Nononymous

Magne Orman, the small, lonely Elf child wanders up to the golem, holding out a flower of his own. "Hi! I'm Magne!" he says, gazing up at the towering construct.

Welcome to LoTC! Good luck with your app!

The Arscimali Written by Gwonam_Blaze and Jtheo2016 Skin and Avatar done by Randomness710 This creature lore was written long ago, back in January. It was only now posted as it was forgotten and abandoned for quite some time and both writers were very busy. I, Jtheo2016, in no way wish to claim credit for this project by posting this as Gwonam wrote much of the lore. The event introducing the Arscimali is already in the lore (should the event be acceptable). The playerbase will fight alongside the Stranger and the Seeker against a horde of Arscimali. I’d also like to point out while there /WAS/ in fact a pre existing culture involved in the Lore, it was abolished upon the death of Yellow Eyes and the actual creation of the current Arscimali culture will be done in RP (writing the commandments, etc.). Avatar: Please put this in your signature if you wish to support the Arscimali. http://imgur.com/icMV2 Conditions for Implementation: 1. Event introducing them (as stated in the lore outline to be sent to LM) 2. Player cap of 10 Arscimali at any one time 3. Help from the staff to go through with the event introducing the Arscimali (event team to play Arscimali, media team to film, GM’s to help, etc.) Gwonam_Blaze and Jtheo2016 will coordinate/moderate the event if at all possible. 4. Players /CANNOT/ turn themselves into Arscimali (see requirements below). Only Arscimali may create other Arscimali. Basic Principles: - Collectivist creatures (only speak in plural, no use of “I or me.” - Very curious; lack basic emotions and humor - Able to learn emotions and humor through exposure to sentient beings - /NOT GOLEMS/ - The Arscimali have souls contained within their bodies; conjured into a physical form through the magic of the Arscimali/Brintor. - Upon ((MC)) death, their bodies’ crumple to the ground and are later replicated by the Monks to satisfy the Arscimali’s needs. Should damages be too savage, actual death will result in body crumpling, but black aura seeping out. - The Arscimali pick their own names upon construction - Population cap of 10 Arscimali at any time Current Arscimali: Should the lore be considered and RP testing be approved by LM, MAT, and GM, these are the only two people permitted to RP as Arscimali. Jtheo2016 - Stranger (Leader of One Side of Arscimali) Eye Color: Green Eyes Facial Model: Deep Thought Gwonam_Blaze - Seeker (Leader of the Other Side of Arscimali) Eye Color: Purple Facial Model: (Undecided) Lore: Conjuration is usually a simple magic to master; simply bringing forth tiny animals and other creatures to fend off those who dwell in darkness. However, what happens when one of these conjurations gains consciousness? What happens once they can feel, and they can desire? What happens when they can live? The first type of conjurations to ever reach this level are the Arscimali, the men of cloth with limitless capabilities and endless visions of knowledge. This whole conquest of information was made possible by a single, power-hungry mage; Brintor the Creator. Brintor began his great journey as a simple conjurer, specializing in summoning cheap tricks as a sideshow act. Eventually, he began experimenting with larger spells and conjurations. He soon sped through training and excelled in the area. Eventually, he began going outside the known and began with the unknown; he created a small lab to work in with help from some Dwarves. Brintor was unhappy in his life as an entertainer, and so hungrily desired to advance his skills in magic. Being an Elf, he was unable to do much digging himself. As the Dwarves continued digging, they finally broke into a large, dark cavern. They thought nothing of it, and Brintor only saw it as a larger area to work with. He soon installed bookcases, testing vials, different clothing materials (mainly leather and cloth) so he would not have to leave to get new clothes, and even a small farm for sustenance. It was during this time that he created a conjuration by accident. He was thinking of creating a companion with false emotions, only a mimicry of sentience, and instead made a creature of thought. Dark, black energy pulsed through the air around the entity, and yellow eyes flickered in the middle of its head. Amazed at his own work, Brintor stumbled back, and without hesitation, began constructing a body to serve as a containment unit. As he was rushed for time, believing that the aura would fade into the void, he quickly began assembling the makeshift container for the conjuration; a body. His instincts relayed to him it was the only logical shape, and he had no time to further ponder this. He pieced it together as quickly as possible, placing the sections together around the being, trapping it inside. Using leftover iron from some tools, he formed a circular shaped ring and cut a hole in the forehead of the body. He placed the ring inside the hole, framing a circle of glass. It lit up a brilliant shade of yellow. The new being flexed it’s arms contentedly, staring at it’s new form. Its sewn mouth formed into a wicked smile. He was made mostly of scraps of cloth and leather as his creation was rushed, but it served it’s purpose. The Yellow Eyes faked compassion towards Brintor, asking to learn his ways in conjuration. Resistant, but overall impressed with his work, he taught Yellow Eyes the basics of conjuration. It was during this time that Yellow Eyes was able to replicate his own creation, forming a “brother”. At this discovery, Brintor was killed. Yellow Eyes shared a similar trait with Brintor; an unquenchable thirst for power. Soon, Yellow Eyes was creating many creations a day; but not without a cost. Because he was not limiting himself, he slowly began sinking into madness, his consciousness fading to be replaced with twisted, sadistic thoughts. He eventually stopped and left it to his first two creations to decide how to progress. An argument pursued; half of the creations on one side, half on the other. They were soon fighting amongst each other, and from there began full out war as the argument grew more and more. Soon they were summoning new conjurations left and right as they dropped like flies. As the population rose and fell, the reasoning behind the fight was completely forgotten, the fight had turned into a war, and any truth that had once been were all but legends now. They had developed a religion and a way of life during this short allotment time. They all believed in Brintor the creator, but he was remembered as cruel and unjust. Yellow Eyes was viewed as a hero. All of the creations revered him and wished to be like him. Seeing himself worshipped as an idol, Yellow Eyes laughed from afar at the fighting conjurations. He knew the truth of everything; The conjurations had not been fighting an ancient war, it had only been going on for a month. He could’ve stopped it, but he enjoyed the violence far too much and the position of power they had placed him in only served to further his ecstasy. He watched with glee as they killed one another, black energy seeping from their wounds until their bodies simply crumpled to the ground in a lifeless heap. The cloth was recycled to create new constructs to fight the waging war. As each one’s eye flickered off permanently, Yellow Eyes’s pleasure only grew more and more. At the same time, the Arscimali began to find bits Brintor’s personal library scattered throughout the tunnels, teaching themselves basic language and translating the texts. They learned the common tongue quickly, which in turn quickened the growth of their culture even further, adding to the belief of Brintor the Creator that he was all knowing and extremely powerful. This was before the surface dwellers made their first appearance, ushering in a new age of the Arscimali The first sign of the surface dwellers was upon the end of the first and last month of the Great War. A few cracks began to show in the ceilings of the tunnels that had been dug by the inhabitants, alerting them to a new presence. Much of the farm was crushed as the ceilings caved in, leaving the Arscimali without enough sustenance. They grew excited despite the lack of food. They believe this collapse signified the end of their world, so they began fighting their enemy with newfound energy, hoping to find a solution. Nothing came of it, until the meeting of the Stranger and the Seeker. The two were both exploring tunnels when they found each other; both mortal enemies. One was the leader of one side of the war effort, one of the other. They began to fight relentlessly, their faces remaining blank but focused. By sheer coincidence, the tunnels around them collapsed, leaving the two in a single cavern. The ceiling began to crack further. The ceiling finally tumbled to the ground around and on top of them, covering them in a thick layer of dust and rock. The two creatures had found sunlight. They were shocked and awed at the world around them. The two yelled in happiness, forgetting their mortal strife for a moment to gaze upon this new land. A bright yellow sun shined down upon them as waves of a nearby ocean splashed against the shore. Birds whistled in the trees as the wind blew through their leaves, evoking new ideas and thoughts from the Stranger. He began to wonder if they were the only knowledge seeking beings out there. He turned to the Seeker and they made a silent agreement. Fighting would halt until thorough investigation of the new land was accomplished. Upon noticing the disappearance of the leaders, Yellow Eyes decided to make his move. The presence of the upper world had not escaped him, and so he their disappearance as a chance to raise an army. He climbed down from his pedestal of power and went down to the other creatures below, speaking to them and telling them to forget the war effort. The two sides were shocked, but because Yellow Eyes was seen as a legend and hero, they obliged loyally. Yellow Eyes appointed himself as leader, and turned them to a new cause. The surface would belong to Yellow Eyes one way or another, and if not him, then no one could lay claim to it. As of that day, his single purpose was to claim the surface for himself and unite the creatures under a single banner. Not to mention, through the conquest of the new lands, they would be able to sustain themselves once more. They began to dig and drill into the earth, seeking to find a clear path into the open. Rumors of the Seeker’s and the Stranger’s disappearence spread as the cave in was discovered. They broke through the rubble. The Arscimali discovered the entrance to the above ground areas, but not before the Stranger and the Seeker could reach other life. The Stranger and the Seeker began to meet with the different races, awe and amazement leaving a trail behind them. They pleaded for help to end the brutal war, both seeking to eliminate the other’s side; both of them were unaware of Yellow Eye’s control. They had no idea of Yellow Eye’s intentions either. As the two different creatures sought help from different races around the world to take out the other, they met at the sight of the tunnel. The two enemy sides, with equal amounts of men on each, saw the opening of the tunnel into the unknown. They stopped. A rumbling could be heard from deep beneath the ground. All the Arscimali beneath charged out at the forces around them, many of them screeching and howling like savages. Suddenly, enemies had become allies and they were forced to work together to destroy the onslaught of Arscimali creatures. Despite the creatures being their brethren, the Seeker and the Stranger sensed something was different, that something was wrong, and fought with their newly acquired allies. They wondered why the Arscimali would abandon their homes for an uncertain land. The two charged into the hole once more, this time as comrades. Here they found Yellow Eyes. Yellow Eyes turned, his army defeated and massacred, his own hopes fallen. By his side was Brintor’s body, hardly decayed but smelling deeply of rotten flesh and death. Yellow Eyes grabbed one of the flies circling Brintor’s body, holding it between his town fingers gracefully. “Here is something you two shall never have.” He cackled as he squashed the bug, “You shall never have life.” At that, the duo killed Yellow Eyes, both out of fear of his powers and hatred for what he did to their armies/people. The Stranger threw on Brintor’s clothes exuberantly, believing them a symbol of their freedom, life, and success. He exclaimed to the Seeker “We will not listen to Yellow Eyes. We can live, we shall live.” At this, the Arscimali were officially established under the Stranger and the Seeker. Two fundamentals were established; “An Arscimali shall strive to live life to the fullest and to master the emotions of the living,” and, “The surface dwellers are kind, but curious; We shall be courteous in response.” Repopulation went successfully for a time, until the first murder and the first Yellow Eyes. An Arscimali killed another due to some unimportant argument over a makeshift hut. This established the commandment of “We shall not kill a brother.” Soon after, one of the new Arscimali possesed yellow eyes. Out of fear and bitterness, the Stranger and the Seeker executed him. The establishment of two new commandments came of this; to justify the killing they created “Any with Yellow Eyes are not one of us. They must be exterminated immediately,” and following in quick pursuit, “Harboring a Yellow Eyes will result in death.” Many other smaller commandments followed, but the first six are considered to be the most important. The sixth commandment is “We shall not speak in individuality; collectivism is truth.” They created this commandment to avoid a replica of the Yellow Eyes incident, and to instill camaraderie amongst the Arscimali. Physical Make Up: The Arscimali are made up of a collection of materials: cloth, leather, string, spider silk, etc. They have one-to-two metal rings protruding from their heads, framing a pane of glass displaying the color of the conjuration within. While the most common color of cloth is brown, some may appear white or black, but are always kept within those three colors to prevent needlessly flashy appearance. Not to mention, during their time in underground, it became common to give Arscimali earthy colors. Upon joining those who lived above ground, they simply kept tradition and continued the selection of the same colors. They did become somewhat quirky when designing their brethren despite the strict following of tradition. Each Arscimali’s face may constructed in a way that it will resemble a sort of emotion. This emotion may be one of many either of its creators finds most appealing or, at the time, appropriate. In most cases, the designated emotion will have no effect on the Arscimali’s personality; it is purely cosmetic. However, if the Arscimali grows curious as to what its face is supposed to represent, it might take firm interest in that particular emotion. Arscimali also vary in size; some can reach the height of Elves, some as short as halflings, and others the width of an Orc. Their size will have no effect on how strong they are, or their abilities. It’s just a feature of design. Internal Composition & Personality: Each Arscimali must develop their own personality. Each one is born with an empty slate of a mind, and they can selectively choose what they wish to retain. (See “Behavior”) They are not like living organisms in the sense that they have brains and organs.They only have cloth skin and energy within. Each Arscimali must also receive sustenance in a very similar way to how most living things absorb food. They simply place the food into their mouth. However, the internal processes behind this are a bit less complicated. Once the food hits the conjuration within, it immediately begins to disintegrate into little flecks and pieces of black mana, fueling the conjuration. They may only do this with dead flesh and plant matter. No Arscimali can become a cannibal. Behaviour The Arscimali refer to themselves and one-another collectively, using terms such as ‘we’ and ‘us’ in place of ‘I’ and ‘me’. The reasons for this aren’t very clear, though, it seems almost a necessity for them, as they are never heard doing otherwise. It became part of the commandments after the incident with “Yellow Eyes”; it is simply protocol for them to do, though no sentient being outside of the Arscimali knows this. In reality, they believe the main cause of the war was the ego of Yellow Eyes; the first and most powerful of his kind, he seized power and lay waste to his people. The Arscimali, once they have learned to feel and develop ‘affection’ similar to that of other sentient races, are capable of finding a significant other of their own. This is something that, after observing other races, they believe to be both ‘normal’ and fulfilling. Though it is difficult for them to show true emotions like this, they can simulate it as accurately as they can. If they discover the act of mating, they may also try to simulate this. However, due to their lack of genders, thus lack of male and female exclusive parts, they instead procreate by constructing an entirely new Arscimali by hand. The features and such of this new Arscimali don’t necessarily have resemble those of their ‘parents’, but it is not uncommon for one to bare similarities between its creators, as the ‘parents’ will normally use themselves as references. Once the young Arscimali is constructed, it will be quite ‘plain’ and featureless ( May be reffered to as ‘Vanilla Arscimali’ ). An Arscimali is subject to changing its appearance how it sees fit at any time, though, there is usually a point where it will feel ‘comfortable’ and see no reason to alter its appearance any further. -Self repair: It is not uncommon for an Arscimali to emerge from conflict wounded or severed. Though loss of limbs and other appendages would normally be a severe or even fatal wound to any mortal being, it is simply a hinderance to Arscimali. Their composition of cloth and other simple fabric allows them or their comrades to perform simple repairs or replacements at the cost of resources. Although this process is more than possible, it can be expensive and time consuming, depending on the scale of the damage. A damaged eye-lens can take little more than a few minutes to completely repair, however, an entire lost arm could take several hours or possibly days to fix due to the amount of care and resources that are spent to heal such an affliction. -Feeding / diet: Despite their slightly mechanical composure, the Arscimali must feed in a similar manner to that of ordinary organisms. (Refer to “Internal Composition”) Variation Arscimali, under normal circumstances, hardly bare any unique identities; They each act fairly similar to their siblings and share almost identical qualities to one another. However, some may ‘mutate’ in a manner that will cause them to behave rather differently from their bredren. Though these ‘mutations’ can be quite unpredictable, there is currently only one known to occur. It is referred to by Arscimali as a “Case of the Mimics”: -Mimics: The afflicted Arscimali will gain the uncontrollable desire to ‘mimic’ certain things it sees or interacts with. What the Arscimali will be compelled to mimic can vary; in some cases, it can be a person or animal it has developed a bond with, and in others, the Arscimali will attempt to mimic an object it grows curious or fond of. Much like a common cold or a parasite, “Mimics” is contagious to other Arscimali. Usually, the afflicted will be placed in solitude for an undetermined amount of time. The Arscimali refer to it, with one another, as a “Case of the Mimics.” An example of this used in context could be; “We heard that Boomer caught a case of the mimics recently.” Weaknesses and Strengths: Weaknesses: The Arscimali have a weakness for; - Burning - An Arscimali’s body can easily burn, causing the conjuration within to seep out into the world. This essentially kills it. This does NOT include minor burns, as minor burns can be handled easily. Major burns, however, may result in death. - Water - Water tends to seep into the cloth, which absorbs it so easily. This can cause the cloth skin of the Arscimali to weigh it down, forcing it to the ground. They may not stand up until they have dried fully. - Broken Eye - Should the eye lense/lenses be broken, dark aura may seep through, leaving the Arscimali weakened and unable to fight at full capability. - Learning Magic - The Arscimali are afraid of magic (with the exception of creation of another of their kind), due to the corruption found in Yellow Eyes. They strive to avoid magic at all costs, other than their own extinction. In addition, magic can lead an Arscimali to madness and weakness. - Combat - The Arscimali have no muscle or bones; there is no force behind their attacks. Arscimali cannot fight well, and must instead rely upon running. Strengths: The Arscimali are strong in the areas of; - Self Repair.” They do not scream, but they will get weakened from missing parts/wounds. (See “Behavior”/”Hand to Hand Combat”) - Knowledge - Arscimali can learn quickly and pick up ideas/concepts quickly as they begin with a completely clean slate. They are not known to forget something easily. Color Energy Definitions: - Green Eyes: Those with green eyes are often dreamers and good leaders. The Stranger, leader of the Arscimali, is known for his green eyes, the first to posses them. Those with Green Eyes are also known to be stubborn. - Blue Eyes: Those with blue eyes are known to be noble at heart and wish to help others as best they can. However, blue eyes can also show naïvety in the mind of the Arscimali. - Red Eyes: Those with red eyes are known to be fierce and strong fighters. They have good instincts in combat. However, they can be needlessly belligerent. - Yellow Eyes: Those with yellow eyes are known to be manipulative and clever. Any Arscimali discovered with Yellow Eyes is immediately executed for fear of the original “Yellow Eyes.” - Purple Eyes: Those with purple eyes are known to be valiant and courageous. However, they do not consider their own self enough and can end up hurt or in trouble because of their actions. Those with Purple eyes are also (typically) associated with Seeker. - Orange Eyes: Those with orange eyes are known to loyal and very independent. However, they may accidentally isolate themselves from others because of this. (The Following applies only should the Arscimali be accepted by the LM's and MAT's) Application: (Note that our personal OOC opinions of you will be taken into account. We want/need good RPers) 1. MC Name: 2. RP Name (for Arscimali): 3. Biography of Creation: 4. Color Eyes: 5. Link to Skin: 6. Role to play in Arscimali Society (Occupation): 7. Emotion or No Emotion at Birth?: 8. Name one of the commandments and explain its role in your character: 9. Does your character believe Brintor evil or kind? What of Yellow Eyes?: 10. Screenshot of RP: The Commandments/Ideals of the Arscimali: “An Arscimali shall strive to live life to the fullest and to master the emotions of the living,” “The surface dwellers are kind, but curious; We shall be courteous in response.” “We shall not kill a brother.” “Any with Yellow Eyes are not one of us. They must be exterminated immediately.” “Harboring a Yellow Eyes will result in death.” “We shall not speak in individuality; collectivism is truth.” Requirements to be Arscimali: - Accepted Magical Creature app for “Arscimali.” The link to this application/thread lies below: http://www.lordofthecraft.net/forum/index.php?/topic/88846-magical-creatures-application/ - Accepted App to be an Arscimali.(sent via forum PM’s to Jtheo2016 or Gwonam_Blaze) (Edit: The VA for 5 is not needed.) Lore Outline: 1. Creation of the Arscimali 2. Destroy the creator - Introduction of the “yellow eyes”- insane 3. Yellow Eyes creates more and more Arscimali; he lies to them and sends them into a never ending war 4. The war only goes for a month or so, but because everyone dies so quickly they believe it has been going on for centuries 5. Own culture develops during this time; because many of the Arscimali grew so used to referring to their side as “we” and “our,” the idea of the individual came to fade, and in it’s place remained only collectivism. They shun the words “I” and “Me,” as they were the words of the Yellow Eyes; their most hated adversary. 6(1). Actual RP event introducing the Arscimali 6(2). (Continued from 6.1) Bringing the destruction of Yellow Eyes and the end of the war 7. Yellow Eyes, as last act of treachery, kills most of the Arscimali population by manipulating them to charge into battle. Yellow Eyes dies at the hands of the Stranger and the Seeker with aid from the surface dwellers, leading the Arscimali to welcome them as friends. 8. The Arscimali are established and the commandments are written. 9. The Arscimali begin to repopulate through conjuration spells.

A draft blows through the Cove as the doors open, billowing in and filling the room with fresh air. A shambling figure stumbles out; his clothes are ragged, his hair dirty and matted, and a slight limp in his step. His cheeks appear hallowed, and his skin clings tightly to his bones. He resembles a scarecrow with skin. He appears. . . Brittle. "I'm back," the figure states, before wandering into the Cove, glaring at the new faces and the old. He settles down in a room, and writes on a scrap of paper, which he hangs up outside his room, "The Kaizer has Returned."

Brittle whispers quietly to Price, "Aren't we the slave kings that pay no man?"

Gat “Sunny” Collard Adelban Nicknames: The Brittle Man, Sunny, Two-face, Soul Chiller Age: 19 Gender: Male Race: Human Status: Alive (Sunny, Drawn by Abysmall) Description Height: 5’9 and 3/4 Weight: 150-160 lbs Body Type: Not scrawny, but not particularly muscular. Sunny has an athletic and toned body build. Eyes: Green Hair: Blonde Skin: Pale Caucasian Markings/Tattoos: A jagged scar going down his face from a long sword blow he received in battle, a scar in his shoulder from a flirting competition he got into, and a scar on his ankle from a dagger cut. Health: Fairly good Inventory: The Faceless Man’s mask, a very old and worn wedding ring missing the diamond, and the Old Dagger of the Faceless Man dating back to Aegis. Personality: Sunny, when he is not traveling under the alias “The Brittle Man,” has a pleasant disposition and can be relied on to use quirky abbreviations much like a dwarf. His speech is just a guise, however, and he only speaks as he was raised to when he has assumed the mask of the Brittle Man. As the Brittle Man, to further hide himself, he only speaks collectively. He refrains from the words “I, me, my, and mine” and instead uses “We, our, and ours.” Both personas have a sense of humor and can be relied on for a funny joke. Further Details: A picture of the Brittle Man: Life Style Alignment*: Chaotic Neutral Deity*: None Religion: None Alliance/Nation/Home: Slaver’s Cove (The Masked Masters) Job/Class: Thief, Bandit, Slaver, and Assassin Title(s): The Fallen Count, Heir of Rin and New Andromeda, Bastard of the Bastard, Master of the Mask, Kaizer, Legacy of Faceless, Oathbreaker Profession(s): Criminal Special Skill(s): Apt with the blade, novice with the bow, skilled thief, stealthy, and a lady charmer. Flaw(s): Sunny has a major paranoia of being left without commodities. After his wife died of starvation, whose name he’s never mentioned, he has been paranoid of poverty and petrified by the concept of death. Sunny also can be too humble and undermine himself, regardless of how much knowledge or prowess he may actually have. Magic* N/A Weaponry Fighting Style: Unorthodox Preferred Weapon: Short Sword Favored Weapon: Faceless's Dagger Biography (Red = Deceased, Green = Alive) Parents: Father: Count James Adelban Jtheo2016 Mother: Poppy Leafhelm Twiddlepop Siblings: N/A Children: N/A Extended Family: Wife: Unknown Grandfather: The Faceless Man/ Baron Redbain Adelban Jtheo2016 Grandmother: Baroness Alexis Adelban theSUPAHstar Uncle: Faren Adelban yayfunfunfun_6 Aunt: Adalina Adelban dsdevil Diary: Part 1: Learning to Write Diary Part 2: The Slaver’s Life is the Life for Me! Villain Application: http://www.lordofthecraft.net/forum/index.php?/topic/88366-sunnys-1st-va-55-ref-unread/?hl=jtheo2016 Brittle’s First Demonstration: http://www.lordofthecraft.net/forum/index.php?/topic/89707-the-brittle-man-jtheo2016s-official-return-to-villainy/

The Brittle Man “Get him,” the Salvus Shields yelled from afar. They chased towards the tiny boy, who was grasping a loaf of bread as if his life depended on it. The Shield’s chainmail jingled loudly, and men jeered at the boy. In an attempt to escape, the boy darted down a darkened alleyway. He dashed down the cobbled stairs at the end of the alley, reaching the bank of a river that flowed through the town. Realizing he had lost the Shields in the chaos of the city, the boy turned to head to the nearby bridge that hung over the river. The bridge seemed to dangle over the brown, murky water without support, but its arch shape suggested that there was a strong keystone holding it up. The bridge, because of its arch shape, was most likely constructed within recent events as the technology was only now being commonly used. Feces and other unmentionable waste dripped from the worn out stone railings on either side of the bridge. Moss clung to the stone of the bridge, and rats scuttled about under the bridge’s shadow. An eerie draft wisped under the ancient arch, carrying the odor of rot and decay. The boy appeared unaffected by these sights and smells; in fact, they seemed to welcome him like a home. The small boy wandered under the bridge, with a faint limp suggesting an old injury. He was covered in a thin layer of dirt and grime. His ratty black hair sprung out in different directions and a tiny scar lay on his right cheek. Tattered clothing clung to his emaciated torso, but his pants seemed excessively loose. His shoes appeared haggard and worn, holes in places near the toes. Every few steps, a toe would poke out and greet the world. He was an orphaned street urchin. The bread he held with him was very roughly made and crude, but it appeared as a feast to him. He dug his teeth in hungrily, ignoring the tiny stones that chipped his teeth as he chewed. The rats near him, encouraged by the sight of food, shifted towards him slowly and gobbled down the crumbs that fell to the stone floor. Just when the boy was getting comfortable, a scream echoed under the bridge. This draws his attention to a previously unnoticed wooden door. Both the rats and the boy were startled; the boy flinched and the rats retreated to the shadows. Out of curiosity, the boy stood up. He began walking towards the door. He opened the door slowly, and felt his knees grow wobbly. He was nervous. Upon opening the door, another shriek sounded, echoing through the halls and causing the boy to fall down in terror. He got up and brushed the dirt off of his already dirt soaked clothes out of habit rather than necessity. The urchin boy walked inside and was met by the dim light of a torch. Torches lined the walls and cast a gloomy illumination, resting on identifiable bones and rotted organic matter. Little puddles of some sticky substance covered the floor which the boy discovered by stepping in one. He didn’t want to know what it was. A cackle penetrated through the screams, originating from another living being. The boy persisted, though his knees gave out in fright every few moments and his teeth chattered loud enough to wake the dead. The floor creaked under his steps, moaning as if they were a dormant giant rising from its centuries of slumber. As the boy neared the source of the disturbance, he began to hear a faint rattle of chains and the roar of a fire. The end of the hallway opened up into a large expanse. Blood soaked the walls at different intervals in the walls, and even more torches protruded from the walls. The hilts of the torches were ashen black and worn away by the effects of time. They were held in iron casts that wound up the length of the hilt. In the middle of the room was an archaic table with hundreds of engravings and runes on the edges. Two men were in the room; one was displayed like a doll on the table, with no apparel other than a loin cloth. A blade protruded from the man’s shoulder, and large gash in his other shoulder suggested he had been stabbed twice. The other man drew the boy’s attention far more than the other. This man was no man at all. Piercing red eyes lay buried in his face, and the entirety of his body seemed to consist of straw. Grey, ragged clothes hung loosely off his body. Blood had soaked into the straw and covered some of his clothes. He had beat, shabby black boots on his feet with dull bronze buckles and the man had an unsettling voice that echoed off the walls sinisterly. He seemed to be singing to himself, but it seemed to further provoke the man on the tables’ terror. The song went: “The Brittle Man spends his day, toiling away, with scalpel and blade. The Brittle Man lives his life, causing the lives of others strife. The Brittle Man consoles the weak, their bodies taken, sown, and reaped. For when the Brittle Man comes a-walking, all the predators shall cease their stalking. The prey the Brittle Man shall flay, and the rest he shall savagely slay. For the Brittle Man will always slay, just as he spends his days, Toiling away with his scalpel and blade.” Upon finishing his concert, the straw man whipped back his head and cackled, using the torture victim as a sheathe for his dagger. Blood spewed out of the wounds and the man’s tortured screams echoed just as loudly as the straw man’s song. The straw man spoke aloud, “It was not wise to anger us. We are very powerful.” It was then that the boy realized that the straw man was the Brittle Man, and for some reason this new knowledge frightened him more than the sight of blood. The crimson liquid flowed openly from the wounds and onto the floor, increasing the already sizable puddle gathering around the table. The Brittle Man began mumbling loudly to himself as he continued his work, sliding the blade across the man’s skin nonchalantly. He dug the blade in deep in specific places; hard enough to cause massive pain but not enough to end his life. As the screams grew fainter, the man on the table simply began repeating “please” over and over. The man was tiring and his color was fading; he had lost a lot of blood. “I’m done!” the straw man declared triumphantly, moving without hesitation to the other side of the table. The man on the table seemed to be energized by this statement. “I’m free?” he asked doubtfully, and the straw man had a simple and yet conclusive response. “Never,” the Brittle Man said with a cackle, moving the sharp edge of the dagger to the man’s throat. He slid it across, blood erupting from the cavern of horror that was his neck. The man’s final noise was a guttural protest and scream, as if to say that he still clung to life. Of course, the tortured man died on the table, his eyes turning a milky white and his skin becoming pale and opaque. Terrified, the street urchin moved to run up the stairs. He was unconcerned with surreptitiousness, but rather was enthused with the idea of escaping the horror behind him. Immediately, the boy tripped on stairs and landed in a pile of bones, dried and bleached. They rattled with a noise so loud they could’ve popped the ear drums of every living man in the world. The boy paused, horrified. Maybe if I don’t move, he won’t know I’m here, the boy said to himself. Maybe he just thinks it was a rat or the breeze. . . or something! The grimy boy clung to the stairs, too horrified to move and enervated by the idea that something equally as horrible as the events that occurred on the table could happen to him. And then the singing started all over again. “The Brittle Man walks away, grasping tightly, his scalpel and blade. The Brittle Man ruins lives, inflicting horrors of different kinds. The Brittle Man captures the human plague, though his motives are forever vague. For when the Brittle Man comes a-walking, on your door he shall be knocking. On their knees, the victims pray, but be assured, in blood they’ll pay. For the Brittle Man is always paid, for if he’s not, his victims shall witness him, Toiling away with his scalpel and blade.” Horror enveloped the boy, and he began to dart up the stairs. As he took his first step, a firm hand clamped down upon his shoulder. He turned around to see the abominable face of the Brittle Man, still singing. He opened his gaping maw of death, and blood dripped down where his mouth should’ve been. The blood dribbled down his chin and splattered on the urchin’s clothing, finishing his song with a monumental verse that fell onto the boy harder than a hammer blow. “The urchin boy shall die today!” Weeks passed, and a few Shields still searched for the boy who had stolen the bread. Just as they were beginning to give up, one suspected the boy had fled to the country side. Screams echoed at the gates before they could go to the countryside however, and drew their immediate attention. As the guards ran to the gate, they saw a large crowd gathered in a huddle around a shape. They didn’t know what to expect, but they didn’t conceive that while one problem would be solved, another larger one would envelop it. The urchin boy who stole the bread was on display, held up by a wooden pole. His arms were extended at his sides, and his hands draped limp at his sides. Blood was puddled around his feet and there was a note nailed deep into his chest. The Shields read the note, but it only said three words; a clue they believed as to who committed the crime. Only three words, but they managed to horrify the entire crowd when the first Shield spoke them aloud. “The Brittle Man,” the Shield read aloud, and it made all the difference when a cackle sounded through the crowd. A trail of straw appeared, leading from the boy’s corpse into a darkened alley, where inside were the pair of piercing, red eyes that had been the last thing the urchin saw. ((OOC Note: For any who do in fact remember me as Redbain Adelban, the Faceless Man, take this thread as an official notice of my return as Faceless’s grandson, the Brittle Man. Throughout the summer I will be on and off due to traveling, but duly note that I am back to cause chaos. In the words of Inigo Montoya, “Prepare to die.” Also, I may or may not be making a return as Faceless, we’ll see.)) ((UPDATE: The boy's corpse is now on display in Salvus IG. Enjoy :) ))

((See ya' bud. Sad to see ya' go. ;( Best of luck to you. ))

Hey, quick question; when this gets implemented (as I'm confident it will be), will the parasites begin in one concentrated source or will it begin in different areas around Anthos? Also, how does the parasite affect magic users (if at all)?

Wow, I'm excited :)