Lenny

Lionel Tiber rummaged through the keep for his equipment!

[ This vision is visible to all that encompasses an Inferi, Naztherak, Zar'akaal, Infernal Compendium Inferi ... etc] Tremors quaked beneath your heel, ripping and tearing apart the very ground you stood atop. A distant echo of crows and rot gnawing at the back of your mind. A plague-black flock of carrions descended upon you, settling atop perches near. Their forms were laced in grease and oozing with a foul green-hued trail of plague in their path. Three eyes which bled with a blood-red hue trickled from their sockets, their gaze pressed against you; into you. Your mind was stolen, a vision bestowed, which drew you through a tumble of scenes that ripped you through the very hells itself until you were upon your knees in a blackened room—surrounded by darkness; on your lonesome. Blood began to trickle from the breathing walls, and soon peaking through the shadows near you, before it took to flame; illuminating the figure which stood within the enormous halls with you. “Stand ready, for my arrival.” The enormous Zentherak spoke before you, its head formed from a crow’s skull and its red-hued form carried a macabre mimicry of a mere carrion—yet its presence was unmatched. A sudden ichor bled into your eyes, the blackening sun which hung low in the skies began to bleed as it slowly blackened, and you found yourself swallowed whole by its display … returned to where you once stood yet with a quest, and purpose, to see completed. A burning sensation rang throughout your upper-chest, as if a brand had been stamped upon your very chained soul, a demand bestowed by a Lieutenant of Hell.

yes 🥰 u should apply

w troglodyte comment, somehow the guy that is playing a zar akal is going to make the mystic adjacent group near go on a mass disconnect spree oh wow my brain is pulsing with immense power

The Pig squealed in the depths of the afflicted lands of the Inferi, parchment ripped off the wall as the warlock sought to find this ‘Shadowknife’. The squealing continued to echo into the distance, as the gluttonous one waddled off with its goal in mind …

Reasoning It’s cool and fits their theme :p melee magic that can't use any spells in close quarters 1v1 Under Magic Explanation redlines of Templarism, add: Casting a charged spell is considered a full action in a Templar’s emote, preventing them from blocking, sprinting or attacking in tandem with casting as they are unable to take another significant action. Charging a spell is a separate action from casting, allowing a Templar to charge when attacking with a melee weapon except for sprinting or defensive usage. The only exception for this is Dauntless Charge, where the blurriness of the Templar's sight is too detrimental. Manifesting courage/connecting to the magic still constitutes its own significant action, meaning you cannot attack, sprint, block, etc in the same emote.

SEEKING THE SHAMANS A parchment was scattered to the wind, written by Orcish hands. Following the sundering of our kin’s home, the guidance of the spirits have been silent in its wake. I am seeking those who engage in the ancient rites, to allow me to converse and to take me to their home once more; I hold questions which need answers. Should you, one who upholds the true way of the spirits, be willing to offer such then write and I shall heed your call. Be it of my own blood, or not. At the bottom of the parchment, a name was written Azrul, Son of Gorkil [send letter to 'lennylemur' in-game]

“Go on, get!” Stuart was hard at work, in that little hamlet he had settled in. The Tiber kept residing near, atop that peak and the birds which often dispatched from their tallest tower became an expected daily occurrence; one he would await as he sat down to feast upon the little harvest he had collected that season—so much that he could mimic at least. Recently, he had returned from 'Alduun' where he had indulged in the wares there, and the flowers for his long-passed daughter were laid to rest by her grave. However, when he sat down to watch the birds fly off—there was a great delay, and tiny hands stuck out in contrast to those soot-laden ones? Curious, he dragged that musty hat of his out and dropped it onto his head and shed the wheat he had stuffed into his clothes, to seek out its source.

Falstad Bronzebeard hammered away at the forge, how happy he was!

Lionel Tiber rushed into Castle Clapton, hearing the distress unfolding the above. His eyes befell the duo of Patsy and Hubert in the stairways--their blood-stained armor and the cloak which wrapped around the ruin that was his hand. The blood has certainly soaked through it already, he reached to grasp his good arm, aiding him alongside the rest to stand before the Patriarch of House Tiber; Cassius. Following the conversation, there was but one answer; "We must give them the Clapton Special, brother." he spoke to Cassius, and wiped his forehead down.

oh wow

Lionel Tiber wiped down his face with a soot-stained cloth, an exasperated sigh rolling out his maw. "Hyup, job done mate."

i thought we were doing it?