TheWhiteWolf

Echoes of Darkness [Only personas with an approved application for the scrying of prophecies may observe the content of this prophecy post: those with prophetic visions gifted by Farseer, Mysticism, Naztharek, Seer, Vivification, and so forth.] Dink... Dink... Dink... Each resonant echo of the pickaxe's strike reverberates through the oppressive darkness that envelops you, leaving you feeling as solitary and isolated as your surroundings. The shadows hang thick in the air, obscuring your vision and dulling your senses, yet within their depths, an eerie sensation gnaws at you—a haunting awareness of being observed. Dink... Dink... Dink... The relentless rhythm of metal on stone persists, a disconcerting but oddly comforting melody that momentarily eases the tension that the shadowy shroud brings. With closed eyes, you concentrate, straining to locate the source of the rhythmic sound, but strangely, it eludes you, leaving only an eerie silence in its wake. The ground beneath your feet trembles, the very earth yawning open as if to consume you whole. Jagged rocks, like the gnashing teeth of a ravenous beast, line the soil, and an undeniable presence lurks beneath the dirt—an entity, angry and ravenous, fixating its gaze upon you from some unfathomable abyss. Your heart pounds in your throat, your body aches as you battle against the relentless onslaught of the landslide that threatens to swallow you. Desperate pleas for help escape your lips, but they are stifled, drowned by the sheer terror coursing through your veins. It is a futile struggle. As the encroaching darkness threatens to engulf you entirely, a solitary ray of light pierces the void ahead, revealing an immense, archaic doorway shrouded in chains and sealed tightly shut. The black stone, weathered by untold eons, stands resolute amidst the encroaching darkness, beckoning you forth. One last, overwhelming surge from the lurking presence in the shadows draws your focus, the earth groaning as though it voices its displeasure, and then, in an instant, you are consumed, as light and darkness give way to earth and mire. You awaken, drenched in perspiration, the feverish remnants of this harrowing nightmare clinging to your consciousness. As you gaze out the window, the solitary sound of a pickaxe striking stone echoes within the darkness of your mind..

Echoes of Discovery Amidst the shroud of night, far beyond the borders of Urguan's dominion, the eerie symphony of hammers and pickaxes pierced the chilled, moonlit sky. These cacophonous echoes disrupted the usually tranquil and undisturbed ambience of the land, as if an awakening giant had stirred from its slumber. With the arrival of dawn, murmurs and rumors began to weave through the realm like an invisible current. Whispers carried tidings of a colossal excavation taking shape within the rugged expanse near Urguan, where the earth's embrace concealed untold secrets. A caravan, seemingly summoned from the corners of the world, had assembled on this remote frontier. Among their ranks stood archeologists, miners, and historians, a congregation united by a shared obsession to plumb the profound depths of the earth in search of a mysterious enigma. The once-peaceful landscape, marked by its stoic solitude, now bore witness to an unprecedented flurry of activity. A confluence of intellect and determination had gathered in a harmonious, yet almost otherworldly, symphony of purpose. Beneath the vast canopy of the sky, this eclectic assembly prepared to unearth relics, unveil the secrets of ages past, and perhaps even decipher the cryptic riddles whispered by the earth itself. As the sun cast its first rays upon the horizon, casting an ephemeral golden sheen upon the excavation site, the question that hung heavy in the air was not merely what they sought but why. What profound truths lay concealed beneath the soil, compelling this diverse consortium to brave the frigid nights and backbreaking labor? The answer, it seemed, was nestled within the layers of Aevos's ancient history, waiting to be revealed to those who dared to delve deeper into the enigmatic embrace of the earth.

I'm disappointed that you didn't do it last map, was so excited.

Lair PRO MC Name: White_Wolf Lair Name: Conclave of Whispers Lair Members: White_Wolf, TheIchorDruid, Bloomtiara, Tavalicious, Creete, TheNerdocalypse, Dyvynarth, Toddbrungy, Meteor__Dragon, Kaliphra, Onion_Cruncher, TheAmazingSewer, FunTzu, Ztrog, ggooose1, Krunos10, Monarch, SilvertheDM, MaeDayo, Morigung-oog Proposed Lair Locations (Highlight/draw at least three on the map): In no specific order: Lair Lore (supply link to an existing creature or other lore if being used as basis for this lair) (1000 words minimum): https://www.lordofthecraft.net/forums/topic/192726-%E2%9C%93-magic-lore-mysticism/ https://www.lordofthecraft.net/forums/topic/226728-culture-the-ashen-faith/?tab=comments#comment-1985310 Lair Build and Infrastructure (photos required, give dimensions): The Lair fits within the standard 75x75 normally given to Lairs. I’ve provided a detailed breakdown of the build below. Overall Structure - Outside View Halls of Salvation - Foyer Eternal Library Public Housing + Conclave Housing (Still minor WIP left) Garden of Solace + Meeting Area (Still minor WIP left) Ashen Halls The Inner Sanctum (Site of Future MArt) Why can this group not fulfill their roleplay niche in an existing settlement or nation? (Give a detailed answer and examples of how this has not worked in the past.): Going with the most obvious point first, a vast majority of the Court of Salvation are considered ‘Dark Mages’ / ‘Darkspawn’ by a vast majority of the playerbase and thus are unable to operate normally within the confines of most settlements. Though we’ve been making an effort on this front, it proves incredibly difficult and counterproductive to pursue the interactive storylines and narratives that we wish to pursue while tied to having to operate in existing settlements and infrastructure. Not to mention as well that certain players within the group such as myself are known for playing Dark Creatures / Dark Mages and we are viewed OOCly with some hesitancy when trying to integrate into certain settlements to provide those stories we want to develop and in cases this does lead to difficult situations that are unavoidable. The culture and faith we’ve spent the last 6 months painstakingly developing as well also holds its roots in Xionism / Shorewalking Philosophy which is in itself viewed as a Darkspawn creation and actively receives IRP pushback. (While this is in itself not a major problem, as we want to and should tackle this IRP, having a base to operate from will allow us to develop the culture further without immediately being killed on sight and push it to a wider audience.) The group is being held back from reaching it’s full potential of providing a compelling story for the overall server as a whole without a dedicated place to call its own and operate out of. Having a place to call our own that we can use to act as a base to launch those wider narrative arcs from about is the reason for me submitting this application today, and will benefit not only my group but the wider server as a whole. (Which i’ll get into below) It also assists us with giving a decent effort towards protecting Phylacteries and characters with PK clauses. How does this lair add to the greater world around it? How will its existence benefit its roleplay group and the server at-large?: The Court of Salvation follows our handcrafted culture of ‘The Ashen Faith’ as linked above, it was created by me for a few reasons. The first of which is bringing in new players who may not have had exposure to Dark Magics or Cosmic ideologies and give them a chance to experience something different while developing their own RP skillsets so they themselves can add greater value to the server. We also seek to offer a place for those who may have not had the best of hands dealt to them or have fallen in with the wrong groups OOCly and give them a second chance to essentially reform without judgment. The Court of Salvation with our Culture and Faith wishes to further develop a greater understanding of the Cosmos and make actual tangible progress that further develops and impacts the narrative of the server while including as many people in those events as possible and introducing them to the narrative arc of trying to free Descendants from ‘The Cycle’ perpetuated by Aenguls and carving their own realm from the Cosmos itself, free of any Aengulic interference. Unlike most Lairs as well, the uppermost portions of this build will be where we encourage public interaction and will be where people can come and learn about our Culture and Faith and will be an easily accessible point of getting involved with the Court of Salvation. Fun times for all.

As a lone figure strode along the ridge of a vast mountain range, gazing down at a valley of pestilence and decay, memories resurfaced within their mind. They recalled a profound conversation from a distant land, words spoken by a powerful entity whose name still eluded them. ‘...Descendant-kind cannot destroy Divinity, unless Divinity is what you wish to mantle..’ With each step, the figure carefully navigated the gruesome remains of a decaying creature, afflicted with a mysterious disease. Finally reaching the edge of the ridge, they peered down upon the nightmarish scene below. Monstrous creatures with twisted bodies and putrid flesh roamed relentlessly across a landscape of festering sores and toxic rivers. A foul wind blew across the valley, forcing the figure to shield herself momentarily, revealing a weary woman beneath the hood. ..The Manipulation of the Stream of Souls is all the Divines wish to achieve. You walk in the footsteps of Divinity, not knowing that you wish to become the same thing that you hunt... Silently, she gazed upon the dying world, one among countless others she had encountered in her cosmic odyssey through the infinite realms of reality. Few had experienced what she had, attaining a power many would find impossible to comprehend. Throughout the countless years of her existence, she had shattered the boundaries of possibility, transcending from a young orphan in Petra, struggling for survival, to being bestowed the Mortal Arts of the Shepards. Eventually, she shed her mortal coil and achieved the dreaded apotheosis of a Wight Barrowlord. And yet, her power continued to burgeon, liberating her from the confines of her domain and allowing her to traverse the physical barriers of the universe at will, commanding the very expanse of the Cosmos at her fingertips. However, a singular destiny loomed before her, the words of that fateful conversation resounding once more. ...if you wish to believe that the souls of a small hamlet would harm Divinity, then you shall enjoy your erasure from existence upon the creation of such a weapon... Astark lowered her gaze to her right hand, clenching a fistful of damp earth from her homeland. In the distance, the bestial creatures sensed her presence and roared hungrily, alerted to her intrusion in their blighted domain. "The Mantle of Divinity..." she murmured, pressing her closed fist to her chest, her eyes ablaze with cosmic radiance. In an instant, she vanished from the ridge, leaving behind a world consumed by decay. Her feet touched down upon the earthen floor of an underground cavern, concealed beneath the world of Aevos above. Invisible to the eye, fine grit and sand, along with the remnants of extinguished candles and incense from her escape ritual, were scattered about her feet. A passing hooded figure, an Acolyte adorned in red robes, hurried by, head bowed in reverence. "My Lord" they addressed her in passing. Astark offered no response to the nascent Acolyte, merely granting a fleeting acknowledgment with her gaze before the figure scurried deeper into the cavern. Continuing on her path, Astark contemplated the weight of the Mantle of Divinity—an insurmountable task that lay ahead. To become that which she sought to destroy... Approaching a weathered table strewn with scattered parchments, she swept her hand, causing the top layer to disperse, revealing a diagram depicting a massive gateway carved from stone, adorned with ancient runes, and featuring a stone phylactery at its center. A gateway to the forsaken plane.. She knew what she had to do if she was to secure freedom for her people, but what would it cost? Once again, the words of the entity echoed in her mind. ...if you wish to believe that the souls of a small hamlet would harm Divinity, then you shall enjoy your erasure from existence... In response, she released a breathless sigh of defiance, accepting the path she had now chosen for herself. "Then we shall take such power from the source.."

GONE WITHOUT A TRACE... Within the murky gloom of the Dreamers Marsh something is awry.. Notices of vanishings and missing persons adorn the notice boards in nearby settlements, particularly those of Nor’asath and Talar’nor. Scholars, Hunters, and Explorers, all courageous souls seeking to unravel the mysteries of the vast continent of Aevos, have mysteriously disappeared, leaving behind not a single trace. Yet, amidst the cloud of uncertainty that shrouds these disappearances, a handful of fortunate survivors have returned, their tales echoing through the raucous taverns. In a state of inebriation, they recount their harrowing experiences, painting a vivid picture of the horrors they encountered. They speak of monstrous creatures lurking in the shadows, swarms of chittering insects capable of stripping flesh within seconds. They describe how the very swamp itself seems to come alive, repelling any daring souls who venture into its nightmarish clasp. They share accounts of the earth splitting open, devouring entire patrols into its gaping maw. These brave few also make mention of what they call, the ‘Nightsong’ an abyssal shroud of darkness that descends upon the land from the sea, bringing with it the tormented souls of the damned. They claim that these unfortunate souls have been captured by the marsh, destined to forever waltz in joyous merriment against their will amidst the decrepit husks of crooked trees and murky waters of the Marsh, their eternal fate sealed within its grasp. One thing for certain is that those who venture into the Dreamers Marsh would do well to come prepared, lest they fall to the Dreamless Sleep and have their face plastered on notice boards like those who have come before. Gone.. without a trace..

((Everything discussed below is not known to the average Descendant and must be discovered through Roleplay)) ≿————————————-　❈　————————————-≾ The Court of Salvation Shepherds of the Lost, Servants of Mortality, Heralds of Salvation A depiction of the Tormented Legion besieging the walls of the Golden City in Aeriels Realm. ≿————————————-　❈　————————————-≾ The Ashen Steppe ≿————————————-　❈　————————————-≾ Concealed in Fog, Guided by Embers, Reborn through Ash ≿————————————-　❈　————————————-≾ Aeons ago, at the beginning of all things, there was naught but the cold, empty void of darkness. Suffering and Hope, Victory and Defeat, Mortality and Immortality.. The endless expanse of this dark place knew not what these concepts meant and had no place for them, there was just a tranquil silence. An all consuming fog of nothingness. Within this dark place lingered our Eternal Mother, and she grew lonely as the Aeons went by, there was none to share in her isolation and none to offer her companionship. So from this darkness she sought to forge this expansive nothing into the likeness of her image, perfection carved out among the stars. In order for Mother Cosm to accomplish such a feat, there would have to be a sacrifice, for even one as all encompassing as our Eternal Mother could not forge the material from the immaterial, something could not come from nothing. So came the ultimate sacrifice. Mother Cosm relinquished her eternal being upon the altar of this blank canvas, igniting her form in fiery embers and letting her ashes paint the empty darkness in her image. From her ashes in the wake of this sacrifice the Cosmos was reborn, but what good was this new Sanctuary if there were none to experience its gifts, to live and die as she had, to love and care for each other and share in one another's company as she had been unable to? In her dying breath she wrought The Cosmborne, Mortal Man, those who would come to be the direct Descendants of the Eternal Mother, her children. These Descendants would know not fear, nor suffering, nor would they want for anything in the Cosmos, the Eternal Mother had provided everything and these Descendants had been given a Sanctuary to be at peace and love one another as the Eternal Mother loved them. These Descendants would need a Caretaker however, one that would be able to ferry the souls of those who passed on to a realm where they could dwell on their experiences in life and eventually ascend into a higher state of being where they would be alike to what their Eternal Mother once was and in doing so aid the Caretaker in watching over their brethren as Mother Cosm had intended. ≿————————————-　❈　————————————-≾ ≿————————————-　❈　————————————-≾ This Caretaker saw what the Eternal Mother had wrought and grew jealous, in his arrogance he took the souls of the dying and collected their essence to reforge them into children of his own instead of ascending them as Mother Cosm had wished. He called these children of his the Aenguldaemons, and gifted unto them realms of their own to rule as they saw fit, for he did not believe that the children of the Eternal Mother were fit for the gifts they had been given if they could not live eternally to experience them. He abandoned the title of Caretaker and took upon himself the title of ‘The Creator’, this Creator gifted Mother Cosm’s creation to his Aenguldaemon children and ventured out into Cosmos to create and perfect all that he saw, but how could one perfect that which was already perfected? His meddling on this once unblemished canvas left scars and hideous tumors, worlds that fell to cataclysms or were simply left abandoned as forgotten failures. These blemishes tainted the once perfect cosmos, and the stars weeped in anguish. With ‘The Creator’ no longer around to supervise his children, they quickly fell to infighting and petty squabbling, carving up sections of the Cosmos for their own uses. They looked upon Mortal Man and saw them as nothing more than tools and playthings, to be used and discarded as they saw fit. The Aenguldaemons vied with each other to lay claim to the Descendants Souls, actively fighting one another before the youngest Aengul stepped in to intervene. This Aengul would take upon herself the abandoned title of Caretaker and she would play judge over these affairs between her brothers and sisters. Despite the Aenguldaemons best efforts however to control the Descendants, the very essence of Mother Cosm was so entwined within their very beings that they continued to rebel against their rule. So powerful and strong was their faith for the Eternal Mother and her desire to see her children live in peace that they could not be controlled. So the Aenguldaemons sent forth their servants onto the realm of Man and set about carving a bloody swathe through the Descendants, purging the realm and leaving it as a blank slate for their Masters desires. As the Descendants fell in battle, their souls were collected and left in a purgatory known as the Ebrietaes, forged within the realm of that young Aengul Aeriel. These Lost Souls would become known as The Tormented, forever destined to suffer beneath the careless gaze of the Caretaker. From these souls would the Aenguldaemons start anew by gathering up enough of The Tormented to be reforged into the Four Brothers and a new generation of Descendants without the imprint left upon them by the Eternal Mother. The rest were left to rot, forever damned to wander the wastes of Ebrietaes. But the perfect world the Aenguldaemons had sought was not to be, for even reborn and made anew.. That spark of hope, that spark of defiance was an immutable fact of Descendant existence and no amount of meddling would rid them of the Eternal Mothers mark. These new descendants however were flawed, through no fault of their own and would slowly stray from the path Mother Cosm had set for them. And so the Cycle continued, Aeons passing by until the first of the Four Brothers drew their last breath. Where Horen ventured to the vast Seven Skies, Krug ascended to the Stargush’Stroh; but the promised hereafter was not destined for Urguan and his brother Malin. Despite their piety and service to their ancestors or aspects, the Aenguls did not favor them or their descendants. Malin’s only salvation was worship, to tremble at the invocation of the three’s name. And so he knelt and groveled at their feet until his breath was claimed, a life spent begging; a life wasted revering— Oh, how the children of Malin suffered. Where great cities could have been built, a unity to last a millennium maintained instead was left abandoned. Rather, his efforts were thrust before the mercy of his deific masters, much like his brothers Horen and Krug. Though wrought in greed from the talons of Iblees, Urguan remained ignorant, upturning the notions of the Aenguls or Daemonic to pave paths of gold and valleys of jewels. But when caverns collapsed, and rubble buried his precious horde - when Urguan writhed within his deathbed, he was punished; for his life was not spent in servitude. He displeased the Aenguls and was instead thrown to the pits of Ebrietaes, where his eternal life would be spent in unending misery, tormented by the daemonic in spite of his greed. Only then did Urguan regret the material desires of his, how he bellowed in the chambers of damnation. But buried so far from the heavens, his voice was never heard. Or perhaps the Aenguls merely dismissed one they deemed irredeemable, for his chance had faded when the flesh from his bones had rotted. ≿————————————-　❈　————————————-≾ ≿————————————-　❈　————————————-≾ In the wake of the Four Brother’s demise, there was naught left by ruin.. The Anguldaemonic maintained their influence, tethers only squirming deeper beneath mortal flesh with each passing year. But without their chosen guardians, the four races began to deteriorate. The Dwed struck in a folly of avarice, the Uruk stampeding ruinous war, tainting earth in blood, all in the name of their false spirits. The Mali divided, splintered into three and akin their cousins, waging a war of pride amongst themselves. However, the children of Horen were no different, unwavering in their pretentious praises, all in the name of GOD and slaying all those they deemed heathens. Chaos had claimed the hearts of descendant kind. But much like their servants, the Aengul and Daemonic built their own grudges. Xan’s lance poised towards the heart of Azdromoth. Aeriel selfishly refused the innocent. Malchediael stalked Iblees and beset his eyes upon the destruction of the void, a plane constantly out of his reach. These wars scarred the Eternal Mothers Cosmos, once planes of flourishing peace now left barren and disastrous. Much akin to squabbling children, the Aenguls and Daemons battled further - laying holy walls about their promised lands. Aerial’s domain being the largest of them all. Her ivory towers cast shadows over these ruined lands and offered little pity despite the task of revitalisation being well within her abilities. But these lands devoid of life slowly developed a sense of anger, the chosen field a space for yet another, unending, cycle. The innocent souls that Aeriel had refused for the simple sin of obliviousness - a lack of awareness of her mere existence, became doomed by her negligence. Dismissed to roam the barren lands, whilst her faithful basked in merriment and joviality behind her sacred walls. Gradually the bitter poison of hate consumed these souls, morphing them into something else entirely; deemed the name, ‘The Tormented’. The more death claimed, the greater The Tormented army grew - abhor their blade and vengeance their shield. In a number of thousands, they marched toward the ivory city. Unbeknownst to Aeriel. Their first victim within this war was her walls, from the merciless beat of ethereal drums and collisions of rotten battering rams forged from the once flourishing life trees, the stone began to slowly chip away. Brick by brick, the once impenetrable holy walls began to crumble, hordes of Tormented Souls piling through like roaches betwixt cracked cement. It was only upon the last moment, that the cries of Aeriel’s loyalists claimed her attention whilst she lounged in her solitude at the highest peaks of her tower. The snarl of colliding steel rang about her sanctuary as the Lady of the Soul Stream hurried to the battlements, blade in hand. But no matter how many she and her flock cut down, more vindictive souls continued to pour through the broken walls— hungry for the fall of the Aengul. The battle remained one that lasted years, it was only by sheer luck that the Arch-Aengul managed to force the Tormented’s numbers back into the Barren Lands and with what little precious time she had left, her walls were reconstructed. Yet one lost battle did not deter The Tormented from the war they still demanded, from the justice they were owed. Centuries continued, these walls harassed and the once imposing domain of Aeriel fallen into a constant cycle of siege. Unrest without end. ≿————————————-　❈　————————————-≾ ≿————————————-　❈　————————————-≾ Amidst this perpetual turmoil there rose a young woman, an unremarkable figure whose importance far outgrew her humble origins. Born into poverty and unfortunate enough to be forsaken by the fates, the woman was little more than a street rat, left to fend for herself amidst the harsh realities of the realm. Her desperate pleas for respite to the Aenguls fell on deaf ears, her pious faith seemingly ignored by these divine beings; For she was but a speck, an insignificant nuisance in the greater scheme of things, much like a flea upon a hound. However, within this scrappy girl was an ever growing spark, the last dying vestige of the Eternal Mothers embrace and despite her lowly status, she found the desire to challenge the very order of things. It was here that she soon caught the eyes of deviants, her wandering steps stumbling right into those many would seek to avoid. This spindly girl was soon abducted, brought before preachers and indoctrinated within the Xionist faith. From there, the fate she clawed so desperately to escape was once more dealt upon her, forced to serve merciless masters who cared little for her welfare and more for what use she could offer. Gradually the cloth over her eyes began to fray and she slowly saw the suffering and devastation wrought by the hands of these Xionists. The futile efforts of theirs to remove the Aengul influence. Yet it was all for nothing. This poor damsel was soon conjoined, the spirit of an unfateful Norlandic keeper stolen from the hellish bellies and sewn to her own. Two became one. Yet it was this Norlandic Keeper who instilled a strong sense of justice, sharpening the girl’s wit to further challenge this foulness. Whilst the realms of life and death remained ever entangled within the clutches of the decaying Synod, this young girl struck an audacious choice, one that was given to her by the very Cosmos itself. As if the Cosmos beckoned her home and to beg of her to learn the truth, she was gifted with a forbidden tome of Cosmic truths, and suddenly the very breadth of the Cosmos was at her fingertips to traverse. It was on these otherworldly adventures that she came to realise that the Cosmos was not as she had thought it was, that there was a greater design beneath what she saw. It was at this moment she learned the truth about the Eternal Mother. Near craving to shatter herself from the suffocating grip of deceit, she embarked upon a journey. Her purpose was twofold: to illuminate the minds of the masses and expose the intricate web of lies she had unknowingly embraced. As whispers that hail under the name of defiance built up, a collection of yearning and liberation swelled within the cores of those like-minded, those who too sought a different reality than the one they had been delivered. They were drawn akin moths to the flame, each one seeking enlightenment amidst the shadows of a disenchanted realm. Thus, her humble following blossomed into a formidable assembly, united beneath the banner of an awakened consciousness. ≿————————————-　❈　————————————-≾ ≿————————————-　❈　————————————-≾ Yet the youth was no longer blind to the inherent flaws that plagued the existing ideologies. The Shorewalkers, with their passive natures, lacked the vigour required to effect true change, whilst the Xionists, consumed whole by their zealous pursuits, succumbed to aggression. She understood that a delicate equilibrium had to be forged, and thus she gathered her Kindled - a group of kindred spirits who shared her vision of what Mother Cosm had planned. Their foundations were laid: to carve a new realm free from the insidious influence of the Aenguldaemons, those malevolent who had ensnared the failing realms, and caused the ends of many inhabitable lands, for too long. No longer content with mortal limitations, they aspired to transcend the boundaries of their existence and be at one with the Eternal Mother once more. Their plans are a testament to the indomitable spirit of the descendant soul. This Realm of their own making would become known as The Ashen Steppe. ≿————————————-　❈　————————————-≾ The Principles of Salvation ≿————————————-　❈　————————————-≾ Destroy the Ebrietaes and Restore Order Redeem the Tormented Souls within the Elysian Wastes, overthrow the False Maiden and destroy the vaunted edifice of Aeriels Domain. This shall serve as a warning to all Aenguldaemons that the Children of the Eternal Mother are not to be trifled with. Suffer not the Immortal to Live So long as those born of Immortality live, they shall bring ruin to Mortality. Offer unto them the blade. Safeguard the Souls of Mortality Those born of Mortality are threatened by Creatures of the Night and those of Immortality. With our Sacrifices, we shall protect them. They must live so that we can free them from the Cycle. Do not let them fall into the clutches of the Aenguldaemons. Judge by merit, not mark. No creed or covenant should deny a soul its chance to seek the Ashen Steppe. Spread the Word The lies of the Aenguldaemonica run deep, deliver unto the blind the Embers of Truth and guide them to Salvation. Respect the Dead and those who aid them. The Tormented have suffered enough, those who have managed to free themselves from the forsaken realm must be treated with the same respect shown to your brothers and sisters of the Court. Guide them to Salvation as you would any other. Strive for Salvation and Guide those below you. You know the path, the Journey. It is your duty to guide others to the Salvation you know. Always embrace your Journey, do not allow others to lead you astray as they are destined to do. Know we hold the Truth We are the speakers of the absolute truth; we are the guardians of the Eternal Mothers plan. Others may speak their own words, but know that you are aware of the truth and that truth is the Court's word. Duty first to the Court, Second to Self, Third to Others. The Court is the last bastion of the Eternal Mothers truth; it must be protected so that the Cycle may be broken. Thus you owe it your service. You are second as you are a Child of the Eternal Mother who warrants salvation. Others are third for without protecting the Court and yourself, how are you going to lead others to the Salvation that is promised? ≿————————————-　❈　————————————-≾ The Journey and the Fragments of Faith A never-ending waltz through the Cosmos, guided by the hands of Mothers Chosen. ≿————————————-　❈　————————————-≾ Everything the Kindled believe in revolves around what they refer to as The Journey. The Journey is split into three distinctive Fragments, that of Fog, Embers and Ash. Each of these Fragments represents a unique sect within the culture and faith of the Kindled and acts as a guiding compass on their path to redemption and ultimately their ascension. The Journey and these three Fragments are also largely symbolic in nature as well, very heavily reflecting and drawing upon the Eternal Mother’s sacrifice to give birth to the Cosmborne and the Cosmos as it was at the beginning of everything. The Journey reflects upon how the Eternal Mother illuminated the all consuming Fog of Nothing that once was, igniting her form upon the altar of creation and letting her body burn away into ash, her ash giving new life to the universe and representing her ascension into something pure. In Modern times, the Kindled who follow this faith still draw upon this ideology, they view the Fragments as a Journey that represents one following in the footsteps of Mother Cosm. A Burdened Soul, those who have known nothing but the lies of the Aenguls are guided through the Fog of Falsehoods by the Guiding Embers of Truth. As they learn more of the faith and experience the Journey of Life as intended by the Eternal Mother, that burgeoning Ember becomes a flame, thus ‘Kindling’ the Burdened and marking them as an enlightened member of the Faith. A Kindled. This does not mark the end of their journey however, the Kindled then seeks to spread the word and enlighten others and when all is said and done their flame shall consume them and they shall be reduced to ash. Marking their ascension from the Mortal Plane and leaving behind their ashes as an example for all so that new Kindled may emerge. As the Eternal Mother intended, she wishes for the Cosmborne, or Modern Day Descendants to experience life to the fullest until the day they die, where they were intended to pass on to a realm to reflect upon the meaning of what they experienced before finally ascending fully and completely to become one with the Eternal Mother and the Cosmos once more. The Court of Salvation has structured their hierarchy around the three Fragments and helps to denote progression within the Court as well as progress on an individual's Journey. ≿————————————-　❈　————————————-≾ The Embers Flames of Truth, Sparks of Hope, Cinders of Salvation ≿————————————-　❈　————————————-≾ T H E E M B E R S H I E R A R C H Y T H E T E A C H E R S, T H E B E A C O N S, T H E G U I D E S The Embers, the first fragment, the gateway to the Court of Salvation in which signifies the essence of truth, hope and salvation. It marks the initiation of the anointed into the realm of enlightenment, bequeathing them the name of Burdened. The responsibilities of the fragment of The Embers are keepers, tasked to educate, instruct and guide those beneath them. These Knowledge conduits are of the utmost importance. A backbone for the court that could not be achieved without these scholars. They secure the safety of tradition, knowledge and faith. Within this faithful court, there is a place for all who seek a road of selflessness that can only be paved by reaching unknown horizons that do not grant comfort. T H E E M B E R E D H I E R O P H A N T S The utmost high and respected title within The Embers, Embered Hierophants. Those who are seasoned shepherds are drawn to the calling of evangelizing and lecturing. Those that have surpassed all statuses of Kindled and seek to remain within the fragment to further guide the newer flocks. The responsibilities of the Embered Hierophant are to oversee all those beneath them and to appoint those worthy of suitable roles, based on their merit and dedication. Any change and decision will be made by the Embered Hierophants. Besides decision-making, they are also known for hosting rituals that are considered greater. T H E I N C A N D E S C E N T I L L U M I N A T O R S The Incandescent Guardians, positioned as the esteemed auxiliary to The Embered Hierophants, hold a crucial role within the court’s hierarchy. Suited to those with a luminous presence, they are expected to dedicate themselves to nurturing the Kindled, working closely with them through immersive lessons and educational sermons. To ignite the sparks of curiosity and guide them through their spiritual journey. As trusted confidants to The Embered Hierophants, they serve as conduits of knowledge, relaying the Court’s visions and teachings. It is the Guardian’s responsibility to ensure all Burdened progress in spiritual enlightenment, to keep attentiveness during times of seances and host the lesser Rites & Rituals. T H E S C O R C H E D S O O T H S A Y E R S The Scorched are an esteemed collective within the courts, encompassing the Soothsayers, Oracles, and Prophercisers who possess an intimate connection with the Mother Cosm. Entrusted with the unravelling of the intricacies of fate, interpreting the signs and omens, and delving into the depths of superstition which all factor to the future of the Court of Salvation. They serve as the bridge between realms, sharing their profound knowledge of fates and prophecies with the Embered and other fragments of the court. Usually enigmatic souls, veiled in mystery, guide seekers through the labyrinth of existence, empowering them to shape their destinies and navigate the intertwining paths of life and the intricate tapestry known as death. T H E F E R V E N T S C R I B E S The Fervent Scribes within the courts bear the tectonic responsibility of recording the realm’s historical events, composing sermons and rites for the Illuminators and Hierophants, gathering and safeguarding knowledge within the Court’s libraries, and meticulously documenting prophecies spoken by the Soothsayers as well as any grand achievements accomplished by members of the courts. With steady hands and quills dipped in ink, they record the unfolding of time, capturing triumphs to vanguard traditions within the Court of Salvation. T H E B U R D E N E D The Burdened, freshly introduced to the profound truths unveiled by the Court of Salvation, occupy the lowest echelon within the sacred fragment of The Embers. They embark on a transformative journey, imbibing the fundamental principles of truth, sanguinity, and salvation. To ascend through the court’s hierarchy, they must first undergo four trials bestowed upon them by the Hierophant, Illuminated, Soothsayers and Scholars. These crucibles of growth test their resilience and understanding, paving the way for enlightenment. Upon completion, a pivotal choice awaits them: to embrace a position within the fragment of The Embers or venture into the second fragment of Fog, where fresh challenges and mysteries beckon. ≿————————————-　❈　————————————-≾ The Fog Shrouds of Falsehoods, Veils of Lies, Mists of Protection ≿————————————-　❈　————————————-≾ T H E F O G H I E R A R C H Y T H E S H A D O W S, T H E W H I S P E R S, T H E S E N T I N E L S The Fog, the second fragment, serve as combatants of the Court of Salvation. Embodying the murky sentiment of falsehood, lies and protection. Within The Fog, anointed individuals undergo a secondary initiation, given the name The Veiled, signifying their entry into a realm shrouded by deceit and guarded by warriors, spies, and protectors. Their paramount duty is an unwavering dedication to the safeguarding of the courts, employing any means necessary to ensure their integrity. Renowned as deceitful savages by those outside their realm, they steadfastly execute their covert roles, maintaining the Court of Salvation as their utmost priority. T H E M I S T W A R D E N T H E H A N D O F S A L V A T I O N The Mistwarden, otherwise known as The Hand of Salvation within the Ashen council, assumes the all-encompassing role of overseer in matters of conflict. From times of war and battle to the training of enlightened seekers, their duty as a general within the hierarchy knows no bounds. Embodying the essence of the fragment of Fog, the Mistwarden upholds its fundamentals while ensuring order and subtlety within its ranks. Their sole allegiance lies with the welfare of the court and its members, prioritising their safety above all. With unwavering devotion, they nurture and guide, instilling values of honour, discipline, and unity. The Mistwarden’s strategic prowess and acumen are wielded to defend the court’s sanctity, orchestrating forces from the shadows. T H E S H R O U D E D The Shrouded are the esteemed second-in-command to the Mistwarden, assuming an important role in the realm of covert operations. Entrusted with the gathering of critical information, the process to become a spymaster is a complex and rigorous process. Beyond overseeing a network of skilled spies, the Shrouded shoulders the responsibility of educating and training their operatives, ensuring their flawless execution in the field. Every action or word spoken must be meticulously orchestrated to evade even the slightest misstep that could compromise the sacred duty entrusted to the fragment of Fog. In the absence of the Mistwarden, The Shrouded wields the highest authority within the fragment. T H E W A T C H E R S The Watchers, a meticulously chosen sect of specially selected spies commanded by The Shrouded, dedicate themselves to a covert mission of seeking valuable information. They forge deep bonds and expand their knowledge by skillfully adopting a myriad of disguises that allow them to seamlessly blend amongst their mortal kin. Their purpose is to serve as the eyes and ears of the Court of Salvation. While they seldom involve themselves in direct conflict, The Watchers are ever vigilant, prepared to engage in combat when the courts or their own self-preservation demands it, thus making the skill of swordsmanship a required skill. Operating in the shadows, they remain as hidden agents, their existence is known only to the select few who understand the vital role they play in the intricate affairs of the realm. T H E U M B R A L S E N T I N E L S The Umbral Sentinels, devout phalanx entrusted with the solemn vow of safeguarding the esteemed members of the Salvation flock. Often thought of as zealous militants, they tirelessly stand stalwart in the face of calamity. Brutally conditioned through a diverse array of methods, they undergo rigorous preparation for a multitude of confrontations that may arise. Their unwavering dedication is primarily directed towards the defence of the courts, ensuring the safety of those who fall beneath their ward. However, akin to a shroud of impenetrable fog, the Sentinels frequently engage in covert conflicts, hidden from prying eyes, striking with swift and meticulous precision against their unsuspecting adversaries. Their fidelity to preserving the sanctity of the Salvation flock knows no bounds as they carry out their sacrosanct duty with insurmountable resolve. T H E V E I L E D The Veiled, esteemed as the initiates of the revered Fragment of Fog, are often considered inexperienced and nescient to their calling. Recognizing their potential, the seasoned Umbral Sentinels willingly take a Veiled under their wing, assuming the role of figurative apprenticeship. In this sacred partnership, the Sentinels impart the profound significance of the Fragment and its core principles while providing introductory instructions to refine their burgeoning swordsmanship skills. This journey is not without its tribulations, as the Veiled must prove themselves through an arduous testing process. When a Watcher deems their protégé sufficiently prepared, the Veiled is expected to undertake a series of four trials, analogous to those they once faced within the Fragment of Embers. These trials are assigned by the inscrutable figures of The Mistwarden, The Shrouded, The Watchers, and The Umbral Sentinels themselves, solidifying their ascent within the ranks of the chosen few. ≿————————————-　❈　————————————-≾ The Ash From Ash we were born, and to Ash we shall return. ≿————————————-　❈　————————————-≾ The Ash, the third and final fragment, serves as leaders of the Court of Salvation. Embodying the final stage of the Journey those who serve on the Ashen Council are generally the eldest, wisest and the closest to completing their Journey and being ferried to the Ashen Steppe. Within The Ash, anointed individuals undergo a third and final initiation, given the name The Reborn, signifying their preparedness for the end of their Journey and the beginning of their Ascension. Their paramount duty is an unwavering dedication to guiding the direction of the Court and ensuring the compliance of all those beneath their purview. T H E V O I C E O F S A L V A T I O N The Voice of Salvation is the current head of the Court of Salvation, this position is held by the Wight Astark. The Voice of Salvation seeks to guide the Court and all those within it along their Journey; they are concerned with bringing the Ashen Steppe into reality and ultimately sacrificing themselves to become something far greater than anything in the Cosmos. An entity of power is comparable to that of the Aenguldaemons so that she can safeguard the Ashen Steppe from Aenguldaemon intervention. Such a sacrifice will prevent her from becoming one with the Eternal Mother, but the safeguarding of the Ashen Steppe and the Kindled is her utmost priority. T H E A S H E N C O U N C I L The Ashen Council is composed of The Reborn and the individual heads of both The Embers and The Fog. This represents the effective governing body of the Court of Salvation and is where the decisions regarding the Court's future are made. The Voice of Salvation however has the final say. ≿————————————-　❈　————————————-≾ The Cycle A game of torment and suffering forced upon us. ≿————————————-　❈　————————————-≾ A repeating theme within the Ashen Faith is that of the constant interference and machinations of the Aenguldaemons in the Eternal Mother’s creation. When the Cosmborne were torn asunder by the Aenguls and their essence was used to create what we know as the Descendants, this marked the beginning of the Cycle. Since the inception of the Descendants, they have known naught but suffering and torment, all at the hands of the self-proclaimed deities they are supposed to worship. From one disaster to another, the Descendants are forced to endure one calamity to the next as a result of Aenguldaemon interference in mortal affairs, all for the sake of their sick amusement. This Cycle is doomed to repeat itself for eternity, but the Kindled can free themselves from it. The Ashen Steppe represents freedom from this Cycle of torment. ≿————————————-　❈　————————————-≾ The Tormented Host Children of the Eternal Mother, Condemned to suffering by the Aenguldaemons ≿————————————-　❈　————————————-≾ Within the Court of Salvation, the ranks of the Tormented that have been granted safety and begun their Journey under the purview of the Court are called The Tormented Host. The Tormented Host is all those undead and unfortunate souls who have been plucked from the forsaken realm of Ebrietaes to aid the Court and begin their own Journey towards Salvation. The Tormented is granted a measure of independence to form their own Rites and Rituals to help them be granted a measure of comfort and understanding as they seek to complete their Journey. Hierarchy of the Tormented Host The Tormented Host have been allowed to establish their own Hierarchy independent of the three sects within the Ashen Faith. While the Tormented Host still follows the Ashen Faith as any other do, their state of undeath obviously offers them different challenges they must overcome and the Ashen Council recognizes this. The Rites and Rituals, Omens and certain beliefs of the Tormented as well as their Hierarchy which is transcribed in their own forsaken tongue have been set up to help them overcome their unique challenges and guide them to Salvation. Urk’ezg – The Lost The ranks of the Urk’ezg are made up of mostly Revenants, however, may also include Pale Knights who were brought into existence by Mystics and skipped their ghost phase. Regardless, the ranks of the Urk’ezg or The Lost are composed of those who are new and unfamiliar with their undeathly state and who has not yet been set on their Journey towards Salvation. For those in this rank, progression further in the Hierarchy often means getting used to their state of unlife and transforming into a Poltergeist or Specter, or in the case of a Pale Knight, becoming more informed in the Ashen Faith and beginning their own Journey. The ranks of the Urk’ezg represent the lowest point in the Tormented Host. Quzelek – The Walkers The ranks of the Quzelek, often referred to by the living as ‘The Walkers’ are composed of all manner of ghosts from Specters to Poltergeists and can also include some Pale Knights. Those who call themselves Quzelek have begun their Journey towards Salvation but have yet to dedicate themselves to or prove themselves before a particular path within the Tormented Host. The Quzelek have some knowledge about ghostly culture and traditions but have not yet decided to pursue a path as a Sethorek or Bilneth yet. Sethorek – The Guides Although any can be within the ranks of the Sethorek, they are usually composed of Specters and Pale Knights. Spectres are preferred due to their kind hearted nature as compared to the ferocious nature of a Poltergeist. However, this does not deny a Poltergeist the chance of becoming a Sethorek and a Kindled Shepard may even aid a Poltergeist in their transition to a Revenant if the situation calls for it. All Sethorek or Guides as they are called by the living are appointed to this position by Al’Urk’Yenth. The Guides teach the ranks of the Tormented the culture of the undead, show them how to act and behave and help them come to terms with their state of unlife. They are able to determine when a Urk’ezg can be called a Quzelek and often work with the living within the different sects of the Ashen Faith to help them impart such knowledge to their undeathly kin. Bilneth – The Guardians The ranks of the Bilneth can be seen as Protectors and Guardians and are mainly Pale Knights and Poltergeists. Though Spectres are generally seen as too pacifistic to be Guardians, those willing or beginning to transition to a Poltergeist can still become Guardians. All Bilneth are Anchored by Kindled Shepards, granting them the ability to more easily defend against physical threats and allowing them to adorn heavy arms and armour. The role of the Bilneth is to ensure their fellow undead are protected at all times and to ensure that the sanctity of the Court of Salvation and those beneath its purview are not disturbed. Urk’yenth – The Aged Finally the Urk’yenth are the last rung on the ladder of the Tormented Hosts hierarchy. This rank is made up, almost exclusively, of Wights and Pale Lords as they are the strongest and wisest of the undead host, oftentimes having experienced several lifetimes in comparison to their younger brethren. The Urk’yenth are considered to be elders and can appoint undead to the spot of Guide and/or Guardian. The Urk’yenth or the Aged as they are called by the Living are responsible for teaching Guides and Guardians how to act and will educate them on the Ashen Faith and the Culture of the Tormented. The Urk’yenth will hold seats within the Ashen Council and represent the voice of the Tormented Host in the affairs of the Court of Salvation. ≿————————————-　❈　————————————-≾ Omens of the Tormented ≿————————————-　❈　————————————-≾ The Tormented have overtime developed their own Omens and Superstitions given their widely varying experiences and state of mind. Those listed below are the most common Omens the Tormented relate to. Broken Shackle/Chain Symbolizes freedom and salvation from what has bound you, freedom from The Cycle. Looping Chain/Chain that connects to itself The looping chain symbolizes being trapped or being held back by enslavement. Often relates to The Cycle spoken about in the Ashen Faith. Cup holding a Flame Represents the Journey and the Kindling of an individual’s flame. The burning away of falsehoods and the enlightenment to one’s path. Often related to Success and completing achievements. Upside down Cup Represents Failure or the abandonment of one’s path and Journey. Those who embody the Upside Down Cup are in need of redemption and to prove themselves worthy once more. Dead Silver Tree The Silver Tree is often associated with Aeriel. The Dead Silver Tree symbolizes strength and resilience in the face of adversity and can also mean triumph over the Aenguldaemons. Namely Aeriel. A Bowl of Ash A Bowl of Ash represents the completion of one's Journey. It represents Knowledge and Wisdom gained and their ascension to the Ashen Steppe. ≿————————————-　❈　————————————-≾ Tormented Festivities and Holidays ≿————————————-　❈　————————————-≾ Though the Tormented often know nothing of joy and are prone to wallow in their undeathly state of suffering and experience a great deal of mental stress, the Kindled and the Tormented have devised ways of attempting to offer a semblance of comfort for the Lost. Holidays and Days of Celebration happen whenever an Urk’yenth declares, or when multiple Sethorekka declare. Day of the Tormented Ghostly beings will perform acts of service for one another, ensuring that their spirits are high and that they are comfortable in the afterlife. Because ghosts do not generally need items, it’s more often that words are exchanged rather than gifts, taking the time to enjoy one another’s companionship. Day of Remembrance The Dead seek out their family and relatives. They speak with them and may offer gifts, it’s a way to ensure the dead do not forget where they came from. If one’s family/relatives are all no longer alive, then they will go to either their grave to talk, speak with their ghostly relatives, or aid others in speaking with their families. If a Kindled Shepard is available, the Dead’s lost relatives may be contacted in a Séance from the beyond, to offer communion once more. Day of Strength The Day of Strength is started when the Rite of Elevation is completed, specifically for when a Ghost is seen fit to be elevated to the position of a Pale Knight within the Court of Salvation. On the day this happens, those involved in the holiday are encouraged to show off their strengths and be proud of themselves. Ghosts will tell stories of their greatest achievements and speaking down to one's self or others is considered to be more than just disrespectful. The day also includes ghosts brawling with each other to see who among them is the strongest, with other contests of strength and skill common. At the end of the day, the final event sees the newly elevated Pale Knight engaging in combat with several Ghosts in order to prove their strength. Little care is given to mortals as this is a celebration for the undead. Mortals however are welcome to watch and partake if invited. Year of Rebirth The Year of Rebirth is started when the Ritual of Broken Bindings is done and will last for an entire year. This represents a significant event for the Tormented and the Court of Salvation as a whole. During this holiday, spectral undead are known to bring gifts and praise to the crowned Wight or Pale Lord who started the holiday. Word is spread throughout undead communities in order to bring in more praise about the new Urk’yenth. In addition to praising the Wight or Pale Lord, undead are encouraged to be kinder to the Living and, especially, their fellow ghostly companions. Gifts may be given to the Living while undead are known to receive words of affirmation and symbols of good tidings. ≿————————————-　❈　————————————-≾ Rites and Rituals ≿————————————-　❈　————————————-≾ Within the Ashen Faith and the Court of Salvation there exist several Rites and Rituals that are constantly evolving and changing. These Rites and Rituals serve many purposes and often form a core part of the Faith and the Court's proceedings. Rite of Passing The Rite of Passing is performed at the grave of one who has recently died or experienced banishment to the Ebrietaes with the shattering of their phylactery. The purpose of this Rite is to wish them well in their passing and to wish them victory in their battles against the Aenguldaemons that seek to control their soul in the afterlife until such a time the Kindled and the Court of Salvation can save them. A Broken Shackle or Chain is placed upon the grave, a small phrase is offered to the deceased to give them safe travels and to embolden their heart for the trials ahead. If able, an object belonging to or representing the newly dead is placed upon their grave in accompaniment to the Broken Shackle. This Rite is a temporary Rite until such a day the Ashen Steppe is brought into creation and the souls of the dead are ushered into its tranquil embrace. Ritual of Broken Bindings The Ritual of Broken Bindings is performed when a Wight or Pale Lord has been crowned. It also serves as a celebration for them as it’s a true connection between Mortals and the Tormented and serves to further them along their Journey towards Salvation and the Eternal Mother. Chains painted in gold colouration will be wrapped around the body of the crowned Wight or Pale Lord and an upside down cup will be placed in front of them. An Urk’yenth will then perform a chant in either common, Blackspeech or a mix of the two giving praise to the union of the Tormented and the Living beneath the Ashen Faith and the Eternal Mother’s watchful gaze. Afterwards, the chains will be broken apart and the cup will be set right side up, a flame then being lit within the cup. After this moment a celebration will occur, this marks the beginning of the holiday called the ’Year of Rebirth’. Rite of Elevation This ritual is performed when a ghost has proven themselves worthy of being elevated to the position of a Pale Knight by an Urk’yenth. Similar to the Ritual of Broken Bindings the Pale Knight shall be wrapped in chains painted of golden colouration and made to break them after a chant is given by either a Urk’yenth or Sethorek. When the Rite is complete the newly elevated Pale Knight will call for the Day of Strength and celebration for the Tormented is to occur throughout that day. In addition to this, as the chant is finished, a tapestry depicting a dead tree will be burned along with a personal belonging to the Pale Knight once held as a ghost. This is to represent the Pale Knights holding within themselves the Strength, Wisdom and Knowledge of their past life as they move forward in their Journey. This ash is kept within a small pouch on the Pale Knight’s body as a reminder or kept with their Menhir. Ritual of the Wise This ritual is performed to name someone as a Sethorek, it’s led by an Urk’yenth. A cup with a flame is placed in front of the one that will become the Sethorek and the Urk’yenth will place a tapestry of a Bowl of Ash around the undead. With the cup, they will light the tapestry on fire, speaking words of wisdom as it's burnt. When the words are finished and the tapestry is ash, they will properly be named a Sethorek. This ash is kept on the newly named Sethorek’s person or kept safe with their personal belongings. Ritual of the Strong This ritual is performed to name someone as a Bilneth, it’s led by an Urk’yenth. A cup with a flame is placed in front of the one that will become the Bilneth and the Urk’yenth will place a tapestry of a Dead Silver Tree around the undead. With the cup they will light the tapestry on fire, speaking words of strength and power as its burnt. When the words are finished and the tapestry is ash, they will be named a Bilneth. This ash is kept on the newly named Bilneth’s person or kept safe with their personal belongings. Overture of Redemption There will come a time when a Kindled strays from their Journey, fall off the path that the Eternal Mother had set forth for them. This may happen for a variety of reasons from misunderstanding the faith, deeming oneself not worthy or being led astray by the hands of the Aenguldaemons servants. Those within the Ashen Faith are not without mercy however, everyone of Mother Cosms children are deserving of a chance of redemption no matter how much influence the Maleficar of the Aenguls may seek to afflict their soul with. Those in need of Redemption are to have their hands and arms bound in ropes and chain that also leads over their shoulders to a heavy block of stone upon their back. This stone and the bindings represents their burdens and the binding influence of others that sought to lead them astray. The individual is then tasked with going to each major city upon the continent and seeking to educate at least one person upon the Ashen Faith and explain their sins and the Journey they now walk. When this task is complete they will return to the Court of Salvation and speak with the leaders of Ash and Embers about their journey. To finally complete their Journey of Redemption, they must accept the pain of their sins and seek to burn them away in fire. The frayed ropes and chain bound about their arms are held over a bonfire, the heated chains burning their flesh and marking them while the frayed ropes burn away and release the chains and heavy weight upon their back. Releasing their burden. The individual is then accepted back into the Ashen Faith with open arms. For the undead, they undergo a similiar trial, the undead being bound in chains of aurum and forced to endure the pain of their sins while a Wight or Kindled Shepard harvests a fragment of their soul, a symbolic gesture of cutting away the sin from their soul. ≿————————————-　❈　————————————-≾ Important Terminology ≿————————————-　❈　————————————-≾ Eternal Mother/Mother Cosm: The Mother of all Creation, an important figure within the faith of the Ashen Steppe, she gave birth to the Cosmos and the Cosmborne. The Cosmborne: The direct Descendants of the Eternal Mother or those who are perceived to be direct fragments of the Cosmos or the Eternal Mother’s very being. The Ashen Steppe: A realm free of the machinations of the Aenguldaemons, a place carved from the cosmos where those who pass on can reflect upon their lives in peace and tranquillity and eventually ascend to become one with the Cosmos and thus Mother Cosm. The Burdened: Those Descendants in modern times who have known nothing but the falsehoods and lies told to them since their birth by the Aenguldaemons and their followers. Those who have not yet been shown the guiding embers of salvation. The Kindled: Those Descendants in modern times who have been shown the guiding embers of salvation and have progressed far enough to become kindled by their knowledge. They know the truth of the Cosmos and have had their eyes opened to the falsehoods of the Aenguldaemon. Salvation: It is often spoken about in the faith of the Ashen Steppe that through the Journey one will eventually find Salvation. This speaks to being freed from the suffering and the endless cycle of torment the Aenguldaemons have created and once more becoming one with the Eternal Mother’s embrace. The Cycle: An endless cycle of suffering and torment perpetuated by the hands of the Aenguldaemons for their sick amusement. It represents the perpetual interference and machinations of the Aenguldaemons in mortal affairs and the constant calamities the Descendants face. The Journey: The Journey represents a descendant's path through life, and is what the Kindled believe to be the Eternal Mother’s plan for her Cosmborne. It represents the cycle of death and rebirth into something greater and is something that requires reflection. The Tormented: The Tormented are those unfortunate souls of the Cosmborne and the Descendants in modern times who have died and been ushered to the realm of the False Caretaker, only to have been deemed unworthy. These Tormented souls are waging an eternal war against the Golden City of Aeriel in an effort to free themselves. The Court of Salvation: A group of Mystics, Undead and Descendants who follow in the Eternal Mother’s footsteps. They seek to break free of the Cycle forced upon them by the Aenguldaemons and represent the largest group who follow the Ashen Faith. ≿————————————-　❈　————————————-≾ Credits to: @TheIchorDruid - For writing, formatting and overall orchestration of the culture. @White_Wolf - For writing, brainstorming and hauling together final details. @ToddBrungy - For editing, criticism and structure. @dntknowwhy - For editing and feedback. @Meteordragon - For the structure of phantom culture.

Can't wait for you guys to see the Bestiary! Pretty keen for next map.

You notice a faded parchment that catches your eye, torn and weathered by the elements. The once ornate missive has become a reflection of the message it carries, bearing signs of decay and neglect, long forgotten. The faint signs of golden filigree around the parchment's edge have long since lost their shine. A Mongoose is stamped at the bottom of the page, its meaning lost to time. As I travel through the war-torn landscape of the realm, I feel as though I am the last of a bygone age, a fading memory destined to be forgotten, with titles that once sparked reverence and hope, now barely carrying a glimmer of recognition in the eyes of descendants. Everywhere I go I see the same signs, the dreaded cycle that has plagued the Descendant races since the beginning of time is once again churning. The once burgeoning flame of faith and hope is dwindling, now naught but embers as the armies of the night surround us on all sides, and reports of the sea becoming impossible to traverse increase. Is this truly how it is supposed to end? It would appear there is no escaping our fate this time. And on matters of faith, my beloved Lady.. I fear I am the last of your faithful servants. In ages past when our Order stood strong, one could find your faithful in any city, granted a measure of safety by our wards and sanctuaries. The prayers and praise once given to you however are nowhere to be heard or seen, even your holy symbol of the Mongoose that which I still carry has lost all meaning. It pains me, the suffering I feel on your behalf brings me to tears and I weep for the forgotten sacrifices of your faithful. I recall the days of The Holy Alliance, the trinity of Xan, Tahariae, and my Lady Aeriel standing as a united front against the forces of the dark. And I recall the folly that was to be our downfall. Though this chapter of history is lost to the ages, I remember the days when the Alliance fractured and we were hunted by those we once called allies. Despite the gifts of longevity and knowledge you bestowed upon us, we could not escape the chains of our mortality and were bound to make mistakes we thought were beneath us. The fall of our Order was inevitable, for we stood divided amongst ourselves. In the end I believe my Brothers and Sisters lost sight of our purpose, and it led us down a path from which we could never truly return. I remember the Elven Prince and the then Master Sage standing at odds with each other over a petty dispute, and I watched as battle lines were drawn, brothers and sisters ready to turn on each other, we turned our blades on one another instead of the true enemy. Though I knew then it was wrong, I still loved each of them like my own family, and even though I was bestowed the title of Justicar by the Master Sage to hunt down the rogues, I could not bring myself to do such. We had strayed from the path, we had forsaken our duty. The fall of our beloved Order followed swiftly, and the survivors scattered to the corners of the world to live out the rest of their days in the shadows. The strength and vitality of my youth, emboldened by the gifts you had once given have long since faded. The sands of time are beginning to take a noticeable toll upon my form, exacting from me the heavy price of a life lived in service. Every battle with the Dark Forces of this Realm leaves me with one further scar, one further injury, with every battle i grow weaker, slower.. one day I will be too slow to react and it will be the last mistake I make. Some days I feel as if I hear the ringing of Sokars bell, a reminder that she waits to escort me to your city once my service in this realm is done. I do not weep for this however, service to you my Lady has given me purpose where none existed prior. I only hope that I may impart what wisdom and knowledge I have gathered to the next generation before I am to join you in your Golden City. During my isolation, I had many years to think about the events that led to the fall of our Order, to learn and to grow. Though the Order was no more, I had vowed an Oath to you my Lady and remained faithful. In these long years attempts at restoring the Order were made, but they were doomed to repeat the mistakes of our forebears, the return of old Ascended sparked a fire in those who flocked to their banner but they failed to learn from history. During this resurgence I was granted the title of Sage of Ruin and was granted access to our ancient texts and histories. When this newfound Order disbanded once more like those that had come before I took what texts I could and kept them safe, for I knew that one day the knowledge kept within would be needed again. I long ago vowed an Oath of Silence. To naught allow a single utterance to part my lips so that I may instead watch, listen and learn. I traveled alone, never staying in one place for long, lending my hand to those who needed it and fighting the dark where I found it and keeping the purity of the Descended Souls intact. I now know your gifts were never meant for mortal hands, was your gift a test all along? We did not need it to carry out our duty, I see this now. Though the Descendants may not realise it, your absence is felt greatly. I have tried searching for my lost Kin but they are nowhere to be found. I fear they have long since passed on to be by your side and that we are never going to see the likes of Elvira, Ravondir or my teacher Dwalin ever again. These names are a struggle to keep within my mind, I find myself losing my grip upon them ever since I abandoned my search. It matters not however, I am single minded in my efforts to uphold my Oath and carry on the legacy I am burdened with. I have since taken up refuge with the Children of the Lion, even they have forgotten the wars fought between them and my kind, even they have forgotten the likes of my Order and your name. I do not blame them, but it does truly make me feel like a relic, out of place in a new generation. It shames me to say this, but despite my faith there were days I had thought you had abandoned us, never to return. I spent hours studying our ancient teachings, looking for any sign that you would return. Yet, I was left with no answers until I met a young elven man living with the Lions Flock. This was the sign I did not realise I was searching for, in my darkest hour you sent him to me with a relic to bestow upon me your blessing for but the briefest of moments. To feel your song flowing through my body once more, to feel your embrace and know that despite your absence you still watch over me from afar. It instilled me with the knowledge that I was on the right path. To think, this man who my Order had taken care of all those years ago, had fostered and raised as a child now stood as a champion of the holy trinity. At least we did one thing right. Dear reader, I hope you do not mind the ramblings of an old forgotten Sage. I understand that my Lady’s song is no longer felt as presently as it once was but do know that she is there, watching over our souls from afar. My reader, though we stand assaulted on all sides, know that you may find peace and solace in your faith. Should you wish to learn of the Caretaker of Souls, my Lady Aeriel, then seek me out. Hope is not yet lost while I still draw breath. -Valeria Soulheart, Sage of Ruin, Justicar of the Ascended and the Last Sage of Aeriels Chosen.

Favourite RP moment?

A lot of people in nation leadership positions are afraid to engage in events that may offer truly engaging RP and actual consequences. But this also stems from a lack of communication. I find that the best way to go about running these sort of events is to reach out to their leadership, establish friendly relations and explain what you want to do. Communication is generally what solves a lot of the ooc issues people have. I always go back to this because its the best example ive got, when i led the Mystic War on Fenn i reached out to monkee to explain my intentions and while there was initial pushback he realised that i really only cared about creating fun RP for everyone involved. Over multiple events both Fenn and the Mystics took multiple losses and the final event even had the potential to spawn a regional antag. Nothing was scripted, everything was influenced by player actions and real consequences were there from destruction of multiple buildings and areas in Fenn to the ultimate loss of the Mystic apparition and their menhirs. Throughout the whole event there was zero staff intervention, multiple big CRP fights and the final Siege of Fenn was about 45 player CRP total and i didn't even have to engage with the warclaim system at all. And the best part there were no ooc arguments and everyone had fun! I truly believe insurgency RP has a place and can provide great fun for everyone involved if done properly abd both parties come to the table with the right intentions.

I've sent you my feedback in DM's already, but i love this piece to no end. Should this be accepted it will allow for a specific niche to be properly carved out on the server that hasn't yet had a chance to be fully explored. And with lore pieces such as Shuul and further seaborne/water themed creatures that can be written there is an opportunity present here to really carve out an interesting story next map for those who get involved with Thallassos. Overall, big props to the writers of this piece and i am excited to see where you guys take it. I'm a big fan of Cthuluesque Horror and Seaborne horror/mystery.

God i feel this on a spiritual level mate, keep at it and keep trying new things. It feels like i went through the exact same thing with the Mysticism community. Wishing you the best of luck with it <3 As for this post, i wholeheartedly love this concept, i've got plans to make at least Mysticism more open for the general populace to get involved with and the ideas offered above would also go a long way towards enabling more engagement with certain Lores. +1 from me

Has my support. +1

Story Event Information In the dark of night a couple of strange merchants from a far off land would arrive unseen, a large beetle pulling their oversized cart through the underbrush and woodland forests of the West of Almaris before finally setting up camp. Those who were lucky enough to stumble across these strange travelers and their trusty beetle would be met with a store full of curiosities and mundane objects for sale, though these sales may be accompanied by curious questions. “Yes, yes! Come traveler, step into my cart and let the wonders of what i have for sale enthrall you! It can all be yours, for the small price of a little information..” The Merchant offers a sly grin before beckoning you into the darkened interior of the cart, the smell of fragrant spices and incense filling the interior with a smoky haze. What bargains will you strike in the dark of the night?

Yes

I support this amendment.

That sensation of cold dread filled the undead husk of that fallen Lord of the Barrows, adding further fractures to an already sundered mind that lingered on thoughts most profane. The tolling of the bell signaled concern within the Barrowlord of Fog, only hastening their accursed plans.. "We shall see you very soon Maleficar.."

In the depths of the world, lingering in the decaying edifice of once proud ruins did word of this Demon reach the mind of that twisted Barrowlord of Fog.. "Deals of a foul nature.. but how far are we willing to go to secure what we seek? Perhaps we should seek this 'Demon' out and discuss a deal.."

Take care! All the best