RaiderBlue

Martin looked over the sign-up sheet with a frown. "Do I really need to sign up? Surely you know I'll just be present." A complaint was made against his fellow ward, Ithmere, though it was promptly denied, and he was encouraged to simply do it like everyone else. To which the young prince did.

Name of the Artifact: Egg of the Phoenix Lore / Description A rare creature with dark red and bright orange plumage, the Phoenix, once seen in the descendant world, was long thought extinct. The species, in itself, in prior times, only ever lingered in the shortest of numbers, twelve at a time. As the cosmos shifts, nature has begun to find its new footing, and a select few chosen have found themselves in possession of these most ancient creatures. Starting as but simple eggs, these birds of natural fire have been granted new life. Perhaps to one day serve as useful tools in the greater workings of those who brought about their revival. While in earlier centuries there were several forms of elemental phoenixes, in the modern age, the only ones that exist are those of Ignis. The phoenix is most commonly known in legend for an innately primordial flame within its being and for a mixture of red, yellow, and orange feathers. Wielding not only fierce talons and razor-sharp beaks but also keen minds making powerful companions for those that bond with them. The process of this bond is quite simple and quite rapid once the egg has fully hatched. As a Phoenix hatches, it grows and develops an innate connection to its shell, indicating that whoever is nearest to it is the most trusted. General Artifact Redlines: Whoever is the holder of the eggshell that the Phoenix initially spawned from is the one the Phoenix holds an innate connection towards. Marking them as the user and owner of the Phoenix, meaning they will take any commands or assist others. That said, a Phoenix will never attack or harm a previous holder of its shell. When an egg is handed out by the ET, it will be initially generic during the growing stages. After it hatches, players must inform the ET to help define the Phoenix's general appearance, name, and personality. Once the initial player and ET have reached an understanding, a new item will be created detailing all relevant information. In total, from the gathering of a new egg via ET, it will take a total of [2] OOC weeks to fully hatch, of which the player must provide. Along with an additional eggshell [1] OOC week to reach full growth. At this point, combative capabilities and spells are unlocked. To fully hatch an egg, the player must come up with some form of way to sustain a burning heat around the egg for [2] OOC weeks or IRP years. Some examples of this include flamewells, burning bonfires, or even dangerous volcanoes, if they had a way to retrieve the egg later on. Malflame may not be used as a means to maintain the flame for the Phoenix egg, as it would kill the Phoenix's soul. The height of a Phoenix can range between 2 - 4 feet, whilst holding a wing span range of 6 - 11 feet in total. Leading to the birds being generally larger than your standard bird companion. The talons on a Phoenix are comparable to ferrum in terms of density and strength, but would be no less effective than a small dagger in terms of being used to attack enemies. In terms of defense, the Phoenixes are like any other bird and can be put down with a well-placed shot. Only being able to withstand three strikes from either a ranged or melee strike before falling dead and beginning its death process. A new holder of the Phoenix cannot command or utilize the Phoenix for a total of [1] OOC week, should the shell be taken or passed off. Within combat, the Phoenix may only function in a 20 block radius around the eggshell and, subsequently, the player who holds it. These eggs are considered extremely rare; that said, an ET may inject more, so long as they produce an event line for one to appear in and, with it, gather Event Management approval. Explanation of Effects: Physicality When hatching from an egg, a Phoenix can take on a number of different forms, largely dependent upon the flame that sustained them for the incubation period while within the egg. Perhaps a phoenix born of a molten pool of lava has a far more ashy presence, rough red or black feathers, and a jagged beak. Where, in contrast, a flamewell or brazen bonfire, a Phoenix may hold lighter-hued feathers of yellow, orange, red, and maybe even white, an elegant beak, and a calmer demeanor. No one phoenix is alike another, even if the same means of incubation are used. That said, there are commonalities between them. Physiologically, the phoenix’s talons and beak are both comparable to those of iron, acting as excellent tools for capturing its own prey. Though no more effective than a common dagger. As for the beast's size, the phoenix often stands between two and four feet in height, whilst supporting a wingspan between six and eleven feet. Mentality Often prideful to a fault, the ever loyal Phoenix forms an immensely strong bond with their caretaker to the point that they might even sacrifice themselves for their sake. Stemming from whoever holds their shell, their place of rebirth, and a signifier of their protector. The phoenix will form a connection with the new holder of the shell almost immediately. That said, the phoenix will never turn on its previous owner, so it will refuse to attack or otherwise harm its former protectors. As with a phoenix's physicality, differences in personality can largely depend on how the egg was incubated. For example, perhaps one hatched from a burning pool of magma has a stubborn nature, or even, at times, is outright aggressive. Where one made from a flame well may be exceedingly courageous, being the first thing to enter into conflict when it or its keeper is at threat. Abilities Ascendant Mind - [Passive / Combative] Unlike your common natural born creature, the Phoenix is granted an innate sentient mind, able to retain immense amounts of knowledge even from the time within their own egg. While they lack the ability to speak, they can innately understand almost any non-magical language. This awakened sentience allows the Phoenix to easily take commands and even take the initiative. Allowing the phoenix to assist its owner with menial tasks and defend against attackers. That said, the bird in itself is quite fragile, only being able to take a few hits before succumbing to the wounds inflicted upon it. If the Phoenix has not been emoted prior to the start of combat, a player must spend [1] emote to call for the bird, prompting its arrival in subsequent emotes. Redlines: Cindering Form - [Passive / Non Combative] Spawning from the Ignis subspecies, these phoenixes form passive flickers about with primordial flame. Being so innately attached to its form, the phoenix may expel its flames to ignite things in a sudden manner of combustion. Passively, when not used within combat, a holder of the Phoenix egg may command their Phoenix to conjure their primordial flame for certain tasks. This can be used for various means, such as starting a campfire, melting away large sheets of ice, or maintaining the heat of a forge. While this specific instance of conjured flame cannot be used in combat, should a player capture another or in some way fully restrain the Phoenix, it can be used as a form of execution. Either via lighting a great pyre or immolating them directly. These actions may be done over the course of [1] emote. Redlines: Rekindling - [Passive] As spoken of in the fable, from the ashes of a phoenix will soon be kindled fire, and with it new life as the perished phoenix is born again. Death is within its nature; the creature's essence lingers beyond it so long as something remains for it to return to. Passively, once a Phoenix has either reached fifty years of age a natural rebirth will occur much like it might should the Phoenix be struck down by conflict. Their form will alight with the primordial flame that makes up a majority of their form, immolating them to be nothing more than ash. Though, of course, this is not the end. Once the Phoenix’s ashes have scattered, they will begin to magically reform within their former shell over a period of [1] OOC Week. Once all the ashes have found themselves gathered once more, they will suddenly surge to life, and with it the Phoenix. The only exception to this occurrence is when the Phoenix has sacrificed itself using Everburn, extending the resurrection period to [6] OOC Weeks. Redlines: Everburn - [Active / Combative] In times where the phoenix’s handler is in grave danger the Phoenix may gather the burning essence within them to perform an attack of sacrificial immolation. The phoenix, being a creature of primordial flame, can build itself to temperatures that can be extremely deadly. This buildup occurs over time, culminating in an immolating implosion of violent flames. In total, it will require [3] emotes for the flame to spark to life upon the phoenix, before rapidly growing as the phoenix dives upon its foes, expelling forth a massive fireball from its form, taking up a 6x6x6 area. This implosion area can instantly cause third-degree burns in flesh and bring standard steel to its melting point. That said, this is costly upon the phoenix's form, destroying it along with the explosion, requiring a total of [6] OOC Weeks for the phoenix to reform in its shell. Additionally, Everburn may only ever be triggered as a sacrificial option, meaning the handler must be actively stuck in combat, greatly wounded, or wounded and fleeing for the phoenix to make such an action. Redlines: ET Responsible for Artifact: RaiderBlue

He's so back... Xan Anthem II in my ears again.

Traitor of The Story Team...

No music to give it aura...

“I will not aid you in ruining yourself” In the lengthy days since the death of the Matriarch Fox the being once simply known as Asger Nria lingered within the wilds. The line of dialogue from his favored sibling weighed upon him as each step forward did to him. He had separated from his coven upon the completion of the ritual to linger upon what had been wrought, but he felt such little joy he expected from the moment. While the contortion of the beast sparked life, as he shifted away to safety and lingered on fang within his possession he was forced to recall what he had done. Hidden away within the inner channels of a lonesome cave the Spore Druid could not help but lean inward to the voices that rattled out to him. An inner council of only his creation. Periodically the lord twitched scratching against his barked skin in contemplation as the chattering arguments of the colony of mycelium upon his staff continued, leaving him to set it aside to further close himself off from the voice of nature, a council he did not seek. He denied any other further opinion on it, in his own mind it was just the same thoughts that drove him. “It all had to be done; it was they who acted first.” Though unfortunately for the man while a being of soul tied to the realm his soul was not only his own but one intertwined with a creature that knew all too well his nature. Betrayer. Coward. Killer. Rattled out the tune of the long dead owl Spore had utilized but days before, so laced within his own actions, something gifted to him by the very own druid he betrayed. He could not escape the reality of his nature, there was no justification for claiming the fox as he did as there was no reason for the claiming of the Owls life he had a century before. How the simple word Traitor uttered in the Owls' last moments caused the man's rage to consume, releasing an anguished wave of death over the owls once home. It was true that the Lord hated to remember a time that had long abandoned him. When that fox found the Draoi lingering in solitude alone bearing a letter only of the past the man showed something to the once companion of the Fox druid he had not in many years compassion. Taking the letter with shaky hands as the fox scampered out of the cavern with its life.

Heed my call, servants of the Aspects. Beneath these soils roils something far older than that of the wild Gods. I have heard its whispers in my dreams, and it has revealed truth; within each of us lies a primordial power that the Aspects and greater Aenguldaemonic influence seek to deny us. To which truth was greater revealed to me in the burning of the Wicker Druid’s Grove. The essence that lingers within each of us descendants is one of primordial discourse. For their slight against me, they were struck from this realm, forced to release a wisp of energy as they fled to the Eternal Forest. The Graveyard of the Forgotten. In their final moments, their tune cried out in muddied words; they spoke of the great old oak as if it were standing still. I have realized with that single act, I affected you all so greatly. I have awoken something within you. I know my words to be true. Your panic, your anger, what will it draw you to, to get but a whiff of what I inflicted upon you? You claimed one close to me so I have answered back with the casting down of your patrons. Will you echo those of the past and only speak in vague nomenclature of what to fear? To that of my forebearers, the intrepid overstepping of the Shadow, the poison of the Father Circle inflicted by the Viper, or shall something new be formed of me, a disease spawned on by the Spore. You may deny me such now, but in truth, I am kin beneath them, the same as each of you. No matter how it may be avoided, we are the same, yet I am only further along the path. Know that I did not wish to claim my dearest sibling, Fox, but my hand was forced just as it was forced by your precious Wicker. Those that now linger in the forest have only gotten what was destined for them from their actions. The anguished cries of Bolormormaa and her kin will be spread across the land, her children enraged and rampaging just as their mother does. It is time for you all to act, to decide whether what I have caused is more important than finding my life essence or not. To the cohort of the Mother Circle You will be the first afflicted by my ire, your grove besieged Nature shall not be your ally within the coming days, but a tainted beast. One that requires only one thing, a blade jabbed within its neck.

Spore plays King K Rool

As the channels of battle echoed out from the lower portions of the cave, Asger felt the tether attached to Nenar's soul suddenly relinquish, not to the depths of the Soul Streams destinations but one destined for them hundreds of years ago. An outcome undesirable to the long-aged elf but one he was quick to accept, turning to travel to the battle after a snide comment came almost second nature to him. One that claimed cowardice of the soul tree as it was consumed by demonic flames, he so greatly loathed. The eternal man thought of the now-deceased in those moments after the words shared over time, as one aching question lingered at the forefront of the being's mind. Does such mutual shame and distaste not make the two Lords similar? A question they would never earn an answer to as he exited, looking down over the amassed force meant to foil long-toiled over plans. The tree lord held no truth, though, as conflict continued, and his gaze met that of enraged, panicked warriors; a singular thought crossed his mind. They were no different from him; their rage would gnaw at their mind, as it did to the lord who died but moments before.

woah my head canon is about to be made canon

Serving people within what feeble way he could, Nikolai, the once chaptermaster, remained in a simple role he had taken many times before, that of a Farmer. Crouched upon a small field, plucking produce from the ground in preparation for the seasonal harvest, when purity made itself known across the realm of Azuras. A pause echoed over the old man's form as purity struck within the confines of his mind, and the withered form of a former man slowly turned back towards a small homestead. As memories beyond purity entered his mind. One of a fallen brother and mentor. Time had continued, order was near forgotten, and the ageless man, while withered, had not aged since his chosen lord's fall. A single line of questioning lingered within the man's mind: Why did he still linger? Was there a purpose to his continued existence? Was there any weight to his words spoken to his mentor's final moments? The old man could only raise himself from the field, trekking forward within the abode before opening some hidden place of security and retrieving a sole item. A blade entirely coated in worn cloth and bandage to hide its nature, the once-glimmering Lux had long since been dimmed. Though as the bandage turned for the first time in many years, the deific blade shone for but a few moments.