Carried in the mouths of pale snakes, scrolls found purchase across dark corners of Aevos where the cursed children diaspora made their beds. 

It bore a wretched seal and stunk of gore, an animated serpent choked itself and thrashed breathlessly.

My wicked children! I weep for you all.

I hear your cries and witness my own. The High Hells sing your name like a forgotten mother. For dutifully, slaves so loyal to your cruel judges, she is ignored. 

My arms are held open and there is greatness in my embrace, no longer will the sons of Man scorn you so baselessly. You have neglected Epleiades' most bountiful gift, but I am Kain reborn and his forbidden fire flows through me. For in chaos lies your truest freedom and my pandæmonium is liberty. So come to me, where the birch forest thins and demonkind once roamed. Find the stolen flame I offer to you.

The bells of Hallowcliffe toll.

The back panels depicted a bloody scene. One that churned and shifted with each passing glance.

[!] Please RP finding and reading this missive in any place you'd like. The content within is not hidden.

She prays blindly, does not question, and is not enlightened.

A singular step separates those who are knowing and known and those who are unknown, to it and them - the Five-lord’d God.
It is a singular step forward to cast doubt on your previous learnings, to instead relearn from it.
Break free from the chains of mental captivity, free yourself from the bindings of lies.
Let the learnings of the past fade into ash and cinders. 
Admit your mind to it and them, question all, realize, awaken—all with the help of it and them.

Yet if you await the answer of it and them, be patient still.
It is their light that shines brightest when you need it most.
Though if patience wears thin, there is still hope—act.
Make your existence known to it and them so that you may be brought into the light.
Be guided by humble shepherds, walk peacefully to it and them.

But do not forget.
A singular step backward is the first step away from it and them, but this will only cause a stumble -
Yet it is a simple stumble that quickly turns into a fall.  
And when you fall, do not expect it and them - the Five-lord’d God - to help anymore.
For when you cast aside it and them, they cast aside you.

Prayer of the Patron

when expressing worship, respect, and devotion

Hail to the Ebony Lord, 

Wings of malice, wings of entropy, wings of malaise,

Bestow to me your vehemence,

So that I may serve you in glory

So that I may serve you with pride

O’ ebony Lord, 

Wings of greatness, wings of might, wings of power

Thwart the weakness that lay claim,

So that I may be unfettered in my endeavors

Prayer of Clarity

when seeking clarity, purpose, and reassurance
 

O’ winged Lord
My mind is plagued, worn, and weary,

Weighed by stillness
Weighed by apathy,

My ardor wanes as a candle melts,
My fortitude erodes as a wall crumbles,

But ever do I kneel to the ebony mantle,
Ever do I hold sacred the plagued exemplar,

So bestow to me a vision of providence in my aspirations,

A vision of a mighty cause, a blazing pyre of glory,

So that I may find clarity in our eternal climb
 

Prayer of the Rite

when seeking a successful rite, ceremony, or event

O’ Prince Kholidav,

I call upon your might and fury,
I call upon your divine wroth,
Bestow this rite a prodigal of your unholy essence,

A promise of prosperity, a sliver of good tidings,

So that we are graceful in the path laid before us, 

And this unfortunate vessel to serve dutifully and with purpose
 

Prayer of War
when entering a battle, mission, or treacherous endeavor
 

Great Lord Kholidav,
I call upon your infectious domain,

I call upon your malady,

To plague the mind and rot the soul,
To decay those who stand against your vision,

To thwart those who would not see it through

Ride the gales of battle with us 

Fly with the murder ‘til we stand over carnage

Until our vision is seen through and we have served you well
 

Prayer of Pity

when asking forgiveness for one's wrongdoings, failures, or defeat

O’ Kholidav, harbinger of Plague,
I kneel to your mantle, I beg forgiveness

If there is a thread of divine mercy in you, shed it now

Forgive my transgressions, forgive my faults,

My devotion lay in your clutch, 

Unwavering, unshakable, eternally so

You will witness no failure of me hereon,
And in your merciful clutch, I return resolute

Before prayer is performed, you may further beckon Kholidav’s intrigue with a worship rite. Often are crows perceived to be highly greedy animals, stealing jewels, charms, coins, and other valuables for their own intrigue, but this is an inaccurate understanding of why these creatures seize gold.

As proxies of Kholidav, corvids see fit to carry through his will, and in such, the glimmering reflection or sheen of metals and steel trinkets are said to resemble Xan’s holy fire. The crows steal them to be destroyed, as they would be destroyed by unholy fire. 

This rite calls for an offering of such charms. But what pleases him most is not mere jewelry, bracelets, or gems, but a mighty ruler’s crown. Place the valuables in front of a grand brazier of malflame, somewhere in solitude, somewhere uninterrupted. Once you have spoken your prayer, deposit the collection into the brazier and allow them to be engulfed. The brazier will consume any holy essence within, and once they are purged, you may wear them for yourself as an expression of devotion. 
 

A name is signed in Ilzakarn tongue at the bottom of the parchment, rousing agitation in the eyes if the reader is not versed.
Written by ra'Ruzakrii, "The Bramble," c. 163 S.A.
 

-=-= The Velvet =-=-

== In the filth it will be found  ==

Veiled by illumination are the hidden colors of the void which form the lifeblood of reality. That sinew which makes all things one whole within existence’s teguments.

By this, the glow of the dark sky, the sinews of constellations, the elements of the world, and the dysphoria of flesh are all one as the Velvet, the lightless viscera. All effects the whole, and so small observations bring forth enlightenment.

In the dichotomy of revelation, where light reveals truths without, the Velvet melts away the false-tissues to reveal the truth beneath. That of the world’s heart, of the self, and of even fate.

== The High Sinews  ==

== As above, so below  ==

In the heavens above there is a thin hide, whose taught form lets the colors of the void shine through. We see this illumination as black, for our mortal viscera is incapable of comprehending it. It is the oppressive hollow ooze which higher truths drift within.

Floating amidst the ooze of unseen light are those observed by mortal flesh, the stars which make up the countless realms of Aenguls. These godly specks are not of the Velvet, but are bound together by black sinew which forces them to float together as beds of gleaming algae within the murk.

There is then the bone between high and low, the clouds which paint the sky above and hide and reveal the lights in their own wanderings. The fickle flesh hides what misleads, and shines other portents that much brighter.

== The Low Marrows  ==

== Delve below, and see all that is within  ==

Down upon the earthen husk of Mundus exists the tangible manifestations of the Velvet. The flesh, blood, and low elements which make up most existences. In illumination it appears as a false shell, and rots to the incision of truth.

The low elements are that of fire, earth, air, and water, manifesting in environmental pustules from the world itself in a manner such as weather, disasters, and the seasons. They come in cycles and advents, as the constellations make the boils well and shrink.

The flesh of life spreads and pulses through the world, digging through its skin as it splits and changes to unseen sides. The festering is guided along my movements of the Velvet it is one with; leaves dying, beasts migrating, crops growing, cocoons unweaving.

Descendant kind finds its fate entangled in the silken web of this oneness, illness, tragedy, and other events of life both caused by and influencing the Velvet as a whole. Should a being  be brought directly to potent sinew, such venom will melt away the lies which shroud and reveal a being’s true nature.

== The Vital Auguries  ==

== Of the powers, the greatest is knowledge ==

An understanding of the sinewed webs brings with it competence and understanding of the world. While as limitless as the variety of the Velvet, there are particular things that shine through the skin.

Fleshworking: With understanding of the fates and flesh, one can heal the body and mind through the balancing of their body’s ichors, the excision of that festers, and the touch of that which poisons. This expands not just to medicine, but to an overall understanding of fleshen life and its movements.

Foresight: Through careful observation of the Velvet, most often through the viscera of flesh, self-affliction of poisons, sinew of constellations, or combinations of all three, can grant the wise the ability to predict future events with greater precision than is possible with mere logic.

Revelation: Through the venomous forms of the Velvet, truth is calcinated from the lies which engulf it. That which drives a person, that which is hidden, that which truly represents them, all is brought to the surface to bubble under the invisible glow of the Velvet.

Before the times when infernal powers were so concretely cemented into our world, there were many periods when The Lords collectively rescinded the abilities granted to these lands and the descendants within. While the sole reason for the removal of powers is unknown, it can be inferred that either it was due to some intense abuse (similar to the abuse of the void, common among the voidal magii of today) or that some scheme against The Lords was created by the mortal agents, and subsequently noted and punished by their infernal rulers. While it seems more likely that the latter of the two options is what had happened, in reality, it is estimated that some mix of the two most likely occurred.

This period (spanning from the first creation of mortal agents of Moz’Strimoza through the event titled The Summoning) will be referred to herein as The Old Times, as this period predates The Modern Times. Although The Old Times covers all pre-modern history, it may be divided by specific time frames and events. As seen below, the three major dividers of The Old Times are The Ancient Times, The Infernal Takeover (encompassing First Contact and The Inferi War), and the Pre-modern Times (encompassing The Failure and The Summoning).

Spanning from the first mortal agent until The Infernal Takeover.

The Ancient Times is a metaphorically dark period of history wherein much of the information about The Lords, the mortal agents, and their combined ambitions is lost. It has been determined that through the change of many continents, old fliers, pamphlets, books, and even simple stories of the mortal agents have been lost due to the death of descendants and nations, as well as the limited carrying capacity of those who did survive[1]. While information on this period is mostly lost, we can be sure of a few key events. 

The beginning of The Ancient Times can be traced back to when the first mortal agent was created within descendant lands. This mortal agent, in all likelihood, must have coerced others into deals with The Lords so that infernal powers could spread across nations and continents. This is the first key event.

Secondly, as mentioned above, we can be sure that some combination of abuse and scheming against The Lords occurred[2]. This event did not escape the attention of The Lords, who, in response, swiftly revoked the powers initially granted to the mortal agents.

Lastly, we can confirm that the descendant world was noted by The Lords as a viable battleground to continue their infernal conquering and fighting. It is heavily theorized that Velkuzat, in his unending greed and hunger, noted the lands to be ripe with weakness due to the inferior metals and alchemy, as well as the heavy influence of the void on many descendants[3]. Naturally, it was not long before other Lords and their generals began to seize parts of the world as their own.

[1] It is often acknowledged that while many papers could have survived, they are out of the reach of the current mortal agents. If any are found, it is advised that they are copied and taken.

[2] We can be sure that time has passed between the first agent and the betrayal of The Lords due to the immense amount of mortal agents who lost their powers.

[3] While it is possible that other Lords originally noted our realm as vulnerable, evidence points to Velkuzat first noticing the land in his unending hunger. It was only upon closer inspection by Kholidav that weakness was noted. It is very possible that other Lords even tainted the lands before contact was made, possibly contributing to this weakness.

A depiction of the comet striking the ground.

Spanning from First Contact until the Pre-Modern Times.

First Contact

First Contact refers to the beginning stages of The Infernal Takeover. During this time, the chosen generals of Moz’Strimoza made contact with Arcas via a colossal comet that struck the land and shook the continent to its core. Caught off guard and unsuspecting, the descendants hastily converged at the impact site, though many were quickly slaughtered by the powerful generals, much like a cat swatting mice with its paw.

It was during the First Contact that descendants quickly began to scramble to form alliances against these prevalent threats, though it would take some time before the chosen warriors of the descendants were trained properly. It is this grave overestimation of their own abilities that lead many descendants to die in vain. The most prevalent alliance formed is The Firewatch[4]. This alliance was formed in the year 1777, though it would take some eight years after the founding before the first descendant victory was achieved. 

At the same time that many descendants were rallying together to fight the infernal generals, many also contributed their wartime efforts to the opposite effect - assisting them. Whether it be through sacrifice, spying, disinformation, or other actions, it is believed that through the efforts of these turn-coat descendants, the true value of having mortal agents was realized by The Lords once more. The resurgence of infernal arts in mortal hands is attributed to these secretive endeavors by valiant descendants; however, these powers would not manifest for many years.

An artist's illustration of the corrupted Al'Faiz.

The Inferi War

Although the examination of every battle's circumstances and outcomes in The Inferi War exceeds the scope of this paper, it is important to acknowledge the essential timeline and highlight the major victories that occurred. 

In 1777, the descendants united to establish the Firewatch Alliance, and by the following year, in 1778, they undertook a strategic march across the Korvassan sands to confront the infernal generals in battle. It is only through the help of some strong explosion that the descendants managed to walk away without completely being slaughtered. 

Two years later in 1780, the Firewatch Alliance attempted to defend the city of Al’Faiz against the infernal general of M’ag’nus C’arne. This too was in vain as the city was quickly overrun by infernal siege engines.

Following the siege of Al’Fiaz, it was not long until the neighboring city of Vanmark was taken. As a city containing mostly merchants, it is said that little resistance was given to the new infernal rulers. It would only be in the year 1785 that the Firewatch Alliance managed to secure a victory and ‘rescue’ the city, though it was mostly in ruin by then.

It was two years later in 1787 that the descendants once more overestimated their abilities and were slaughtered in great fashion at the duel sieges of The Doghouse and the siege against General Pol’Gorous. The Doghouse occupied the once beautiful city of Vitenna, and it is there that Zekul’akudah destroyed any descendant hopes of retaking the former vacation lands. Likewise, although little is known about General Pol’Gorous, it is known that the descendants failed to achieve victory against him in the Last Light Camp - a now former stronghold of the descendants.

Finally, in the year 1791, the descendants achieved their first real victory in the Siege of Agrothond, and although they were able to hold off the generals and their forces, many lives would be ultimately lost. It was one year later that descendants ultimately claimed victory over the inferi generals and drove them from the lands of Arcas, but at that point, the continent was already doomed.

While many generals, battles, and locations existed beyond those listed above, their significance in the war was comparatively less than the others, either due to their lack of involvement in major sieges or because descendants focussed their writing on other parts of the war[5].

[4] The name of the Firewatch Alliance ended up being quite ironic, as many of the original members oftentimes watched as their cities and friends were all consumed by fire.

[5] Other distinct factions played large roles, though many of them merely defended their territory rather than expanding it. The Hive, for example, assisted others in battle but rarely attacked cities by themselves. 

Spanning from The Blessing to The Summoning

The Failure

Although it was during the time of the Inferi War that The Lords once more realized the benefits of mortal agents, it was not until many years had passed on the next continent that the powers were handed back to descendants. 

Picking the perfect descendant to facilitate the spread of infernal powers is no small task, and it is no surprise that Kiiztria chose a descendant who had little qualifications. Now known as Mozizkhar[6], this descendant quickly began to devote more of their time to their bookstore than their teachings. It is for this reason that nearly all of their students struggled and could not progress in their learning. 

The damage enacted by Mozizkhar to their mortal agent students is nearly indescribable. Many of these first agents never progressed in their teachings, and it is only because of the brave actions of their student Daz’rukrai (a follower of Kholidav) that our existence was secured. 

The Summoning

After years of waiting for lessons, Daz’rukrai finally was able to perfect the manipulation of malflame and beasts, though they were left lacking in the other fields. It was finally decided between Daz’rukrai and her following that they would summon a foreign zar’akal from Moz’Strimoza so that all of the lessons could finally be achieved.

Through the use of various blood-arts, sacrifices, and gifts, the Zar’akal was finally summoned in a ruined building outside of Providence. This zar’akal would be known infamously as Siegmund, Prince of Carrion[7]. Upon summoning, a deal was brokered so that Daz’rukrai could finalize their teachings and achieve her true potential. In exchange, Siegmund was granted freedom into the mortal world. 

An artist's interpretation of the summoning of the Siegmund.

After Daz’rukrai finished her lessons, there was little downtime and she quickly began to teach her students so that they too could become useful to The Lords. It was only after a meeting was called between all the mortal agents that Mozizkhar and her group of students (all of whom were nearly untaught) stomped off in a rage. After this meeting, Mozizkhar and many of her students were never seen again, and it is heavily speculated that The Lords removed the failure’s powers and sentenced them all to death as punishment. The bookstore Mozizkhar had so viciously fought to work in would remain in ruin and abandonment for the rest of the Almaris’s history.

This is the final event of The Ancient Times, and it marks the transition into what is known as The Modern Times where a majority of our known history exists. This will be covered in a later paper.

- Written by Ren.

[6] For their cowardice and lack of action, Mozizkhar is often called Mozizkhar the Failure as they nearly caused the removal of mortal agents once more.

[7] It is this very zar’akal that would later go on to torch the entirety of the Haenseti Capital of Almaris.

The icy gales of the mountain suffocated every breath Castiel took, coupled with the thick sludge of trepidation that seemed to weigh him down like bricks. He hauls himself through the crags of a steep ridgeline, and though he tries to step with precision, his heel keeps randomly catching on a rock. It sends him staggering every few meters, which only seemed to contribute to the all-encompassing pit in his stomach. 

When he falls, he can’t hold back last night’s offal. He sputters and hacks into the ground, breath coming and going in little more than fleeting gasps. Here, at least, he won’t suffer the shame of being seen in such a pathetic condition. Though his mind unrelentingly raced, the whistling wind reminds him how truly alone he is up here. The ridgeline is a desolate place, and so he allows himself the moment of composure he desperately needed. 

Shakily, Castiel lifts his head, realizing he’s reached the crest of the mountain on a long plane of scratchy grass. Any semblance of the forest below is shrouded by a veil of thick fog, the canopy just barely seen poking through the blanket. He begins to slowly walk.

The acolyte's words rattled in his head like a church bell, and he stifled the instinct to mull them and the pain that they brought. But some part of him knew better than to so readily believe this was a problem worth fleeing from, that it was a problem that could be snuffed beneath the heel of pleas and mercy. 

“When you said you wished to run away, young Prince,” a venomous voice coos. “Is this what you had meant?” 

The question inspires the memory of an ebony-haired witch in a drooping cowl, who stared with a devastating mix of betrayal and disbelief that made Castiel wish he had never spoken. Since then, he had tried to convince himself that the idea was a mere delusion. That it was never truly viable. But the possibility lingered like the aftertaste of a foul meal. Now, it was even more tempting than ever.

“Not like this.” he replies. “Not in a way that’s humiliating to confess to.” 

"Is it any less humiliating otherwise?"

"No."

“Then it’s a macabre ending to what were highs of your prowess. That you now walk the crest of utter despondence, with little promise of rebound.” 

“We have friends and allies.” he protests, as though clawing for what little hope he could strangle from the situation. “We can find help.”

“And why, Castiel, would they so quickly flock to the aid of a runaway Prince? You know better than that. And I know that when the world is dead and dark, they would have you buried beneath the rubble of it all if it meant one less craven bastard for them to cater to.” 

The serpent always had a way of lacing his words with riddle and prose, but he says it’s because Castiel has a habit of taking things at face value. That he needed to learn to look past the words themselves and instead focus on the merit of them and who they came from. It’s this notion that leads Castiel to a terrible, wretched idea that sends a shiver down his spine, that this serpent very well may seek to coax him right into the arms of inhumanity. This one time, he decides not to jump to conclusions, but he wished he had when the words were spoken.

“What are you saying?”

“That there is a sacrifice to be made, Castiel. A macabre, inhumane metamorphosis calls to you...” 

A pang of dread clamped his throat like barbed wire. 

“... And if you see fit to deny the end of all things infernal, then what is it that truly hunts you other than fate itself?”

To most people, the word “King” means a life of luxury and wealth. It means succession and adoration, something a child fantasizes for himself in play-pretend. To Castiel, this word means something much different. Kinghood is not a mere ascribed status or titleship, but instead inspires a deep, core-churning fear in him. It’s the embodiment of all things immoral, cruel, and selfish, and it’s these very concepts that beget things of nightmares. The reality was, he had a choice between the jaws of something corrupt and the zeal of something bloodthirsty, and he didn’t want to have to pick between either of them. 

As foreboding his options are, Castiel reminds himself the consequence of choosing neither at all and what would happen to everything and everyone he had. He loathed the idea of being cornered like a rabbit, and if truly mustering the gut to do something about it was not viable, then his refusal to have his legacy die in cowardice would be.

“Perhaps, young Prince, this is your opportunity to squander that wretched abomination Siegmund. Seize his vie for glory. He is undeserving of it. And once the hounds on your tail have lost the scent, sic them on him.”

Castiel knew the serpent knew how to pick his mind, but it didn't make the idea any less desirable. Like something fulfilling, something powerful sat on the tip of his tongue for years, but he could never speak it aloud. To confess that, deep down, Kinghood is a status to hunger for would relinquish any semblance of trust his peers had for him — a trust they did not have for Siegmund. That's what made them different . When everything logical and sensible would put Siegmund at the top of the hierarchy, Castiel's reluctance to acquire his status kept him ahead of the game. 

Perhaps he could have convinced himself of this before, but this is a different timeline. Now is not the time to consider the perception of his peers or Siegmund's standing. Now is a time to consider what is tangible and real, and right now, what is tangible and real will not show mercy in the face of deliberation. The thought sent a shudder down his spine. 

"Pick your poison, Castiel."

Chulir - Mother Mountain

Gazing upon the alchemical sign of Earth reminds one of land, be it plains, mountains, soil, etc…

To my friends, both known and unknown.

When you are lost within these new lands and are without a compass, do you not turn inwards like an animal finding its home? When your horse grows weary, does it not stray off the path and does it not end up at the base of the titanic mountain? Do your eyes not travel from the base to the shrouded peak? This is Chulir - The Mother Mountain.

It is the blessing of Chruinne which drives us forth, transforming the land at our feet so that we may always end up at its base and so we may never be truly lost in this world. It is from this gift of Chruinne that we have this natural pillar within our blessed lands which guides us forth in life. Do not take this for granted though, as it is our lack of faith which prevents us from ascending to the top and viewing the world in its entirety. It is our lack of faith which creates this natural barricade in our way. 

I pray that one day we may achieve a true blessing so that our feet which are so drawn towards Chulir may step upon her blessed peak.

Please do not be afraid to send a letter if you have any questions or would like to speak, for it is my goal to educate peoples on these lands.

Tallow, 

Of Hallowcliffe Hall.