hotbox_monk

The Doomforged, Rhaezaiil, squinted as he attempted to digest and comprehend the warrant. The brash cry was apparent and made clear as day. Such a wronging upon The King's Hand would be met in return harshly, he thought to himself. If the Lord Justiciar sought to be cordial with his peer and fellow Lord and requested a court summons, Rhaezaiil would have been there before the clock struck the time. Though, this 'warrant' is blatant disrespect to himself and his Clan, for defaming him only further burdens his family with the sins of a forefather. Rhaezaiil sighed, but thereafter soon chuckled tiredly as he was met with the realization that The High Prophet and His faithful to The Pantheon did not sign off upon the labeling and utilization of the term, 'Heretic'. He paused for a moment and began to write title his grudge upon the would-be lord, Falk. -=X=- He dreamt of ripping the beard from Falk's flesh that night. Sanguine and crimson was the blood that splattered so vividly. A bellowing Rhaezaiil reveled in celebration with the beard clutched within his grasp. He awoke. He smiled.

As an ex member of the community as well I really think what you wrote here is rlly dope and will give the Azdrazi more of a fighting chance to actually be the dragons they are meant to personify. +1

Wicked +1

Narses de Sola, the descendent of Solaris Chivay, set an azure-like gaze upon the Loc Werin expanse. Ruminations of a future home manifested thoughts which pressed to his mind. There was much to be done and it would be in the name of Godan and The Good King Frederick the First that it would be accomplished.

Was just my own take based off of a concept first proposed and authored by Benboboy. Setherien had a way for corruption rather uniquely actually including converting thanhic crystals into blood crystals because he himself was a master blood mage if i remember correctly. But yeah I just wanted to try my hand at lore and I'm just thankful to have recieved the feedback I have. :)

Some wicked witch would cackle maliciously as two glacial palms clasped together. The wretched maiden reveled upon such news, singing ancient hymns which seemingly would scratch at the ears of those unfortunate to have listened.

Everyone refresh your page, the formatting has been amended slightly. Ty :) <3

GORLOTH The Gorloth Staff and The Gorloth [A Dour Watch Lancer being strangled at the hand of A Gorloth] “Bestow unto us as Setherien once had, return the Gorloth to the fray.” ~The Brightiron Prince says to Azdromoth in his Court of Fire. The Gorloth; A forlorn abomination which is remnants of a bygone time where abyssal sorceries and dark magic reigned with absolute malevolence which strangled the hope from the hearts of many. The Dark Lieutenants of Setherien wielded the wretched tool which had come to be known as The Gorloth Staff. The only device of its kind to hold dominion over the corrupted golems of yore. It was said that the sorceries in which these atrocities were bound to were achieved by a group of Aegisian blood mages enlisted by the benevolence of Setherien even before that of their Asulonian counterpart. It is said black tendrils which drilled and writhed between the joints of the Gorloth could be seen as a graceless bastardization of the draconic creatures their life derived from. It does not matter if the genus is harvested from a Dragaar or a hundred snakes, the end result remains constant. [Promiiitheon, The First Gorloth.] “The **** is a Gorloth?” ~Draakopf to Kalgrimmor ‘pon the eve of his ascension. A Gorloth is essentially a Golem corrupted through the means of blood magick borne from a series of intrepid rituals which had been based upon the premise of corrupting inert or active Golem cores. The Dark lieutenants of Setherien were once said to have scrawled great symbols and pentagrams onto the crust of our very earth. Rituals would have taken place on a grandiose scale of which would require the participation of the many simultaneously; to warp and mend the draconian genus into that of the Gorloth Staff would be the purpose. Only do those daring and/or foolish enough to mayhaps manifest some eldritch terror, use the ritual to conjore a construct of their own, though it is not unheard of. Such times went by and had long been forgotten until the Black Titan, Azdromoth set his smouldering gaze upon that of two Dwed. A pair of visages wrought of malice and greed glared back unto the sublime First-Born who he himself had been a conjuror of malevolent sorceries. A deal was devised and the Arch-Wyrm knew the mortal spawn would once again wreak havoc upon the realm. A world he had wished so badly to be rid of Order so that Chaos may ensue and bring about an Age of Fire. And so, they would enact the next several decades as harbingers of the wyrm’s wroth and in return the ancient knowledge, once wielded by Aegisian blood mages, was retrieved from His lexicon and bestowed upon the two. The Gorloth Staff acts as the source of power and sentience to the Gorloth itself in tandem with the Lexicon. One with naught the other, simply does not work. In order to create a staff one must first properly go about corrupting a golem’s core which would then be transmogrified into a newfound Lexicon . The process of which is no easy feat and will serve as a test to Man’s willingness to serve The Dark. [Archetypal blood mages during the dawn of the First Age bringing to life Promiiitheon.] The Gorloth Staff In a bid to trounce the mystical Dwarven Golemancers of times bygone, it was Setherien who ultimately succeeded in recreating a dauntless comparison of the Stone Men. Through a series of malefic alchemical amalgamations of the dark arts did the Sun Swallower birth anew perverse, but yet profound incarnation of corruption. It was His Dark Lieutenants who would hoist these mighty sceptres wrought of draconian corruption and charge forth unto battle behind the ranks of their Gorloth. There may only be one particular staff per Gorloth and should the the staff be compromised in any sort of way, The Gorloth will cease to function as it had. Rendering itself lifeless and rid of sentience should The Gorloth Staff be destroyed and or disposed of by the means of breaking and or burning, etc. The Staff itself is capable due to the malefic magic imbued within to corrupt any existing Golem into a Gorloth. Such a process might define the will and ability to persevere of the one who wields The Staff, as they will have to formulate and conceptualise a strategy to subdue and corrupt the Golem over the span of time it takes for it to become a Gorloth. The initial core that resides within a Golem, once tainted by The Staff, will become abyssal and black as the thanhium turns to that of a Lexicon. The core, once azure and radiant, would soon be rendered unto a tool of Setherien’s device; The Lexicon would serve the wielder of The Gorloth Staff and the Gorloth itself. The Lexicon The sublime Gorloth staff and its ability to corrupt and change serves as a sort of reiteration to Setherien’s past tendencies whereas the Sun Swallower himself in times of old would transmute thanhic crystals into that of blood crystals. Such is reminiscent in the mystery that is The Lexicon. To each is their own and may one lead to an alternate rumination; Each staff is privy to what lain within their respective Gorloth’s ‘mind’. Behaviour The Gorloth is stricken with dread and sorrow as it undergoes a drastic change in its programming, essentially. Oftentimes faces will appear to surface within the stygian tendrils that writhe and contort within the construct which seemingly would call out to those free on the other side. Such an effect can be an umbrage to the Gorloth and its thoughts, but dread is in its nature and it is born to be a harbinger of such. Servitude is the nature of this construct, but yet within the depths of its own ruminations, permitted by the black magick its wrought of; thoughts of betrayal and deceit linger and fester. To wield a Gorloth Staff is to forever be watchful of your back and the One you so daringly command. The Gorloth is often going to ask questions and seem inquisitive, though even if believed by their master, this is a mere flaw in their almost perfect design. Though they will never truly retain the understanding of what it is they ask, they will always persist to attempt to understand. Perhaps a reminiscence of the genus used in their creation or perhaps a flaw, but one may never know truly. Appearance The Gorloth may stand up to (8ft) at max unless a Greater Gorloth is constructed, which itself is left up to the imagination of the Creator. Inherently it is by the hand of the progenitor who would sculpt these Gorloths into whichever image they so desired. These archetypal masons were that of a malignant order and it would be their very own horrific thoughts in which their creations held reflection. Often times it is existing Golems who are corrupted then turned to Gorloths so by nature of the dark magikk lain deep within the staff, interpreted only by one divine or omniscient, then it is only the stygian tendrils that manifest that would change any apparent aesthetic otherwise. The application of igniting embers and creating heat distortions around ones person is permitted. Abilities Ignite Flame [Combative] The Gorloth possesses the capability to ignite or extinguish flame with its palm/fist or it may en wreathe its head in a crown of flame. Anything further is not permitted. If one wishes the ability to en wreathe their blade and or armament in flame they must specify such in a MArt. A Gorloth may often times use this ability to assist their master in starting fires whilst on wayward adventures in lands remote. This ability requires 1 emote to cast and lasts for 10 emotes. Greater Gorloth [MArt Only] The possibilities and ranges are simply left up to the imagination of the one submitting the artefact Gorloth. Though, it is encouraged by the lore holder for the sake of roleplay that if such an artefact be submitted, that substantial roleplay has gone into the creation of such a construct. The Creation Ritual The creation ritual itself serves as a pinnacle to blood magic invention for the success achieved can only be looked upon in awe as one may wonder what sort of divine intervention would look to create such a monstrosity. Naught it was, for Man lay waste to any claim that He is not able to persevere through sheer will and with the genus of dragonkin and or anything descending from the Slumbering God, all the way down to a snake; Let there be life from the blood from Setherien, Child of Knowledge itself. Upon creating a circle with the use of the following runes to reflect its unique commanding power; Life and Binding, alongside that of the symbol for Power itself. Without some sort of genus derived from a creature with relation to Setherien the ritual will falter. This means that even an abundance of snakes carefully collected and treated to be extracted of their genus could serve as a supplement for the ritual. In fact it is not uncommon for those who wield Gorloth Staffs to carry with them in fact serpents! Often not venomous, but still such a detail is a rather fascinating indication of the willpower these Gorloth Warlocks possess. Albeit this would inherently serve as the foundations of creation for the invention pioneered by Setherien and his ancient cabal of Aegisian blood mages. REDLINES Appearance/Durability/Weakness Redlines: CREDITS hotbox_monk/hotboxYSL: Writer @z3m0s: For telling me about the lore and it’s history and for being the reason I wrote this lore today. Thanks for being the homie. @Formenost: In depth consultation and moral support @Sorcerio: In depth consultation and moral support https://www.lordofthecraft.net/forums/topic/202370-%E2%9C%93-magic-lore-blood-magic/

A certain intrepid beast bore a gaze wrought of malice and deprivation and set it 'pon that of the domain in which the Academy had lain. Thoughts of serpent flesh participated in company with his ruminations.

THE END A Tale of Draakopf Doomforged; The Bane of Urguan [Draakopf standing beside Azdromoth before The Father took flight.] “From stone to scale, my wings are torn, A song of death do I sing. A curse to fear, a rite to mourn, Love not the pain I bring. Splendor to dust, my soul forlorn, We are your fallen kings. But now we die, to be reborn, When Aenguls clip our wings.” The Book of Dragons - Era Unknown The age of the Dragon had finally ended within Urguan as the blades of The Brightiron Prince came to clash with that of The Grand King’s own. . . Such a fate had been decided by The God’s many moons before and it would be they who were so absolute in their omniscience as the bore witness to The Ashen One’s destined death. [Draakopf faces down Bakir before their swords cross one final time.] “I am ash. To ash I will return.” -Draakopf Brightiron As Ebrietas incandescence shone ‘pon that of Kal’Darakaan and its humble folk, so too did a wretched force stir in the dank caverns of Urguan’s under-realm. . . Eyes like embers smouldering with a certain fury within the shadows conjured a feeling in the air that night. Foreordained by the dragon himself, The King, The Prophet and He, The Dragon would be intertwined in their fates. And so, both dark dwarves of Azdromoth would set out on their hunt for the Goldmask, but alas it would be the Scion of Yemekar who would instead meet the wrath of Draakopf Doomforged. The sound of thunder erupted within the Hall of Fire and a stygian steed rendered sooner than expected into their line of sight. . . Unbeknownst to Norli’s faithful servant it was his final moments of life for soon did Bloodbane cleave his head from his shoulders. Blood runneth through the streets and thy Prophet had been sundered to the depths of Kal’Darakaan by the vehemence of Draakopf Doomforged. Though, had it not been for the Hero, Bakir ‘Orcs Blood’ Ireheart so too would have Norli draw his last breath at the hand of The Dragon. And so, as The King and The Herald sundered from the falls in a blaze of glory it would be the Gods with which their fate had lain. Lifelessly did Draakopf’s corpse recoil upon the rocks below. . . Yet, A King arose; The Hero of Urguan was this monarch whomst had seemingly given his life to vanquish the Black Scourge of Urguan. And as he stood, so too would he loft the Sacred Spear of Draakopf Brightiron triumphantly. . . The Dragon had been slain. [A litany of scattered historical texts recovered by Draakopf during The Herald King’s search for draconic artifice.] [Such texts would have been left to Brankhyn Doomforged and solely him, so the following is IRP knowledge only.] “It was with great ardor that He (Azdromoth) brought his gaze down unto the creature that was scorned… The child, once a man, had been born again in the embers of the Nameless One, urged now to create more progeny for the Black Titan. A gift granted to Man under the fabled banner of Horen, a gift squandered - falling into disuse with the coming of the decrepit Eldari. To make things right, the firstborn of the Titan’s progeny wrought his powerful knuckles around her horns with fury, shattering them like handlebars and casting the former Elf Giantess to the ground with a forceful heave of his arms. Azdromoth basked in the glory of the triumph; Man had overcome the Eldari, and had proven the will of the Nephilim to be resolute.” The Book of Epochs “To my grandson.”

OKAY POP OFF! WOWOWOWOW, THE IMAGINATION IN THIS PIECE LOOKS WONDERFUL! ABOUT TO DELVE INTO THE LORE!

WELL DONE!

A Dark Dwarf smiles the Sun's smile.

SOLA Journal by, Adrianus de Sola Adrianus de Sola, a lowly cupbearer to his uncle Titus de Sola, the marshal of Oren. It was during the height of the Duke’s War did Adrian ascend to that of a Lancer alongside that of his cousin Augustus thereafter a rigorous upbringing. His uncle had beat the strength of a stallion into the Man since he was a boy as this was the de Sola way. “No room for cravens and cowardice, Adrian.” He would remark with a courageous and stern tone. There was none other like my uncle Titus, for all who stood in his way soon sequestered within his shadow. I still remember the howling cries of my fellow Man as we scaled the Castle Barrowyk’s Walls. The feeling of the wind ‘pon my face as we neared victory shall never be matched. The triumphant roar of Man and his fellow Man, like thunder in the Heavens. “The Weak should Fear the Strong.” -Titus de Sola A forlorn and forsaken descendent of Sola would find his way home once more; from lands Far East did this Man hail. His ancestors had written of Kingdoms of Men rivalled by none and it was he who would take sail ‘pon the High Seas in search of an ancient birthright. Nearing the age of maturity it was the boy’s father who had realised his potential shant be wasted toiling in the rice fields and on his fifteenth birthday; he gifted him Adrianus’ journal. It was to be his Destiny, but first he had to survive the journey.

KHAZUR DOR’THRUMM Hall of the Doom Lords The birds sang and the bells toll as the town criers cried of The Doomforged and their newfound home within the valley of Kal’Darakaan. Khazur Dor’Thrumm; a fortress coveted by the Dorkadrel which had been designed and constructed by the sublime Khenarlum Doomforged. It had been almost a century now and the architect’s masterpiece had finally been completed and chiselled into the very mountains in which Urguan bore it’s capital. The Long Wait had finally ceased when Rhaezaiil led his kin unto the halls of doom; a new chapter beginning as the last Dwed with a smouldering gaze crossed the threshold into their new home. “Home is not within the ire of the earth, but rather the hearts of your kin. For, haven may always be sought with Blood.” -A Friendly Doomforged It is with great pleasure that the Elder Clan Doomforged of The Grand Kindgom of Urguan, hereby formally invite all those ‘pon the list below to Our Hall in celebration of this grandiose achievement. The Grand King, Bakir Ireheart and his faithful subjects. The Good King, Frederick I and his faithful subjects. The Noble King Sigismund III of Haense and his faithful subjects of the North. The Blood Rex Borok and his faithful horde. The High Princess of Celia’Nor and her faithful subjects. The High Prince of Elvendom and his faithful subjects. The Sohaer of Haelunor and his faithful subjects. The King of Norland and his faithful subjects. The Honourable Halflings and their faithful folk. “A Grand Feast, for a Grand Hall. Come one, come all. Let the Sons o’ Doom serve you all. For tonight we revel in the image of triumph and splendour. . .” Signed, Lord Rhaezaiil Doomforged.

How did i even get here? Oh the worms!

THE DRAGONS CURSE Recorded & Journaled by, The Brightiron Prince Asioth; A rigorous test of mind, body and soul one must surmount before reaching their enlightenment. Whilst in servitude to The Arch-Drakaar one finds themselves eternally in pursuit of his likeness. To be Almighty, To be Triumphant, To reap the fields of Splendour. A mortal is not frugal in their efforts to achieve Asioth, for then they are privy to their questioning of existence. “As the once great Setherien tried to swallow the Sun; so too shall we swallow the earth. An earth that belongs to us, an earth that has been conquered and stolen from us.” The Book of Epochs It was not long after a mortal’s branding of Azdromoth’s mark did he begin to ruminate the scope of Asioth. The mortal, blinded by greed for gold and jewels lain deep within the realm, hadn't understood that this curse would inevitably be His Asioth and His Folly. The mortal sought yet did not find. Through all his triumph and all his glory he could not sunder the aching thought from his mind. If the Obsidian Throne was not meant to be His, then was his existence merely to fulfil a Destined Death whilst in servitude of The Great Titan? The mortal cast a smouldering gaze to his brethren who no longer bore Him as their ilk. The mortal made way to swallow the earth; The path had been alit and all seemed foreordained. Yet it would be the mercy of Him and His Kin that would serve as folly to the mortal’s campaign. Struck from the heavens, Fallen was He. Yet, the ember gaze of his ashen visage did not fade and the pursuit of Asioth did not sequester. The earth endured, unswallowed. . . But, The Sun was Broken. Much like the archetypal Dragonkin of yore, it is in the image of Our Father that we achieve Asioth whilst faring the Auric Path and all its encapsulating calamity. Clung to life amidst rumination atop The Sage’s Seat is where I learnt, Dear Reader. Exalted was I; to have conquered the tundras treachery and seek haven beneath the tree. Sublime was I; to have withstood the suffering offered solely by the frigid Night. Since the mortal descended that fateful night it was He whom was rivalled by none; And in the image of The First-Born, it was He whom served as a weapon to bring about Ruin. So that Chaos may trounce Order. Derived from The Book of Asioth “Fire of Exaltation” “For First-Born, his royal kin climbed the bright heavens, and brought him the sparks of starry grandeur held there. Loving, he lapped up the red waters of their muse, and raised them upon a throne of shining thunder. In turn they filled his vessel with timeless insight, and wrote his name upon the book of Asioth. Like the golden sun was above the misty weald, a thousand lives were warmed by but a single source. Asioth held the power beyond all power. Each was raised above his brothers: exaltation” Derived from The Book of Asioth “Vessel of Sublimity” “For First-Born, his loving kin plumb the darkest depths, and give him the seeds of earthly beauty held there. Being, they tear down the white branches of his cage, and put upon him a crown of humming crystal. In turn he lights their fires with lively knowledge, and seats them all beneath the tree of Asioth. Like the silver moon is within the tossing sea, a thousand lights reflect from but a single source. Asioth reveals the subtle and hides the known. Each is found within his brothers: sublimity.”

DOOMFORGED TRADING & SMITHING CO. The Doomforged Trading & Smithing Co. has been a corporation of impeccable renown. The origins of which could be traced back to The Grand Kingdom of Urguan’s inception a millennia ago. When you order from Doom Co. it isn’t only us who are winning, but you the satisfied customer will be triumphant when you go home with one of our expertly crafted products. Armaments and Metals; What Metals Can You Work? Star Steel Boom Steel Azhl Steel Thanhic Steel Slayer Steel Carbarum What Sort of Armaments Do You Craft? Daggers Swords, Short, Long, Bastard and Great Axes, Pole-Arms and Spears Chainmail, Platemail, Gambeson, and Scalemail. Round Shields, Tower Shields and Kite Shields ~ ~ ~ ~ Alchemical and General Goods; What Sort of Potions Can You Make? Luminosity Potion Flash Powder Air Purifier Smoke Whispers Will o’ Bottle Thornskin Salve Tanglefoot Potion Blasting Potion Potion of Acuity Water Breathing Potion Cat’s Eye Potion Heat Sight Potion Arcana Flow Land’s Nurture Solidarity Unction Dragon’s Breath Arctic Mists Medical Packs Owned and managed by Clan Doomforged. The Doom Co. has established its first location within the Main Square of Haelunor. Come in person to place an order or send inquiries via post. Prices are negotiable and bartering is welcomed! Currently In Search Of: Hired Muscle Secretary Treasurer Architects Looking for an apprenticeship in steel smithing or the alchemical arts? Seek out The Doomforged for more information! Looking for CANNONS? Seek out The Doomforged for more information! CANNONS come in many variations, including the Doomforged Classic, SSWF DOOM BLASTER! (Star-Steel War Forged) (OOC) PM hotbox_monk#8587 if you wish to place an order, inquire about apprenticeship and or are just looking to come by the shop for some based RP!

A Dragon, He Is A mortal born from the ashes to lead his ashen kin unto a new world. Ushered in only by He, The Arch-Wyrm Azdromoth. The mortal walks as a dragon, talks as a dragon and fights as a dragon. A Dragon, He is. Aurelect from The Book of Asioth; “Fire of Splendor” First-Born wreathed his household in a sublime beauty; from empty silence, a fallen prince hated them. An adversary soared from his silent limbo, pledging First-Born glory greater than Asioth. Thus First-Born conquered nations with his glowing voice; Asioth was the noble grandeur of his throne. Full of vengeance, royal subjects turned against him, and their silver seals held him in the darkest depths. In limbo, First-Born clove the fire from her source, the adversary of the fallen prince: splendor. Aurelect from The Book of Asioth; “Vessel of Triumph” First-Born guards his people with a noble grandeur, from silent limbo, a fallen prince envies them. An adversary broods in his empty silence, vowing First-Born vengeance greater than Asioth Thus First-Born watches subjects with his blazing eyes; Asioth is the sublime beauty of their crowns. Full of glory, loving nations bow before him, and their golden bands hold him in the bright heavens. In silence, First-Born shines between them all like light, the adversary of the fallen prince: triumph. It was the eve of Elvenesse’ demise and Draakopf found himself at the Sage’s Seat. There, he sat and remained dormant in silent prayer to The Firstborn. For, as long as his faith held true, so too would his blade fell its foe. And so, the mortal Dwarf of Urir’s ilk took stride and soon saw the walls of the elven capital come into sight. It was swift. . . The blue sky turned black. . . It was as if the Gods themselves had struck the Sun from the very sky above. Azdromoth’s shadow had been cast from each end of the continent and his smouldering gaze set upon that of the city below. Hellfire, or was it Dragonsfire? Fire like this kind Draakopf had never witnessed before. These flames burned black and sapped the very life from those who found themselves engulfed within. Even this inquisitor of The Arch-Wyrm found the carnage overwhelming. With each turn he took he was surrounded by his bredgren clashing against the united descendent armies. Soon, Draakopf was surrounded and as descendents clashed, so too did the forces Unseen. A great beam of celestial origin came thundering down from the sky, narrowly missing Azdromoth. Whomst remained breathing stygian flames from his gargantuas maw which was rivalled by none. Draakopf did not stay to watch the smoke clear and the ash settle. Azdromoth was the force of Triumph and it was The Firstborn who was Triumphant. Dormant deep within the earth is where the mortal dwarf of ash remained. . . Until the Sun Broke. Triumph was Azdromoth’s, rivalled by none, envious are they.

A child o’ Azdromoth looked out to the Heralds o’ His with the missive clenched within his ashen grasp. “The fate of Sunbreak and its craven sunlit cult has been foreordained. . . From ash we were born, to ash we return. . . And return them to ash I shall do.”

Oz'Arhk'Ram grimaces hideously as his beast-like gaze narrows toward the missive. Barely finding success in deciphering its contents he would stomp ferociously, like a bull preparing to charge. He offered only a spat from his blood-stricken maw "Nub recognoize shite." He bellows forth before offering a wailing howl in disgust.