Skylez

With Dardonas’ permission (done with LotC for awhile) I was allowed to reformat and edit this submission as I am also working upon Mysticism for the Lore Games. Can this be denied, please?

Name: Siegwald Belfroy IGN: Skylez1 Discord: Skylez#7187 Age: 25 Position of interest: Scribe

Name: Siegwald Race: Human Gender: Male Intent on joining (Temporary/Full time): Full time If temporary, how long do you intend to stay?: N/A If full time, do you agree to taking on all aspects of the monastic life? Yes, I do. Do you agree to follow the rules of the Monastery? Failure to do so will result in immediate eviction. Of course, they will be followed.

First. We need to hang out more often. I’ll be dropping by come November-ish when my leave hits. See you on Discord until then.

♫♪♫♪ Memory of the Dead ((Credit to myself)) A twisted soul walks an endless plane. Leagues upon leagues had been traversed thus far however no end was in sight to the pilgrimage across the realm of the forsaken. There were many there with him, of varying dimensions and demeanor. It was maddening, residing in a place where he was ultimately not meant to be in. More of the spirits had manifested in Ebrietaes over the coming years. This was natural, yet not at this rate. Spirits that were once taken and twisted into the cruelty of being Undead. Stalkers of both blade and spell, dreaded knights, revenants, statues of foreign rock, and furthermore. These things that once roamed the normal realms now linger in this cursed one. Perhaps some mass crusade had been called upon them, he ruminated. He felt pity for them, for none but the truly wicked should have to find home in Ebrietaes, such as the Horned Lord. He feels for the tattered, ruined shawl that was tight about his neck and shoulder. These dead could have been his brethren during his long past time as a knight-stalker. The Redshrouds which were lorded by Ipos. Yet now most were mindless, the remnants of their willpower tarnished shortly after coming to the plane. They were enemies now, the mindless dead that could not find reason or final respite but in battle. The shrouded spirit bears his weapon, as he had countless times before.

A mutant pens his close comrade over the abundance of twisted wildlife. @SourDough

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/etc, fail and can provide consequence to their failure, should an ST member make an event of it. Also can be made into a potential eventline for a lesser antagonist against dark mage types. - ♪ ♫ ♪ ♫ ((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)) The tortured spirit gave them their answers through tormented wails and cries. The occultists would seemingly never be satiated as question after question was forced upon the soul they dredged up. Without forewarning the candlelight died, though not a wind blew upon the forests or them. The sounds of the distant wildlife soon faded away in addition, but a stillness hung within the stagnant air that rank of blood and rotting flesh. Lastly, the vivified spirit receded, convulsing violently before its aura dissolved into mere dust. ♪ ♫ ♪ ♫ 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 Small piece I wrote for fun, always down for feedback, questions, criticisms and so on. Legend format:

“What the ****.” Says a disgruntled genestealer

Name: Siegwald Belfroy Race: Human Gender: Male Former Affiliations: None Former Titles: None Sect wishing to join: The Inquisitors ((OOC)) MC Name: Skylez1 Discord: Skylez#7187 Timezone: CST

GIVEN NAME: Adelhardt NOBILITY/GENTRY (Y/N): N NAME OF RECRUITER*: John Stefan USERNAME: Skylez1 DISCORD#: Skylez#7187

GIVEN NAME: Adelhardt of Endean NOBILITY/GENTRY (Y/N): N AGE: 34 DATE OF BIRTH (if known): I can not recall PLACE OF BIRTH (if known): Some hamlet in Axios RACE: Human ETHNICITY (Auvergnian, Illatian, etc.): Heartlandic PAST MILITARY/COMBAT EXPERIENCE (if any): - Veteran Reiter - Freelance work PAST LABOUR EXPERIENCE (if any): I understand the basics of smithing SIGNED NAME: Adelhardt of Endaen Discord: Skylez#7187 - I won’t be extremely active as I am active duty military, but I do play here and there in my free time.

-1 No Darkstalkers

- The Gwynonian metalworker tucked the cigarette between his lips. He did not weep in relief nor sorrow for the death of this kindred turned beast; the man did not see the deed occur before him, but he heard it. This blessed man left the scene, giving farewells to the pair that had accompanied him.

Bounty Completed

New notices soon dot the several bounty boards that were about the populated regions of Atlas. Wanted Raide “Butcher of Ulmsbottom” Ashes - Otherwise known as Raihan, a resilient man at his core. Raide is a lawless butcherer that is more than proficient in martial means. Something is not right with the oddfellow from his sheer capabilities alone which have been demonstrated several times over. He is unnatural, perhaps some form of undead or an alchemical mutant – bring your gold and silver. Raide bears distinct, malformed eyes that are a dead give away to all – his voice is unfittingly smooth, a contrast to his appearance. Payment upon proof of his death: Four thousand mina, as well armor and a weapon of one’s choice forged by Raymond aep Rhysten, owner of the Rhysten Smithy. Wanted for: - Assault of the Rhysten Smith, resulting in a broken arm and stolen weaponry. - Being a bloodthirsty, deranged brigand – a threat to the well being of all. - Accounts of slaughter and incurring terror within Sutica and the surrounding provinces. - Enslavement of free folk. - Being an unnatural blight to this continent. Known location(s) - A camp within surrounding outskirts of Sutica, though he is likely long gone by now. Contact Raymond aep Rhysten within Carolustadt for further information and leads. May Owyn guide your righteous blades, Godspeed.

Rhysten Smithy Raymond of Rhysten, Owner Klara Amsel, Aide - After multiple years of successful business within the Carolustadt, the Capital of Man, Rhysten Smithy seeks to expand its growing enterprise. The location from which we base ourselves now is beginning to become a hindrance to the sheer amount of orders and work we wish to carry out as a business. Because of this we seek another location that can properly accommodate our increasing needs- yet thus far our efforts to get in touch with a Steward have been in vain. After this current wave of orders we will not be taking any further until a solution is seen to. While the Rhysten Smithy wishes to stay within Carolustadt, and are willing to pay one-thousand (1k) to the upwards of two-thousand mina (2k) for a suitable location that meets our needs, other cities may be taken into consideration if they are populous enough. Contact Raymond aep Rhysten (Skylez1) in person or by letter for potential enquiries. (Discord – Skylez#7187)

Application For Foreign Service Officer: ((MCName)): Skylez1 ((Discord)): Skylez#7187 Name: Raymond aep Rhysten Age: Twenty Five Race: Human Experience & Skills: A man of refined posture and tongue, though one that can easily sympathize with the common folk- I am a craftsman. Reason applying: In order to serve the Imperium beyond the scope in which I do so currently. Ave humanity.

Rhysten Smithy Raymond of Rhysten, owner. Klara Amsel, employee. - In the coming days new sounds soon sounds ring out from within the Capital of Man. The clatter of metal upon metal, the sizzle of a quenched project. A new craftsman took to his work within the capital, a smith of some foreign, largely unknown practices. Worker of both metal and beast. Hailing from the northern reaches of Gwynon, Aeldin, Raymond and brother, Vincent, made way to Atlas years ago in order to further refine their craft as well make an earnest living. Situated now within the Capital of Man, Carolustadt. The smithy is located on Owyn lane. General Pricing: Pricing can be negotiated as sometimes materials are more in the need than coin. Members of the Legion will be given a discount of 20%. Metals (Mina per ingot used): Ferrum - 150 The most basic of metals utilized by the Rhysten Smithy. Steel - 200 A proper alloy for proper arms and armor, pieces constructed of this refined metal is sure to last with proper care and maintenance. Aurum - 200 A relatively soft metal only truly viable as a means of ornamentation. Armaments of only Aurum are sure to falter and break from even little use. Slayer Steel - 300 An alloy suited for the likes of hunting the supernatural. Unlike Aurum, Slayer Steel sports a durability that can be likened to tempered Ferrum. Other specialized alloy - Varying Imbued Properties: Utilizing the Aeldin-based techniques of beastsmithing certain properties can be imbued onto metals during creation. Varies on availability and property in question. Finishes: Drakesmithing - complimentary A trademark of Gwynon, drakesmithing revolves around heating the tempered metal in question at extremely high temperatures for an elongated period as well some other intricacies. Drakesmithed metal appears as though the fires themselves have imprinted onto the piece, producing flame-like hues. An example of Rhysten weaponry- Finished works from the Rhysten Smithy can be identified by either a stamp into the leather grip of weaponry or a small engravement upon the metal of armor. Both simply read ‘Rhy’. (Armor orders will likely come with their MC skin representations, should time permit to make them) Orders can be placed via letter, or in person. Stop by to learn about our full stock. For any queries contact; Raymond (Skylez1) or Klara (Celebear). Discord: Skylez#7187

A few small notices dot the various boards and posts of populous settlements Well met, those of Atlas. I simply come to you as a seasoned soldier of conflicts past, looking for lodgings and perhaps a few coins. I can serve as a simple soldier, bodyguard, instructor, or whatever is desired. Below is a small summary of my martial experiences, pen a letter or leave one upon this notice- I’ll check back soon enough. 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. Sol guide, Adelhardt of Endaen OOC: Looking to get back into the server and do something mainly rp-wise, don’t mind a good clickin’ here and there. Give me a shout here or on discord, I don’t mind.