Skylez

Well put together trailer, but the terrain itself does not look conducive to RP in the slightest. Looks very difficult to build on or travel. Looking back on previous maps, this one is probably going to be too big for the community to sustain it, unless I missed something somewhere about how they're going to try and centralize playerbases/RP. At this point, I'd rather RP on a vanilla generated world with a border, add some ruins or other POIs. 

I'd like to self-deny this lore please.

Lets do it

1 minute ago, Spindle said:

very cute, also curse you for taking my lore entry spotlight with this masterpiece.

LOL I noticed that as I was putting the post together. 
You totally beat me in formatting, well done.

♪♫♪

((Credit to DanielValerian))

A Reever of Garumdir grants their blessing to a promising artificer.

Background/Origin

Craftsmen have existed since the beginning of time and shall until the end of it. 

Several years ago, during the era of Axios, Garumdir, the Daemon of Craftsmanship and Innovation shed a fledgling of his unparalleled crafting expertise upon a handful of promising craftsmen and artificers. This led to the discovery and subsequent creation of the Animati that exist within the realm today. Afterwards, the Father of Machines turned back to his seemingly perpetual toils within his clockwork realm of Val’Garis, letting the descendants utilize the imparted knowledge as they saw fit.

However, with time eras change, from Axios to Atlas, to Arcas, and for as long as new lands are to be found and settled. Few things are truly common within the myriad of lands colonized, bar the descendants themselves and the dangers that seem to inevitably follow them. The cosmos are vast, perhaps even infinite. To witness and catalog all of creation is a monumental task. Garumdir sought for a solution. Having little interest in the squabbles of the Aengudaemons, but rather for the fires of innovation and the work of the crafts, a Reever was specifically sent from Val’Garis to the mortal realm. Upon arrival, the Reever firstly witnessed and recorded. Years turned to decades before it finally entrusted visions, dreams, and other thoughts into the minds of but a few Animati craftsmen that caught its attention.

Within these twisting, convoluted messages and symbology, how to ‘transcend’ or be risen among the Animati was somewhat understood. This would allow Animati and Machine Spirits to assume the role of a Reever of Garumdir. An undeniably massive charge in what that entails, which is something not to be undertaken lightly, it is reserved for those that are already esteemed in their crafts, whatever they may be, for those that have had the satisfaction and taste of completed projects. To serve as a witness, a scribe, a mentor, and so forth. To pursue the flames of innovation until either their end, or the end of the Descendants they are primarily charged to observe and record.

Feat Explanation

((Credit to Riot’s Illustration Team.))

A district within the Avant sphere of Val’Garis, the clockwork realm.

Reevers of Garumdir are not magical “endgames,” lacking high-tier combative or magic abilities. Instead, the abilities they do have serve to promote craftsmanship roleplay and what that entails. These will be detailed in the abilities section.

Reevers may come in a variety of appearances, such as appearing as almost idyllic machines, or imposing mechanical creations. However, they must mechanically conform to what is capable of being created by a Machine Spirit or Automaton CA, with minor, aesthetic differences being allowed. In this sense, they share the same strengths and weaknesses. These creations are considered the pinnacle of what can be crafted by the art of Automaton crafting. And are usually reserved only for those that have dedicated themselves to craftsmanship and artificery. As such, they are unable to learn or use voidal, deific, or dark magics. They are wholly dedicated to the art of the craft. They may have alchemical feats, should the lore allow Machine Spirits to do so.

It takes roughly four years to create a Reever frame from start to finish, one OOC month. A ritual follows to create the Reever themselves. The process to create a Reever frame can be assisted by other, normal Animati crafters, but it must be overseen by at least one Reever, as they understand the process behind their creation. This will lower creation time to three OOC weeks, as opposed to the creation being an individual undertaking. Upon an Animati or Machine Spirit being turned into a Reever, their CA is marked to denote such. This is an irreversible process. Unless the lore is somehow denied in the future, at which the current Reevers will be allowed to either PK and be sent to Val’Garis, or to be returned to their status prior to the changing, whether that is an Animati or Machine Spirit. 

Reevers follow the same death/revival rules as Machine Spirits, meaning that created frames should be documented and available if asked, if a Reever perishes without another frame, they are PK’ed. Their soul, (or consciousness/identity if not a Machine Spirit), are whisked away to Val’Garis, the clockwork realm, where they shall remain.

(See Garumdir lore for info about Val’Garis)

Physical Effects

((Credit to an unknown artist, from Torchlight II))

The industrial appearance of a Reever that frequently spectates the forging of armaments.

The pinnacle of Automaton Crafting, Reevers appear different from other, possibly crude or conventional Animati. A Reever frame is a thing of masterwork, and each takes great care to make, far from being expendable or easily replaceable. Within their gear heart, ethereal sparks and currents of what best can be described as electricity lowly hum. This is called a clockwise current, due to the sparks and current running clockwise around their heart, as the name suggests. While not containing or granting a soul in itself, this signifies them as a Reever, and with their death it passes to the next frame curated for them, or into the realm of Val’Garis, carrying their identity with it. While adhering to the physical limitations of regular Automaton, such as being humanoid in appearance, there is likely to be a notable, visual distinction between the two. This is largely up to the creator(s) of the chassis. They could appear nearly idyllic, akin to a fine statue, or opposing and otherworldly, human-like, yet distinctly not, as if made from some form of organic metal. Curiously, there is something shared among all Reevers, in the sense that their appearance is likely to change in a gradual fashion depending on what types of crafts or innovations they witness and record. For instance, if a Reever frequently spectates and aids a jeweler, their frame will gradually take on a more ornate, crystalline appearance. One that is accustomed to viewing the creation of weapons of war would begin to look more industrial and crudely efficient. This process is not fully understood, but it likely originated from Val’Garis, where groups of Reevers could easily associate with others that looked somewhat like themselves, and in turn share expertise related to the same common crafts that they were knowledgeable in. Still, these designs must be mechanically sound, they are still very much machines and carry all the strengths and limitations of one.
 

Mental Effects

((Credit to larsweiler))

A Reever that has grown well accustomed to witnessing and recording intricate crafts, resulting in a regal appearance.

Automatons that are made into Reevers will experience some degree of mental changes as they are geared towards different, new purposes. They feel inclined to seek out those that create, to observe, to witness. After all, knowledge is more valuable when one is meant to catalog and record that which pertains to craftsmanship or innovation. This could lead to the stockpiling of items or objects to observe, study, and understand. If the Reever feels an absence of craftsmen, they will seek to teach or instruct others, granting them that initial ‘jumpstart’ to pursue their own projects. Because of this, they may form groups or guilds dedicated to these ventures, of both cataloging and ‘passing down’ the arts. This could come in a variety of forms, such as tailoring, mundane or magical tinkering, smithing, carpentry, masonry, automaton crafting, alchemy, or so forth. To witness and record, brings them joy and an additional sense of purpose, as does creating themselves.

Just as Garumdir carries a deep love for the craft, so do his Reevers. As without the maker’s shaping, little would exist in this world. A Reever would not seek to needlessly destroy unless some severe, proper reason serves them to do so. Innovative crafters are held in high regard by Reevers and are to be protected in their psychology, along with the fine works that are created because of them. They reside along the neutral spectrum, and tend to not hold allegiances to groups or other ideologies, unless they would somehow serve to benefit the art of the craft and the functions of a Reever. However, Reevers may feel somewhat differently compared to their peers, and what they deem as a ‘worthy craft,’ could change from one to another. They are not carbon copies, and exhibit their own sense of personality, both in their appearance, and how they act and perform their charge.
 

Ritual of Transference

((Credit to Wormwood Studios))
A Reever conducts their clockwise current.

It is far from an easy task to bring about the fruition of a Reever. Alongside taking three to four years/OOC weeks to create a frame, it is not something that every Animati crafter can perform, because of the need of a Reever to be present during the process. The overseeing Reever will undoubtedly have extremely high standards when it comes to bringing another of their kin to the realm. From design and specification of the chassis itself, to whoever is going to inhabit it. Undeniably preferring Animati and Machine Spirits that are esteemed craftsmen or scribes. This could come from years of witnessing and recording a potential candidate, or other means of learning of their innovations and crafts.

After the extensive process of creating a frame for the soon to be Reever, the Reever must grant a fraction of their main fluid to the gathered candidate. This potent ‘lifeblood’ of the Reever will make them more receptive to the ritual that follows, while gradually weakening them over time. In a sense, this forges the pair as kin through the transference of one's lifeblood, which is where the ritual inherits its name. The Animati pair must now both expose their gear hearts, leaving them extremely vulnerable in the process. Next, the Reever focuses all his efforts into overclocking his gear heart to draw forth the clockwise current within and channel it forth like a current. This is then latched onto the automaton by gently grasping the fragile heart or hovering the appendage within finger’s reach. The automaton gradually begins to feel its life ebb away, their heart slows, the mechanics within seeming to cease functioning. From here, the Reever carefully implants the current upon the dormant gear heart of the Reever frame. After this is done, the identity of the Animati or Machine Spirit is ‘transferred’ from their past body to their new. Over the course of two months/OOC days, the newly made Reever will awaken and begin to generate their own clockwise current so that they can regain control of their functions, with the third month being passed allowing them to function in a near normal state.

This is an extremely draining process for the Reever. Along with the transference of some of their main fluid and conducting the current within their gear heart, which is done via overclocking, the Reever must make repairs to themselves and be in a stable state for four years/OOC weeks before the ritual of transference can be performed once more. One must be a Reever for four OOC months before being able to create Reevers themselves, so that they have the appropriate time and understanding on how to draw forth their clockwise current. It is worth noting that this ritual can not be done indefinitely. The stars are vast, and the mortal realm is just one among untold millions. While much innovation and craftsmanship is to be had here, it may be found amongst other realms likewise. Because of this, only six Reevers were allotted by Garumdir to the realm of Aos and Eos. However, should a Reever perish or fade into obscurity, another made be created to fulfill the vacancy they left.

Requires at least six continuous emotes to complete the ritual of transference. More may be added and certain aspects may be freeform, but the above details should be roughly followed.

Requires complete and uninterrupted focus.

Only an Animati or Machine Spirit can undergo the ritual of transference. It is marked accordingly on their CA to denote them as a Reever, an additional CA is not created.

Can only be done once every four weeks.

Only after being a Reever for four months can one create Reevers themselves.

A total of six (6) Reevers may be actively played at any one time. If a player is inactive or on hiatus for a total of four months, another may be created to take their place. If the inactive player returns, they may continue to play their character. This is the only way the cap may be exceeded. During this time of inactivity, if the Reever has not been PK’d, it is generally said to have gone off to different realms to perform their charge, that is, to witness and record.

Abilities

With the ritual of transference complete, a Reever is capable of learning the abilities listed below. The responsibility of teaching usually falls to the one responsible for their upbringing as a Reever of Garumdir. If for some reason a teacher is absent, a Reever can deduce their capabilities at a rate of one ability per two years/OOC weeks, starting from the top of the list and working down. Otherwise, they can successfully learn an ability from their instructor once every week. This is because the abilities are inherent to a Reever, but it takes additional time to understand and utilize them without proper guidance.
 

Reever’s Blessing - Non-Combative
 

Reever’s Spark - Non-Combative
 

Reever’s Displacement - Non-Combative
 

References
Garumdir Lore 
Contains initial Garumdir/Reever lore, and Val'Garis

Automaton Lore 
General Automaton lore, used as a basis for this piece.
Arcane Displacement lore 

 

Purpose
 

Frankly, craftsmanship/artificer roleplay overall on the server is fairly rare and typically reserved only for voidal artificery or alchemy at that. I think it’s fair to say crafting RP is enjoyable when done decently. It gives a sense of ‘life’ to the world, instead of just someone using a MC crafting table or etcetera to create mechanical items. While I agree not every block, item, or object in our virtual world should be created via RP (talk about redundant), I feel as if the server could greatly benefit from more crafting roleplay of all varieties. Reevers are meant to serve a ‘mentor’ role, inspiring a variety of craftsmen and teaching others how to create. Their abilities do not grant any inherent combative edge and serve to create instead of destroy. I tried to make their abilities largely flavorful and things that could be replicated via mundane means, alchemy, or magic. Since Garumdir cares little for the what and hows, believing that nothing is too unethical or wrong, Reevers could be found among a range of groups that seek to craft, regardless of their alignment or allegiances. 

In conclusion, I understand that a feat will not suddenly fix an absence of crafting roleplay on the server. Instead, these characters will serve as the dedicated foundations to bring about more crafting rp.
Regardless if this lore is accepted or not, I plan to promote and encourage that type of roleplay. 

 

Credits

Skylez1 - Writer
Phil/Sour_Doh - Writer of Garumdir and Automaton lore. 

Wouldn’t have been possible without him o7

Callixtus - Writer of the superb Arcane Displacement lore.

Various friends I gained feedback from, thank you.

Stopped by to find a flavor post from a few years ago and saw that Afflicted is undergoing a rewrite (again), and not only that, but that two different versions have been submitted.

For context, I originally wrote the Afflicted lore, and the 2nd iteration about what... 4-5 years ago now?

Comparing this to Mordu's version (and talking with Afflicted users on how the lore was/is handled), I much prefer this version and fully support the idea that the playerbase MA/TA should be wiped if this is accepted. It seems like a full refresh could be immensely beneficial to Afflicted as both a magic and community. Also I dig the nice little nod to Phil and I in the introductions, nice throwback.

I believe that this lore would be in very capable hands if this iteration is accepted.
While I have little intention to come back to the server, I'm sometimes around on discord if you wanna chat, snow.
Augustine#4364

God bless.

MC Name:

         DeoLegatus

Character's Name:

         Sideras

Character's Age:

         0

Character's Original Race (N/A if not applicable):

         N/A

Transformed form:

         Sorvian

Creator's MC Name:

         formenost

Creator's RP Name:

         Audmanas

Briefly explain the lore behind this construct or creature:

Sorvians are created or 'sculpted' by a sculptor, who lends some of their soul essence into their creation. This essence is bound by a porcelain mask that is imbued into a husk or body. These husks are compromised of a wooden skeleton and then covered with a layer of clay to serve as the 'flesh' of this body. These husks are of humanoid nature and proportion, scaling from three to six feet.
A Sorvian has two critical parts, their mask and chest cavity. Puncturing the latter will cause their soul essence to leak out of them, causing the Sorvian to perish over five emotes. A decapitated Sorvian will expire in the same way, but over a singular emote instead. Rupturing a Sorvian's mask will also cause the creation to die, masks will break with three solid hits. A sculptor can revive a Sorvian by acquiring the mask, which will detach from the body upon death, and attaching it onto another suitable husk. If the mask is destroyed, it can be recreated by the sculptor and placed upon a new body. An injuring Sorvian does not heal and must seek out a sculptor for repairs to the wound or so on.

Being made of clay and wood, they may be cleaved or injured easier than a descendant would be. However, they do not possess blood and have a high pain tolerance. Losing a limb would only prevent the usage of said limb, meaning it would not be a debilitating injury. Their senses are comparable to any other descendant, being average. Sorvians are created as a blank slate, yet hold a reverence for their creator. This reverence is not binding. They seek to interact with the world and the mortals within it, they will very likely take on an ideology and become totally enraptured by it, developing their person this way. Sorvians do not age and are 'timeless', but will show signs of weathering as the years pass. 

If this construct or creature has some form of aesthetic choice, can you describe how they look? 

Described above. Sorvians are clay humanoids, appearance can vary depending on what clothes they wear, but not much besides that.

Do you have a magic(s) you are dropping due to this app? If so, link it:

         No

Do you agree to keep Story writers updated on the status of your magic app?:

         Yes

Do you understand that if this creature's lore is undergoing an activity trial and that trial fails, you will no longer be able to play this creature and will be forced to either revert the character back to its normal form (if it was a transformative type) or stop playing the character entirely (if it is an entirely new creature)?:

         Yes

Memey RP or using this CA for subpar villain/bandit RP can lead to your app being denied, even after acceptance. Please put "I understand" as your response once you have read this part and understand the consequences.

         I understand

Have you applied for this creature on this character before, and had it denied? If so, link the app:

         No

MC Name: DeoLegatus
Discord: You have it

What is your profession RP of choice? Blacksmithing RP

Have you read and understood this lore? I have

Do you hate the Palebeast? Of course

Name: Kasimir

Discord: Augustine#4364

Do you accept the Son of Man into your heart? [this implies agreeing to a strict PK clause!]:
"Cloud Temple is a covenant of necromancers, I forsake them."

1 hour ago, Mordhaund said:

A question, man - been a while since you were in my group for sure, but what do you remember best about the experience [your favourite part of it / what happened that you enjoyed the most] and what do you think I could improve on when it comes to leading a group and generally guiding roleplay?

I really liked the amount of people you had involved, and most of them seemed pleasant to be around. It felt pretty fresh to have a number of people to RP with instead of bouncing off of the same 2-3 people, as some more niche groups have. On the other hand, I believe you tried really hard to appease everyone, and while this says a lot about you and that isn't inherently a bad thing, at times it felt like it was at the detriment of the group overall. 

11 hours ago, Screechr said:

Also. What's your most memorable group that you were apart of?

Aesthetic and overall theme? The Redshrouds. A brotherhood of the dead Swgrclan founded, comprised of mostly darkstalkers. We would roam around and harass both dark and holy groups, other undead, mages, etc, anything that was deemed to be an anomaly or something to be corrected.

For RP? Marked Men/Manticore Initiative. Met some great people through this group, and we created some amazing stories in my opinion, like the Mordskov eventline. Really set the bar for me in regards to RP, for better or for worse, as it was somewhat hard to look back after that.

Salutations,
The name gig is kind of new, this is Skylez1. After spending a good chunk of time playing on and off since 2013 I think it’s time I commit myself to leaving this server. As quite frankly I’ve found it ridiculous the amount of times I’ve disappeared without a word and re-emerged within the last year or so. I’ve never made a leaving post or an AMA before so I’m hoping this can give me, as well others some closure and finalization when it comes to me dipping.

If you don’t know me, I can’t say I blame you. I was never truly interested in becoming notable on the server through RP, PVP, or whatever. Most of my time I tried to ride the waves and just find a good circle of folks to have enjoyable RP with, occasionally delving into bouts of PVP. I started on this server playing an elf with the Salvus Shields back in Anthos. From the few things I can recall, I did enjoy my time here, but I lost interest in the server for one reason or another. I came back during early Vailor and have been playing irregularly since then. I’m grateful for branching out and getting involved in lots of different communities and types of RP. From elves, paladins, orcs, humans, undead, dark magics, strigae, ET, LT, and probably a dozen or so more, I’d like to think I have really been around the block. I’ve met some great people and experienced some amazing stories that I know I’ll remember for a very, very long time.

Why am I leaving? Old habits die hard. Prior to enlisting in the military in early 2019, in hopes of making something of myself and serving my country, I relied on LotC heavily for escapism from real life problems. From what I can remember, I typically racked around 20-35 hours on the server a week for many months. I was disconnected from reality in a way, relationships with my family and some friends deteriorated. Over time my mental health eroded as well, as while I consciously knew what I was doing, I clung to it because it was comfortable, easy, and fun at times. Nowadays, while I am far from that past state in my life, I find myself drawn back here time to time, as I look back fondly, and tend to dismiss the negative connotations. Part of me wants to keep on this self-improvement train, workout more than I do already, learn a new skill, take a productive hobby, the other half sees my online friends, LotC, and what that entails, as an “easy out,” the comfortable route that encourages me to be stagnant in life. I tend to get really invested and focused in whatever I put my attention on, sometimes for the worse, as shown here. I really want to keep moving forward with my life and experience all that I can experience, and I find that isn’t possible with having half of me clinging to LotC and online friends. The love of writing, literature, and storytelling this server fostered in me will stay with in my heart for the rest of my life, but I can’t keep returning to my past or I’m hamstringing myself and my future.
 

Keep on keeping on, push forth and accomplish all that you set yourself to, influence others positively through your lifestyle and your choices.

“As Iron sharpens iron, one person must sharpen another.”
Proverbs 27:17

Sentiments for others:

If I didn't mention you for whatever reason, I'll probably reach out to you soon as I make rounds over the coming days.

Never made an AMA so I figure why not now? Better late than never. I’ll reply to any questions left here for a few days. Fire away.

Footnote: This small piece of legend lore can be used as one of the several reasons why rituals such as those from Necromancy/Mysticism/Blood magic/Naztherak/Dark magic, etc, fail and can provide consequence to their failure, should an event come of it. Also can be made into a potential eventline for a lesser antagonist against dark mage types.

-

Legend

♪ ♫ ♪ ♫

((credit to an unknown artist))

The waxing moonlight drew in above the robed ritualists, numbering four in total. They were an experienced bunch, seasoned with several seances, callings, and communions they had performed with the dead. Dim candlelight complemented the moon, nestled about them in a crude circle. A sacrifice had already been rendered, blood viciously rent from an innocent woman they had snatched from the nearby hamlet. The ungodly chants began in their foreign, black tongue. The four wished to perform vivification, to dredge up the past spirit of their cadaver and extract knowledge from the agonized thing.

Years passed on and on since his arrival into the unsightly, washed out realm of Ebrietas, a domain of the Archaengul herself. This damned spirit had tried to cling their morality in unlife, donning a shroud of red and taking up arms against the mindless and malignant undead that plagued the realms which the descendants set foot upon. However what he sought to destroy in turn destroyed him, rending the phylactery which he carried upon himself to feel alive, as if human once more. Vengeance, determination, and sheer hatred overcame the displaced soul, pried from the seven to reside within bones, only to be finally damned to Ebrietas itself.
The spirit bore the name Mercaius, not too much unlike the one he had in his unlife.

To die fighting the eternal enemy was not enough for the disheveled soul, so he gathered the remnants of himself and set out within the stagnant realm of spirits. Through willpower and displays of savage brutality the black spirit dominated several lesser souls to be within his legion. His ultimate goal was to draw the sights of Aeriel herself onto this upbringing of souls, from there he hoped she would descend from the soulstream to quell this insurrection. While far fetched, the deranged spirit believed she could be bested and slain if pitted against a vast legion of these forsaken souls. During one occasion of his conscriptions he met a great horned spirit, after being revealed to be a maleficar Mercaius’ wrath broiled and he set himself as well his ramshackle legion against the horned fiend.

((Credit to ChrisCold))
Ebrietas

The uncanny chants and incantations progressed, urging louder and louder. Their tallow candles began to flicker, momentarily fading only to return. They had performed this rite a number of times, with only little nuances varying in between. A harsh gale rolled through the forests and over the occultists, and then utter silence. With a twitch and churn, the corpse within their circle begun to animate to some degree. Slithers of dark smog radiated from it, converging above the body to form some mass that could vaguely be described as humanoid. Inhuman cries and the occasional shrill sounded from it, wracked in agony from the seance. The ritualists’ questioning began.

However, the horned lord fielded a legion of his own, though numbering less than Mercaius, his forces were composed of souls far greater than the common rabble of Ebrietas. An apparition, gorged on perhaps hundreds, tore into the ranks as devilish fire burned dozens. Those that did not turncoat began to flee as even fewer remained in the strife. Mercaius’ forces were decimated, though not before the bitter soul struck a grave blow against the horned lord. As he peeled back amid the fray a small trinket was dropped. Mercaius managed to acquire the device before he too had to flee, the remnants of his legion crumbling.

The goal of dethroning the Archaengul had been destroyed alongside his forces. Now the demented spirit wandered for years furthermore, keeping to his own in the bleak wastes that is Ebrietas. The trinket he had plundered from the horned spirit began to vibrate and convulse as Mercaius neared a font of vague energies. Later, he would refer to these as rifts, tears, or waypoints, arbitrary places within Ebrietas in which a strong connection between the mortal realm and that of the damned was had. These waypoints sprout up from successive rituals from magi that attempt seances, vivification, or somehow understand how to forge a link between the two, and so on.

((credit to an unknown artist))

♪ ♫ ♪ ♫

After probing and prying at one of these waypoints the nature of the horned lord’s trinket was uncovered. By willing himself directly into one of these rifts, he was wracked with pure agony that threatened to destroy the soul. Nonetheless, he found himself in a new, unforeseen place. A dark attic littered with innumerable tomes, unlit candles, skulls, and other occult paraphernalia. It was abandoned, though realization soon came to the spirit regardless. This was a place of dark rituals, of blood offerings, and seances. Confusion turned to rage and he set to destroying the vilified place. An hour or two transpired, perhaps a little longer before the maddened spirit was torn back into Ebrietas as it is believed the trinket can only grant a brief amount of time back upon the plane of the living. In his wake laid the destroyed attic, barely anything at all was able to be scavenged when the ritualists returned to discover the violent mess.

Now he continues to roam the blasted lands, gravitating towards the rifts wherever they could be found, however sparse and far between. The soul finds some modicum of respite within this, traveling for unknown leagues only to enact a limited fraction of his anger upon those that try to tap into the realm of damned souls.

((Credit to benthedwarf))

Confused and agitated the practitioners elected to begin their seance once more, putting the blame on one of their own that was the least experienced. Something else dwelled within the adjacent forests, manifested from the abundance of otherworldly energies they used to vivify and summon forth a spirit from Ebrietas. Unsteadily, the ritual began to commence once more, straining the invokers. A bloodcurdling, inhuman scream broke out from the treeline of the clearing, prickling at their ears as they jarred to a halt. Warily they drew out their weapons, perhaps believing it to be some night beast in their panic. Following after the shrill, a hazy, black spirit clad in translucent armaments charged straight for the four. One of the cultists managed to strike at the demented soul, yet the mundane weaponry did seemingly nothing but draw the ire of it. A rusted blade raised high before smattering harshly upon him, again, again, and yet three times more, making the ritualist into a bloodied display as his compatriots were paralyzed in horror. Never before had they come across such a thing in their rituals, though finally, the spirit had met the practitioners which fiddled with the realm beyond their own at least a dozen times over. One managed to flee as the others fought for their lives, having not precaution, gold or blessed objects to truly injure or stave the enraged soul off. 

Several days later the sole cultists returned with a number of hired anomaly-hunters, armed to the teeth with gold and sanctified scripture in hopes of banishing, or outright killing the crazed spirit. Much to their dismay (as well as relief), the thing was nowhere in sight, or in the surrounding regions for that matter. Only a sickening display of unrestrained brutality was left in its wake. He was off, back within Ebrietas. The next rift was miles and miles away from the last, yet the thought of revenge, even if only for an hour, was enough to make him persevere in his long travels.

“Take precautions as well preparation when you conduct your rituals, my mystic, lest you summon the mad stalker instead.”

- Barrowlord Volkantir of the Synod

OOC Explanation:

Citations:

Small piece I wrote for fun, always down for feedback, questions, criticisms and so on.

MC Name:

         Augvstine

Character's Name:

         Siegwald

Character's Age:

         83

Character's Original Race (N/A if not applicable):

         High Elf

Transformed form:

         Eidola

Creator's MC Name:

         Gamma_byte and Sorcerio

Creator's RP Name:

         Vevodrok and Hecilnë

Briefly explain the lore behind this construct or creature:

Eidola also known as Paleknights, in short are a spirit placed into a suit of stone armor made possible by a ritual of Mysticism; the victim is killed, their soul being locked into a pillar or obelisk of stone which is coated in ectoplasm, known as a menhir, the slab of stone then forms the new body of armor. Due to the natural weight of stone and their large size, Paleknights can only move at a light jogging pace, maximum. Their strength mirrors that of a descendant in peak physical condition, including orcs. They possess a rough sense of touch and can only feel pain when meaningful damage is done to them, yet it is muted.

Knights generally act somberly, taking measures to avoid the living as they discomfort or even agitate the construct over time, likewise the company of Undead or other Mystic related beings put these knights at ease. These forlorn knights find respite through varying means, such as meditation, servitude, guarding something of importance, and so on. It is up to the knight in question to find what brings them happiness.They possess free will, yet they could be threatened because of their menhir, which binds their souls to this realm. If it is shattered, the Eidola will face a permanent death unless it is rebuilt. Due to a Paleknight's spectral nature they are susceptible to holy magic, lutaumancy, but not Aurum weaponry as the knights lack a 'proper' form for which the Aurum to strike into. With the property of stone, a warhammer, pickaxe, or other blunt weaponry are more effective against a Paleknight, as long the strikes are strong enough to shatter the stone plates. Should plates break, water will seep out, this acts akin to blood for the knight. If they lose half or more of their water then they will perish, reforming at their menhir as long as it is intact. Eidola can not practice magics.

If this construct or creature has some form of aesthetic choice, can you describe how they look? 

The appearance of an Eidola is humanoid, mimicking that of a mortal body, yet made of seemingly living stone, a statue. The appearance tends to reflect the soul of who is bound to the menhir, though this is not always the case. These stones can take tones of grey and pale shades of blue, green, or purple. These knights have a thin layer of water about their plates, giving it a dampness of some sort. They may not exceed nine feet in height, or go below four feet. These statues can be detailed or crude in form, or perhaps somewhere in-between. 

Do you have a magic(s) you are dropping due to this app? If so, link it:

         N/A

Do you agree to keep Story writers updated on the status of your magic app?:

         Yes

Do you understand that if this creature's lore is undergoing an activity trial and that trial fails, you will no longer be able to play this creature and will be forced to either revert the character back to its normal form (if it was a transformative type) or stop playing the character entirely (if it is an entirely new creature)?:

         Yes

Memey RP or using this CA for subpar villain/bandit RP can lead to your app being denied, even after acceptance. Please put "I understand" as your response once you have read this part and understand the consequences.

         I understand

Have you applied for this creature on this character before, and had it denied? If so, link the app:

         No

Why.

This lore doesn’t address any of the issues that the original lore had, for one.
If anything this only makes them stronger. Poison fangs lol

39 minutes ago, PettyDoesCrack said:

are u trying to promote some mlm like young living essential oils or noterra aka DoTerra?

What the absolute **** are you on about??

What RP have you had the most fun with on the server? Soldier, smith rp, etc etc, you get the idea. 
Group you enjoyed the most on the server?

Why did you and Jentos decide to try and write werewolf lore, especially considering the bad rep it has from the last iteration of “”werewolves.””

I like this. 

Pretty faithful to my original work, but adds some much needed clarifications and a few neat things here and there.
 

Nice work on the skins btw.

However I think this has a very, very big chance at just becoming what morghuuls became towards the end of the last gen of Necromancy. They were pumped out like some assembly line and most necros had very little, if any standard when it came to who played them. With something like this there isn’t any gate for entry which means everyone and anyone could play one. Devalues the meaning of being undead a fair bit when they are commonplace and will inevitably be accepted in some descendant-based communities.

MCname: Skylez1 

Character Name: Gael Severulya

Discord: Skylez#7187

Timezone: CST

8 ******* years, wow

Biggest IC accomplishment?

Anything you regret not doing on the server? Missed opportunity, etc.

What keeps you here, aka what drives you on to continue contributing/being staff on the server.

 

Missive on Phantoms

♬ ♪ ♫ ♪

((Credit to GW2))

[!]

A few of these missives are spread about varying settlements within Arcas, however not enough to be present in all. Each carries some minor nuances in its writing, as if they were all handwritten.

--+--

Hail. I write this as a warning, hopefully I can make up for some of my recent shortcomings and prevent the shedding of innocent blood. In short, phantoms such as gravens and ghosts are out in the wilds, unhindered and uncontrolled. They number a few dozen, roughly. These are not mindless necromantic reanimations, phantoms are capable of thought, of reason, and subsequently, unreason.

With the powers vested in me I had tried to keep them in check, however my tutelage was incomplete and the foundation that tended to these undead was destroyed years ago by turncoats. Overtime my phantasma grew restless and rebellious, a number of their own fell in battle when they aided me to repel barbarians from the far north - perhaps that is when they began to question me.

Last Saint’s week I had met with an old compatriot of mine. During our exchange we were ambushed by a handful of my phantasma. If not for the aid of my comrade, I would have likely been enslaved and forced to make more phantoms, or outright killed. I returned to my stead to find the rest of them gone.

Currently, their goals and motives are unknown. I know they wish for my death, though I am not sure who else they are willing to harm. I am beginning to get a small group together in hopes of putting down these phantoms before they can cause genuine trouble or grief.

((Credit to Jake Bullock))

No man or woman can truly control the likes of demonkin or undead, many have tried in the past, and many will try in the future. Do not let others convince you otherwise.

Keep your gold close,

Burn those with a tainted mind,

GOD preserve.

OOC:
Small eventline to come soon, working with an ET based on encounters that happened IRP.
More details soon.

Pathfinder
Act II: Hellfire and Brimstone

♬ ♪ ♫ ♪

((Credit to David Chodrishvili))

The shunter struggled to get his breath as he braced on a knee, wobbling as coughs and airy rasps rattled through him. The incantation worked, without a doubt, there he was, a stranger in a strange world. After the aged mechanic collected himself, he looked out to survey the foreign, fiery landscape. He was on a rocky plateau, charred and withered trees dotted the scene, along with ruined structures; he believed a settlement of some sort lingered not to far from his plateau, or rather the remnants of one.

Realization soon came to the foreigner: the foul winged beasts that he could barely spot in the far distance, the faint, malformed figures on the hillsides, the hellscape he found himself in, it was all cruel irony. For a man so once involved with the occult, to now be sent to this twisted realm. An unintentional laugh left him at this, perhaps to cope with the unsettling fate that was placed upon him. A hand reached around for the modified slurbow on his back, surveying the mechanism briefly as he took to a stand. Breathing in harshly he set out in an unhurried, yet cautious pace, visored view trailing from left and then right in a gradual search. Soon he descended down the plateau, shifting and weaving down the incline that led towards the ruined place.

As he neared he could make out the nature of the crumbled buildings, human architecture it appeared. How odd, he thought, to have a hamlet here of all places, in a malign realm of demonkind: Inferni.

“Raku kalkoth!” 

The shouted words forced him to veer. A vile, black tongue that he vaguely remembered, yet caused him to grimace regardless. Not even seconds later and more pursuers announced themselves; the twisted barks and loud snarls of what he presumed to be zekul, lesser demonkin. He pulled aside, hunkering against what was once a cobbled wall. A hand fell to the side of his slurbow, grunting as he pulled back the small goat’s foot mechanism to pull the cord back within the barrel. A drawn bolt was quickly chambered, one without fletchings. The dreaded sounds of slurred Ilzakarn and feverish canines only closed in, reaching within a pouch at his side, a handful of caltrops were chucked where he believed his hunters would round the corner to meet him.

“Nirhk kalkoth kaaga!”

((Credit to Vladyslava))

He tenses at the spouted dialect, even if he did not fully understand whatever the hunter yelled. Kaevryn caught a glimpse of one of his pursuers, a dog-like thing with a charred hide and jagged bony protrusions along its body. It’s snout was dug in the ground near another destroyed building, no doubt trying to continue on his trail, the hunted presumed. The marksman shifts, propping the barrel against the ruined cobble. With a swift depression the bolt shoots off, digging hard into the inferni’s outstretched neck. It howls out before falling onto the charred ground with a whimper, black fluid flowing in the place of lifeblood. He dips back, already at work reloading the slurbow, gradually yielding back the lever that guided the cord within.

“DIIZM!”

A new cacophony of alarmed barks and black tongue erupt. Another four-legged zakul charges on as the machinist reloaded, rounding the corner before it came tumbling onto the ruined brickwork below, having rushed right into the caltrops laid earlier. It let out a short series of pained snarls and growls, though silenced as a sole came crashing down upon its skull, finishing off the impaired hound. Deeming his position compromised, he pushes on from there, sprinting for another ruined alcove to obscure himself as he pushes another bolt in the barrel.

The third demon-hound caught up in little time as the man pressed for cover, leaping over the ruined wall where he was once posted. A set of twisted teeth clamp down upon a boot, right at the lower calf. They prick at his skin underneath, staggering to a knee. His own teeth grit, the hound’s maw violently shaking to and from as the beast tried to wrangle the heavier man. Shakily, a hatchet was ripped from its holder as he awkwardly twisted to get a better view on the zakul. A wild swing was sent out for the thing’s head, connecting. With a throaty whine it fell aside, letting free its foreign quarry. As quickly as he came to, the loaded slurbow discharged, lodging its bolt within the cranium of the dazed hellhound. With a slight limp he pulled himself into cover, back pressed against the blackened stones that once made a home’s foundation. A hand went for the loader as the times before, even despite the clatter of heavy footfalls against the ground beyond.

((Credit to Isaac Belt))

A Zar’ei crashed into the crude wall, flinging cobble, debris, and Kaevryn aside. The one who corralled the hounds. He felt for the ground in his throbbing daze, disarmed of his slurbow. A deep bout of laughter emitted from the olog-sized demonspawn, as it seemed to simply watch the discombobulated foreigner scramble upon the ground. He managed to hoist himself up, spying his shooter a brief sprint away. Even still the horned Zar’ei just spectated as the man did so. It did not seem to move a muscle until the moment the weapon was within the invader’s hands. The hunter broke into a sprint, chasing after the armed man with its oversized polearm in tow. Sweat rolled down his face as he fumbled with the lever, jerking it back and forth, jammed from the earlier collison. Luckily, the demon missed his swipe, carving into the ground nearby right after the engineer flung himself aside to avoid the swing. Finally he yielded back the lever, the cord finding its grove with the distinct click. He looked up, trying to keep sight on the fiendish pursuer. It was turning back, closing the distance between the two in hurried strides rather than a full on charge. A shaky hand felt for another bolt, twitching as he slotted it into the chamber and lined the stock up to take aim. The projectile hit center mass, though it did not halt the Zar’ei in its tracks. A maddened houndmaster swung out, smashing the flat of his polearm into the side of his quarry.

His vision blurred after colliding into a destroyed foundation, sluggishly keeping sight on the encroaching demonspawn. A crude chain was pulled from it’s waist, and only an incoherent word was given instead of finishing off the foreign invader.

“Vorhz”

His vision gave way.

End of Act II, Act III coming soon.

Act I:

Pathfinder
Act I: Supply and Shunting

♬ ♪ ♫ ♪

((Credit to Ben Bryant))

Kaevryn found contentment in the craft. The wrench felt natural in his hand, like an extension of the body itself. The implement turned and twisted as the craftsman tightened a number of bolts to ensure the outermost plating of his craft would hold sufficiently. The aroma of burning incense filled the chamber, it helped to ease the mind and allow greater focus on the work at hand. The Ordinator of Garumdir finished his work. After settling the tool down, he took a number of minutes to lastly survey and inspect the inanimate guardian. This would be the last of his line, he told himself.

This was to be his great exodus, a chance to free the realms of mankind from another anomaly. The artificer was an outlier, something that lived yet did not belong among normalcy. He was old, but age still could not take him. It was here where he would depart, to shift through the greater cosmos and realms to perhaps find one anew, or one upon the throes of its destruction. The aged machinist had elected to let the universe decide his fate, however it would not be done here.

The three mechanical sentries watched as their craftsmen drew near, eventually entering the small enclave. He stops before moving past the small portcullis, turning on a heel to face the two swordsmen within the ruined entrance. A raspy cough slipped from him before delivering the final instruction:

“Do not permit any to enter this chamber, nor come near this structure - children of Garumdir.”

They listen, yet nothing comes from the machine-minded.

“Likewise, you are the bulwark of this place. Should otherworldly fiends rise from below, you three shall put the incursion down by any means, even destruction of this place.”

After a moment the portcullis bars the way, iron-tipped ends digging into the ground below.
 

“Blessed be the machine who furthers the will of Garumdir.”

He descends into the small chamber.

-<+>-

The contingency of his alchemical creation would be kept alive in another, a similar man, a compatriot of several aliases but of a good, struggler’s heart.

The craft of his machines was preserved within a number of past students, a cowled star-seeker, a bronze automaton, a wandering elf rescinding the void, and a few others.

There, within the dim chamber was where he would slip from this realm and into another. 

A simple sigil was inscribed into the newly laid floorboards, enigmatic and arcane in design. With a deep exhale he made on, accounting over everything that would be brought along with him; weapons, small tools, provisions, an old TAC mask given to him by the Denurem of Mordskov, and so on.

((Credit to Sam Kim))

It was not long after, the shunter sat within his circle and tended to the unlit candles that surrounded the perimeter at set intervals.

He began the incantation as the planar had instructed him. Vague energies propagated within the carved inscription, gradually filling the design in its entirety. Focus faltered to a strain at the whole ordeal, something foreign to him - he had sworn from the likes of magic years ago. Seeping out from the ritual’s circle, they push into the artificer from all sides.

He was gone.

The acrid scent of burning brimstone, the heat of the air.

((Credit to Philip Straub))

Judgement was given

End of Act I, Act II coming soon

={ OOC }=

MC NAME: Skylez1
DISCORD: Skylez#7187

TIMEZONE: CST

={ RP }=
NAME: Adelhardt of Endaen
AGE: Old enough
RACE: Human
NOTABLE SKILLS:

Veteran Reiter, joined in Calais, Axios.

- Cavalryman in the Battle of Jornheim Fields.

- Archer in the Battle of the Bloody Road.

- Cavalryman in the Battle of Rochdale.

- Breacher in the Siege of Vjorhelm.

- Two excursions into the damned city of Mordskov, along with the Manticore initiative.