Nozgoth

we are always up for rp if you're into philosophy and stuff like that my discord is Grungoth-Gung#5616

St. Foltest’s Monastery Nunquam non paratus During the warm summer months some few years ago, in the heartland just a blink outside of Providence, there erected, seemingly overnight, a quaint but significant monastery. It went nameless - undeclared, for many years, yet no cobwebs were collected where it stood. For the monks and teachers of the monastery were active, and it was due to their foreignness to the land that they did not yet have it named or declared. Here marks the day in which it is declared: St. Foltest’s Monastery, of the Canonist Church, still stands proudly-so upon the hill from which it was built. Its doors are open for those who wish to learn and worship, and in the name of GOD will it stand as a stronghold against any evil that may brew upon the border and the reaches North. As well, we wish to offer our service and support not only to any fellow men of GOD, but to any who need it in these long and weary days. To a faithful life, Monk Yahya

putting you in my next verse

At long last... SWA RISE UP

please bring them back PLEASE

I approve.

~Some depiction of a thing very old~ THE LULL OF CORRUPTION Down in the deep, but also out in the open, something now lurked. Do you hear it weep? Listen close and you may hear the Devil’s work. It stays with the sheep, immersed in their kind- their white fur. But it is false, deception was at fault. Corruption stretched outward at the land with its sickly black fingers. Its grasp-like-iron was ever-growing. It would not relent. The taint of one-thousand ages now stirred and gained a degree of restlessness as stagnation had taken a hold on the world for far too long. That was soon to be settled. For the corruption sung its tune, and the sons of man listened. The Lull was setting in; all the world would fall asleep to the voice in the wind, and the whisper of the moon, its awful hymns and discordant cacophonies that sounded as if the choirs of Hell itself had crooned. And in this daze did awake the old evil in one man; a ponderer of life and death and all that was in between. But perhaps the corruption had too lulled him, even so he dared not admit it. Delusion had usurped his mind- made an abhorrent martyr of it, but a martyr nonetheless. In league with the soul and the seraphim, this man needed to purge the men of their sin. Oh, how desperately he needed to. And he knew how to. It was his fate, forever bound to such an existence. But what is self-sacrifice? Was it out of goodness? Or was there something else that lurked… What a miserable fate, laughable, even; but in a cynical, sadistic way. In the way that a God might, staring down at its creation in amusement. Knowing that everything was due to it. Though nothing is that simple, true. For what God would laugh at itself? Magick of elden ages, rituals wrought by the memories of dead men, and symbols antiquated by long-eras were beginning to unfurl the steep precipice that is time. For with time, there eventually comes entropy; Void (a word that particularly disgusts the man). Old ways awoke and mingled now with new things. The taint ever-widened. The corruption spread its wings. The voice: It sings, it sings The Lull of Corruption that salvation brings.

The remnants of something old stirred, but what were they now? Just fragments of a bygone era, swept up by the wind. The Prophet was no-longer, but the antiquities of his work still were.

Been there done that, except with alchemy, after writing a multitude of pieces (over the span of 1.5 years) and conducting unique and intriguing alchemy rp for months. It's almost as if the ST is anti-effort, or anti-creativity. The truth is, the server won't appreciate your work and effort, and it definitely won't be flexible enough to accept it, as that would strip power from the ST. Everybody sits on their high horse and preaches about quality and lore but that's one of the reasons everything is so bad these days.

I hate this server. Babylon falls and babylon rises. Why why why why why why why

"Not a tear left the eyes of Saevel, for the black ballad was over now. The whispers of the water would soon drown out even the march of war and all but the crow's calling. And in the deepest recesses of the mortal mind there slept soundly a weeping, broken thing... yet he was no-longer present, how could this be? Saevel did not understand, nobody did."

“Trapped. Stretched thin as I vye to escape the shadow which beckons.” Saevel’s Delusion The world as it was had not yet been disturbed, nor stirred from its slumber. For every bird’s chirp, there was a dormant heart, beating-still. For every footstep, it sounded. For each rustle of leaves, it was there. And it did not relent. This monotonous operation existed too in the minds of men, and there it persisted especially. For perhaps the mind acted as a conduit; a gateway of sorts into what etheric avenues lay just beyond the reach of one’s eye. And if one were to answer the ever-thumping heart, they might just find what they were in search of. Or maybe they wouldn’t - maybe it was all just an illusion, a construct of the mind itself. Perhaps there was nothing beyond. Perhaps there were no eldritch truths beyond the veil, nor in the stars, nor the symbols and signs which the world was wrought of. Regardless, there would be no whole truth in the perspective of one man; for no one man could realize what took one-million minds to create. And thus spawned the delusion. Enlightenment is a fickle thing, a thing no mortal can possess so-long as they are even semi-unconscious of themselves. It is true realization; the ascension beyond oneself so that they are a man no longer. And yet one mind possessed it, or at least he had convinced himself of it, and as such, convinced the world’s beating heart of it. Such that men gathered under the moon’s shine and watched as miracles were made, systems were broken, and true magic was unintentionally performed. The true magic would not be realized until later, for it was only in his delusion that he birthed it, and the combined delusion of many who fueled it. The world would be deluded under false promises and systems which did not truly exist. What alchemy? What magic? What eldritch truths were there? Had it all been a dream? The heart was sick. It skipped a beat. It throbbed and hobbled until it could thump nevermore. The veil was then lifted. It all just was. It all just is. It is the All, and the Nothing. The veil is lifted. But even here we experience the delusion. One can never claim to be free of it, lest they get sucked back in within an instant. It is a paradox. A construct which my sick and twisted mind fabricated. A gruesome machination. I claim to be deceived and yet I deceive myself! But why? It puts a pit in my stomach! The question is why? I pry at the bars, but they only grow thicker. I cry to the stars, but they only snicker! Why has my own mind ensnared me? Why does it suffocate me in its all-encompassing odium? Please, oh please! Free me from this eternal torment! I don't know how much longer I can run. Signed, Levaes

The Reverie Heed his words of ill intent, For though we all are heaven-sent, We still wish for more. In a world of truths bent, Lives unspent, And paradise dreamt, I cannot hope to see a better fate forevermore. But through my eyes I see, For they are the doors. Is all just not what it seems? Do we live in hopeless reverie? I can sense the walls cracking, Cracking, at their seams. But who would build such a thing? Surely not you, or me! Unless it was, and it is a dream. Perhaps it’s just a reverie, Alive until whenever he, Awakens.

This might seem abrupt but I guess I’m known for doing erratic stuff by now. I didn’t initially plan on writing a leaving post, I thought that quietly disappearing would be much more ideal. As it turns out, I think that writing a proper post will prevent me from ever coming back. “I feel I need a holiday, a very long holiday, as I have told you before. Probably a permanent holiday: I don’t expect I shall return. In fact, I don’t mean to, and I have made all arrangements… I feel all thin, sort of stretched, if you know what I mean: like butter that has been scraped over too much bread. That can’t be right. I need a change, or something.” - Bilbo I’ve been thinking about leaving for a long time now. LOTC has become a burden and the little amount of fun I have on it is not worth all the implications of remaining on this server. The storyline I’ve been doing was meant to serve as a conclusion for me; a final piece of art before I leave - but unfortunately (and ironically) I haven’t even the willpower to properly finish it (it’s been cut short, evidently, though I made a final post for it). "It is easy to kill a man, it is difficult to kill an idea" I can’t really describe why, but I just feel like I have to leave. I’m proud of the work I’ve done on this server, the friendships I’ve created, and though I don’t like to admit it, LOTC has helped me grow a lot. It was good meeting you all and telling a story, but at some point the bad levels out with the good and it’s better just to leave. I’ll also be leaving all discord servers, but if you want to keep in touch my discord is Nozoa#5616. Don’t try to tempt me back though, please. I hope at least some people found enjoyment in my writing and my stories and characters. So long, LOTC.