Damnit_Delmar

https://www.lordofthecraft.net/forums/topic/228106-rh039thoraen-necromancy-ta-silverthedm/

So it begins... 1/3

Join Golden Bone Inc. today

MC Name:

         SIlvertheDM

Character's Name:

         Reynard Pharamir Delmar

Character's Age:

         Old

Character's Race:

         Adunian

Link to your accepted MA:

         https://www.lordofthecraft.net/forums/topic/225791-necromancy-ma-silverthedm/?tab=comments#comment-1979785

What magic(s) will you be teaching?

         Rh'thoraen Necromancy

Describe this magic or a creature as a whole:

Rh’thoraen Necromancy is a Dark Magic, focused upon the creation of tools and creatures via lifeforce. From cursed objects that hinder the mind, and plagues that sow havoc on the body. Summoning skeletons, flesh golems, and large titanic aberrations. To the direct manipulation of flesh and lifeforce. It is a 4 slot magic that permanently connects the individual to what is known as the Heith-Hedran, a hellish realm that is connected to the Ebrietas. Through this connection, a Necromancer not only grows a deep addiction for lifeforce, thus forcing them on a diet solely of raw meats, but also outwardly ages and withers the body at twice the rate a normal individual would. Thus causing a human in their early 30s to outwardly appear as if he was in his 60s

Are there different sections or subsections of magic? Can those be elaborated upon?

There are several subsections of Rh'thoraen Necromancy, none requiring any additional slots to be filled in order to learn such. With Black Alchemy, only requiring the user to hold an FA in the alchemy Feat. 

Maledictions

The fine control of filling and taking lifeforce. From the old arts of Darkening that steal lifeforce, the injection of foreign lifeforce that creates branding, the crude control of using lifeforce like thread for cauterization, or the overflowing of lifeforce which results in unstable flesh leading to bursting. 

Fleshsmithing

The creation of undead, from the manipulation of bone and flesh, to the creation of undead servants. Such examples being as small as an undead beast, to as grand and horrific as a Flesh Golem. The greatest and peak of a Necromancers craft, resulting in a titanic aberration of flesh and viscera through the Rite of Aberration. 

Pestilence 

The manipulation and creation of foul plagues and disease, often used to taint large regions or create plagued armaments and provisions. 

Pale Curses

The twisting of lifeforce to create negative banes on individuals, either through directly and temporarily influencing them, binding and forcing a longer change in the natural lifeforce flow, or through creating a trinket that twists lifeforce over time and use. 

Thaumaturgy

Group rituals, whether it be just solely as a group, raising their fellow kindred and coven. To communing with long dead spirits, or forcefully extracting liquid lifeforce from a poor soul. To the more intricate Sacraments, such as the raising of undead Darkstalker and mystical Drauger, or the creation of tears to the Heith-Hedran. 

Black Alchemy

The mixing of alchemy and occultism, Black Alchemy is a subsect of the alchemical that focuses on the mixing and creation of products linked to LIfeforce. From potions that extend the lives of the damned at an addictive cost, to purifying potions able to rid the body of plague and malady. 

Can you give an example of a casting emote, of a spell of your choice?

Darkening

The Necromancer would raise his palm upwards, his palm slowly swirling with ebony smog, the magic bearing flecks of his purple aura. As he sat there, his gaze would pan towards the chained prisoner. A bored hum escaped him as he strolled forward. 

“You will make a fine Fertilizer now, worry not.” The ebony clouds would come to find themselves wrapping around the throat of the individual. Soon his own spindly digits digging themselves into the poor man's flesh.

A howl of mercy erupted from the hoarse vocals of the victim, his flesh soon coming to gray and crack, blood starting to spill from the rotten wound as the victim would feel a pain akin to burning molten glass needles. His Lifeforce, or lack of such, causing him to feel lethargy and tiredness. 

“Easy now, always hate the loud racket from this.” Soon the shouts came to a halt, the dark magic having well sent the prisoner into a state of pained sleep, a single unit of lifeforce stripped from them, instead used to fuel the foul arts of the occult craftsmen. 

Can you give an example of a teaching-emote (interacting with another) of a spell of your choice?

Rite of the Oculus

“Now then, today we shall be learning the complex craft of oculus binding.” Before him, stood those two students of his, one eager and one uncaring as always. The Necromancer smiled as he watched the two novices complete construction of their wretched corpses. First, he would raise that empty and priceless jewel, the man coming to speak in a loud and commanding tone.

“First, channel and fill your gem or trinket with lifeforce.” Dark smog began to build up within the priceless gem, ebony smoke billowing and flowing around the palm of the occult craftsmen.

“Visualize, imagine it to be an anchor, something that will tether your corpse to you.” Soon the two acolytes followed suit, their own tendrils of smoke starting to fill the gem before them as they started to each create their first proper Oculus.

“Good, now focus, link the Oculus to the corpse. This is the chain, the link that allows you control over your rotten servants.” His words blossomed fruit, and soon the two began to slowly tether and bind the undead. The rotten corpses starting to shake and shiver, as limbs began to shift and move. Soon the two young necromancers would find that their glorious creations began to rise, the limbs twisting and contorting to lend proper shape.

“Focus on it, bend the meager will of the mindless to you, and create your soldier. For these husks, are nothing more than puppets for future use.” The corpses would start to lash out, the students soon finding their control growing stronger, before both undead slowly came to rise. Now under the whims and control of their new masters.

“Congratulations, you have created your first bit of controlled life. Next lesson, the creation of tools of plague.” 

Say your student powergames during or after teaching, how do you reprimand that?

If a student of mine was to powergame during the teaching, I'm would give them two warnings. During the first warning, I will explain in full what they did wrong, how to fix it and what they can improve on.  If a second warning needs to be established, then another discussion will be had as to how to fix things. From there if they refuse to acknowledge and improve from that point on, then they will be dropped as a student and a discussion will be had with ST on the current state of that students app. 

Do you have a magic(s) you are dropping due to this app? If so, link it:

         N/A

Do you agree to keep the ST updated on the status of your magic app?:

         Yes

Have you applied to teach this magic on this character before, and had it denied? If so, link the app.

         No

The occult craftsmen would gaze upon the letter, lips curling into a smile as his gloved digits gripped upon the parchment. After a moment of reading, the paper would soon find itself tossed into a nearby flame. The mans hands clasping together as he pondered upon the contents of the letter. 

"Not all of us combine our powers with the Void"

How does it feel to be an automata icon

This will be a mixture of OOC Oversight, and some occasional IRP lessons

*The entirety of these events are not public knowledge, unless there or told, do not meta this knowledge*

𝕱𝖎𝖗𝖊 & 𝕱𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖆𝖈𝖞

“Men never do evil so completely and cheerfully as when they do it from religious conviction.” ― Blaise Pascal, Pensées

The day was sunny, peaceful even, the Merchant of Murkwater having gone to the capital of Urguan with many of his so-called ilk and companions. His items, which he had recently re-acquired, were firmly hanging from the belt. His grandfather's cane of old Crackadonk bone used to guide him toward the city's entrance. It was all so cheery and so merry, why he even had time to converse with the Grand King of Urguan. Time to speak and spark trade, time to create contacts, and time to gain….

"Pharamir Delmar, come with us peacefully. You are under arrest for suspicion of being aligned with the Necrotic." The Delmar would stop, his mind and heart racing as he found himself soon surrounded by various Templars and Paladins. His hand was clasped tightly by the famed Dragonslayer, unable to escape from such.

 "Necrotic? Now I know my kin have not had the kindest of reputations. However, this is surely something you are overreacting about?" Just like he had done countless times before, yet this time, his silver tongue was not proving to be of help. Instead, they would continue with each one growing closer and another wary brow shown. Yet the lies did flow, criticisms given back, and comments about departure made. Yet despite that, the minor inconsistencies were not enough. 

“Weh shal du an interrgatoh upun dis Darkspawn.” No matter the lie or excuse, he was dragged forward to the long dark pit. All he could do was curse himself and his lack of preparation and foresight, despite his many gifts for such. Yet, surely they would not kill him; at best, he could lie. Perhaps not about being pure of soul, but certainly, about others, contacts he could gather. Anything to let him escape the dreary and dark prison. Yet, it mattered not; he was placed inside the dark pit. His golden gaze shifted about the area, waiting for whatever interrogation to begin. 

Click, Click, Click… 

The sound of gears shifting and whirring cogs could be heard, the Mali'dun looking about the place as he watched the pit slowly open. Shock first embraced him before fear began to ball in his stomach. The man frantically pushed himself towards the walls, attempting to find leverage, anything to aid his survival. Yet, nothing lay about the area. Instead, he felt himself falling into the pit of flames. The fire licking at his silk-garbed form was such a beautiful thing, and yet such a shame it had to burn away. Soon his body lighting, the various oils and dyes, and even the charcoal he used to maintain the dark coloration in his hair. All of it lit ablaze, his skin bursting and burning as a horrid scream of agony erupted from his charred vocals. The flames only allowed such suffering to show for seconds before his withered frame was brought to fall. His burnt and withered hand was raised in pleading agony—something to cause that terrible,  horrid pain to stop. 

Soon his prayer was answered, pain giving away to darkness, and darkness revealing a hellish fall...

Pharamir Delmar

SA 104 - 136

*These events are not known public knowledge*

"Yub Yub, Bestaz Friendz" A purple skinned olog would state

MC Name: SilvertheDM

Discord: SilvertheDM

Image: 

Description of Image: Murkwater Merchant Company Logo

Dimensions: 1x1

Honestly, a pretty sick Mart +1

A Delmar always makes good on their deals

A druid of greed and gold, sits in the center of the sun filled patio, various pillows and gilded cloth surrounding him. Various gems of shining hues and colors, scattered amongst his abode. A pile of treasure and wealth, looming behind the merchant. "Let us see the web you shall spin, Young Spider."

MC Name:

         SIlvertheDM

Character's Name:

         Reynard Pharamir Delmar

Character's Age:

         30

Character's Race:

         Adunian

Link to your accepted MA:

         https://www.lordofthecraft.net/forums/topic/225031-alchemy-fa-silverthedm/?tab=comments#comment-1975594

What magic(s) will you be teaching?

         Alchemy

Describe this magic or a creature as a whole:

Alchemy is the study and science of the material alphabet, and how it interacts with the world in a larger way, via potions, tinctures, and beings made of it. Alchemy at its core, can be put into three steps.

Identification, which is finding the symbols and signs that reside within a reagent. Symbols are what is used primarily in the making of potions, while signs are the elements that correlate to it. For example, in the case of Air - Clarity, Air would be the Sign and Clarity would be the Symbol. To identify, one must have an object that holds symbols, these are often natural occurring flora and fauna. Examples of plant reagent that holds symbols and signs, would be Oracle Wood. While an example of a fauna based reagent, would be a deers heart. It should be noted, that reagents often only hold one sign, though its not uncommon for some to hold two signs. Meanwhile, more often then not, a reagent will have three to four symbols within it.

Extraction, which is the separation of symbol from the reagent. This is often done via the extraction method, which there are six of, that being a earth, air, water, fire, mundane, and aether. Each extraction method must be done in its own way, for example, earth extraction involves the alchemist to grind up the reagent. Then placing in a half ratio of salt, which then they proceed to grind until a fine powder. After which, they will begin to sieve out the remaining grains of salt. Which by the end of it, will result in a Earth correlated symbol.  However for Air Extraction, it involves first dehydrating the reagent and then proceeding to grind it into a thick powder. Once they are done with that, the alchemist then compresses and decompresses until only a fine powder is left. Resulting in a Air-correlated symbol. 

Brewing is the creation of the tincture, tonic, potion, ect. Some of these alchemical products can be done without any specific order, such as Auric Oil, Tanglefoot, and Luminosity Potion.  However some require a more precise and exact process. Examples of this, can be seen in Warforging or Adunic Alchemy: Stags Stamina. These are all things learned within Alchemy, and as the individual progresses on, so will they be able to both extract things easier as well as create more and complex brews and creations. 

Are there different sections or subsections of magic? Can those be elaborated upon?

While there is not a subsection of this, alchemy does indeed of two categories to it. The first, is that there are Rare Recipes. Rare recipes are often hidden and safeguarded secrets, such as Warforging[The art of adding elemental aesthetics to weapons], Infernal Alchemy[The use of alchemy to mess with the infernal, such as creating rakir and rokodra], Black Alchemy[The use of life force and necrotic forces for alchemy], Alteration Alchemy[The use of potions to change ones features], ect. These are more often hidden, and may require you to be at a specific tier of understanding before using. 

However, after one reaches T3, they may further invest in the alchemical arts by learning Further Alchemy. Further Alchemy is more complex ways of using alchemy, examples of this can be seen in Animii Crafting. Which is the creation of Automotons, Machine Spirits, and Prosthetics. Along with Tawkin, which is the shaping of flesh, reincarnation, homunculi, as well as mutation to the body as a whole. 

Can you give an example of a casting emote, of a spell of your choice?

Creation of the Deadmans Cure

Can you give an example of a teaching-emote (interacting with another) of a spell of your choice?

"Today I shall be teaching you how to make mi- I mean potions! The alchemical arts, the use of the natural and material Alphabet" The greying Harrenite would give a manic hum of glee, as he had his 'statues' come and drop the crate of herbs in front of his student. Inside remained a vial of mana, lard,  herbs, and various other alchemical implements. The man would then point to the ingredients in front of them, a crooked digit pointing towards the various ingredients. "Today we make Auric Oil, the bane of magic, and something you will find both on slayer and in shop alike! The process is simple, for those who have studied the art for a while, that is." 

The student would look over the ingredients, nodding as they seperated them into different piles, before the Harren'hil spoke up. "First! Melt the Lard into an oil, and mix in the mana. This will create your base."  The silent student nodded, as they began to do such, the alchemist looking over his students shoulder as he nodded his head. "Now! Use that sift I gave you, and mix together two instability, and one death and impediment. Do it! Do it quickly!" The Student did such, a quickened pace made by them, before they looked up in frantic confusion. "What now?" The Master Alchemist gave a bored hum, before pointing towards the bottle. "Funnel the symbols in, and gently swirl it, do so until its golden!" The apprentice would nod, swirling the potion until the blue bubbled and fizzed, the liquid taking on a aurum like hue. After a few moments, the student looked up towards the golden eyed man. "What do we do next?" 

The Adunian would stroll over, his coin-like gaze panning over the bottle, as he gave it a look over. "Now? We go make mina! As any good merchant and alchemist should!" 

Say your student powergames during or after teaching, how do you reprimand that?

If a student of mine was to powergame during the teaching, I'm would give them two warnings. During the first warning, I will explain in full what they did wrong, how to fix it and what they can improve on.  If a second warning needs to be established, then another discussion will be had as to how to fix things. From there if they refuse to acknowledge and improve from that point on, then they will be dropped as a student and a discussion will be had with ST on the current state of that alchemy FA.

Do you have a magic(s) you are dropping due to this app? If so, link it:

         N/A

Do you agree to keep the ST updated on the status of your magic app?:

         Yes

Have you applied to teach this magic on this character before, and had it denied? If so, link the app.

         No

An adunian merchant and group of like minded capitalists , began to rally their group, the Murkwater Merchant Company starting to plot their first course of action in regards to helping the sailor and salesmen

A graying Harrenite merchant would give a most joyous smile, stamping an official Murkwater stamp of approval upon many of the fliers, in support of one of his most favorite clients!

A Farscryer of Fortune would bolt upright from his desk, powders and green toppling to the floor, as his bloodshot golden gaze shifted around the room. It took him a few minutes to realize his breathing had quickened, sharp rasps of air filling the hollow room, a noise he soon quenched with aid of Highlander Whiskey. 

"Another day, another dream, another new customer in store."

An Adunian reels forward in his desk, having partly dozed off, and yet also still processing the odd vision. His mind ever curious as to the origins and meanings of these cryptic visions. 

So did that Harrenite lounge upon the top of that tower, his golden hue placed upon that dark and brine filled jar. His mind pondering upon whether or not his friend would suffer or find salvation.

9 hours ago, femurlord said:

. Because of this, the presence of holy magic would only make them uncomfortable, though it would not outright harm them as it would darkspawn.

Feel like this is a very odd thing to add, considering how necromancers are made and our connection to the Heith-Hedran. There is a lot I have read, and a lot of personal critiques I've got with the rewrite. All in all, it feels very bogged down with mechanics, and lacking in the lore department. 

Though I will applaud on the Heith-Hedran interactions, one of the few things I like with this rewrite. 

*The events of these dreams are not public knowledge*

A Thane's Promise

The Adunian sat next to the banks of white sand, the grains slowly slipping and falling from his palm, mixing and merging with the dunes beneath his feet. He knew it was close, the time when sands ran red, and the waters filled with the dead. His dreams had changed, no longer clouded, but instead imparting a sense of direction for the Farscryer. 

“I suppose it is time to get ready then” He slowly stood, making his way back once more to the gates and into the ruined city of San Luciano. His clouded gaze shifted to the surrounding area, watching at the repaired structures that descendent kind had all united in fortifying together, watching as the Brothers of Brev worked to heal their injure and guard the gates, and watched as those who did not know what to do ideally chatted with one another. The Adunian merely chuckled, head slowly shaking as he felt another wave of lethargy wash over him, the sun certainly not helping him stay awake.

“Just a bit of rest-,” His mutter would be interrupted by a swift yawn, his head slowly nodding, as his head of grayed hair would come to rest against the warm red cloth of the table. His head would lower, face planted against the surface, as he felt the warm embrace of sleep take over. His mind drifted, guiding him down that same path he had been viewing for the last several months. . .

He awoke as he always did, in a puddle of murky water and waves, his hair floating upon the saltwater as rested there upon his back. Slowly, he began to lift himself up, the Adunian looking about the ruined stone keep. Towering walls of ruined marble, and crumbled columns decorated the once grandiose keep. Torn banners of the once proud Delmar Clahn, flying within the aged Adunic home. His head slowly turned about, golden hues affixed to the rotted door, the worm filled wood holding a peculiarity to it. An untarnished handle of silver, glinting in the early morning sun. 

With a deep breath given, he would walk over, opening it up to reveal the cracked stairwell. The sound of water rushing and flowing, entering his ears. Taking careful steps, he began to slowly descend down into the deep cellar. The sound of the water, only growing louder and louder, the stones beneath his feet slowly shifting. The carved brick of the castle, shifting and morphing to form a darker and more natural rock. With every step down, the noises grew, from the sounds of the sea did another noise erupt to life. The sound of screeching bats, and slithering serpents, a multitude of yellowed eyes peering from the crevices. A dark shape, flying past his head, only to give light to the path behind him once more. 

“Ten,” The amount of times he had managed to catch that swift thing within his vision, and the amount of seconds it took, before he felt that odd distortion. The world seemingly shifted, spinning, and hurdling, before he managed to catch himself against the stone wall. The rough cracks and shaping, and the slick moisture that trickled down, hinting at his arrival at the cavern's entrance. “Four.” 

He pushed himself from the slick surface, stumbling towards the gray light that spilled from the entrance, his feet meeting not the rough surface of stone. But rather, soft and cushiony grains of sand, his movement slowed as he entered that old and ever shifting ruins. Pillars rising from the waters, barnacles and algae spreading across its surface like an aquatic canvas. Centered amidst the dirtied waters, and old stones, sat an old skeleton, a blindfold of a purplish hue upon its rotted visage. Yet sprawled nevertheless, upon a throne of colored Anorum. He felt that familiar heaviness, the caution that warned him to step back, that tingle that told him to run up those worn steps and hide. Yet he did not listen, instead choosing greed, over his fear and caution. HIs breathing grew heavier, as he stumbled to the ratted cloth, his steps causing ripples to form in the shallow water. The sound of dripping, only growing louder, as he extended a palm out to grasp onto the blindfold on  the visage of the old corpse.  The rotted threads, almost sinking into the man's flesh, a sharp pain filling his golden palm. 

Once more, silence entered the occult ruin, before the head of the skeleton lurched forward. A skeletal palm shooting forth, and grasping onto the Delmars face. Pulling him back into the elden throne, his body sinking and falling through the crystalline structure…

His body tugged downwards, a tightness about his lungs, as his golden eyes opened to view his new surroundings. He was drowning, being tugged to the depths of the ocean floor, and having nowhere to escape to. Dark waters surrounded him, the only spot of color, being the long vines of kelp that grew from the ocean floor as he struggled against the tides, attempting to gain some control and swim to the surface, yet it was all futile. After a few moments, he realized what had to be done, realized his purpose in being brought into those dark waters. He closed his eyes shut, his mouth parting open to let the water in, choking for air as the salt filled his lungs. Soon he saw white spots, a stinging pain filling his lungs, as he continued to descend down into the depths. These spots soon started to shine with a different light however, the white becoming gold, and the dark being replaced by shapes. The feeling of dampness soon left his body. His eyes shot open, a raspy cough erupting from his vocals, as he fell to the ground with a splash. His golden gaze stared down, focusing upon the ripples that distorted and shifted, revealing guidance to the still adjusting Adunian. 

The first to be revealed would be those dark oceans, those bodies he often had seen in the seas, the drowned who never fully departed from this realm. Bloated palms crawling towards the surface of the dark Rh’thoraen ocean, seeking escape and clemency from the dark depths. Yet none arrived, instead their knowledge remained buried, their endless life of undeath made worse by their aquatic surroundings. Yet soon their despair shifted, no longer did the screams or cries for help, but instead a song with all the fury of a warband. From the deads fury, arose a construct of flesh and wood, a thing of illdyic might. One that he guided in its making. 

Yet soon the dark waters shifted, tones of yellow slowly spilling from the occult construct, and soon washing away the image in the pool. The waters turned golden, and from the liquid mirror, did the coffers of treasure and fortune reveal themselves. Coins began to spill forward, descending down to form into a  slope, the pile of wealth causing him to slowly rise up. With careful steps, he began to climb, his fists digging into the gold and gems. The precious gems and metal, flying in piles behind him, and yet, slowly did he rise up higher and higher. Coins slowly shifting to form golden steps, and jewels encrusting themselves into the stairs, a golden light showering upon him as he stumbled up the stairs of wealth. With every step, a new phrase was etched, and for every phrase did a mountain of knowledge imprint itself into his mind. His gaze flicked throughout the mass horde of wealth, and knowledge, searching and finding a new avenue and path. Yet none appeased him, none called out to him like the steps that truly rose before him, and so he climbed upwards. He rose higher and higher at a steady pace, yet nothing seemed to get him closer to the top. He continued to run upwards, until his feet gave out on him from the endless running, and forced him to crawl. 

Yet the crawl did not help either, even as he steadily pulled himself up another step, his palms were in far too much pain to continue helping him up. The corners of the gilded stairs, having long cut into his palms. So he sat there, gaze drifting now to the rippling pool of red, and it was in his own blood he saw it. Images of that scepter of old, and that long forgotten spirit, all was revealed within the Adunians bond and blood.”I will reclaim, what has been lost, Grandfather” 

His head slowly lifted, and for a moment he thought he could see that distant figure. Yet as he blinked, all he saw was the distant flight of a crow, the bird flying off into the night sky. Until a horrendous pain overtook his head, the Adunian went to scream, only for it to be caught in his throat. The flashing image of that many tendriled thing, seeming to open its cavernous maw around the Adunian, about to devour him. He felt horror overtake him, his body attempting to move, only for a thunderous pain to overtake his form. A look of horror spread on his face, as he felt his upper body topple to the side. Finally, a scream erupted from his throat, terror overtaking him as he attempted to lurch forward, to move at all…

He awoke in a cold sweat, the one eyed clutching his head, as another migraine started to hammer away. He had awoken in the caves, his mind awash in confusion before he recounted the events of yesterday. He remembered then how he had awoken, and how swiftly after he had helped protect the beaches. He remembered how he had fought side by side with the others, and had fended off against the Mori on the beaches. How they had swiftly fell back, and exited once the tunnels had made their presence clear. Most importantly though, he knew how they currently resided in the abandoned caverns that the Mori had once occupied. A shudder ran down his spine, as he slowly stood up, the man leaving the cottage he had decided to occupy with a few others. His golden gaze, coming to look upwards at the ceiling. 

How long would it be, until they where once more within the light?

I knew it looked familiar, and I thought I was crazy, big yikes tho

*This post is not common knowledge, only those present may know what is going on*

The Bloodied Basin

“Yet these answers do not come free,” The Adunian sat there at the edge of his bed, that brown cloth still covering both of his stitched hues, hands folding one over the other as he pondered over the words of the masked figure. “You will ache with pain, you will suffer, you will walk till you can no longer walk. When you beg for the hands of death itself to take you from this cruel and unforgiving life that you live. . .that is when you will get your answers.”

“He cannot possibly mean IT. . .can he?” He stood, mind racing with a hundred different thoughts and plots, a multitude of questions swarming through that jumbled psyche of his. Thoughts of the drowned bodies, thoughts of the glistening sickly orange eye, thoughts of the flying crow. It all led him to pace, his steps anything but subtle, as he walked back and forth. Anxiety brewing within the weak willed man, that true and unruly man of vice. After a few moments of pacing, he would stop. His gifted, or perhaps cursed, gaze came to rest upon the arm of his. How vain he truly was, the pigment shining with all the glamor of gold, yet still in a slightly weakened and shriveled state. For a moment, all he could do was stare, pondering what had led him to even making such a choice. Yet, he did not have to think long, he knew that reason for the golden glint within his palm now. Just as he knew one of the reasons for his pursuit of this path. For it was all in the pursuit of his own mortal greed and ambition, the ever hungering mortal, craving for further sense of gain. 

His golden digits, furled into a true and proper fist, nails biting into the weakened palm and yet even still. They would manage to burrow, the lifeblood of such just barely spilling onto the clenched hand. He grimaced terribly, the ever visible ivory of his teeth, glinting in the low candle light. He felt his thoughts, his mood, shift like ever present waters, glee turning to irritation at the thought of doing the task. Yet even with such anger, even with such ire slowly building, the words of another who guided sprung back into the thoughts of the man. “Yes, for even the selfish give away their blessing, but not without payment” 

“Is this my price?” His covered gaze slowly turned in the empty room, towards that small bowl of water. Slowly, he stumbled to it, a palm grasping at the basin's edge. Yet when he turned to look into those murky depths, he could not help but feel choked of breath. Horror growing upon his features, the waters reflecting once more that grinning dead and drowned Delmar, a palm seeming to rise out of the depths and latch onto him. Pulling him deeper and further into the pools. All the while, the dead Mali’dun’s reflection chuckled with glee, eager still  to pull the struggling Harren'hil to the depths. His last thoughts, being a mumbled phrase, barely discernible from the lips of the departed and drowned. 

“AGH!” He bolted upright from the bed, hand pushing to his eyes, as he felt a splitting pain throughout his head. His ears, tingling from the last words he heard, his breathing coming out in big heaving waves. His head whipped about, gray curls bouncing across his face as he looked about anxiously in his room, all seeming fine as he started to slow his breathing. Before he gave a slow nod of his head. 

“Everything is fine, everything is just fine” He paused, his hand feeling damp, and so he looked down to it. Shock filled him, and swiftly too did the pain, the inside of his palm wet with his own blood. Grabbing a nearby bandage, he slowly wrapped the golden palm, before he slipped his leather gloves back on. He took a moment to ponder, and think. The man slowly stood, a cautious gaze upon the pool of rippling water. Yet nothing more stirred, nothing more came to occur in that room, except for the single thought. The question of to leave or to stay in this ruined sanctuary, in safety and mediocre health. So he sat, idly grabbing his belongs and placing them near the edge of the bed. His mind wandered for seconds, minutes, hours…

It took some time before the  door to the stolen room slammed shut, causing any of the paintings that were still there, to shake and shudder. He walked to the entrance of the ruined castle, his steps stopping as he made his way to the old ruined road. To his right, rested the path to the square of Savoy, and towards the ever inviting tavern and people. Yet, to his left, sat the ruined iron barred entrance. The rusted metal, inviting him outside towards the desolate dunes of the south. He paused in that moment, unsure and anxious as to what to do in that moment. That was, until he heard the ever present noise, the sharp caw of a bird, alerting him to its presence. He looked towards it, and it was there he saw it, the black winged bird staring at him from the banners. Before he had time to even properly react, the bird once more looked at him, and cawed. Before it flew off the banners and into the direction of that blurry gate. The man merely stood there, mouth agape in shock. Then, slowly, a noise began to emit from his throat. At first, slow and soft, though swiftly growing into a mighty chuckle. His cane tapped forward, and so he started to walk down the path, towards the ever-damned desert 

“That is when you will drink the waters, granted by my Almighty”

How sleepy orcs and ologs be

MC Name:

         SilvertheDM

Character's Name:

         Brenaris the Burnt

Character's Age:

         36

Character's Race:

         Human

What magic(s) will you be learning?

         Templarism

Teacher's MC Name:

         boknice2754

Teacher's RP Name:

         Ser Philip the Righteous

Do you have a magic(s) you are dropping due to this app? If so, link it:

         N/A

Do you agree to keep Story updated on the status of your magic app?:

         Yes

Are you aware that if this magic is shelved, it will be unavailable to use?

         Yes