The Red Prince

Ixris being crowned amongst a Nether riot.

Origin

I: The Darkening of the Deep

In the eve of the fifteenth century, with his second campaign against descendant kind underway upon the continent of Athera, the Betrayer was forced for a time to direct his efforts below. 
 

Since the desolation of Aegis and Iblees’ subsequent imprisonment in the dwarven Seal, factionalism had begun to fester. The infection of dissidence had spread amongst the Undead, as heroes of the first land, spearheaded by the likes of Rott and Freyj, the oldest of the Undead had been granted some modicum of autonomy during the Archdaemon’s sealing, and with their free will came the power to question. For the better part of his time since his liberation, the Aegisian troops had noted a change in their master’s priorities: a peculiar relic they had recovered from the singed bones of a dwarf slain in Drauchreim had captivated the Betrayer’s attention, and several of the Undead claimed to have bore witness to their master whispering to the axe, speaking of grand schemes of creation and renewal. Acts which, as the lord of Ruin, the stronger willed of the Undead saw to be madness. 
 

These whispers of lost faith were loudest amongst those emboldened by the Abyss. In the years since Iblees’ imprisonment, the dormant forces of the Nether had taken note of cracks in their home; a steady stream of lifeforce had poured in from some unseen gap between their prison and the lands above that they had once known as Aegis. At first a secret kept by only the most radical and freewilled of the undying army, this stream had become rivers that soon spilled out as great banks that would consume the Nether in its entirety, shrouding the underworld in a black fog. Carried by this current were innumerable shambling, purposeless undead not of the Betrayer’s ranks: the flesh and bones of those left on Aegis, doomed to perpetually rise again from death as a consequence of the Abyss’ relentless abundance of lifeforce. These necrotic hordes intermingled with Iblees’ ranks, spreading their resentment and discontent among them, whilst those of Iblees’ own make that breathed these invigorating fumes found in themselves a growing autonomy, and the will to distance themselves from the Betrayer’s control, until soon enough vast swathes of the armies of Aegis had come to not only question Iblees’ rule, but to also work against it. 
 

With his attention upon his mysterious trinket and the ill planned campaign against the diaspora upon Athera, Iblees remained ignorant of these budding voices of revolt until it was too late. Whilst tending to affairs above, the Archdaemon had been made aware of these curiosities below without much care for their explanation nor concern for the perceived threat of a few shambling undead, which he had sent a small and ill equipped division of his legions to handle whilst the bulk of his forces remained in Athera. It was not until the climax of the civil war that he was forced to take the threat of revolution seriously: when the treacherous undead breached his Nexus, pulling a handful of souls from it to begin stripping away at his power.
 

A thorn in his side that would stand in the way of his grand schemes, the Archdaemon knew he had not the time to crush these dissenters himself, nor could he risk allowing his Nexus to remain compromised should the Nether not be swiftly reclaimed. As such, the Betrayer was forced to put his campaign on hold: embarking from the material plane in search of a substitute. 
 

II: The Birth of the Inferi

Still recovering from his clash with Aeriel, the Betrayer would not risk seeking the aid of a deity for this task, whilst his mortal assets remained occupied with the wars on the surface. It was for such reasons his attention instead fell upon his allies from the conflicts of yore: the shunned Spirits Ixli and Ikuras, the latter of which had once worked alongside the Betrayer during the Thirty Year War. 
 

Whilst the risks of venturing to their domain were apparent - as the anomalous domains of the spirits were alien to the majority of deities, and the potential harm of bridging such to the divine planes not fully understood - the Daemon of Ruin had by this point grown too reckless to care for them. Lost in his arrogant assumption of fealty from the spirits he meant to meet with, along with the power of such divines that paled in comparison to his own, Iblees would form a bridge from his realm to the Spirit Wastes - a corner of the labyrinth the spirits had shaped from Apohet’s former plane for the anathema spirits, and the souls of the damned judged unfit to enter Stargúsh’Stroh by Kor - in preparation to bring his intended prize captive into his own sphere of influence: the Ancestral Spirit of Krug, which had eluded the Betrayer’s vengeance for centuries. 

These wastes, desolate and cold, were perforated only by swarms of damned souls. Chiefly of orcish and dark elven descent, those doomed to wander the Wastes had earned the ire of the Spirits. ‘Clean’ by Aeriel’s standards and spared from the Ebrieatas, the sins of these fallen were only of relevance to Apohet’s brood: the dishonourable, forsakers of the Spirits and traitors of their kind, chief among them the Dark Shamans of yore; a mixture of cowering practitioners stripped of their will over the Spirits in death, lorded over by titanic Ish’urkal - the hybrid remnants of mortals that had consumed the essence of Spirits, twisting their souls into shapes monstrous and tormented. These lowly crowds clung to the outskirts of Ixli’s domain; the fortunate among them were given purpose as his slaves, to tend the endless shelves of the Spirit of Forbidden Knowledge’s library. The less lucky were left to Ikuras, the Spirit of Fear and Insanity, who relished in tormenting these accursed few for his own entertainment, bottling their essence as jinxes meant to plague the living. 
 

Such twisted beasts were the first ‘inferi’: maddened, voracious souls that before long would forget their descendant sensibilities, retaining only the capacity to think and speak a guttural form of the Old Blah, as well as the curse of bloodlust that they had once suffered in life - which now consumed their every action. An uncoordinated mob that, following the example of the spirit-eating Ish’Urkal - had begun to practice cannibalism when fighting against each other, with great titans mounting the food chain and styling themselves as warlords of the Spirit Wastes. 
 

A relative unknown to mortalkind, spoken of only as ‘demons’ to the unlucky Shamans that had encountered them, and the few living Ish’Urkal daring enough to conjure these beasts to the mortal plane using the Bastard of Smoke, the inferi were a new discovery to Iblees, and soon captivated his interest as a potential force for his purge in the Nether; whilst the hunt for Krug may have been to the Betrayer’s satisfaction, even he was able to see the impracticality of such a pursuit, given the immediacy of his needs and the availability of this new potential fighting force. 
 

III: The Key to an Army

Iblees spent some cursory weeks  attempting to bargain with the Inferi, before relenting. As the master of Ruin, he had expected the Inferi to rally behind him on instinct; their nature was, after all, an indirect consequence of his own curse for the descendants of Krug, though found them impossible to reason with. As hybrids of mortals and devoured Spirits, these monsters’ frayed souls existed apart from the Creator’s vision with which Iblees was familiar, strangely resistant to his taint or that of any other deity. A reality he would centuries later come to understand as one of the many anomalies spawned from this cycle’s Mathic collapse; yet another ripple in Creation unwittingly caused by the Outvoker’s meddling. As such, he could not tame them, whilst the only collateral they cared for was what they dubbed ‘maleus’: the essence of souls stripped down to its most raw and potent form. A currency the Betrayer would dare not part with, for his own risk of losing such in his Nexus was the very reason for this venture.
 

Instead, he sought the aid of those that understood the inferi best: Ikuras and Ixli, who had acted as keepers of the demons in the wastes. The former, the Spirit of Fear and Insanity, had actively worked to influence the Inferi against one another, gleeful at the possibilities this new ‘Infernal Climb’ might yield, and coming to understand the chaotic hierarchy they had evolved for themselves, whilst the latter, Spirit of Forbidden Knowledge, had learnt to exert a small level of control these creatures in a pact quite akin to that formed between Shaman and Spirit. 
 

Unbeknownst to Iblees, this power lay in a tome of Ixli’s own make: the Book of Names. Initially collection of the true names of countless Immortal, Elemental and Ancestral Spirits curated since the days of Apohet’s sealing and at one point a conduit drawn upon by the Dark Shamans following the anathema Spirit, Ixli through the centuries had also began recording the souls of men upon its ensnaring pages, as a means of binding his servants to him; marking them as unfit for Kor’s judgement and condemning them to be warped into inferi for his bidding. With this volume he was over time able to give name to the inferi themselves, and as such exert some rudimentary will over those close to him.
 

Ikuras, on the other hand, had witnessed first hand to the formation of the demonic ranks, and in part influenced their evolution; the Spirit found that inferi had devolved past the capacity to fear or truthfully care much of mortal or divine entities, regardless of their comparative strength. The order created amongst themselves was instead an inborn fear of one another that underpinned the entirety of their ‘society’. Their twisted nature permitted the demons to reform from the gravest of injuries in the Spirit Wastes, though through consumption they could be eliminated fully. A reality to which all inferi were painfully aware. Understanding maleus as a currency meant that each demon risked expendability and subsequent consumption, and as such would rove in packs of fiendish lessers or align themselves with the largest and strongest of these demons to cower in their shadow as cronies. 
 

In thanks to their past alliances, and gifts of power offered to Ikuras, he was quick to offer this information willingly to the Betrayer, making him fully aware of the reality he could never bind the inferi to himself; only another, greater inferi. Ixli, on the other hand, was far less willing to share his secrets with the Daemon. The Spirit of Forbidden Knowledge had come to note a change in the wastes since Iblees’ bridge to his own realm was formed, and an emboldening in the inferi; as swathes of power had begun to seep into the climb from the Betrayer’s presence. The demons had begun to grow reckless and hungrier than ever, whilst stronger still. Fearful of what could come of his home in the wastes and the wider Spirit Realms if Iblees were to continue his indirect empowerment or learn of the Book of Names to turn the inferi on the wider plane, Ixli refused the Archdaemon the secrets to his lesser control of the inferi, and in turn sealed his own fate. 

IV: The Calamity

Within a year of the Betrayer’s arrival, the inferi had grown restless. Already bestial at best, the new breeds which had drank from the well atop the bridge to Iblees’ realm soon earned even Ikuras’ concern: once hungry for maleus and eager to devour one another as part of their self-made cycle, this short span of time exposed to powers of Ruin had turned them ravenous; the Dark Shamans once loyal to Ixli had begun to challenge their master’s will, whilst greater infernals that were once Ish’Urkal had even made attempts at consuming the Spirits themselves. These beasts had lost all interest in the pursuit of forbidden knowledge, whilst Ikuras’ mind games and nightmarish tricks left this rapidly evolved generation of demons largely unphased. Worse still, there had been talk amongst the lesser spirits of inferi wandering to the edges of the wastes, drawn by the souls of Star’gush Stroh in search of a greater abundance of malleus before being thrown from its gates by Kor himself. It was clear to Ixli who convinced Ikuras in turn that something had to be done.
 

The pair - divine in their own right, and among the strongest of all Spirits - were not foolish enough to challenge the Archdaemon directly. Suspecting a fate worse than death should Iblees obtain command over the infernal climb and integrate not only themselves, but all spirits into it, the decision was made to cut out the infection before it spread. Unearthed from the bowels of Ixli’s near museums and libraries of trinkets, spellbooks and relics, the pair lay bait for the rampant inferi; coaxing them toward the bridge between the Wastes and Iblees’ realm. Then, with the intent of cutting away the link between planes, the pair unleashed their combined power in an attempt to tear apart a portion of the Spirit Wastes and banish the inferi to the Void. Outraged, Iblees intercepted the pair, though he was too late. The Spirits had underestimated the extent of the power the inferi had sapped from the realm of Ruin and, coupled with Iblees’ hasty lashing out, triggered a grand calamity that split through the Wastes in their entirety. 
 

The well before the Betrayer’s bridge imploded in on itself, and through it exploded countless shards of the desolated plane before breaching the Soul Stream itself, in a grand roar that rippled through the Veil. All of divinity bore witness to this catastrophic storm between the realm of Spirits and the home of the Archdaemon; an event that cemented the risks of tampering with Apohet’s overrun realm in the minds of all Aenguls and Daemons to date, closing the walls between the shamanic and holy pantheons permanently. 
 

In the aftermath, Ixli and Ikuras  awoke in a hellscape. A realm frayed and tattered, open to the cosmos and lit ablaze by the soul-flame of inferi: Moz Strimoza. Exhausted by the acts, and forever sealed from their home among countless demons, it was not long before Iblees tracked the pair cowering in his own shattered plane. Enraged by their defiance though yet to lose sight of his goals, Iblees captured the pair, many remnant Ish’Urkal and - unbeknownst to him - the Book of Names. Through tortuous ritual the Spirit of Forbidden Knowledge and the Spirit of Fear and Insanity were stitched together in an aberrant amalgam alongside the demonic spirit-shamans and even the book itself; reforged into a singular entity. Demonic in nature though godlike in potency and capable of commanding the Inferi as if one of their own. The resulting deity would be called Ixris, in allusion to its former selves, whilst the inferi themselves had come to recognise the creature as the penultimate being. 
 

He who would always sit atop the infernal climb; He whose shadow all demons were destined to lurk in; He who liberated the first from their prison among the Spirits; He who would guide them across the stars in satiation of their eternal hunger; 
 

V: The Red Prince

The Archdaemon was quick to put his new resource to the test. With his own realm shattered and ablaze and perforated by a now steady stream of souls that remained untouchable and useless to him, as Moz Strimoza’s condition would warp any mistakenly sent by Kor before Iblees’ taint could take hold, Iblees was hellbent on putting his new assets to use for all they had cost him. 
 

The newborn Red Prince was a creature of unfiltered wrath. His mind still fractured between the two forsaken spirits at its helm cared only for destruction; to project the Ruin he had suffered unto all put before him. And so, the Betrayer cast him down into the Nether with a ring of inferi to meet the overwhelming numbers of the ongoing civil war, his own attention finally returning to the conquest of Athera and his schemes for the Axe of Krug. 

Ixris sank through the loyalist legions of the Undead, indiscriminate between ‘friend’ and foe in the war he had been condemned to. The darkening of the Nether had no effect on him nor his demonic cohort who had by their strange nature no capacity for lifeforce, and an immunity to the Ibleesian taint, though the legions of Iblees and the rebelling undead of the Aegisian Abyss still bore maleus; fuel. The infernal tide swept with ease over the necrotic hordes, shattering the cycles of resurrection they had depended upon to replenish their ranks by desolating the fodder with malflame, and twisting the worthy into further inferi to bolster Ixris’ forces. 
 

The absorption of these damned souls into the inferi sowed the seeds for the evolution of their language. Whilst the Old Blah was most common among the demons in thanks to their spiritual origins, the language lacked its own written script and the complexities to hold power outside of shamanic rites. As such, the Red Prince actively encouraged its fusion with the Al'tahrn-Durngo of the undead; appropriating the Black Speech of Ebrietaes for his own nefarious uses. It is from such a lexical union that Ilzakarn, the Infernal Tongue, was woven. 
 

Soon after Drauchreim was recaptured Iblees returned to the Nether without the Axe of Krug. The object of his obsession had been shattered with his campaign’s conclusion and supplanted with the awakened Malchediael, the Aengul of Courage. Having witnessing the ongoing decimation of the rebellion firsthand, and Ixris’ apparent success in the conversion of treacherous undead to his own infernal swarm, the Archdaemon came to acknowledge the title afforded to Ixris among his ranks: ‘Za’Rokultherak’ - the Red Prince. This to Iblees was meant less as an appraisal and more to solidify the dubious loyalties of his own creation, whose rapid growth acceleration had in reality meant the lieutenant was now afforded a larger directly loyal force than the Betrayer’s own remaining Undead. Further, the styling of ‘Prince’ was an implicit confirmation to both Iblees and Ixris that he would never truly rule the Nether after his conquest, nor Moz Strimoza once returned there; that only Iblees himself could be ‘King’. A dynamic Ixris resented. 
 

Fearful that further Undead might be caught in the crossfire of the Red Prince’s campaign, as well as distrustful of the inferi coming close to his assets - his nexus and Malchediael - Iblees withdrew his remaining soldiers to Drauchreim, establishing an impenetrable garrison about its perimeter whilst the war continued to rage through the Nether. Ixris was quick to question this, expressing a growing concern for the Aengul and Archdaemon’s schemes behind closed doors whilst silently fearful Malchediael was meant to serve as a more permanent replacement. A challenge to Iblees’ strategy which was met with appropriate harshness; a legacy of violence which would come to underpin countless exchanges between Ixris and his creator going forth. 

As the civil war progressed to its conclusion and the rebel undead were scattered, the darkening of the Nether persisted regardless of Ixris’ successes. The army he had amassed through the forced conversion of these necrotic troops into his demonic horde grew restless in the damned space, though Iblees’ work with the Aengul was not concluded. As such, the Betrayer commanded the Red Prince to return to Moz Strimoza with his inferi with instruction to mend and secure the frayed perimeter of his realm. During the conquest of the deep Ixris had noticed the Book of Names - now bound to his form, its power a part of his demonic makeup - to have expanded of its own accord. Refashioned in the new tongue of Ilzakarn using the Al'tahrn-Durngo script, entire volumes of names had manifested themselves on its pages as new souls were twisted into the Infernal Climb, names beyond those of the undead he and his horde had turned themselves; upon his return to the shattered realm, the numbers of inferi he had left there had quadrupled. 
 

This steady flow of souls warped into the demonic hordes in Moz Strimoza would soon reproduce past the realm’s capacity if left unchecked and so unsipervised by the Betrayer, Ixris set about investigating the intricacies of his new race: penning the first rites of demonology into his Book of Names as its penultimate grimoire using the blood of his demons - the coagulated maleus known as ‘rakir’ - concocted innumerable new applications for his malflame, along with the means to shackle, summon, and convert demons and mortals alike. With the conclusion of his foundational studies, the Red Prince tasked his countless serfs with solving both the problem of their overcrowded hells and - in his own way - tackling Iblees’ task of securing the frayed realm’s perimeter. 

A burning crusade was launched across the heavens. The inferi, ever hungering and growing in number, were tasked with the conquest of a thousand worlds; to bind and stitch each conquered star to Moz Strimoza, permitting a steady expansion of the patchwork domain, and in turn the crumbling of Iblees’ dominion over all but the plane’s centre. 
 

With the gradual collapse of the Mathic Cycle this demonic plague upon the veil has been appropriated by fate; the development of cosmic correction drawing the hunger of the inferi to the misplaced works of planeswalkers, Voidal horrors and divine entities alike, their place cemented as both pest and population control across the heavens. Such quirks surrounding their nature - and that of Ixris - are in many ways beyond the vision of Creation, offering them a unique level of negotiation with the usual self-ordering of the universe; their crusade permitted to continue so long as its limits are not pushed too far past the point of the collective pantheon’s ire, such as extensive threats to the material plane in a similar fashion to Iblees’ past invasions provoking Aeriel and others into action.  

Personality

Born of the unnatural fusion of two Greater Spirits, Ixris’ mental state is irreparably damaged by the corrupting influence of Ixli and Ikuras’ colliding psyches that is stabilized only by the deity’s immense magical strength and fortitude and its insatiable desire to increase it further and further. A hurricane of ambition, driven to bolster his own power through the curation of forbidden knowledge, and the spread of fear and insanity through his infernal machinations, his behaviour seldom represents the interests of Iblees, or any other but the inferi at large. Forged from these Greater Immortals - divine beings in their own rights - that were dethroned from their mantles in the Spirit Wastes, and forcibly merged by the Betrayer’s hand, Ixris has no affection for Iblees. Rather, what portions of Ixris’ memories remain of Ixli and Ikuras serve as a constant reminder that with or without Iblees they were - and still are - a being beyond mortality; owing no debt to Iblees for their powers that existed prior, and have exponentially been expanded through the machinations of the Infernal Climb during innumerable campaigns across the Nether and the wider mortal planes of the Veil. 
 

Such disloyalties are not expressed openly, however: whilst the Red Prince may wield power surpassing that of Iblees’ other patrons, rivalling even that of some lesser Aenguls and Daemons, he is well aware it pales in comparison to but a fraction of the Archdaemon’s. This has been made apparent to Ixris through countless shows of force, where Iblees has time and again punished the Red Prince for his perfidy. It is only for the Red Prince’s usefulness to Iblees thus far, along with his dependency on Ixris to keep the Inferi under the bare minimum level of control (not wishing to suffer even greater losses than were risked in the Undead civil war in the Nether, with the demons upon Moz Strimoza) that Iblees consistently refrains from outright executing Ixris. A fact both parties are painfully aware of.
 

A heartless being, bound not even by his maker’s skewed morals, Ixris has little regard for the wellbeing of the Veil. A rogue manifestation of Ambition, torn from the unintended pantheon of Apohet’s realm and reshaped into a force of Ruin by Iblees, Ixris’ regard for the Descendants, the Spirits and the greater Divines is skewed by pragmatism, pity and - in the case of the latter - envy. His respect for the persistence and wellbeing of Creation begins and ends with the Infernal Climb, and his desire to enroll every mortal and immortal soul into the machinations of the inferi. A true force of chaotic evil in the cosmos, his value for life is measured entirely by the extent to which it may be broken down into malleus and made fuel for the Red Prince’s own terrible purposes. 

Goals

[Backfacing section removed.]

Abilities

[Backfacing section removed.]

Current Location

At present the Red Prince’s location is fluid. Whilst utilising Moz Strimoza as a ‘hub’ it’s management is largely left to the warring Zar’rokul and his time there is oft under a veil of secrecy so as to keep contact with Iblees at a minimum, lest he be interrogated about what his time has been occupied with. He frequents Val’garis to issue orders to his sieging zentherak lieutenants as well as answers the subtle summons of Cosmic Correction himself in the scattered lesser planes.

This nomadic existence however has been interrupted by a recent interest in the penultimate Mortal Plane, where the Red Prince speculates new sources of malleus might await him. However, being well aware of the divine eyes set on the realm, Ixris minds his movements since centuries ago he spilled the secrets of Naztherak among the first mortal witches and warlocks, fearful of what deific retribution might await him there. Instead, he keenly watches the world, awaiting the ritualistic beck and call of any descendants worthy of bargaining with; an assurance of service prepared for his arrival in an inhospitable land. 

Purpose

The Red Prince’s purpose is to create an essential ST asset going forth as a ‘primary’ antagonist for medium (and in special circumstance large) scale events going forth. Essentially serving to fill a similar niche expected of Iblees in the days of Aegis and Athera, albeit not always with map ending consequence, Ixris is to be styled as the next front facing ‘big bad’ of LoTC. 
 

A figure players will be able to both directly and indirectly interact with on a much more frequent basis than any Aengul or Daemon, in similar regularity to the current usage of Azdromoth and Aruzond. The key difference being whilst the latter examples are styled as morally grey if not outright ‘good’ in their day to day player perceptions, the Red Prince is to be broadly understood as a force for outright chaotic evil in the universe. Whilst he seeks to ultimately betray Iblees, he is not and never will be an ‘anti-hero’, and this angle could at best be exploited in tricking players to work for the greater of two evils in terms of the pair’s comparative goals.  
 

Following on from the precedents set by the Inferi invasion, and the occult tropes established in Zarsies’ original Gifts of the Red Prince lore with the Zar’rokul, events involving the Red Prince should always offer the opportunity for player-versus-player antagonism, favouring the manipulation of player characters and the steering of their actions over cutscene roleplay or an overreliance on staff played ‘soldiers’ and long winded CRP. 

In this regard, Ixris is also to serve as an important narrative device for the ST’s toolbelt. In cases of the aforementioned, and where management deems such necessary, the Red Prince can serve as a vehicle for the injection of thematically appropriate magics and CAs under the respective Shamanism and Naztherak umbrellas as and when staff intervention is necessitated in response to gross inactivity. 

Bibliography
Moz Strimoza and the Inferi
Cosmic Correction
Naztherak
Gifts of the Red Prince
Inferis, the Demons among Men
Ish’Urkal

A Mordu and Zarsies © production.
 

The Nine Archons, commanding a legion of dreadknights under Setherien’s banner prior to their conversion.

The Undying Sahir
The story of the first silit begins with the twilight years of the first strigae court.  Hazm Alhazred, a delegate in the Alnorid Sultanate, was a powerful wizard and scryer famed amongst his contemporaries as court mage to the Emirs and even the Sultan himself.  His fame attracted a striga agent to turn him to consolidate power in the region amongst the ruling human nation. As the years passed and more were turned, it became increasingly apparent to the Unseen that with each passing generation of striga their influence waned more and more. More elders were deployed and more still turned their backs in pursuit of their own ambitions. Hazm was no exception.  

The Unseen cult reached its peak in the sands of Alnorid some time around the fourteenth century though to Hazm it had felt like many more. The taste of blood had run sour. His great talents in the cosmic arcane had been lost in his exchange for eternity, his influence amongst the Farfolk nobility squandered and his position reduced to that of an outcast, a monster forced to roam the deserts of eastern Abu’Khourn in wait of another wisened generation’s passing.  

His experiments, which he once had tackled with such ambition and cruelty, had now all either been concluded or simply bored him. The immortal’s servants had all outgrown him once he’d figured out how to grant them his own blessings and now sought only to impress the Unseen. It’d been at least three cycles of awakening since Hazm himself had last cared to meet with the next Unseen arising from their fifty-year slumber, a task he’d since deferred to other distant elders who undertook such with religious vigour. After many years of absence to the moots of strigae, he had hoped himself dead and forgotten in the eyes of his estranged brethren. 

He had sought immortality and fulfillment and found only the former. What good, he’d oft ponder in his great dusty halls and libraries, is an eternal life of yearning? It was then that Hazm eventually decided to search for a way of furthering his condition, hoping to restore the great magical prowess he’d once known.

It was a long line of black sacraments and secluded studies that then led him to try and understand the Unseen’s power and its relation to mortals, with hopes to subvert it and remake himself anew: a wizard of flesh who had cheated death. Such things led him far from Aeldin into the company of the dragon Setherien and his band of sorcerers after his mortal lineage had passed onto Anthos and one such descendant sought him out. As prestigious as he had once been perhaps it was they who could unlock the secrets of volatile energy found in the blood of man.

The Stone Serpent
In the years following his arrival, Hazm had become a figure of interest to the drake Malghourn. Setherien’s former general had rounded up Hazm and his nine followers after their and the harbingers’ defeat. Each of the cabal was an archon of ancient blood magic who the enlightened drake sought to experiment upon. 

Desperate to prevent his own grizzly fate as corrupt stone and fearful of following in his old master’s footsteps and falling mad, Malghourn had become fascinated with the what exactly the Unseen had done to create Hazm, both for the potential it had to spare himself and to bolster his own ranks. After the drakaar’s death upon the Golden Lance Hazm had been seduced by Malghourn’s promises of restoring his magic, and the blood mage cabal had too been seduced by Malghourn’s promise to gift them each with immortality, unending power and riches, and a realm of their own for privacy, seclusion, and dominion.

In the year 1461 Malghourn made good on his promises to the nine archons though Hazm’s fate had been far more grizzly. The Red Nexus, some had dubbed it, was an ancient lexicon of blood magic. It’d come into his possession following Setherien’s death, though even Malghourn wasn’t sure if it was his or made by an even earlier dragaar. With its extensive insights on blood magic and with the bohra his late master had captured for conversion Malghourn conceived a grand ritual where the boarfolk would serve as a font of power. The final remnants of their flawed race were exsanguinated to fuel the great feat, their blood poured into a field where the Red Nexus and great many runes laid. Hazm, without his magic, could only sit atop the great crimson stone and watch the drake and his occult company practice their ancient craft. It was when the last sacrifice’s blood had been let that he felt it. 

Searing pain filled the ancient elf, his body being torn apart first. Immortal, he was less concerned given his previous deaths and reformations until he noticed the sensation hadn’t stopped. The striga’s incorporeal spirit screamed and cried as it was split into ten upon the Red Nexus. The lexicon beneath him fractured and broke into ten, one still considerably large gem with nine shards floating off of it. Each swallowed the pieces of his soul whilst flurries of scarlet mist travelled between his followers and a shard of their own alongside Malghourn and the largest remaining piece. The last thought to pass through Hazm Alhazred’s mind was those of betrayal, as he had been made into nought more than a blueprint. 

The Nine Archons
By the time they awoke from the ritual the nine archons felt changed. Each came to notice the silence within them, their genus-awakened minds finding no pulse, and thereafter became aware of an ease in movement, weightlessly hovering in place where they had each once stood. They could see clearly despite the dark blizzard shielding away the sun and soon noticed that the pieces of the nexus they had broken off for themselves were gone, bar the largest which Malghourn loomed over. His draconic body, once withered and in parts calcified, had been reborn anew. They could see walls of muscle quaking beneath his scales, now a heavy crimson, and the dragon’s fangs had grown significantly. Something about the serpent to the nine seemed menacing. The smell of fear hung in the air that they shared with him until finally they were addressed.

“Traitors.” Malghourn spoke, rumbling a blizzard of rock-salt out of the surrounding cliffs around them with his sheer volume. “Your dear friend… torn apart by his own company’s avarice.” The archons exchanged glances, guiltily. They were struck with the realisation that they had been approached and bargained with individually by Malghourn. Each had been given the same promise in secret and each had taken it; all of them had been as willing to betray their master and, with the exception of Numir and Carical, each other more than likely. It became increasingly evident that this was intentional. 

“You are immortal as promised. You still have your powers as promised. What I demand is your recognition. Your souls are bound to the blood shards which I have carefully scattered. Fear not, my children, for your bonds to the shards are as ethereal as the libraries they contain; if destroyed they shall reform inevitably by my hand if not by my unwitting apprentices. Know this: I can undo what we have done. The lovers shall be sovereign and for me build a world of troops and cattle. This trio,” he indicated with pointed claws, “shall bear tasks of their own to empower my forces, and the strays - the weakest among you - you must earn my favour.”

Details

And thus began the nine bloodlines of the first siliti. True to his oath, Malghourn ensured each archon was gifted a realm coupled with its own duties:
        
[Sovereign] Numir, the King
Once human, Numir was a lowborn stablemaster from one of the scattered proto-Raevir peasant branches that would unify years later under the Kingdom of Aesterwald. Of suspiciously fair hair and skin, the young Numir was mistakenly believed to have been of high elven descent by marauding dreadknights and taken before the old order of blood with hopes of being utilised for his potent genus, in light of Haelun’orian scarcity during its isolationist period. 

Whilst such lineage was not found, the enslaved Raevir did show promise in deciphering the runic script and esoteric spells of the order, being taken in and recognised as a blood mage prodigy amongst Setherien’s ranks prior to falling into the  Stone Serpent’s inner circle. 

It was under Malghourn’s stewardship that Numir was introduced to the farfolk magistress Carical, with whom he soon became infatuated. When tasked with finding the elusive strigae to bring before his draconic lord for means of study, Numir followed Carical’s lead to western Aeldin.

By way of blood rifts their journey led them to the Undying Sahir, Hazm, with which Numir soon developed a deep respect and fraternity as a pseudo parental figure, spending some years in good company together once they returned to Anthos.

One of the more comprehensive to Malghourn’s suggested betrayal, Numir eventually caved to the idea of sacrificing Hazm in exchange for the chance to rule his own realm as king, an opportunity no magic nor dragon could have offered in his homeland. Such plagues Numir to this day as one of his greatest regrets, to the extent that his and Carical’s shared dominion was named in the sahir’s memory.

Numir now maintains the courts of the Kingdom of Hazmstadt as its king, his own realm being interwoven with his spouse’s: one a farm-world of human livestock, the other a world-spanning kingdom of siliti subjects and nobles. The two keep the true ownership of each realm a secret between them lest one’s authority be questioned. It is from the Kingdom of Hazmstadt that most siliti hail and also part of the reason why the siliti tend to overwhelmingly be former humans, with occasional human livestock winning an elder’s favour and ascending to become siliti, as well as the cultural centre of all siliti. Over centuries of near total isolation among the stars, the Night Courts of Hazmstadt came to perceive themselves as godly in contrast to their mortal fare, adopting the holy tongue of flexio as their own, albeit bastardised by qualasheem and raev influences that resulted in the 'Immortal Tongue' that is Hazmeză, widely spoken throughout the Kingdom whilst also adopted as cultural code by many vampires on the mortal plane.

Upon their dual thrones of Hazmstatd, Numir and his Queen, Carical, are protected – or perhaps watched – by an elite order silit warriors known officially as the Cavalerii Sângeri (the ‘Blood Knights’) and more colloquially as the ‘Dreadguard’. At times ordained by Malghourn himself, the Dreadguard’s members arise from groups of Hallin Kord’s choosing, on a last-man-standing basis from a recruitment pool of what some speculate to be hundreds of the silit soldiery’s most skilled warriors. Their unofficial title comes from the strange custom of donning the cursed armour of Setherien’s great dreadknight legions of yore, as well as adopting the pseudonym of historic dreadlords that once reigned over the fallen dragaar’s soul-bound army. Whilst usually acting in the best interest of the Nine, common gossip amongst Hazmstatd’s courts suggests their true loyalty is to Malghourn alone, serving to keep the Trio – including even Hallin Kord himself – in check. 

Numir's bloodline has strong will and are expert liars; their body language cannot betray their intent and always seem to be telling the truth.

[Sovereign] Carical, the Queen

Once human, Carical belongs to the long line of Alhazred, distantly descended from Hazm himself and hailing from eastern Anthos. She now maintains the courts of the Kingdom of Hazmstadt as its queen, her own realm being interwoven with her spouse’s: one a farm-world of human livestock, the other a world-spanning kingdom of siliti subjects and nobles. The two keep the true ownership of each realm a secret between them lest one’s authority be questioned. It is from the  Kingdom of Hazmstadt that most siliti hail, and also part of the reason why the siliti tend to overwhelmingly be former humans, with occasional human livestock winning an elder’s favour and ascending to become siliti.

(This Archon’s origin and motives are left undefined at present, as it is our intent to allow ST interested in using this character for future events to reach out to us and collaborate on a story befitting their purpose)

Carical's bloodline has a matronly disposition and tactful minds; their charm is immense, allowing them to use the rite of restraints on siliti to stage 1.

[Trio] Hallin Kord, the Quartermaster

Once human, Hallin Kord now oversees Malghourn’s armies as his lieutenant. He is infamous amongst the  Kingdom of Hazmstadt as Malghourn’s drafter, often coming to the realm to conscript siliti recruits for another of the dragon’s campaigns from which, near immortal as the siliti may be, very few often return. Fiercely loyal, his realm is not truly his, but in fact a base of operations for the stone serpent’s militia, scattered with countless fortresses and training camps.

(This Archon’s origin and motives are left undefined at present, as it is our intent to allow ST interested in using this character for future events to reach out to us and collaborate on a story befitting their purpose)

Hallin Kord's bloodline has a penchant for honor and enhanced muscle memory, allowing them to learn physical crafts and techniques twice as fast.

[Stray] Cadmium, the Witch 

Once human, Cadmium was a sorceress who taught in the late years of Rivel after its castle had been sacked by the old dwarves of Urguan’s Hall and its flying citadel was fractured by Aeriel and Iblees’ vicious battle at the end of Aegis. Raised amongst the multicultural mage community that lingered in the ruins there, she was dear friends with two others of the splintered college, that of the dwarf Solomon and human Nirta. Their lives with their families upon the scattered floating islands of lost Rivel were harsh at times but the vast wealth of knowledge that lingered in the castles gave them the tools to prosper. Cadmium grew to be a brilliant mage by gleaning information from the troves of books scattered throughout Rivel where her fascination with the legendary Rasmot began and even learned of blood magic by tutelage of Nirta’s father. 

Despite increasing numbers and prospects for reuniting the shards of Rivel and rebuilding the lost college, the corruption of a man’s heart proved disastrous to their eclectic clan. In a night where Cadmium and Solomon had ventured off to plunder the great libraries they had returned in a panic where the community had been laid to waste in gorey fashion with carnage rampant between the homes. Before a great, spiraling gate of red mercury stood Nirta wailing into the night as her father dragged her into the portal, flanked by a pair of Mori’quessir, otherworldly dark elves in the eyes of Cadmium and Solomon. Panicked, they scoured the remnants of Rivel just briefly where they found everyone slaughtered to fuel the rift. Disheartened, they gathered their essentials and with confusion, terror, and bravery took to the portal in search of Nirta if not only for revenge upon her father. Spat out into a black cave, the pair were lost and slowly ventured out to find themselves lost in the realm of Asulon where they grew and learned more of the world.

There they met a far superior court of blood mages who, given their talents, inducted them and treated them as their own. Cadmium gained a silver tongue and mastered summoning rituals, once unleashing a horror upon the frozen village of Skravia and in turn one of her students eventually conjured a now-famous horror, Achan-Chatla. Amongst this court she was granted one of the first marrows which allowed her unnatural life but a far cry from immortality which also granted her extremely fluid movement, her peers mockingly calling her a witch that haunted the halls.

Eventually she and her childhood friend came into the service of Setherien and warred on his behalf, there meeting the sentient drake general of his, Malghourn, where they mingled with the other blood mages. Their cooperation after Setherien’s demise led to the Night of Ten Treacheries where Malghourn had swayed her with promises of the power to finally locate Nirta and her father, to rebuild her home, and to even rival Rasmot. Accepting his deal and taking part in the ritual she saw the fault in her judgement which struck her with shame for not only had she been willing to sell out her peers but even Solomon and he, her.

Cadmium then took on her title as the Witch and toiled away in her realm, the smallest of the nine, a twisting castle of endless chambers, stairwells, and halls with no exterior. Repeatedly underestimated by Malghourn thanks to her silver tongue - one of the few able to deceive him - she hides her true power and keeps to her mission: her chambers contain sets of gateways into different planes where she desperately searches for the great wizard Rasmot, thinking perhaps he if anyone could assist her.

Cadmium's bloodline has a keenness for theatrics, art, and expression and extreme flexibility and grace, that of dancers and contortionists and keen hand-eye coordination.

[Trio] Mictlanti, the Turnkey

Once a dark elf, Mictlanti was among the first of Malin’s line to set foot on Asulon, second only to Zanunder after having been ambushed by orcish slavers and chased through Nemiisae’s portals to the Verge and then upon Asulon with his Laurelin scouting party. There he fought hard to sustain a family in that accursed land, struggling against the elements and many hostile factions and beasts. His work as a craftsman was only so valuable when his small group of peers were more concerned about eating and finding shelter.

Disgruntled by their situation while squatting in a ruin amongst colossal trees, Mictlanti whittled away at an interlocking wooden ring, a gift he intended to offer a wood elven woman who had his eye. Then instructed to forage by his company’s officer, Mictlanti hid his carving and reluctantly ventured deeper into the great wood. Unfortunately for him he was soon after come upon by venturing Mori’quessir who hunted in the shade of the grand canopy wherein he was soon taken below and inspected, a rare sight.

The high priestesses were unsure of what to do with the elf for he was obviously no child of Nemiisae and inherently of lesser worth as a male. When his carving tools and gift were seized from his pockets however, they did find value in him. Mictlanti was enslaved as many were by the Mori’quessir and he served as a carpenter and learned the ways of gemcutting and jeweling from a poor male Mori relegated to the smithy. He quickly showed great skill for such crafts and was regarded as a master - but still a slave - within two years. Turmoil erupted in Menocress during the Terafil rebellion where Mictlanti was nearly killed for having last made a dresser for a Terafil noble were it not for a high lord of the Malachai stepping in to spare him, making light of his skill. During the conflict Mictlanti’s master was slain and soon after the same high lord bought him to be his personal craftsman.

Under his wing, Mictlanti was treated with uncommon grace and taught artificery and the ways of enchantment. As the confidence in their relationship increased and the elf produced remarkable works the Malachai leader revealed himself, dismissing an illusion which revealed him to be a human. Deeply confused, the man informed him of his magical talents and saw great potential in Mictlanti, willing to invest in him by teaching him of powers greater than mere Voidal enchantment but of the raw power hidden in the blood of mortals. Intrigued and bewildered, he accepted. As the years passed Mictlanti showed an equal knack for the dark art, their union creating objects of power of great use. His affinity also proved tainting as his mind deteriorated the more his skills were refined and Mictlanti forgot compassion and peace.

Years later, the Mori imposter was discovered either fled or was slain by the Mori’quessir, Mictlanti did not know. What he did know was that his position was therein compromised and when the guard came for him they were outmatched. Having plundered his master’s home for their many artifacts and objects of power, Mictlanti made a bloody escape through Menocress before eventually emerging from the waterfall entrance. He was met in the dark wood by an ominous bunch, a collection of blood mages come to aid their previous member. All they knew was that he was gone and in turn there before them stood a prodigy of his tutelage; the court inducted Mictlanti and he, a free man once more, reveled in his newfound capabilities. 

Amongst the court he became a specialist in invention, using creation rituals to craft the wildest of relics. His services were employed by Setherien once the court came under his dominion and he served as an architect in the Red Realm where he aided in the invention of the Black Scourge’s war machines and grand, wicked structures. With only mild appreciation for his peers amongst the court, taking to Eireamhan and Numir the most, he did not hesitate much to take Malghourn’s deal. After the ritual however he most especially lamented his decision upon realizing his true feelings for Hazm, a man of true gentile quality. 

As an Archon, Mictlanti became the Turnkey, Malghourn’s judicator which sparked his invention of the rite of rest and the creation of crimson coffins. He became more jaded and cruel after repeatedly being tasked to extract information from prisoners and his self hatred ate at him for his dismissive betrayal of Hazm, leading Mictlanti to spiral to become a bitter misanthrope, believing himself among the worst. Mictlanti broods within his realm of endless cells, cages, coffins, tombs, and dungeons in a labyrinth without exterior where he tends to prisoners and sealed away relics and monstrosities Malghourn wishes to torment, await execution, or be locked away and forgotten for eternity.

Mictlanti's bloodline has a fine appreciation for music and are inherently composed and are comfortable being statue-like - still and silent - for as long as they wish without going mad or getting tired, an invaluable skill when imprisoned. 

[Stray] Solomon, the Scholar

Once a dwarf, Solomon is rumoured to have invented the first dreadknights before the blood mages first surfaced in Asulon. An alchemist, philosopher and inventor, Solomon’s realm is a far-stretching taiga on which an odd blend between a factory and a college exists. There he reluctantly builds siege engines and other science-magic hybrid machines and tools for Hallin Kord’s soldiers. 

(This Archon’s origin and motives are left undefined at present, as it is our intent to allow ST interested in using this character for future events to reach out to us and collaborate on a story befitting their purpose)

Solomon's bloodline has a keen eye and appreciation for detail, to the extent of being able to envision the texture and makeup of alchemical reagents (as well as potions if they are already masterful alchemists) without the need of an ocular apparatus. This only functions on items within one block, for the sole purpose of deciphering signs and symbols.

[Stray] Illia, the Collector

Once a high elf and the weakest of the archons in terms of both physical and magical prowess, Illia’s realm is both a library and museum rivaling even those of Ixli, the spirit of forbidden knowledge itself. Pacifistic and quietly unwilling to fight for Malghourn, she is often found visiting the mortal plane disguised as an old wise woman, pinching books from libraries and tricking mages out of their artifacts in order to have them gather dust in her halls, all the while operating on the pretence to be ‘curating tools for Malghourn’. She has a deep rivalry with Solomon, whose blueprints and inventions are hoarded in his own realm. It is from Illia’s vast collection that the Dreadguard will source it’s armour, the bowels of her hoard rumoured to contain a thousand fallen dreadknights, whilst some speculate there are even weapons capable of granting Malghourn power beyond godhood in her collection but are buried so far beneath an ocean of useless trinkets that the Stone Serpent hasn’t bothered to check nor could most attempt to begin a search.

(This Archon’s origin and motives are left undefined at present, as it is our intent to allow ST interested in using this character for future events to reach out to us and collaborate on a story befitting their purpose)

Illia’s bloodline possesses the psychic ability of ‘dowsing’ wherein they can locate mundane objects (or written words) through supernatural means within 1 block (such as finding a desired object in a cluttered drawer or desired line in a passage) instantly. They are commonly covetous and hoard things.

[Trio] Krogak, the Headhunter

Once an orc, Krogak is a former devout of Enrokh, a shamanic warlord whose bloodlust is said to have remained constant since even before his time amongst siliti. Even more universally hated by the other siliti than Hallin Kord, during the years following their transformation he is the only of the Archons known to have visited the mortal plane and hunt descendants in the desert, unafraid of even the Unseen present there. Maddened by his thirst and the most physically imposing of the archons, the Headhunter serves Malghourn out of bloodlust with an affinity for violence, sent to eliminate the Stone Serpent’s enemies and begrudgingly deliver some to Mictlanti’s prison alive at times. Fresh siliti and the children of the  Kingdom of Hazmstadt are commonly told to check for a ‘Krogak in the closet’ before bed.

(This Archon’s origin and motives are left undefined at present, as it is our intent to allow ST interested in using this character for future events to reach out to us and collaborate on a story befitting their purpose)

Krogak’s bloodline has poor empathy yet find purpose easily to which they cling and possess ivory teeth as well as 2 extra pairs of retractable fangs, one on top and one on bottom. 

[Stray] Eireamhan, the Hermit 

Once a wood elf and perhaps the least known about of the archons (so much so that residents of the  Kingdom of Hazmstadt often believe there to be only eight), Eireamhan’s abilities and talents are unknown. Rumour has it that Eireamhan attempted to liberate the siliti from Malghourn but was backstabbed by Mictlanti, whilst other stories suggest he only slighted the Stone Serpent and Mictlanti wasn’t involved at all. One thing that is certain is that Eireamhan’s realm has become his prison for at least three hundred years where he is trapped in a sprawling plane to wander alone in its wilderness.

(This Archon’s origin and motives are left undefined at present, as it is our intent to allow ST interested in using this character for future events to reach out to us and collaborate on a story befitting their purpose)

Eireamhan's bloodline is unknown as he has been exiled to his plane for centuries and no known siliti come from him.

The archons mostly frequent the outer planes for safety for whilst Malghourn is their maker and requires them for errands and duties they are by no means safe from him or from one another. 

Red Lines

-The nine Archons can only be played by ST given managerial approval.
-The information in this post can only be learned through legitimate roleplay, tightly kept among silit circles.
-Using the word ‘siliti’ is the draconic term for slaves, used by Malghourn and viewed as too taboo to echo by the nine Archons. In this sense using silit / siliti in roleplay is metagaming, period.

Purpose

The nine archons solidify the aesthetic of ritualistic blood magic and mystical vampires as an alternative fashion to the old Dragon Age super-mage we’ve seen time and again where the actual magical properties are balanced and roleplay friendly while still allowing for the more ridiculous possibilities for ST events. Focusing on a conflict with dragonkin, each other, and the communities they enter, the nine are much more public and interactive vampires as opposed to striga which can more easily enable vampire hunting style events and roleplay. In the same vein, healthy conflict can arise between the two breeds of ‘vampire’ (should it be desired) as well as between the nine as internal struggles, given their thematically appropriate split in wants and desires.

As world lore, nine archons tie off the loose ends of the Asulon blood mage eventline and Anthos Black Scourge eventline by folding the 2.0 and 3.0 antagonists into the conclusion of the bohra extinction while adding a solid foundation for future event lines and old narrative conflicts. It opens the door to future tie-ins with ST projects regarding mystical, fantastical vampires, Hazmstadt (or the other eight realms and their respective characters), and the future schemes of Malghourn.

 Citations

Pale Blood Magic

Strigae
Malghourn
Siliti

Credits:
Mordu (Co-author)
Zarsies (Co-author)
 

-The Lord of Rivers, Marshes and Swamps-

Origins

Kri’Ki is the Prince of Crocodiles, Rivers, Marshes and Swampland, being the God of Armour, Patience and Seasonal Floods. Known in his realm within the Eternal Forest being a River that flows through all the Domains of the Fae feeding the growth and ensuring the denizens of the Fae Realm can survive and thrive through his guardianship of the rivers. While he maintains a watch on the rivers and tributaries within the Eternal Forest and the World at large, it does not mean they are not without dangers as he also represents the patient hunter readying to strike at any time from the depths, when prey leasts suspects. 

To many he may seem lethargic and slothful, resting most days until his hunger must be sated but to those in tune to his nature they understand that he is patience incarnate and knows only to use his energy when most needed to. A trait passed onto his subjects, the crocodiles and alligators of the world and that of the eternal forest, being hulky armoured beasts that while powerful and are not to be trifled with, representing to many that he is the God of protection as well as patience. 

Lastly it is known that he brings about the yearly flooding within his realm that stretches across the Eternal Forest, bestowing this blessing to those in the world itself should the balance be adequately adhered to by the descendants. Kri’Ki has known to be quick to anger, especially by descendants who do not follow any form of the balance, but also by his fellow Mani Princes having brought about droughts in vengeance and leaving the only bodies of water carefully guarded by his Crocodilian minions creating a treacherous risk for any who would seek to drink from his rivers. 

Patron Purpose

What Kri’Ki represents to many is the patient hunter and attempting to bestow this blessing upon all, but also representing boons such as natural armour. Outside of his more Cernunnos side, he also maintains the rivers, swamps and marshes, responsible for natural flooding that becomes the lifeblood to many, animal and descendant alike. Those who dare summon him and disturb his slumber typically seek to appease him for flooding, or are hunters seeking his patience and protection. 

As the lord of all Crocodilians he uses his subjects to maintain his gaze upon the waterways of the world to ensure the balance is kept within them and enacting vengeance upon those who seek to trespass and ruin them. All those who adhere to the Druidic Faith know that he may be laying in wait for anyone without them even knowing, despite the power and size of his minions, they always have the element of surprise on their side. 

Relationship with other Mani

Kri’Ki has something of a complicated relationship with the other Mani, having an affinity with the Avian Mani due to a shared protective nature over their nests, but holds something of a disdain for the Prince of Lizards, for it is he who represents those who would steal eggs from the nest. Outside of these Mani, Kri’ki tends to keep his distance from the others, once having fought with Morea and once having formed a bondship with Amaethon.

Dzalar’onn - Prince of Frogs 

A gadfly zips through the swampy air above a swampy wetland. Deep within the river grass of a slow moving creek, a tiny croak is heard. Suddenly a tongue whips out from the grass, snatching up the gadfly, disappearing as quick it had struck. Satisfied with his afternoon meal, the bullfrog leaps out the thicket and onto a lilypad, from where he dives into water and swims away. 

To many cultures across the continent, the Frog has always been seen as a humble, diminutive creature. Not so to the woodland elves, particularly the ones from tribes who dwell along river arteries. To the lives of the mali’ame in many ways revolves around the precarious balance between worlds. The mortal world, and the otherworld (known also as the Fae Realm). The humble frog lives on both land and sea, and thus is known to represent the crossing between the two, the parallel matching well with the Mali'ames lives.

The Mani of Frogs is known as Dzalar’onn, and indeed is the only Mani capable of phasing between the Faerie and Mortal realms at will. (The other Mani travel between the realms but can cross only on nights of the full moon, same as every other fae creature). Dzalar’onn enjoys this special status because he has been appointed by the Aspects as the primary peacekeeper between mortal and Fae, ensuring war does not erupt between the two worlds. In ages past, the Frog Prince has intervened on both sides, preventing the deadly Nightfall Imps from pouring into the mortal realm en masse, and preventing mobs of torch-bearing and iron-wielding humans from attempting to massacre peaceful faeries. 

One of Dzalar’onns main abilities is his prowess in shapeshifting. This is an extension of the general fluidity which defines his existence. As one can imagine, a village of Canonist humans might not be quick to accept an ethereal frog as an ambassador of peace. As such, the Frog Prince blends into the local environment, taking the form of human merchants, elvish warriors, and even various other animals and faerie creatures. It is from this phenomenon that the stories of Frogs turning into Princes, a common trope in Human folklore, was born. Some ancient, secret stories also claim that it was the Frog Mani who first taught the druids to shapeshift, but this has not been verified, and the truth of this will likely never be confirmed.

Another phenomenon to note is the cult of worship around Dzalar’onn present in Wonkish society. While the reformed wonks who roam the cities of men and elves have mostly left this worship behind, the tribal wonks, isolated in their indigenous swamps, still hold devoutly to the Frog Prince, who they call the Green Princess (sex and gender is fluid among Mani, and whether they are perceived as male or female generally depends on whether or not the culture that worships them associates masculine or feminine traits with that particular animal). However, whether or not Dzalar’onn had an active role in creating the Wonks as they are today is unknown. 

Danaay Taluwa - Prince of Salmon

A great river cuts across an ancient forest, the current is harsh, and splashes against the jagged rocks in explosions of white mist. This a waterway only the most foolish of men or elves would dare try to ply. And yet, a humble pink fin pokes out from beneath the churning waters. A sockeye salmon ardently battles the mighty river as it swims upstream, and soon is joined by more of its kin. A vast school of steely gills plunge desperately against the roaring currents. 

The Salmon are the king of the rivers, and for centuries the Wood Elven river seeds have long followed their annual migrations. The Mani Prince of Salmon is known as Danaay Taluwa, and is one of the most ancient mani, appointed by the Aspects to be the guardian of the worlds’ rivers and creeks. When men and elves overfish, pollute, or dam a pristine river, the disease and famine that often follow are attributed to Danaay’s silent wrath. Whereas when they do their utmost to live in harmony with the rivers’ natural flow, Danaay sends her children upstream in abundance so that they may enjoy the bounty of the salmon run.

Danaay Taluwa is thus a patron of fishermen, and Wood Elven tribes who’ve made their livings on or by the riverside. He is also a symbol of prosperity and natural cycles, due to the abundance and predictable annual nature of the Salmon runs. Furthermore, just as the Salmon ardently swim upstream and over the most daunting of waterfalls, Danaay is a symbol of perseverance and persistence in the face of great challenges. More amusingly, Danaay and Meracahe, the Prince of Beavers, have an ancient and playful rivalry- seeing as the latter always seeks to dam up the formers’ beloved rivers.

Stalashaan - The Prince of Orcas

The sea is calm in the great bay of Korvassa, and a small pod of harbour seals lounge on an outcropping of rocks a ways away from shore. All is calm, until a funnel of white mist shoots out of the water. As the seals begin to park and panic, an obsidian dorsal fin breaches the water, and is soon joined by four others just like it. The eerie chorus of a whales’ siren song echoes under the waters’ depths, the Orcas have come to hunt. 

When the Aspects created the mighty oceans, they birthed many of the Mani spirits that would serve as its aquatic guardians. Most important, however, were the cetacean trinity. This consisted of Sequana, Mani of the Great Baleen Whales, Hamatsa, Mani of Dolphins, and Stalashaan, Mani of the Orcas. Sequana was made the high prince of the oceans, Hamatsa became the gentle side of the seas, and thus a patron to healers. Stalashaan, however, represents the ocean at war. She is the storm and the churning waters, the riptides and the typhoons. Men and elves who betray the harmony of the ocean are subject to Stalashaan’s wrath. 

However, Stalashaan is not an entirely vindictive spirit, and provides spirit to those honourable warriors who fight on the sea. Although the wood elven people have never really had a formal navy, there have long been tribes that do battle on the open waters, atop mighty war canoes or speedy catamarans. Sea-warriors oft pray to Stalashaan before battle, because just as the Killer Whale is the apex predator of the oceans, their Spirit Prince is the patron of all warriors of the Sea.

Greater Elementals

The first six spirits are the only ones able to be contacted; the last eight cannot be pacted with, spoken to, or interacted with in any way.

Skathach - Spirit of fire, depicted as a burning wolf.

Akathro - Spirit of water, depicted as a half woman half fish.

Bregthar - Spirit of earth, depicted as an aged stone behemoth.

Fiarza - Spirit of air, depicted as an agile woman adorned in feathers, able to shift shape into any flying animal.

Kulthark - Spirit of metal, depicted as a hollow suit of armor that can shift shape into a variety of forms.

Neizdark - Spirit of storm, depicted as a mass of thundering clouds that can take on any shape.

Binazdar - Spirit of Light, depicted as a bright white cat, the brother of Radzanib.

Radzanib - Spirit of Dark, depicted as a jet black cat, the brother of Binazdar.

Fanzra - Spirit of Chaos, depicted as a hydra that never ceases to move its heads, the brother of Andrif.

Andrif - Spirit of Order, depicted as an aged and calm dragon, the brother of Fanzra.

Ringat - Spirit of Life, depicted as a white wolf, brother of Tagnir, they are always seen chasing each others tails.

Tagnir - Spirit of Death, depicted as a black wolf, brother of Ringat, they are always seen chasing each others tails.

Omnizan - Spirit of Space, depicted as a red snake, intertwined with its partner Sandru. Also take the form of a colossus wielding a shield made of the universe.

Sandru - Spirit of Time, depicted as a blue snake, intertwined with its partner Omnizan. Also takes the form of a colossus wielding a staff made of all time.

Immortal Spirits

The Immortal Spirits each reside in their own portion of the spirit realm, and cannot interact with other spirits or deities. Each portion contains a Greater Immortal, and a multitude of Lesser Immortals.

Greaters

Votar - Spirit of the hunt

Appears as a giant half-wolf-half-stag with a bloodied snout. Governs the art of hunting and is often praised by offering tribute in the form of hunting trophies.

Freygoth – Spirit of the wild, animal instinct, and beasts

Appears as any natural creature.

Enrohk - Spirit of bloodlust, savagery, and war

Appears as a berserker covered in blood.

Vulka - Spirit of warfare, strategy, and siegecraft

Appears as a woman made of bronze that is always preparing for war.

Jevex - Spirit of order, hard work, and self-sacrifice

Appears as a humanoid composed of interlocking gears. Enemy of Shezept.

Shezept - Spirit of revenge, plots, and stealth

Appearing as a woman with the lower body of a snake. It rewards those that tell it their darkest plots and secrets. Has a fascination for personal vendettas.

Ixli - Spirit of forbidden knowledge, truth, and judgement

Appearing as a giant staring eye. It provides knowledge at the cost of sanity.

Ogrol - Spirit of despair, sapped strength, and entrapment

Appears as a large cage full of writhing bodies. It attempts to lock all who summon him away in its prison.

Kor - Spirit of the dead

Appears as a cloaked man with a bony open hand and a lantern. Unique in that he has a method of being outside the Immortal Plane in order to guide the souls of the departed to the Ancestral Plane. He is the gatekeeper of Stargûsh’Stroh.

Ankrus - Spirit of the sea, marine life, and sea-faring

Appears as a aquatic woman wielding a trident. Said to bless ships of honour in their oversea journey, though is without mercy for ships that dare defy its will.

Arwa - Spirit of fertility, harvest, and farming

Appears as a plump female made of hay.

Anyhuluz - Spirit of destruction, malicious intent, and internal strife

Appears as a warrior covered in open wounds.

Akezo – Spirit of health, vitality, and healing

Appears as a winged serpent surrounded by a blue aura.

Paxahru - Spirit of arrogance and stupidity

Appears as a boasting fool.

Ublulhar - Spirit of hope and new beginnings

Appears as an entling bursting from the ground.

Ghorza - Spirit of travel, movement, commerce, and fortune both bad and good

Appears as an old traveller with a walking stick, with various fetishes attached.

Rolfizh - Spirit of murder, the clandestine, and poison

Appears as a dagger-bearing figure made of shadow.

Trokorl - Spirit of engineering, machinery and construction

Appears as a pile of building materials and metal that can take any shape.

Luara - Spirit of the moon

Appears as a pale white wolf.

Kezt - Spirit of honour and bravery

Appears as a bright silver hoplite.

Ramakhet - Spirit of the desert, barren lands, and sand.

It is never seen and therefore is only represented by its name. Sworn to scour the world of all life at the end of time.

Krathol - Spirit of pain, suffering and starvation

Appears as a skeletal vulture, endlessly picking at its bones.

Gazigash - Spirit of blood, bones, and flesh

Appears as a woman made of blood adorned with bone jewellery.

Veist - Spirit of illusion, tricks, and thievery

Appears as a faceless man with a thousand arms.

Glutros - The spirit of greed and obesity

Appears as a large serpent coiled around a pile of gold and treasure.

Thulezia - Spirit of lust, pleasure, and beauty

Appearing as a succubus-like creature who shifts between male, female, or both. Will attempt to lure all who summon it into temptation and seduction. If it succeeds it will entrap them.

Isuz - Spirit of love, caring, and tranquility

Appearing as an Aengul that brings warmth to every beating heart.

Kinul - Spirit of disease, pestilence, and failure

Appears as a wailing man with limbs constantly growing then falling off due to necrosis.

Urin - Spirit of weather, seasons, and climate

Appearing as a raven that changes colour and temperament with the seasons.

Kesaroth - Spirit of envy, hatred, and jealousy

Appears as a golden bull.

Leyd - Spirit of dominance and physical strength

Appears as a strong man with burned off skin and blackened flesh.

Scorthuz - Spirit of cleansing, purity and purging

Appears as a watery mass that takes many forms.

Aztran - Spirit of the sun, stars, and the ethereal

Appears as a deep purple and orange Qing Long.

Theruz - Spirit of intelligence and learning

Appears as a wise old teacher. Sibling of Betharuz.

Betharuz -Spirit of alcohol, cactus green and celebration

Appearing as a jovial young man, in direct contrast to his sibling, Theruz.

Velkumezt - Spirit of cities, settlements, and the law

Appearing as a giant carrying a hammer. With a single smash he can erect a city around him.

Gentharuz - Spirit of smithing, smelting, industry and forging

Appearing as a huge swirl of matter in the shape of a man’s torso, hammering a cosmic anvil.

Ikuras - Spirit of fear and insanity

Appears as a dark void with tendrils creeping out. Often likes to pretend it is a daemon.

Brimztra - Spirit of creativity, art, and music

Appears as a blank page that fills and empties itself with words, music notes, and art.

Drelthok - Spirit of sleeping and dreams

Appears as a drowsy bear.

Eathruz - Spirit of dawn and dusk

Appears as a red woman able to transform into a fury red hawk.

Kotrestruu - Spirit of memory and the recording of knowledge

Appears as a wizened old man made up of scripture. Is known to carry a vial that acts as a canister of memories taken from mortals.

Letrothak -Spirit of hindsight, warnings, and excuses

Appears as a small man with a head completely covered in eyes.

Xaakt - Spirit of rebellion

Appears as a ghastly figure that can take on any form it wants.

Etna - Spirit of melancholy and depression

Appears as a sluggish six-legged donkey.

Âmul – Spirit of wisdom and foresight

Appears as a robed figure bearing two carved tablets with ever-changing words on them. One bears the wisdom of elders, the other bears warnings of the future.

Dazkur - Spirit of protection and loyalty

Appears as a large man in steel armor, carrying nothing but a shield.

Notable Lessers

Laklul - Spirit of swamps and swamp life

Lesser under Freygoth. Appears as a large pale yellow toad-like creature.

Jezdurka - Spirit of lesser dragonkin (dragons, drakes, wyverns, etc)

Lesser under Freygoth. Appears as a red and white dragon.

Levaz - Spirit of slaves and slavery

Lesser under Leyd. Appears as a man with robes made of chains with a train of slaves following.

Zagbal - Spirit of jungles and the wildlife native to it. Lesser under Freygoth. Appears as a gorilla with a crocodile's head.

Eques - Lesser Immortal Spirit of Dignity and Gallantry under Kezt

Appears as a mysterious figure dressed in clad iron armor.

Kaas - Lesser Immortal Spirit of reconnaissance, stealth, and secrecy, under Vulka

Appears as a purple-scaled python. Kaa contrasts to Shezept, as the intentions of Shezept are for personal vengeance, whereas the actions that Kaa oversees are for the purposes of warfare and the taking of bad actions for the greater good.

Greater Ancestral Spirits

While all Ancestral spirits are able to be contacted, the less known are not listed here as it includes all ancient deceased worshippers of the spirits. This list is for the truly ancient orcs of eons past, and can be added to with other long-dead orcs of Krug’s era.

Krug - The first and greatest Shaman. Due to his greatness in life, he is an exceptionally powerful ancestral.

Lur - Said to be the greatest hunter in history.

Rax - Said to be the greatest warrior of all time.

Gorkil - Known as a great military strategist and tactician. His firstborn son, Angbad, created the Gorkil clan.

Braduk - Famed as a great chieftain.

Dom - Said to be an exceptional shaman, second only to Krug.

Ugluk - Third born kub of Gorkil, renowned as a great warrior.

Azog - Said to be the greatest smith in history. Third son of Gorkil.

Kurak - Also known as the wolf of Lur.

Tor - Also known as the Fist of Lur, renown for his calm, collective intellect and physical strength.

Trickster - Trickster of Lur, he was renowned for his subterfuge. His skills at deception and diversion were so great his identity was unknown.

Bralkor - The Axe of Lur, known for his great resistance to physical damage.

Jarkun - The Sword of Lur, known for strength combined with dexterity and speed.

Yar - Descended from Dom (though this is not recorded), known for his great wisdom and spirituality.

Yaggo - Sometimes called the greatest rider of all time.

Dregort - The greatest boat builder and captain to have ever lived, legend holds his mother was Ankrus herself.

Grumbag - Known in life as a great builder, he is the patron of all Yazgars.

Vargo - Known for being a great alchemist.

Notable Lesser Ancestral Spirits

This list is for all notable spirit worshippers who have done enough to get them noticed on the ancestral plane. Good leaders of communities are more likely to be listed here, if their deeds are impressive enough. These ancestral spirits have the ability to offer their blessing or imbue their curse to those who visit them, and must be RPd (or have permission to be RPd by) the original player.

Kharak [Smawton] - An exceptional Orcish Rex who created the world's greatest ever tribute to a Spirit in the form of the Orgonic plague. Known for his exceptional spirituality and leadership.

Phaedrus [CosmicWhaleShark] - Liberator of the Wood Elves, and first Elven Rex of the War Uzg as well as a great shaman. Renowned for his honour, wisdom, integrity and tenacity.

Khel [Baconthief] - One of the greatest mali'ker to live, he lifted his people out from the abyss. He is renowned for his frightful ferocity paired with a cunning mind.

Arganos [FactCore]  - A superb party goer and thrower, and a maestro in the art of entertainment and celebration. Renowned for his skill in acrobatics and many musical instruments, a true patron of Betharuz.

Jiub [Sky] - An immense figure who founded the Div'cruan. Known for his strength, honour, and bravery.

Delilah [Decolamb] - A matriarchal figure to the dark elves during the time of Thales and early Athera, her love and care brought many dark elves into the fold and gave them purpose.

Grubgoth Wud [Grubgoth_Wud] - A notoriously savage olog of a tremendous height and weight, and an uncannily skillful chef. Notably Grubgoth of the War Uzg under a myriad of Rexes, and Keshig under the plague-bringer Kharak’Raguk. For a brief period, he commanded his own clan of ologs.

Skalp’Raguk [Minagobbler] - A red-skinned orc who rose to Rexdom at the tender age of 12, and united his brothers through a long, popular, and successful Rexdom. His final act of devotion to his people was to take his own life via an explosive vest in the Dwarven throne room, along with that of several dwarves in an act of retribution.

Origin

Like most they were born into the world with the screams of their maker. As their father Vaasek’s body numbed and unraveled into ribbons and his wails sundered out into the black void the kabalees took shape from what was left. His divine fabric strained and cut to make their bodies, a piercing eye at their core wreathed with many slithering limbs. Born in fear just as he they panicked and fled, darting off into the far reaches of the cosmos while wrapping themselves in illusion.

From the seat of Pax Vaasek could feel his children and they he, a connection deep and intrinsic between them just as father and child. The kabalees possess his great dominion over fallacy but too immense clarity and perception; they can both shroud themselves in illusion while manifested or hide in the ethereal borders yet all the while observe with a vigilant gaze. They became his eyes and ears while he remained in self-exile, spying upon the mortals below while he hatched schemes. They are his witnesses (called hereinafter).

Personality

Witnesses are quite literally the body of Vaasek for they were made through his own self-imposed destruction to abdicate to his plane and because of that they share his deeply rooted paranoia and delusions although they are his extensions and he is their mind. Witnesses themselves are direct feeds to the elusive daemon and majorly have his personality albeit diluted and subdued as they are not as thinking and feeling as he is, their mind, but rather they act on his behalf as a body would.

As such, the personalities of witnesses are usually only expressed when they take on a persona to interact with the world. In these situations where witnesses put on the face, be it of a mortal or some other being, they can express any personality amongst a wide rainbow of potential traits and do so in pursuit of some goal; they exist to manipulate and exploit others and therefore put on personalities that would enable such work. They may be amicable and sweet, stern and snide, or whatever type of personality they see fit to don in order to bait others into doing their bidding.

Witnesses have little individuality and see themselves are both independent from Vaasek but also a part of him and couldn’t conceptualize betraying him.

Goals

Witnesses serve as the instruments for Vaasek’s goals. He is eaten with anxiety from the vision he had of his death at the hands of mortals which inspired his sundering and the making of the witnesses; while he is safely watching and controlling from his plane it is the duty of the witnesses to prevent his assumedly impending death. They protect him through muddying the waters with misdirection and stirring conflict. Above all else the witnesses seek to ensure Vaasek’s safety by keeping his existence unknown while also occupying any who might threaten that secrecy. Because of this witnesses most commonly roam the mortal realm as well as neighboring planes and some of the fates in order to monitor the worlds and compile information on their activity.

However, sometimes witnesses play a more direct role than mere observers. Sometimes they briefly manifest and while cloaked in invisibility they grace a stray mind with a touch of worry, some fear, uncertainty, or apprehension. They may spur on anxiety or feed paranoia to force desperation and anguish or incite caprice like sudden betrayal. They raise tension. Sometimes they leave a touch of misleading thoughts or invoke impulsive lies to stir up a scene or afflict mortals with hallucinations or strange delusional thoughts to drum up chaos. Their influence is tactical however and their strikes usually begin a domino effect of consequences. As well, not always do they play in the background for should the right occasion some or opportunity present itself a witness may manifest alone or with others and take on the shapes of creatures, be they wild beasts or cultured mortals, and act their part to drive a story as they see fit. They may pose as foreign diplomats seeking grand investment from a vulnerable lord to try and bankrupt his land to create a power vacuum in the region or they may pretend to be a poor elven spy discovered in the antechamber of a dwarven king to ratchet up political tensions. Whatever it may be witnesses aim to create conflict and stir drama for every scandal, conspiracy, and tragedy causes more infighting and instability amongst the mortals.

However, witnesses are not bloodthirsty and generally disdain taking lives and tend to be unable to do so themselves, oftentimes relying on those they manipulate to do any real harm. They do not seek the destruction of nations or guilds, only their attention.

Some, however, find their homes within mortals. Individuals Vaasek has found an opportunistic advantage in can host a witness to allow them sight and some of their powers, known as seers. This marriage of witness and mortal allows Vaasek and his witnesses more intimate influence in the world through the way of underground fraternities, secret societies, and dark cabals to manipulate the numerous factions from within.

Abilities

Witnesses are masters of fallacy, that of illusion and trickery. Through their divine nature as the remnants of Vaasek’s body they can manifest and demanifest to a degree similar to a deity, however they are merely ethereal and unseen in this state, more so than a mere ghost or trickster wizard. Most witnesses linger in his border state and simply watch over the world. They may fly and in most cases even penetrate the earth, phasing through the world to go where they may.

When they do choose to manifest they have many forms of deception to work with, be it taking on a physical shape of any kind or deceiving others with illusions of the world or invade their minds with false beliefs and lies. They can assume the identity of most anything although multiple witnesses usually join efforts when taking on the shape of something quite large albeit rarely act so flamboyant. They make very convincing mages as they can imitate any form of magic albeit without much true physical impact; they are keen on using other witnesses to play their victims in order to sell their validity.

As for what they are most known for, witnesses have piercing, discerning eyes. Their gaze pierces smoke, water, even earth and flesh. They can perceive through the world like it were glass and even into mortals, reading them as though their intents and desires were written on their foreheads. They can derive information from objects to extreme lengths and can share their vision, all feeding into Vaasek and between one another.

[Essentially look at seer abilities and take it up a few notches and those are things witnesses can do and more.]

Current Location

Witnesses are most places most times. There is not an overwhelming number of them however their gaze can travel for miles and they roam very frequently. They tend to linger on the mortal realm however they do drift about in other nearby planes, in Ebrietaes and some of the fates, and sometimes breach the planes of other deities and peek around and flee before they are discovered. They watch over the cosmos but are most interested in mortals as they were the ones Vaasek was in his vision and therefore as the ones he perceives as a threat the most. Some, however, do sit in singular locations and watch over particular things, specifically artifacts and relics of power for Vaasek is keenly interested in their fates and who may use them and what for.

Purpose

Witnesses are an integral part to explaining the dynamic between Vaasek’s position as an isolated deity, his quasi-omniscience, his ability to affect the world, and seers. They are his hands to act through in order to nudge things and create domino effects and what he may bestow upon mortals to act in his favor. On a broader scale they serve the purpose of a plot device in many ways for because the witnesses see so much Vaasek is bound to have highly valuable, secretive information on many subjects that gods, mortals, or other such things may want very badly and could be used in storytelling. On a smaller scale they can be used to explain political turmoil or great uproars in the status quo as witnesses pulling strings to upset the balance of things and causing change and drama.

Citations

Smawton’s Vaasek
Zarsies’ Vaasek
(Old) Seers
(New) Seers

Note: For event use please consult Zarsies or appropriate ST management/members to aid you. Witnesses can very easily be used incorrectly via misunderstanding or overestimation of the lore. Because they are patrons you will need ST management approval to play them.

 

Art by Nordheimer

The Tyrant of Greed - Uzhrun

Also known as – “Balek’oz”, “The Fallen Dragaar”, “The Inept One”

Symbol: The Slug

Realm: The Weeping Spires

Origin/Background

The mantle of Greed was one that was gained, not born into. For it relies on a story about temptation, opportunity and then the downfall of an overzealous Dragaar.

Balek’oz was born into the era of Dragur, where he first broke the lands and birthed those of the dragonkin. Brothers and sisters were created and yet Balek’oz was not granted any special gift or magic that differed from the other dragaar. He instead was made with the intention of cannon fodder, Dragur’s own insight knew of the impending battle with the Betrayer himself. Balek’oz roamed the lands, placing himself at the barricades of Horen’s realm that were ignited in a constant battle between the undeath and their survival. A stalwart defender, where he bathed those in dragonfire that intruded on the outskirts of the brothers. He was a bastion of defence, of protection, yet he grew jealous of the other Dragaar that seemed more powerful. Those that could manipulate the winds, warp time and do more than the bathing of hellfire onto those that opposed his father’s wishes.

The Betrayer himself confronted Dragur on the fields of battle, morphing his very form to the corrupted wyrm that would tear apart his own kindred. Those who were stalwart protected descendants, others were torn asunder by the ebony maw and the plans of the betrayer. Yet, Balek’oz fled, away from the bastions of Horen, away from the forests of Malin, the caves of Urguan and the tattered war camps of Krug. He fled deep to the North, where the influence of the hell-borne Daemon did not touch. 

Yet the binding of Dragur himself was a vision ingrained in the mind of Balek’oz, uneffected by the blight of Iblees, yet he remained horrified by the judgement of that entity of balance. A power so great that blinded all those nearby, where his father and countless siblings were banished completely. Once again, fleeing was the only option, the unscathed dragaar’s cowardice against forces beyond his comprehension. Mediocrity, one would never think that would be the main word used to describe beasts of grandeur, but that was all Balek’oz would fill his own mind with.

Years passed as he sat secluded in the North of Aegis, disconnected from all, from mortals, from his own kin. Until the four descended to take the final blows against the betrayer himself. That of Gavrael, Perpertiael, Jophiael and Malchadiael, whom turned into weapons that the brothers themselves wielded to finally place a true wound in Iblees. Yet, through this transformation created an instance of opportunity. Those mantles that the four had undertaken were now vacant, martyrdom now leaving these an empty void within the realm of the gods. 

Balek’oz himself warped his form and flew towards the realms of the veil, where the Aengul of Success’ realm laid vacant. The opportunistic Dragaar entered the realm and slaughtered those who lay inside, powerless against the beast of grand proportions. Yet when Balek’oz took the mantle of the Realm of Success, he was instead rejected by it. The realm was beautiful, yet it melted and warped itself to a state of permanent entropy. The spires of gold and silver twisting into long stretches of mismatched wasteland, buildings crumbling and souls that lay within vacated from the sudden shift.

Balek’oz was transformed by this, taking the mantle. His scales of silver instead turned into long sagging pieces of flesh, his size grew gargantuan where his limbs were out of proportion with the rest of his body. Small stumps against the rotund mass that expanded, where all he tried to do was take on the mantle of Success, he instead fell for true temptation. A paranoid, gluttonous entity now inhabited the former Aengul’s realm. Unable to truly use the power of the realm, he is left to his own devices.

Where the mediocre dragaar once stood, a failing decrepit entity remained. One that could not even utilise its own realm, the true price of theft and greed.

REALM

Art by WorldAnvil

The Weeping Spires

The former realm of “Success” is left in complete disarray after the creation of Uzhrun and the Dragaar’s fall from grace. The realm was that of great spires of gold and silver, representations of architecture and innovation that dwelled in the minds of descendant kind. Yet, when the Dragaar’s own form was twisted, those spires fell into twisted and lifeless husks of their former creations. Buildings and structures of great shrines and temples crumbled to dust, leaving their foundations. Pyramids of gold and silver were ransacked by entities that came after the great “fall”.

Reaping the rewards of the absent Aengul instead brought upon the ruin of this realm. For the hard work and services created by those that followed Perpertiael’s guidance, they were twisted and destroyed to the whims of the invading force. That of the mediocre, the opportunistic and the weak. For this, those damned to no true afterlife are instead brought into this realm to be transformed by the very landscape. This serves as a purgatory realm where many do not lie within, for fear of permanent disfigurement or changes that may come from the influence of The Inept One.  Most of the Aengudaemons steer clear of this stolen realm for obvious reasons, they are unknowing of the true weakness that Uzhrun has. Instead, they believe for him to be a figure of great power and strength for having absorbed the former Aenguls mantle. Yet it is all a facade, this entity is quite weak considering the other aengudaemons, it holds onto its semblance of power through the use of its Patrons and the guise of false power.

The decaying and decrepit wasteland is barren for the most part. Sprawling and jagged crevices of sunken buildings, collapsed hills and warped mountains all encapsulate the entity’s realm. The lifeless husk being devoid of attention except for its centre, where the lair of Uzhrun lies. For kilometers around his resting place, pockets of material wealth and objects of divinity are scattered and stacked haphazardly. Objects of wealth and power which are arranged similiar to that of a junkyard, where artefacts of Xan intermingle with statues of the former Aeldenic Elven empire. All of these things gathered by the true patrons of Uzhrun, “The Devourers”.

In it’s centre is the endless mountain of gold, where the former dragaar rests unbothered and untouched. His form so fat that he’s unable to feasibly move, chained by his own averice. All he truly seeks is praise and respect, yet his patrons do as such through falsities and playing upon the natural aspects of descendant greed.

Patrons - Uzhrun’s Devourers 

Art by hcf-albert-wesker

“Those are the legless vultures, an omen according to the dagger ears. Yet they come when they fall.” - Kaedreni Officer during the Varendozian Crusades

These creatures are damned souls that have been misplaced within the Weeping Spires. Souls with no true directive that have “fallen” out of the Ebriates. When entering the realm, the souls are transformed into slug-like beings with the capabilities of shapeshifting, akin to the dragaar themselves. These creatures range in a variety of sizes, some of them being the size of large fortresses while others are the size of a fingernail. What they exist to do is consume, whether that be physical or societal “gains”. 

These parasitic patrons are believed to be an omen, visible when Grand Empires fall or places of repute are decaying. What they do is wrap their flesh around an object and completely consume it, which connects directly to Uzhrun’s lair. Yet, they also have the ability to shapeshift into any entity in existence, lacking any true power but only being a “veil” of misinformation. This is where the worshippers get promises and different stories relating to the Tyrant of Greed, his patrons spreading constant misinformation and claiming credit for events that never happened.

- If played by an ET, these patrons are easily killable and will NEVER reveal their true purpose. If killed, they will simply dissolve into a puddle of strange fleshy goop.

– These creatures can be used creatively as omens, or direct influencers in the mortal realms. It is up to Story Team decision.

Following

Uzhrun’s presence within the mortal realm is a mixture of praise and hatred. His own actions are unknown to most, with his fall and other information only known by Esthael, Dragur and a few other entities that watched from the sidelines. To those within the mortal realm, Uzhrun is viewed in two different distinct ways.

The first places Uzhrun in a positive light, he is seen as a humanoid figure and patron of merchants. Uzhrun apparently blesses those that donate gold to him, rewarding safe travel for those who travel within caravans between cities. He is seen as a benevolent guide, all because of acts that were falsely misconstrued as his influence. Yet the second places him in his true light, he is referred to occasionally as a figure relating to Naztherak Sin, yet has no true affiliation with such. He is depicted as a demonic figure who is focused solely on avarice and greed, showing a true tale of the “evils” that roam around the ideas of human morality.

He has been referred to in a variety of manners and “aspects”, which include but are not limited to “Temptation, Greed, Avarice, Sex, Sloth, Gluttony, Misfortune”. Specifically, the Velians believe that Uzhrun is one of the gods of Fertility and Agriculture, all because of the lies that are placed to those populations. 

One of the forms of worship to Uzhrun’s “true” intentions is that of the Bathing of Purity. This is a loose ritual where the said worshipper creates a shallow pool of items of high material worth, (normally gold) and submerges themselves amongst them. The idea of showering oneself with precious materials is meant to ward off ideas of Greed for a few days, appeasing Uzhrun and granting exemptions to the mortal form.

Present Day

Uzhrun simply lies within his realm, content at continually filling his realm with relics that are stolen or long forgotten. His quest to avoid concepts of mediocrity drive his very existence, with the realm exaggerating such desires to a point where it is in constant decay itself. 

Purpose (OOC)

This is an Aengudaemon who serves as a story of “Temptation”, one who isn’t seen as some divine creature but a morphed opportunistic creature damned for their selfishness. This allows for a new avenue and rebranding of gods to those who are greedy or materialistic, while also offering the potential use of the patron to be an ET creature.

Greater Mani

Gûlgarmadh, Prince of Scorpions and Arachnids

(Created by fooyee).

“Mi peep latz bruddaz retern frum thaer votar. Dubty...nub, futhty! The waghoff haz thaer luzk rayzed in viktoree, letting owt a waghcri akrozz the zand zea. Latz bruddaz drag h’azh flat zkaddernackz whif menee howlurz agh jabbernackz. Azh iz a bub’hozh muhther, the zize of the Muun...o how they zelibrayt...But the muunlite zpellz thaer duum. The grownd iz burzt open, the zand arownd them fallz. ZLAM- all futhty agh thaer beazteez behind barz of bone. Ztaering down buurz zkorpien. Nub, zkaddernack... mabee... Gûlob garmadh. The dahm beazt toar latz bruddaz limb frum limb!”

-Visions of a nameless Dom Clan Lutamen

Llan’sae, Princess of Sea Turtles

(Credit to GaleforceRin).

“Oh Goddess of the Tides and Eldest of Shells,

Whose sanctuary harbors many and knows more than she can tell,

We give to you our devotion.

We show to you our respect for your kind.

Oh grandest Llan’sae grant us passage, show us the old order.”

-Prayer of Passage, translated from days of yore

Sha’maidan, Princess of Elephantidae

(Art by AnatoFinnstark).

“...How can one so small carry something so great? Unjust- that is what your kind would call it. Often would they plead for my aid, listing misfortunes without a single solution to offer: a pity. Let it be a lesson to keep close to heart, young one. The prospect of every peak will only amount to the stones that comprise its base. Now it is your turn to tell me, how does your generation intend to shoulder this burden?”

-Scribed from the Monument of the Mason, once whispered to be ten-thousand paces offshore of Aegis

Lesser Mani

Vesper, Prince of Bats

(Sourced from Reddit, credit to Saeed Ramez).

“Expect nay a shred of my sympathy for your wretched curse. All descendants are born ignorant of the realm they inhabit, yet trying to cheat death is a fool’s errand. A deaf endeavor that will never know solace. Look to your former kin, how they fear and despise you. Routing your ilk out of the dark places with fangs of earth and flame, while making my kind rrrrrestless! Each of you is an atrocity- an existence gladly gone. Yet tonight has shown a glint of promise. So long as there are mortals, there will also be monsters. Your deaths will solve nothing. Instead, I offer a choice: pledge yourselves to defend the blood of my blood, or let the curse consume what semblance of self remains.”

-Bargain of the Bat; the night of the Culling of Kabergard, 1498

Tāmatu, Prince of Crabs

(Artwork by miriamrez).

“Ack, I already told ya, ya daft pill...er, I mean Sir! ‘Et was a giant crab! A giant crab done took the ship, none of ‘dis foul-play bollocks. Ya haf to believe me! How long haf I served the fleet? Ten!? Fifteen years of ‘dis awful place and notta once did I waver. Notta once did I pinch food, wine, or women! I’m as clean as the Capten’s Quarters. The varmint held me up in ‘ets pinchers and looked me in the eye. Hollered so loudly ‘dat I coughed up supper. Must have spoiled ‘ets appetite too cause ‘et done flung me starboard- righ’ before cleavin’ the Augur in haff! Honest to GOD, Sir!”

-Interrogation of Aarlan Ansley, helmsman of the royal galleon Ark Augur, 1615

Amametta, Prince of Peafowl and Paradisaeidae

(Piece by Nojjesz).

“...Fledglings must learn that love cannot be founded frivolously. Fathering young requires time and dedication, yes, but love must persist without a doubt. The former plants a seed to set-up for success, the latter only gardens as long as you draw bated breath. Both are beautiful, yet they require aspects of the heart that are otherwise apart.”

-Writings of Taliar Amehier, an alleged apostle of Amametta

Drongo, Prince of Chameleons

(Artwork created by RuslanKadiev).

“All I remember is eating some berries, the same I pick every afternoon. But this time was different, the world around me started to spin. Spun so much that I wanted to die. Wanted to die so much that I started to sing a song about dying, and all the voices of the forest joined in. Flowers with the faces of people I used to yearn for started to flirt with me. I saw a rainbow of trees dance underneath a sky made out of eyes... I um... I-I think I was shot out of a donkey’s...actually, I’ll just spare you the details. When I came to I was hanging upside-down from a tree, fifty feet high. A taste of bugs in my mouth, vomit on my robes, and a headache almost as bad as my attunement to top it off.”

-Anonymous druid's account after publically denouncing Drongo

Sabio, Prince of Albatross and Seabirds

(Painted by Magali MB Gauthier).

“There I was- the last of my crew who hadn’ died of thirst ‘er hunger. Some lasted longer...but in the end couldn’t live wit’ what they had done...what we all did to survive. I pray fer their forgiveness, good Father, an’ hope I can make amends in the eyes of GOD. The Sun scorched everything, my skin, the air, an’ my regret. I was desperate. An albatross landed on the crow’s nest an’ fer the longest time my eyes stared. Thinkin’ about snapping its neck and eatin’ something besides...but then I remembered me granddad. Somethin’ he told me as a boy. So I carved an albatross into the mast an’ pleaded fer the Saint of the West. Begged fer deliverance on my hands an’ knees ‘til I collapsed. Initially, I thought meself a fool. But then I felt the blessed breeze, passing out as a great pair of wings obscured the Sun.”

-Confession of an anonymous sailor, circa. 1631

Fih’uell, Princess of Locusts

(Sourced from ProtectedArt on Pinterest).

”Lil’ Jon found a grasshopper, Asked ‘im for a bite to eat,

Stole from his Papa’s field and said not a peep!

Ran ‘round together, Playing hide n’ seek,

Friends forever to sing together ‘til Jon falls back to sleep.

Took more heads of cabbage, Papa came a-lookin',

Papa said she’d eat ‘is hand if ‘e didn’t quit it.

But ‘e didn’t listen, Fed ‘er right through the drought,

Came the rain and sure as rain she flew into a fit!

Locust swarms, Lady ‘hores, Leavin’ not a leaf,

People die, Say goodbye, Leavin’ Jon behind.

He asks ‘er why, She only cries...

And counts ‘is final sheep.”

-Lil’ Jon and The Locust, a children’s sing-along

Purpose of Lore
 

Citation

Credits

Delmodan- for the current state of Mani lore, giving feedback, and lending inspiration to the overall lore

Nivndil- for feedback and being my most reliable name critic

Keefy & Dwyn- for their insightful suggestions

...And all the other folk who gave me suggestions/inspiration along the way. Cheers!

Mani Squid Prince of Laughter, Festivities, and Companionship

The joyful Prince of Squid is well renowned for his amusement and liveliness, a Mani often held in less regard compared to the others - yet a wondrous creature all the same. His flexibility in form reflects upon his flexibility in persona, a delightful and entertaining Mani capable of exuding a more regal posture when required.

His gifts lay in his desire to bring joy and laughter to others - often being held in high regard when his subjects decide to plan some form of entertaining event. When one seeks blessings of fortunate events and new friendships, they may turn to Kalii’mari and pray to him.

Origin / Backstory:

Upon the shores of the ancients, laughter could often be heard echoing through the caverns and across the waves lining the shallow beaches. It was once well-known that those who basked in the sun and twirled through the shimmering waters were to be good friends to all, and some of the most fortunate. For it was they who worshipped the Prince of Squid - he who was quite opposite to the others that stalked the depths. Taking up month-long festivities at a time in which they would celebrate their companionship's and happiness, the Wood Elven Seeds who worshipped this Mani would often create handmade gifts for one another and to sink to Kalii’mari in hopes for good fortune and new friendships.

Patron Purpose:

As most of the well-known Mani represent the necessities for survival, hunting, and protection, Kalii’mari serves as a reminder to gaze upon the world with a warmer perspective. Quite different to the other, more serious and regal Mani, the Prince of Squid watches over those of his faith with a friendlier demeanour, more hopeful for their good fortune and new companionship's.

Abilities:

As explained in the ‘Demi-Gods of the Wilds Clarifications’ post [Linked in the ‘References’ spoiler below], Kalii’mari is able to be summoned in both an Ethereal form, and a Corporeal form. However, some points regarding these abilities & summoning will be clarified in the case of Kalii’mari:

Ethereal Form

•  In regards to summoning other squid of any size, it would be unheard of for Kalii’mari to use these squid in any form of combat or ill intent - aside from in the case of self-defence.
• In regards to inducing visions & illusions, it would be unheard of for Kalii’mari to invoke fear, wrath, or any other form of mental/emotional harm or distress onto a person
• In regards to Ethereal Form Summoning, only large bodies of water may be used to summon the Mani, such as a deep lake connected to the ocean, or the ocean itself. Rivers and ponds cannot be used, nor freshwater lakes

Summoning Prayer Example

“Joyful Kalii’mari, Prince of Squid.

Whose laughter and happiness echoes through the depths,

We give to you our devotion.

We show to you our respect for your kind.

Oh Kalii’mari, honourable friend to all, grace us with good fortune.”

Offering Examples

Coral, Seashells, Seaweed, Woven Bracelets, Ribbons

Corporeal Form

• In regards to encounters, it would be unheard of for Kalii’mari to provide any form of dangerous/harmful encounter.
• In regards to Druidic Transcendence encounters, it would be unheard of for Kalii’mari to bring any danger/harm to the Druid in question - instead seeking to provide safe passage back to the Mortal Realm

Blessings / Boons

• In regards to The Call of Nature, it would be unheard of for a squid of any size to fight alongside the party, as Kalii’mari’s kin are not known to be harmful unless in self-defence

Current Location

Despite being the Mani Prince of laughter and companionship's, Kalii’mari remains true to the reclusive nature of the Mani as a whole. Preferring to instead watch over and observe his followers from afar, the Mani will only step forth to interact when he deems guidance is truly necessary to bring someone back onto a more balanced path.

As all Mani are, the Squid Prince resides within the Eternal Forest until he is drawn forth for any worthy reason.

Lore Purpose

As previously stated, in comparison to the other currently existing Mani, Kalii’mari serves as almost an opposite to the more serious Mani residing over protection, survival, hunting, and so forth. Instead, he serves as a provider for more flavorful roleplay - bringing the chance for more entertaining events to occur revolving around festivities / dances, etc.

He also provides a flip side to prayers and worship - providing people with the ability to conduct roleplay prior to an event for good fortune with the planning and conducting of an event, along with providing the chance for character development through reconciling with any foes during the ritual of worship. Overall, his purpose remains mostly cultural, but grants the community a friendlier and more entertaining Mani to interact with.

References

Malikki, Prince of Apes

Image by Vance Kovacs.

     “The winds howl in anger. The heavens weep for the fallen. For fourteen Moons this temple has been my only sanctuary, yet how long until they too flood? How long until we are all lost!? When mothers and fathers butcher sons and daughters! Without a means to enter or leave the capital, our rations will run out! What then? Never in my lifetime did I think to question the Divine King, but I fear for my peers. If we all surrender to the jungle, not another soul will suffer.”

-Final accounts of a Fei-Zhu scholar

     It was in ages past that the Daemon of Time claimed a single monkey in the Jungles of Asul as her pawn, bestowing sentience on par with that of a Descendent. Under the name Hou-Shen, the Monkey King, he would erect the first and greatest empire of the Hou-zi. Imparting the gifts of their Goddess between every simian that swang from the trees...at the costs of favor with their former Wild Gods. Yet the tolls of this afront would reach a tipping point when the Prince of Apes, Malikki, gave an ultimatum. So it was that an event recollected by only the eldest Hou-zi historians came to be known: The Siege of Jing-Taiyun.

     Shortly after the construction of Jing-Taiyun, bodiless voices filled the ears of its citizens. “Discard your rags. Abandon these dens of stone which pervert the land. Embrace your nature or suffer the consequences.” An instinctual uprising resonated through peasant and noble alike, all save for Hou-Shen. He stood from his throne and declared that he would sooner die than live the life of a savage beast, forbidding his citizens from forsaking their sacred kingdom. Initially, life resumed as normal for the fledgling state and complacency returned to its denizens. But when the calm before the storm gave way, Malikki’s wrath was a typhoon. For a harrowing twenty-nine days and twenty-nine nights the clouds never parted. The rains flooded the streets while entire buildings were swallowed down into the earth. Those that ventured into the jungle were never seen again, and many others were driven feral, none more so than the Hei-Zhu. As the jungle reclaimed the city’s outskirts, the howling of apes grew louder as the hopes of the populace only diminished. Yet on the 30th night, when the full-moon managed to breach the clouds, fate let Hou-Shen fell Malikki then and there. Abruptly bringing the siege to an end.

     The Arboreal Giant is known in numerous Hou-zi fables as a most controversial figure. Followers of Shenjiao, the faith of Hou-Shen, portray him as a vindictive demon. An embodiment of a primitive past that condemns the rigors their people have endured. Over time, this notion would be contested by those who revere the Mani as an Ancient God. A guardian who shaped their first ancestor from the mud, twigs, and moss of their native jungles. Today these people remain in hiding, eagerly praying for his day of rebirth so that all worldly strife wrought by the Doombringer might be undone.

     As Chieftain of the Great Apes, Malikki resembles an orangutan of tremendous stature with a wildly unkempt coat of hair. Prone to hide his shrewd and authoritative nature beneath a convincingly easygoing guise, do not mistake his empathy for weakness. Jeopardizing the Mani’s troop is to surely incite the definition of guerrilla warfare, where his aptitude to lead and strategize reign prominently. The Gigantopithecus is prone to using fallen trees as an instrument to bludgeon his opponents, whereas those worthy of his favor are gifted a branch bestowed with his blessing. When the demigod fell, it was from one such tree that Hou-Shen fit his famed polearm “Yuan-Dāo,” or the Moon Blade. Forging its blade from the purest moonlight with a glow that never dims.

Ceruvil, Prince of Bovines

Source found here.

     “Claims attest to tremors occurring throughout the day. The cowhands had become increasingly agitated over the weeks and were thought to be mistreating the cattle. Later that evening, witnesses saw a dust storm on the horizon. Several of them swear it had piercing red eyes, calling it an apparition of devils. Devil or not, after it crossed paths with the ranch, not a picket was left standing. Every worker lay dead with the animals nowhere to be found.”

-One of many ranch tragedy reports across the continent of Aeldin

     Descendentkind has forgotten when the first farmers corralled those of Ceruvil. Whether cattle were first domesticated for milk, meat, labor or otherwise. Save for the Prince of Bovines, who to this day is said to resent mortals for robbing his kin of their right to roam. For generations in wake of his vengeance, calamity has followed. A force of nature that has brought civilizations throughout the ages to their knees, typically in times of tyranny and strife.

     The Chieftain of Bulls goes by many names across numerous cultures, having amassed a broad influence. Historically he has been worshipped in ritual and emblazoned on a coat of arms. Holymen have attributed his wrath to that of GOD, orcish warlords would invoke his name unto foes, nomadic elven tribes have even perceived him as a harbinger of the end times. The peoples of entire clans have lived and died believing that he and his harem will ferry them across the stars and into the realm of the afterlife. For the only parallel between these societies is their unified fear of his notorious stampedes.

     Despite bringing dread and distress to most visited by the Champion of Horns, there exist pastoralists worthy of his respect. Rarer still are those handpicked by the Wild God to oversee one of his sons, born to someday lead a herd of their own. These chosen few dedicate their lives to the well being of the herd, often becoming druids in their own right. Other followers of the Aspects will often pay him homage during times of tyranny or enslavement. Given a penchant for bringing oppressive peoples to heel, it is perhaps this coincidence that has earned the Mani's title: Patron of Freedom.

Lesser Mani

Silissa, Princess of Bees

Image by VladBacescu.

     “If this message is ever found, know that my name is Josef Walter. Our ship ran aground during a roaring storm, and now we're stranded on the coast of an uncharted landmass. Aside from several abandoned shipwreck sites, our chances of finding other people look bleak. Just pristine forests and meadows as far as the eye can see. Some of the crew swear they saw a massive beehive beyond the western ridge, so we plan to pack up and investigate in the morning. If we’re lucky we’ll find others stuck on this rock. Please, should I never make it back home, tell Helena Walter that her boy always loved her.”

-A message in a bottle, but one of many under almost identical circumstances

     The Queen of the Hive fervently toils to ensure the longevity of her brood, deep inside a hidden labyrinth of honeycombs known only as the Buzzing Citadel. It’s within the safety of her domain that she holds total dominion over her children. Being able to amass swarms of bees throughout the known realm, very few descendants are ever inclined to make an enemy of the Matriarch. Superstitious individuals believe that all queens are subject to her blessing, while other theories speculate she only shows kindness to those capable of leading. Some rural communities still celebrate her during the early spring, donning bright flowers and dancing jovially through the streets.

     History recalls that attempts to tame and yield the profits of Silissa’s brood always ended in failure and agonizing death. A perpetual cycle that would continue to persist until two travelers chose to make a change. One was a young druid of Old Malinor, the other a traveling Farfolk gypsy. Equipped with quick-wits and moxie to match, they would manage to locate the Buzzing Citadel and approach the Queen with a proposition. A proposal of their lives for the chance to quell her rage, which was as infamously relentless as it was iconic. Yet, disregarding ample chances to murder the two outright, the curious Mani allowed them to try under strict terms. Ready to slaughter both at the first signs of foul play. Thus in a ceremony of precision and dexterous movements, they danced before her, employing beautiful flowers from places unknown. Lasting from dawn ‘til dusk, they performed, chanted, and lit incense that soothed every one of the hive’s denizens. For the first time since the Hivemind had taken her mantle, she felt inner peace. A feat that would earn both travelers her royal highnesses favor. When asked for the gift to harvest honey, she would in-turn ask for the company of the elf in exchange. So it was that the druid would dance every day up to his last, while the gypsy went on to pass the knowledge of beekeeping to generation after generation of descendants. All the while, victims to their furious swarms would dwindle to the negligent, brash, and gravely unfortunate. Although the gypsy is widely believed to have lived a prosperous life, some think the druid still dances somewhere within the depths of the citadel. Sworn to do so eternally lest the vows are undone.

     Plenty of explorers have searched for the Matron’s fabled hive only to return bitter and despondent. Easily enticed by rumors of a royal jelly that can cure all sickness, locating the Buzzing Citadel has been the bane of countless adventurers over the centuries, despite itself being larger than entire cities. Since becoming Matriarch, Silissa’s growth has been a constant that requires continual expansion throughout her immeasurable domain. Workers in the hundreds of thousands must tirelessly tend to the necessities of their ever-growing broodmother, while even more search for sources of nectar. This provides a perpetual cycle that gets bigger with each subsequent winter.

Ray’voray, Prince of Ratites

Image by Ravenari.

“I shalt usher youth from the shadows of the nest.

I shalt help youth to forage and fend for themselves.

I shalt give youth time to grow strong.

Henceforth, I know nary greed, gluttony, nor sloth. Now and forever I serve to nurture strength and wisdom, a champion of the fathers before me. My life I pledge to the Elder’s will, upon the blood of my blood, every wife, daughter, and son.”

-Vows of Fatherhood of a forgotten Farfolk people 

     Often overshadowed by his airborne brethren, those knowledgeable of Ray’voray know him for his humble devotion. Praised as a figure of fatherhood, the lengths that the Prince of Ratites has pursued to maintain this are vast and bloody. Over time his beautiful black feathers have gone gray with age, while their ruby and sapphire streaks have all but washed away. Due to this, he is often regarded as the “Elder of the Outback.” Yet this old buzzard still stands as an ardent defender of his flock, swift to neutralize potential threats. His spite for the mortal races runs so deep that those brash enough to incur his ire could forsake all they love and even their most distant relatives. The scarred, one-eyed avian having discarded his last shreds of sympathy for their ilk long ago.

     Superstition suggests that the Elder's flock fell from grace, leading to the loss of their wings as penance. Other accounts mention a gamble during perilous times, abandoning the skies in favor of the ground. Whatever the truth might entail, the inability to fly came with evident consequences. When the earliest Descendants roamed the realm aimlessly, and farms were yet to become commonplace, many foragers targeted the larger eggs of the ratites. Emus, rheas, and cassowaries alike making for easy meals, taking out the nesting males and reaping the respective eggs. Those affected by the gluttony of people only grew over the course of time, until the Mani could bear it no longer. Yet his retribution to keep the poachers in check had come at a time too late, the damage already done. Their parental genocide meant fewer females could find mates, marking the beginning of their decline across the realm.

     Ray'voray watched the determination of poachers develop with each less nest to pilfer, much to his abhorrence. Eggs were nigh sacred to the Flightless Father, as were the obligations of every parent. Although innumerable offenders would be torn asunder by his talons, for every one that fell, another two took their place. Unless drastic measures were taken, the ratites would fall victim to the same zealous growth that had killed off so many other species. So what does the demigod do: eliminate threats before they’ve done the deed. Regardless of innocence or guilt, whether they’re just an apprentice or a distant relative, any noteworthy association would prompt the Mani to take action. Alas, this countermeasure would come to an end after a nearly fatal injury left him permanently handicapped. Forced to recuperate, he and his flock would abandon their native ranges to stave total extinction. Despite the disappearance of the Elder’s blessed born, the Moa, ratite populations would recover over the course of time. The plight of their patriarch but a byproduct of an age where people paid little heed to what they slaughtered.

Èyr, Princess of Anglerfish

Source found here.

     “I don't care what you think, nothin’ normal can describe the damn horrors I saw! The night was dark, the ocean even darker, yet out of the blue it started glowin’ like a thing possessed. Soon enough the corpses started floatin’ up, but no! Not fish, not people, feckin’ MONSTERS! All of them! Sea devils and dragons, hydra and sirens; other things with teeth linin’ their tentacles, jellies with a bulgin’ eye, giant snakes tha’ were all mouth and no face. Swear the sea must’ve gotten drunk and puked the lot out- uck. Then the ones still alive started to shriek and flail. The water churnin’ with their entrails and various limbs, rage and hatred boilin’ ‘em waves like somethin’ outta hell. They went for me! ME- and my vessel before I knew it! They was gonna tip the boat and take me with ‘em for feck sake. So I threw the fish overboard, I beat ‘ere tendrils back, I fell ta my knees screamin’ and pleading for it ta stahp... Then everythin’ goes quiet. I look over the bulkhead and the brine is still red and rank with death...but calm. Empty. A shadow underwater shrinking away with the last bits o’ light.”

-Recounting of a Terrified Fisherman, inspiring countless high sea stories thereafter

     Far below the ocean waves in a domain starved of sunlight, an unassuming glow prowls the abyss. Creatures who’ve laid eyes upon it fall under her spell, becoming sustenance to be devoured by rows of jagged teeth. While whispers on land tell of the Maiden of Maws guiding seafarers through their darkest hour, the reality is that anyone remotely capable of encountering her wouldn’t live to tell of it. Whereas most Mani are known to be reclusive, the Jewel of the Deep Sea isn’t known to interact with any of the surface races. While sources do exist among the odd haggard seaman, it’s a given that knowledge about her is all but abysmal. Just as the Matron of Anglerfish prefers to lurk in the dark, so too is she content to remain invisible to any and all mortals.

     As a chosen of the Aspect of Culling, Èyr makes it her mission to eradicate the wretched sea monsters that threaten to overrun her domain. No nemesis does the Mani loath more than the Old God of the Sea, Dresdrasil, the progenitor of all manner of alien leviathans. Being keenly aware that direct confrontation with the former Daemon of Abundance would be her undoing, however, has instead opted to keep the numbers of her spawn in check. This thirst for blood causing her to cross paths with those directly descended from the daemon, such as Kavous the Warlord and Thetis the Siren Princess. Ongoing to this day, the forces of culling and abundance clash without a reasonable means to an end.

     Cold like the abyssal trenches and equipped with a voice as cutting as her teeth, the Wild God remains apathetic to matters not concerning her fold. It comes to no surprise that this incessant conflict has left her with many grievous wounds and little time to recover them. For that reason, male anglers always standby to merge over their matron’s injuries through a method of parabiosis, latching on by the teeth in order to supplant lost fluids or the organs required for bodily function. Truly a grotesque parasitic dress that keeps her appetite in high demand, eager to slaughter prey and consume them even sooner. Know her name is an ill-omen to hear, and an even worse one to find yourself begging for mercy.

Kadal, The Prince of Lizards

Image by Akiman.

     ”At dawn, the men depart to face the Tyrant of Scales at the forest’s heart. Those that return will return as warriors, ready for every danger this land has to offer. The Elders of Cannavin tell nothing of his origin, only that his supremacy was chosen at the hour of Reckoning. For every beast beneath these great boughs recognize his rule, as do the Lesser Lords allow their liege to prowl unopposed. Most would flee in terror at first glimpse of the tyrant, however, that is not our way. That is not the way of Kadal, nor the seeds of Orrarante. It is our sworn duty to honor our Lost Lord. -Oracle Adria, 1^st of The Deep Cold, 1589”

-Translated Texts of an Elven City, located in the Great Library of The Haven Islands

     Kadal, a name once indicative to numerous nomadic Mali’ame seeds, has all but vanished completely. The Prince of Lizards was once venerated for his faultless resolve to overcome any challenge. Few remain today that still remember their esteemed patron of tenacity, let alone his countless tales of triumph. He who had faced hordes of war, who butchered rampaging titans and repelled the tides of calamity that once endangered his kind. Others reputed him as a herald of death, indeed a most befitting title for those who warrant his ire. Yet Kadal also demonstrated an affinity for his followers. The Lord of Scales, much to the disparity of most Wild Gods, not minding the company of Descendents proven of their own worth.

     During ancient times, the demigod led his kindred cold-bloods across the realm to settle where the Sun shined brightest. Navigating the dangers of entire jungles, canyons, savannas, deserts, and even the wide open ocean. Each time a few of his kind would remain in their newfound surroundings, and each time the Prince would impart skills necessary to survive, all before leaving them to their fate. Those that were strong and resourceful would live on to bear future generations, gradually evolving both physically and functionally. Many becoming integral to their existing domains, while others still forged for lands to claim. And so the Mani watched from afar with tinges of pride, satisfied that one among them would someday rival his own success. However, weathering eras of conflict and contemplation, at last, gave way to a revelation: his kin would never stand at the top. How could he have been so foolish? Those under the Greater Mani had always overshadowed his fold as intended, either outcompeting or hunting them instead. What point did his prowess serve if it couldn’t usher the same for his scaled children? Thereafter, the Lord of Scales withdrew himself from nigh all realmly affair, and slowly he was forgotten amidst the sands of time.

     None have known of Kadal’s fate for hundreds of years. Druids eager to invoke his presence fall on deaf ears, while other Mani answer with abstruse riddles. Efforts to locate the Wild God have proven fruitless, known by neither lizard nor inhabitant of the Fae. Rumors about the Lost Lord remain dubious at best, ranging from claims that he was stripped of influence to being captured by a malevolent force. The only legacy of Kadal that remains is, in fact, his fervent teachings. Upheld by his former disciples and taught to the generations that followed them. To this day those Mali’ame devote themselves to becoming masters of their domain while surpassing weakness at all cost. Knowing full well that they’ll have the opportunity to appease their absent patron when the time comes.

Special thanks to everyone who helped give critique!

Kholibrii - The Hummingbird

“She is the spirit glowing through the darkness, bringing brilliance and color to the gloom.”

The Mani of Hope and Vibrancy

Kholibrii, if spotted, would stand out with immense beauty and color, grace and vibrancy highlighting her each and every action. A rare sight to mortals, she is mostly spotted in the most abundant of flower fields, highly attracted to the various colors and surplus of nectar. Speeding past towns quickly, like all hummingbirds, she appears to be just a blur. The blur of Kholibrii is spoken to be the brightest of all, often mistaken for a pixie, glowing as she speeds past the descendants. Her symbolism of hope begins with her very physical being, the most colorful and vibrant glowing force visible amongst the dark and gloomy mood of the night and winter.

Compared to the other Mani, Kholibrii is one of the more frequently seen, however, she does not usually interact with the descendants, and if encountered, she’d peacefully carry on with her duties. Witnesses tell about her vibrant and beautiful display of dances and color, staying peaceful unless provoked. She has a free spirit, roaming through the earth to find better land, bigger fields, and brighter colors to lead her kind to, even taking pleasure in experiencing the delightful brilliance of nature even though she is one of the brightest, herself.

An interesting ideal of Kholibrii’s is hope, her spirit bringing forth joy and a positive outlook. She brings hope to the natural world itself by helping to bring forth spring every year, bringing both color and vibrancy, as well as helping flowers and blossoms to pollinate. She leads her tribe of hummingbirds to assist her in this duty.

She holds nature’s greatest hope through the winter for spring to follow, inspiring her to have hope in every walk of life, and encouraging those around her to keep a positive outlook on the future. She does not hold onto past mistakes, worries, or fears - but instead pushes through, faithful that she will persevere and that there will be a more positive outcome.

While her heart is filled with joy and goodness, no mistake should be made - Kholibrii reflects the nature of hummingbirds, fast-paced and territorial: she will be quick to fly to action to protect those of her kind and the beauty of nature. She has a high-energy being and will show aggression to those who threaten her and her domain. Witnesses note that once enough of her treasured flowers and her kind were slaughtered, she quickly moved to defend her territory.

There have been whispers among men that those who plant plentiful amounts of flowers and sugar-water for her kind to drink from, admiring the beauty of hummingbirds from a distance, would be blessed by Kholibrii. Descendants claim that doing this has resulted in heavier pollination, as well as the blooming of breathtakingly beautiful flowers; a symbol of her gratitude.

She is the patron of dancers and painters; florists and tiva-weavers; stylists and singers. She holds in significant value: the creative-minded folk marked with talent, whose works are inspired by her beauty and vibrancy.

Offerings: Gerbera, Bird of Paradise and Calla Lily flowers, flowers abundant in nectar, opals, colorful paintings, and creative pieces.

Condensed Lore

To Sonnos, Prince of Foxes

Sonnos, being a master strategist, personifies cunning. Those seeking cleverness and agile thinking should pray to him.

Common:

“Vulpine Prince

Whose cunning rules the forest,

We give to you our devotion.

We show to you our respect for your kind.

Oh Sonnos, the clever, show us your blessing.”

Elven:

“Ellaurir’Vulnan,
Heya'leh orvull vulmaehr'ehya y'elame sohaera,
Kaean’leh ortilrun nae illerae.
Kaean’leh Sirame ay’nae’leh lye myumierae.
Oh Sonnos, vul'oem, nae’leh ahern kaean illera.”

Credit to Nivndil for the Elven translation! @Aethling

Sonnos - Prince of Foxes

Where the Prince of Ravens is a trickster, Sonnos is the patron of calculated thinking and strategy. He is cunning, and often worshipped by trackers, politicians, and merchants-- all who benefit from his boon of quick thinking. With foxes inhabiting the woodland regions where many elves call home, it is often considered a sign of good luck to see the tail of a fox disappear into the brush. Many believe that to follow a departing fox is to follow the path to treasure.

Ethereal Form

Extended Lore

Whistling, like an expelled breath of air through teeth, rent an otherwise silent meadow. The arrow struck true, flying from yew bow to embed itself neatly in the flank of a stag. Not a killing shot. Findaas cursed. Amaethon was not with him, the mali’ame thought as he watched the injured, though still nimble deer take off through the Loftywoods. It was disheartening to be of a race famed for use of the bow, only to miss an easy shot on an already unsuccessful hunting trip.

Findaas leapt over algae-slick stepping stones, picking his way across a rushing stream. Between that stream and the glittering jewel of Elvenesse lay miles of forest, rich with game and plants to feed Caras Eldar, as well as provide plentiful trade. His deer had run off, but there would be others. Boar, caribou, rabbits… as well as wolves and other creatures that Findaas would be wise to avoid. Night was falling swiftly above the canopy. Dusk light streamed through the leaves; a mottled pink that cast the trees around him in shades of rose and plum. His camp was not far off, nestled as it was in a shallow valley carved by a meandering stream that ended all the way at the northern sea. Findaas would eat the salted boar meat hunted three days past, before setting out at dawn to try his hand at felling a much larger prize.

Crack. A twig snapped to his right. Findaas froze. Swiveling slowly on the balls of his feet, Findaas silently drew an arrow fletched in green feathers from the quiver peeking over his right shoulder. When a blur of brown shot from the undergrowth, the arrow was loosed with a blind, instinctive precision. The hare died instantly. While a part of the mali’ame was cursing at his own cowardice, a more significant imagery of hot stew boiling over an open flame served to dispel the adrenaline that was still pulsing through his veins. He said a quick prayer and pressed onwards.

Slung over his shoulder, the hare weighed next to nothing. There would be none left over for a scant breakfast in the morning, Findaas knew. But when another sharp sound cleaved through the quiet dimness of the woods, a spark of hope ignited in his chest. Another hare, perhaps? Expecting a streak of brown or black, Findaas was surprised to see a triangular face of russet and white peering out at him from between the wild brambles. Succulent blackberries clung to the branches, limned with silver by the moonlight that now cast the forest in grayscale. When Findaas crept forwards, still the fox did not shift. It was only when he came within a hand’s breadth that the creature turned tail and disappeared into the roots of a sprawling shrub, with the mali’ame shooting after it as quick as an arrow.

A fireside tale returned to him, of his father telling a group of wide eyed children that a fox always leads to some woodland wonder. He certainly hoped it was true, at least as a compensation for the low swooping branches that were casting stinging whips across his face. Some had even broken skin-- he could feel the blood welling up and spilling in rivulets down his cheeks. At last, the endless forest broke into a small clearing. Night dark as it was, Findaas had difficulty making out the shapeless mass that dominated the centre of the space. The fox was nowhere to be seen, but as Findaas crept forwards… he realised that another had appeared-- though this time, the vulpine depiction was made entirely out of stone. Moss coated the granite structure, which rose to hip height on the relatively small mali’ame. It was slightly larger than life size, though the statue’s eyes seemed to follow him as he crossed the clearing towards it. There was a mischievous air about him, (Findaas found the statue distinctly masculine, though he couldn’t place why), which the young elf found strange. He was not afraid of the forest after nightfall, but it certainly took on a creepy disposition once the sun had dipped below the horizon and the fireflies came out to play. This stone figure allayed those fears, and as Findaas came to crouch before it, he realised why.

An offering table was laden with bones, strips of silk, and delicate glass bottles containing all manner of perfumes and herbal concoctions. The granite fox almost seemed to smile as Findaas gazed up him, though the triangular face was unmoving. Sonnos, Prince of Foxes, a whispered voice supplied, though there was no one else in the clearing. Findaas’ subconscious must have supplied the mani’s name. Like most young mali’ame, despite not being a part of a Seed, Findaas had been raised on tales of the mani and their deeds. The fear, respect, and love of the Aspects had been instilled in him from a young age, until the beings took on a life of their own. Even if Findaas had never seen a mani, and didn’t know if they truly existed… there were always stories. Terrible and awesome stories, that had kept him awake long into the night from fear or excitement.

Taking the hare from over his shoulder, the mali’ame laid it on the altar and ran his hunting blade down the centre of its belly with a practiced precision. Cooling blood spilled over his hands and stained the altar red, while the scent of blossoms and earth became permeated with the smell of the hunt. Sweat, blood, death. Sitting back on his haunches, Findaas placed his blood-slick hands on his knees and began to pray.

“Vulpine Prince

Whose cunning rules the forest,

We give to you our devotion.

We show to you our respect for your kind.

Oh Sonnos, the clever, show us your blessing.”

When several minutes passed and nothing had happened, he cracked open an eye. The forest was still-- not a rustle in the branches nor hoot of an owl to be heard. Even though Findaas had not truly expected anything from an isolated shrine, especially considering he was not a druid, a sharp pang of disappointment cut through him all the same. Somewhat dejected, the elven hunter left his latest kill on the offering table and began trudging back to camp. In his wake, and unbeknownst to him, half a dozen foxes crept from the surrounding trees to gorge themselves on the hare.

Dawn broke clear and bright the next day. Findaas inhaled deeply, and found that he could smell the dew outside, and the lingering scent of roasted boar from days ago. Thinking nothing of it, he rolled from beneath the furs he had been sleeping in and emerged into the crisp morning air. He cricked his neck from side to side, rolling the discomfort from his shoulders as he paced towards the bow that was rested against the gnarled trunk of a towering oak; one last day of hunting before he returned to the bustling streets of Caras Eldar. When the quiver was slung securely across his back, the mali’ame set off down a familiar path that wended its way between tree trunks mottled with lichen. The forest retained its wonted stillness, with not a breath of wind to stir even the highest reaching leaves. If the wind had been gusting, Findaas may not have been so quick to notice a snapped branch upon the woodland floor. While he was an adept hunter, sometimes the smaller tells of an animal’s progress through the trees went unnoticed by the young mali’ame.

He followed the trail, silently cheering for his hawk sharp eyes. Bent over a softly babbling stream, a magnificent stag had paused to drink-- its broadside was exposed to Findaas where he crouched behind low lying ferns. Quickly assessing his position, and the angle of the being across from him, the hunter drew an arrow, took a deep breath in, and loosed a killing shot on the exhale. It pierced clean through the beast’s side, rupturing vital organs and sending it toppling to the loamy floor with a muffled thump. He would gut it then carry the stag whole, Findaas said to himself, and carve it up upon arriving back in the city.

Padding over to the felled creature, his breath caught in his throat. For there, embedded into the deer’s flank, was half an arrow shaft. The rest had been snapped off, likely during the stag’s flight through the woods, but there was no doubt about it-- it was the very same creature from the day before. Findaas sent a prayer to Amaethon over its corpse, before swiftly relieving it of its innards and hoisting the carcass over his shoulders. He headed north at a steady jog, unaware of the vulpine eyes that watched his retreat.

Miles away, the statue of Sonnos smirked.

Mani: Demi-Gods of the Wilds Clarifications

Those appointed by the Aspects are rarely witnessed interacting with those of the Four Brothers, to an even lesser extent since days of olde when the first Druii’ served dutifully at their side. However, whether through peaceful guidance or abrasive punishment, these Princes of the Wild have never remained totally isolated from mortals. Some exceed recognition comparatively to others, due in part to either the species they’re sworn to preserve proving greatly influential, or the power they possess raising them even amongst their fellow Mani. Regardless, it remains without question that to invoke the attention of these demigods is a feat in of itself, good or bad.

The Mani at large are recluse beings that won’t appear to mortals without a convincing incentive. This quest of discovery proven to be a puzzle in its own right, for the Aspect’s Chosen are by no means akin to Descendent-kind. They are their own animal - literally speaking. Demigods. There are those revered as benevolent and wise, others rumored to be cold and ferocious. Yet the sole absolute among each of them lies in their loyalties as patrons to respective species. Thus, persuading a Mani to present itself oft varies drastically in approach.

Ritual of Summoning

Seeking an audience with such divine entities of nature require a certain number of steps to take. However, there are two ways for Mani to display itself upon the Mortal Realm.

Ethereal Form

 The Mani takes on a spirit-like appearance that is able to project itself from an object to anchor itself there for a time, though its powers are far less than what it would be in its Corporeal Form. In this state, it is unable to be attacked as anything attempted would phase right through the Mani. Magical items or abilities that can make contact with ghosts and other spirits can inflict harm to the Mani and it would dissipate yet not kill it. Despite its powers diminished somewhat in this form, it can however summon its species to fight for it or cause some effects upon one’s mind. An example could be the Snake Mani coiling around a victim, making the victim feel as if it's suffocating to death when in reality, the victim is fine. Visions and Illusions are part of the Mani’s abilities as well in this form to give wisdom, fear, insight, and/or wrath depending on the encounter. 

Ethereal Form Summoning
For one to summon such a Patron in their ethereal form, a certain number of steps must be taken to do so. The first of course is having a location set out that matches where said Mani would normally linger or reside within. This is key as the next step requires a focal point for the Mani to use or draw its attention to venture there. This can be a shrine, statue of its likeness, idol, carved out totem, and so on as long as it is, in the end, showing the image of the Mani in question. Next is to provide an offering; this is where it truly varies and can be quite dangerous to do. The offerings depend on the Mani in question. Herbs, corpses of that species of animal, prey that animal hunts, flowers, claws, teeth, various fruits, veggies, vial of poisons, silk, and/or so on are many examples one can place an offering for a specific Mani. Danger comes swiftly, however, to the ones that don’t understand that Mani at all. For the wrong offerings can invoke the wrath of such a being and can quickly turn against the summoners.

 The next part comes in both blessing and prayer. The blessing is invoked using druidic energies with the power of Blight Healing to flow into the focal point, creating a beacon of sorts that is able to echo across the area and beyond to the Fae Realm of that area. The prayer is, by definition, the praising of the Mani in question; the asking for guidance, help, wisdom, revenge, aid, whatever the summoner wishes to do. Keep in mind however that this doesn’t always work as the beacon doesn’t emit across the realm or all of the Fae Realm. It is far better to be in a location where one believes the Mani in question is hidden to perform such an ability. This of course can also draw the attention of others for Mani Spirits are not the only ones that can sense the focal point. Fae Creatures, animals, flora, other druids, and all the dangers that could happen in the wilds can also feel that beacon as well and attempt to find the location. 

Examples of Prayers

“Protective Bolomormaa, Princess of Bears.

Whose strength and ferocity guards the young and weak,

We give to you our devotion.

We show to you our respect for your kind.

Oh Bolomormaa, gentle yet mighty, show us your blessing.”

--------------------------------------

“Great Prince of Mighty Elk,

Whose flock run abound the deep woods and great plains,

We give to you our devotion.

We show to you our respect for your kind.

Oh wise and gentle Amaethon, show us your blessing.”

--------------------------------------

“Lord of Scavengers and Guardian of Death hear my plea,

For we stand before you now at the brink of death and despair,

I seek a grace of your presence and a deal to be made.

So that my enemies may be given judgment.”

Redlines

-Summoning a Mani in its Ethereal Form requires offerings  presented in a ritual. What offerings are presented can affect the encounter.

-A shrine, statue, idol, or something of the Mani’s likeness must be present.

-The beacon’s effects are maxed within the region the ritual is performed to find the desired Mani. The region must make sense for the Mani that is attempted to be summoned to appear. Aka, one will not find the Dolphin Mani in a tundra region. 

-A druid must be present and invoke Blight Healing to fuse into the object and form a beacon. Prayer about said Mani is required as well for the Mani to take notice. 

-Requires LT approval for an attempted summoned encounter in Ethereal Form. ET/LT required to play said Mani.

-These rituals differ in required materials, prayers, and aren't a guaranteed success. A Mani can easily ignore it should they choose. A roll out of 100 is required once the summoning is attempted. 75 or higher is success. 50-75 roll, the Mani will appear, but may attack or lose interest. 50 or lower results in the failure of a Mani showing up, but instead a dangerous encounter invoked. The encounter dependent on the ET/LT. 

-Only one roll is done and its by the ET/LT hosting the event.

-Attempts to summon a specific Mani are once every irl month with the max of five different Mani attempted total overall to be summoned. This includes failed attempts. Example: Attempt of summoning Wolf Mani is done. Cannot summon Wolf Mani for a month. Four slots left for other Mani for said month.

-If a loophole is seen, LT approval must be sought otherwise the answer is no.

Corporeal Form

 Unlike the Ethereal Form, the Corporeal Form is the Mani’s actual physical presence in the Mortal Realm. It’s powers are fully unlocked and hold sway to all of nature around it. These encounters are indeed quite a rare sight to behold as most Mani do not show themselves so freely as it is both a strength and a weakness. In Corporeal Form, the Mani spirits can be killed. As their forms die, their spirits will go to the Eternal Forest to rest until its physical form is reborn once again, a process that will take awhile to occur. Corruption is another weakness the Mani have while in their Corporeal Form. Even with Greater Mani, their physical bodies are more prone to the acts of darker magics, taint, and corruption. However, the Greater Mani have far more resilience to the sway of mortal kind, unlike their Lesser counterparts.

Sighting and Rebirth
Corporeal Form is something that isn’t possible to be summoned by any mortal. The act of finding a Mani in such a form only occurs with special encounters throughout the world. Some can choose to be friendly, some can be dangerous, others are an off chance encounter as it makes its way by. There are a number of possibilities for such to occur, but in the end, this is its most powerful yet weakest form to be in. 

Should the Mani be killed in Corporeal Form, the spirit will travel to the Eternal Forest where its state is very weak and rests there to be recovered once again; it should be noted that the Spirit of the Mani is at its most vulnerable when it starts to depart its body. It can be captured  before it can travel to the Eternal Forest and held within a powerful container to be used for vile means. The container, or those that try to kill  it, will find that the Mani Spirit cannot be destroyed by any means.  Should the Spirit of the Mani make it to the Eternal Forest, it will remain there for a long time while it recovers enough for its body to be reborn in the Mortal Realm. Those druids using Druidic Transcendence may encounter the Mani; however, the encounter will be very dangerous. Their irl hour timeframe cut in half to a mere thirty minutes and an extra pk clause is set upon the druid in question. Should they die to the Mani encounter within that realm, their souls are forever bound with the Eternal Forest, unable to go back to their bodies ever again. 

Once the irl month is up, a majestic sight will be done. An area in the world where the Mani is most comfortable and holding pure natural energies will start to hum to life, tts area untouched by mortal kind (yet druid influence would be fine). As the area brightens with verdant energy, a flash of emerald light would start to erupt and begin to form into the Corporeal Form of the Mani in question in the form of an infant of its species. Its memories of its previous life will have dissipated, and it will be in a weakened state for two irl weeks as it grows and returns to full power once again. 

Redlines
-Corporeal Form cannot be summoned whatsoever. These are encounters only done by world events/eventlines of ET/LT. 

-If killed in Corporeal Form, the Mani’s Spirit will go to the Eternal Forest to rest until it's reborn. The process takes one irl month before it can be reborn again with a Corporeal Form.

-Transcendence Druids can speak to the Mani Spirit in the Eternal Forest if its killed. The hour timeframe is cut to thirty minutes and an extra pk clause is issued should they die from the encounter. 

-Ethereal Form cannot be used while the Mani’s Corporeal Form has been killed.

-Rebirth takes one irl month to occur before the event on the mortal Realm begins.

-Guarding the Mani in its infant state is possible however it’s most likely to disappear once it reaches adulthood at two irl weeks. 

-Should a Mani’s Spirit form attempt to be captured, the container to house it must be LT approved to hold it. The spirit itself can never be truly destroyed yet can be trapped.

-If an attempt to corrupt or warp the Spirit of the Mani is made, see Corruption below for further details.

-If a loophole is seen, LT approval must be sought otherwise the answer is no.
 

Blessings/Boons
 

With Patrons of the Divines come boons or blessings, nature-driven abilities given by the Mani Princes to those they deem worthy. The boons they grant, reflecting upon the Blessings the Aspects, can themselves be given unto this realm for a short duration of time. Nature is always the source of these boons, whether it is to aid in growth, provide strength for a hunt, or bless the land with a cleansing aura that washes away taint. It is these blessings and boons that the Mani are praised and worshipped for, though their gifts are very rare and far between. Their grace can only be received while in their Corporeal Form, for the Ethereal Form is much too weak for them to invoke the true source of their powers. The Blessings placed on individuals varies between the different Mani. 

Upon receiving a boon, the Mani chooses when to give it. Its power will be shown when it chooses to arrive or when ones are in most dire situations. As the blessing is invoked, the image of the Mani will appear before the users, depicting the Mani that gave such a boon. However, this is risky as enemies could utilise such an occurrence to attempt to hunt down that very Mani, ensuring it could never do such again while in their grasp. As the blessing swells within the individual they will feel it for a short duration of time, though as with any blessing from the Wilds, it tends to be fickle in nature. The blessing itself can randomly vanish or simply not work if the person is doing something the Mani deems undesirable for such a gift. It is then that the blessing will disappear much sooner than expected. 
 

List of Blessings/Boons

(Only enable for events that have been specifically stated at the time the Blessing/Boon was asked.  It can be for druids only or for all druid/non-druid allies that requested the blessing/boon. This depending upon the Blessing/Boon in question)
 

Redlines

-Blessings are only given by Mani in their Corporeal Form.

-Blessings/ Boons require LT approval to be invoked.

-Blessings/Boons cannot be stacked.

-Blessings/Boons are only used during event encounters approved by said ET/LT doing said event. Communication is key to this so it's fair for both the ET/LT hosting the event and the players enacting a blessing/boon for said encounter. Once that event is over, all blessings/boons vanish immediately.

-Should a Blessing/Boon be used without its intended purpose, it immediately vanishes.

-Blessings/Boons cannot override Racial Curses.

-Once a Blessing/Boon is received by a Mani, a cooldown begins from when that event encounter, from where it was used, is over.

-If a loophole is seen, LT approval must be sought otherwise the answer is no.

Mani Corruption

Though the Wild Spirits are leagues above most beings, their bestowed sapience comes at the cost of leaving them susceptible to mortal, unnatural, and tainted corruption alike. Transgressions committed unto them and their kin gradually warp their natures until nothing but a seeping, vile plague-like beast is left in their wake. It is for this reason that Mani would only appear to those deemed worthy in their Corporeal Form; a weakness as much as a strength. When it comes to said form certain resilience is seen, depending upon the Mani in question. For those Mani that first answered the call, the Greater Mani Princes/Princesses of the realm, their power is far greater than their Lesser counterparts. The sways and corruption of mortal kind are ineffective towards them and would only invoke wrath to be unleashed upon such foes; however, unnatural sources of corruption can have a devastating effect.

 As nature cannot resist the darker magics destroying or twisting the land, so to the same for Greater Mani Spirits. A large group is needed to corrupt such a mighty beast, as this isn’t a simple task for a mere three or four. For Lesser Mani, the sways or corruption of men can seep into their hearts and warp them to follow or submit, with corruption taking root easier and twisting them into abhorrent abominations. Should a Mani be turned, they are uncontrollable at that point, even to the ones that turned them. Friend or foe doesn’t register to them, even with their own kind. If a Mani Spirit is captured/corrupted before it departs to the Eternal Forest, it can be reborn into a twisted version of itself that walks upon the land unchecked and untamed.

Though with such dark forces in the realm, there is hope to save such divines. The pure acts of Blight Healing can wash away the corruption of such a noble beast, yet it would require a great deal to fully change them. For the corruption or sway of mortals onto a Mani Spirit, the soothing effects of communion can work to ease the mind and attempt to bring it back to its senses once again. Though the last resort can be slaying the creature. A tragic loss to the realm yet not for long as its tormented spirit is finally released upon death and moves to the Eternal Forest to recover and be reborn once again. 

Redlines

-Mani can only be corrupted while in Corporeal Form, not in an Ethereal Form.

-Greater Mani Spirits cannot be corrupted or swayed by mortal means. Only unnatural magical means.

-A group of around  fifteen or more dark/voidal users using their magic is required to take on a Greater Mani to attempt to corrupt it for the encounter. 

-Lesser Mani require only around ten or more  dark/voidal  users using their magics to attempt to corrupt the Mani during the encounter.

-Once the Mani is corrupted, it is still only controlled by the ET/LT and requires LT approval for more encounters to occur. This includes approving new abilities it might gain in such a state. 

-Should a Mani’s Spirit be captured in a container and warped/twisted with vile magics, it can be reborn as a corrupted Mani. 

-If a loophole is seen, LT approval must be sought otherwise the answer is no.
 

Greater Mani Encounters
 

 Lesser Mani Encounters

Credits

Delmodan- Creator and writing of the lore as well as some of the Mani.

Guyden- For writing, creation of the Crane Mani, and aiding overall in the lore.

Leowarrior14- for the original creator of the Mani Lore, Fae Realm, and ideas/creation for some of the Mani.

Nivndil- For her writing and creation of the Bear Mani as well as my grammar nazi.

DarkSainthood- For reviewing, aiding in suggestions, and my other grammar nazi.

Shimmeringbliss- For her creation of the Panther Mani.

Sporadic- For his lovely lore on the Beaver Mani.

Druids- For their suggestions with boons/blessings.

References
 

Malleus, The Vengeful Gavel Bearer

Introduction

They were mistaken, so terribly mistaken. There were no shades of grey no ‘special circumstances’. There was right, and there was wrong. There was justice, and there was injustice. This is not what he would have wanted. They had betrayed him, left him to die. All because he had brought their transgressions to light. For not even the sun was devoid of wrong. The only purity, the only good was justice. But what was justice without retribution, without vengeance. Nothing but words. The utopian fancy of those cloaked, laden in their own hubris. All this time the master had been right, and in his purity of purpose they had found their envy, their fear. For the sinner dwells in terror of the Gavel of Justice. They had all betrayed him, those on high, and those wrought low. After all of his labours nought had been achieved, the master lay dead, cut down in the pursuit of justice in pursuit of RIGHT.  It was time to bring justice. Not just to those that had betrayed the mater, but to all that trembled at the mention of the name ‘Zecharael’. But to do so alone would be impossible, for even the master in all his glory was unable to bring about Justice to all that deserved it. Help would be needed but from whom…

History

Malleus was once a devoted servant to Zecharael, the bearer of his mighty Justice, with which he passed judgement upon those that passed through his court. It was Malleus that had knelt by his side when Zecharael was cut low by the great betrayer. In his grief he retreated to the halls of justice. Taking solace in their empty expanse, now devoid of a lord upon the court’s great throne. Yet he was a servant of justice, and there were wrongs to set right. Taking up his master’s Gavel he set out. He would have his retribution upon those that had crossed Justice. None were exempt from the laws of the gilded court.

Driven mad from grief Malleus became obsessed with the death of his master. Justice had been abandoned at the wayside, its innards splayed about the floor as its servants wept at his side. The Aenguls spoke of purity, of order but these things, these things were irrelevant to Malleus. The only truth, the only good was justice. And justice required action. Taking up the Gavel of his fallen master Malleus retreated from the wider heavens. Cloistering himself in the depths of the gilded court of Justice he brooded. How was he to achieve what his master had failed to do, more importantly how was he to secure the retribution his master deserved. He would start from below, for the Aenguls, the Daemons. They had proven their lack of worth, they were merely birds of paradise. So absorbed in their own inane glory that they were blind to Justice. Malleus would seek out servants in the mortal realms. Then he would begin his righteous crusade of retribution, of justice. The servants of the High sinners would be brought low, perhaps then the preening birds of high and low would feel a miniscule portion of the pain that had ripped at Malleus when he had watched Justice fall. Then perhaps he would turn to the higher beings, and bring to them the retribution that they so badly deserved.

Description

Malleus is a Patron of Zecharael, however despite his obsession with ‘justice’ he is far more oriented towards vengeance and retribution, as the loss of his master has pushed him to the edge of sanity. His symbol is a shining hammer, as that is the gavel of judgement used in the gilded court. However rather than being used as a tool of judgement in court it is used as a fearsome weapon of retribution. Casting down all who Malleus believes are deserving of justice, there is no compromise, no negotiation. Once judged the determination will not change, its sentence will merely be pursued and carried out in the most efficient manner.

Despite his pseudo madness Malleus realizes that he cannot stand openly against the rest of the heavens. Hence he secludes himself within the gilded court and seeks out servants to do his bidding. He hopes to damage and harm all who wronged his master so that they would feel the pain he felt. This being done with a bottom up approach wherein the cults of the Aenguls are systematically eradicated in the hopes that this would weaken the Aenguls to a degree allowing him to perhaps become capable of matching them.

Revised Malleus Lore to adhere to suggestions made

Life is about balance.

Every living being has its place in the grand tapestry of nature. All animals hold a piece, even if they know it not. At odds though they may be, predator and prey uphold the balance of nature. Without the predator, prey would multiply and graze the land until it was barren. Without prey, the predator would hunger and fight over scraps of remnant food. The flora bears fruit to feed those who wander, and those who wander propagate the seeds of those who root and prosper. Thus, even the greatest beast owes its life to the tiniest insect. All species come together in a precarious balance that upholds something greater than the sum of its parts. A grand creation, like a living, masterful painting.

Meracahe was no great hunter. His form was not splendid to behold. He did not bear a crown of antlers like the great Amaethon, nor fierce tusks like the mighty Moccus. His silhouette did not inspire the fear of a wild wolf, nor the majesty of a proud soaring eagle. Meracahe sought not to boast or bluster his glory, for he was content in the knowledge that he had a part to play. His labor was of utmost importance.

Through the work of the River Guardian and his favored kin, the beavers, would the many realms continue to prosper. For it was him who ruled the stream. It was him who made bountiful wetlands out of dusty riverbeds. It was him who dammed the powerful river, and forged the lands onto which many different species would come to settle. They would come together, predator and prey, mighty beast and tiny insect, to the land he had created. His labors often went unnoticed by the other Mani. A thankless job, but one which the Guardian accepted without hesitation. Meracahe knew this was his role in the world

This Mani was the first to notice the Elven settlers when they arrived. Their presence was frightening yet fascinating. The River Guardian recognized the ability these Elves had to affect the biomes around them. Thus, if guided properly, they might serve as keepers of the balance for aeons to come. But theirs, too, was the power to destroy everything Meracahe had worked so hard to create. If left unchecked, these Elves and their kin- Humans, Orcs and Dwarves- would unsettle the ecosystem beyond repair.

And so the River Guardian was left with a choice: Assist this fledgling tribe and help them grow, or wipe their nascent foothold from the face of the earth. For many nights, Meracahe secluded himself and pondered. The settlers foraged and hunted, but Meracahe let them be. The other animal Princes surely began to notice the new visitors as well- some perhaps even began to conjure up their own designs for these new visitors- but the beaver prince failed to act.

Until one day, a young girl wandered past his lodge. The Elfling could not have been more than 12 years old, yet there she skipped too far from her parents or her village. Her humming stirred the Beaver Prince, and so for the first time in months he emerged from his solitude, to gaze upon this young girl.

And by next sunrise, the River Guardian decided he would aid the Elves.

Meracahe showed his presence rarely, but the elves in the forests would come to know him as a force of benevolence and balance. In time many of the tribes pledged their allegiance to his cause. Ever humble and aloof, worship of the Mani never resulted in his blessings being bestowed. The strange rituals that Elves invented to please the River Guardian remained unanswered and died and quickly as they arose. Sacrifices and words of prayer attempted and discarded. Rarely ever would Meracahe come upon the mortals as he had upon that little girl by the stream, but from the rare encounters with the Beaver Prince it would eventually become clear what he wanted of his followers...

Balance.

The chosen of Meracahe

The great River Guardian holds sway over a host of diverse and versatile critters. His favored, those whose form he has chosen to embody, are the beavers. Humble and hardworking, the beaver is known as the keystone species for its environment. It stands at the very foundation of an ecosystem of countless plants, insects and animals. Where beavers choose to settle, a dam is erected across the river. Soon the lands are doused in overflowing riverwater. In the damp, fertile ground many new plant species can rise up. And with the advent of plants come the animals. And as the populations of these animals increases so does the diversity and variety of new species that one by one are attracted to this rich and bountiful area. Meracahe opens his lands to all: predator, prey, even elves and humans.

The great capybara, the largest of all living rodents, are the ones to stand guard over Meracahe’s carefully crafted world. They are gentle creatures. Their movements are slow and calm. Their stature sturdy but not terrifying to behold. Poets write no great works of their majesty and men do not tremble when they approach. But despite this, they are powerful swimmers and can bear great loads. Their wisdom and intelligence is uncanny and often underestimated due to the rodents’ appearances. Those select few whom Meracahe blessed personally had grown even larger, even more powerful. Rumors go around, although they are never confirmed, of capybara the size of horses, which offer themselves as mounts to carry a blessed few Elves in dire need.

But conversely, as is fitting of a guardian of balance, Meracahe also keeps communion with the countless colonies of rats that scurry to and fro across the lands. Persistent and tenacious, rats have the unmatched ability to live among the descendants uncaught and unfettered. The walls of mortals, erected to keep out powerful and malignant forces, fail to keep rats from scurrying between the cracks. And as they do so, consequences may be severe.

Rats are known carriers of disease. Diseases which, if circumstances permit, wipe out a species with terrifying precision and efficiency. Wherever a certain species have grown too numerous and too cramped, a disease will often rear and benefit from the proximity of viable hosts, spreading all too quickly and leaving in its wake a trail of suffering and death. This, too, is Meracahe’s way. For whether it is rabbits being torn asunder by wolves or the proud stag starving in an area grazed barren, the restoration of balance is cruel to those who have broken it. Nature is kind, giving, but it can also be heartless. Should sickness take you and your kin and you curse at the injustice of the world, try to remember: It is all for the greater good. For balance.

((TLDR: Mani Fanfiction. With Mani bound to play a slightly larger part in the affairs of men I want to balance out the pantheon with a specimen that is a bit more humble and a bit more down to earth. This one fits the profile of a hardworking spirit which seeks no personal glory or splendor but creates an environment in which others can thrive.))

“The fear of death follows from the fear of life. A mortal who lives fully is prepared to die at any time.”

Music theme: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fg0nSp71Yss

When the bell tolls, everyone’s hands and feet will stop in their tracks, swiveling their head to see the beginning or ending. Such is the power of a bell, such is the power of its chimes. The start and death of a day both walk hand in hand with the ringing of bells along the way; greeting or dismissing the sun upon its merry way. Death is not a curse, death is not a gift. Death is death, as ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Death just is.

Even though the Seven Skies each have their own guardian, but it is Sokar, who acts as the ferryman for the Arch-Aengul Aeriel, Caretaker of Souls. Sokar does not reap, she guides. Ringing her bells and chimes upon her waist, she will approach the fading life with a candle and book in hand as she leads the souls towards Judgement (Relative Center). Such is the saying of clerics, who banish by bell, by candle, by book all of those who cheat the Arch-Aengul, Aeriel. Death is inevitable. Death is inexorable. Cheating, will simply be paid in twofold when the sounds of her bells signal her approach.

Before the Arch-Aengul Aeriel, took upon the mantle of Caretaker of Souls, the dead simply wandered and were lost in the great expanse of the world, inhabiting the land with the living, never leaving. Ghosts and re-animated corpses were prevalent, until She put an end to it by imposing her will. She needed someone to help her shepherd all these lost lambs wandering the mortal plain, so she took upon a disciple, who carried no name. And so she christened her after the ancient name of a giant Falcon, Seker. 

It was she who taught mortals her tongueless speech, for the Arch-Aengul Aeriel deemed that death should be silent, dead mortals may cry no more for her mercy. The souls of the lost could not find their way to their afterlife, as they could not speak or cry out for help. But as a mute herself, she too could not tell them their way. As she flew over the land in her grey skirt, distressed over her lost lambs, she noticed a group of souls gathering at a still silver pond within a large ashen forest. The silver pond was as small as a small tree stump, but curiously, it would not move. Nothing penetrated its surface, the leaves and insects would fly around it. A ripple spread across the pond, breaking its tranquility. She glanced skywards, to find the disturbance of peace. An overhanging rock in the shape of an owl was dripping drops of silver steadily into the pool, rhythmically resonating across the forest.  

The owl was crying, spilling its silver tears into the pond, turning it into silver as well. She understood that the owl grieved for its dead children for so long, it became stone. The tears were a call for its children, to let them know that their mother missed them. And so they did, as little  souls fluttered around the silver lake. But the noise too attracted the souls of elves, dwarves and humans. It resonated throughout the Path, calling indiscriminately for all who were lost. The orcs followed Apophet to his Spirit Realm, and simply ignored the scene.

Sokar dipped three fingers into the silver pond, pulling out a large droplet of pure silver to hang upon her finger tips. To protect its form, she encased it in a slightly larger dome of silver as well, forming the first bell as she rang it for the lost souls as they followed in her wake. Sokar realized that she could convey her wishes with just the tone of the bell, and so she happily rang it forth for everyone lost on the Path. She has fashioned two more bells since, giving all three of them a name each ; Astaerel the Weeper, Kibeth the Walker, Saraneth the Binder.

As the souls departed from the Judgement, she would lead them in their next trip as they made their way to and past the Relative Center, where the souls are weighed and judged by the Arch-Aengul Aeriel herself. She herself judges no one, only to take her instructions from her Mistress, leading the souls either to the paradise of the Center, or to languish in the hellish plains of the Soul Stream, otherwise known as Ebrietæs. With the toiling of Astaerel, she guides those who have done well for the world, so that their passing is mourned by those who were touched by their good deeds. With the toiling of Kibeth, she guides those who have remained gray all their lives. Doing little good or little bad, as they make their endless journey towards the Relative Center one day. With the toilings of Saraneth, she leashed the souls of the dark, of the dread, of the abominations of evil towards Ebrietæs, to forever roam as wretched spirits.

It was said that during the fight against the onslaught of her wayward Daemon Iblees to protect the Soul Stream from his clutches, she rang the contrary bell of several sounds, Kibeth the Walker, to warn villages and towns of impending attacks, forcing them to evacuate before hordes of the dead crashed against settlements. Make no mistake, Sokar is no pacifist. In the war against Iblees, she wielded the largest bell, Astaerel the Weeper in her right hand, forcing the dead to rest in the name of her Aengul. In her left hand, she wielded deepest bell, Saraneth the Binder, against cultists that would harm others, binding them to her will.

When it was time for the divine to return to the Seven Skies, she glanced back at the mortals. Scared and unsure of their future, she presented a gift. Not to the four brothers, who fought and brought about this grief, but to all those that followed them. A musical note bound in gold, the first instrument for the descendants, celebrating their victory against all odds. She named it Bellot, the Speaker, which eventually evolved to being simply just ‘Bell’. It is why weddings, funerals, church ceremonies, war, all pay homage to Sokar as the ending of a journey with each ringing of the golden bell.

Purpose: 

I figured that there wasn't a grim reaper esque figure in LOTC yet, and saw this as a chance to promote a different version of death. Death to many characters is unknown and vague, and the concept of afterlife is merely a passing mention, whereas in reality death and its realm can span many realms, from the Greeks to Christianity. I hope to add some flavour to the deities in more common use in society, as well as being almost Aesop fabley in nature.

8/4/2017 Edits to change Sokar to patron of Aeriel, incorporating Soul Stream lore. 

SOL INVICTA, THE FALLEN TITAN

“When I was born, he bathed me in fire and ushered a solemn phrase that weaved into the fibres of my immortal essence; but that essence has since then been tinged in ebon hellfire, and his fires have faded- I have been reborn and baptised by Order.”

Sol Invicta, a once illustrious Demi-Aengul who had accomplished many-a-feat including the near extinction of the dragonkin. The authority that brought ruin, death, and decay to the unorthodox species both present and future, for her word of power ushered throughout the annals of the Athna lineage. Although, this, and more prominently renowned as being the firstborn child of Xan, Aengul of Order and Guardianship alike she adopted the raw trait of ‘ORDER’ and ever since instated the doctrine of Order without mercy. Thereby extension, she was proclaimed both a grandiose leader albeit ripe with tyranny. Disobedience was never a factor in the Order she maintained and the death of their foes was an unrelenting statement.

However, when her reign was at its peak her brotherhood was ambushed via a fleet of draconic creatures, emblazing her mother’s homeland and in retaliation Sol Invicta summoned the Guardian’s Grimoire and with its seemingly boundless power transported the remnant forces of the first draft of the Order of the Golden Lance into the Fringe, the unrelenting force of Xan’s azure power incarnate tore her asunder, and their tyrannical Lady was presumed dead at the behest of her fair Father. Wrong, they were, and she found herself between the decrepit walls of her kiln. Nought but cinder and ash beneath a forest of flaring fire.

Although her immortal essence was bound to the kiln and with its existence, ensured hers, she could not perish via any mere feat. Eventually, she found herself reforming although many-a-year late. When Iblees and Aerial alike ravaged the lands of Aegis, heralding damnation, her catalyst provided ample protection in her dire time of need- albeit it wasn't up until the amassed power brought havoc and tore the earth asunder, producing the gaping abyss we know today was when she fell.

And as she fell, so did her immortal essence, her fires faded.

Except, death is a fallacy when faced with an Immortal.

And by extension, her fires reformed.

Her kiln bound betwixt the tenebrous panels of the ever consuming Abyss, now tinged in an ebon mass to signify her fallen status; she was left to her own devices, abandoned by her Father. And it was then that she discovered the Legion to which she cradled betwixt her everloving limbs, bringing life into their decrepit husks and brought them into a newfound era to which they would stand as her vanguard. An army to her heart.

With the Legion she had developed, she pursued the concept of Order within the tenebrous realm of the Abyss, conquering a large sect of land to accompany her growing empire, consisting of her spectral-esque forces and the unorthodox alike; her prowess and capability drew in a myriad of folk to which her very own Order began its evolution. From one sect, to two, the Fallen Titan adopted the myriad of lost souls roaming the depths of the Abyss, heralding their souls past this life, to the new, where they may rejoice in the loving embrace of their forefathers and Maker alike; those that remained, equipped an onyx cloak to conceal their undying features- her numbers increased substantially into a horrific, abhorrent force.

Though it wasn't until the Titan sought the Temple of Yore, situated betwixt the annals of the tenebrous Abyss- proclaiming the temple as hers, it would mean a grandiose goal to the completion of her goal. The subjugation of the Abyss to preserve her acute sense of Order- was, when the great, skeletal beast took notice of her advancing forces. He took flight, accompanying him his Dragonflight. Both sides clashed in a myriad of skirmishes and sieges alike, demolishing one another with the full intent of Mordring protecting the historical contents of the Abyss- The Temple of the Black Sun, against Sol Invicta’s intent of demolishing it and instating one anew, kindling for her flame.

However, come the climax of their inevitable battle Mordring had deceived a sect of Sol Invicta’s gathering- and she would later come to realise the negativity of her waywardness. The ebon depths, unorthodoxly ignited via ebon hellfire spewed from the likes of Mordring and Ykella alike in their mock battle of weening down one another’s foes produced a grandiose battlefield, broken and torn, the earth split asunder with a seemingly eternal spout of azure liquid cascading from the heavens above.

Mordring set foot upon the sacred land of what once was Aegis, footsteps ripe with a melancholic crunch as his joints clanked with his advancement upon the invading force- staff raised, the pseudo-Aengul was beckoned by the lamented Lich, whose hand was forced by the Fallen Titan, so she were duly dubbed. With solemn tranquility bequeathing the decrepit homeland, a bell tolled, the key signification to Sol Invicta’s arrival as she emerged from between the onyx passage to reveal a set of wings, wrapped in an azure hue, clad in a gilded suit with chain cast from an ebon mass to signify her fallen status- albeit were the grandiose great hammer clasped betwixt her digits with the reminiscent bell atop its spine, monstrous in size- the equivalent to a grand mace. With a split of her jaws, the elder lady spoke with a tone exhuming with raw authority albeit soothing to the ears of those she commandeered as her forces. A lullaby, to settle the dumbed minds of those she cradled dear.

They took to one knee as she settled atop the earth, great hammer raised toward the unorthodox Mordring who stood stalwart before the final frontier that would be his demise- his life, his home, and that what he swore to protect were at risk- although Mordring the Gallant wasn’t without his deceit. She did, indeed, speak aloud to those present:

“Ashen Ones, thou needn’t cower behind the unorthodox Mordring, a soul once noble- once illustrious, now decrepit and warped from its former image. Kindling for the Eternal Fire, I will take it all, and thine souls shalt be baptised by mine fire of yore; rise, my children, and let us claim fuel for the fire.”

Albeit weren’t up until she’d noticed her army wouldn’t raise, forced into a catatonic state at the behest of Mordring with an object clutched betwixt his ivory digits- poised high, they were damned to deaf and silence, unable to recognise the simple notion of adhering their commander. It provided ample time for a rogue faction situated within the ranks of Sol Invicta to take their opportunity, and that they did. For the Titan found her frame hunched backwards, emphasising a curve whilst the jawbone of a deceased dragon, slaughtered by her hands and no other had found itself lodged into the spine of Ykella, and out through her frame- effectively impaled through and through.

Unable to perish by the simple notion nor live right, an ethereal ritual had begun to take place whilst the artefact clutched by Mordring shattered- enabling Ykella’s forces to arise, but they remained poised, sundered by the illiterate cries of their Lady. Mordring’s forces took their chance, and promptly massacred through the denizen of her men and women alike whilst they remained stoic, worshipping their forlorn lady; ushering their prayers to their respective undead lord.

Tortured souls brought to their inevitable demise, only to be reinstated back into their everlasting selves; rot, gore, and undeath. Mordring took his advance, producing a scathed blade which he wielded to cleave her wings in two- severing them from her frame, and the Lich promptly buried the blade betwixt her shoulder-blades in two, separate circles- prying outward, he began the notion of a meagre blood eagle, allowing the mixture of scarlet and fluorescent blood to flow free from her newfound wounds.

With newly drawn wings split wide, revealing the panels of her mangled spine, muscle, and vein alike- the abhorrent Lich splattered a rune of Gods bloods beneath her feet, binding the Demi-Aengul to the jawbone of the dragon until she perished. His last, final decree, after her forces had dwindled considerably was to retract- Ykella, crucified atop a hill overlooking the sanctuary would be punished with glowering onward toward that what she sought to conquest.

Both Mordring and Sol Invicta alike, bound to their respective positions- the custodian of the Abyss standing stalwart for fourteen days and thirteen nights whilst a murder of crows feasted upon her corpse, devouring the pallid flesh of Ykella- her screams of pure agony sundered the Abyss, bellowing across the entirety of its contents whilst strip-by-strip was cleaved free in minuscule sects, revealing an array of mangled flesh and bone beneath.

Eventually, she passed from her forced catatonic state, and back to her hearth where she would, she pressed into a state of reformation for how many ever years to come. Her once undying corpse now a riddled mess of rot and gore alike- lacking three limbs, hanging idle by a few strands of unrelenting flesh, atop the jawbone, it remained albeit lost to the primordial passage of time.

Although, now, time had passed. The remnant force of her legion, linked to the eternal fire had gathered and constructed two, ivory towers beside the first- the final frontier to their undying Lady’s heart, and there they took to one knee with their blade’s poised against the earth in their gesture of praise, ushering a silent worship. Decades would pass, then two centuries before she was permitted the right to reform; amidst fire and ash sprouted the limbs of Sol Invicta- a scorched woman, clad in ethereal steel, although. Something had changed.

The seeds of discord had been sown, a fire quenched elsewhere, and weaved into the fibres of Sol Invicta-  albeit didn’t thwart her desire for subjugation and order, it empowered her need and so... She shifted her head upright to gaze toward the Black Sun, blade drawn from the fierce fires.

"I shalt right what hath been wronged."

Redlines & Clarification

• Sol Invicta scan be killed although she cannot be permanently killed unless her kiln was both ruptured and destroyed, thereby forcing her immortal essence to locate a new catalyst able to withhold its grandiose power; it is the equivalent to a pseudo-permanent kill- she cannot be re-animated via normalistic means and by extension, may take an hour, day, month, year, or years to reform.

• Sol Invicta is the child of Xan although she adopted the raw trait of ‘Order’ which was weaved into her very fibres and is, by extension, the only concept Sol Invicta cares for in the mortal realm which she would aspire to obtain via any feat necessary.

• With Sol Invicta's  soul bound to the hearth of her now splintered kiln is viable for either corruption or cleansing at the behest of whomever; she may be moulded into an antagonistic force or a protagonistic force-- although she won’t have any excessive means against the server as a whole, this inducts flavour into the concept of being able to ‘corrupt’ or ‘cleanse’ an already Fallen Demi-Aengul instead of the usual kill.

By no means is Sol Invicta a means to bolster the Paladins ranks, she may be seen as their antagonistic or protagonistic force which is to be dictated through RP, although her doctrine implies conflict betwixt the two forces.

• Sol Invicta possesses both martial prowess and magical; albeit solely confined to Paladinism it is an exemplified feat of ‘event magic’ which enables her to perform a variety of deeds- of which can be explained through her half-immortalism.

• Ykella’s magical prowess is expansive and by extension, far more capable to manipulate the magic in its most rawest form; both old and new.

Events and interaction will span across multiple communities.