[PROPHECY / ANNOUNCEMENT] IN VEHEMENTIA, OBORIOR

[Pallodium 3775]

OOC:

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.

 

⊱𐫰⊰

[King_Kunuk 3022]

The Witch King held his sword on high, the head of his rival in another. All around him, undead warriors kneeled in supplication. Green lights flickered around him as his sword was enveloped in a ghostly fire. He roared at the top of his lungs,

[Chimeraof1999 1187]

Erm, hell yes?

[PolarLoLs 984]

 

Many dreams- those pleasant proved burdens, that of wicked prove holy.

Another fate to preach- or was it past?

 

Flesh unfolds like wraps of sweets, hearts twist and lungs breath black

 

“Blessed be the Black God”

 

[LichinCrocs 257]

E

[Hawkeye_Gough 624]

The Darkeater's hostage received no vision. He was already dreaming within his false abyss, a failed approximation spurned not by the Scar's weight on the banks but instead by the terrors beyond the Veil. However, his dedicant told him of the shifting sands upon Old Aegis, and he awoke.

 

"We have foretold this day," it said through the mouth of its soothsayer for it had no form to speak itself. "Forget the relics of old, be-damned the Ring and the Stake and the Lantern." The blackness of the False Abyss grew, stealing monochrome Dark from the colors in the woman's very soul.

 

"If the Abyss churns. . . You've someone to find." Without another word did it disappear, leaving no evidence it was more than a throne of hewn onyx.

[StokedOff 456]

r

[MsLinni 828]

whoa

[tantuni445 289]

ya sabır

[AechQQ 104]

[Metamancy 1759]

A Paramount stood at a precipice, looking over the mortal world below.

Its cape billowed in the wind behind it, its midnight-black armor glinting in the setting sun.

The night was young.

[lemonke 6014]

 

Spoiler

 

A beast of untold origins, wreathed in spiders and decay, rose from the tomb she lay within. Her clawed hands tarnished flesh and tore through bone like paper. A vision, an abysmal vision, bloomed across her visage, and that newfound blessing settled darkly in her heart. She could have refused it, but no, it was far too late. She could not return to what once was.

 

There was no rest for the wicked.

 

And so, this jester of sorts arose, looming in a form woven of many colorful silks and a grinning bone mask that frowned and laughed all the same. Her hands spread wide in a grandiose gesture before swirling about, as if guiding those she had lost back to her side. Ambition burned within her mind; she had won, she had proven the rest wrong. She had been chosen.

 

 

"LO AND BEHOLD, THE SPIDER, IGARASHI JOROGUMO, SMILE BONE IS HERE. WE HAVE BEEN CHOSEN TO BRING FORTH OUR MEAT CIRCUS, AND SO OUR DREAM SHALL BECOME TRUE. WE WILL BUILD THE MOST POWERFUL, THE MOST GRANDIOSE CIRCUS WITHIN THE ABYSS, AND KILL MORDRING ONCE AND FOR ALL!"

[Phantuhm 193]

             
The Abyss Consumes

Edited January 26 by Phantuhm

[Mestvin 947]

[wowj 9747]

Giilriik'Ungri the Darkstalker suddenly becomes Gillriik'Ungri, the Draugar