to imprint all but the simplest of concepts into its communication.

~Confusion shaped like a future, reaching out for important knowledge… An idea stemming from an accepted offer of help; a shape like the desire to be followed, bleeding into the idea of a location that is the self but more than the self.~​

Confident that the human understood that it had questions and wanted to lead them to its true body, the vestige, turned and began heading towards the road that Anathema had left for. The true body would be much better equipped to answer questions.


Anathema | Edge of Forest​
Having finally reached the edge of the forest Anathema observed the long stretch of road with some amount of indecision. Unfortunately, the spirit couldn’t see any humans from where it was standing nor any landmarks that stood out to it as notable, making the decision as to which direction it should travel a somewhat tricky one.

After several minutes spent considering whether it should just stay put and hope a human wandered by, the spirit finally decided it didn’t have time for that and started following the trail to the east.
 
Gears said:
Ren quickly tried to think of what to do- there was a psychotic voice in her head, telling her that he was going to take over the world and all that crazy stuff- sure she wouldn't mind some power, but even the smallest amount of blood would make her sick- but she had to make this psycho calm down. "I- i can't hurt people."

Soldiers and servants would do the fun stuff if you feel less confident abpout it- I used to have the best sets of animated armor, dwarven steel, Orc based minds- and don't get me started on the Kitsune I enslaved-

"Get the hell out of my head."

I can give you a servant? When I was a kid I would have loved a butler- there's some spare parts right here.

The pile of bones began to shift as a boney hand erupted from the ashes, smoking flesh still stuck too the bones- throwing the rest of the bones aside as a walking corpse climbed out of the body pile. Five more joined as the zombies stared at Ren- smiling in a way Jek thought would convince her. After a moment, the creatures burst into flame, leaving clean skeletons behind- staring at their master.

There, less fleshy- I prefer some for my own desires, but I suppose you can use them for whatever I want- now we have to begin forging our new empire Bastard- how about you start the empire and find me a more suitable body.

Ren rubbed her head as the skeletons mimicked her motions, trying to get used to the stupid voice calling her bastard- who else dealt with that shit. "Fine, Just don't put me back in there- I'll build your stupid empire."

Excellent- now we need to hire some real help, maybe an Orc or Two; We don't have a lot of coin so we will have to find another way to get some servants other than these idiots.

Ren sighed and stepped into the street, raising her hood as she raised her hood and began her long walk too the underground to do the random voice in her heads will- trying to ignore the annoying prattle about his infinite greatness and plans of world domination. She would certainly enjoy some revenge and power- but she would have to avoid letting this psycho take control.
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Screenshot 2025-03-12 143539.png
Ivan "rib setter" borowicz
​
In the frontier town of grom'engrad, bordering the blackthorn empire and a famous pit stop after venturing through the Karackestan mountain pass. While it was a town which maintained a facade of order with a normal government in compliance with the blackthorn rule, its real ruler was Ivan. A man who was scorned by the civil war with the Karackestan 100 years, he was burnt from head to toe. Now in his old age he is much akin to beef jerky, with a skinny figure who extenuates his bones. His eyes are black like a doll's eyes, but filled with spite and hatred. Throughout his body he was a host to a dozen insect species who use his mana as a lifesource and in return do his bidding.

The way this old man has made Grom'engrad his domain is through drug use, surveillance, and a little bit of forbidden magic as a vassal of the demon king. While most people, even mages are ignorant to his presence, even the most insignificant roach or scurrying mouse are as good as his own eyes. Allowing him to gather info quickly and put down competition before it is allowed to bud. He also has bred a species of poisonous spiders who have been biologically changed to be less deadly, but give a highly addictive rush akin to cocaine. Utilizing money, mob tactics and the above he has created a little kingdom for himself as the people went about their business without knowing what he was actually doing.

At the time of Griff's death, he was overseeing an experiment with an addictive adrenaline enhancer which tended to burn out one's mana core in the long term, but in the moment it could make an untrained warrior capable of cutting steel. Today he was overseeing it's use in childen, but the trial wasn't going so well. The children he kidnapped were all writhing on the floor and throwing up intensely in their pens. "It seems the poison is still too much for children. Begin diluting its effects until it can be tolerated by children". His assistants, most of which had their tongues removed nodded and went to work in the laboratory to modify said poisons. He felt nothing when griff's entourage died, but a blood vessel popped when griff did. He stopped and felt his body tremble. Immediately his consciousness traveled through an array of rodents and insects, pests if you will, until he reached the area where Ren was. He saw the zombies mimicking her movements. "number 83 did this? why she's just a drain on our resources and useless. what the", he said a little dumbfounded. He looked on at her with her necromantic powers and the sorcerer born flames that still burned in her wake. Something about her was off, Ivan saw it in her changed mannerisms. If experience taught him anything, especially in these chaotic times where he was being swamped by refugees and requests from neighboring provinces. Not to prod others if it can be helped.

Ivan ordered colonies of pests to monitor her movements and began having his subordinates printing her wanted posters. "print, but do not distribute yet, do you understand"? Ivan expected a small margin of error, but he gave the orders just to stimulate his underlings in a direction he needed later on. His pets would generally be indistinguishable from the real things, but their movements would be subtley different. You may see a roach in the daylight or perhaps mice staring out from their burrows without head or eye tracking. And a small mana signal, that would light up like sparks of electricity as the surveillance network automatically passed on ivan's orders to track her.

I tried to give clues that maybe her ancestor might pick up on. If ren doesnt make drastic movements nothing will happen, but if she does, things will get hairy.right now you will see a large number of homeless people and refugees. there will be a lot of doped up dissidents in the slums. And large caravans at the edge of town registering for emergency supply deports in the blackthorn empire. you also may encounter demon king operatives, but only if you stand out and make it an issue.
 
Darkbloom said:
“Okay, so… it starts with the usual ominous preamble. When the starless void eclipses the guiding light, the second dawn shall stir within the vessel unknowing.” He frowned. “Alright, so that’s probably referring to, you know… all that unpleasantness that happened recently. The void king shows up, divine energy vanishes, and now something—or someone—is supposed to wake up.”

He flipped a few more pages, eyes narrowing as he skimmed the encoded script. “Ah, here’s something a little more specific. From the heart of the forgotten temple, the beacon shall rise anew. Its light calls forth the one who walks the path once tread, whose hands shall mend what was broken, whose voice shall rouse the silent throne.” Elias exhaled through his nose. “That sure sounds like someone’s about to have a really inconvenient destiny.”

He glanced at Vivian. “Any guesses? Because unless you’ve got some long-lost heir to Uldyssian stashed away, I think this is implying a reincarnation scenario. Or at the very least, someone who’s about to get a lot of unwanted attention.” He tapped the page. “And since the beacon at the temple lit up for the first time in two millennia, it’s safe to say the countdown has officially started.”

Turning another page, he continued. “The trials shall break the unworthy and temper the chosen. The watchers shall rise, the earth shall stir, and the blade once buried shall thirst anew.” He paused, frowning. “Blade? Great, because nothing screams stable world events like a mysterious ancient weapon suddenly deciding it wants to be relevant again.”

Elias sighed, rubbing his temple. “You ever get the feeling the universe just throws these cryptic warnings out there for fun? Like, why not just say ‘Hey, guys, big trouble coming, prepare accordingly!’ instead of all this poetic doom-and-gloom nonsense?” He leaned back, giving Vivian a tired look. “So, what’s your best guess? Because I think we just found the plot of our next disaster.”
Click to expand...
Screenshot 2025-03-12 155018.png
Vivian
​
Vivian did not expect Elias to be able to read this transcript as well as he had. She smiled a little bit at his comments. They were always so frivolous and petty, but they reminded Vivian of her father who had fallen ill a decade ago. He was the hardest on her in the village and did not give her any respite, but they all saw his ailing health. The black patch originating from his stomach had began to overtake him by the time she was a child. He regretted his life and choices he had made until then, becoming embittered as time marched forward. However, he was only doing it because he did not forsee himself living to see his beloved daughter reach adulthood. So he drilled their religious practices and martial arts into her until vivian often passed out from exhaustion. And yet, she herself wished to be insulted once more. To be scoffed at for her subpar efforts by her father, one last time.

Despite the state of the world and knot in her chest, Elias was the spot of sunshine in her life. She often giggled at his sarcasm even if she didnt fully comprehend his mannerisms and slang. Yet it was the way he ate her cooking despite knowing she had no access to spices like the rich and the way he seemed to dig his nose into the archives that made her and the townspeople happy.

She was puzzled at first, taking in all his slang and cynical commentary. "reincarnation, the watchers, and cryptic warnings? What's that? anyways please sir, go over this section again", she said pointing to the passage about the temple's beacon. "please be thorough and do not comment on the contents please. What does it say about the purpose of its followers"? She asked, with tears welling in her eyes. Thunder was roaring in the distance and rain had been like a monsoon in a climate which would not get rain normally for 2 harvest moons. She was tired from hunts and taking care of the livestock. However, this to her, meant that maybe her purpose would be illuminated possibly.
 
Bacon is fluffy said:
View attachment 1220751
Ivan "rib setter" borowicz
​
In the frontier town of grom'engrad, bordering the blackthorn empire and a famous pit stop after venturing through the Karackestan mountain pass. While it was a town which maintained a facade of order with a normal government in compliance with the blackthorn rule, its real ruler was Ivan. A man who was scorned by the civil war with the Karackestan 100 years, he was burnt from head to toe. Now in his old age he is much akin to beef jerky, with a skinny figure who extenuates his bones. His eyes are black like a doll's eyes, but filled with spite and hatred. Throughout his body he was a host to a dozen insect species who use his mana as a lifesource and in return do his bidding.

The way this old man has made Grom'engrad his domain is through drug use, surveillance, and a little bit of forbidden magic as a vassal of the demon king. While most people, even mages are ignorant to his presence, even the most insignificant roach or scurrying mouse are as good as his own eyes. Allowing him to gather info quickly and put down competition before it is allowed to bud. He also has bred a species of poisonous spiders who have been biologically changed to be less deadly, but give a highly addictive rush akin to cocaine. Utilizing money, mob tactics and the above he has created a little kingdom for himself as the people went about their business without knowing what he was actually doing.

At the time of Griff's death, he was overseeing an experiment with an addictive adrenaline enhancer which tended to burn out one's mana core in the long term, but in the moment it could make an untrained warrior capable of cutting steel. Today he was overseeing it's use in childen, but the trial wasn't going so well. The children he kidnapped were all writhing on the floor and throwing up intensely in their pens. "It seems the poison is still too much for children. Begin diluting its effects until it can be tolerated by children". His assistants, most of which had their tongues removed nodded and went to work in the laboratory to modify said poisons. He felt nothing when griff's entourage died, but a blood vessel popped when griff did. He stopped and felt his body tremble. Immediately his consciousness traveled through an array of rodents and insects, pests if you will, until he reached the area where Ren was. He saw the zombies mimicking her movements. "number 83 did this? why she's just a drain on our resources and useless. what the", he said a little dumbfounded. He looked on at her with her necromantic powers and the sorcerer born flames that still burned in her wake. Something about her was off, Ivan saw it in her changed mannerisms. If experience taught him anything, especially in these chaotic times where he was being swamped by refugees and requests from neighboring provinces. Not to prod others if it can be helped.

Ivan ordered colonies of pests to monitor her movements and began having his subordinates printing her wanted posters. "print, but do not distribute yet, do you understand"? Ivan expected a small margin of error, but he gave the orders just to stimulate his underlings in a direction he needed later on. His pets would generally be indistinguishable from the real things, but their movements would be subtley different. You may see a roach in the daylight or perhaps mice staring out from their burrows without head or eye tracking. And a small mana signal, that would light up like sparks of electricity as the surveillance network automatically passed on ivan's orders to track her.

I tried to give clues that maybe her ancestor might pick up on. If ren doesnt make drastic movements nothing will happen, but if she does, things will get hairy.right now you will see a large number of homeless people and refugees. there will be a lot of doped up dissidents in the slums. And large caravans at the edge of town registering for emergency supply deports in the blackthorn empire. you also may encounter demon king operatives, but only if you stand out and make it an issue.
Click to expand...

  • Rennalor "Ren" NightBaron'
    1741871403860.png

    Ren tried not to look at all the wretches that lay around the area. Many where dead or looked to be, overdosed on Ivan's strange alchemistic weapons- turning their own minds against them as they became obsessed with the vile substances they consumed- either dying of its toxic properties or ending up in prison after stealing to get more. That pang to taste it still waited under the surface, joined by starvation and the general fear of Ivan. Her entire life had been spent working under him, the poisons she was forced to consume paling her skin and hair, leaving her to weak to fight for him when she was older. Many suffered this fate if left abandoned nearby- many of their parents killed by the very drugs they now peddled or stole to fund.

    Ren pulled her hood closer as she walked past, keeping an eye out for the boney sentinels- one had stayed close but out of sight, while the rest where gathered wherever her "father" was making her go. Instructions filled her head with every turn through the slums- and at one point Ren swore she saw a flash of red in the direction of the destination- orb shaped, almost like a skull. She feared whatever linked the pair wouldn't progress- hearing that damned voice in her head was maddening enough, but seeing the face that callously spoke might just driver her insane.

    "What matter of Pestilence has consumed this place? It seems like the White Horseman itself destroyed this place."

    Ren stayed quiet, not wanting to attract the attention of the Wretches or any of Ivan's goons who where nearby. The deaths would be found tonight when they didn't return with the money- though it was likely that Ivan would assume that the dead men had fled with a particularly good payload- possible with Ren considered to have gone with them. Some may assume that the more vile of the group had wanted her for the desires that her guide now spoke of when he thought of his many servants in a previous life. The drugs had left her stunted and scrawny, her albinism leaving her undesirable- which was good, being sold to Ivan's Whorehouses would be hell for anyone- many slightly attractive urchins scarring themselves to ensure they didn't suffer that fate.

    Ren watched for any matter of minion or spy, hoping she wouldn't be spotted out here- after all, she was supposed to be dead. crew leaders and lieutenants would have likely seen her name on the docket of loose threads to be dealt with, if they didn't just glance over any direct orders for their crews, though there was the danger of being recognized- she was supposed to be stealing until nightfall, before her crew carried out any night heists- using her as bait or a lookout.

    "We will have to kill the Mage that caused this unfortunately- even one with half our power could lead a rebellion. His leutenets as well, except for one of the more liked ones. How about this? We turn his men into undead husks and make them tear him limb from limb before leaving his skull in front of your lair- or an altar for me; we will need some attractive women to attend to it, maybe a Hybrid like Feline or Rabbit Folk..."

    The voice continued to drone on, speaking of his grandiose and the complexities of his demanded tributes for being Ren's Master. She tried to stop listening to the damned voice- get it to leave her be. For years she had wished for power, craving a way to escape her life and get revenge on Ivan's goons- but her wish had been granted with the amendment of a madman.

    Ren kept moving through the Shanties, eyes scanning everywhere for Ivan's spies. She had rarely seen him, but the more pathetic members such as herself whispered of his almost supernatural monitoring of his turf- catching even the most secretive deeds where it normally would be impossible to be caught .

    Any one of these souls could be a spy- did that man with the missing limb disappear to find his hovel or was he reporting the random appearance of an East-side member here. Ren inhaled for a moment before moving on- calming down as she soon reached the border of the Market. She was not important enough to keep tabs on- no one had seen her murders; she was nothing to them- She would show the error in that sentiment. The market was a bit more reputable than the slums- few major lords or middle class people would dwell here unless they where doing unsavory deals with Ivan- but in the corner was a set of signage, the first showing potential jobs- the other applicants.

    "We will need mercenaries- for now the cheapest will do; the generous donations of your compatriots should pay for a few inexperienced ones- maybe one of some skill to discipline the others and act as a personal guard."

 
Last edited:
Elias blinked at Vivian’s sudden shift in tone, his usual smirk faltering for just a moment. He wasn’t great with the whole emotions thing, but even he could tell when someone was on the verge of a breakdown. He glanced toward the storm outside, then back at her, her finger trembling slightly as she pointed at the passage.


He cleared his throat, opting—for once—to keep his usual quips to himself. "Alright, let’s go over it again," he said, tracing his fingers over the faded text. "This section here… it speaks of the beacon as more than just a signal. It’s a guide, a—" He hesitated, then rephrased, knowing she wanted it word-for-word. "The beacon is the eye that watches the trials of the faithful. When it shines, it calls forth those who would shape the path ahead. It does not choose; it reveals. Those who heed its light walk the steps of those before them. Those who turn away are lost to time."


He frowned, tapping the parchment. "Basically, it’s saying the beacon doesn’t pick people. It’s not some divine lottery ticket. It just lights up when someone who could carry on the legacy steps forward. That’s why it’s been dark for so long—no one fit the bill." He glanced at her, noting the exhaustion in her eyes. "But now? It's shining again."


He let the weight of that settle between them before adding, in a much softer voice, "Which means someone is walking that path now."

Name: Elias Vaughn

Age: 34

points available: 0

Strength: 11
dexterity: 32
mana: 61
mana sensitivity: 32
aura: 11
aura sensitivity: 12
luck: 51

titles:

boon: super archaeologist: gain wisdom from ruins easier and higher rate of technique and artifact acquisition.

inventory:

5 gold

Bacon is fluffy Bacon is fluffy
 
Hyphae said:
While the spirit didn’t really understand languages in the traditional sense, it like all nature spirits, possessed an innate capacity to understand, so as the supernaturally carried voice reached it, the sound was resolved into something the spirit could comprehend.

~The self’s awareness as to the voice of the other, shaped like a question; contorted through intent to help.~​
The spirit’s vestige turned its attention to the newcomer, suddenly aware of their presence, its simple mind forgetting its previous plans in a single moment. It noted that even had it not possessed the capacity to understand, the being had projected their intent imprinted upon their mana, a manner of communication not unlike a spirit's, if an incredibly crude approximation of one.

Was this person a druid in training? Or was this perhaps a common ability amongst non-druids? Intrigued, the spirit began to close the distance between the maybe-a-druid and itself, coming closer right up until it made physical contact with the human.

Just as the spirit didn’t understand human language in a traditional sense, it was unable to communicate through any true language. Though often referred to as ‘the language of the world’, the only thing shared between the method of communicating utilised by nature spirits and a true language was that both could be used to convey information between people.

Having never interacted with a human that wasn’t a druid, the spirit had no clue just how hard it was for the uninitiated to understand the language of the world, so it was only by some small miracle that when the vestige began pushing a tiny fraction of its mana into the human, it found that its diminished mental capacity made it too hard to imprint all but the simplest of concepts into its communication.

~Confusion shaped like a future, reaching out for important knowledge… An idea stemming from an accepted offer of help; a shape like the desire to be followed, bleeding into the idea of a location that is the self but more than the self.~​
Confident that the human understood that it had questions and wanted to lead them to its true body, the vestige, turned and began heading towards the road that Anathema had left for. The true body would be much better equipped to answer questions.
Click to expand...
Screenshot 2024-12-28 230821.png
​
Dale in his previous life would have met the druids a few years later due to his connection to nature. His love for plants and their cultivation had helped revolutionize the kingdom's harvests during the war with the demon king, but that's a subject for another day. He did not know how to read the fungi's signals, but the intention behind its signals seemed to be positive. The way it walked away didn't seem to convey fear, so Dale followed it toward the road it lead him to. However as he moved along with the strange rabbit, he noticed the trail of bugs that were left in its wake. He sensed the slight mana signals being generated from each one, but only when he concentrated really hard. As the rabbit hopped along, he took notes on its condition and how faint its life force seemed to be. Dale felt sad for the creature, but wanted to observe it as much as possible out of respect. All the while he kept sending out mana signals into the dirt as they walked. At least from the little he knew of fungi, it's they had networks in the ground to feed the trees. He hoped to find a clue before the clouds above unleashed their downpour.
 
Gears said:
Charlie himself was in a conundrum. He had fallen asleep first in the physical realm in order to enter the battle with the Void King- a simple and safe transportation, guided by Advisor Chan and the Heir of Solomon. Though this was safe for most, a psychic of the feywild would always be unpredictable- his powers unruly even with careful focus- and when was Charlie ever focused? Charlies connection to the Void was unstable even then, but managing to fall asleep within a dream was a feat Coffee would likely describe as "Inception." Charlie was plunged in a dream, his powers shifting memory into a whirlwind of emotion and light- an incoherent screaming into the void with no real appearance- just another day in Charlies mind.

Charlie thought of interesting jokes and rhymes as he waited for this half-asleep half awake nightmare to end. It wasn't that bad- just incomprehensible shapes and colors filling crashing together as Charlie waited- until the world began to shift and correct. Charlie had a body now, he could feel it- but it was dark. Whoever had crafted this place was sloppy- no light existed yet, but for the moment, Charlie was able to pace around the darkness- waiting for whoever had brought him in to do something- unaware that a third entity watched, The Mistress of Fear- the undead lady having sensed the Fey's mind, teetering in her domain of nightmares and horror- she didn't craft this place, but she watched in silence.
Click to expand...

Screenshot 2025-03-15 114127.png​
The butt of the former god of war slammed into the ground, causing a shockwave to fly out in all directions upon impact. The warrior who had passed away decades ago understood, these last vestiges of his soul were merely the result of the his powers mixing with the corruption of the void king. The Darkness lifted away like a fog, rendering charlie and the former god visible in the clearing. What surrounded them were visions of the past, more specifically the past which charlie had escaped from through death. They were surrounded by the fallen soldiers of the blackthorn empire, who were rotting and being eaten by ravenous wolf spirits. The sound of flesh ripping and bone crunching could be heard in all directions. Fires ravaged the country side, making the country into a giant furnace with giant plumes of smoke that climbed into the heavens and blotted out the sun. And here Charlie was, at the edge of the precipice where he spent his last days eating corpses and killing demons until his last breath.

"Remember why you are fighting, young fey. The Past you came from, is still the future you will return to if you do not hone your skills and fight"! His voice boomed like thunder. "Return the pits from whence you came. Fester in that wretched demon domain until you think of nothing else but battle. Or perish, fool". The war god's boot was planted into Charlie's chest, sending him careening into the same dark and damp catacombs he had fallen into as his friends in his previous life were being torn apart.

As the phantom looked down into the abyss, his grip tightened on his spear. "Make yourself scarce wench".

Gears said:
Ren tried not to look at all the wretches that lay around the area. Many where dead or looked to be, overdosed on Ivan's strange alchemistic weapons- turning their own minds against them as they became obsessed with the vile substances they consumed- either dying of its toxic properties or ending up in prison after stealing to get more. That pang to taste it still waited under the surface, joined by starvation and the general fear of Ivan. Her entire life had been spent working under him, the poisons she was forced to consume paling her skin and hair, leaving her to weak to fight for him when she was older. Many suffered this fate if left abandoned nearby- many of their parents killed by the very drugs they now peddled or stole to fund.

Ren pulled her hood closer as she walked past, keeping an eye out for the boney sentinels- one had stayed close but out of sight, while the rest where gathered wherever her "father" was making her go. Instructions filled her head with every turn through the slums- and at one point Ren swore she saw a flash of red in the direction of the destination- orb shaped, almost like a skull. She feared whatever linked the pair wouldn't progress- hearing that damned voice in her head was maddening enough, but seeing the face that callously spoke might just driver her insane.

"What matter of Pestilence has consumed this place? It seems like the White Horseman itself destroyed this place."

Ren stayed quiet, not wanting to attract the attention of the Wretches or any of Ivan's goons who where nearby. The deaths would be found tonight when they didn't return with the money- though it was likely that Ivan would assume that the dead men had fled with a particularly good payload- possible with Ren considered to have gone with them. Some may assume that the more vile of the group had wanted her for the desires that her guide now spoke of when he thought of his many servants in a previous life. The drugs had left her stunted and scrawny, her albinism leaving her undesirable- which was good, being sold to Ivan's Whorehouses would be hell for anyone- many slightly attractive urchins scarring themselves to ensure they didn't suffer that fate.

Ren watched for any matter of minion or spy, hoping she wouldn't be spotted out here- after all, she was supposed to be dead. crew leaders and lieutenants would have likely seen her name on the docket of loose threads to be dealt with, if they didn't just glance over any direct orders for their crews, though there was the danger of being recognized- she was supposed to be stealing until nightfall, before her crew carried out any night heists- using her as bait or a lookout.

"We will have to kill the Mage that caused this unfortunately- even one with half our power could lead a rebellion. His leutenets as well, except for one of the more liked ones. How about this? We turn his men into undead husks and make them tear him limb from limb before leaving his skull in front of your lair- or an altar for me; we will need some attractive women to attend to it, maybe a Hybrid like Feline or Rabbit Folk..."

The voice continued to drone on, speaking of his grandiose and the complexities of his demanded tributes for being Ren's Master. She tried to stop listening to the damned voice- get it to leave her be. For years she had wished for power, craving a way to escape her life and get revenge on Ivan's goons- but her wish had been granted with the amendment of a madman.

Ren kept moving through the Shanties, eyes scanning everywhere for Ivan's spies. She had rarely seen him, but the more pathetic members such as herself whispered of his almost supernatural monitoring of his turf- catching even the most secretive deeds where it normally would be impossible to be caught .

Any one of these souls could be a spy- did that man with the missing limb disappear to find his hovel or was he reporting the random appearance of an East-side member here. Ren inhaled for a moment before moving on- calming down as she soon reached the border of the Market. She was not important enough to keep tabs on- no one had seen her murders; she was nothing to them- She would show the error in that sentiment. The market was a bit more reputable than the slums- few major lords or middle class people would dwell here unless they where doing unsavory deals with Ivan- but in the corner was a set of signage, the first showing potential jobs- the other applicants.

"We will need mercenaries- for now the cheapest will do; the generous donations of your compatriots should pay for a few inexperienced ones- maybe one of some skill to discipline the others and act as a personal guard."
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Ivan had continued to monitor ren for about an hour, watching what seemed to him to be the rambling of a mad woman arguing with an immaterial being. "Is it a magic or a phenomenon I am unaware of, or has the drug finally took her mind"? He was leaning toward the former, but was unable to observe directly for much longer. A man in royal garb from the neighboring country was at the doorway leading to the casino in the market square. "It is time, Ivan". The old glanced at him with growing mana bubbling just beneath the surface, but he understood his part in this charade. He tapped the ground once to release some pent of mana in a flash of blue flames that escaped his walking stick. "Yes I am coming", he said with a blood shot eye trained on the ambassador. While he was away focused on pleasantries with the nobility, he would only be able to vaguely retrace ren's steps and not fully track her. However with the influx of goods and refugees in recent days, his attention was pulled away from the strange sorceress.

Ren would find herself in a market square full of shoddy stalls selling everything from monster parts to questionable street food that came from dingy looking cauldrons and iron pots. Many starving people would be seen trying to beg for food for their families, completely devoid of the drugs effects yet. Others would simply lie on the side of the road like discarded goods, watching the people with money enjoy their lives with their families. The scent of fresh bread and the illumination of brightly lit signs from magicians working as glorified batteries lit advertised things such as, hardy's tavern, crazy 8's casino, and crown jewel inn. Ren was headed toward the tavern, which had two broad shouldered knights in full steel garb, attending the entrance. From the inside rowdy patrons could be heard whistling at beautiful waitresses or jeering at the barkeep for another pint.

Bea
Gears said:
Bea picked up the device and put the attached necklace around her neck before turning too Norm– unmuting him. He looked a bit irked, glaring at Bea as she slipped cloak over her usual modern attire. She had left the more advanced equipment in the ship- the kind a greedy artificer might snatch up and pull apart to try and reverse engineer, risking the explosion of the more volatile weapons. For now she had her stun baton, her hover drone (Cloaked with invisibility), and her grenades, She could use a few of her other objects after she could properly disguise them as magical weapons- but for now this was all she had as she began her descent down the mountain- looking for any hint of civilization.
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Gears said:
Midea was the obvious choice, the quieter of the group- less temperamental and quick to action than the others- at least until Gold was brought into the equation, but once they reached town they would likely have Demonter take over. Midea was one of the smaller Parademons, with Evie, Thorne, and Arris being the smallest- while Sloa and Demonter towered over the Pale Tiefling.

She wandered for a while, carefully stepping over branches and roots as she looked for a proper path to whatever civilization lay ahead- any paths or water ways that could lead to food and shelter. The food Demonter had planted had fallen among the more toxic herbs (Thank Azazel they hadn't poisoned Bea), leaving little to no food for the group to use- hence why Thorne was forbidden control until they had a viable source of food- Midea feared she may try to eat a farmer if they didn't find her any candy.
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In a forest at the base of the mountain lied a settlement at the edge of the blackthorn empire, opposite to Ivan and north of Grell. It is a place governed by trolls, orcs, and goblins. The orcs of this settlement are the dominant group and a breakaway from the rest of society. Although they recognized Queen Blackthorn's desire to unite the mortal races, they could not forgive humans or trust the elves. Their view on the dwarves was tenuous at best, but the least hostile among the major races in the world. However, after the cleansing the queen initiated a century ago, they were aware that war with her meant the destruction of their society. The queen not wanting further hostilities, allowed them to settle separate from her people but there would be intermingling until they surrendered sovereignty to the empire.

Their settlement is not as advanced as the rest of the world's due to the unification through the magic towers. However, they were able to create valleys which made invading them harsh. With bridges that fell on command and poisonous ants that could down a knight wth a single sting, they were not totally at the mercy of any civilization. In the plains leading toward the rest of the empire but also an outpost to watch over the mountains to make sure nothing came through there, a crash could be heard for miles away. The wolf riding unit saw the massive haul of bea's ship and sent up signal flares. A beacon was lit from a fortress on the outskirts of the orc territory, causing other beacons to be lit until they reached the principle settlement. The color of the fires were green, which meant there was a need to be on their gaurd.

Grak, stared toward the heavens as the wind buffeted him. "Advance toward the strange flying boat, but do not show immediate hostility to any survivors of the crash, if any". A goblin captain crouched on a rooftop next to him and a troll captain looking toward the mystery nodded as well. "We shall return sir", the two said in unison. Goblins approached from the canopy using hook whiplines to pull them quickly through the tree top with wind mana powering their advance. Trolls approached from the roads and the tree line to prevent unnecessary clumping. Grak looked toward his soon, who seemed to be hesistant and gestured toward the crash.

With great reluctance, the mage orc and son of the chief advanced with the orc atop one of their broad shoulders.

Gears said:
Doc moved through the halls, soldiers glancing at him nervously. Even after a week most distrusted him- sure he had a good amount of witnesses to his character, with clients and minor lords across the land giving him letters in order to better find allies or exchange favors for his work in their lands. Because of this, Doc had gotten access to his lab- assistants and equipment; he had almost refilled his supplies other than the rarest of his potion ingredients. His boots echoed on the stone floors as he moved on, passing the other labs that had been set up.
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Lorelei, the royal scout
​
Queen blackthorn had sent her families' gaurdian to serve doc. The elder fairy who had lived for 1000 years now, was cynical and somewhat distrustful of humans innately. Whenever a rockslide would happen or a difficult situation caused by small confined places popped up, Lorelei was called in as the first to survey the situation. This time she understood the need for her involvement, undead dared to invade the sewers under the capital. What she didn't understand is why she needed to accompany a doctor like him. She sat on his shoulder for much of the trip down toward the sewers. A soldier accompanying him explaining the situation. " Mr. doc sir, remember to equip lightly. Maybes generally accel down there, but the confined space sometimes makes it hard to utilize magics. And soldiers such as myself can not go there because our weapons are too bulky. We risk getting caught on the tunnel walls and cieling or worse, hitting our companions".

The man gulped and looked down at doc's guns and ponders what they were. "So please keep that in mind sir, it's a delicate situation down there". The solder saw the fairy and gave her a curt nod before running off. Most empire personnel knew not to mess with royalty or else. Lorelei nodded, then looked back to doc as they headed down the stairs toward their destination. It was at the bottom of a drained levee, both sides made of reinforced marble. A gate was lifted at the bottom with a platoon of soliders doing preparations for the next group to venture in. The darkness from the sewers was pitch black beyond where the sunlight had reached. The undead had broken many of the systems that lit the cavernous sewer tunnels. Growls and howls could be heard from within, causing some of the men working near the mouth to tremble.

A group of unarmed soldiers and bandaged hands waited for doc at the bottom of the stairs. Some were skeptical and others interested in seeing the man who was leading the effort for a cure. One particularly nasty fellow stepped forward with his fists clenched and looked doc in the face. "You, I dont like you. Your scent is off. Besides, shouldn't you be in that lab with the stuffy mages"?


Gears said:
The pressure was deafening as Zyn descended into the inky darkness, with silt stinging a few cuts from training or falls during her heists. Her magic let her slightly see better. She had timed her ability to move underwater, and it was decently above what she likely was able to do before her contact with Bartuc. Zyn began to feel around the bottom of the pond- searching for any indication of the question mark. She had no idea what was waiting at the bottom- but soon she began to feel a hum- something similar to Bartucs psychic presence. Zyn felt her lungs begin to burn as she clawed at the sand- feeling polished metal as she closed something in her hands- quickly rising to the surface.
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Lana​
The mermaid slept, because what else was she to do? Her soul trapped in that damn bracelet for hundreds of years now after making a deal with the sea hag, all she could do was stare the artificial home she made for herself. The ocean looked real and felt real, but there was no life in it other than her. The rocks felt real, but they were artificial in nature. Everything was artificial and soon she couldn't tell what was accurate and waht was warped by her fading memory. As she lied in the purple sand, engulfed by the rainbow tide, something shocked her awake. She looked around for a moment and saw no changes. Her heart was racing, but perhaps it was just what she remembered a heartbeat to seem like. Still, the roused mermaid looked around and saw a crack in the sky. There she saw Zyn on the verge of death and a scary headless figure covered in blood stained armor. Lana smirked and thought she was cute, so she pointed at woman and willed her powers into her. Zyn soon would be able to breathe, so long as she followed her gut feeling and not her instincts to resist breathing in under water.
 
Grell

The moment Grell heard the strange voice inside of his head. He knew it sounded eerily familiar. It wasn't the sickeningly rich tones of Demon King Male'Kai nor was it like the course gruffness of Van Auger. This voice was like a knife scraping across stone. His mind could feel the depth of its age with every word it spoke. Now Grell could barely formulate a sentence whilst the people of Tulpa were happily celebrating the death of the lion beast around him. Yet he could feel a name or at least a few syllables forming on the tip of his tongue. A memory stirred, a time now lost to the sands of time. He saw a ruined tower, rolling dunes and a pair of ominous eyes staring from the shadows. The young warrior leaned against a wall while attempting to process what the being had said. Not only did it detect his Heavenly Frame but also the Mark of Vangurle. Someone able to recognize the demon kings mark would have to be ancient. One who could recognize the power of the Ulssydian was much rarer. Only a single word formed on the lips of Grell when his memories began to lose their haziness.

"Yal'Sadiq..." whispered Grell, recalling a time when Demon King Male'Kai had Vangurle and Hakim of the Red Sands destroy a certain tower within the Desert Regions. According to Mala'kai, there was an old and powerful Djinn sealed within the tower. Killing him would afford the Demon King the power to conquer every corner of the desert. Hakim of the Red Sands had lost an eye whereas Vangurle had several organs turned to ash. Hearing the razor-like voice of this dark presence stirred those memories. Grell placed his hand over his stomach as if worried he'd lose his organs AGAIN. Staring straight at the carrion bird tearing into the dead lion. He picked up the vulture by the scruff of its neck and asked Yal'Sadiq where he was. Obtaining whatever was in the tower under his own power this time would surely afford him the chance to defeat the Demon King once the whole situation with the Void King was settled. Grell was not giving up his goal to beat Mala'Kai. He was simply putting it off until AFTER their world was no longer threatened by outside forces.

Bacon is fluffy Bacon is fluffy
 
Darkbloom said:
Elias blinked at Vivian’s sudden shift in tone, his usual smirk faltering for just a moment. He wasn’t great with the whole emotions thing, but even he could tell when someone was on the verge of a breakdown. He glanced toward the storm outside, then back at her, her finger trembling slightly as she pointed at the passage.​


He cleared his throat, opting—for once—to keep his usual quips to himself. "Alright, let’s go over it again," he said, tracing his fingers over the faded text. "This section here… it speaks of the beacon as more than just a signal. It’s a guide, a—" He hesitated, then rephrased, knowing she wanted it word-for-word. "The beacon is the eye that watches the trials of the faithful. When it shines, it calls forth those who would shape the path ahead. It does not choose; it reveals. Those who heed its light walk the steps of those before them. Those who turn away are lost to time."


He frowned, tapping the parchment. "Basically, it’s saying the beacon doesn’t pick people. It’s not some divine lottery ticket. It just lights up when someone who could carry on the legacy steps forward. That’s why it’s been dark for so long—no one fit the bill." He glanced at her, noting the exhaustion in her eyes. "But now? It's shining again."


He let the weight of that settle between them before adding, in a much softer voice, "Which means someone is walking that path now."
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Screenshot 2025-03-15 154304.png
Vivian
​
Vivian's eyes tracked with Elias' finger as he traced the ancient tome. She nodded when he mentioned it was a guide and thought to herself, " So it's a signal of sorts" while scratching her chin. However when he spoke of the fact that it only shines for the chosen ones, it almost made her heart sink into her chest. A single tear coursed down her cheek as it dawned upon her, what it meant. "I see, I was hoping it wouldn't be so. Thank you Elias, please continue your research. My people thank you from the bottom of our hearts", she said gesturing to her heart. Without a moment to spare she pulled out her umbrella and headed to the front door. "The head priest will likely be here soon to confirm this and will want to find the ones walking the trials. So please, look for clues to help us find them". With that vivian left into the rain understanding her place in the world. She looked into the cruel heavens pelting her people and wondered if this was all she was meant to do.

"sorry father"

Gaius Danius Griinia Gaius Danius Griinia be sure to acknowledge the beacon in your next post at some point. :)
 
Gaius Danius Griinia said:
Grell

The moment Grell heard the strange voice inside of his head. He knew it sounded eerily familiar. It wasn't the sickeningly rich tones of Demon King Male'Kai nor was it like the course gruffness of Van Auger. This voice was like a knife scraping across stone. His mind could feel the depth of its age with every word it spoke. Now Grell could barely formulate a sentence whilst the people of Tulpa were happily celebrating the death of the lion beast around him. Yet he could feel a name or at least a few syllables forming on the tip of his tongue. A memory stirred, a time now lost to the sands of time. He saw a ruined tower, rolling dunes and a pair of ominous eyes staring from the shadows. The young warrior leaned against a wall while attempting to process what the being had said. Not only did it detect his Heavenly Frame but also the Mark of Vangurle. Someone able to recognize the demon kings mark would have to be ancient. One who could recognize the power of the Ulssydian was much rarer. Only a single word formed on the lips of Grell when his memories began to lose their haziness.

"Yal'Sadiq..." whispered Grell, recalling a time when Demon King Male'Kai had Vangurle and Hakim of the Red Sands destroy a certain tower within the Desert Regions. According to Mala'kai, there was an old and powerful Djinn sealed within the tower. Killing him would afford the Demon King the power to conquer every corner of the desert. Hakim of the Red Sands had lost an eye whereas Vangurle had several organs turned to ash. Hearing the razor-like voice of this dark presence stirred those memories. Grell placed his hand over his stomach as if worried he'd lose his organs AGAIN. Staring straight at the carrion bird tearing into the dead lion. He picked up the vulture by the scruff of its neck and asked Yal'Sadiq where he was. Obtaining whatever was in the tower under his own power this time would surely afford him the chance to defeat the Demon King once the whole situation with the Void King was settled. Grell was not giving up his goal to beat Mala'Kai. He was simply putting it off until AFTER their world was no longer threatened by outside forces.

Bacon is fluffy Bacon is fluffy
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Screenshot 2025-01-09 122226.pngScreenshot 2025-03-10 204054.png
The Demon king, Yal'Sadiq
​
The two demonic figures began to laugh, their voices ringed inside Grell's head like a chorus of nails scraping against a chalk board. Malekai grinded his boot into the subordinate who failed to find what asked for. His anger was perhaps heightened at hearing the name of his nemesis, especially from one of the fated ones. His heels grinded into the rib cage of the traitor knight from the blackthorn royal palace. The man begged for his life as blood flowed from his mouth. "What an interesting thing to say, grell. It seems you are acquainted with that desert roach". Yal'sadiq grinned and caused the vulture to bite grell's finger just to annoy him. "And how many times has it been that you failed to find what you are looking for, oh great conquerer. or should I say, dog who came back with his tail between his legs"?

The two of them laughed like good friends, but Grell was unfortunately the medium which they were using to communicate. "Touch what is mine, and I will find you old man", the demon king said finally crushing the knight beneath his foot, causing the heart to implode and blood to stain his favorite suit. "Let the fourth hunt begin, my friends! hahahahahahaha". Yal'sadiq turned his head to the children brought into his tomb and watched as the procession of sacrifices came forth.

"Let us begin, shall we?" Each child, one by one, was walked across a rickety rope bridge to the trapped demon. The first child was a boy no more than 8 years old. He was prodded by a spiney finger until he reached up for the spear trapping the demon and being forced to pull on it. The boy failed, his mind was fried and body smelled of charcoal. The corpse fell over before being kicked into a moat surrounding the demon. Dozens of children on the verge of death were hauled forward or tossed into a 30 foot deep ditch, the demon's minions searching for the one who will free yal'sadiq once again.
 
Elias watched as Vivian’s expression shifted, her curiosity melting into something far heavier, like a weight pressing down on her chest. He recognized that look—the quiet moment of realization when a person confronts a truth they were never prepared to hear. He’d seen it before in old excavation sites, when researchers unearthed records that shattered long-held beliefs. History had a nasty habit of not caring what people wanted to be true.


When a single tear traced its way down her cheek, Elias swallowed back whatever half-formed quip had been lingering on his tongue. The atmosphere had changed, and despite his usual habit of deflecting with sarcasm, now wasn’t the time. There was a quiet kind of reverence in this moment, as if even the archives themselves recognized the weight of what she had just realized.

Bacon is fluffy said:
"I see, I was hoping it wouldn't be so. Thank you Elias, please continue your research. My people thank you from the bottom of our hearts", she said gesturing to her heart.
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Elias scratched the back of his head, shifting uncomfortably. “Right. No pressure or anything,” he muttered. His tone was dry as ever, but there was something gentler beneath it. He glanced down at the ancient tome again, its faded ink holding the kind of answers that had just shaken her to her core. “I’ll keep looking.”


Without another word, she turned and made her way to the door, pulling out her umbrella as the sound of heavy rain echoed through the archive halls. Elias hesitated. Normally, this was where he’d toss out a parting joke—maybe something about her impeccable timing for dramatic exits, or how ancient prophecies really should come with footnotes—but the words caught in his throat. He just watched as she stepped outside, swallowed by the storm.


The rain lashed against the windows, relentless and unyielding. Elias sighed, rubbing a hand down his face before returning his attention to the book before him. “Find the ones walking the trials, huh?” He exhaled sharply, flipping back through the worn pages. “Sure, because tracking down vaguely defined ‘chosen ones’ in a world full of cryptic nonsense is so easy.”


His eyes scanned the text, searching for anything that might serve as a lead. Some kind of connection, some overlooked detail. He reached for another volume, carefully opening it as the candlelight flickered beside him.


Vivian had asked. And for reasons he didn’t entirely understand, Elias did care about finding the truth. Maybe it was because he was already knee-deep in ancient riddles, or maybe—just maybe—because there was something about the way she had looked at him just now, trusted him with this, that made it impossible to brush off.


Either way, he had work to do.

Name: Elias Vaughn

Age: 34

points available: 0

Strength: 11
dexterity: 32
mana: 61
mana sensitivity: 32
aura: 11
aura sensitivity: 12
luck: 51

titles:

boon: super archaeologist: gain wisdom from ruins easier and higher rate of technique and artifact acquisition.

inventory:

5 gold

Bacon is fluffy Bacon is fluffy
 
Bacon is fluffy said:
The butt of the former god of war slammed into the ground, causing a shockwave to fly out in all directions upon impact. The warrior who had passed away decades ago understood, these last vestiges of his soul were merely the result of the his powers mixing with the corruption of the void king. The Darkness lifted away like a fog, rendering charlie and the former god visible in the clearing. What surrounded them were visions of the past, more specifically the past which charlie had escaped from through death. They were surrounded by the fallen soldiers of the blackthorn empire, who were rotting and being eaten by ravenous wolf spirits. The sound of flesh ripping and bone crunching could be heard in all directions. Fires ravaged the country side, making the country into a giant furnace with giant plumes of smoke that climbed into the heavens and blotted out the sun. And here Charlie was, at the edge of the precipice where he spent his last days eating corpses and killing demons until his last breath.

"Remember why you are fighting, young fey. The Past you came from, is still the future you will return to if you do not hone your skills and fight"! His voice boomed like thunder. "Return the pits from whence you came. Fester in that wretched demon domain until you think of nothing else but battle. Or perish, fool". The war god's boot was planted into Charlie's chest, sending him careening into the same dark and damp catacombs he had fallen into as his friends in his previous life were being torn apart.

As the phantom looked down into the abyss, his grip tightened on his spear. "Make yourself scarce wench".


Ivan had continued to monitor ren for about an hour, watching what seemed to him to be the rambling of a mad woman arguing with an immaterial being. "Is it a magic or a phenomenon I am unaware of, or has the drug finally took her mind"? He was leaning toward the former, but was unable to observe directly for much longer. A man in royal garb from the neighboring country was at the doorway leading to the casino in the market square. "It is time, Ivan". The old glanced at him with growing mana bubbling just beneath the surface, but he understood his part in this charade. He tapped the ground once to release some pent of mana in a flash of blue flames that escaped his walking stick. "Yes I am coming", he said with a blood shot eye trained on the ambassador. While he was away focused on pleasantries with the nobility, he would only be able to vaguely retrace ren's steps and not fully track her. However with the influx of goods and refugees in recent days, his attention was pulled away from the strange sorceress.

Ren would find herself in a market square full of shoddy stalls selling everything from monster parts to questionable street food that came from dingy looking cauldrons and iron pots. Many starving people would be seen trying to beg for food for their families, completely devoid of the drugs effects yet. Others would simply lie on the side of the road like discarded goods, watching the people with money enjoy their lives with their families. The scent of fresh bread and the illumination of brightly lit signs from magicians working as glorified batteries lit advertised things such as, hardy's tavern, crazy 8's casino, and crown jewel inn. Ren was headed toward the tavern, which had two broad shouldered knights in full steel garb, attending the entrance. From the inside rowdy patrons could be heard whistling at beautiful waitresses or jeering at the barkeep for another pint.

Bea



In a forest at the base of the mountain lied a settlement at the edge of the blackthorn empire, opposite to Ivan and north of Grell. It is a place governed by trolls, orcs, and goblins. The orcs of this settlement are the dominant group and a breakaway from the rest of society. Although they recognized Queen Blackthorn's desire to unite the mortal races, they could not forgive humans or trust the elves. Their view on the dwarves was tenuous at best, but the least hostile among the major races in the world. However, after the cleansing the queen initiated a century ago, they were aware that war with her meant the destruction of their society. The queen not wanting further hostilities, allowed them to settle separate from her people but there would be intermingling until they surrendered sovereignty to the empire.

Their settlement is not as advanced as the rest of the world's due to the unification through the magic towers. However, they were able to create valleys which made invading them harsh. With bridges that fell on command and poisonous ants that could down a knight wth a single sting, they were not totally at the mercy of any civilization. In the plains leading toward the rest of the empire but also an outpost to watch over the mountains to make sure nothing came through there, a crash could be heard for miles away. The wolf riding unit saw the massive haul of bea's ship and sent up signal flares. A beacon was lit from a fortress on the outskirts of the orc territory, causing other beacons to be lit until they reached the principle settlement. The color of the fires were green, which meant there was a need to be on their gaurd.

Grak, stared toward the heavens as the wind buffeted him. "Advance toward the strange flying boat, but do not show immediate hostility to any survivors of the crash, if any". A goblin captain crouched on a rooftop next to him and a troll captain looking toward the mystery nodded as well. "We shall return sir", the two said in unison. Goblins approached from the canopy using hook whiplines to pull them quickly through the tree top with wind mana powering their advance. Trolls approached from the roads and the tree line to prevent unnecessary clumping. Grak looked toward his soon, who seemed to be hesistant and gestured toward the crash.

With great reluctance, the mage orc and son of the chief advanced with the orc atop one of their broad shoulders.


View attachment 1221287
Lorelei, the royal scout
​
Queen blackthorn had sent her families' gaurdian to serve doc. The elder fairy who had lived for 1000 years now, was cynical and somewhat distrustful of humans innately. Whenever a rockslide would happen or a difficult situation caused by small confined places popped up, Lorelei was called in as the first to survey the situation. This time she understood the need for her involvement, undead dared to invade the sewers under the capital. What she didn't understand is why she needed to accompany a doctor like him. She sat on his shoulder for much of the trip down toward the sewers. A soldier accompanying him explaining the situation. " Mr. doc sir, remember to equip lightly. Maybes generally accel down there, but the confined space sometimes makes it hard to utilize magics. And soldiers such as myself can not go there because our weapons are too bulky. We risk getting caught on the tunnel walls and cieling or worse, hitting our companions".

The man gulped and looked down at doc's guns and ponders what they were. "So please keep that in mind sir, it's a delicate situation down there". The solder saw the fairy and gave her a curt nod before running off. Most empire personnel knew not to mess with royalty or else. Lorelei nodded, then looked back to doc as they headed down the stairs toward their destination. It was at the bottom of a drained levee, both sides made of reinforced marble. A gate was lifted at the bottom with a platoon of soliders doing preparations for the next group to venture in. The darkness from the sewers was pitch black beyond where the sunlight had reached. The undead had broken many of the systems that lit the cavernous sewer tunnels. Growls and howls could be heard from within, causing some of the men working near the mouth to tremble.

A group of unarmed soldiers and bandaged hands waited for doc at the bottom of the stairs. Some were skeptical and others interested in seeing the man who was leading the effort for a cure. One particularly nasty fellow stepped forward with his fists clenched and looked doc in the face. "You, I dont like you. Your scent is off. Besides, shouldn't you be in that lab with the stuffy mages"?



The mermaid slept, because what else was she to do? Her soul trapped in that damn bracelet for hundreds of years now after making a deal with the sea hag, all she could do was stare the artificial home she made for herself. The ocean looked real and felt real, but there was no life in it other than her. The rocks felt real, but they were artificial in nature. Everything was artificial and soon she couldn't tell what was accurate and waht was warped by her fading memory. As she lied in the purple sand, engulfed by the rainbow tide, something shocked her awake. She looked around for a moment and saw no changes. Her heart was racing, but perhaps it was just what she remembered a heartbeat to seem like. Still, the roused mermaid looked around and saw a crack in the sky. There she saw Zyn on the verge of death and a scary headless figure covered in blood stained armor. Lana smirked and thought she was cute, so she pointed at woman and willed her powers into her. Zyn soon would be able to breathe, so long as she followed her gut feeling and not her instincts to resist breathing in under water.
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  • Charlie"Fast-Hands"
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    The Harrengon-born felt around the area, his sight still concealed until he saw light- a hope in this darkness. Until he saw the familiar sights of battle. Rot was already lingering- the moans of the wounded and dying- mournful cries of the few survivors. For years, Charlie had sung the songs of heroes and warriors- the most common tale people wanted. Those stories spoke nothing of the rot- the men laying dead with blood spilt like wineskins. He watched as the monsters fed on the creatures- scarfing down on any organs that had been revealed by the more gruesome wounds- the eyes would go after that, then Stop- can't think about that.

    That hunger still creeped on the edges of his mind, begging for release. Even when those weeks of terror had been rewritten- the damage still waited in his mind. He thought he had confronted it in the world tree, but it still lingered- intensified by the ruined battle that surrounded him. He could smell it all- the cooked flesh, spilt blood. His mind was filled with days when he was more animal than man- caked in the blood of his wounds and his prey. His stomach growled as he stared at the expanse of corpses- ripe for the taken.

    he snapped out of his stupor as he heard it- the War God. His very being was infused with rage- recognizing who had shaped this nightmare, using his past horrors to mold him into a weapon. I already fought the monster- but he still felt the bloodlust of those times; his boon and mind still urging him to kill. "I-I can't. I don't want to become the monster." He shuttered at the image of the creature. Wild eyes, pale shallow skin- horrific wounds covering his body- uncared for by a tortured soul, too wild to think of binding his wounds.

    He looked at the god in horror as he was kicked into the void- his screams accompanied by others- his friends. Cut down by demons and monsters. The screams filled his ears as he fell- the inky darkness returning as he pulled on his ears- wishing to tear them out in desperation and fear, until he saw the ground- shadowed as it was. His mutant vision allowed him to see some of the place. That statue stared up at him, his face solemn and sad. He had never really looked upon it, but this time he took more notice of his prison. He held his hat close as he shifted his weight- pulling the staff from his hat. Charlie gritted his teeth as the sword approached- quickly using his own weapon to alter his trajectory- instead landing on the hard ground.

    Fear Mistress watched with glee, enjoying a good nightmare- masterfully crafted. The kick being a nice touch, dramatic- falling into vast darkness. Plenty of fear: fear of the unknown, fear of regression, fear of battle- perfectly tailored. The mask she wore remained in the maddened smile, staring at the carnage with a bit of distaste. She would have filled the battleground with every murder the Fey had committed- maybe some more changes to the world itself to lend more terror. Blood red skies, maybe oceans of tar- though the hellish nightmares where easy. She did not falter when the God noticed her, turning to him. "Do not fear- I am simply observing my domain; my master expressed some interest so in turn I am interested- and the Fey mutants have always been an interest of mine, the balance between humanity and whimsy- teetering on the edge of madness."

 
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Anathema's Vestige | Forest​
The rabbit-host hopped along in the direction of the road it had found just days beforehand. Every now and then it would look behind itself, double checking that Dale was still in tow; a task it made in no way easy as it unerringly followed the shortest path towards its destination – lacking both the perspective and mental faculties to consider whether any given path would actually accommodate the larger creature.

As the first drops of rain started to pitter-patter against the ground, the rabbit emerged from the edge of the forest, its eyes – fogged over by the mycelium that had spread with its second rebirth – soon locked upon the road.

Several long seconds passed as the rabbit seemed to think before it finally processed what it was looking at and a sense of dull confusion settled upon it; the human trail was huge – stretching as far as the rabbit could see in both directions – and it had absolutely no idea which way the primary-host had gone.

The rabbit gave a slow confused look to the left and then to the right. Then it repeated the motion several times over, as though the repetition itself might somehow force reality to reveal some clue to it. When no such clue manifested itself, the rabbit instead turned to Dale, hopefully hopping over to the botanist, as though he might somehow be able to provide it with answers, just as the druids once had once been destined to do for its past self.

~Disorientation stemming from a trail lost… A hole shaped like knowledge: a path to destination-self mirrored by a path that lies… a desire for help.~​

Anathema | Road to ????​
Though Anathema didn’t look up as it started to rain, the spirit did give something akin to a mental grimace. Though only the first pattering of rain had landed, the spirit knew through a combination of instinct and experience, that the downpour would soon grow in intensity.

Though at virtually any point prior to that day, Anathema would have likely considered such a development to be a good thing – a boon for the plants that made up its domain and beyond – today for once it was unsure.

Just how well could a human body – lacking almost entirely in fur, feather, or scale – stand up to such weather? The spirit had observed the druids to endure, so it was unlikely to be immediately lethal, but at the same time, those same druids had often sought to avoid the rain where possible, so it was probably at least somewhat harmful.

Concerned, the spirit weighed up their options, then reluctantly decided that it would be worth pushing their host body a bit harder to increase their pace. The body would surely give out sooner for the increased effort, but it seemed reasonable to assume the rain would make it deteriorate even sooner still.


Of course, what neither Anathema nor the rabbit-host had any possible way of knowing, was just how close they were to catching one another; for all the rabbit’s pathing had likely given Dale hell, its small body and higher mobility had gotten it through the forest in a fraction of the time it had taken the main body.

Then again, whether the due would end up picking the right direction to actually end up catching Anathema, remained an open question.
 
Darkbloom said:
Elias watched as Vivian’s expression shifted, her curiosity melting into something far heavier, like a weight pressing down on her chest. He recognized that look—the quiet moment of realization when a person confronts a truth they were never prepared to hear. He’d seen it before in old excavation sites, when researchers unearthed records that shattered long-held beliefs. History had a nasty habit of not caring what people wanted to be true.


When a single tear traced its way down her cheek, Elias swallowed back whatever half-formed quip had been lingering on his tongue. The atmosphere had changed, and despite his usual habit of deflecting with sarcasm, now wasn’t the time. There was a quiet kind of reverence in this moment, as if even the archives themselves recognized the weight of what she had just realized.




Elias scratched the back of his head, shifting uncomfortably. “Right. No pressure or anything,” he muttered. His tone was dry as ever, but there was something gentler beneath it. He glanced down at the ancient tome again, its faded ink holding the kind of answers that had just shaken her to her core. “I’ll keep looking.”


Without another word, she turned and made her way to the door, pulling out her umbrella as the sound of heavy rain echoed through the archive halls. Elias hesitated. Normally, this was where he’d toss out a parting joke—maybe something about her impeccable timing for dramatic exits, or how ancient prophecies really should come with footnotes—but the words caught in his throat. He just watched as she stepped outside, swallowed by the storm.


The rain lashed against the windows, relentless and unyielding. Elias sighed, rubbing a hand down his face before returning his attention to the book before him. “Find the ones walking the trials, huh?” He exhaled sharply, flipping back through the worn pages. “Sure, because tracking down vaguely defined ‘chosen ones’ in a world full of cryptic nonsense is so easy.”


His eyes scanned the text, searching for anything that might serve as a lead. Some kind of connection, some overlooked detail. He reached for another volume, carefully opening it as the candlelight flickered beside him.


Vivian had asked. And for reasons he didn’t entirely understand, Elias did care about finding the truth. Maybe it was because he was already knee-deep in ancient riddles, or maybe—just maybe—because there was something about the way she had looked at him just now, trusted him with this, that made it impossible to brush off.


Either way, he had work to do.

Name: Elias Vaughn

Age: 34

points available: 0

Strength: 11
dexterity: 32
mana: 61
mana sensitivity: 32
aura: 11
aura sensitivity: 12
luck: 51

titles:

boon: super archaeologist: gain wisdom from ruins easier and higher rate of technique and artifact acquisition.

inventory:

5 gold

Bacon is fluffy Bacon is fluffy
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Vivian, Sect Elder:Chu​

When the storm broke Vivian returned in tow with her sect's leader. He was a man adorned with trinkets both old and new, many with age that probably rivaled the gods themselves. Small glyphs flickered in the light, as if taking note of Elias independently. Chu himself although slower than Vivian, carried himself with an air of dignity and strength. Stood upright, he was nearly 7 feet tall with a long silver beard cleaner than most people's hair. He paused for a moment to look on at Elias before turning to Vivian who nodded back to him. He brought his hand to his mouth and coughed to try and break the tension in the room before saying, " I understand you are the mysterious scholar my disciple has not stopped talking about", as he said this, his religious symbols all shook in Elias' presence. "I also understand you are not only not of our people, but likely not of our world". He paused and tried to look Elias in the eyes first before saying, " And I also wanted to thank you for uncovering such secrets and texts that have been lost even to myself and the council, for little more than the meager board we can afford to you".

Vivian stepped forward and said, "Yes, thank you Elias. you really are like a hero to us, so we hope you will cooperate with us moving forward. There is...", she said trailing off to look toward the elder. He nodded and she continued, " A dwarven mine we want to examine. We believe there are treasures and other goods hidden in its deep caves, but no one has had access to them for over 2000 years. I was hoping you'd accompany us as we prepare to meet the chosen ones".

Gears said:
The Harrengon-born felt around the area, his sight still concealed until he saw light- a hope in this darkness. Until he saw the familiar sights of battle. Rot was already lingering- the moans of the wounded and dying- mournful cries of the few survivors. For years, Charlie had sung the songs of heroes and warriors- the most common tale people wanted. Those stories spoke nothing of the rot- the men laying dead with blood spilt like wineskins. He watched as the monsters fed on the creatures- scarfing down on any organs that had been revealed by the more gruesome wounds- the eyes would go after that, then Stop- can't think about that.

That hunger still creeped on the edges of his mind, begging for release. Even when those weeks of terror had been rewritten- the damage still waited in his mind. He thought he had confronted it in the world tree, but it still lingered- intensified by the ruined battle that surrounded him. He could smell it all- the cooked flesh, spilt blood. His mind was filled with days when he was more animal than man- caked in the blood of his wounds and his prey. His stomach growled as he stared at the expanse of corpses- ripe for the taken.

he snapped out of his stupor as he heard it- the War God. His very being was infused with rage- recognizing who had shaped this nightmare, using his past horrors to mold him into a weapon. I already fought the monster- but he still felt the bloodlust of those times; his boon and mind still urging him to kill. "I-I can't. I don't want to become the monster." He shuttered at the image of the creature. Wild eyes, pale shallow skin- horrific wounds covering his body- uncared for by a tortured soul, too wild to think of binding his wounds.

He looked at the god in horror as he was kicked into the void- his screams accompanied by others- his friends. Cut down by demons and monsters. The screams filled his ears as he fell- the inky darkness returning as he pulled on his ears- wishing to tear them out in desperation and fear, until he saw the ground- shadowed as it was. His mutant vision allowed him to see some of the place. That statue stared up at him, his face solemn and sad. He had never really looked upon it, but this time he took more notice of his prison. He held his hat close as he shifted his weight- pulling the staff from his hat. Charlie gritted his teeth as the sword approached- quickly using his own weapon to alter his trajectory- instead landing on the hard ground.

Fear Mistress watched with glee, enjoying a good nightmare- masterfully crafted. The kick being a nice touch, dramatic- falling into vast darkness. Plenty of fear: fear of the unknown, fear of regression, fear of battle- perfectly tailored. The mask she wore remained in the maddened smile, staring at the carnage with a bit of distaste. She would have filled the battleground with every murder the Fey had committed- maybe some more changes to the world itself to lend more terror. Blood red skies, maybe oceans of tar- though the hellish nightmares where easy. She did not falter when the God noticed her, turning to him. "Do not fear- I am simply observing my domain; my master expressed some interest so in turn I am interested- and the Fey mutants have always been an interest of mine, the balance between humanity and whimsy- teetering on the edge of madness."
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​
"That's where you're wrong, wench. My time is over, but Charlie? He will take your master's head one day", he said sternly, before looking back at the darkness before him. This world was not of his making completely, but rather, a glimpse into the future using the last of his divine magic. He simply pulled it from the dark corners of charlie's mind. A thump erupted from the crevice, signaling the fall was complete. "YOU SAW IT YOURSELF CHARLIE, THE IMPENDING DOOM COMING TO OUR WORLD. YOU DO NOT HAVE THE LUXURY TO WAIT 10 YEARS OR TO GROW UP. YOU WILL EXPERIENCE IT AGAIN IF YOU DONT FIGHT!

The god of war leapt into the chasm with him, falling to the ground a meteor striking the earth. He stood up and towered over charlie casting a shadow that engulfed him. Before the fey child was the system screen he was ignoring this whole time. It did not move from his gaze and would not until he read it. On it, the timer jumped erratically, slowly plummeting toward 0. The timer a few of the others believed to be 10 years was slowly being eroded away and it was not stopping. The war god pointed his trembling spear toward a monster ripping into a dead soldier. It knew they were present, but compared to a 300 pound 10 foot tank, charlie was a twig. The monsters with their grisly teeth smiled, brandishing razor sharp sickles that rendered flesh into nothing but sinew and entrails. The sound of bone finally crunching and in fighting could be heard in the distance.

"charlie, you must fight. The only way to hold the night at bay, is to embrace battle". The bluster was gone from his voice, but still the war god thrust himself forward and slaughtered the demons with one fell swoop. The decay in his exposed arms slowed ever so slightly. " To fight your madness, you must embrace battle as a focus. If you do not, all of this will be for naught".

Gears said:
Ren looked down- trying not to look at the wretches. Some had succumbed to the drugs- that same vice she hid from. She tossed a coin to one stall, grabbing a half-ripe fruit as she moved, wanting some energy before she looked for some help. She wished she looked better- the cloak she wore still caked in mud and filth, eyes tired- hair wild. She shook her head, straightening her hair a bit. Appearances wouldn't matter, she had power now- unbridled and controlled by a psychopath, but enough to start her new life.

She stared up at the knights as she tried to pass, hoping they didn't kick her out. She opened the door and moved inside, trying to avoid the more unsavory patrons. She looked around- plenty of warriors and adventurers found themselves in these places- for whatever reason the heroes and villains of this world gathered here before quests, maybe she could snatch a few up for her own designs. She sat down at an empty table and ate her fruit, looking at each patron- looking for any clues as to their skill and ability.
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??​
The tavern Ren entered was full of many different types indeed. From the losers who congregate together and try to steal for cash, to the S rank adventurers indulging in carnal pleasures and drugs. The tavern was known for bringing all sorts of folks, good or bad. Here your dreams could be realized or perhaps shattered because a patron got angry and broke a bottle over your head for nothing. Ren who was surrounded by music and interested by standers who whispered amongst eachother suddenly would find herself alone. A girl, who was more of a blur would appear by her side, tapping her shoulder before finding her way across the table from ren in the blink of an eye. She would reappear sitting in a chair with its back support facing toward ren, resting her head it for support. "Ivan should know to tell you pests to stay away. But the boss likes your guts, girl. What can I do ya for"?

The girl was soft spoken, but many heard it for the first time. Those who had seen her before knew she was this district's executioner and with the influx of refugees, she was even more likely to behead you before revealing herself. There she was now, asking the unassuming ren why she was here. It caused the patrons to all focus on the two petite girls.

Gears said:
Midea had moved a snort distance from the crash when she saw the sudden light. Hundreds of horrors filled her mind as she panicked- was it the rockets of CyberFeline Police from the year 193813- or was it the result of the Jerry Army- the rogue clones that had devastated the time simply known as The Era of Jerry. Midea was the reasonable demon. The others were consumed by their sin- she had even once tried joining a random church to get rid of the psychopaths. She was the original- real, why where they all in her body- making her go insane. She panicked, falling to the ground as she held on to her tail- the previous panic making it move erratically- she needed some gold- just a little to calm down, taste a bit of the beutiful warmness and light- that would put her back to normal. She should just let one of the others have control for a bit- Anyone could find her gold it would be Thorne.

The Smaller Demonborn smiled as she took control, fixing her cape before charging into the woods. Surely there would be some manner of food- bugs, deer- maybe even people. Thorne did not discriminate- all was delicious food in her eyes, ripe for the taking. She would consume all that crossed her path, dine on every bone- suck the marrow from bones. She cackled as she thought of her plans- maybe she could finally catch that stupid god- whichever one she had encountered a few years back; she would devour the fool- a perfect meal before she ate the universe. She smiled and skipped through the woods- right into the path of the Orc Party. She immediately thought of the perfect recipe for Orc flesh- maybe make some bone broth on the side- she just had to get the larger food into a false sense of security before she could strike. She made sure the Translation device was on, waiting for it to pick up any of their speech before she could speak.

"Oh thank the Gods of This Era- I was starting to think no one would find me."
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When Midea tried to play it off like she was friendly, an arrow was loosed toward her and landed square between her two legs as she was about to take another step. "aye demon, you best be staying right where we can see you". The voice bounced around the canopy as the earth began to tremble. The trolls were slowly beginning the surround her position, the vangaurd showing up in nothing more than garb to conceal their genitals. The clubs were mostly branches from enchanted trees called treasure trees. With bark as hard as iron and the structural integrity of mythril, these trees were said to be driven to extinction centuries ago until the orks found a small forest of them a generation ago. The leaves above the canopy rustled a bit, maybe a few leaves fell to the ground, only a few leaps could be heard above or the notching of an arrow if ones senses were acute enough. "Put your hands on your head and lie face down in the dirt if you dont wish to die", said the voice. Mana to those aware of it, was beginning to emanate from the tree top. If there was one thing goblins were good at, it was cowardly guerilla warfare.


Gears said:
Doc did not object when his ally- the strange Fairy that had arrived at the queens orders. He did not often work with others in the regard of his usual profession- fearing infection of others when he did not have to worry about such issues. A smaller creature such as this would be devastating if turned- small enough to avoid detection, difficult to kill, and fast. Doc was used to dealing with the more common infected- of average size for humanoids- the usual size for his weapons. though those same regards could protect his companion- it would be unlikely that the giant creatures would be able to harm her at her size- at least unable to bite her while leaving her intact in order to turn her to the undead.

"My weapons are adaptable to many battlefields. I will manage without too much perquisites from your quarter master."

Doc grabbed a shortsword as he moved on- knowing that the tight confines would require some more suitable weapons. He carried some medical supplies with him, along with the guns and ammo- though their use would be minimal with the risk of ricochet- the possibility of a bullet infecting a man was possible- it had happened, an untrained shot going through the brain of an infected and into the flesh of a soldier. Doc did not shake at the sounds of the creatures he hunted- it bolstered him. They wished for release from their prisons, and he would do so with brutal efficiency.

He stayed quiet as the soldier confronted him. He was simply looking for any errors in their treatments- moving to fix the bandages on one man as the man still yelled. The comment of smell caught him off guard- perhaps some could sense his true nature, that secret he kept close- but he did not hesitate. Even before he had begun his quest he was seen as strange- a man of knowledge in a simple farming communities. He and his father offering strange treatments and medicine. His family had a bit more money than the rest of the folk, but it set him apart- he was used to being different.

"My duty is to deal with the infection in any way. I am trained to treat it in the setting of a lab or a battlefield. I will not hamper your efforts- I only wish to kill these abominations once and for all."
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Lorelei, the royal scout​
The fairy observed the man she was told to accompany with an air of curiosity. She chose to say nothing because not even the queen could quell dissent if the person was the source of it. The fact that these men were so gaurd did put her off, but then, even doc himself was the same way. More than stoic, he was like an unreadable stone wall. She was not sure how to gauge his actions other than knowing there was zeal behind his movements. When it came to the undead, he moved with purpose and gave no impression of even an ounce of fear. The meeting had begun between the 5 captains, the lead, and doc. It was explained the undead under the capital were growing wise to lorelei and employing spiders to form webs to impede her progress. While her spirit fire could extinguish such webs, it often alerted the enemy to her position and blew her cover. Now the major pipeways were laden with webs enhanced by mana. " Thus, it has been determined this is the work of a necromancer. The undead this time are being controlled by a mage. The signs are all there, the radius of defenses, the spell formations we have to remove every day. The ever changing appearance underground..while illusion in nature, is jarring when combined with the sheer dark". He paused, squinting his eyes and rubbing his temples. "Thus we believe there is perhaps a teleportation formation or worse, a traitor letting them in. So keep your gaurd up down there. Our goal is the first major pipeway leading to the ocean. Now move"!

Lorelei was a little apprehensive because the prospect of a smart undead, meant we may be feeding him more corpses. She looked to doc, wondering what he'd say or do in response to this news.

Gears said:
Zyn felt her limbs grow heavy- the water consuming her. It pulled her under- soothing her numerous aches from training. The cold pricked at her fingertips, the darkness filling her vision until she felt a shift- something new. The once inky darkness became clear- the fish and plants hidden previously illuminated, and she marveled at the life. She had always been trapped in cities and ruins- the forest too untamed and dangerous, but this was beautiful. She stared at it in wonder, the passing fish with the shimmering scales- reaching a hand to a ribbon of sea grass as it waved lazily before her.

After a moment she realized the strangeness of the situation as oxygen returned to her brain, freeing her from the stupor. She sank to the sea bed, still looking around warily as she looked closer at the bracelet, feeling the power hidden within- a life she was now connected with. She had been too weak to try and resist the flood of relief- unable to make a deal like she did with Bartuc- so she would have to hope that whatever water spirit had saved her was benevolent. She put the bracelet on, looking around before speaking- surprised it worked, but she guessed the breathing allowed for speech- though who knows if anyone besides her could hear. "Hello?"
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Lana
​
Lana looked up at the artificial sky to see the young woman sitting at the bottom of the lake as if it was natural. She tilted her and examined the woman, who seemed confused but not frightened. It honestly made lana wonder what she had been through and why she seemed so at home under the waves. " excuse me", she said in a soft alluring voice." why does it seem like you are so natural when it comes to breathing under water? Are you not a human"? Lana also looked to her blade, which was contrasted with the girl, emanating a dark sinister aura that made her stomach turn. This girl vexed Lana, but she could not do much but wait for her reply.

Hyphae said:
The rabbit-host hopped along in the direction of the road it had found just days beforehand. Every now and then it would look behind itself, double checking that Dale was still in tow; a task it made in no way easy as it unerringly followed the shortest path towards its destination – lacking both the perspective and mental faculties to consider whether any given path would actually accommodate the larger creature.

As the first drops of rain started to pitter-patter against the ground, the rabbit emerged from the edge of the forest, its eyes – fogged over by the mycelium that had spread with its second rebirth – soon locked upon the road.

Several long seconds passed as the rabbit seemed to think before it finally processed what it was looking at and a sense of dull confusion settled upon it; the human trail was huge – stretching as far as the rabbit could see in both directions – and it had absolutely no idea which way the primary-host had gone.

The rabbit gave a slow confused look to the left and then to the right. Then it repeated the motion several times over, as though the repetition itself might somehow force reality to reveal some clue to it. When no such clue manifested itself, the rabbit instead turned to Dale, hopefully hopping over to the botanist, as though he might somehow be able to provide it with answers, just as the druids once had once been destined to do for its past self.

~Disorientation stemming from a trail lost… A hole shaped like knowledge: a path to destination-self mirrored by a path that lies… a desire for help.~​
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Dale​
Dale scribbled some notes as he observed the rabbit or what was left of it. The more he became curious what it was. The rabbit was clearly not a normal undead that was the result of an infection, or at least a traditional one. It was not reanimated by a baser instinct to consume flesh without regulation. Dale slid down a vine and used it to control his descent at the rabbit used the undergrowth leading down a hill to try and find its destination. If only for the faint signal it gave off from the mycelium, he would have lost it. The other mycelium naturally occuring in the wild gave off a single monotone resonance, but the rabbit's frequency bounced off the under layered network. He would place his hand on the ground and expand his senses to try and find the two repelling forces. During the extended walk he rarely lost it per se, because it wasn't that fast. All he knew was unlike a rabbit, the way it looked back at him meant there was some sort of sapience, to what degree, he was not sure.

It was then the rabbit stopped in its tracks and looked at dale. Despite the decay and the fungi covering its eyes, he could not help but smile. it was its insistence and attention toward him that signalled a desire for attention, but it was the way he looked at him without moving that made him sure there was a problem. Its aura was slightly different, it directed its attention square on him. The young man knelt down and began to rummage in his spatial dimension storage(his bag), when something familiar pulsated to the east ever so slightly. Just like the rabbit, it repelled against the rest of the mycelium already in the environment. "you must be looking for what is other there, maybe"? Dale wrapped the rabbit in a towel and hoisted the creature in his arms. '' Let's go see what is over there", he said with a smile. Ofcourse despite his demeanor he was screaming internally at the smell of the thing, but his curiosity won today.

Interactions: Hyphae Hyphae Gears Gears Darkbloom Darkbloom

-----

The walk down the corridor was lonely. The bright fires that lit the path betrayed the tone in the room. If anything, they were an ominous harbinger of doom for the man solemnly making his way to the massive doors in the distance. He looked down at this arms bound by chains. To his flanks were other spirits who had served in great wars throughout the universe. He felt almost like a big shot to have such an entourage of former hopes of their respective worlds, fated ones who served their purpose in life and found their calling working for the order. The man looked around to see some built like tanks and others as dainty as a house of twigs. Some were beautiful even to a 10000 year old mage and others were revolting drug addicts who were snorting something even in the hall of heroes.

Here the man was, once a hero and symbol, now a prisoner. He watched as the 50 foot doors parted to open the path toward a panel of judges. One's place on the counsel was indicated on the podium like panel, with the lowest rungs being the newest recruits and the top of the pyramid being geezers who were there since the foundation of the organization, people who knew solomon himself. The man looked up at his judge and former friend, Tyrannus Lannister. An angel surrounded in flaming jewels with muscles still plump and toned as when he was 20 years old. His beard being the only indication of his age as it drooped to the floor while he rested his head on one hand. To his flanks by contrast where beautiful women fanning him and offering him grapes. Yet he paid them no mind and locked his gaze on the lone angel standing at the center of the room.

"Speak, Advisor chan"

any questions send them to me. Any revisions lemme know so i can fix any errors! Thank you for being patient with me <3
 
Grell

Feeling the strain of two figures bearing Demon King level power verbally sparring inside his mind. Grell took his frustrations out on the vulture and threw it into the sunset. A couple of people still celebrating took time to clap for Grell since the vultures were a problem around here as well. He knew all too well what Yal'Sadiq was up to. Considering he had to speak through a bird. The Dark Djinn couldn't have freed himself from his tower yet. What he recalled about the guy didn't bode well for the younger citizens of this region. Once he'd chewed through the child population of the desert cities. Yal'Sadiq would start reaching outward towards the young of the nearby zones for children to help free him from his prison. Grell couldn't exactly remember HOW the children factored into the equation. Only that a few dozen piles of corpses belonging to the most innocent kind of life had dotted the landscape around the Djinns tower. Grell wasn't even sure if he cared enough about some strangers to risk his life against Yal'Sadiq.

Mounting a camel he saw for rent. Grell spurred the beast to begin running across the Savannah and eventually the shifting sands that lay just beyond it. He already knew in his heart what needed to be done. The young warrior would simply have to defeat the Dark Djinn in order to prevent him for messing up Grell's plans to beat the Demon King AND the Void King. Yal'Sadiq would cause far too many ripples and complicate things. Reaffirming his goal to push himself towards the final clash with Demon King Mala'Kai. Grell rode his trusty new mount through an incoming sandstorm. Surprisingly the camel seemed fine with such an impulsive move and gave a kind of derpy war cry as if showing tacit approval. Allowing the beast to stop at a small oasis. Grell gulped a few dozen mouthfuls of crystal clear water before chowing down on a weird fruit growing out of a cactus. He even offered one to the weird looking guys in black robes armed with scimitars who were staring into the water intensely.
 

  • Charlie"Fast-Hands"

    Bacon is fluffy said:
    "That's where you're wrong, wench. My time is over, but Charlie? He will take your master's head one day", he said sternly, before looking back at the darkness before him. This world was not of his making completely, but rather, a glimpse into the future using the last of his divine magic. He simply pulled it from the dark corners of charlie's mind. A thump erupted from the crevice, signaling the fall was complete. "YOU SAW IT YOURSELF CHARLIE, THE IMPENDING DOOM COMING TO OUR WORLD. YOU DO NOT HAVE THE LUXURY TO WAIT 10 YEARS OR TO GROW UP. YOU WILL EXPERIENCE IT AGAIN IF YOU DONT FIGHT!

    The god of war leapt into the chasm with him, falling to the ground a meteor striking the earth. He stood up and towered over charlie casting a shadow that engulfed him. Before the fey child was the system screen he was ignoring this whole time. It did not move from his gaze and would not until he read it. On it, the timer jumped erratically, slowly plummeting toward 0. The timer a few of the others believed to be 10 years was slowly being eroded away and it was not stopping. The war god pointed his trembling spear toward a monster ripping into a dead soldier. It knew they were present, but compared to a 300 pound 10 foot tank, charlie was a twig. The monsters with their grisly teeth smiled, brandishing razor sharp sickles that rendered flesh into nothing but sinew and entrails. The sound of bone finally crunching and in fighting could be heard in the distance.

    "charlie, you must fight. The only way to hold the night at bay, is to embrace battle". The bluster was gone from his voice, but still the war god thrust himself forward and slaughtered the demons with one fell swoop. The decay in his exposed arms slowed ever so slightly. " To fight your madness, you must embrace battle as a focus. If you do not, all of this will be for naught".
    Click to expand...
    "I suppose some hostility is warranted- I will depart, there are plenty of children to torment tonight. The Void Kings arrival was a minor cataclysm- it may have ripped some children from my trances; but I think it will make a great nightmare. An endless monster that was seen watching from space is perfect- I could leave the rest of the nightmare normal- but leaving him to watch- maybe every night he get's closer before the nightmares stop- I should write this down." The Lich disappeared, though her eyes still watched the pair- interested in a dying gods final works.

    Charlie looked at the creature- beasts like that gave normal people nightmares. All he could think about was killing it before feasting on it's flesh. He had kept the monster chained for only one day- and he considered releasing it to battle? What if it never gave control back- what if it got Charlie killed? He watched the God of War fight- transfixed by the blood shed- he could feel the beast scratching at the door, reveling in the bloodshed- if that other side wasn't a feral beast, he would have sworn fealty to the God.

    Charlie felt his head swim as blood splattered around him, kneeling as he gripped his hat. He listened to every slice- the sounds of entrails dropping onto dirt, bestial cries of pain. He reached into the hat, hand finding what he sought out as always. He pulled a shortsword from the bag- well decorated and maintained. Fae Symbols and decorations covered the form- some would assume enchantment, but it was simply the work of a dedicated smith- creating a blade both beautiful and deadly- the Faesteel always sharp, light weight. Charlie gritted his teeth and held the blade in a defensive stance- the blade a dagger to most.

    He took a deep breath and charged the first creature, ducking as an axe blew over his head. He rolled under the creatures side, slashing at the creatures leg. He did not kill- not yet. A second blade was swung in his direction- the sweep impossible to dodge. He analyzed the blade- crude and rusted. The owner, a demonspawn with equally damaged armor let out a battle cry. The blade had plenty of jagged edges from battles and the lack of maintenance. Charlie was too weak to parry the blade, so he swung it towards the largest edge- splitting the blade in two. The enemy stumbled- the rogue shrapnel lodged in his throat- spraying warm blood all over Charlie.

    Charlie felt the edges of his mouth creep up- like the sun rising over a battlefield- the blood was sweet and savory, relief from the cold from the dank cave. Charlie swung the blade into a reverse grip, pouncing on the dying creature as he began stabbing the creature again and again. Charlie was bathed in blood- his cloak shifting to a bright red with his bloodlust, striking with the Crimson splatters that came from the creature.

    He got to his feet and wiped a bit of blood from his face- he enjoyed the blood, but he would keep a measure of his sanity- he would gladly soak himself in his enemies blood, but he didn't need to drink it- that had killed him in the old world anyway. He cracked his neck as he watched more demons surround him, their impish minds not thinking of fear- but of challenge.

    Charlie became a scarlet blur- only a few lines of green from his eyes- even brighter than usual joining the rush of blood-red light. He was immediately in front of the first demon- blade sheering through flesh and sinew. He quickly spun around the next attack, pulling a dagger from his belt as the creature bellowed. Charlie threw the dagger into his eye socket- making it fall as it gripped its eye, deflated by the blade. Charlie kicked the Axe into his hands as another attacked, almost tearing the head from his shoulders before he kicked the head into another's head, the remaining flesh holding it in place coating his boots as he ducked under the next attack, gripping the stolen Axe.

    Mad cackling filled the cave as each enemy was felled, some fleeing from the small creature. The Demons- though artificial, would expect one so small to be an easy opponent, this bunny thing shouldn't be able to fight things double or triple his size. Some would see this as challenge, thinking they could fight him- but instead they fell alongside the cowards that where too slow. Charlie's laughter was mixed with haunting fey songs- augmented by his Abyss song ability- striking more fear into the creatures eyes, screaming about the Bunny Monster with Green eyes.

    Name: Charlie
    age:19
    points available:
    strength:
    dexterity: 255
    mana: 105
    mana sensitivity: 50
    aura:
    aura sensitivity:
    luck: 50

    traits:
    Jittery Mind: (Due to his continued consumption of The Coffee) has various effects, such as not being able to (Or needing) as much sleep, only needing around four hours (As his abilities evolve less sleep is needed) Charlie is also more alert, constantly scanning rooms for enemies- allowing him to occasionally catch traps, illusions, or other secrets
    Fey Wild Evolution: As Charlie spent around ten years in the feywild, (having arrived at 3 or 5 years old) he has changed due to the magic of the plain, adopting traits of his Harrengon pseudo-family, with his bunny ears and tail- lending him superior hearing and senses, along with allowing a superior jumping ability/agility. His eyes are also a neon green, constantly glowing and lending him night vision- along with a few minor magic effects like unconscious plant enhancement.
    Easily Distracted: Charlie often deals with over fixation of trivial things, resulting in the collection of random objects he keeps in his Top Hat of Holding, ranging from a Hat collection, Bobble Heads, to a collection of instruments he doesn't know how to play. Along with his light hoarding, Charlie may cause harm because he is too focused on something else in combat, if his attention can be successfully drawn into a scenario that benefits the group (Via shiny objects, subterfuge, continual reminder) he can usually succeed.
    Noon: Battle Fervor (F): Charlie gains +1 strength for each foe he cuts down in battle, but in exchange his mind will be fixated on the desire to return to battle.
    Battle Perception D Rank: He now can concentrate further and see battle lines for stuff such as swords and movement of his adversaries. +2 stats per kill
    Song of the Abyss: Charlies Songs can now invoke Fear and Dread in enemies
    Titles: None

 
Last edited:
A dull, rhythmic beeping pulled him out of the void. His body felt… weird. Not in the I just got thrown into a meat grinder and barely survived way, but in the I’m not sure this is my body anymore way. Everything ached, but there was a lightness to his limbs that wasn’t there before.


The scent of clean linen and disinfectant filled his nose. A bed. A warm blanket. This wasn’t some battlefield or a hospital on the brink of collapse. This was—


Caelum’s eyes fluttered open. The dim lighting of the College’s nurse office greeted him, the ceiling an all-too-familiar sight from past incidents. He let out a slow breath, testing his fingers, then his arms. Still attached. Good. His entire body felt stiff, but at least he wasn’t in screaming pain anymore.


Then, the status screen popped up.


STATUS UPDATE
Due to your experiences, you have 100 unspent points. Allocate them now?
Click to expand...

The familiar interface hovered before him, waiting. He swallowed. He knew he’d been pushing himself to the brink. His mana, his magic sensitivity—it had carried him this far, but his body had barely kept up. He needed to fix that.


Strength: 20 → 40 (+20)
— No more getting tossed around like a ragdoll. I need to actually hold my ground.


Dexterity: 31 → 50 (+19)
— Speed. Finesse. Reacting in time to dodge, counter. I can’t just tank hits anymore.


Aura: 1 → 30 (+29)
Aura Sensitivity: 1 → 30 (+29)
— This… might be the biggest shift. I’ve been blind to this part of magic. I can’t afford to be anymore.


Luck: 6 → 9 (+3)
— Because let’s be honest, I need all the help I can get.


Confirm Changes?
Click to expand...

Caelum exhaled and tapped the screen.


Changes Confirmed.
Click to expand...

The moment the update finalized, he felt it. A rush of clarity, a shift in his body—subtle, but real. His muscles didn’t feel quite as strained, his balance sharper, his awareness of the world just a little keener. Something about the air around him felt different, as if his senses had opened to something new.


His fingers twitched as he reached up, rubbing the side of his temple.


“…That was a hell of a week, wasn’t it?” he muttered, voice hoarse.


Now… where was everyone?

Name: Caelum Veyr
Age: 19
points available: 0
Strength: 40
dexterity: 50
mana: 112
mana sensitivity: 135
aura: 30
aura sensitivity: 30
luck: 9

Traits:
Fortune Favors the Brave: You are more likely to succeed in risky situations but are more likely to be punished by fate if you back out
Artifact Hunter: You have a knack for finding the trail of obscure objects nerd!
Schema (Rank D): Any magic you learn, can be recited instantly without incantations so long as you have the mana to cast the spell. And any new spells you come across, you will not be strained to comprehend because your past knowledge will overlap the previous and light up, revealing the differences between the new and the old based on your rank.

Titles: Heir to Solomon's Throne

Satchel:
gold x4
silver x90
moonshade seeds x5
scarletthorn seeds x5
Moonshade 28 lbs

Bacon is fluffy Bacon is fluffy
 
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