Jentos

yeah

Just open up one of the old PVP/Warclaim maps, or at least make those available :*

I dun want it

(Snip)

Give me murderchild malepreg back then we can talk . . .

Wheres the malepreg?

"Minitz has fallen. It's over." said a monk, his head held down and eyes tightly shut.

A letter is penned, and sent to the author, delivered by a small, bat-winged creature with a serpentine tail. The nature of the Dreadknights requires the usage of powerful blood magic, and the bindings of rune upon the armour, which not only retain the plates together, but bind the soul required to carry out the dreaded will of its maker. These are the machinations of an old, limitless science; blood. Blood is the engine of all things living and observed, from thoughts, to very realities. Understanding its conception opens the way to bending life to ones will through an almost religious, and sacrilegious understanding of it. This sorcery is one used by the despairing, the cruel, and the careless; for the very essence of a being is locked into cold steel, removed of its passions, languishing, and bound to a master. I will not delve into its implication for the immortal soul, and its stain upon our very reality. The destruction of such runes is paramount to defeating a dread knight. Short of that, forges or bodies of lava were once used to melt them apart. They may also be buried or trapped. I find it surprising that their armour fell apart; signalling perhaps the age in which they were made, or perhaps the cheap craftsmanship once employed by the Mori'quessir. Moreover, it may also point to the fact that these are a different breed of dread knight altogether, let alone a different entity altogether. When you, or any you care, come face to face with a dread-knight, know that these are a cruel, sorcerous make. Shatter them with what you can, rend them of the sorcery that locks their spirit in place. And for those mighty in the spiritual ways, lend a metaphoric ear to these creations, and you will hear the despair of the souls within. Remember, no matter one's creed, pantheon or origin; there is something deeply holy in the destruction of the dread-knight. My kind thank you for the gift of your research, The An-Gho

"Never have I looked upon more terrible a sacrilege, made more terrible for the greater semblance of ever unreachable Truth." spoke the An-Gho.

The An-Gho stared at those gathered about him, seated upon ash with a mane of fire, raising a left hand with a halo of fire . . . Destiny had come.