Damnit_Delmar

How sleepy orcs and ologs be

The Diplomat of ages past, looked in pride at his friend as he joined briefly through, nothing but a nod given in passing. Perhaps a sign that he had indeed, been watching over him all those years, and within a flash to whatever after-life the former Rex would go, the blind adunian would vanish, his sentence still having yet to be served in the eternal wastes.

The line of the Countess, found the wayward missive, a hand going to his stubble as he pondered such for a moment. Foot tapping lightly against the ground, for while he was a Delmar, the blood of the Redfist Clan did flow through his veins. "Oh what to do, oh what to do." The blindman did muse, a grin slowly growing as the wheels spun and turned in his brain.

A long dead adunian, of near a century past, greeted the halfling with a weary smile. A blindfold still ever present across his features, as he offered a wave in his direction. "Come old friend, we've much to discuss"

A Soulless thing toils and twists within the vat of liquid. Though he would not know for years to come, a twisted grin did grow, for the Sinner had been slain.

A Single Gaze *These Events are not public knowledge, only those who experienced or are told, should know of such* Art Credit - Ivan Aivazovsky It had been a year, a year since his sight had been ripped and stripped away by his own hands. A year since the dark had graced him, and a year since all he could see was that murky abyss. At first, that nothingness had been a comfort for him, for it granted respite from the lingering shadows. From the creeping figures that taunted his vision, from the faces beneath the waves, and even from the sickening bodies in the deep blue. Yet the peace was a deceit, it was a fallacy from the start, a lie to lure him into a false sense of comfort. For just as soon as he had grown accustomed to that lack of sight, did the nightmares once more arise. For every day of respite and rest, did a night's worth of horror and anxiety creep into his gut. The moment his head rested upon that silk, that creeping terror started to build. For what was worse, was not the ability to see the horror around him, but being unable to view that which lurked around. His ears would pick up on the whispers and slight creaks, his nostrils picked up on the scent of brine and blood, and his fingers often felt the damp remnants of whatever passed by. Yet tonight started differently for the Delmar… Just as he had done everyday, for the last year, the Harren'hil placed his cane by the doorway. His hand extended out to use the wall as a guide, before pulling him partly closer to the bed. Taking a seat next to it, his gaze panned to the wall, his mind still reeling from the events of the day. “It would be easier if I told you what he wasn’t involved in, he was a man of many secrets” “He had eyes, hosh eyes, weird eyes, nub eyes. Worms where in them, he cut them out and gave them to Ixris” “You remind me much of him” A sharp knock drew him out of his stupor, the noise coming from the crimson glazed window, followed by an abrupt meeting from the Mali’aheral. A matter about an egg, one vibrant in hue, yet hidden amongst the woods. The Mali’dun merely waived such off to over-caution, despite his recent encounters with the odd things that lived in the wilds. Yet it would be a lie if he said his mind was fully invested in the conversation, instead it drifted it off. Focused upon the conversation he had been in, only hours prior. After a few questions, only spoken due to reflex, his own thoughts managed to escape him, and so the ‘aheral grew curious “Meditate for what?” “To get some answers” The Adunian took a deep breath, his mind clearing as he sat on that bed of silk, breath slowing down as began to mutter a slow prayer. His words at first stalwart, yet soon did those syllables become shaken, that newly gained nervousness kicking into each word. “That which lurks in the deep, I pray unto you for guidance in those darkened and false waters, I pray and apologize. For my arrogance and for my outrage. I pray forgiveness and I pray for repentance, to return that which I so foolishly gave without true thought. For a chance, to see as my forefathers saw.” Silence, followed by a soft weight and pressure around his skull, his head flicked around nervously. Though such was futile with the inability to actually, and truly, see what was around him. After what felt like centuries, the once slightly crazed tone of the ‘aheral resounded out once more. His tone, holding an ominous and knowing tone to it. “So your sight shall return. Sleep Reynard, and the blessing from the selfish shall come in time.” “The Selfish?” “Yes, for even the selfish give away their blessing, but not without payment.” “Then so shall payment be given” Just as he spoke, a yawn exited from him, his head growing lighter and lighter as he felt the weight of the day start to crash upon him. His mind drew deeper into the abyssal pool that was his psyche, the rhythmic breathing, slowly creating a soothing beat that caused the praying pirate to slowly enter the dominion of dreams… Art Credit- Keid-89 It was that overwhelming smell that drew the corsairs attention, his eyes opened in what felt like forever, and he was greeted to the scene around him. He was not in the water, but rather on it, his feat grounded upon the wet wooden boards of a long galleon. Sails of crimson Rh’thoraen red blew in the stormy breeze, as water washed above the sides. From what he could see on deck, not a soul resided upon the ship, not even one controlling the wheel. The ship crashed and shook throughout the murky waters, as the Harren’hil used the mast for support. The sound of the bird drew his attention upwards, his gaze landing upon a crow, eyes of what looked like black ink. Staring dead into the Adunian, before it flew off, landing near the entrance to the bottom deck. “Well. . .at least I'm not drowning.” The young man attempted to use his own humor to combat the slowly growing dread within his gut, the corsair taking tentative steps forward across the slippery wood. His gaze, or what he perceived of it, looked about the area in a mixture of shock and horror. The corners of his vision, continuing still see images, not blurred shadows. But tendrils of writhing mass and flesh, that threatened to tear away at whatever was granting him this sight, this glimpse back into what could be. He drew closer, nearer to the doorway, before a gloved hand reached out. Pulling open the door, and revealing to him the stairway down. Shadows clung to the corners of the staircase, the flashes of lightning, only granting brief respite from the dark. Taking a shaky breath in, and then a shaky breath out, the adunian slowly began his descent down the stairs. His gaze sweeping around, before he entered the second deck, hues catching onto the brief flash of purple that swiftly descended down to the next floor. “HEY! COME BACK HERE!” A sharp caw, alerted his attention to behind him, his gaze catching sight of the black feathered crow, soaring downwards from the stairwell. Flying past him, only to land directly where the purple coated figure had traveled to. “This. . .isn’t suspicious at all.” The sharp crash of lightning, caused him to hurriedly make his way across the wooden floor, his gaze flicking to the cannon openings. Another flash, and he stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening as he gazed to the blackened ocean sea. “No. . .No it can’t be-'' He walked over, a gloved hand shaking as he extended it outwards towards the water logged wood. Before his gaze shifted downwards, towards that dark murky water. At first, he saw nothing, the sea froth and foam, covering what lay beneath the rampant and chaotic waves. Ease settled into him, his head shaking as he went to turn his gaze away. When suddenly, another flash erupted from the heavens, and to his horror did it reveal the truth behind the waves. Bloated bodies, bound in chains of algae and barnacles, shifting throughout the water. The pirate stumbled back, his breath ragged and heart racing in fear as he looked to the entrance that lay before him. He quickly scrambled and clawed his way up to his feat, rushing towards the door, and slamming it open. Revealing yet another set of staircases, these ones he leaped down, near crushing into the wooden wall. Yet still he managed, his gaze flicking about as he remained on the floor, before finally landed upon something. A figure, bearing dark hair, and wearing what looked to be a blindfold. His visage turned to greet him, a smile splaying over his features, before he slowly dipped into the waters of the hull. Bubbles spewing to the surface, before nothing else occurred. He took a moment to gaze at the dark waters, before he slowly stood up, the man taking a few tentative steps forward to get closer to the waters. With every step, a queasy feeling graced his stomach, something sickening and foul. Once he drew near the water's edge, he slowly peaked over the side, gazing into that reflective pool. Yet, it was also the first time he saw those eyes of his. Shimmering orbs of watery ash, dripped with foul water, faux tears dripped down his face as he gripped his cheeks. Fingers gripping around the eyes, as all he could do is yell in both shock and terror. With the sharp noise, did a lumbering sound resound from the gullet of that ship, and tendrils of writhing white flesh tore through the saltwater. Grasping onto the Delmar, and dragging him in. His body tense, expecting pain, torture unlike anything he could ever conjure. Yet, such never arrived, the only thing of terror being that infinite expanse of murky darkness. It was only after what felt like centuries, did a voice finally echo throughout his psyche. A single phrase, for the Adunian to ingrain into his mind and memory. Art Credit - Diana Franco “See through the drowned, Delmar” A single eye, a hundred eyes, a million eyes. It was like viewing through a hundred different operas, all in a singular moment. What should have been hours of listening, experienced in a singular second. Yet this sight, this feeling, was all but temporary. It did not, but drew a focus upon that crow. The every watchful bird turned to gaze at the deep blue sea, it’s wings stretched outwards, before it slowly lifted itself from the railing. Soaring upwards, higher and higher, before it looked down and dived towards him. Just as he waited for it to crash into the waves, his vision distorted, replaced by an ever hungry orange eye. The likes of which peered into the adunian greedily. He awoke in a pool of his own sweat, breathing ragged and harsh, as he gripped his eyes. A harsh pain resting in his empty sockets, as a nauseating feeling gripped his stomach. His mind reeling over the events, and images of that ever important dream. It left him with many a question, a hundred different thoughts running through his mind. After a moment his hand parted away from his visage, the hundreds of questions, diminishing to tens, and then dozens, before finally focusing upon a singular query. What would be the price, he would have to pay?

Not at all, I just took note of it being the only real necro modification that doesn't have a drawback. If you look through the other modifications, all hold a certain drawback, and its specified in the lore that they should have one. Mummification for example, gives life but slows them down Durgrmail gives communion with the dead easier, while holding an inability to talk normally Ghoul Flesh allows you to plague touch things easier, at the cost of risking infecting others. If you look at the lore itself it even states "Blinded to life, but capable of seeing the woes of death, a seer wields the power to see how much lifeforce a living being has." Wouldn't you agree then that it makes little to no sense to have one be able to see things that hold zero Lifeforce?

With the nature of Modifications, they do become permanent to the character. Talked a little with Zarsies about it, however he mentioned so long as it just had it pick up on Lifeforce it should be fine. Though for the most part, it is redundant with for example, if a Necromancer becomes a MA Seer. All in all, the amendment is made to actually 'blind' rather then just give a slight boost to ones vision, and it still allows for said flavor of being blind and being able to pursue Seerdom. Should one desire to go down that route.

Original Lore: Purpose Modifications are supposed to hold a cost, however out of all of them, Corpsevision only gives while not actually taking anything. So I would like to suggest a modification to the current redlines Original Amendment

Inside of that long glass tube, did the once adunian rest, his mind in a deep slumber. Unaware, now and perhaps forever, of the Shepherds fall.

The Delmar would sadly not know, perhaps not now, and perhaps not ever. A shame the two would not be able to smoke anymore green ever again.

The Horrors of the Drowned “So cruel. She’s just a little girl” Those were the words that the Harren’hil fell to, the words that rang through his ears like bells tolling. His gaze still saw that plastered and pristine face, the face of one who had died many moons ago. It was a horrific visage, thinned lips, and taught skin. Yet worse, was those blue lips muttering. A litany, a rambling, a myriad of different vowels that soon merged into that single and dreadful sentence. “See, as I see” The Delmar felt himself fall, almost endlessly into that pool of dark briney water. His gaze continued to search, and continued to gaze into the ocean depths. Salt blinded his eye, and forced it shut, causing him to feel the pressing of binds against his body and form. They were slick, yet strong, chains that were bound in the fresh and vigorous algae. He attempted to free himself, attempting to rid himself of the shackles that drug him to the floor. “The wise know of the waters truth” His eye, that singular ashen hue, was forced open and upon it. Did it gaze into that endless expanse, yet what he saw was not wisdom nor writing. But rather, the endless expanse of bodies and corpses that littered the ocean floor. Bones of all forms, covered in all matter of coral and algae, shifted their hollowed gaze to the bound Delmar. Their sockets bubbled with water, as they all cheered and jeered forward. “Join us, Join us, Join us” Every utterance of a word from the undead caused a shiver down the Delmars spine, his gaze shifting about as he attempted to snap and struggle out of his watery binds. Yet no luck occurred, his body was still slowed by the weight. His breathing grew more and more fearful, as he pushed against his binds, struggling to escape from his predicament in the sea. Yet with every struggle, with every resistance, he sank further and further. Bubbles escaped past every breath, as he felt something constrain around his throat. Bound hands drifting to the top of the water, wishing and praying to break the surface. Yet just as it did, every time he tried, the voices continued upon their taunt and chat. “Stare into the Deep, Delmar” That hue of ash would search, a glint of bloodied blue, nearing that socket. An edge of blade that neared the corrupted sclera. He thrashed against the chains, against the waters, and against the inevitable pain of it… He awoke in his bed, his gaze flicking about as he felt that moisture clung to his skin, his breath running quick as he clutched his head. The manic and figment whisperers, running rampant from within his mind as he gave a manic chuckle. “Just a dream. . .It is just, a drea-” He would stop, his gaze panning over to his sleeve, his eye widening as he saw the strand of rotted and decrepit hair that clung to his attire. His look, contorted to the face of fear, of terror and horror. The once egotistical man, now having reached that point breakage. He lurched from the bed, and stumbled towards the blade, a palm grasping for the simple tool as he brought it up to his features. “IS THIS WHAT YOU WANT! IS THIS WHAT YOU SEEK!” As all those who have fallen to the whims of madness, to dread and anxiety, so did the Delmar fall into the path and pits of his forefather. For within his weakened grasp, did that hue of malefic ash, stare into the deep blue of the seaside waters. Just as the Adunian had done, and would do, for the rest of those days.

An Inquisitor of the Holy Church scans over the missive, giving a slow nod as he rose up from his abode in Minitz. "Let us ready our blessed blades, for no lizard should reside in the holy lands of GOD"

Ah good question, in the short term, not really no. While they can kind of flesh-smith a fake body and use draught of incite, from what I have gathered, it is not entirely effective. Cults are a given, yes, same with all forms of dark magics. However as far as seeing visions, that is a big no, unless they are somehow a barrowborn or some other vision seeing FA/Magic. In terms of what they gain? Well for starters, if they where a seer prior to being a lich, becoming a lich doesn't change much in terms of abilities. As with the current write, the only 'abilities' really are the immortality of becoming an undead, gaining another necro mod slot, as well as necromancy turning from a four slot to a three slot magic. Additionally as of current, only voidal magic and misc magic is compatible with Arch-Lich. So what do liches gain from becoming a seer? The just general ability to see visions is a first. Additionally they gain access to things such as sow fallacy as well as the ability for charade(Being able to theme their magic, most certainly the healing portion, as some 'holy' cure. Allows you to trick and deceive better). Appraising items is also a wonderful thing, searching for magical artifacts to perhaps conduct schemes. Then you've got Reading, the general ability to view and gain inferences on an individual's motives/emotions. Then with the potential addition and ability to use second slot seer, such as being able to 'manipulate fate' with large eldritch prophecies. Scrying for more information within the world, and Heith-Hedran, there is a whole lot that a lich would gain the ability and access to do. Wanted to just briefly comment on this, truthfully with things like the Wights and Machine Spirits for example, makes total sense imo. Would be really cool, only reason I would not think something should be capable is due to 'full' slot system. Aka things like Darkstalker and Automata Crafter made Automata, not holding either a soul, or their being entirely focused upon one thing/soul being lessened to a tremendous degree. Either way, thanks again for the good questions, they are very fair points that I'm glad I can talk/explain out on here

Even other lore such as templarism says divine magics aren't compatible and so on. Vaseek's influence is hidden to all, so it would make sense for a machine spirit. I was told to make a MART for it; since they can't become Seers for the same reasons of the lich peeps. The no-real eyes thing Honestly agreed, tho in regards to lich, it's funny because nothing stops you from having eyes. There is even modification, like corpse eye, that give you eyes that make you part blind. I agree tho that machine spirits should be able to. Since I know of some folk who are Automata, where a machine priest aesthetic would be dope

I would, however I do believe somewhere in Automata lore it states Machine Spirit incompatibility, due to Gaurmiders(However spell his name) influence. Though I'll be honest, I do think they should be compatible, perhaps it's something to bring up and talk to more experienced Automata Crafters.

To my knowledge, and I could be wrong, many of the others that are incompatible. Stem from either the inability for slot count, Zarakal for example, take 5 slots to ascend. Likewise with Frost Mothers, Tree Lords(I could be wrong with this). Vargs and Wights. As for the others, I do believe those stem from them no longer holding any slots or holding a greater soul capable of magic. Big difference however is that where most CAs bump up the slot count,Lich reduces it, thereby theoretically allowing for them to take on more magic. However in the current write, that magic is sadly limited to voidal and misc magic only. Hence why with something like this, it not only would allow for greater themes(since I know some necro players, like to go with 'void is heresy' theme). But genuinely doesn't do anything too crazy. Though I do thank you for the feedback, good critiques

I would not! Edits shall be added to help the epiphytes!

Simple change, and suggestion, all I would like to recommend is the changing of Seer Compatibility Current Compatibility New Compatibility Reason The simple reason, is because over all the concept is very interesting and unique. Imagine the aesthetic of an old, all knowing lich, one who masterminds behind the scenes and uses his influence with both his living students and fellow undead brethren, to mastermind large decade old schemes. Another concept might be a cult leader of a group of humans, one who is under the guise of this 'Old Patron' who in actuality is just some undead necromancer, creating random cults to go against one another. Mechanically speaking however, Necromancers already hold the capability to slot into it, un-impeded and un-hindered. Likewise once you become a lich, you gain an additional slot free, leaving not only viability to progress fully as one. But also, offering no real issues or complications, not only due to the ability to place in eye modifictions.(Such as Corpse Sight), but also just being able to corpse-craft eyes upon the body of the lich. Lastly, due to the nature of Vaseek and his nonchalance with all forms of entities gaining his 'blessing', it still would comply thematically with lore to allow such. Big thanks to Zarsies for giving me greenlight to post this

A heavily disfigured Inquisitor nods his head, a proud smile forming upon his crude features. "God has provided us with a glorious success, and yet, we have only just begun. Wer Rastet, Der Rostet" The still squire, would sign the lorraine, before he continued his rounds around the ruined Lectors Temple, in search of further things to fix.

Delusion of the Deep So did the young Delmar awake, in a pool of sweat and anxiety, ears ringing from the thunderous lightning still as he crawled backwards to the top of his bed. Those whispers, those chants, those calls of the sea resounding through his mind. His eye forever held a glimmer of that shift, that subtle movement that crept away from line of sight, that slithered into the inky mass of shade before him. “Shut up” Yet the whispers never did halt, the jeers and cheers, the soft words of mock praise that adorned his every silent moment. Like a record on loop, the slow hushes of his psyche, goaded him forwards from the bed. His bare feet, touching against the dirtied floorbeds, tactile feeling of something damp and rotted. Curling between his toes,as he turned his attention to the red paned window. It was here, high that in that tower of dark stone, that he could gaze into the waters. The lights of that shamistic city, glinting against the waters, the rippling waves that lay bare in front of the young man. Those hues of colors and lights, shifting, almost staring back at the high up Harren’hil. “You know what must be done, don’t you?” The Delmar gripped his head, his cranium thudding with an erupting pain, head slowly shaking as that damp wood started to feel squishy and waterlogged. His head slowly did shake, as he muttered a series of frantic statements. His back facing the red paned window, as he felt the water slowly grow to his ankles. “No- NO! I’m not going to do that- I just need, just need some sleep” He attempted to forgot the water that started to rise, that started to cling to his skin like chains, and bind to his wrists like shackles. He resisted, resisted that ever growing urge to sink to fall to the pits of that emotion, that thought, his thoughts. Yet they would not stop, for just as he had resolved to believe such. Did the voice call his name again, goad him to the direction. “Look at me” So did he turn his head, his ashen gaze befalling upon that horrific spectacle. For he was not greeted with kindness nor kinship, but rather faced with that still visage, that bloated floating corpse of himself. Lips blue from the loss of blood, and eye near bulging, parted and scared lips. Leaving the Delmar with one last set of words. “Look.At.Me” So did the young Delmar awake, in a pool of sweat and anxiety, ears ringing from the thunderous lightning still as he crawled backwards to the top of his bed. Those whispers, those chants, those calls of the sea resounding through his mind. His eye forever held a glimmer of that shift, that subtle movement that crept away from line of sight, that slithered into the inky mass of shade before him. . . OOC NOTE

"Seems the elf f*ckers, found a way to deepen the hole. . . ohhhhhhh well, seems like their asking for it" A corsair most cursed by the Arts of the Heith-Hedran, cackled upon his propped chair, a charred skull in his palm as he twistdd his ashen hues to the burnt ivory. Lifting it up to his ear, he would take a moment to listen, nodding slowly as he began to formulate that plan.

"The fires of that tree, have burned brightly for long enough. Let us snuff such out." A Fallen King would begin to chuckle, his gaze panning over to those warriors of winter, giving a mock expression of glee as he readied those foul forces