[ This vision is visible to all that encompasses an Inferi, Naztherak, Zar'akaal, Infernal Compendium Inferi ... etc]

Tremors quaked beneath your heel, ripping and tearing apart the very ground you stood atop. A distant echo of crows and rot gnawing at the back of your mind. A plague-black flock of carrions descended upon you, settling atop perches near. Their forms were laced in grease and oozing with a foul green-hued trail of plague in their path. Three eyes which bled with a blood-red hue trickled from their sockets, their gaze pressed against you; into you.

Your mind was stolen, a vision bestowed, which drew you through a tumble of scenes that ripped you through the very hells itself until you were upon your knees in a blackened room—surrounded by darkness; on your lonesome. 

Blood began to trickle from the breathing walls, and soon peaking through the shadows near you, before it took to flame; illuminating the figure which stood within the enormous halls with you.

“Stand ready, for my arrival.”

The enormous Zentherak spoke before you, its head formed from a crow’s skull and its red-hued form carried a macabre mimicry of a mere carrion—yet its presence was unmatched. A sudden ichor bled into your eyes, the blackening sun which hung low in the skies began to bleed as it slowly blackened, and you found yourself swallowed whole by its display … returned to where you once stood yet with a quest, and purpose, to see completed. A burning sensation rang throughout your upper-chest, as if a brand had been stamped upon your very chained soul, a demand bestowed by a Lieutenant of Hell.

[!] One by one, short but blunt missives begin appearing around Azuras.

Your liberators have come from overseas!

WE, the people of CONCORD, have come to FREE you from the rule of your OPPRESSORS.

We offer you now the freedom to be free from YOUR rulers, and be under OUR rule instead.

We will MARCH upon the nations of Azuras, and we will KILL all who stand in our way, in the name of FREEDOM! Resist us, and you shall be met with the same fate that your oppressors will meet. Join us, and you will be FREED as people under CONCORD!

And to the oppressors: prepare for DEFEAT. We will UNITE Azuras, and you will be DETHRONED. Accept OUR rule, and you may be spared mercy.

AVE CONCORDIA!

OOC:

Blackbirds circles around the north of Azuras in number untold. The sounds of nature that once filled with birdsong and the cry of natural life was overwhelmed by the sound of winged murders. Incessant crowing and cawing, almost like a mocking laughter upon the wind as tens to hundreds lined city walls, looking upon the denizens below with brazen finding. A cerulean blue aurora cascaded over the north from The Blistergrove, to Skjolvindr, to Rimeglen as the skies flit with lux.

The following is only available to those able to witness [Prophecy].

Your son and daughter have left the nest, venturing off unto a land foreign and far.

They write, often and frequent.

But it is now they call upon you.

And you do not answer.

-

Why is that?

Why do you not answer?

You know where they went.

You know the danger they took on.

You know what was waiting there.

And what of Him? Who will keep eyes upon He?

How do you know their letters are true, and not yet silent song?

Their cries grow more and more desperate.

And you keep your watch.

Paralyzed.

You look over the corpse of yourself, bloodied spear in hand as it impaled the encrimsoned snow at both your feet.

You felt indifferent. Looking over the horizon as cold wind blew over the snowdrifts near and far.

The land was idyllic. Quiet. And yet the incessant cawing of crows drowned out whatever piece you tried at.

Laughing at you.

Mocking you.

Watching you.

Your eyes flit down oncemore to your pale corpse, enshrined in furs in the unforgiving cold. Even now it nipped at your skin.

What exactly had you hoped to achieve?

WITH THE COMPLETION OF OUR ICONIC AND WILDLY SUCCESSFUL WARP TOUR,

WANTS TO GIVE BACK TO THE CITIZENRY!
 

ON SUN'S SMILE, THE NORTHERN GEOGRAPHICAL SOCIETY WILL BE HOSTING AN EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW OF THE BAND!

AFTERWARDS, LANDSKAR WILL ANSWER EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOUR BURNING QUESTIONS YOU'VE EVER WANTED TO ASK THE BAND!

DO NOT WEEP, DENIZEN! THIS OPPORTUNITY IS REAL!
 

Dreamy mists fold and coalesce before parting to reveal a strange scene. Overheard arcs a grand, vaulting ceiling which cascades down into pillars and vacant halls comprised of rectangular, iridescent bismuth as green and misty as jade; no doors, no windows, no furniture, no one. The alien architecture ripples as though it were melting yet it stands magnificent and tall.

Centered in this palace lays some legged serpent, a pitiful and meek thing, coiled with its eyes closed. It shifts in its sleep as what cradles it struggles to come into focus. A bizarre, dark mass coddles the little thing, something like a nest of worms undulating and slick yet it is veiled with an obscuring blur, shimmering and speckled like a dirty reflection.

The edges of the visual flicker and cloud as the scene shifts to the worm-thing’s view over the resting runt, gaze transfixed on its dull, raised scales, its long, coiled body, its sad little legs, its strange snout. A stray, segmented tentacle strokes the babe’s tiny forehead, a peace to its lulling.

The stillness breaks like glass as a hulking shadow stretches out towards the blurry entity from ahead; it looks up and the shadow twinkles like a night sky and from where the vision began looms a ghastly, beastly brute. Beneath its pale fur it abounds with thick, rippling muscles but its eyes demand attention first.

The towering creature is topped by a slack-jawed head of a boar with great, protruding ivory tusks. Worst are its eyes, dull and glazed yet fractals of starlight spill from their infinitesimal pupils and tear through the palace, waves of black starfields cutting against the emerald structure. It steps closer. Terror wells in your stomach.

The serpent falls out of view, dropped as the dark mass writhes and recoils at the creature’s approach. The vision fixates on the boar’s foul, muscular face and wrinkled skin, eyes piercing and annihilating. Abject horror steals your breath and agonizing panic numbs your thoughts as the worm-thing, your perspective, violently draws backwards.

The jade palace is cast away and fades as the tentacled entity flies backwards with smooth yet gut wrenching force and the image of the beast is quickly lost but its milky starlight stare lingers, embedded in your mind. It still sees you, into you, through you. Dread sinks in as the dreamy mists slide in and envelop your vision, cast out into a starry abyss.

You cannot forget its gaze, penetrated by its dead starlight eyes.

OOC:

[!] The following missive can be seen, posted everywhere – from big cities to small towns. How did they even get there? The handwriting is… bubbly. Very bubbly.

Hi!

My name is Julia. I just became an adult, and I think the time has finally come to begin pursuing my dream of becoming a master chef!

But… for that, I’m going to need ingredients. For my first dish, I want to make… pork loin!

What does this mean for YOU, you ask?

Well… I’m not going to use any NORMAL ingredients you can just buy at the store, obviously! So I need YOUR help in hunting a special species of boar that I heard exists only in the eastern black forests, near Caurost. 

Your reward? Getting to try Azuras’ next BIGGEST chef’s MASTERFUL pork loin before ANYONE else!

RSVP below!

Registration Form:

Dates & Locations:

YEAR TWO
THIS CAN NOT BE MISSED

Sunday April 19 At 3pm EST, 8pm GMT, 5AM AEST

WESTERN FOREST WARP X: -2360 Z: -29

GET TO SPEND SOME MINA

GET TO KNOW THE BAND 
GET TO KNOW YOURSELF

We couldn't if we tried!!

Ruby, Klink, Spyglass and Good Morrow present:

FOUR YEARS
FOUR BAND MEMBERS

FOUR CURATED PLAYLISTS

FOUR SOULSTONE WARP LOCATIONS

Every year, the next exclusive soulstone warp-adjacent location will be announced!

Each location will feature specialized merch for the member of the band

whomst has solely created the setlist for that performance!

Which band member will be featured each week? 

Show up and find out!

Each will take place on SUN'S SMILE

EACH ONE CAN NOT BE MISSED

MERCH WILL NOT REPEAT

GET TO SPEND SOME MINA

GET TO KNOW THE BAND 
GET TO KNOW YOURSELF

“ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀɢɢʀᴇꜱꜱᴇᴅ ᴀɢᴀɪɴꜱᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏɢɴᴀɴᴛ

ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴛʀᴇᴀᴄʜᴇʀᴏᴜꜱ ʙᴇʜᴀᴠɪᴏʀ

ꜱʜᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰᴏʀᴄᴇꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀᴋᴇʀꜱ

ᴅɪꜱʟᴏᴅɢᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴏᴍᴇꜱ,

ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛꜱ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄʜᴇꜱᴛꜱ.”

TO THE DENIZENS OF THE CASTLE UPON ᚱᛅᚴᚼᛅᛋ ᚴᛅᛘᛁᛚ

YOUR HERESY HAS BEEN NOTED.

BY DECREE OF THE COGNANT, FOR THE MURDER OF THE GOLIATH TAR-N0-S, WE HAVE SENTENCED YOU TO DEATH. PREPARE YOUR WALLS. STEADY YOUR GATES. TEMPER YOUR STEEL. STRENGTHEN YOUR HEARTS.

THIS IS OUR LAND TO PROTECT. OUR LAND TO SAFEGUARD.

FOR THE WALLS, WE SHALL TOPPLE THEM. FOR THE GATES, WE SHALL MELT THEM. FOR YOUR STEEL, WE SHALL REPURPOSE IT. FOR YOUR HEARTS, WE SHALL CRUSH THEM. THIS TRANSGRESSION WILL NOT GO UNANSWERED.

FOR THE GLORY OF OUR MAKERS. FOR THE GLORY OF ᚱᛅᚴᚼᛅᛋ ᚴᛅᛘᛁᛚ

PREPARE FOR YOUR DEATH, DRAGON-MEN.

Issued by the Sir Fragglesworth II

In the year of our Lord 2072

Music

Heed my call, O brave and fool hardy alike;

I bring grave tidings from the western coasts and mountainous valleys of Azuras. Two foreign powers, estranged by blood and betrayal, have converged upon our continent with steel in hand and war in their hearts. The Levanter, desert warriors from distant Ramasar, commanded by veteran Janissaries who remember the sting of treachery. Their coastal fortress, once a humble waypoint, now bristles with soldiers and siege engines. The Order of Steel, secretive artificers and alchemists who wield sigil magic unknown to our lands. Their citadel hides deep in the western valley, forges burning day and night as they prepare constructs of war.

Nearly fifty years ago, these two powers met in the blazing deserts of Aevos, delving together into ancient ruins called the Veiled Reliquary. That alliance ended in explosive betrayal, the Order turned on the Levanter for greed, and both sides bled for it. The Levanter have not forgotten. The Order has not forgiven their failure. Now they meet again on Azuras, drawn by a mineral called Velectum, purple crystals found in the Threefold Peaks that both factions will kill to claim. What power these stones hold, I cannot say, but wars are not fought over worthless rocks. 

War is inevitable, and when it comes, the Valley’s and Coasts will burn.

The Imperial Paradisian Adventurers Guild remains neutral in this conflict, we will not pick sides in this foreign feud. Both factions however seek capable hands, scouts, warriors, tacticians. They offer good pay, rare equipment, and knowledge from across the seas. 

Choose your alliance! Or choose none. Fight for the Levanter! Fight for the Order! Attempt to court favour with both sides, or none at all. 

But know this Adventurers, this is no treasure hunt, 

this is war…

To sign up, join the guild, form a party, or join a current one…

ADVENTURA EST FORIS 

THE ETERNALLY WELL ENDOWED, SIR FRAGGLESWORTH II, Guildmaster of the Pradasian Adventurers Guild

The Passage

The cradle of Purity upon Azuras lies sundered and profaned as the world is condemned by an archaic heresy made anew. A convergence of dark powers - necromantic, mystic and infernal - declared its rancorous blight to the heavens and the firmaments wept. The stolen secret of worldbreaking rent the earth, causing a ragged fissure that clawed itself deep into the banks beneath. A wound was inflicted then, primeval in provenance, a gaping trauma that hemorrhaged lifeforce in smothering plumes. With the Sun’s rays long eclipsed, a godless, eternal night swallowed the Silverwoods. No light nor divinity now reached this desecration, and the air itself shivered in sacrilege. 

Birthed from this bleeding wound, scores of wailing undead lazily shambled from the Passage’s vestiges, cloaked in tattered shadow and coursing veined blights - the Darkoath, Reikenor’s risen cult-turned-legion. Five Hexwraiths arose last, monolithic and resonant warlords who brandished blackstone armaments and gloaming, bloodshot eyes. 

Commanded then by a hailing hand, putrid peons and spiteful geists dispersed across the realm at the behest of the Darksworn’s malignant will, driven not merely to slay, but to sow, to blight, to defile.

The First Blasphemy was thus wrought, and every clamoring apostasy henceforth would be made known to the cowering divinities until they could avert their gaze no longer. 

An eye was once plucked in the name of Purity’s decree, and for this a thousand impurities shall be dealt in retribution. 

OOC: 

[!] Posters would be placed outside of various cities; fliers that had never been nailed. Almost as if they were tossed to the wind carelessly, curiously only ever found during the deepest hours of the night for wanderers and the quiet alike. [!]

TO MY ENDEARING ALLIES BENEATH THE SUN AND SKIES,

The Way Beneath has been indeed improved, per my ask. Some roughness, around the edges - I would have preferred you done some things different, others a bit more practically.

But, what I do note, is that you had paid respects to my servants.

Four of my denizens had passed; weaklings truthfully, but they were killed when we cleared out the blessed beast that haunted that cavern. I see now cairns constructed over their ashes. This is a kindness you have shown me - a humanity foreign to me. In honesty I find it a waste of time and slaughterfeed, but it is such care I find curious about sunwalkers such as yourselves. 

It is with this pact fulfilled I uphold my end of the bargain. 

Trade will begin. In soontime, we will be opening a market above as the first of our grand bazaars. A discount is provided to the host nations which offered their aide, naturally. With this too, the passage of peoples.

It is without question you may visit The Underdark at any time. Just know it is a long, treacherous journey to The Helviiryn Underdark. In return, some of my more contemptuous (or adventurous, depending on your standards) servants may come upward. Trust they are each vetted carefully - and further, they are invested with my personal mark.

Should they prove to be too difficult, know they may be removed forcibly from the surface at any given moment.

We will keep in touch,

Underqueen Felyndiira Mierillis

War feeling more like a bore lately?

Or maybe you'd like to celebrate your battle wins or drown your losses?

No matter your side, 

is here to spread a little love!

LANDSKAR will be performing in VIRU for the FESTIVAL OF FATED MEETINGS

Romance a 'No-mance'?
 

See us two months later for the 300th Anniversary Gala of the amazing Northern Geographical Society!

Special NEW merch will be for sale at both performances!
 

Still can't enter the Empire?

Sad!

Book a show, we play all gigs!

Send a letter to book and include: 
Date and time of event
Event theme or purpose

Public or Private event

Co ordinates of the event

Any song requests

We may require a merchandise table for our wears

[!] Posters would be placed outside of various cities; fliers that had never been nailed. Almost as if they were tossed to the wind carelessly, curiously only ever found during the deepest hours of the night for wanderers and the quiet alike. [!]

TO FRIENDS AND ENEMIES OF HELLVIRYN,

It took some time to find you.

You may remember me as Felyndiira Mierillis, Queen of The Helviiryn Underdark, and contractor to many of your kin.

I will be sending out my envoys in the coming weeks. It is to my finding that the cavernous ruin my people call an "Gateway" to what you call Azuras to be extremely dissatisfactory. It is too, to my finding, that you find yourselves embroiled in a war across this lavish new land. 

I seek no part in it. But I think I may know some who do.

I would like to offer a summit in the coming time. Before this miserable gate to which we can discuss terms of trade, improvement, and the free passage of peoples.

I remember contracts forged in blood. I do not so easily forget what you have done for me. I am an ally - between surface and beneath. 

Speak to my envoys. Find me then. I find you will like what I have to offer.

A Celebration Of Those We Know

[!] A letter has been sent to those Lenore has a positive relationship with

Hello my dearest friends and family. I, Lenore Fis’maa’d, have decided to host an event to celebrate the love and support that you have given me, and I have given you. In days of pain and suffering, discontent and disrespect, we all need a small light to bring a smile to our faces, no? As such, I wish to hold an event of good and joy.

Although we all have our quarrels and dislikes, I'd ask that we all act civil and remain content with those we care for. Any hostility is strictly left to whispers and inside thoughts, lest you be publicly embarrassed by yours truly. I know your secrets and am not afraid to use them to ensure you behave.

I thank you all for your kindness and compassion for all these years. There is no dress code, although the fancier you are the more fun we may have. Who knows, the best dressed may win a prize. Know that you are all important to me, and I hope to see as many there as I can. Anyone I do not know must be vouched for by someone I do, as things will get messy otherwise.
 

[Event will take place at Cerulia this Friday and 4:00 EST]

[Admissions tickets are required, but any money spent on them will be reimbursed at the proper table]

[Any who are not vouched for or known will be kicked out or executed depending on attitude]

[If you have any questions, ask Lenore, or contact me at @Burnttoast1625 on discord]

[!] As the waking world basked in the rays of lost purity, no crevice or vestige of Azuras was left spared from its wave of blinding radiance. Every article and item of a reflective or light-absorbent nature is embraced by a marblescent sheen, while every dark-touched soul fathoms a vindictive, burdening judgement of scrutiny.

The following prophecy is available to all practitioners of holy-deific magic, current and former, and all individuals possessing [Prophecy]. 

It is unseen by those considered an “Apostate” in Clerics of Tahariae lore.

[✴] Words of divine inspiration illuminate your mind’s eye, superseding any muse or lesser thought. Any conception of sin, doubt or anxiety departs your conscience and leaves only a pristine slate for an augury to be etched upon. An antlered majesty announces its words steadfast, foretelling a looming and imminent threat:

—

Darkness and shadow encroaches the land,

A divine heresy, grievous and grand.

From purity’s garden shall it emerge,

A black hand brushing blacker stone, a solemn dirge.

—

Grafter of the Old Dark, who shall be untombed,

A wound upon the World, so deeply exhumed.

Shambling from its abyss, a wailing legion,

Dealing its death upon every region.

—

Purity’s rays shall in time pierce the night,

When mortalkind atones and exalts His light.

Lest Entropy claims its shrouded throne,

And the Staghero slumbers evermore, in stone.

—

D ᴀ ʀ ᴋ   T ʀ ᴇ ᴍ ᴏ ʀ ꜱ

[!] As the pure and pristine are met with the prose of the divine, the viler beings of the waking world feel the tremors of the archaic resonate in their souls. No crevice or vestige of Azuras was left spared from a rumbling tremor; decay begins to splinter the orchards and groves of the continent, fruit plummets from the crowns into rotten growths, before too deteriorating into mouldered dust.

The following prophecy is available to all practitioners of dark magic, current and former, and all individuals possessing [Prophecy].

This is either received in a dream, a walking vision, or a stupified trance when you view this post.

It has been no more than a half-moon since the inglorious visions of the abyss sweltered over your minds. Dregs of that scene echo in your mind, even as you lapse into another trance- flashes of stagnated miasma, of oil-seas and blackened debris, all dredging to the foreview of your cognizance. A voice resonates- yet it is not of the chorus familiar to you. It is harsh, bitter, vile, deafening- ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴍɪɴᴅ ɪꜱ ᴛʀᴀɴꜱɢʀᴇꜱꜱᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴀ ᴅᴀᴇᴍᴏɴɪᴄ ᴍᴀɴᴛʀᴀ.

A chant of the archaic, a chant invoked by a plurality of beings- each cobbled together by a vehement effigy from the beyond, diffusing and bidding the impure choristers to incant forth. A foul, epicine voice rumbles like a mountain, gravelling grim, sacrosanct verses at an arrhythmic tempo. 

ƬȪ ƳȬŲ, ƑÍṞṦȾ ḾÕṪȊȎŅ ÕḞ ǞḸꝈ ȾĤĮŅƓṨ,

ṪĦȺƮ ẄĦĮƇĦ ɃƗṆḌŠ ḄȄꞒǬṀȊŅḠŚ ṪǾ ƊÊĆӐỲ;

ṰӨ ƑÖŖḈɆ ĄṊḌ ȾØ ŜǙḄṦṮǺŅĆĒ,

ȾÕ ḨÛǸĜȆŖ ǞṈƊ ṪŎ ḞǾŘṀ–

– ŦǾ ȒƯꞨṰ.

ṬŌ ƳȬŲ, ǍɌÍⱾĔ. ṖĄĿĔ ƑÍȐĖṦ ƊṜİḞṮ,

ȦŜ ŜÔÚĽ ÃŇḐ ƁŎÑĔ ḂȆĆȪṀȆ ÕƝĚ.

ɌȖŞṰ ĚȒÒƉĘŚ ṪḦȄ ṂÝṦṰĬČ ŞⱲǑɌƊ,

ȮƑ ṮĦĖ ḞĀǏȚĦƑȖŁ ӐƝƉ ȚĤÉ ƉǏṼĮƝȆ.

ṬÒ ÝȮƯ, ŬḾꝒḼÚḾĔḌ. ŢĤĒ ĦȰĽḶÔŴ,

ṬḨɆ ĘṂṖĪɌɆ ȔǸƑȰǕṆĐ. ȚÖ ỶǬɄ, ÀȒƗŚÉ.

ṰḢÉ ṨƘȲ ṘĔṂȄṀḆȨȐṨ ŦḨȨ ḄḶƟẂ ḄËḞǾꞦȄ ƗŢ İṤ ṦṬȐŬĈḲ,

ḞǪṞ ɆꝞĖṄ ḢÈÁṼĖŇ ȻǠꞨŦṠ Ⱥ ꞨḨȺƉÖŴ ⱲꞪȨŅ ǏŤ ḞꝈÌÑĊḤȨⱾ.

ƮӪ ƳÓÛ, ḤɆ ẄḨƟ ǑŃĊĔ ẂÃȽꝂĚḎ ӒⱾ ṚȄĬꝄȆƝØṘ,

ĄꞨ ĽĪĢḤƬŠ ȽȬÕŠÊÑĚĐ ḞṚȬṂ ƮⱧĒȊṘ ƇƟǛŖⱾĚŜ;

ÅꞨ ḤÊÏĞḦƮṢ ṚÈⱠĚÃṨÊ ƮḨĘÎŔ ӒĮḾḸÊṢṢ ĤȰṤṮꞨ,

ÅꞤḐ ŢȞɆ ƑǏṜṂÅṂÈꞐƮ’Ꞩ ŘǞỴŜ ẂȺṊĒ ӒṤɄṆḌÊŘ.

ɃÊⱾǏȨǦĒ ṪḦȆ ẆȌŖĽḎ ȮṆĈĘḾǑṘĚ, 

ÚŇŁǏṼÏŅĞ ŔȄİĠṈ ṬȮ ḈꞦǓḾḄḺȨ ȦƤǠȒŤ;

ƮȞĖ ḆŔÏǤⱧṬÊṚ ƬĤÈ ĹÎĞḤṮ,

ŦⱧɆ ƊÈÉꝒËŖ ŢḪÉ ŚĦÃƉŎⱲ.

Ä ẆƠⱤḺƊ ӦḞ ƬȞȆ ƉȆĄḌ,

ƗṨ Ӑ ẄȌⱤḸƉ ǑƑ ⱣĒȀƇÊ.

[⊛] Hɪɢʜᴇʀ ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀᴛ ᴘʟᴀʏ; a fissure of entropy sunders a blackstone monolith in a primeval crypt, splintering fragments of blackened stone upon the glossied floor. A seeping flow of miasma begins to exhale from the stone’s core, flooding the antechamber with dark energies. It gloams with the energies of soul and bone in twain, melded and fissured with something calamitous.

The crypt of yore begins to crumble, as skeletal palms puncture the debris, erupting with coils of entropic lifeforce lashing about its form. Fleshless limbs splayed to the ruinous skies, it howls in vengeant fervour, crimson-eyes blazing with bloodlust.

This vision/prophecy is granted to all sapient beings capable of thought, be they mortal, magical, beastfolk, or otherwise; though the latter half of it is visible solely to Necromancers and related Necromantic CAs. This will be either received in a dream, a walking vision, or a stupified trance when you view this post.

⊱𐫰⊰

Tᴏ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴏꜱᴇ ꜱᴀᴘɪᴇɴᴛ; the world slips away from you, forms and shapes dilating unto shades and remnants of the precursors. What remains smudges to darkness, a somber trance flooding into your very being; your mind’s eye flickers open. And yet the world is still darkened. Morsels of ancestral light leak into the gaps about the world, gleaming slivers in contrast to that nigh-endless bleakness that surmised the nihility. Vapors stream upwards from the dunes of the doleful surface, onyx crystalline grains static upon the dunes, wavering not even a quiver in the unsettling silence.

And then your gaze is wrenched to behold a sundered land, a continental-sized crevasse that renders itself as if a puncture in the world, the hallowed remnants of Aegis lost. The sky itself shifts; a never-ending tessellation of primal shapes and symbols; it bears no revelation unto itself other than the very nature of the lands you stand within. Broken. Grayed, stagnant light leaks between the crevices, the very horizon itself trembling with its shattered nature; a stray beam of shadelight illuminates the space before you; corpses upon corpses lay rampant upon the floor, bones half-degraded into all but ivory dust twinged unto the charcoal sands.

The world drapes itself in miasma, stagnant and ever-seeping. From the deepest, most reclusive stretches of the misbegotten world, a tremor. Then another, and then twice more- as four things, four beings, four thoughts- are eradicated from being. In their hollow seams, the vestiges of the abyss begin to recede, then swell- an imbalance within the way of things. 

High above the vestiges of death, emberless smog floods your lungs. Your arms envelop in mist, and the flesh dissolves- peeling away like rotten fruit plummeting from the tree, leaving but gilded, galvanized bones- entrenched in some primeval essence that begat them to move, even without ligaments of flesh. Your forearms ensnare with unthinkable litanies of runic inscriptions- the bones scored with an abyssall script, as your flesh crumbles more and more- sweat sloughs from what remains of your brow before that too vanishes, begotten to little more than dust swept o’er the floor. 

Soundless chaos floods the plains, without a morsel of motion wrought true- you are little but a skeletal fragment of what is and what was, something that shall never be and will ever be in twain. The encroaching horizon thrums with every pace gained, every dune crossed, every crescentic mound of sand consumed. It brings all to something else; your form is wreathed unto the husk. Feeling comes to your form, yet it is not the vessel you once presided in, and the feeling is vague, distant. It is a feeling of sands and mists, one fleeting as the morning dew and as hazy as an evening fog; your new form lays unmovable, in this bizarre limbo of time and noise. Minutes pass. Stagnant, chilled, minutes. It- you- it- yet you- lays right before the sand-hewn form, slowly being tugged as if to your own whims, as you come to behold the hollow of the world anew.

Sweltered in seething lifeforce, blackened-tar gases and malevolent hues tremor from a formless thing’s being. Skeletal, spectral, yet eternal all at once- a being of wraithdom thrums from the hollow of the world, reconsolidated from forces beyond the Abyss’ own control- spurred of its own being. A hallowed stagnance awaits- before another being punctures the world, then another, yet another, and then- countless. Wraiths thrum from the gap-between-worlds as undeath swelters forth, and they move like a horde- they eclipse the sky in a weald of wreathing tremors and smog, engulfing the ambience in miasma so dense it sickens even your skeletal form.

And then it snaps you back. You return back to consciousness in volatility, your senses returning to you in a sudden burst of information. Yet not for a choice few of you, the necromancers and corporeal undead of the world, still latched in that dreamless haze. . .

⊱𐫰⊰

Tᴏ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴏꜱᴇ ɴᴇᴄʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴛɪᴄ; the endless haze yet perpetuates. Ensnared in the vision of your own making, your body- corporeal, physical- begins to bubble and seethe. A gout of lifeforce pools from your guts and spine, lashing and pluming around your waning form. Some of you arise; you loft and swell with energies primeval, as the Abyss itself- unthinking, unmoving, yet ever-churning- vassalizes you to its might. Some of you fall; you wither and wane, that hallowed essence wrenched deep within your blackened soul whining and pulling- festering to little but dregs of what once was, dregs that may latch to your soul yet or wither away.

The world howls, as briefly- fell Aegis itself reaches into the rest of mundus. Distant shores collide with adjacent coasts, as the lifebanks shear into mortality briefly, as the world unwinds. The dregs of Rh’thor whine and wail as they are eradicated from the necromantic procedure, for a greater force has overtaken them- raw, unkempt, and primeval, it is all but malevolent and mindless; the abyssal craft has fused upon the mortal plane oncemore, held within the necromancers and greater undead amongst you.

And then the words come to you. Flexio, the tongue of the damned. The tongue of the fallen. They chime a chorus, a call, a command. They howl for the chosen amongst you, the fallen beneath you, the transcendent about you. And in those calls, do you heed. You arise. Such they howl;

I̶̷̖̙̾̽̈ ̛͓̼̠̱̃̍́͢ɴ̴̐̀́͋̍͢ͅ ̴̫̭̥̟̘̺̏́͢͡ ̺̣̤̬̗̫̑͛̉̉́̕ ̡̨̖̝̫́̍̊̚͞V͐̾̄̑͌̕ ̛̘̭́̿͐̊ᴇ̡̝͖̞̋̉́͏̴ ̠̠̘̘̟̟ʜ̵̶̨̱̰̹͌͂̐ ̣̲͈̲͔͔͓̀̿ᴇ̦̦͐͊͐ͅ ̸̜̟̋̽̍̽̽̚ᴍ̧̞̹͈͞ͅ ̶̩̱̾̆̓́͘͝͝ᴇ̵̮̻̰̬̩̳͑̽͗̕ ̭͋́̈͌̚͝ɴ̹͇̿̓̓̄ ̷͖̺͈̤̊̑͂͐͐̚͜ᴛ̶̩̫̘̬͓̞̘̮̔͑ ̪͎̏͊̏̚ɪ̛͉͕͐̔́̑̕͞͏̳͆ ̸̛͓̀̓͋̕ᴀ̝̠̻̥̌͒̿͏̣̃͗͜ ̷̶̬̘̘͔̀͊̌͋,͈͈̮͈̯̉̆̊͌͘͞ ̸̧̯̱̘͛̔ ̻̜̩̪͚̀̎̄ ̶̮̮̪̻͕̇Ȯ̮͚̣͂̾͠ ̶̷͎͎̾̍̉̏̎ʙ̷̵̧̬͍͇̓̑̒̀͟ ̵̡̒̐̇̀͆̚͏͓̫̑ᴏ̧͔͈̮̩͢ͅ ̸̗̋̂͂̐́͝ʀ̥̠̒́͌̓ ͈̪̍̇̃͠ɪ̷̷̡̳̳̭̘̙̼̇͘͟ ̙̦͈̓͆̃̏ᴏ̜͆̈̉̃̕͜͞ ͒͋̾͢͞͏̡ʀ͈̯̻̯̘̓̓

And such you heed. The world collapses, and you ‘awaken’ to the world; the world, anew. Irrevocably changed, what are you? What purpose do you bear? A whisper courses the air behind you. Silent and wordless, the hum of the abyss; a chorus of the many. Do you embrace change, or refute it?

⊱𐫰⊰

Hello mreows

As of this announcement going live, Abyssal Necromancy and its accompanying Darkstalker/Draugar rewrite are hereby IMPLEMENTED. These bring massive changes to the necromantic magics and respective playable undead, and the implementation procedure will be summarized within this section. Major changes are abound, and if you play one of these I highly highly highly suggest you carefully read through both this lorepiece and the respective rewrite that is linked below.

Hereby, all prior Rh’thoraen Necromancy pieces are shelved, with the exception of Black Alchemy and Ghouls, both of which remain and are carried over into this piece; the prior Rh’thoraen Necromancy hub (and respectively tied pieces) are being replaced with [Magic Lore] Necromancy - the Abyssal Arts, whilst the Darkstalkers/Draugars are being replaced with  [CA Race Lore] Darkstalkers & Draguars.

This brings with it a partial wipe. There are a small handful of players who have been grandfathered w/ TAs at [T5], with the rest of the Necromantic playerbase given the choice to either DROP THE MAGIC w/ no consequences or create a NEW MA under the name ‘Abyssal Necromancy’, wherein they may be reset to [T1], and need to find a valid teacher to proceed in their progression; failure to /sreq and choose one of the two will lead to it being simply denied after the end of the implementation period. Upon choosing to do one or the other, one may NOT change their mind on such.

Archliches may choose to become either a Paramount Darkstalker or a unique ‘legacy’ type of Lich-Draugar, wherein they permanently have [3] slots dedicated to Abyssal Necromancy (normally, Lich-Draugars are incompatible with Necromancy; this is a one-time thing to legacy archliches that likely will not happen ever again). Darkstalkers and Draugars, as detailed below, may also swap to the other type of CA if they so wish. 

Players will have ONE MONTH to make these changes by via /sreq, with this window of grandfathering ONLY open from now until February 26th 2026, without exceptions. All of these choices are permanent, and may not be undone after made, even if still-within the threshold.

As always for any questions or concerns please contact st :)

MAKE SURE TO LINK YOUR OLD APPS WHEN YOU SREQ OR MAKE A NEW APP.
 

[ Abyssal Necromancy ]

» [I]: There will be FIVE [TA] grandfathers who have been chosen by ST Management, who will be grandfathered in w/ all knowledge at [T5]. These have already been contacted and notified, and will serve as the baseline for the magic to spread.

» [II]: With the removal of the Archlich endgame [CA], all current Archliches will be reimbursed- they must CHOOSE to either become…

» …a Paramount Darkstalker.

» …a Lich-Draugar, uniquely grandfathered in as a ‘legacy archlich’, w/ THREE SLOTS dedicated to Abyssal Necromancy w/ immunity from necromantic disconnection via Sundering. After [1] month post-implementation, they may make a [TA] if they so wish.

» [III]: All other Necromancers must CHOOSE to either…

» …drop the magic with no side effects.

» …become [T1] in Abyssal and need to find a teacher to progress.

[ Darkstalkers & Draugars ]

» [IV]: All current [CA] Darkstalkers at the Nascent or Regressed tier simply become [CA] Darkstalkers. [CA] Darkstalkers at the Paramount tier are elevated to the updated Paramount Darkstalker tier this lorepiece bears.

» [V]: All current [CA] Draugars who have had their [CA] for at least [3] OOC months by the time of this lorepiece being posted will have their [CA] automatically elevated into becoming a Lich-Draugar (the Paramount Darkstalker equivalent) marked as a comment on their [CA].

» All Draugar Phylacteries will cease to exist, given that they do not exist anymore in this lorepiece. Instead, all Draugar Phylacteries will be able to be exchanged out for a Memento Mori bound to said Draugar.

» [VI]: All [CA] Darkstalkers and [CA] Draugars are given the option to SWAP to the other [CA], though cannot drop either.

[ Miscellaneous Changes ]

» [VII]: All [CA] Ghouls are fundamentally untouched by either rewrite’s implementation, and their lore remains as-is. Changes to their creation process do exist, albeit extremely minor and should not affect their mechanics.

» [VIII]: All objects and afflictions from Rh’thoraen Necromancy which do not have purpose or presence within Abyssal Necromancy (Oculi, Modifications, Pale Cursed Items, Rifts of Heith Hedran, etc.) will be irrevocably rendered inert, their magic wicked away from them.

⊱𐫰⊰

I DO NOT LIKE TO KEEP TRACK OF EVENTS JUST BY THE FORUMS. 

I AM NOT IN EVERY NATION DISCORD

I WANT TO SCHEDULE AN EVENT, BUT NOT SURE WHEN IS A GOOD TIME

WHAT EVENTS ARE HAPPENING IN AZURAS? (Assume EST Time)

SUBSCRIBE TO https://calendar.google.com/calendar/u/3?cid=YmU3YjBjMDU2ODlhNWY3MDNhODMyODc1YTQ4YmI4ZGE4NWE0OTEyNThhNjExNTYwNGFjYTg0Zjg2ZDA1Zjk4OEBncm91cC5jYWxlbmRhci5nb29nbGUuY29t

ICAL: https://calendar.google.com/calendar/ical/be7b0c05689a5f703a832875a48bb8da85a491258a6115604aca84f86d05f988%40group.calendar.google.com/public/basic.ics

Disclaimers:

- I did a cursory search, so no other events from nations aside from Idunia and Empire was found. Feel free to forum DM me and I can add thy event. 

- You will need to log-in to Google Calendar to view the calendar of events or use the ics file format

- I did not add weddings. Some of them may be invite-only, hence why it is not added. DM me if you would like your event added to the calendar

- For now, no notifications are set if you add this calendar. This may change, and changes will be announced if this changes to prevent people getting pinged. 

- This is a test. Depending on feedback and if this is considered helpful, ET and NLs can be added to edit and create events as needed.

- If you would like to remove an event from consideration, forum DM me. 

- End times are estimated. Assume these are not set in stone. 

- Every event will have the following:

Nation

Location

Link to the Event in the Forum post

Nations will be in title in brackets. This allows for searching for events in thy nation. 

Events are publicly available. I thought about one calendar for each nation, but it's a bit difficult to adminster alone. This can be implemented at a later time, but I found this useful personally and thought to shre. 

Feel free to leave feedback.

War got you down? 

Exterminatus feeling a little 'Extreme'-inatus?

Blow off some steam in the Musin town of Babblebrook with

 playing an OPEN TO THE PUBLIC SHOW in 

THE MUSIN TOWN OF BABBLEBROOK

The evening of Sun's Smile of year 266

You'll be CHEESING at the sight of our BRAND NEW merchandise 

Our new lyrics will have you SQUEAKING with joy!

Take a minute to make the best of LIFE DURING WARTIME

A small map with co ordinates was posted: Urguan Soulstone Warp (NOT southern shore) X +1138 Z +473
The tacked up booklet featured an iteration of their original advertisement, with booking instructions updated

Band members:

Not invited to an exclusive private show last year? 

NEVER FEAR!

Our sheer raw talent cannot be contained behind closed gates!

That is why

is playing an OPEN TO THE PUBLIC SHOW in 

JUNMURA

The evening of Sun's Smile of year 264

We will have new wares that will make you feel like you'll NEED A MEDIC!

We will have new songs that will be sure thrill and chill you!

Just when you thought you'd seen it all

WE ARE JUST BEGINNING!

Co ords and band members:

Ready to put 262 behind you?

Celebrate the arrival of 263 with a free LANDSKAR show!

Assemble at the NorthEast Passage crossroads of Norland and the Empire the evening of Horen's Calling and prepare to be amazed! 

(We will have merch)

*In the enclaves of magic, both voidal and divine, missives would be pinned. The parchment exudes ambient arcana as small starlit drops drip from the page. Those choosing to retrieve and hold the missive would find the colorless wisps begin to take on the color of their own aura, whether they knew it or not.*

~ * ~

To my fellow descendants and brethren beneath the Veil. The one who penned this missive has seen centuries pass and bore witness to the unceasing darkness that drives our forced migration across the realms. 

The intent of this message is one of unity. For in our collective understanding we find both balance and prosperity. Above all else it is our collaboration that allows us to survive. Survive not just each other but existential threats. The Void, abyssal monsters, the wrath of fallen Daemons, the hellfire of alien realms, calamity.

We know too well of that abyssal darkness just past the horizon of our world. An unending death marches towards us warded only by the divine nature of creation. This curtain of protection known as the Veil, the mortal bastion, cannot withstand the torrents of nothingness alone. Not as it once did. It now exists as a patchwork quilt burned through in too many spots to count. A beggars cloak told to withstand the winter chill.

There was a time where my powers allowed me to speak directly to those Arcanists who practiced my gift. It was through this arte that we brought Order to Chaos and illuminated the path for others. We found purpose in healing the sunderings and warding off the horrors. Our Celestial partners were released back to the Veil as capable guardians who still fight on our behalf.

Now, with my power sealed, I write to you not under a cloak of magic like I once did. Instead I write humbly for those stalwart defenders of our realm to begin mustering their defenses and preparing their arsenals. In my travels through the outer realms I witnessed a curdling amongst the Veil. The ambient cloak keeping all of our realm alive has long been breached and is ripe for mass incursion. I am no prophet, nor Aengul, and I can give no timeline for when future rifts might occur yet I know it in my soul to be inevitable. The Chromaweave was just the beginning. We cannot fight alone. Through unity we survive. Balance is the queller of calamity.

Under the gifted stars we all do seek to live out a life. We all share these stars just as we share the the act of living. Figure out your justice, fight your wars if you must, and find a way to survive. The cycle of corruption must be thwarted. Else we will soon run out of continents to escape to. 

So long as the Veil should hold, 

The Celestial Shepherd

*After the missive has been held and then read it slowly begins to crumble. Not to dust but rather it flakes off into small ethereal white butterflies that float ever upward. The one holding it would feel a tingling sensation in mind; A boon of creativity, a spark of inspiration, or perhaps the pinging sensation of anxiety, or looming dread.*

?

Is your Tavern night feeling more like a Travesty night? 

Are your tastemakers feeling a little… tasteless recently?

Don’t fret!

We have a cure to all of your mid maladies….

Your 4 favorite little guys are pleased to present:  
 

A Serendipity Joint

Book us for a musical spectacle your denizens will NEVER forget!

(we play any gig!)

Send a letter to book and include: 
Date and time of event
Event theme or purpose

Public or Private event

Co ordinates of the event

Any song requests

We may require a merchandise table for our wears