Jentos

Within blackened throes, within a blasphemous chasm sat a burning man, cloaked with bristling, agonizing flames, filled and thundering with that of ire. The man screamed, the man howled, his face shifted and melded, he was and was not, cursed and beyond the steps of Heaven. ”The elves, the elves!” the man went on ”They bore the fruits of doom! Seeds of death! Oh my eyes! Mother! MOTHER!” Screamed on the hexer, as he began to tear at his very own eyes, howling within death. But his punishment was grave, but his judgement would not be clouded by his blood.

One particularly unsavoury individual look past a pair of city gates, musing about hexer. “What a joke we are.” he murmured aloud, reflecting the events of days prior.

Bro no you got to let all these ugly basement dwellers be able to play their nice seven foot elves !

One strange man gasps. He stared around him, waken by some accursed word; a hymn of old; incantation broken; his name spoken. His lips, charred and broken slowly parted, to echo forth words of old, a prayer of redemption. But the divine do not relent. And the man screamed, he shuddered and broke. Taken by one spiral of flame, his limbs tearing and breaking. Sins are not forgotten. But his name was. For by all means, hexers do not die in their beds. He did not belong in the realm of the living, and he never would return. He had uttered blasphemy; the name of God. Madness, the lot of it, why, even logic had stopped making sense.

OOC ((MC Name: Jentos )) ((Discord:Jentos#6646 )) ((Timezone:EST )) RP What is your name? Pyotr Why seek membership within the Mages Guild? To learn and embrace sorcery, magic, to delve deeper within the mysteries that lurk beneath us. What is the extent of your experience with magic? Very limited. What arts if any do you currently study and who was your teacher? None. What position do you desire to claim upon joining the guild? Nothing more than an acolyte. What position do you desire to advance to within the guild? A sorcerer. When is the best time to contact you for an interview? Any time. I have much.

Pyotr Radovic gazed to his left, eyeing his kin, obviously confused at the details of the Pontiff’s reinstatement, but asking no questions, after all, he was a loyal man.

A retarded raevir stares at the blood mage

I’m not. Though the worst part is realizing that there will likely be no modification to this due to their creator literally being the leader of the lore team.

I’d like someone to actually address the current situation of Izkuthii, or however you actual spell these. I find that these have over-all been forgotten, and are, as it stands, immortal. I could literally tear it’s head off and it would regrow in a few emotes. And unless I’m wrong, only damaging the heart can destroy these, though I’ve already heard the “hahahah lemme just put magical blood orcish steel around it”.

One unseen figure bent low, he graced the heavens above, dusting his aging scalp with blessed ash of past, tormented men of God. A hymn twice chanted, only once revised, left his parched lips. A rend for the thirst of the stars.

One old man groaned, he rubbed at his pained brows. He let out a number of coughs and bitter curses, taking out an old, ornate jar of ink from his satchel. GIVEN NAME: Janislav of Laria NOBILITY/GENTRY (Y/N): N NAME OF RECRUITER*: Beren de Rezfield USERNAME: Jentos DISCORD#:Jentos#6646

One wretched scholar screamed and howled. Thinly, skeletal hands tore forth at his frame. Before him lay horrendous sights; beautiful void of the stars. Hence soon after, he pondered what kind of degenerate would add orange into vodka. He screamed again. He would not be heard.

One mad pilgrim danced amongst dead men. He would be rather late for such a fine event.