Xarkly

ISSUED BY ON THIS 5th DAY OF GRONNA & DROBA OF 559 E.S. The alleged Shadowspawn known as ‘Vindacus’ has been the subject of Canon inquisition on two occasions - once, in the distant past, and again, in the very recent future. For, long ago, the hunt for Vindacus served as the inaugural hunt for my lord Caius Primus - newly risen to the Throne of St. Daniel - and I. In the past few days, news has since broken that Vindacus has been slain, many decades later. Through my duties as both Commandant in service to the Pontifical Courts of Justice, and as a vestigial servant of my lord Caius Primus, I now declassify this dossier as all findings of the White Comet in relation to he who was called Vindacus. ⋅ ───────────────⊱༺⠀☨⠀༻⊰─────────────── ⋅ I. THE ‘FUNNYBONES’ INCIDENT - 521 E.S. | 1968 A.H. The Church’s inquisition into Vindacus was triggered by another Shadowspawn. It was the very eve following the inauguration of Caius Primus as High Pontiff, and a warning bell tolled through the streets of Whitespire. In the company of the High Pontiff himself, Frantzisko of Albarosa (the future High Pontiff Deunoro I), Bishop Jean, and the retainers of the St. Jude, we beset an Undead by the name of ‘Funnybones’ - a creature of pure bone, capable of detaching his skull - outside the city tavern, and vanquished him. While the Undead, true to its nature, would eschew true death, its slaying did hold an unexpected boon - for, upon its body, I uncovered a series of letters between an individual named ‘Reynard’ and a counterpart who styled himself as ‘Okhaust’. Within this report, I exhibit copies of these letters below: At the time, our inquisition was unaware that ‘Funnybones’ was not the Shadowspawn that appeared to be corresponding with ‘Okhaust’. It is now believed that ‘Funnybones’ was, instead, either a courier or minion to the correspondent ‘Reynard’ - it was only in later years, through subsequent White Comet operations against the necromancer coven of Murkwater, that this ‘Reynard’ was the Gravelord Kryndomere (now slain), a Greater Shadowspawn targeted by the White Comet in its earlier campaigns, and whose mortal name was ‘Reynard Delmar’. This conclusion was later cemented when Vindacus referred to his correspondent as a ‘lich’. The events of the Funnybone Incident were chronicled by the late Caius Primus in his first Field Chronicle. ⋅ ───────────────⊱༺⠀☨⠀༻⊰─────────────── ⋅ II. THE SHIRE TOWER - 521 E.S. | 1968 A.H. One of the letters obtained from the remains of Funnybones listed a specific meeting location within the Halfling Shire, and so that is where the High Pontiff and I rode forthwith, in the company of Ser Gerard of the Order of St. Jude. The meeting spot was one that did not blend seamlessly with the quaint and idyllic Halfling boroughs. This place was a stone tower, and signposted as the ‘Southern Fortress of the Shire’. While a mere two storeys in height, the tower entrance was remarkably well-secured; as this was in stark contrast with Halflings customs (who, seemingly, adhere to the cultural practice of leaving no door unbarred), local Halflings expressed both distrust and disdain for the individual who inhabited this tower - ‘Vindacus’. During this initial expedition, we were yet unaware that ‘Vindacus’ and ‘Okhaust’ were one and the same. Instead, we anticipated that ‘Vindacus’ may be either the host, master, or servant of ‘Okhaust’. As it happened, we were soon weaned off that notion when it became clear no locals knew anyone by the name of ‘Okhaust’ - the figure who lived in the oddly-secured tower was known to all as ‘Vindacus’. Furthermore, he was not a Halfling. To this day, his exact relationship with the Shire remains unknown. Permission from the Halfling Sheriff was obtained to breach Vindacus’ tower. The Light, however, did not oblige us, and the reinforced doors rebuked our advance. At the time, there seemed to be no one inside. Yet, by the will of Caius Primus, we resolved to besiege the fortress - either to entrap Vindacus upon his return, or succeed at a later infiltration. While I rode to return to the Holy See to obtain tools with which we might pry open the doors, a figure within the tower emerged while Caius Primus and Ser Gerard yet stood vigil. In his Field Chronicle, Caius Primus recounts, “We found a man in plate livery. He was a brute, silent and masked. Villorik’s investigation into the necromancer has prior taught us this as a sign associated with a Ghoul-Guard. Necromancers tend to surround themselves with such men. I have learned that this man was called Handil later on, an Adunian. This one was a crafty foe, utilizing traps and spears to thwart our advances. Though we were forced to retreat, we vowed to return with greater force”. So it was that Vindacus’ tower endured our initial inquisition. In the weeks that followed, various Ordermen ventured out to this tower again, but it became clear the doors had been treated with a fell magic, for they would not permit our advance. Furthermore, the tower itself seemed entirely abandoned - this is of little surprise, for it is practice among the Shadowspawn to flee a den upon which the Light’s radiance shines. ⋅ ───────────────⊱༺⠀☨⠀༻⊰─────────────── ⋅ III. THE KOVACHEV INFILTRATION - 534 E.S. | 1981 A.H. By 534 E.S., it was relatively assured that Vindacus had abandoned his lair in the Shire; not only had his man Handil witnessed a direct attack on it by Caius Primus and Ser Gerard, but numerous failed attempts to infiltrate by various inquisitors clearly rendered the place ill-suited for covert Shadowspawn activities. All the same, the Light would not abide indifference towards a stone yet unturned. The one success of note compelled from this notion was a result of the efforts of Fyodor Kovachev, and his kinsmen. The Carnatian banner had recently settled in the Kingdom of Haense under the writ of King Ivan VIII, but it was the will of both the Haeseni King and my lord Caius Primus that these men undergo penance; for, in the Covenant War, they had set aflame a Canonist temple within Petra. The task of assigning this penance fell to me, and the act I demanded of them was to breach Vindacus’ fort, and uncover what remained within. Compelled by the Light’s mercy, Lord Fyodor succeeded. As expected, there spanned a complex underground complex beneath Vindacus’ fort - a near-universal trait among all servants of the Shadow. This complex was, naturally, well-defended, and Lord Fyodor’s company faced an abundance of iron-barred doors and even a loaded cannon, waiting for an intruder. In their good fortune, there was no Shadowspawn present to man the cannon, and, in any case, the powder appeared to have gone unchanged for some time and had grown damp. Alas, there was little of true intrigue unveiled within the tower by Lord Fyodor. Ample experience with the Shadow leads me to the belief that there may exist a hidden door within the complex that leads to a deeper-still part of the tower - in most Shadowspawn dens, these hidden areas contain their ritual sites and places of worship of the Shadow. In any case, the effort expended to breach any deeper portion of the tower was, by now, considered moot, for it seemed likely beyond belief that Vindacus had resettled elsewhere. So it was that the matter of Vindacus languished in obscurity for many years, until long after the death of my lord Caius. ⋅ ───────────────⊱༺⠀☨⠀༻⊰─────────────── ⋅ IV. THE IVORII INCIDENT - 558 E.S. | 2005 A.H. The investigation into Vindacus had gone cold since 534 E.S.; the man in question had never been seen, and therefore could not be recognised, while his servant Handil had likewise escaped the inquisitive gaze of the Church. In the intervening years before this tale reached its unexpected end, the White Comet unveiled the identity of Vindacus’ correspondent ‘Reynard’ as ‘Reynard Delmar’ - the mortal name of the lich known as the Gravelord Kryndomere, leader of the Murkwater Coven. It transpired that he appeared to have some business dealings with Vindacus, but the extent or nature of these yet eschews us. It was, however, in 558 E.S. that an Orderman by the name of Vincenzo approached me within the Temple of Lemon Hill. He claimed he recognised my name from Caius Primus’ Field Chronicle, and that he had been instructed by one of the Canon Judges to reopen the case into Vindacus -- for he had been found. Remarkably, Vindacus did not veil himself with a fake name nor hide in a faraway pagan hovel. He openly used his name, and had endeared himself to the newly-settled Ivorii people upon the mountain where the Magehold of Hohkmat once stood. So it was that Vincenzo bid me assist him, and I obliged; we rode to the Ivorii stronghold, where Vincenzo promptly identified Vindacus on account of his stature, and later his sickly, corrupted visage. Vincenzo performed the rites of vindication upon Vindacus as the man kvetched and complained, but it yielded nothing. We of insight into the workings of the Shadow, however, know that tests of vindication unveil only a select echelon of weaker Shadowspawn. It was my proposal that we take Vindcaus to his old tower within the Halfling Shire, and assess whether he carried upon him keys to the heavy doors. We did so, and my suspicions proved apt. Vindcaus did possess the keys to the tower, though this was not a fact he tried to hide. He identified it as his former abode, and so it was confirmed that this Vindacus was indeed the very same that Caius Primus and I had once hunted many years earlier. Vindacus, however, pleaded innocence; he claimed that he had corresponded with the ‘lich’ - a critical confirmation of Reynard’s true identity - in order to trick him. When pressed for particulars, Vindacus claimed that he sought to manipulate Gravelord Kryndomere for ‘treasure’ - particularly, Boomsteel. It was only when further confronted by me that Vindacus hastily added he sought to slay Kryndomere, too. These words were of little conviction, but Vindacus claimed there existed a journal within his tower that would verify his alibi. Uncooperative as he was, Vindacus would only permit Vincenzo into the tower with him to retrieve the journal, but Vincenzo vouched that he was willing to undertake the risk. In some surprise, Vincenzo did emerge unscathed with Vindacus a few moments later, but the journal was no longer in the tower. Vindacus pleaded that his ally, a man with the familiar name of Handil, could vouch for him, though. My own time at the Shire drew short, for I had to depart, and so it was that called upon Vincenzo to deliver his verdict. Vincenzo resolved that Vindacus may have been tricked by the Shadowspawn, and sought to seek out Handil to verify his account. At this stage, I could stay in the Shire no longer, and left. ⋅ ───────────────⊱༺⠀☨⠀༻⊰─────────────── ⋅ It is with regret that I did not slay Vindacus in the Shire on that day. Alas, the passage of decades since the initial inquisition had dulled my memory to the particulars of his dealings, and it was only upon my return to the White Comet Chapter House that I reviewed the contents of this dossier, and became assured of Vindacus’ guilt. Alas, the Light had already anointed a more fitting champion in the form of the Petrine brigade, who stood steadfast against threats made by fellow Canonists who sought to defend Vindacus. The Light’s will, and that of Caius Primus, is finally done. I say unto the Canon Judges that, as Pontifical Commandment, I am assured that Vindacus was an ally or customer of the Murkwater Coven of Necromancers, who was both aware and indifferent to their true nature as servants of the Shadow and enemies of the Light. I am further assured that Vindacus himself may be a breed of Shadowspawn, on account of his extreme longevity (it had been vouched by Vincenzo that Vindacus had lived through the fall of Oren) and openly corrupted appearance. The exact manner of Shadowspawn he may be, however, is unknown, but this secondary assurance is moot given his blatant dealings with Necromancers. LIGHT PRESERVE & PREVAIL, Pontifical Commandant

To cut a long story short, the complete Voidal incompatibility is gonna be added later for a bunch of reasons, the above included.

Thanks, but just to note the others were not submissions but WIPs to field ideas and narrow down a definite concept for actual submission.

The idea here is that the magic's entire culture is based on Humanity being promised the Seven Skies, as counterweight to Iblees' curse. As a result, changing your 'fate' and avoiding that promise (by reviving after death), feels wholly inconsistent. Likely we would have included some other revive mechanics here, but most of them are already covered by the fact that they will usually change your soul's afterlife destination, so Klones was a bit of an outlier in that regard. In a nutshell, for a magic that's all about Humanity's promised afterlife, 'denying' that afterlife via Klone revival is fundamentally against that. Myself and Julius are discussing clarifying the redline around Voidal compatibility - but yes, you're probably right. The initial redline came from the idea that it could be cooler to have an indirect incompatibility, but the sheer volume of Voidal magics and their individual quirks presents some complexities. This will probably be amended later today. Good spot - I can't believe I missed this. Added now. This is something we're going to add in with the changes later today. As is, Despair is probably only a really a factor for higher-tier Adherents casting bigger Portents in close proximity to one another (and this is what Despair is mechanically intended to balance). I get what you mean and I'll discuss the idea with Julius when we sit down to review initial feedback later today - I'm a bit cautious about how we should approach increasing the severity of Despair for lower tiers (I'm assuming this is what you're essentially proposing) for the use of their mostly-aesthetic spells. Yes, the harshness is intentional for a few reasons. Mainly, it's an in-built way of enforcing rarity with the magic, significant character attachment/relationships , time investment, and anti-minmaxxing. I'll consider this with Julius, since he has a few proposals for tweaking the Envoy system anyway, but overall I do kind of want it to stay as it is to keep that in-built enforcement. I also think it adds a lot of significance to the magic in terms of your character's development. The assumption is that if it takes 3 Adherents 5 emotes, then that means five turns, but I suppose there's no much harm in clarifying as you suggest. Rituals are all non-combative; asides from Condemnation, I don't want to enforce too much mechanical red-tape over something mostly aesthetic. That part of the mechanics is actually meant to read "which need not be rings"; I'm just an idiot and didn't proofread. Thanks & fixed. I can agree only in the context if they're death is, for example, unknown to be a murder. Otherwise, though, in terms of paying tribute to a character as Mourning is intended, the omission of their death/how their story ends feels like a huge one. An Adherent can't get to whatever information they want by virtue of the fact that redlines stipulate the memory must be a traumatic/mentally distressing one. This gives a confessor two tools to deny an Adherent from particular memories - (1) the Portent requires consent from the outset, and (2) the confessor can essentially choose what memories are visited. The Adherent can't leave a given memory to go explore another one, so I feel like this is adequate control for the confessor. We've added that it can't be used on MArts. I'm unsure if you have any other examples of objects it should be unable to cure. It's specifically intended to work against all forms of altered souls. One of the big themes of Canon Adherence is purity of soul, and so any blemish on that soul can be seen as an offense against the magic and its energy. I also don't want to draw lines of what is/isn't a "dark creature" purely on the basis of what is technically a Dark Magic, since, obviously, cultural interpretations of what is a darkspawn are a lot more nuanced (Azdrazi being a prime example). As far as Heist destruction, I'm not sure I agree. I've participated & overseen multiple Heists in which ST artefacts have been destroyed. I'm not sure why this wouldn't work. Any kind of barrier can offset the Portent's effects. We can clarify the redline when we're making changes later. While I wouldn't at all agree that Humanity is controlled by the same set of players, I can understand the perspective. The idea here is to bring more magical flavour to these Human communities and help end the years-old standoff between Humanity and the ST, who have largely followed different lore, tempos, and canons. Thanks a lot for your feedback and engagement not only here, but on the 2 WIP drafts. I know writing comprehensive feedback can be tiring work, but it's genuinely very much appreciated.

Thanks Toffee - in terms of rarity, I think the Envoy system (which requires another Human to PK) enforces some of the rarity you're alluding to here. In theory, it would take a lot of time and investment for an Adherent to enlist the help of an Envoy, and obviously since the Envoy has to end up dying, there can be a good bit of significance attached to these events. Based on this, I don't anticipate there'll be a lot of Greater Adherents running around.

I mentioned this in my reply to Wizry earlier, but that was my initial interpretation of the new lore too - magic was impossible. But, in the course of talking with the ST admin, that doesn't appear to be the case and the position seems to be that magic is possible, but difficult/rare. In turn, ST also expressed the view this is sort of the norm for any magic and is a sort of boilerplate disclaimer. Admittedly, I'm still a bit confused by the wording approach, but I'll take the ST statement and run with it for now. This is intended as a type of cleric. It's actually meant to enhance and supplement 'religious' RP by helping promote fantasy cleric characters who aren't just darkspawn hunters or healers, and instead actually places a lot of focus on religious rites (marriage via Betrothal, death via Requiem and Sanctuary, etc.) alongside a lot of flavour aesthetic that draws on the Seven Skies and Human themes of history and legacy. It's not written to be the 'only' cleric magic on the server and can easily coexist with others. If you mean a weakness in the mechanical sense, this magic's use of Despair probably covers this - in contrast with weaknesses like Voidal strength, this is a spiritual weakness that, in its severe stages, makes a character flee combat and are susceptible to intimidation/persuasion. If you mean more like what Wizry was talking about earlier in terms of a more narrative/connection consequence, I think it's important to bear in mind what these are trying to achieve/promote in a character in the context of a map. Going back to the example when I was replying to Wizry, the answer that I'm inclined to here is that these consequences form part of a character's relationship with the magic itself and their patron. Given Adherence is in a unique spot in terms of its patron being an unresponsive collective, I don't think that makes quite as much sense here. At the same time, though, that character/patron relationship isn't waylaid here, and the role of the Seven Skies is pretty present throughout.

The reason I'm cautioning against arbitrariness is best summed up like this: What role does this connection consequence play in your character? For some of the magics you've mentioned, specifically deific ones, they obviously play an important role in terms of your character's relationship with your patron, which, in turn, is a cornerstone of that magic's culture and aesthetic. Although technically deific, that logic doesn't really translate into Canon Adherence. There is a profound relationship with the Human afterlife here both in terms of the actual source of the magic, and the wider Human themes of collectivity, legacy, and history. So, looping back to the concern of arbitrariness, for me it arises in that the relationship between this magic and its collective patron is one that goes right to the heart of that magic. Maybe a better way for us to get on the same page is for you to posit what role you think a connection consequence should play in a magic like this. I also think it's a little over the top to say it's extremely jarring there's no soul consequence here when this magic, one that is integrally involved in both the soul and human afterlife. The same is true for 'no reason not to take it' - in terms of minmaxxing, the magic is quite uncombative and offers very little edge compared to other magics. Secondly, the Envoy mechanic is a fairly reinforced RP & time requirement that prevents anyone from 'just taking it'.

Going back to this, I'm not really sure it's substantiated to say there's no downsides, or that there must be a connection downside. In terms of narrative, the entire magic is based on the premise of the original promise that Humans would ascend to the Seven Skies, so it doesn't make sense to depart into afterlife/soul-based downsides. Suggesting a requirement for a connection consequence here feels fairly arbitrary simply because other magics have it (when it makes sense for them). Character development and narrative weight comes from the individual character and their story, and mandating a connection consequence feels very out of place in that regard. Mechanically, there are plenty - i.e., Despair, Sacred Aurum, etc.

This is a concern I initially shared, but after talking to ST admin he confirmed this isn't the case.

Hi - it may be helpful for everyone to articulate your opinion in a way that can be engaged with and built on. It seems to be a common trend among some groups to post stuff like this without really reading, engaging, nor trying to have a discussion.

⋅ ───────────────⊱༺⠀☨⠀༻⊰─────────────── ⋅ So it was that the Archdaemon was vanquished, and his Curse lay heavy across the land. For his part, Malin watched as the holds of the Forest Folk grew silent and empty, bereft of new life and heirs to their wilting banners. Yet, for all their regret, they had helped see the Archdaemon laid low, and so the Aenguls promised them long and tranquil lives. For his part, Urguan watched as his brethren in the Hill Tribes squabble and feud for rations and wealth, even when their coffers brimmed. Yet, for all they coveted, they had helped see the Archdaemon laid low, and so the Aenguls promised them great strength and vigour. For his part, Krug endured as a primal anger swept his clan like a plague, ensuing an endless cycle of kinsman slaying kinsman for no greater purpose than raw instinct. Yet, for all they fought, they had helped see the Archdaemon laid low, and so the Aenguls promised them unrivalled honour. For his part, Horen watched his great lineage wither, and his villages despaired, for the world they had fought for with such valour was now denied to them, but for a few brief decades. Yet, for all they wept, they had helped see the Archdaemon laid low. And so it was that the Aenguls promised Humankind the Seven Skies. HOLY MAGIC DEIFIC | 2 SLOTS (MINOR ADHERENCE) | 4 SLOTS (GREATER ADHERENCE) ⋅ ───────────────⊱༺⠀☨⠀༻⊰─────────────── ⋅ The destiny of Humankind is the Seven Skies. For when the Four Brothers stood victorious over the Archdaemon Iblees upon the shattered fens of Aegis, the Tribe of Horen was stricken by the Curse of Transience; that which condemned them to short lives. It was the mercy of the Archaengul Aeriel - she whose divine intervention spelt Iblees’ defeat - that the gates of the Seven Skies were opened to Human souls. So it was that the departed found solace eternal within the vestigial radiance of the Sun - the legacy of the Creator - in the Seven Skies. For aeons, this promised destiny has been sung throughout Human history. To some, this promise became a faith; to others, a fiction. While the Seven Skies’ true cosmic role eludes even the souls that inhabit it, this was done little to deter Humankind - their scant years are spent in virtuous toil in the belief that they will watch from the Skies as their children harvest the fruits of their labour. Through the strength of this promise, empires had been carved from the earth, continents conquered, and dreams both realized and corrupted. Naturally, the bounty of souls affords the Seven Skies a great power that sustains the cradle of creation, but it is largely estranged from the living who yet walk the Material. The wayward touch of the Seven Skies is the fickle source of inexplicable miracles - from a soldier’s broken blade repairing itself in battle, to a child weathering a demon’s curse. For millennia since Aeriel first bid Human souls enter the Skies, these random, fate-defying miracles were the only true sign that the denizens of the Skies watched over the Material. Until one of these miracles blessed the first Human with the Vow. The miracle through which the power to invoke other miracles came to be. ⋅ ───────────────⊱༺⠀☨⠀༻⊰─────────────── ⋅ THE VOW Since the fall of the Archdaemon Iblees, the bounty of the Seven Skies was promised to Humans by the Archaengul Aeriel as their elysian afterlife to compensate for their cursed lives. Whether draped in the auspices of religion or as a magical anomaly, power has bled out from the cosmic afterlife as inconsistent, haphazard miracles. That, however, changed when the first Adherent was blessed with the Vow. Named so for Humankind’s promised destiny, the Vow became the power interred with Humans that allowed them to call upon other miracles, as if they themselves had become an anchor on the Material. The Vow was truly a miracle in every sense of the word, for not only did it grant a Human the favour of the Seven Skies, but so too did it allow them to imbue the Vow within others as if passing a torch. Mechanics Redlines Compatibilities ⊱༺⠀☨⠀༻⊰ PORTENTS & CASTING Those Humans blessed by the Vow are gifted with the ability to call upon the Seven Skies’ storied miracles - fate-defying acts that bleed just a fraction of the Skies’ paradisian power onto the Material. In Canon Adherence, these acts are dubbed ‘Portents’, which manifest as shimmering threads of ethereal light that weave an effect into being, as if forming part of a tapestry. Mechanics Redlines ⊱༺⠀☨⠀༻⊰ SACRED AURUM Even the most adept Adherent cannot invoke Portents unaided. While the Vow allows them to call upon the Skies, they cannot channel their blessings without the use of a catalyst forged from Sacred Aurum. Whether in the form of a dagger or polehammer, these catalysts of pure, enchanted gold must always be to-hand for an Adherent, lest the bounty of their Vow is beyond reach. In turn, though, using Sacred Aurum comes with a sacrifice of its own, for the material is innately heavy to the point of hindrance. Mechanics Redlines ⊱༺⠀☨⠀༻⊰ DESPAIR While the bounty of the Seven Skies is infinite, the ability of an Adherent to invoke it is not. While the Vow within them acts as a vessel for blessings, overuse of its potential effectively ‘burns out’ an Adherent’s own soul temporarily, sapping them of willpower, courage, and energy. This effect is known in Adherency as Despair, and it is aptly named, for, once afflicted, Adherents gradually lose their courage and willpower as they become spiritually weak. Mechanics Redlines ⊱༺⠀☨⠀༻⊰ ARCLIGHT The most common physical manifestation of the Seven Skies’ bounty is in the form of Arclight - a shimmering, glassy golden hardlight that can be honed into blade and bulwark alike. Ergo, Portents that summon Arclight form one of the means by which Adherents can do battle. Arclight, while greatly versatile in which it can be moulded through various Portents, is naturally limited; this heaven-sent hardlight cannot retain its physical form for more than a few mere moments, before dissipating into immaterial glass-like shards. Mechanics Redlines ⊱༺⠀☨⠀༻⊰ ENVOYS When graced with the Vow, an Adherent can learn to channel basic Portents that impart wondrous blessings from the Seven Skies. Those who wish to hone their gift beyond a fledgling state, however, face an arduous trial - for they require the assistance of an Envoy. An Envoy is a Human who enters a pact with an Adherent through the Portent of Covenant. In doing so, when an Envoy perishes and their soul transcends to the Seven Skies, this ‘perfects’ the Vow within the Adherent, allowing them to channel more potent miracles. While the Envoy’s soul will lose their individuality in the Skies, the Adherent will inherit the Envoy’s will - their driving goals, ideals, and beliefs. Mechanics Redlines ⋅ ───────────────⊱༺⠀☨⠀༻⊰─────────────── ⋅ CONNECTION The path of honing one’s Vow is a monumental spiritual journey, one that requires years of meditation and inner-discipline. When a Human has achieved true mastery over their gift, however, they can imbue an essence of their own Vow within another to induct a new Adherent into the art. The process of Avowal, therefore, is a most sacred one. AVOWAL | Tier 5 | Non-Combat | Ritual | Special Use The ceremony of elevating a new Adherent is the natural cornerstone of Canon Adherence, and one that requires not only the consent, but the aid, of several adepts of the art. If an aspiring Adherent kneels before an altar of Consecration, three master Adherents can invoke the potent miracle of Avowal, through which their power is pooled, and a mote imbued within the new Adherent. Mechanics Redlines TIER I & TIER II The school of Minor Adherence is for novice Adherents who either lack the means to temper their gift with the aid of an Envoy, or have chosen not to. Minor though it may be, even basic Portents prove immeasurably difficult for an Adherent to handle - without considerable mental and spiritual fortitude, it is akin to trying to catch smoke. Progression ENVOY ENHANCEMENT Only through the aid of a departed Envoy, one who forms a pact with an Adherent through the Covenant Portent, is the Vow within an Adherent perfected, and amplified so that it can invoke blessings of greater calibre and complexity. COVENANT | Tier 2 | Non-Combat | Special Use Through the Portent of Covenant, light spools from an Adherent’s catalyst, imbuing themselves within a willing Envoy. It may take hours or years, but when the Envoy perishes and their soul transcends to the Seven Skies, their bond with the living Adherent enhances the Vow within them. In doing so, the ideals and beliefs of the Envoy are inherited by the Adherent, while the Envoy’s soul becomes lost in the Skies’ solar radiance. Mechanics Redlines TIER III, IV & V With their Vow fuelled by the will of their Envoy, a Greater Adherent is unfettered in their pursuit of greater understanding and communion with the Seven Skies. Doing so, however, demands years of spiritual training in order for Portents of increasing complexity to be manifested from their Sacred Aurum. Few Humans are blessed to pact with an Envoy, and so it the burden lies with them to honour their aid with years of toil. Progression DISCONNECTION Just as a gift may be granted, so too can it be taken away. Though the collective souls of the Skies lack individuality, there are some acts so universally perverse to them that they will permanently extinguish the Vow within an offending Adherent. So too, however, can an Adherent’s fellows attempt to strip them of the power through the grim rite of Condemnation. Severing Offences CONDEMNATION | Tier 5 | Non-Combat | Ritual | Special Use Whether through selfish ambition or righteous judgement, master Adherents can seek to extinguish the Vow within one of their fellows through the Portent of Condemnation. Whether voluntarily or otherwise, the Adherent-to-be-severed must be kept before an altar of Consecration, while their fellows draw out the threads of light that first incepted the Vow within them. Mechanics Redlines ⋅ ───────────────⊱༺⠀☨⠀༻⊰─────────────── ⋅ SANCTUARY | Tier 1 | Non-Combat The most basic forms of blessing are invoked through the Portent of Sanctuary, through which Adherents can endow a small measure of power in the world. These modest blessings, enshrined in places of rest, offer a small balm to weary Descendants - both living, and dead. Mechanics Redlines ⊱༺⠀☨⠀༻⊰ RESPITE | Tier 1 | Non-Combat The world is ripe with suffering, from mortal wounds to supernatural curses. While even the bounty of the Seven Skies is powerless to cure it all, Minor Adherents can offer some brief respite through the blessings of Respite. This Portent serves to alleviate any ongoing ailment that plagues a Descendant, whether it be poison, a curse, or a natural illness. True to its nature, however, Solace is but a temporal reprieve. Mechanics Redlines ⋅ ───────────────⊱༺⠀☨⠀༻⊰─────────────── ⋅ BETROTHAL | Tier 2 | Non-Combat | Enchantment The legacy of Humankind is achieved through its dynasties and bloodlines, both great and small. Ergo, the founding of families is a sacred act, and one that is enhanced through the blessings of Betrothal. This Portent always an Adherent to bless twin tokens of marriage with a mote of power; this subtle Enchantment radiates the bonds of affection held between spouses, especially when they are apart, and they can even hold reminiscent traces such as scents, colours, and faint musical notes - all to remind one spouse of the other. Mechanics Redlines ⊱༺⠀☨⠀༻⊰ EXORCISM | Tier 2 | Combat & Non-Combat There are many things that lurk unseen, from mischievous spirits to malevolent geists. Whether they hide in plain sight or possess something else, an Adherent can expel them from their hiding spot and render them corporeal through the Portent of Exorcism through which a pulse of light radiates from the casting Adherent, forcing those who hide to come into the light. Mechanics Redlines ⊱༺⠀☨⠀༻⊰ MOURNING | Tier 2 | Non-Combat To bid farewell to the fallen is a solemn rite across all cultures, both Human and otherwise. Through the Portent of Mourning, an Adherent can commemorate the life and death of one who has perished in their funeral ceremony; as their remains are laid to rest, memories can be draw from their transcending soul that illustrate the great moments of their life in an illusory theatre of white-gold light, so that they might be committed to memory. Mechanics Redlines ⋅ ───────────────⊱༺⠀☨⠀༻⊰─────────────── ⋅ REQUIEM | Tier 3 | Non-Combat | Ritual | Lore Location The nature of Humankind is struggle and conflict - for, without these trials, there can only be stagnation. Even so, the battlefields that scar the continents are wastelands of the vanquished, to whom the Adherents can provide a small measure of comfort through the Portent of Requiem. In manifesting this powerful blessing through a conjoined tidal wave of gleaming threads, Adherents can consecrate the battlefields of yore, endowing them with a serene tranquility and glistening Arclight memorials for those slain. Mechanics Redlines ⊱༺⠀☨⠀༻⊰ HEAVENSENT | Tier 3 | Combat Arclight is the unbreakable vindication of the Skies, with which an adept Adherent can shape to their will through the Portent of Heavensent. Channelling this Portent imbues their Sacred Aurum catalyst with a sheen of Arclight, which they can discharge with a swing to send a crescent of slicing hardlight crashing at their mark. Mechanics Redlines ⊱༺⠀☨⠀༻⊰ GLASSBALM | Tier 3 | Combat & Non-Combat To heal with the power of any magic is a delicate sacrifice, one which is deftly illustrated through the Glassbalm Portent. To come to the aid of an injured ally, an Adherent can channel this blessing to conjure glassy-hold Arclight that can staunch open wounds and splint broken bones - of course, Arclight is but a temporary manifestation. A recipient of Glassbalm must be wary, though, for if they sustain a further wound, their Arclight coating will shatter to inflict even greater damage. Mechanics Redlines ⋅ ───────────────⊱༺⠀☨⠀༻⊰─────────────── ⋅ SANCTIFY | Tier 4 | Non-Combat | Ritual | Enchantment Without the aid of Sacred Aurum, an Adherent is a rudderless ship. It is through the blessings of Sanctify that mundane aurum can be transcended into its Sacred counterpart and imbued with the essence of the Skies. Sanctify does not lend itself easily, however, for a worthy tribute must be paid to the Seven Skies to commemorate the enormity of their gift. Mechanics Redlines ⊱༺⠀☨⠀༻⊰ CONFESSION | Tier 4 | Non-Combat Some of Humankind’s greatest wounds are not those carved into their flesh, but their minds. Through the Portent of Confession, an Adherent can delve into the memories of those plagued with trauma, and guide them through their inner thoughts in a bid to combat, and overcome, their internal strife. If they succeed, Confession acts as a balm on one’s soul, soothing mental anguish, guilt, and trauma. Mechanics Redlines ⊱༺⠀☨⠀༻⊰ PURIFY | Tier 4 | Non-Combat | Ritual & Non-Ritual Variants Dark Magic, as a source of corruption and taint upon the soul, is of great offence to the denizens of the Seven Skies. So it is that through the Portent of Purify, an Adherent can call upon their blessings to purge latent traces of Dark Magic from both objects and Descendants alike with the aid of their fellows. The process of Purify is an arduous one, though; not only does it invite Despair upon an Adherent, but each use of Purify leaves flecks of sickly darkness on their skin. Mechanics Redlines ⋅ ───────────────⊱༺⠀☨⠀༻⊰─────────────── ⋅ CONSECRATION | Tier 5 | Non-Combat | Ritual | Lore Location Whether pagan or codified, all schools of worship erect altars or idols of worship. No matter an Adherent’s underlying faith, the sacred Portent of Consecration creates a focal point, where the blessings of the Seven Skies are most concentrated upon the Material. Creating an altar of Consecration is not merely a form of tribute to the Seven Skies, but a necessity, for such altars are necessary conduits for many ritualistic Portents. Mechanics Redlines ⊱༺⠀☨⠀༻⊰ PARADISE | Tier 5 | Combat The Seven Skies foretells of divine bliss, but it is one that is not meant for those who yet walk the Material. Through the Portent of Paradise, an Adherent can embody but a fraction of the Skies’ true power as they thrust their catalyst into the ground, and exhibit a swirling aura of light in which heavenly bells chime, so blinding and intense that it burns and scours those who linger within it. Mechanics Redlines ⊱༺⠀☨⠀༻⊰ TAPESTRY | Tier 5 | Non-Combat The history of Humankind is a storied one that sings of mighty empires, noble knights, and depraved villains. The countless denizens of the Skies form the collective memory of this fabled history, and, by tapping into their collectivity through the Portent of Tapestry, an Adherent can not only indulge in those fleeting memories of history themselves, and allow others to as well. Mechanics Redlines ⋅ ───────────────⊱༺⠀☨⠀༻⊰─────────────── ⋅ Canon Adherence is a brand of cleric magic. While the area of clerics is an expansive one, Canon Adherence’s goal is to enhance roleplay associated with religion, order, and sacraments through its focus on Portents that offer new and engaging ways to conduct many religious roleplay events while also providing a free-form toolset to conduct player-events and drive more roleplay through Portents such as Confession and Tapestry. Drawing upon the Seven Skies’ relevance to Humans in particular, Canon Adherence also aspires to help incorporate magic and lore better into Human communities, which are typically disenfranchised from more recent facets of Server lore. In doing so, Canon Adherence also leaves ample room for other forms of cleric magic. Aspects such as the Envoy mechanic are intended to imbue a character’s journey to learning and mastering Canon Adherence with meaning, and feed heavily into the magic’s theme and roleplay approach to philosophy and reflection. By Xarkly & Julius

Funny way of saying I pushed you out of the way of a speeding car and took the hit myself .

you going to apologise for breaking my ankle yet

@itdontmattacan you teleport beamon back now

Villorik’s hair streamed in the wind. It was a warm day. The summer sun beat down on Villorik as he idled by the wildflowers in the forest clearing, where chirping crickets mingled with snatches of birdsong in the air. The wildflowers that dappled the clearing were in the peak of their bloom, their vibrant heads stirring in the soft wind, and the grass itself was warm from the sun’s touch. It was … nice. He did not remember feeling so … light, so oddly contented, in a long time. I should come out here more often, he thought to himself, and lay back on the matted picnic blanket spread out beneath him. He remembered having been worried about something, but that knot of anxiety was gone since he had come out to the woods. It mustn’t have been worth worrying about after all. He breathed in the forest air, before he pushed himself up and set to work. From the wicker basket he had brought, he began to set out the food; Prikaburren bread with a sweet orange chutney, imported all the way from Balian. Villorik had gone through a lot of trouble to get his hands on that, but he had a hunch that it would be worth it. She loves oranges. Even though he wore only plain woollens, Villorik sheened a light sweat when by the time he had poured two cups of mead, but it made him feel oddly cold. The woollens were comfortable, but they felt so strangely foreign, as if he had stolen them from another man. He did not dwell on it, though; abruptly, a twig cracked somewhere behind him, and Villorik spun. His hands instinctively shot to his waist, and drew his blade - … Villorik stared. My … blade? There was nothing on his belt, save for a half-empty waterskin. His eyes trailed up to the source of his noise, where a rabbit cautiously poked its head into the clearing. As it locked eyes with Villorik, though, it darted into the foliage with a rustle. There are no wolves in these woods, fool, he reminded himself with a dismissive laugh. I’ll have to tell her about this when she gets here. She’ll get a good laugh out of that. Villorik could not say how much longer he toiled at setting up the picnic. It felt like only a few minutes, but by the time he had set the meal out in little wooden bowls and porcelain cups, the sun was beginning to set, and had bathed the world in a deepening golden glow. The crunch of leaves beneath soft shoes marked her arrival, and Villorik looked up from the picnic with a broad grin. “Well, look who’s running late again!” he chided in jest, and planted his hands on his hips. From the trees, Amaya of Venzia emerged, her proud face lit in the evening light, and the jewellery around her neck flashing where it caught the sun. Beneath her silk kokoshnik, her eyes were downcast, as if lost in thought. “Not to worry, though; the wait will have been worth it. Take a look at this,” as she drew closer, Villorik presented the jar of orange chutney - within the blemished glass, its colour was not unlike the evening sky - like a hunter’s trophy. “Tada!” Amaya stopped a few feet from the picnic. Her eyes did not move from the ground, and she did not speak. “See?” he chimed. “I remembered oranges were your favourite. It was funny, actually, because I -” “How many is it now, Villorik?” ⋅ ───────────────⊱༺⠀☨⠀༻⊰─────────────── ⋅ Her words, soft and gentle, made every hair on his body stand on end. His eyes widened. His heart thrummed in his ears. “ … What?” “Since Lumbridge.” Her eyes, he realised, were not just downcast. They were shut. “How many is it now?” Just like that, the fog that had shrouded his memory lifted. Villorik felt weight in his hands. He looked down to see the long shaft of a polearm in his hands, the blade of which was buried into the dark breastplate of a helmeted woman, collapsed to a knee before him. In the place of blood, a pale mist seeped through the cracks in her plate around his glaive. His breath caught in his throat, Villorik let the glaive drop from his hands with a clang as he stepped back, only to trip on something on the ground behind him. As he fell, his body met the ground with a clank of metal. His plain woollens had been replaced with resplendent mail that had cushioned his fall over a corpse that had appeared behind him - a corpse of a red-skinned Cursed Child, dressed like a knight but for the twisted horns sprouted from her head. He stifled a cry as he clambered to his feet, and, in his haste, almost tripped over a long white cloak draped from his shoulders. His head whipped around, and he stopped himself from retreating further at the sight of more corpses strewn near the picnic basket, their faces filmed with death. He could recognise each and every one of them; a Dragonkin he had impaled in a garden; a Vampyre whose throat he had scored; a Warlock with a bloody ruin of a face. There were more corpses than Villorik could count. “That’s right,” echoed Amaya’s voice, solemn and weary, as she gave voice to those very thoughts. “You can’t count them. You’ve lived a long life.” In the light of the setting sun, the corpses lay strewn everywhere, as if a battle had been fought within the clearing. They lay piled on the ground, slumped against trunks, and hanging from nooses atop the branches. His blood froze when he saw they were not just Shadowspawn, either; he could spy no shortage of slashed and torn burgundy tabards that belonged to Veleztian soldiers he had killed as a much younger man, in a war long long ago. “A long life, and a bloody one.” His jaw clenched to the point of aching, Villorik fixed the warped memory of Amaya with a glare. “I do not deny it. I have -” “- your reasons,” Amaya finished. “And what have you got to show for it?” She took a step forward, and lifted her head. Malflame - pale and sickly - waxed around her, smouldering her clothes and parting her flesh like paper. “To what end have these corpses served you?” Slight as she was, Villorik could not help but recoil at her approach. Anger and fear alike bubbled in his throat. “I -” “You swore to make Andrey strong,” she went on in that soft, yet somehow overpowering, drawl, “but all you did was nurture the seeds of hate in him until they ruined him.” The malflame flared, peeling away more of her flesh, as red and bloody thorns began to curl around her right arm. “Your vow to Reza was doubly betrayed; first, you let Ailred die, and then you abandoned her to despair.” Behind Amaya, a body of a warrior - of Ailred - levitated in the air, before dissipating into motes of glowing ash, leaving his hammer to fall to the earth. “That … that’s not - …” Villorik began weakly, but the words failed him. His legs shook; he could barely stand under the weight of his own armour. “It wasn’t - …” “You forbid Tatiyana from following you into battle, so that you might keep her from danger.” There was a mocking edge to Amaya’s soft voice, now. “Yet it was not on the battlefield that she died, Villorik. You were not even at her side.” As Villorik backed up, his plated boots bumped into Tatiyana’s own body, her eyes brimming with malice as she glared up at him in silent accusation. “You were her father, Villorik, and you left her alone to die.” Rooted to the spot, he could do nothing but watch as Amaya raised a hand wreathed in burning Malflame towards him. “You promised Sermi you would grow stronger than she.” The skin fell away, leaving only bone fingers extended gently towards him, like a hand reaching in an invitation to dance. “And you promised you would find a way to free her soul from the Hells.” The fingers lingered mere inches from Villorik. “But what was it you did?” “ … Nothing!” a roar bubbled through the fear that petrified him, and he clenched his fists so hard that the seams of his gloves began to creak and pop. “I couldn’t do anything! I - I couldn’t free her, I couldn’t even kill her!” The Malflame climbed high along her body, gradually reducing her to a skeleton before him. Of her face, only her eyes - her eyes rife with hate - remained, glaring at him above a skinless nose. “That’s right,” she cooed, though her skeletal mouth did not move. “For all your power Deia gave you, you failed once more.” “ … That is another who you have failed, Villorik, isn't it?” There was a drip, a flow of thick liquid, as something appeared in Amaya’s bony hand. It was a decapitated woman’s head oozing a paste-like blood, though a child’s drawing covered her face like a cloth. “Another that you promised to save, but could not?” “S-she …” Villorik’s entire face quivered. “She chose -” “A demon over you, yes,” she cut in. “So hopeless was the alternative you offered, Villorik. Do you truly blame her?” Slowly, one of her eyes burned away into smouldering flakes, leaving only the other remaining of her original face, while the rest was burning bone. “Even Caius, the man you swore your fealty to, the man with whom you honed your blade as a hunter of the dark … what must he see, as he looks down from the Heavens, to see his faith in you squandered? To see not a single great enemy vanquished in the name of your shared cause?” The evening light had begun to fade as the sunset ebbed below the treeline, casting sharp shadows across the clearing of corpses. The bodiless head in Amaya’s hand melted away into formless sludge, sluicing through her fingers. “How could Caius do anything but lament?” Even without lips, Amaya somehow seemed to smile mirthlessly. “Worst of all, what about -” “You?” finished Villorik. The fear that had writhed within him was still there - slicing and raw - but the retort came easy to him nonetheless. “I have failed you most of all, haven’t I? Failed to avenge you, failed to honour you as a Saint so that your kindness would form the foundation of a gentler world. I do not deny it,” he seethed at the visage of Amaya, who only stared back with morbid curiosity. “I … I don’t deny any of these failures.” As he stared into Amaya’s one remaining eye, it seemed to shift. One moment, it was Amaya’s own, but then … its shape shifted, and welled with the pride of Andrey. Then, it became Rezalisa’s, marred with concern. Then it was Tatiyana’s, full of life’s fire. Sermi’s calculating ambition. Deia’s innocence. Caius’ regal surety. The final eye it shifted to was narrowed in a determined glare, burning with cold fury, and Villorik knew it was his own gaze, before it finally burned away with the rest of Amaya’s ghostly flesh. “ … So,” Villorik challenged the Malflame-cloaked skeleton. “Is … is this some death dream? Am I to die now?” As the last of the sun’s rays faded from the clearing, leaving only moonshadows to light the strewn corpses. “I am the only one who remains. A relic of a bygone era. A defective champion. So, if I’m to die …” He swallowed a lump in his throat. He felt tears well in his eyes as he glared down the skeleton, but what he longer felt was fear. “ … then fine.” For a moment - a long moment - Amaya was silent. The glow of the Malflame that snaked along her bones was what lit the clearing now that the sun had gone, but that light grew strangely soft as she reached down, and took one of Villorik’s own hands. The Malflame did not burn him. “Villorik,” came the whisper, an amalgamation of Amaya’s voice with all the others, “of course not.” Before he could answer, he felt the ghost gently press something into his chest. When he looked down, he watched the Malflame's sickly glow reflect on the polished surface of his winged helmet, parted from Amaya's hands into his. " ... You still have work to do," the torrent of voices croned, "it is because of your failures that you must see it through." "Three of those you must slay remain." The words seemed to blur together in his ears, becoming distorted, distant. Villorik's eyes snapped back up to the ghost, but so too did his vision seemed to bleed away in a greying swirl of colours, decaying into nothingness. "Kill the Three, and die in peace." ⋅ ───────────────⊱༺⠀☨⠀༻⊰─────────────── ⋅ Villorik woke with a start. He did not remember falling asleep out here in the woods beyond the walls of New Valdev - at the shrine of wildflowers that marked the spot Amaya had died - but he sat slumped in a moonlit forest clearing. The trees around him swayed in a brisk but soft wind, and the din of noise from New Valdev itself was even faintly audible over the occasional hoot of an owl or distant howl of a wolf. " ... A dream," Villorik said shakily as he pressed a gauntleted hand to his face, and sighed exasperatedly through his fingers. He certainly did not feel rested; even his nerves were frayed from the ordeal. No ... he corrected himself after a moment. Not just a dream. He knew Amaya - the real Amaya - would have been incapable of cruel words, no matter how true they were, but that did nothing to change the sentiment born from his own soul. His own sentiment, his own guilt. From battlefield to battlefield, from defeat to bitter defeat, he knew he had seen more in his life than any one man ought to. "A relic of a bygone era," he repeated, and permitted himself a joyless smile. Through his fingers, he looked to the circle of red flowers; to Amaya's memorial. In front of it was where he had shed his helmet, the wings of which glinted in the silvery moonlight. His aging body ached as he struggled to his feet, and scooped it up. He held the winged helmet in his hands, and stared down at his own reflection in the gilded visor. His face was lined with age, and his hair was as grey as ash. The helmet creaked as he slowly fixed it back over his head, obscuring his face once more. Through the helmet's noseguard, he inhaled deeply. He had three heads left to take. Three enemies left to kill. Then, he could die. As he started back towards the city, his steps were heavy, for they were weighed down by the souls of those he had failed. And those he had loved. By @ivery