Damnit_Delmar

[!] The contents of this post are not public irp knowledge "You have only just started" Zechariah's eyes opened to the thick gray haze that lay about him, his head slowly lifting up from the soft bedding of grass that lay beneath him. His aged and withered features, looking about the desolate realm. A sense of familiarity filling him, for he had been subject to the ruins of this realm, once prior. He looked down at himself, a hand lowering as he dusted off what muck and mud clung to his attire. His gaze, flicking back to the expanse of sickly grays and the light green hue that seemed to pulse through the air. That pulse, slowly starting to grow and swell, as though it was the steady beat of a heart. His head swiveled to the right, and there was nothing but brush and brambles. He looked then to the left, his glazed gaze now greeted to the sight of bubbling muck and mud. The occasional glint of ivory, showing through the brown and red. His head then flicked forward, his eyes landing upon that horrendous wooden merged cadaver. His feet, guided him towards the tree, and as he did so the steady beat of the heart grew closer and closer. With every step, the pulse and thump grew louder, so much so that earth quivered and shook and his ears swelled with the thunderous noise. Pain wracked his mind, his body, even shaking what felt like the borders of his soul. However, the adunian relented, for as he stepped forward. His gaze would lower, watching as from the center of its chest, an ichor began to ebb and flow. Veins popping and sprouting, as from the center of its chest, showed a true and beating heart. "We must speak, Prophet" The thunderous boom relented, that ear aching pain and shifting movement stopping. A hot fire, almost akin to molten iron, burnt through his chest and forced the man to a knee. As his gaze lowered, so to did he come to realize there was throbbing beating heart. Made not of flesh, but wood, moss, and leaves. A sharp pain, entered his neck, and he was forced to the ground. Pain wracked his form, starting from the tip of his toes and rising throughout his body. As it did so, his body felt as though it was sinking into the ground. Rooting with the world, it was only until the pain went to just at the base of his neck. That the pain swiftly ended, a loud jolt felt throughout his body as he lurched forward... SLAM! His head would hit one of the beams on board, a sharp pain wracking both head and neck, as a hand moved to check for injury upon his neck. His breaths would exit out quickly, as he rubbed at his old and withered features. Eyes closing for a moment, attempting to regain his composure from the dream. Or more fittingly in this case, the nightmare...

When my character drank Sheeps Blood from a spooky goblet, had some spooky schizo rp for the next week or When I first met one of the Monks

Got no clue where to find that in corrupted lore, though then again I don't often look at dragon lore, just saw this and thought I would skim it over. So if you have a quote or something you could show, that would be dope, but yeah I just don't see why a potion would be able to realistically do this. WIthout use of life-force that is, since anything undead related, usually more often then not holds life-force. So unless you added liquid life-force within it, I just don't see it feasiblly working. As for the naming for the smoke one, just a random name that I thought of, but Serpents Story could work. As for too many Aether Reagents, I hear you on that, could always work on changing the Nephilim blood from an AetherxFire, to instead maybe a WaterxFire since I don't think any of those exist. Could be wrong though.

Its an interesting lore piece, though truthfully the Bone Dance one is the only one I've a gripe with, considering I don't see why a azdrazi or corrupted azdrazi would raise and animate skeletons. Just feels likes it intruding upon Necromancy cantrip branding, with no theme and thematic about it besides. "Glowing fire skeleton." Saw the above post as well, and thought I should submit one of the correct snippets of Cantrip Branding. "By using branding, a necromancer is capable of raising embalmed corpses and skeletons to work as their assistants and janitors outside of combat. There are tools for different tasks, as a few undead rats will be quite useful in retrieving bone matter and viscera from a gutter- but a full sized human will not. As these animations are purely non-combat, anything relating to combat including traps, pit falls, etc are unable to be constructed by these undead. In addition, if combat is to ever start in the vicinity of a risen cadaver, it will immediately fall inert as the Necromancer’s attention is then focused on their oculus, or on a branded combat animation. Cantrip branding may be used in tandem with oculus bound undead, up until combat starts in their vicinity. Anything larger than a descendant is unable to be risen by the cantrip, requiring the handling force of an oculus to restrain the creature. As for miniscule creatures, ‘swarms’ of risen insects may be no larger than a human’s head, whereas rodents and other small fauna may range in their numbers, but are limited to the mass of a human. Notable as well is that swarms of creatures operate in a hivemind, unable to work as individuals in any regard." Though I'm always a fan of aesthetic potions like the Smoke Horrors, I feel like it should be re-named to something more dragon themed. Considering the name does not at all entail what it does, at least reading it. Likewise the Dragon Dreaming and Hoarders Embrace are cool potions, honestly don't have much to say about them. Something I would suggest, is changing Aurum flakes from just earth, to also making it purely Aether or a EarthxAether mix. Considering during the alchemical extraction process, you utilize aurum tools to extract Aether reagents. Other then that, like to see more reagents and reasons to go Dragon Hunting for parts, and seeing how those ingredients could shine in potential future pieces.

Not even a dragon boi, and this is actually pretty cool and dope +1

Aurelion Marsyr, Vesryn Delmar, Draedos De Castro, Ezra Othaman

The necrolyte looked to the bow he held in hand now, and then to that green ribbon he had taken from the Templar. Such a day should be joyous, grand perhaps, yet the adunian in him felt nothing but remorse that it had come to such a thing. Nodding his head, he would slowly wrap the ribbon upon his wrist, making sure it was bound tight and unable to be merely knocked off. "You where, perhaps the greatest amongst the warriors of blind courage. I pray that perhaps, your soul can find peace, devoid of the Anguls claim." With ribbon bound to wrist, the Prophet would make his way down from the tops of those trees. His gaze, peering upon that bloodied sapling, something not born from mockery. Rather, a true respect for the man he once could have called, uncle. Turning, he would make his way away from the Vale, before he began to head to those hallowed halls. The Vagabonds Welcome [PK'd Characters Welcome]

An adunian looked at this missive, a grand smile growing upon his marred visage, from the tavern a loud and boisterous laugh would resound through the mighty hall. A joyous and chaotic tune as he laughed at the failures of that Northern Kingdom. "Splendid"

1. Their name. Zechariah 2. Some incidents. Talked to a Giant Flaming Oak 3. What they look like. Tall old man with many scars 4. How they act like Cunning Zealous Prophet, who is slowly losing fucks to give

You know what, I'm curious what you will choose for me

Zechariah, The Ashen Prophet - Your favorite schizto prophet who preaches the word of the Widu

Gotta love shroom lore +1

So, while I think this is a dope item, don't get me wrong. It does feel a bit strong, considering you have an item that not only harms all undead.[Which a lot of CAs/Magics involve undead], but you also have it last for 10 emotes, when a lot of stuff does not last that long. My solution Make Charging the flame: Three? I'm not certain if it is already, wording for it is odd Make Weapon Enhancement: 6 emotes max, 4 if you keep with every strike nulling the ability to cast magic Hitting mechanics: In regards to the flame, is it direct contact with the skin? Or is it if it just hits their being? For example, say you've got a Frost Witch in armor. Are they still prone to the effects of the flame if they get hit in armor? Or, do they have to actually be cut/burned by the item physically? As for the wounds, how is it extra damaging? Does the fire stick to the wound? Does it make it harder to heal from? Maybe adding a bit more to that stuff. I'll look through the re-write a bit more, but it seems cool, I like it.

The Events Depicted are not common knowledge. 𝓐 𝓟𝓻𝓸𝓹𝓱𝓮𝓽𝓼 𝓣𝓪𝓼𝓴 The priest had been wandering those hazed woods, for many a night had he not seen rest, a part of his blessing from the Angel. To roam the woods and lands, free as a wolf who shepherded the fearful sheep, he had been haunting those roads. Perhaps waiting for someone, or something, such was a mystery upon his muddled mind. However it was upon that travel, did he begin to hear it, the toll of bells. A constant hum and ring that refused to lessen, bearing directions from the west, east, south, and north. It called as one would whistle for a dog, goading him into the woods, to search further and deeper. To take call of his destiny perhaps, for as he ventured further into the woods. So did those trees began to warp and shift, their brown bark blackening, their green leaves quickly falling. Replacing into long arms of a warped and charred wood. Black ash, soon began to fill his lungs, as his feet sunk further into the mud and muck. His gaze began to linger further into the landscape, wrought on by the blessing, the truth! For in the distance, did he see it, the long dark towers that rose from the ground like obsidian obelisks. How grand they where, how ruinous, a true depiction of the end wrought from truth of his prayer. In the distance, enwreathed in flames, was there a brilliant mote of light. A tree, akin to the Ashwoods of the north, enwreathed in brilliant hues of orange and red. Like a Moth to flame, did the man begin to make his way forward. Fear clung to his soul, yet more importantly, did his zealousness trump that emotion. For he was in the domain of the dark, the shadow. He was granted a sight of the days to come, and so with every fiber of his being, would he force himself to draw nearer. "All converges into one. One, converges into all. Time fades, time intertwines. The flesh of wood, the flesh of man, the flesh of lion. To grant my vessel" "Devoted. Defying of the Deific. Break the Chains. Grant my Vessel" The words came from the ground, the earth, the tree. Like a choir, it rang through his psyche like an ever persistent hymn. Feelings long since held, returning, as he remembered his first encounter with the choir. So, did he stare at the tree, frantic words exited from his scarred maw. "Who are you?" The thing of yore almost seemed to twist and bend towards the man, the priest, the Blackfinger! In its many bodied tone, did it answer that question, with a truth. A testament to its being and holiness. "I am the first, I am the last. The eternal flame is snuffed when I have burnt to ash." The mans eyes, those of a gray hue currently, bore witness to what he had only though to see in visions. "The Eldar Flame?" Its silence spoke volumes, before that choir grew in volume. Spreading its faith, its truth and goal, to the man in front of it. "To show the dreams of the eternal mass, one shall grant my vessel. To rebirth beyond the memories of the world. To birth upon the flesh of the descendants, to grant clarity, to grant timelessness. To grant, all." "Devote to the breaking of chains, and all shall be revealed." Then did it give one last sermon, one last gospel for the prophet of the tower to bask in. Though as it did, a gnarled branch would extend forth, in doing so would it drop. Creating his crook, his guide in a sense, for the flock. "The Husk of the Aspects. To meld at my place of rebirth. To then fuse a lion into the flesh of my tree, shall awaken my roots to flow through wherever I stand. To break through the constraints of mortality. to grant you guidance." Slowly did he lower himself down, amongst the muck and mud, did he find that branch of gnarled make and eldritch runes. His fingers, gracing over its design, before the leather clad digits poked at the pointed stake. His head merely nodding as he saw such things, before his gaze looked to the Eldar Flame, to the one that had guided him. "Then so shall it be done" Upon such utterances, did the trees and choir grow, almost in glee. His head thrumming and mind breaking, as he felt his head hit the tough road. He was there, perhaps minutes, hours, days even. Yet upon him standing, did he find within his grasp, that occult branch. His staff, his crook, his guide for the lost sheep. So, did he begin to walk, and walk, and walk! Until his feet grew blisters, and his skin grew pale and pallid. Until the dyes of his hair fell through, and the shock of silver was made clear again. Through turmoil and travel, did he bear semblance once more to his true visage. The one that was dead, yet not, the one that had learned all he needed. The one that had failed his Kingdom and Lordship. Yet despite it all, did he travel, far and fast, until he found the blackened keep. His hands going to those iron gates, no longer as merely a man, but instead as the Ashen Prophet

Barbog based +1

The man, marred with the sapling of madness, would find himself within those cold and hallowed woods. With difficulty and pain, did he find himself carve into that flesh of his, flesh cold and blackened from frost. The crude and holy symbol of the Angel, his breathing grew ragged as he leaned himself up against a tree. "Praise be to the Ylk'Mesh! Let its blood act as the river, to guide us towards salvation!"

The Blackfinger Captain would look down upon his stump of an arm that he now bore, a hand going to press the once whole arm. A mortal man, having fought side by side against the Maleficar worshippers. "GOD, has put trial and challenge for me this day and time, to test my will and strength. I pray that upon my next encounter, those of the Angul of Xan shall pay twicefold for the injuries they have done onto me." It was with that, he began his prayer in that slowly freezing tower, a prayer of repentance and failure for his actions that day. But with each utterance, did prayers of wroth and wrath, grace in between those lines. Prayers that asked for failure, of those who bore the Light of the Lion.

Sucks to see you go man, you where pretty chill with the few encounters I did have, stay safe and have fun

The Adunic Lord and Prophet would read the missive with vested interest, however he also read it in approval, upon the mans declaration of following the steps of his kin of old.

I actually really enjoy this lore, pretty well written, love the more visceral and gritty vibes. Always a fun of the more shizo lore +1

"A mighty leader, and truly, a kind friend to the adunians. I only hope that he may find peace." The to be Lord of Cartref Mor would nod his head, a frown upon his scar littered features, before he rested the note on his desk. Curious, as to how the next several years would entail for his people.

+1 from me, only comment of actual use is I would suggest changing the time from 10 minutes, to 15. But that's just a personal opinion if anything. Otherwise, I'm happy with these rules, it will make doing villainy a lot more realistic and fun. Considering a lot of the encounters, on a ooc level are happening hours, but irply that stuff is taking minutes at most.

An old acquittance of hers would meet her on the other side, a spectral grin gracing that semi scarred visage of his. Blindfold long left gone, as as spectral arms greeted her to the soul stream. "I am saddened that you did not stay longer, but, it appears your duty as an ancestor has come. Let's join the others, shall we?" Vesryn would give a warm smile, as he waved for Coral to follow him, to where the souls of the other adunians resided and watched over their kin.

That gray skinned goblin would raise his spear of gold and bone in the air."Diz iz da whay, da whay ov da Throqugrizh!. Da whay ov da Heartbeat!"He would then go, to scry into the Grizh.