femurlord

[This is a private roleplay post, only meant for the enthralled eyes of the Corcitură in the Pentaculum Columnarum, alongside their Moroaice kindred.] From the seat of the five, the Farmer moved, seeking its battish reflection in a wall of mirrors. A magic force was called from the gargoyle’s veins as it wrote in their blood. Sigils and runes call lesser kindred from afar, and the Farmer’s reflection spoke to them through anything reflective. A haunting mirage with fateful messages. ⤝✤ ────────────⤛ ⛧ ⤜──────────── ✤⤞ There are five fingers to His Godhand; at present, we number four. To stand amongst divinity is your challenge—the door stands open once more. To test your mettle against your fellow upir is the game. To declare you a finger in the Hand of Ruin, an angel sealed in His name. If you are fit, come forward, prostrate intention, and ambition, And be selected to endure the trials of superstition. Let the gauntlet to ascension begin. ⤝✤ ────────────⤛ ⛧ ⤜──────────── ✤⤞

We don't need to stop at Josh

In the deepest of crypts, a deathly pale thing hunches over a bloodless corpse. Taloned fingers sought scalpels and tweezers, embalming oils and twine, fleshing beams and ear splitters. The work is heard, sickly and stomach-dropping, until it was done. What was once a woman became a macabre art piece, one which brought a smile to a fanged mouth.

A batish shape looms as a shadow in the night, on rooftops of the capital and its vassals. Animal-glinted eyes perceive the night, beady blinks that watch, but most importantly, they watched Carter Lockwood. It is not long before this shape disappears into the night upon large wings.

From afar, a peasant man with particularly dead eyes watched Dementio's performances. They find and follow the Count, wherever he might walk, even in his home in Viru. There lies a particularly sinister pondering in his eyes.

Oh lawd, will read in depth and offer feedback.

how is this roleplay friendly @Aesopian

I prefer the slow-burn, I stand with Mordu as a Moroi myself. This amendment cheapens the experience and spiritually, serves to only unnaturally balloon the CA more than it already is. Everything you need is at T3. Comparison is the thief of joy.

A peasant stood over hills as the house burned, illuminating a night sky in red. "Those damn taxmen.."

Frost Witches - [ Moroi Edition ]

[!] A terrible book, bound in materials found in nightmares- and its contents no better. Its cover of thick orc hide, its pages bound together with human sinews. Its pages are soft leather, taken from only the most delicate of elven flesh. An abomination of scripture, it’s ink the rusted brown of dried blood. [Please do not metagame this information. This is NOT COMMON KNOWLEDGE! Find the book IRP!] Pentacle of Pillars ⤝✤ ────────────⤛ ⛧ ⤜──────────── ✤⤞ Five Aspects represent the Five Coşmauri reigning over the Pentaculum Columnarum, each title speaking of their dominion. These descriptions encompass what each Pillar seeks to embody; their role, goals, philosophy, values, and even their section of the House of Monsters. ⤝✤ ────────⤛ ⛧ ⤜──────── ✤⤞ THE FARMER, the cultivator. He watches over His flock as would the twisted shepherd, bloodied crook in hand. Little care does He have for their safety- merely the flavor of its crop. THE GARDENER, the nurturer. She watches over Her garden with sharp shears, and a watering-can of warm blood. Beneath Her care, do Her seedlings sprout and flourish. Beneath Her eye do the rotten branches burn. THE ENFORCER, the corrector. He stands guard over the Cattle alongside a piercing hawk’s gaze, raising His iron fist. Beneath His careful watch is insubordination caught, and beneath His boot is it eradicated. THE DOCTOR, the masked. Life itself does He control- both in abundance and lack there of. With His saw does He cut away imperfections. With His scalpel, shall he punish imperfections. THE TRAPPER, the fortifier. With iron and wit does He craft cruel and clever designs, to both lure and ensnare prey within the House of Monsters. Within the walls does He roam, His prison is without faults. ⤝✤ ────────⤛ ⛧ ⤜──────── ✤⤞ TOGETHER, A FORCE BOTH VILE and formidable. A growing disturbance within the sanctity and peace of the New Lands of Azuras. . . The stench of blood is drifting through time. ⤝✤ ────────────⤛ ⛧ ⤜──────────── ✤⤞ To Reap, to Harvest, to Consume ⤝✤ ────────────⤛ ◈ ⤜──────────── ✤⤞ THE FARMER, agricola THE FARMER IS THE CULTIVATOR, who finds fertile soil to till and tend a harvest. He plants Ruin in subjects malleable to his influence, making monsters of them. A prized crop. For anything not derived from Ruin is undesirable, fallible, scum. To have it? Divinity. Strength. Perfection. To have Ruin is to rule wholly and solely. And the Farmer rules absolutely, over all that is beneath his thumb. TO BE AT THE MERCY of the Farmer is to be perverted, made into food, or something worse than what you were. ⤝✤ ────────⤛ ◈ ⤜──────── ✤⤞ THE HOUSE OF MONSTERS, dominus monstrorum THE HEADQUARTERS FOR the Farmer and its Pillars, an abandoned castle beneath Azuras, repurposed and now characterised by the inexplicable horrors created and housed within, from mongrel vampyres, enslaved lycanthropes, alchemical mutants, magical plagues, bleeding machinery, and sentient plant-life. ALL IS ENCAPSULATED, TRAPPED, CULTIVATED within the reaches of the Farmer’s domain–this vessel of death meant to leave its earthly prison one day and release its subjects on the world. EACH LAYER OF THIS MUSEUM of monstrosities is managed by one of the Farmer’s Pillars, other ascended Vampires of its Clan. Their dominion over this place is equal, yet their roles are unique. ⤝✤ ────────⤛ ◈ ⤜──────── ✤⤞ THE SILENT MANDATE, et tacet mandatum BY VIRTUE OF ITS RESURRECTION, the Farmer must hold itself and its kin accountable for their higher state of living. They are predators outnumbered in a world of prey. WHILE IT TEACHES BRUTALITY and subservience in the pack of lycans or mongrel vampires it cultivates, the Farmer teaches higher vampiredom to be civilized and cunning while also brutal and loyal; Upholding the Codex of the Auspicions and instilling its own mantra, “Silence is Sanctity”. ⤝✤ ────────────⤛ ◈ ⤜──────────── ✤⤞ To Nurture, to Grow, to Cultivate ⤝✤ ────────────⤛ ❦ ⤜──────────── ✤⤞ THE GARDENER, topiarius EVERY GARDEN REQUIRES A GUIDE. The Gardener exists to lead and encourage the Garden, nurturing the roses She plants into thriving brambles. There is nothing more rewarding for She, than to help her seedlings flourish. THE GARDENER SEEKS TO TWIST and prune that which is natural, into that which is supernatural. For what is, can always be greater. Stronger. Perfect. ⤝✤ ────────⤛ ❦ ⤜──────── ✤⤞ THE GREENHOUSE, conservatorium EVERY GARDEN REQUIRES a place to grow. The Greenhouse exists to home the Gardener and Her seedlings. It is a place in which experimentation and discovery thrive, mixing flesh and flora- alchemical and metaphysical. THE GREENHOUSE STORES the Gardener’s botanical samples. It is here that regents for alchemy may be grown, gathered, and stored. IT IS ALSO WHERE THE Gardener’s monstrous plants are grown- twisting brambles of blood-fed roses, vines with snapping maws, and a further plethora of creatures beyond mere mortal imagination. ⤝✤ ────────⤛ ❦ ⤜──────── ✤⤞ THE SEEDS, THE ROOTS, THE FRUITS, semina, radices, fructus THE ROOTS OF OUR GARDEN are anchored deep in bloodied ground. The seeds of our garden will grow into perfect fruits, armed with tooth and claw; venom and poison. THERE IS PERFECTION TO BE FOUND in massacre, for what grows from sanguine soil is to bear the most vibrant roses of all. THERE IS PERFECTION TO BE FOUND in carnage, for what grows from disaster is to bear the strongest branches of all. THERE IS PERFECTION TO BE FOUND in ruin, for what grows from corruption is to bear the purest fruits of all. ⤝✤ ────────────⤛ ❦ ⤜──────────── ✤⤞ To Correct, to Cull, to Punish ⤝✤ ────────────⤛ ☛ ⤜──────────── ✤⤞ THE ENFORCER, exsecutor TO RULE IS NOT MERELY TO FEED, but to punish. The Enforcer exists as the Famer’s iron will made manifest, the arbiter of discipline within the House of Monsters. Where the Farmer cultivates and the Gardener nurtures, the Enforcer corrects – culling weakness, stamping out disobedience, and pruning away any limb that resists Ruin’s design. THE ENFORCER MEASURES WORTH not in words, but in conduct. In how a moroi answers hunger. In how a corcitură obeys command. In how cattle submit to collar and chain. To the Enforcer, every soul in the castle – beast, man vampyre – is a line in a ledger of obedience. Debts of defiance are paid only in blood, bone, and example. TO BE AT THE MERCY of the Enforcer is to be weighed against of Codex of Auspicions and found wanting. The merciful are deemed heretics. The hesitant, traitors. The sentimental, diseased. Only those who embrace Ruin without flinching are spared the lash of correction. ⤝✤ ────────⤛ ☛ ⤜──────── ✤⤞ THE BASTION, praesidium EVERY LAW REQUIRES A STRONGROOM. The Bastion is the Enforcer’s seat: an austere complex buried in the castle’s gut, where stone swallows sound and torches burn low and long. Its halls are lined with cells and cages, training yards and execution pits, drill squares and sermon-chambers. IT IS THAT THE IRON BROTHERHOOD is forged and honed – those guards and watchmen who patrol the Walls, monitor the Traps, and keep the Pastures docile. Within the Bastion, they are drilled for formation, taught when to kneel before their netters and when to break mortal bones without question. THE BASTION IS NOT A HOME, but a crucible. Its floors remember every confession screamed into the stone, every broken oath sealed beneath it. ⤝✤ ────────────⤛ ☛ ⤜──────────── ✤⤞ To Heal, to Bleed, to Create ⤝✤ ────────────⤛ ◉ ⤜──────────── ✤⤞ THE DOCTOR, doctor sanguinis THE ELDEST OF THE FIVE PILLARS, a man who has taken after the infamous Gun'i of Oyashima. One who displays false kindness and warmth, giving others a false sense of security before driving a scalpel into their back. A TWISTED FIGURE WHO WILL not stray away from excessive cruelty where he deems fit, leaving little to no regard for his victims unless strictly necessary. He is someone who wears a mask, or perhaps multiple, both in and outside of the surgery room. ⤝✤ ────────⤛ ◉ ⤜──────── ✤⤞ THE CLINIC, valetudinarium BLOOD IS A PRECIOUS THING, one that must not be wasted. As such, THE CLINIC is one of the most sanitary places in the castle. Large pumps supply only however much blood is needed for a ritual here, and a fine meatgrinder allows for devouring subjects and using 99.99% of their remaining blood, not a drop wasted. IT IS WHERE BLOOD RITUALS, most notably the Rite of Revival, are conducted – the revitalising nature of the most prominent of Moroi rites is where THE CLINIC borrows its name from. ⤝✤ ────────⤛ ◉ ⤜──────── ✤⤞ THE HEART, cor magnum pulsans structurae THE MONSTER’S GREAT BEATING HEART, a complex structure at the heart of THE CLINIC and the House of Monsters as a whole. Though blood quickly loses potency, it still serves as an extravagant storage facility for such, displaying the masses of unused blood and indirectly the masses of prey fed into it. FROM IT, TUBES PUMP THE inert blood throughout the castle – not for a deeper purpose, but to simply give the impression of the structure being alive. ⤝✤ ────────────⤛ ◉ ⤜──────────── ✤⤞ Of Manacles, of Steel, of Walls ⤝✤ ────────────⤛ ♖ ⤜──────────── ✤⤞ THE TRAPPER, auceps CARVED INTO THE MANTEL OF RUIN, there is a saying true to the ways of the Betrayer. The Weak are Meat, and the Strong do Eat. WITHIN THE WALLS OF THE CASTLE, it is the strong that preside over the weak, the butcher who watches over his cattle with a firm hand. THE TRAPPER STANDS a once-man twisted and warped in Ruin. Beholden in knowledge that power cloaks in the unassuming, the forgotten, and the ignored which stand as the greatest threat to delicious fools none the wiser. Thus he skulks the land, not cloaked in shadow, but in plain sight - stalking the next unfortunate soul who falls into his trap. ⤝✤ ────────⤛ ♖ ⤜──────── ✤⤞ THE MANACLES, manacula IT IS NOT UNBEKNOWNST for vampyres to fall to their most baseline instincts, to hunt and find their prey as a lion or bird of prey may. Trekking through tall grass and through mud, giving chase as animals do. Yet, it is in the collective camaraderie found within covens to grow - to cultivate. JUST AS THE COW was domesticated, so too is the lowly human. Humans found to be milquetoast, weak, or even sympathetic to their betters are housed within the dungeons of the castle - the Pastures. It is the purpose of the Trapper to find, capture, and ensure the pacification of each human unlucky enough to find themselves in the walls. ⤝✤ ────────⤛ ♖ ⤜──────── ✤⤞ THE STEEL, in ferro A GOOD TRAP IS NOT SIMPLY one which harms - it is one which fools. To lull into a false sense of security, to wait and bide until the hunted least expects it. It is thus, within the castle, that traps are rare, hidden, and vicious. PITFALLS, CEILING-MACES, false doors, and dead-end hallways. Traps aid in the defense of the castle, yet they are not the only means to ward off the unwanted, or to cage prey. An appropriate defense, accompanied then with a standing guardforce, makes up the Steel of the castle. RANGING FROM THE LOWLY VAMPYRE to those of greater aristocracy, the Iron Brotherhood adorns itself as the guards and peacemakers within the Walls. The Trapper overlooks the defenses, and the force behind it, ensuring that only the foolish and meek find a way into the Darkness, whilst keeping out the profane holy, the Light. ⤝✤ ────────⤛ ♖ ⤜──────── ✤⤞ THE WALLS, muros JUST AS LIFEBLOOD FLOWS through mortal veins, bodies flow through a castle. It must be cared for, with halls open when needed, or sealed shut when required. Construction, destruction, expansion, masonry, and stone carving are the means to which we sculpt our home. THE NEEDS OF THE VAMPYRE are many, and thus their home must serve such requirements faithfully. It is a job of the Trapper to mold the castle to the needs of the coven, or to fashion abominations and machines capable. DEFENSES, RANGING FROM MOATS to basins for burning oil must be fashioned to defend the Walls. Similarly, damage done to the walls is to be patched by the Trapper. ⤝✤ ────────────⤛ ♖ ⤜──────────── ✤⤞ Credits:

"A beast made to rule gets it, doesn't declare it." Through the alleyways of Azuras, the silhouette of a man read and scoffed.

I stand with wowj ✊

I'll give you whats wrong with the Naz community, so much so, I support this amendment. Currently Naztherak suffer, as it's inherent and ontological evil nature is shifted by the current players. Majority are cursed children, elves, or adjacent, hellbent upon pursuing SOL RP or romance, such even extending to their demons. Who in roleplay are told, "babysit my children :3", "please serve me tea.". Naztherak will never truly prosper if people aren't willing to fulfill the archetype that comes with it. Warlocks and Witches, not baby mamas and widows/widowers.

Frederick rose from battle again, his body taking time to heal. But as it remains, he was the last Frederick standing..