Skelepathic

Baldwin was intrigued as he sat in his domicile, alone. He was drinking his homemade lemonade out of a neat, porcelain mug whilst he observed this missive and other information he had nearby. His eyes were furrowing as he sipped, he then sat down his cup to read more thoroughly. His legs began to cross as he read, he deepened his gaze towards the paper; "So.. They are dispersing within each other. They are slowly degrading from the inside. Good to know. That gives the Host the advantage." He set down that missive into a pile, before continuing on with other essential information. "Todd" read the missive with distaste, he didn't have a problem with the Vale but more of them lying about fighting off the Azdrazi. They aren't doing a damn thing. His sardine-fingered hands gripped the missive before he rips it; "Liars, you aren't doing a good enough job!" The angered ghoul said, kicking and stomping in an upset manner; "****! Give us some good conflict for **** sake!"

I didn't describe it too well but basically, think of it as a ghoul situation. They are more related to undead than actually demons. It just the souls that possess them aren't the undead version of that person, just more of a vessel or host for the demons on the other side.

Trahendaes Inferior Demons I. Origins Within the confines of the Underworld and the realms of chaos and death, a blasphemous breed between Voidal horrors and daemons alike spawn within the reaches of Aevos; Trahendaes (shortened version of Crawl Demons) are of the abominations of the undead throughout the lands. Trahendaes point of origin and their circumstances of becoming are a mess, as so few are seen that they are rarely documented. Theories awry that they are messengers of Iblees, some say they are warning signs of upcoming danger, others say that they are tricksters and cold hearted but they are just theories. Though, a running theory of these daemons is that they are creations of Higher Demons for messaging and surveilling continents that would be plausible for usurping and draining it’s natural structure but still, a theory nonetheless. II. Biology Trahendaes are daemons that have either been stripped of their legs or the legs are completely amputated from either waist down or so on. Trahendaes have untouched muscled torsos with long arms. The arms to the torso are skin but the waist, head, and hands are daemonic in origin. The heads can either resemble the heads of medium to large prey animals (Sheep, cattle, rams, etc) or of recently deceased men or women. The heads of the Trahendaes are usually stripped of any skin and shown to have mainly meat and bones on them. The hands of the Trahendaes are elongated and the fingers are spikey and sharpened to the bone. A thick, black casing engulfs the fingertips and acts as sharpened tools. Due to the length of the arms, and the unfortunate circumstance of the legs, it is given that the arms are used for the transportation of the daemon. Even though they are losing an aspect of their body, Trahendaes are extremely efficient crawlers and climbers, being able to scale walls and trees in no time. Daemons seem to not need food, water, or sustenance to survive but tend to eat for no reason. Unlike other demons and undead, Trahendaes can possess emotion but are bound to their creators whim. If a Trahendae is to harm you, you are not to worry as they possess weak strength when fighting due to their hesitancy. III. Behavior Trahendaes are neutral stalkers and do not seem to attack or intend harm on those they stalk. They often disguise themselves in nature or on objects and structures with whatever is around them but they tend to stalk openly as well. Trahendaes are incapable of inept incubation and are not driven to lust, their only desire is to finish their tasks set to them by their creator. Trahendaes are also very fluent in common and other languages, but tend to slur their speech due to the circumstances regarding their heads. There is not much known about Trahendaes behavior, they are mainly docile for daemons. Though, they are extremely wise as well as very good at convincing or persuading their way. This, however, is uncanny and can be seen as some sort of magic, being named Silvertongue Trahendaes. Trahendaes, being brought into this world, seem to have a shared connection with the undeath plain. They do not possess memories of the bodies or souls used to create them but seem to be a selected slot of daemons. IV. Taming Unfortunately for those who wish to KEEP a found Trahendaes, they are only bound to loyalty to those they serve but they can still be interacted with and befriended by anyone.

[!] These paintings sat at the Holy Alters within the Canonist Churches of the Continent, either on the ground next to them or laid sprawled on their contents. When coming into contact with this painting, the man in the painting matches the same visual depiction of GOD. The oil on the painting has rotted and a darkened wood surrounds it in a frame. The frame smells of smoke and soot, and the frame was polished. A note sat on the back of the framed painting. The note's contents are disturbing at most, they say: To the Church and It's people, My existence was nigh to return to this plain and when I returned, I was shocked by the brutality I was given. A wayward soul, as they call me. I was belittled and judged by my companions, stripped of my belongings and my humanity. Before long, I was given the saddened news I had months left to live from an infection called Deadman's rot or as the medical field calls it, Leprosy. My past contradicted my faults and everything else, and I thought I was ready for the people to accept me again but I was wrong. God, of all people, abandoned me in the days becoming of my demise. He left me, ignoring and slandering my prayers to him. I asked for direction from his Holy Disciples and I was kicked away like a stray dog. My soul never separated from this land but my body did. My past is a blur for me, though somehow I still remember their faint smiles and their laughters. My wife and daughter always seemed to enjoy life to it's fullest extent as I was working hard to appease their lives. As I sat everyday, reading my daughter her favorite book, she always reminded me of my feats and my intentions like she was proud of me. Her gentleness and her loving nature always made me feel the same to her, and I trained her everyday to respect God's will and his way of life but yet, she questioned God. If God existed, why did he let such horrid things happen to good people? My wife questioned when and where she heard this but my daughter was curious of her own delusion. I was quite confused why she would think this, but it did make a bit of sense to me. Why would God All Mighty, father of all, hurt the people he loves? Is it a test of faith? My daughter became ill when reaching her teens with an odd illness, nothing the doctors of Olgeria knew and we had quite a lot of good doctors. They said it was a disease only contracted from undead and beasts from the voidal plain, but I was confused. My daughter never interacted or studied voidal magic or undead magic, she was just a child. My daughter slowly became sicker and sicker but she kept her hopes up, even when We, my wife and I, were losing hope. She passed a few months later after such, and I began to sink into a depression of some sorts, losing my only child was hard for me. After which, my Wife, Agatha of Olgeria, decided it was her time to go as well, dying of a disease that I have now contracted from her. Was this because I questioned God's will? Was this a chance for redemption? No. No, it wasn't. Our village was being swarmed by undead, and instead of ridding the bodies in a holy flame; They instead dumped them into our rivers and wells, where we bathed and drank from. No, no man of God was as loving or as caring as my daughter was. No, God wasn't as ambitious and as all-mighty as we thought he was. NO, NO GOD EXISTED. There was no all-mighty, there was no singular God that these men and women brought the sword to necks for, no. It was a delusion, a skeptic, a book that these men and women followed for a chance to rid themselves of the sins they committed. It was an act of vigilance and necessity to be different. I lost everything for the name of God, my eyes and ears no longer work and now I sat in a vacant loft with no home, no money and no treatment. But then, a man came to me. He saw my dire need of assistance and he offered me a chance to become alive again, but at a cost. I had to serve him. I was desperate and ignored everything in an agony plea but then, darkness. I remembered waking up on a table in a body I didn't recognize but yet, I felt better. I felt a strong relief brought off my shoulders and yet, something was missing. I was left with little emotion, little memory; HELL! I do not remember nobodies faces but yet, I felt better. I had no skin, bear bones down to the joints and the muscles. I stared at my maker, confused but no regret crossed my mind. They took care of me, and treated me like a member of their family. "Why didn't the Church treat me like this?" I thought, "Why wasn't I some sort of Martyr for what've become of me?" But then it dawned on me. They never cared for me, God never existed, and the Church was just a facade to hide their hatred to opposites. But though I hated the church, I hated myself for believing their lies. Yet, I always feel my daughters hand every so often when I rest, but I can no longer see her face. From this day forth, I DEVOUT MYSELF TO IBLEES. The death of Canonism and the War against the Church has started, undead and lost souls alike will join to face against those who have wronged them. It is not their lands, it was ours and now they rid us from it. Drive us away like pests in a shed, yet we remain! From this day on, no Canonist will walk safely. From yours truly, 𝐹𝑒𝓎𝒹𝓇𝒾𝒹 "𝒯𝑜𝒹𝒹" 𝒯𝒽𝑜𝓇𝓃𝑒 𝐼𝒱 𝑜𝒻 𝒪𝓁𝑔𝑒𝓇𝒾𝒶

THIS POST WAS GLITCHED! DO NOT READ

Baldwin Keyes was quite busy with his guard duty when the vision hit. The man felt the vision crawl along his spine like a knife gliding it's cold blade across your skin. His eyes widened as he felt evil clutch his throat and the airways closed. But as he was choked by this undeath, he felt ease as it's grip loosened and began to hug him. He was no longer afraid and his soul felt unburdened by demise and felt more tranquil. "A vision of never-ending torment, just like how my father use to say." When the vision ceased, he forgot of it as it crawled it's way to the back of the Reinmarian's mind. Todd, the wayward Ghoul, sat in it's resting place as he awaited for his rebirth. Though his body destroyed, his soul lived on. In the dimension that holds his soul, he felt it. He envisioned the sight of the damned and their tranquility coming slowly but surely, his eyes slowly clasping onto the souls that began to leave the soul plain and into another as they embraced each other and themselves. Talk of sweet nothings from a death beyond, yet nothing seemed to be as equal as it use to be silent.

Baldwin saw this missive as his face churned with anger and irritation, clutching the missive in his hand before walking around Reinmar and ripping them down. "Damn Bastards! Stay away from our children! You target innocents, kill men and women in front of their children then drain them of their hope. Tyrants, all of you! May God find his way of ridding you!" With that, Baldwin took his helmet and armor, placing it upon himself. He then grabs the reigns of his horse and hops onto it, riding away from Reinmar. The Olgerian Muscle head was confused by the missive, he didn't understand it's meaning but that's because he's not familiar with the common language. He proceeded to use it for more beneficial needs, like toilet paper? Todd looked at this missive from beyond the grave, giggling out loud as he waits for his creator to bring him back: "Why the **** would we announce ourselves? They already know we exist?! There is no redeeming daemons that have been already been in the clutches of evil for too long."

The ghoul, "Todd", received this letter and began to grow an irritated face before grabbing his weaponry and his horse mounts. He began to journey after saying, "I'm comin' kid, don't worry."

Necromancy, wish to bring back good or bad people to ask questions. Hopefully that’s how that works on this server

A whimsy human executed the woman in cold blood before taking his order off; "That was actually, really easy. ." The Man left in no hurry. The individual placed away their weapons before mounting the head of Callista on the wall before sitting down to get a drink. "Beautiful. . As my mounts should be."

The Kharajyr would yawn before the Missive was sent to him, a raised brow would be made; "T'ey oug't to make meh out as a dirteh traitor. . Nae nae, just doin' t'eir job as usual." The Kha stated, Jest humming as he resides in his temporary house due to the Trial. The Kharajyr would pick up his things, no evidence or anything else needed before yawning again. He prepares for another day of Labor and hard work.

When Jest saw this missive, he tore it down and stomped on it before spitting; "Making peace with Psychopaths and murderers, you must be fookin' joking. ." Jest gave it one last loogy before pushing the dirt onto it, walking off as he scoffs at the thought of any allegiance with Lurin, clearly disgusted.

The Cultist held this missive in his hands as his loyal servants brought it to him, Damien grabbing it and looking at it as he sat reading from his Bibliotheca before setting down the book to get up and pin it to his missive wall. "Is it to your liking, Sire?" One of the other cultist's there said, quite timidly The Profit turned to the other cultist before nodding; "I wish to get into contact with these fellow holders of knowledge. . Burning the stake of unholy and bringing a new light to the Profit will benefit us greatly." The Profit said before giving off a grimly cough which the other Cultist felt worried, "Do not yield, brother. . Bring me some medication from the Apothecary. ." And with that, the Cultist sat back down and continued reading their books.

As Jest watched the death of the Amador, guilt did not subside; She had deserved her damnation against the holy church for feeding herself and housing darkspawn, this was her own issue that she had consumed herself in. The Kharajyr stuffed the missive into his bag after folding it neatly before saying to himself; "The Child was in the cross fire. . But the child would've died from excoriating pain during it's life either way. . I do not wish for that to any child. . Darkspawn or not." Jest would then sign the Lorraine and walk away from the county board, attending to his business and further exploration.