_Sug

(Reserved)

Thalon Nullivari, Okarir'tir of the Silver Council and Mal'onn to one Niënor Nullivari, offers a smile and a nod at the writings of his sister.

-=oOo=- "For Those Reborn, Now Champions; Do We Celebrate Reunion With the Eternal Flame" -=oOo=- A depiction of the Scorched Herald patrolling the countryside after pilgrimage to a shrine of the Titan. Circa. 10th of the First Seed in the Year 28 of the Second Age. _______________________________________________________________________________________________________ [!] Whilst licks of the cool costal breeze so caused the flaming inferno that spewed forth from the Crown of Maerec which sat upon the new successor of his title; The Scorched Herald, his smoldering gaze and inferno that burst forth with every breath did illuminate the ever darkening area about his figure as the sun began to set over the Silver-City State. For it was upon this day that his brother Serinath did return to the fold, rejoin those whom he delved into the hellscape of the firelands for but mere words with the Titan, and celebrate in jubilee as he had found his favor with Azdromoth once more. Beneath his ever blazing helm, did the Scorched force a smile from half-melted maw upon hearing the news. It was his first time walking in months, and he took venture to the shrine that venerated the Titan upon the island in order to offer prayers for the safe return of the conglomerate back home after their hunt and journey. With a nod and a deep inhale did the Herald of Scorch release actions in happiness as Serinath had returned, fulfilled his promise, and strengthened the ranks of the dragonkin.

__________________________________________________________________ Penned. Circa. 6th of Snow’s Maiden in the Year 28 of the Second Age [!] A depiction of the Scorched Herald Maerec’s Armor on his successor. Circa. 9th of Snow’s Maiden in the Year 28 of the Second Age __________________________________________________________________ Desolate was the landscape below a lone quartz tower so shrouded in ash and soot, for the air was crisp to the taste and inferno claimed domain over all the eye could see within the Firelands. There, stood six individuals stern and postured. One a young magus of Haelun’or and the others servants of the Great Titan, all within armored garb and supplies that covered their persons be it through pack or belt, they were prepared for what laid ahead. Within the center of the tower sat a lone book on a pedestal awaiting for the group to discover what secrets laid ahead within its pages. Words were shared and lessons granted before their venture into the unknown, and so did the fraternity of men conclude their dialogue and move forth to touch the leather bound book before them, one by one. Each was thereafter absorbed into the book, one after another they dissipated into ash and nothingness until the final member of the party was pulled forth from the mortal plane into a deep cavernous area smoldering with infernal rage. Scorched. -=oOo=- Once in the different realm, the group pushed forth as they hopped over lagoons of lava and made it to the other side relatively untouched due to their alchemically assisted gear. Soon then did the group ambush a patrol of atronachs which meandered throughout the long halls of wherever they found themselves, dungeon or perhaps home of something far greater, who was to say for the group could not. Then, did the Herald find himself and his companions at arms against powerful mages who released chains of flame that moved akin to serpents over the cobblestone beneath their boots. His fellow brother, one of the Human lands, did croak forth his vocal ability to shield himself from the attack yet it was too late as the flaming trail made its way towards his person. The Herald of Helinathe then moved to slam his shield in the way and take the force of the attack so that his brother could maintain his health and status, and so did the flames spread forth across his shield and latch to his person, burning away at and melting the flesh beneath his armor. The first of many wounds to come. The flames had burnt away at the flesh on his chest, sliding under the gap in the plate of his arm and torso, searing the skin and rendering it asunder to bleed and froth forth bodily fluids that so desperately sought to fight off the hot air of the chasm from the skin. Scorched. -=oOo=- Next did this odd grouping delve deeper descending down through halls full of traps and false ends which attempted to lead them to their doom and the eternal bliss thereafter. Dawned on did time progress whilst the grouping moved into a room full of dusty shelves packed with books and within the center rested a circle inscribed with material runes, unactivated and prepared for the grouping to activate it. Through most wretched words did the Herald hiss forth, conjuring the massive horror that laid within. As it materialized the group made their preparations, fighting for hours in order to neutralize the threat to the future of their venture. As the ground cloaked with fire, did the Herald become further burned, more and more did his skin tear and leak crimson, one of his legs now melted and skin disfigured once again. A chandelier then fell due to the quake that released through the room at the defeat of the monstrosity, crashing down upon the armored warrior. Into the inferno he fell once more, half his face torched by the torrent of flames that engulfed the group before their escape. Yet, he was assisted by the young knight of whom he had become close with that had ventured into the dungeon with this grouping. His wounds were seething and boils hence did form from the flames that so continued to erode his person. Now, onwards they ventured once more into treacherous halls and caverns unknown. Scorched. -=oOo=- So onwards did this conglomerate push past turrets that shot flames and arrows, cannons that burnt the skin, ethereal entities that spawned from magma, and onwards towards the end of their journey. Finally reaching the end was this Herald of Helinathe burnt and withered from all events that passed and transpired within this chasm of inferno. The left side of his body was scarred, impure, nonfunctioning. Dazed was this redeemed soldier of Azdromoth, as the group entered the final chamber he fell against the wall whilst gasping for air and spitting forth blood and spittle in a vile mixture of ichor that so leaked forth from burnt maw. The hall was silent and the group alone as they meandered about looking for the item of which they entered this pit of flame to acquire, yet it was vacant. The silence in the room allowed for momentary words to be passed and the wounds of the Burnt to be treated as he writhed in pain and screamed in agony. Then, the gate to the room fell and slammed into marble floor below, locking the weary flock within the space as above a luminescence took hold of the dark ceiling and licks of orange and yellow light danced throughout the dome of the final chamber. For the item which the group sought was not out of reach, but was not so easily acquired. Scorched. -=oOo=- Above, a behemoth floated before jumping down towards the Herald of Azdromoth as the Herald of Helinathe writhed on the ground, consciousness fading in and out whilst the group braced themselves for combat. The Doomforged called the group to arms but the Redeemed could not muster the strength and moved to rest on the bars whilst consciousness wavered. There did the young Nephilim who accompanied the group begin the assault while accompanying group members so sought to slay the hulking beast Maerec; The Scorched Herald. It was he who was the final bastion protecting a most sacred artifact, his armor a deep ebony color as flames burst forth from beneath his form and through the front of his helm. The struggle commenced and both parties suffered slices and brute force attacks from one another. Yet in the chaos of it all, did the Herald of Helinathe find himself drifting off as an unseen ethereal force assisted him off into another state of mind. There did the visions begin, the struggle of thousands burning and melting into flame, the world coated in ash and destruction as life itself was consumed by inferno, cinder, and soot. The scenes depicted the past but at the same time the future all in one constant flow of illumination and revelation to the man as his head fell to his chest. Then, forlorn and ancient words were spoken by some unforeseen primordial force into the auditory senses of the man and awoke did he to see the fall of Maerec by the hands of the Titan’s followers and a lone aspiring magi. Then darkness consumed him and his grave wounds caused him to lose consciousness, for he was then brought back to the Silver City in order to rest and recover. Scorched. -=oOo=- -=oOo=- When he awoke he was being treated by the newly attuned fire magi, salves applied to crisp and leaking flesh whilst needles plunged down into bone as alchemical assistance was delivered to his healing process. The magi and he who was now destroyed by flame shared words before he was left alone to his suffering, unable to speak or deliver anything aside from groans and muffled pleas for help into the empty manor. Yet, soon the air space in front of him distorted whilst ash and licks of flame made themselves visible. Before long the Helm of Maerec; The Scorched Herald manifested into his lap with a hiss. It seemed it was his trophy for what he had endured within the dungeon. Shriveled hands which tremors so overtook due to the pain and state of the burns upon them, reached forth to grasp the helm and study it. The Crown of the Scorched Herald was his and his alone. Yet again more visions came to him the more he looked at the helmet, and then he moved so carefully to place it upon his head. Flames burst forth and outwards into the air of the room which the crippled Herald occupied, his burnt face beneath the helm took upon a state of shock as the inferno raged forth in a chaotic display of wretched flames. His sight from the helm was not distorted but different now as he looked past the veil of fire, now seeing the world in a new light. It was his turn to take the mantle of the Scorched Herald, his turn to deliver fire onto the world, his purpose to deliver the realm to the Great Titan Azdromoth. So did the new Scorched Herald speak forth the words through deep demonic tone “Yol.” in low draconic, he would bide his time until his strength returned and once again move forth on his path to Asioth. -=oOo=- (Shout out Johann, White_Wolf, Ryloth, Milenkov, Hotboss,Chenn, and Kunuk for the based event and character development.)

~Yield Onto Me O' Baser Instinct, So That I May Slay Without Mercy Those In Conflict of War.~ So did sit 'pon yonder shores of Isle of Silver, a man lone and clad in crimson armor. Draconic cape did lick forth at meager gusts of wind that drafted over rippling waters and fauna so exposed over top of clear pools. With deep breath and shaky exhale did the Ordained nod at the words of fellow kin whom he retained the company of. "Cold is the wind on this day, for it will soon be replaced with sweat and crimson as flame shall engulf thine enemies." Croaked forth wretched redeemed to honorable knights. Posture shifted so he knelt towards wind-touched water with flaming sword that cast gleams within reflective aqua. "I shall be unleashed once more. To slay and reap souls once more, yet for HE who is different, HE who like me is unchained." So did reborn rise, for greater purpose lay ahead and path to Aisoth revealed further.

[!] Within the skies sat a man, elderly yet not grey in hair or years whom sat upon a chair a tome in hand and around him several monastics of the fraternal order of SS. Jude and Kristoff. The grouping sat laughing, sipping on fine vintage, and enjoying the company of one another. As the missive was written, Jude paused within the commotion and closed his eyes, smaller pools forming in the corners of such as he took a moment for prayer, dwelling upon the works of the man. Soon, a hand met his shoulder, that of one of the individuals mentioned in the fable as well. Yet another Saintly figure stood before him, and with a brief chuckle, so did they return to their jovial celebrations and debates on simple things whilst enjoying the embrace of GOD, celebrating his glory through mere presence and joy with one another. The group as close as they were in life. The fable of his time on earth, now appreciated in the place he once wept over to obtain.

"Maehrir, did you get a new girlfriend? I swear I just heard a woman's voice in the house." The man said from the washroom in the Dov household as the indoor plumbing was still being set up in his family's manor by the GOD OF BATHING ROOMS.

__________________________________________________________________ Circa. 19th of the Amber Cold in the Year 26 of the Second Age __________________________________________________________________ Deep within locked chamber doors did a group of knights gather upon a most hallowed eve. A fraction of their fraternal order, six individuals stood around a spiraling consecrated inferno of ethereal flame in clad crimson armor with draconic embroidered long-cloaks and stern visages that illuminated at the luminosity given off from the crackling fire before them. Long had the journey been through the years for two of the members, one a knight trained beneath combat master in the ways of order and battle and the other a harvester of souls redeemed by newfound purpose within the material realm. Their purpose for this gathering was to take steps forth towards the eternal mission that so continued to dawn onward into the expanse of infinite ambition for these few virtuous men. -=oOo=- The next step was for this duo of sworn templars of the Titan to become marked, inscribed with the blood of two elders that coated their limbs and flesh to permanently bind them to the Great One forevermore. The two had accomplished much, from wars to hunts, uncovering relics to writing scripture, delving into the knowledge of the world to even speaking and sharing dialogue with Azdromoth himself, gaining approval from that of his right hand the Drake. These experiences were shared, pilgrimages were spoken about, support in tandem with acknowledgement from the other members of the order were shared, and nods were given before vile sizzling crimson filled forth two bowls which rested upon the altar in the middle of the room. For one, the guise of mortality fell and with it revealed scale and horns of one ascended to higher existence. So did he, dip forth fingers into the containers of thick ichor, coating claws and digits with the mixture of the substance and inscribing it upon the two Heralds that remained quiet within the space, observing his instructions and word whilst committing it to memory. -=oOo=- Another, the Herald of the Titan returned the ritualistic blade that was used to render the skin and scales of the two back into his draan with smoldering hand laced with orange-red flame whilst he explained forth the mission and duty which the two marked now were tasked with. For it was upon them that this mission was now officially shared between all those in the room. The ‘kivan ro’ was the goal, for no other duty held paramount over that of which the ordained now served. Marked were they with inscription and blood, higher and higher would they strive as they pressed onward in their duties which they were charged with. Dispersed back into the realms of man did the knights retreat, to hide once more among the populace, hiding and performing in plain sight the will of the Titan. -=oOo=-

This ^

HUGEEEEEEEEEE. We men are monsters.

One step closer to the magic plugin SoonTM, well done!

My ears bleed but not as much as the Norlanders.

Within the small home located in the lands of Silver, sat a mali' reading a book as his wife tended to the family needs of the evening. He reclined within a leather arm chair whilst hearth was stained with charcoal from a smoldering flame. After some time, three loud bangs released from the door. Immediately, he'd pull forth his preloaded crossbow and slowly make his way to the door. As the hinges creaked and slowly the door opened, a courier in traditional flamboyant human garb stood before him with a dumb smile and arms extended with a note. A confused look then overcame Thalon Nullivari as his head tilted to the side whilst a "Ehhh....?" escaped him. Pale eyes looking over the man whom delivered the invitation, the smile still upon his visage as he said. "You're invited!" A frown appeared over the man's visage as he looked past to see some of his roses had been stepped on, presumably by the energetic courier who seemed slightly out of breath as he announced the invitation. Thalon lowered the point of the crossbow as he realized this man was not foe, yet simply just strange and overly excited about the festivities to come. The Nullivari soon thereafter took the note and tucked it into the chestplate of his deep red armor as his cloak gave off a few licks of fabric due to the breeze. "Ahernan." Said he to the courier before loosing the bolt into the delivery-man's foot. "Don't step on my wife's flowers next time." With that the door closed and Thalon read the invitation with a broad smile. "Good for Good Ser Antonius, I shall certainly attend!" He said as the screams of the courier were heard but slightly muffled on the other side of the door. Finally, the elf returned to enjoying his Haense imported whiskey.

"Truly, one of the greatest warriors I've ever seen." A white haired man said, dwelling upon the duel by his hearth. Glass of whiskey in hand after a fierce battle on both sides. Soon, he'd give a toast to the day and the victory of his comrade in single combat before going to relax with his wife.

This gamer bullies me now. :(

A certain Saint smiles at the work done by one Cardinal Gawain within the skies.

Based lore +1

*A man places a giant hunk of cheese upon a plywood contraption.* "Well, Good Ri'Haskir... Can you eat these things? Cats and mice... Get it....? Ha....Ha?" @Ryloth

Treshure was indeed..... The man for the job. Well done to you and your team lad. Well done...

"Immaculate." Says a man standing next to the other man as the man smirked at the other mans smirk. So did the men smirk in unison.

THALON ENJOYS HIS FIRST KAEL'THAS WATER AEROBICS INSTRUCTION WITH THE ELDERS OF THE SILVER CITY

Upirs are the feral vampires of the server and are unable to hide or control their bloodlust. They're different from striga and can't hide, easily discernable by the public. I'd give their lore a read, they can be found in the Striga lore post. So technically this would be the fourth "race" of vampires on LoTC that's my real issue with it my above statement was not meant to relate to Striga/Siliti but Upir. Which are already available to CA given proper rp on the server. I'll leave the link to them here. Summary below:

It's a cool concept, but in the end there's already two groups that are vampiric. Not only do I think this would possibly hinder rp for both those groups, the niche this goes for has already been filled by the Striga Upir. I understand that it would be to "blame" it on them but creatures like this technically already exist in LoTC on all fronts. As for more accessible, vampires in general are not supposed to be accessible, they're meant to be elusive, cunning, elite, at the top of the food chain, and able to hide in plain sight, without that this server would be like a twilight fantasy rp medium and would ruin the whole aesthetic of what they are. Unfortunately, I see too many pitfalls in this lore for it to pass LT selection.