ScreamingDingo

squak the only useful admin rn

you can also worship me and ill give you naztherak

CHATGPT and the whole OpenAI framework is a fantastic scaffolding device for writing and the flaws in it are very apparent if someone straight plagiarizes. Ngl if the ST accepts AI lore, that's just our fault for kinda sucking at reviewing when it's robotic and weird sounding

*flexes aetosianly with his hate signatures*

hard to fracture two players

I'd honestly rewrite ascended if it meant that we can finally put Tahariae to bed

siliti erp mentioned so much it's a narrative motif now

A strange, bearded man hands you a messy flier as you walk past him. He gives you a simple nod before trotting off to harass more. “ To the dear reader, I am a wandering Gravedigger that has currently got nowhere to tend to. I offer my services to keep the bodies of your fallen safe for a mere shack and a place to rest my head. I can do most strange burial styles, but I am not fully anointed to truly do the burial of those of the Canonist faiths, though I shall be truly pursuing such a method if need be. Upon this, I will look for those who delve in the strange arts of plants to create fluids that shall ensure that your bones are kept clean and away from dark forces! Please contact myself through fat pigeon, the cloud temple folk have slums that I am currently sleeping at. Bless you, Bert “

‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒ THE CLOUD DARKENED WITH BRIMSTONE EVISCERATED BY CRIMSON LIGHTNING AND THUNDER ‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒‒ [!] An artist's depiction of the Battle of Atrus, fighting the Draconic Beast dubbed “Cloudbreaker” The ferocious warriors of the descendants gathered in the Jewel of the South had the taste of sulfur and ash upon their tongues. The harsh sun of Xannic influence radiated upon the sands and the marble buildings of intricate design that now held siege engines and the hopes of the assembled Almarian forces. For those in the east, they prepared their bulwark against the flooding undead assaults, armed with weapons as the glints of steel reflected the rays of the sun in a showing of solidarity. Those in the west picked up their arsenal of crafted ballista bolts and sponge-rammers, going through routine loading procedures as they held the hope of their brethren on their shoulders, and they could not let the draconic beast through. As those in the North assembled on horseback and on foot, escorting large carriages filled to the brim with explosive powder to destroy the Canyon’s unnatural pits of undeath, the hordes of undead sat upon its edges, yet they remained stalwart in their preparations. They were ready to sacrifice themselves for the realm. The tension in the air was felt as streaks of red lightning pierced through the clear skies, the shining blue counteracted by the arching darkness of crimson death. The titanic beast, fabled in its name, was a small blot in the sky, a passing figure for fleeting moments as the descendants held their breath, ready. The draconic lich circled the heavens, its wingspan growing larger as it broke from the skies to the sight of descendants, all before a violent call shuddered from the heavens. The warbled call of the demonic was uttered across the harshness of the air, followed by the translation to common, as the mocking lich spoke through its construct. "Your salvation awaits under the rule of Iblees, march!" The echoed proclamation caused the rattle of blades and shields to stir to life. Each of the groups of warriors now prepared to halt the incoming advancement of the undead. The battle began on all sides, the carriages rumbled across the sands as undead aimed to halt them, all while those in the backline prepared artillery and projectiles to pelt at the oncoming dead. The fabled dragon swooped across the skies, bolts of ballista embedding themselves into the beast's bones, some landing in stray deposits of meat that hung loosely in its ribcage. The harbinger of the skies, lightning was cast from the dragon itself and tore across the battlements in quick succession, igniting ballistas and tearing cannons apart with concussive force. Thunderous explosions echoed across the city as the defenders shot at the dragon, dissuading further movements with well placed shots that sent it to the edges of the city. The rattle of lightning was a familiar sound to the most ancient of the descendants; both the eldest and the youngest of Iblees' kindred used such horrors. Lightning bolts rained down on the outskirts of the city, slamming into the land and eviscerating anything that came into contact with them. Concussive explosions of deific energy echoed as Xan's sun rays faded away from the battle. Darkness had descended, and the battle had begun. The clashing chaos of the back walls had descended into explosions of their own weapons and in-fighting galore. As corpses dragged themselves across the lands, gore and miasma were strewn between the previously established magical barriers.Skeletons and stray zombies were thrown by larger constructs to pierce the battlements, but the descendants held their ground. The fracturing of the grand "Koko Mama'' defined the turn in battle, where the draconic beast was launched to the ground by the lightning of Xan, the sapphire explosion of mists followed by the destruction of the druidic war machine. The beast blighted the land as its loose bones were pulled towards its form, reforming from the damage of the blast before heading to the skies once again. The brutality of the draconic beast was shown in fury as the front battlements were scorched in a miasma of green and black flame, that melted marble and ignited wood that spread across the city. The destruction of Balian came from this movement, as the Paladins of Xan held their mark to hold off the initial entrance of the Dragon. Vicious blasts of holy light and lightning rattled upon the beast, yet the ‘felling’ wound that marked the true change of battle was fired by the Dwarven Cannon Brigade, at the helm of Sigrun Ireheart. As the body slumped across the walls, the skull fell into the city; for a brief moment, victory had been achieved. The Xannic Forces and their assembled allies were wounded as the dragon aimlessly reattached its head after a struggle and marched into the city.Buildings crumbled as the beast slowly sauntered across the city, the ivory bones now marked in ash and blue scorch marks that glowed upon movement, wounds from its offensive attack. The sudden explosions of the canyon filled the area as the descendants marched and completed their missions. The horrendous undead canyon was ignited in flames, as the hordes of undead were stopped from advancing from their birthing pools. The forces on the back dwindled, as they charged below to finish the last of the remnants, all as the Draconic Lich marched behind them to destroy them in one fell swoop. The titanic beast climbed over the church and went onto the hills behind the city to flank, yet, it froze suddenly in its movement. Audible ‘cracks’ were heard in the beast's form as bones started to snap and distort while the entity was frozen in place. The shattering of its heart brought its destruction, as it crumbled into the earth in a cascade of bone dust and gore. The undead that fought for Iblees fell to their knees, begging for release, as others dropped dead twice in response to the fracturing of the heart. Those that marched from the Canyon had finally completed their quest, the true death of the beast that plagued Almaris. The Final Rest of the Cloudbreaker. The descendants stood there, battered and bloodied, as the city behind them burned to smoldering ashes in an inferno. Buildings shattered and melted, and the streets were filled with the unidentified corpses of defenders who made their last valiant efforts to stop the marching beast. The heavy onset of disaster was averted by them, the descendants won at the cost of their city, of their brethren. But they had stopped the attack of the Ibleesian aligned forces. Earthquakes rattled the earth as the horrific Heir of Feldafmir broke into the skies. The writhing, demonic entity that dwarfed the city reared its body as flames enwreathed its tendrils. The oncoming dread of battle was seen by those who witnessed the beast, and they knew that all was truly lost for a moment. Yet instead, the Worm did something that no one expected: it burrowed deep into the earth after a few fleeting moments. The continent shook as thunderous echoes of open caverns and infrastructure below the South were torn asunder. The collapse of countless structures beneath their feet, yet the ground itself remained stable for those overhead. A final movement by the beast, and by Iblees’ forces themselves. It wreaked havoc on the world's underbelly before ceasing to shake the descendants' realm. After the battle was won, many returned to their homes or started the rebuilding of the city of Atrus. Though everyone would notice strange occurrences occurring throughout the nights that followed. Small holes, akin to rat tunnels, were spotted on the edges of cities, disturbed by clear movement of something that burrowed within them. There was always the lingering presence of something watching those who walked the streets and cities at night, eyes that caught on the shadows. Those that walked in the tunnels beneath their cities could hear the very faint tapping of footsteps and tools within their walls, noises filled the underground where it was once silent. Certain migrations of fauna were seen from the north and south; birds and smaller creatures that burrow in the arctic now reach the edges of civilization. Something happened, and no one knew the true extent of the aftermath of this battle. Yet.

The darkness of dreams is something that feels familiar to you, the smothering abyss that collapses upon you as you rest your eyes. Yet, in a sudden moment, your own body cascaded into the endless nothing as your vision diverted to the emptiness. Red lightning breaks through the endless void, the depiction of a reptilian shadow is seen within each flash of light. Its six heads intertwine in the fashion of a hydra that writhe in chaotic battle. Another flash of red lightning follows, as the skies above the distorted void take on the shape of a cavern. The rocks themselves rattle as your own body moves independently of thought, your eyes adjusting to the darkness of the underground tunnels as your feet start to bound into action. Utterances in a strange, derelict tongue are followed by you, as your companions are enwreathed completely in the darkness of the caves. A thunderous echo shudders all around as the cavern itself collapses. You run, but a stray rock traps your leg, making you struggle to pry it off in the chaos. Another one of the shadows is seen to be crushed by the falling ceiling, a sickening crack following as the last of your companions abandons you. Thoughts flood your mind, though most make little to no sense as the final collapse crushes you. You are awake; water; moss; and air. Your own body lurches from the shallow waters of the swamp into the light, the slick sludge covering your body as you clear it from your eyes and nostrils. Ahead are the ancient ruins, a familiar cluster of stones protruding from a swamp outcropping. The Foundation of Petra Turis. The Attenlund Swamps are known as you look towards the skies above it, the shadows of the Draconic Lich seen among the clouds. Here lies the heart of Cloudbreaker.