Damnit_Delmar

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

The Lord Commander of those frozen armies of GOD would linger upon the crests of the icy peaks, his arctic blue hues scanning over those knights and soldiers. "Pyzm undere Yathnz" With the chant ringing it, the commander would nod for those loyal soldiers to begin preparing, the army of the Empress, only having just begun their work.

A figure of cold plate and tattered blue cloth, would slowly stand upon the crest of those frozen peaks, a spear slowly rising. A banner slowly unfurling, revealing the image of those twin headed crows. "Blessed be we, who fight for the winter winds of the Empress. Vailor Morghulis!"

Look at that Northern screenshot tho! Hyped asf!

Just using the same wording of the Infallible Curse for this, as the previous write

Archlich The Venerable Gravelords “Let me show you the countenance of the HEITH-HEDRAN, born of conjunction, whose sons breathe air of long darkness. We stand now, in unbound breadth, and take sight of shadows once banished between sky and earth.” - the Red Prophet, Geitheros Most mortal’s have sought to escape the cold clutches of death, from those humans who sought to escape their short lives, to the elves that sought eternal power. Each one bore a reason to escape their own mortality, and so when the mad attempted to become something greater, they turned to the very creations they rose, the undead, the infallible and cursed. Through cannibalizing the bodies and reagents of the greater and weak, mortal descendents were able to subvert death. Yet, as one grows older, they learn to enhance the ritual and gift. Hone their once weakened bodies, to achieve feats that they had not considered prior. Initially pioneered during Geitheros' tutelage before being banished from Rh'Thor, to eventually raise figures such as the King in Crimson, Ostromir, the Rat King, Ludwig and the mad jester, Azkholdun. Every lich holds a desire, and thus every lich holds a unique strain to their immortality. Through further tinkering with their body, soul, and mind., so does the once mortal weaver; ascend to Arch Lichdom. Physiology “'We are born, Feeble and weak, given nothing save languish in the hereafter. Far, far from paradise. Yet such too, is remedied by mine touch'” - The King in Crimson, Ostromir The shrewd Archlich can take many shapes; ranging from fleshy half-skeletons draped in ceremonial shrouds, walking corpses covered in linen as mummified demons, or the rotted, gaunt image they held in life. Pinnacles of unliving flesh and bone, an Archllich can choose to even fleshsmith their body so long as it is within average human or elven proportions. That stated however, one would find that as an Archlich, they hold boundless stamina. Making them incapable of being physically tired. Yet, such priests were not meant to fight, this would lead them with the capability of only being able to utilize light weaponry. This is additionally coupled with a unique resistance against all forms of weather. Extreme sources of heat, and likewise the body not succumbing to the extreme duress of frost. Redlines Archliches are restricted to strength similar to a voidal mage, making them only capable of fighting with lighter weaponry as well as making them incapable of wearing plate or half-plate armor. Archliches find themselves highly resistant to piercing and slashing attacks. Should they be attacked with blunt weapons, they would take twice as much damage. Should they be attacked directly in the head with a hammer, they would find their vessel instantly destroyed. Archliches are immune to all forms of mundane and alchemical heat and cold, due to their bones being composed of Dragons Bone, as well as the magical essence granted by the blood of hags. Mentality More often than not, the Archlich is violent, cruel, and sadistic. Their minds have been perverted by their undeath into the hunger that had consumed them, making use of their twisted bodies and powers to fuel their will. Even the wisest among these powerful undead now are numb to the realities of life. They will find no empathy to the humanity they once bore, often resorting to feigning moral codes if any semblance of who they were remains. Despite this, these beings are not inherently evil, nor do they exist hellbent on seeing the world burn. Regardless of how Archliches have earned a name aberrant monstrosities and coldhearted perversions of undeath, many exist with logical convictions that can give a facetious semblance of morality—forging false identities to feign the idea of life, now lost. The Infallible Curse Those afflicted with the Infallible Curse—some in their pursuit of immortality and others against their will—are forever cursed to walk the realm. When the undying are disposed of, their soulbound lifeforce lingers in the world, unable to find peace beyond in the soulstream or the certainty of Ebrietaes. Doomed to the fate of the mortal plane, this energy coalesces over a year before it finds a new host to inhabit. After this time has passed, the residual energy of the slain undead is forced to once again inhabit a random corpse, the soul forcing upon it the burdens of the body the undead once had. Even for those who willingly succumb to the fate of the Infallible Curse, it exists as a hellish purgatory for the damned dead, as one may find undeath is not so easily escaped. Redlines Darkstalkers and Archliches can never be truly slain. Normal hard PK rules still apply, such as killing one’s self or otherwise. An undead that PK’s according to these rules cannot be brought back. After 30 IRL minutes from the point of their death, the Archlich or Darkstalker will inhabit a new body. This body takes the augments of one’s soul, whether it be a necromantic modification or the capacity to wield mighty powers of undeath. Dying takes a toll on one’s psyche when the once again awake to find themselves in a new body, capable of causing one to feel numb and disillusioned to reality. This process does not require the assistance of a necromancer. A body is just found, where the undead simply awakes with their new body narratively in Cloud Temple or a soulstone pillar they are mechanically bound to. Abilities So the lich began to carve and sculpt his next creation, a construct of carnage to aid in a unknown war Magical Body With the body of the Archlich consisting of rare and valuable Dragons Bone, the once mortal would find that the strain upon their soul severely weakened. In fact, almost seeming to add a bountiful source of power within the Archlich. However, not all sources of greater power may enjoy these old beings. Flesh Facade Being masters of flesh and form, a lich may disguise themselves back to what they once looked like. For the role of a Necromancer is to be a deceiver and manipulator, and with the ability to bear false flesh, it allows such individuals to blend into societies to gather their contacts and disciples. Corpse Courier An Archlich may choose to use the long deceased as an act of communing with those who happen to be leagues and miles away. Whether it be via an old crumbling skull, or the carcass of a recently slain beast, or even through the mindless husk of one of their fallen soldiers. The Elders Presence There is a tangible presence to those that have achieved the occult arts of undeath, one such that not only causes respite for the dead, but fear for the living. One may choose to suppress this aura, so as to hide themselves amongst the common folk, or may cause such to show and spread strength for the dead and fear for the living. Strength of the Damned Archliches are craftsmen, creators, and kings. All who hold the power and respect to take and modify their form as they please. As such, a Gravelord may choose to find some way to further grant themselves power, for every scholar is unique in their desire. General Redlines Archliches exist as undead creatures of necromancy with capabilities to study other magic. Archliches regain the modification they had as a necromancer, if they had one. As undead, Archliches are unable to sire living children and FTB romantically An Archlich possesses the physical strength similar to a voidal mage, completely unable to adorn metal-plated armor. Striking an Archlich in the skull instantly kills their current vessel. Being touched by sunlight is painful, and eventually feels like fire on living skin if unshrouded. Archliches are just as vulnerable to mundane weapons, and are not any more adverse to gold or silver compared to living beings. Credits Writer - SilvertheDM Punctuation - boughtabride Writing Help - Krunos10, Lockages, Zarsies, femurlord Art - Pinterest Original Lore Writer - dard Purpose

The squire and inquisitor initiate, blinks at the missive as he looked over it. Wondering as to why his help had not been recorded in the missive as well."Why was I not informed of any of this?" The burnt man frowned, a sigh escaping him as he put the missive away.

Let the bug, bug out

A Soulless Husk returns from his trip to the Caravan, bearing with him that worthwhile and bountiful prize of Skelt Remains, his intentions set on returning with more to offer the wonderful merchants.

So did that Husk peer down at the missive, that Lord Commander humming as he passed his wizzened digits upon the paper. "Oh how wonderful, just the thing I need as of current" He then once more turned his attention to that chassis, the now tinkerer finalizing upon that hulking construct. For he had soldiers to prepare, if he where to fight such a beast.

From the north did a man look over the missive, having ripped it from one of the boards within the ker city. His blue gaze shifting over the lettering, and from it, did he find his lips turning. While incapable of fully feeling, he had found some humor in the missive. "Solving one problem, with another, I'm going to enjoy this disaster" From that, did the humorless noise of a chuckle escape past his marred lips. For if not for his condition, he would surely find true and proper joy in the news, from the punishment of this once ally of his.

Looks pretty cool, +1

A squire looks to the old ruins of the kingdom of Canon, his gauntleted hands raised, as signed forth the lorraine. His hands clasping together as he bowed his head. "While one foe may be defeated, another joins the fray. But GOD shall guide us, and shall embrace us in his light and mercy, and shall aid us in delivering his wroth upon the foul darkspawn" Unclasping his hands, he would grab onto the heavy tower shield he had wielded during the fight, lifting it up from the charred sands as he gazed towards the slowly drifting sun. Awaiting for what the new day would bring.