[ET] TOMB OF HORRORS

[Pintape 170]

16 minutes ago, Wyrvun said:

Emaelia Drakon without hesitation signed her name upon the contract. Writing below. . .

"I additionally, promise the volunteers of my clan, and their wards who will sign seperately."

Ilaedon looked for a moment, rubbing his forehead. "Ah, what the hell. I'm in." He quickly signed his name on the contract.

[LoxyTheReindeer 356]

Standing in the great hall, feeling the simultaneous weight of dread and flutter of temptation, Ivacia signs the contract. Upon signing the final letter, she feels a weight in her soul; this is permanent. She takes a deep breath, and with her newly forged arm of daemonsteel- which swirls with stars and cosmic clouds- she draws her longsword.

"Time to go knockin' on the gates of hell."

[Sygnus_ 202]

Aroiia looks over the document and sighs,

"This isn't the first, nor will it be the last time I faced the undead. Very well Emaelia."

The elder would sign her name upon the contract.

[HummytheHamster 49]

52 minutes ago, Wyrvun said:

Emaelia Drakon without hesitation signed her name upon the contract. Writing below. . .

"I additionally, promise the volunteers of my clan, and their wards who will sign seperately."

Celaena Drakon glances over at her archon as she  signs the contract, her suspicious eyes skimming over the parchment. When it comes to her turn she signs her name without a second though, a look of determination settling upon her features as she muses over what lies ahead...

[Reetzy 33]

KhanI would sign their name, readying their pack for the quest ahead alongside their fellows

[don dada 579]

The herald stood amidst the desolation, his breath echoing through the hollow remnants of that ancient guild hall. Upon the appearance of the guild master, a blade means to draw blood from that stranger approaching; until a parchment scroll is brandished.

 

"What is this?" asked Surtr, keeping that blade upon their neck.

 

"See for yourself," spoke the elden guild master.

 

"You speak with a sense of trickery," accused Surtr once, as they

discerned that scroll, bound by arcane seals and laws ancient.

 

"And what use would one have for deceit, within this primeval

place?" And then, they simply smiled. The reaction came off

disturbing upon conception. "You speak so highly of me, at that."

 

Eventually, the former sellsword gave in, peeling at the material of that parchment to look upon what was depicted: a mission of grave importance, the undead, and their Lord prophesized to return to the realm of man. Without hesitance, that blade came up again.

 

 

"Ah. So you understand what this means, Surtr." Despite the

prevalent threat upon them, they were unmoving, that smile

remaining upon the shaded visage of an individual most

unpleasant.

 

"I know not what you speak of," he means to draw blood from that

enigmatic guild master, and yet a feeling evades him. At a push,

he expects a reaction, instead...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

B̷̜̌L̴̮̕Ó̸̡̭̾T̶̡͒H̶̝̽̅R̸̹̚.̸̻͈̋ ̷̭̩͌Ḡ̶̢͉͊Ḭ̵͔̒̇F̵̫͊̐F̵͈͍͐M̵͙͂ͅỲ̶͎ ̴͍͖̽Ą̸́͂É̷̞M̴̺͚̃̂U̶̜͓̐͒Ș̷̦́ ̶̛̩B̶̧̄͋L̴̠̂Ỏ̵̯͙͑T̸͓̙̉H̴̢̼̀̂R̸̽ͅ,̷̙͘ ̸͕̿Ȧ̸̹̬͒D̵̟̞́͝Ȧ̸͕L̵̠͂̽M̴̟͇̆́.̸̫̮̓͠

 

 

 

 

 

"You understand your place. And so you shall see to your

next destination." If it weren't for something amiss, one

could swear the guild master began to cackle under their breath.

 

It was yet to dawn upon him, but the sound of a droplet upon papyrus earned a snapping look. Once, upon the contract; signed once by blood, and another upon that gap in his gauntlet, a cut upon his thumb. That surge of a foreign energy surges within him upon this realization; perhaps a vision, or a prophecy, or those emotions birthing upon him convoluted into a nightmare, so briefly. Yet few words lingered upon him, ones he could understand, compared to the chants of many.

 

D̸̫̈ė̵͔͘s̶͈̯͊͋t̷̯̓i̵̲̓n̸̘͔͘͝y̷̖̆̈́.̶̧̊̕ ̵͇̱̽C̴̖̬͂̃ö̵̫́̚n̵̯̾ņ̷̄̈́e̷̳͌͂c̷̦̈t̴̛͖̩i̵̤̓̈o̷̙̅n̴̦̞͋̔.̸̩͔̊
̵̲́̈́
̶͉́F̴̮̞̆ő̷̺͘r̴̮͛̎w̷̭̒ă̸̭̦̚r̴͕̓d̵̛̰̩̊.̵̨͚̐

 

"You need do little but the rest." He gestured faintly to the

remaining lines where his blood belonged in name, "And so

you shall find yourself among those you wish to protect, before."

 

And if Surtr meant to assault this guild master for that moment of vulnerability; they had descended farther into the darkness to be of reach. Denial came first, then anger. Yet there were little to bargain for now, with that feeling evoking intrigue upon the sellsword, yet a wrongness equally sowed in the back of his mind.

 

Yet, there was no going back. Only forward.

 

Thus, he signed that contract.

 

 

 

Art by: Plastiboo

 

 

Spoiler

 

cool eventline post @Petsch2k

 

Edited July 21, 2024 by madnorth

[CanadaMatt 873]

An automaton approached the table observing the contract, after reading the contract the automaton struggled to grab the quil and decided to put its first into the ink then stamping its fist print onto the contract.

" statement: this unit dose not need a contract to kill darkdpawn"

[JuliusAakerlund 2402]

10 hours ago, Seuss said:

Joakim Colborn stands in the barracks of the Brotherhood of Saint Karl. In his right hand he holds his powerful mace that he wields no matter where he goes. In his right, the mighty round shield bearing the face of House Colborn. He stands stoically overlooking the bridge coming and going from the city of New Valdev. His eyes poised on friends and strangers alike who return and depart.

 

Not far away from Joakim stood his brother, Davyd. He leaned against a tree while thinking about the contract that they'd signed. The House of Colborn has never once flinched in the face of Darkness, nor its servants, and it wouldn't this time either. That, that he knew no matter his other stray thoughts.

[KidKrinkles 2043]

Off in the Aryn-en-Eryn, the bowie sat under the canopy of his pitched tent, blue and black and gray canvas tapped at by the usual rain, the wind pushing at flaps to join him and choke at what little candle light he had.

 

The ranger-knight eyed the contract, back against the stone-wall of the Mistwatch Point's tower. He turned with a grumble, and placed the paper on the wall. His hand drew a quill, one that was seeing more action than his sword these days, and he spent some time drawing his signature onto the line, carefully.

 

He found nothing. Though he stared at it harder, and caught his mistake.

 

'Once signed in blood'...

 

There was a brief pause. A contemplative look in the silence. The wind seemed to pick up, just a bit more, and the whistle through the trees of the haunted wood seemed to announce the realization. He took a deep breath and sighed, looking over to Karispacus.

 

"Well, te' sword craves 'eroic deeds."

 

The ranger-knight slid his bowie-knife out from his boot, and sliced a small line on the back of his left-hand; he never understood the dramatics of the palm or the fingers... and he needed to work. He watched the blood well, and outside, the dread forest continued to howl in it's approval. As a storm formed over the tent, and the tower, he dabbed his quill into the little blood that trickled up.

 

He etched over his signature, slowly, tracing the black lines he put to paper. And once he lifted his quill, he nodded approvingly. The wind crept in, and strangled the light from candle, plunging the tent into an umbra. In the dark, the contract was sealed.

 

 

[Fionn__TWG 2795]

An aging Raevir Prince looked upon the contract as he contemplated... Perhaps he'd be signing his death, though why would it matter? Who in his realm would truly mourn his death if he fell? Two Kings had passed within his family, and two reigns he had squandered, reclusively dwelling within his family's abode rather than workingto better it, or at least protect it. As weary as he was for that which lay ahead, he knew he must. He could not be known as a Crow who took from the Kingdom rather than gave to it. And so his hand glided across the parchment.

 

Robert Sigmund Barbanov-Bihar

[Clone_Fives 75]

The ranger eyed the guild master for several moments, seeming warry of him and the contract. Something about the contract seemed off but she thought of the threat an undead horde, how dire it was, and how she had fought similar threats to her home. The adunic ranger quickly put her suspicion aside for the time being as she signed the contract.
"I hope this threat is not as terrible as you make it out to be, dieithryn"

[Sandman_Plays 659]

{!}

Caspian would read over the suggested Dungeon diving, he ponders a moment and looks upon the missive.

"Its been a while since this Brotherhood did something that wasn't fate of the world dependent, perhaps it will provide more answers on the recent attack on Waltonberg"

The man would summon his officers together and they begin to prepare for the dungeon, outfitting the Brotherhood Exploration party to a severe degree knowing they were soon to take the plunge themselves.

[iris1612 1780]

Illuminated by the dull green light of the tomb, a raven-haired woman stood before the spectral guildmaster with eyes cold and calculating. "How many souls, I wonder, have been condemned to eternally wander these halls?" But even as she spoke words of doubt, the thin aurum dagger was drawn from its place at her belt.

The sting of the blade elicited no cry of pain as a thin cut was drawn into scarred palm, letting rivulets of blood drip into inkwell. And, dipping quill into that sanguine humor, she scrawled a name across that parchment.
 

"We're going to need backup," she warned to the invariably smiling Elfess beside her, to whom she proffered knife and quill.

 

"And a lot more potions."

[ShinyB 567]

A young boy sits at the table, his eyes peering just over its oaken edge. He glances over the contract with a curious gaze. He can't understand all of its big and fancy words just yet, but he gets the gist. It may take him a few years before he sets out of this exciting and new adventure, but he has a big heart and an even grander sense of duty. After some years of training, he is confident he will aid in expelling the wicked Fel from his homeland. With hopes of making his father proud and little hesitation, he reaches up with a well-worn quill to scrawl a not-so-well practiced signature...

 

[Nagisa02 48]

The short, ginger haired, elf giggles as her ever-present smile widened, taking the knife and quill from her friend. "how fun" She'd hum happily before slashing her own palm, watching the blood pool out before dipping in her quill and bending over the paper, signing her own name.