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[✓] Legend Lore - The Stalker of Ebrietas


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Footnote: This small piece of legend lore can be used as one of the several reasons why rituals such as those from Necromancy/Mysticism/Blood magic/Naztherak/Dark magic, etc, fail and can provide consequence to their failure, should an event come of it. Also can be made into a potential eventline for a lesser antagonist against dark mage types.

-

Legend

 

♪ ♫ ♪ ♫

 

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((credit to an unknown artist))

 

 

The waxing moonlight drew in above the robed ritualists, numbering four in total. They were an experienced bunch, seasoned with several seances, callings, and communions they had performed with the dead. Dim candlelight complemented the moon, nestled about them in a crude circle. A sacrifice had already been rendered, blood viciously rent from an innocent woman they had snatched from the nearby hamlet. The ungodly chants began in their foreign, black tongue. The four wished to perform vivification, to dredge up the past spirit of their cadaver and extract knowledge from the agonized thing.

 

 

Years passed on and on since his arrival into the unsightly, washed out realm of Ebrietas, a domain of the Archaengul herself. This damned spirit had tried to cling their morality in unlife, donning a shroud of red and taking up arms against the mindless and malignant undead that plagued the realms which the descendants set foot upon. However what he sought to destroy in turn destroyed him, rending the phylactery which he carried upon himself to feel alive, as if human once more. Vengeance, determination, and sheer hatred overcame the displaced soul, pried from the seven to reside within bones, only to be finally damned to Ebrietas itself.
The spirit bore the name Mercaius, not too much unlike the one he had in his unlife.

 

To die fighting the eternal enemy was not enough for the disheveled soul, so he gathered the remnants of himself and set out within the stagnant realm of spirits. Through willpower and displays of savage brutality the black spirit dominated several lesser souls to be within his legion. His ultimate goal was to draw the sights of Aeriel herself onto this upbringing of souls, from there he hoped she would descend from the soulstream to quell this insurrection. While far fetched, the deranged spirit believed she could be bested and slain if pitted against a vast legion of these forsaken souls. During one occasion of his conscriptions he met a great horned spirit, after being revealed to be a maleficar Mercaius’ wrath broiled and he set himself as well his ramshackle legion against the horned fiend.

 


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((Credit to ChrisCold))
Ebrietas

 

 

The uncanny chants and incantations progressed, urging louder and louder. Their tallow candles began to flicker, momentarily fading only to return. They had performed this rite a number of times, with only little nuances varying in between. A harsh gale rolled through the forests and over the occultists, and then utter silence. With a twitch and churn, the corpse within their circle begun to animate to some degree. Slithers of dark smog radiated from it, converging above the body to form some mass that could vaguely be described as humanoid. Inhuman cries and the occasional shrill sounded from it, wracked in agony from the seance. The ritualists’ questioning began.

 

 

However, the horned lord fielded a legion of his own, though numbering less than Mercaius, his forces were composed of souls far greater than the common rabble of Ebrietas. An apparition, gorged on perhaps hundreds, tore into the ranks as devilish fire burned dozens. Those that did not turncoat began to flee as even fewer remained in the strife. Mercaius’ forces were decimated, though not before the bitter soul struck a grave blow against the horned lord. As he peeled back amid the fray a small trinket was dropped. Mercaius managed to acquire the device before he too had to flee, the remnants of his legion crumbling.

 

The goal of dethroning the Archaengul had been destroyed alongside his forces. Now the demented spirit wandered for years furthermore, keeping to his own in the bleak wastes that is Ebrietas. The trinket he had plundered from the horned spirit began to vibrate and convulse as Mercaius neared a font of vague energies. Later, he would refer to these as rifts, tears, or waypoints, arbitrary places within Ebrietas in which a strong connection between the mortal realm and that of the damned was had. These waypoints sprout up from successive rituals from magi that attempt seances, vivification, or somehow understand how to forge a link between the two, and so on.

 

 

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((credit to an unknown artist))

 

♪ ♫ ♪ ♫

 

After probing and prying at one of these waypoints the nature of the horned lord’s trinket was uncovered. By willing himself directly into one of these rifts, he was wracked with pure agony that threatened to destroy the soul. Nonetheless, he found himself in a new, unforeseen place. A dark attic littered with innumerable tomes, unlit candles, skulls, and other occult paraphernalia. It was abandoned, though realization soon came to the spirit regardless. This was a place of dark rituals, of blood offerings, and seances. Confusion turned to rage and he set to destroying the vilified place. An hour or two transpired, perhaps a little longer before the maddened spirit was torn back into Ebrietas as it is believed the trinket can only grant a brief amount of time back upon the plane of the living. In his wake laid the destroyed attic, barely anything at all was able to be scavenged when the ritualists returned to discover the violent mess.

 

Now he continues to roam the blasted lands, gravitating towards the rifts wherever they could be found, however sparse and far between. The soul finds some modicum of respite within this, traveling for unknown leagues only to enact a limited fraction of his anger upon those that try to tap into the realm of damned souls.

 

 

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((Credit to benthedwarf))

 

 

Confused and agitated the practitioners elected to begin their seance once more, putting the blame on one of their own that was the least experienced. Something else dwelled within the adjacent forests, manifested from the abundance of otherworldly energies they used to vivify and summon forth a spirit from Ebrietas. Unsteadily, the ritual began to commence once more, straining the invokers. A bloodcurdling, inhuman scream broke out from the treeline of the clearing, prickling at their ears as they jarred to a halt. Warily they drew out their weapons, perhaps believing it to be some night beast in their panic. Following after the shrill, a hazy, black spirit clad in translucent armaments charged straight for the four. One of the cultists managed to strike at the demented soul, yet the mundane weaponry did seemingly nothing but draw the ire of it. A rusted blade raised high before smattering harshly upon him, again, again, and yet three times more, making the ritualist into a bloodied display as his compatriots were paralyzed in horror. Never before had they come across such a thing in their rituals, though finally, the spirit had met the practitioners which fiddled with the realm beyond their own at least a dozen times over. One managed to flee as the others fought for their lives, having not precaution, gold or blessed objects to truly injure or stave the enraged soul off. 

 

Several days later the sole cultists returned with a number of hired anomaly-hunters, armed to the teeth with gold and sanctified scripture in hopes of banishing, or outright killing the crazed spirit. Much to their dismay (as well as relief), the thing was nowhere in sight, or in the surrounding regions for that matter. Only a sickening display of unrestrained brutality was left in its wake. He was off, back within Ebrietas. The next rift was miles and miles away from the last, yet the thought of revenge, even if only for an hour, was enough to make him persevere in his long travels.

 

 

“Take precautions as well preparation when you conduct your rituals, my mystic, lest you summon the mad stalker instead.”

- Barrowlord Volkantir of the Synod

 

 

OOC Explanation:

Spoiler

Legend Race/Birthplace/gender/brief history: 

 

Mercaius was known as Mercer in both his living and undeath. An Orenian legionnaire turned one of the last Nauzican of Philip I Frederick. The Nauzican died alongside his emperor in the destruction of Johannesburg. Even death did not end his duty as he was animated years later by a lich that recovered the remnants of his body. Denied rest, he feigned loyalty to the necromantic Gravelords until he was given his phylactery. The Darkstalker struggled with morality, yet believed in the ideals of the Redshrouds, a group of undead designed to hunt the anomalies of the world under the idea that they shall suffer so humanity does not. There he plotted to enact revenge upon the mages which brought him into undeath, when the moment was opportune.  Mercer carried his own phylactery as under some delusion it made him feel alive, to feel human once more. Ultimately he and it were crushed when a group, including himself, delved into the depths of a cursed hamlet in Atlas. A horde of mindless undead began to surround Mercer as he bid time for his compatriots to escape via a rope. They wrestled him to the ground and pried, broke, his armor until they discovered the phylactery, crushing it. Being a Darkstalker, his soul was twisted, and so he was damned to Ebrietas.

 

How the Legend would be proliferated in RP: 

 

Dark mages that conduct rituals with chance involved can have this as one of the reasons to why the ritual failed. It can easily be described as if the connection to Ebrietas, etc, was cut from the other end. I find that most dark magics, especially rituals, don't have any form of consequence involved besides "ouchy feel bad" for a bit. Of course there are some exceptions to this. It can spread through word of mouth, experimentation, study, so forth.

 

On the other hand, a member of the ST could in fact roleplay the spirit in an event where a ritual or whatever is conducted. This could lead to some interesting conflict as a demented spirit is summoned instead of the desired effect. It could even be done purposefully to study and theorize or develop into a large eventline based on banishing or killing the spirit once in for all. 

 

That being said I would extremely prefer an ST member to get in touch with me before deciding to utilize this lore. If allowed by ST management, and along with oversight, the lore holder could be allowed to run a player-event with the aforementioned spirit if there is proper reason and understanding.

 

 

Citations:

Spoiler

Original Darkstalker lore:

 

This lore was submitted before:

 It was denied for not being reformatted for the ongoing lore games at the time. 

 

Small piece I wrote for fun, always down for feedback, questions, criticisms and so on.

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1 hour ago, Augustine said:

I find that most dark magics, especially rituals, don't have any form of consequence involved besides "ouchy feel bad" for a bit.

Pale blood magic has pretty insane effects on a person/ritual site if it comes to critical failure, other than that i do agree on that one. Love the piece overall, great work.

 

PS. Good to see you dude. Hope you're doing okay. Holler if you ever wanna chat. Tyrone#7181

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pretty banging stuff man, so ******* sick seeing his story and being there for his time alive.

 

missed you a **** ton too big dawg.

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This Lore has been accepted. Moved to Implemented Lore, it will be sorted to it's appropriate category soon. Please note that if this is playable lore, such as a magic or CA, you will need to write a guide for this piece. You will be contacted regarding the guide (or implementation if it isn’t needed) shortly.

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