Skelepathic

[!] 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.

A Call To Arms The Silver's Introduction My brethren around this new Continent, I invite you all to join in on the continuation of exploration of this island. The four corners have spoken, and a new Era of magic is to come at any moment; I swear on it. Death and War has been upon us due to the Mori, the Mori have died off but a new threat emerges from their ashes. Necromancers, Wretched Ones, Undead Spirits, and Evil Cabals near our homes and threaten the lives of your loved ones. Evil lurks among everyone, but this is no ordinary evil. This evil is a perpetrator, an intruder within a home, an infiltrator within rankings, a spy that watches every single step you take. The Silver offers you hope and freedom away from these wasteful and adherent dreams, we offer you breathing room away from drama and war to have a peaceful moment at last. The Silver is not whom you expect, we are no Cultists, no Adversaries, no Daemons among your people; We wish for one thing. Peace, a peace without worry and trouble, a future without momentary disruption of time or space. We wish for many things to happen, and we are aware the consequences of this missive but fear not; We are not upset about such. A Prayer to the Profit "The Profit speaks eternal, the whole shine eternal. No mortal, no sin, no body, no sin, no heart, no sin, but yet we alter. Those who win among the evil, will not only falter but lose one or the other. The Profit speaks true, the Profit offers live." A Warning to the People The Depth has been threatening our lands for eternity. The Profit despises those who use the power of magic for evil and for disruption, Voidal mages have been a sign of what happens when you please an ignorant child. The Void offers no reprimands to those who abuse the void for their own sanctity and gain, encouraging their behavior further. Deep within the lands of the Unholy, Necromancers and Voidal Mages combine their power to raise destruction upon they deem fit. They manipulate and grow their numbers to further strengthen their masses. They have no good intentions. Explore and prosper, do not falter. 🎇 May the Profit speak truth and prepare your life with peace and refuge.

The Saprophyte Nocens agreed with his brother, taking the missive and continuing their duties.

Vey Louk sent the poor soul off on the boat he burned the man on, the boat burning bright as he realized the man wouldn't be a wandering soul no longer, Vey Louk stared with their mask before removing it to reveal their grimace; The upset looking churning and edging across their face like molten metal. The individual stated in such a sad tone;