squakhawk

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Dreams invaded the mind of the undefended, defenses down as those vulnerable to prophecy were given a dream. The goal of your life, short or long as it was; was always something you had wished for. A goal that you had dreamed since the day you could begin to remember them. A lust for power, a quest for purpose, a desire for wealth, to each their own; but your quest was your own, and every action taken in your life would stop at nothing to acquire that dream. But a voice came down, a heavenly body speaking to yourself as it spoke aloud; Your dreams are my dreams too. A double-entendre, maybe? There seemed no emphasis on if this voice was relational, or instead commanding. You moved on in your sleep, anyways. As quickly as that dream ended, another began. You stood at the precipice of fate, the shepherd awaiting to bring you that of your greatest desire. Everything you had ever wanted before you; undefended, unblocked, unhidden. All it took was to reach out and take it. But you hesitated- why did you hesitate? Conflict stirred your heart as you thought further and further. This is everything I wanted, was it not? You hesitated further. You felt a tug; one from beyond yourself, familiar, and yet so foreign. You'd felt this presence. It forced your hand. You reached out. And suddenly, there was nothing. Then you woke up.

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SYMBOL: The Fox DOMAINS: Chaos, Entropy, Disorder STATUS: Unknown ORIGIN Servant of the Betrayer It was one of the fading memories of the ensnared daemon that she once stood beside Iblees, Lord of Ruin, as an observer and supporter to his cause. In her shorter and shorter recollections, she’d recalled little time in actually supporting Ruin in his endless conquest of descendantkind. Instead, Asura had delighted in the infernal climb; the stories, the drama, the treachery. No king ruled forever, none but Iblees and his less-favoured son atop them all. She’d muted his lessons, his droning tales of when certain victory was to come in his soon-to-come attack on the four brothers; The First War. She’d thought much about what the world was, and what it would be. For now, petty kingdoms which mirrored the climb itself; sundered under the undead of Iblees as entropy was restored once more. The anomaly of descendants would surely be crushed under Ruin’s very boot. But that did not quite seem to happen. As Iblees faltered before the four brothers in The First War, as the weakling Asura provided so little help against the overwhelming forces that banded together between The Triumvirate and further, she was the first, if quietly, to question this plan, and to question this war overall; though it was not reason that caused her to think. In fact, far from. If Ruin is to win and Iblees becomes Lord of All, are things not the same as before? An emperor and his kingdoms, his kingdoms and their people? Order, in one way or another. Even if he was to lose, how is it Descendantkind had earned such a response from nigh-all of the heavens above? Is it not the nature of things, predators and prey, for the weakest to fall and the strongest to survive? Why would the angels above help in this battle from which they gain nothing? Asura spoke none against Iblees and his failures, as the war came to a close. She was too weak to put any fight against him, too erratic to form any scheme, and too focused on one goal to ever do anything but reach directly for it. Let the natural forces take place, heedless of orderly nature. II The Natural Disorder of Things As Iblees sieged The Grove in Athera, the waking of Malchediael had given him chance to escape as he disappeared from the mortal plane oncemore, a freed Aengudaemon in his hands from which he would sculpt one of the greatest enforcers of his will. Chaos, however, found herself free to do whatever she’d liked. Iblees was gone; and his attention now clearly enthralled with the newborn she had cared so little for. During the grove, much to her dismay, Chaos saw it again. Aenguls descending from the heavens, blessing forces of descendantkind with might and magic to fend off Ruin and his undead. In the time between, it seems the Triumvirate and their heavenly allies had defended the disorderly, treacherous, witless mortal men and women for nothing. Some high goal, perhaps. And whilst he did not speak the loudest, nor claim the title, she’d despised one of them more than all the rest put together. Xan. Order himself, the one she saw at cause for these interventions and the deific power handed to descendants alongside the Ascended, with The Paladins. In the end, if she was to ever succeed in returning things to entropy, Order must die first. It was then that she had created the Itharel, the fledgeling Aengudaemon creating beings of pure chaos meant to sew discontent and burn away nations from outside and in. Ravenous, hungering creatures that stalked Athera at the fringes of nations, burning villages, attacking caravans, eating away at society’s most vulnerable edge. There too were her Itharel made in the mortal image, sent to disguise and cause rebellion and strife in nations. To bring them down from within, and to let the grand collapse come with the fall of descendant’s foundation in nations. But the collapse never came, and society simply struggled onward. Unfortunate for Chaos, descendantkind was frustratingly tenacious. She’d frequently lingered on descending herself at times, barely controlled as her emotions caused her to become less creative, less enthused, with her dwindling and failed Itharel. Servants of Order mopped up her creations, fueling her fury as with the last of them destroyed with not even a raise of Order’s finger. It was than, that all became clear. III A Moment of Brilliance, To Break The Cycle It came so suddenly, and so quickly; her eyes widened as clarity was granted unto the Aengudaemon by none other than herself. How couldn’t she see it sooner? Too soon did she fall into the same cycle as Iblees, thinking of how perhaps her goal was different, but her methods were the same. Armies and creatures of her own sent to destroy descendants, and yet each time they had failed. If she was ever to win, how could she simply hope heavenly Aenguls would not intervene once again and thwart her one desire? She was weak from the start. A Daemon nigh marginally more powerful than some of the others within the pantheon; a Daemon which inspired no following, no faith, and no kinship with the rest of her kind. Would she accept to stay in torment forever? A cycle unbroken, a cycle which stood as antithesis to her very being? She’d grinned, a smile the widest she’d borne ever since she first observed a demon climbing his way to the top. Disorder begins with the death of order; and yet she could not kill him, not even if she was twice as strong as she was. But perhaps chaos, entropy, is not something that comes within a day. Nor a month, nor a year, nor decades and centuries. She would not sit within this cycle forever, but victory was certain if one thing had happened. Poison Xan from within, chaos birthing itself once again from the seat of order. Asura knew that he would fall for it; were she to offer her own death in open arms to him, Order would seize the opportunity in an instant, and hold her mantle from anyone else. She’d come before Dragon’s Peak, Lair of The Xannic Order, her arms spread as Entropy revealed herself in full, a maddened look upon her face as she’d promise destruction over Xan’s servants if their master was not summoned. The same grin spread across her face as when she first was struck with brilliance, in preparation for what was to come. She knew her arrogance was rightly placed; for Xan would arrive without ask or hesitation. Xan struck with the force of heavens behind his blade, a cleaving attack from which a single swing would kill his greatest enemy in an exploit of her seeming insanity. Stars moved and the sun moved along with his blade, golden light cleaving Asura in twain. Yet from the golden blade of order which cut cleanly through her, a blackened trail of smog followed. Xan absorbed Asura, both mantle and realm. Eaten whole, wiping the last traces of Chaos from existence as she was smothered in golden light, embalmed in his golden realm as The Daemon of Chaos became a sealed mantle of Xan himself. PRESENT DAY Whispers from The Throne As the Dark Lady lay dead, only the barest essence of her grand soul intermingled with Order’s own, her mantle lay dormant as ashes from that which once was still yet haunted him. It was a gentle accrual; a cancer we began as a benign few mishaps. The Titan of Order, Xan, had began to err mildly in his ways; at least as perceived by his own ilk. Centurions within his realm observed as Order behaved more belligerent- quicker to anger, even if mildly so. Cold, half-calculated demands and orders which seemed at best vague, and at worst and rarest, erratic. It was uncommon for Xan to show any falter, any hint of fear, hindrance, hesitation, or mercy for his foes and brothers alike. And still yet, was it exceptionally uncommon. However, the nature of it seemed to have change. A smidge of brutality, of variability, of turbulence and unfaltering impatience. And though Order maintained his mighty, deific grip over Descendantkind and all it entailed as the greatest holder of mortal subjects and cherished by them with love and respect, something was apparent to only the most devout Centurions of Xan; even unnoticeable from his eldest keepers. Order was no longer perfectly orderly. PURPOSE Explanation Although Asura and her eventline associated are long-dead, her influence still does somewhat remain as her mantle is an innate part of nature and existence. She did not quite get much time in the spotlight nor the support from the team she really deserved during 4.0, and likely won’t get so again; but she still serves as a part of the pantheon and a motif for other deities, primarily Xan, who she still presides within as a cancerous part of the deity. Maybe she’ll work with new eventlines in the future with the proper flavor, theming, and support Asura deserves to be an interesting and three-dimensional character among the rest of the pantheon. Credit: Squakhawk - Writing. Werew0lf - Formatting. Vailoen - Consultation.

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SYMBOL: The Horse DOMAINS: Courage, Resolve, Determination STATUS: Alive ORIGIN Steelen Heart of The First War Though written record of this time in history is long gone and mythical tales by word of mouth serve as only proof of it’s existence, none bore witness to bloodshed more than Courage. When Iblees, the Archdaemon, waged his war against the four brothers in The First War, Aeriel sent four angels to the mortal plane in order to side the brothers and their kin in battle. Perpatiael, Gavrael, Jophiael, and Malchediael, all took the physical forms of weapons as they fully descended to the mortal plane permanently. Considered exceptionally risky, each Aengul knew that doing so meant certain death, were their forms to be broken; and yet Courage himself felt strength with his heart steeled. Aerial herself delivered these four weapons to the four brothers; a falchion for Malin, a sword for Horen, a hammer for Urguan, and an axe for Krug. This axe would come to be known as the Axe of Krug; a symbol of Orcs’ forefather’s strength and valour. It was Krug, ancestor of the Orcs, who first resisted Iblees’s false promises and defied him openly. And so it was that Malchadiael in the form of an axe was granted to Krug, where the latter was unknowingly granted the Angel of Courage’s own strength to persevere against the corrupting influence of Iblees. Malchadiael’s assistance, alongside the assistance of his fellow angels, aided the Four Brothers in holding off the forces of the Archdemon long enough for the joint forces of the deities to shatter Iblees’s army. With the First War over and Iblees’ curse fully enacting itself upon the Four Brothers and their children, Aeriel believed it was time for all Aenguls to return to the heavens. However, The Golden Weapons had sealed their fates forevermore. Each artefact was left within the hands of their respective brother onward, Malchediael firmly within the grasp of Krug for millenia. II The Second Descent, The Stonebreaker Once more the presence of the four weapons were required together upon the mortal plane as Iblees made his return in the realm of Aegis. Malchediael’s Axe and was safeguarded to the Ascended long ago, alongside the other three weapons. In an attempt to return the axe to a descendent of Krug and Warlord of all orcs, Mogroka’Gorkil, a company of ascended had left the safety of their keep to San’jezal to deliver so. However, in an ambush which had decimated the company and sent them in flee, the weapon was lost to Iblees’ undead, who had returned it to an abandoned fortress near Kal’urguan, beginning an occult communion to return the angelic weapon to their dark master. It was then that Urir Ireheart, Clanfather to Clan Ireheart, had heard report from dwarven patrols of undead sightings near the old fort. Blessed by Dungrimm, and witnessing the destruction that Ruin had brought to the lands of Aegis, Urir Ireheart lead an expedition of dwarves; sworn to return or to die in glory; to the fortress. It was a battle where many died, and many broken; yet Urir displayed bravery unbound, that even in the face of death itself, he fought without hesitation or second thought. In this witness of true, undeterred courage, Malchediael lent himself to the hand of Urir Ireheart; who slaughtered the remaining undead with mighty ease. His axe and his men bloodied, the dwarf accrued a title that day, one which would be sun even to this day; Bane of The Undead. In the waning hours of Aegis when all would seem lost, when the continent was overrun and all cities ashen fields, that whilst many chose to board ships which would flee to now what is known as Asulon, few would accept an insult so grave upon their people. Urir Ireheart, alongside Kjell Ireheart and Valen Grandaxe, ventured into the nether to take the fight to Iblees himself at The Nexus in order to stave off the invasion. Though it is unknown what had happened after the portal to The Nether had shut, and Kjell Ireheart speaking little of conquest from which he was the only one to return living; it is sure that they had failed in killing Iblees or destroying The Nexus, but succeeded in giving descendants the time they had needed to escape extinction. It was in Athera where the undead would return again after centuries of chase given to descendants, and the axe returned- in the arm of an undead Urir Ireheart. Tainted by untold time within the Archdaemon’s realm, the weapon was corrupted and Malchediael shielded only by his strength alone; doubts eating away at the edges of his mind as the will to survive stood greater than the influence Iblees had expended to see him further tormented. Falling into a deep slumber within the axe, the weapon was wielded as a weapon amongst the undead armies until the Final Siege of Fi’andria. As Nemiisae’s burrowing sons and daughters, The Mori’Quessir, thwart his conquests and inadvertently kill hordes of undead, Iblees prepared a strike to slaughter the aspect in a single swing for her audacity, and cut off Aspect support to the descendants.. Though the siege of The Grove was bloody, it was by proxy as Iblees raised his arm, and mirroring through realms, the undead raised their arms as well. Executing a swing, the axe of Krug, Malchediael, was slammed into the aspect stone of Nemiisae. It was in a show of awe that the stars themselves moved to get a glimpse; the axe broke upon the stone, and in an explosion of golden light, Malchediael had awoken from his sleep, and freed himself from the axe which had ensnared him for centuries. Seeing the stunning confusion of the servants of Balance, Order, Purity, and further which would soon come to witness this re-birthing of an Aengul, Iblees had taken flight with the weakened Aengul and disappeared offward. Seeing his retreat, the undead fled in return to Drauchreich, where what few would make it would share tale of what they’d seen, and their slaughter at the hands of descendants as they fled from the continent. HISTORY The Moon Knight As Descendants and aenguls alike breathed relief as Fi’andria was spared by coincidence of Malchediael’s rebirth, Courage would find himself treading a dark path as Ruin found a new vessel to manipulate and mould. Given time to restore power and find strength again, Courage was left in a state of amnesia. From his great slumber he entered in the hands of the undead as the Axe of Krug, he remembered nothing of the time before; and even little of the time after. For all he’d recalled, he was a soldier of the undead; of Iblees, a weapon of destruction and a tool to dismantle the weak and craven. It was in this time, under tutelage of Ruin himself, where Malchediael became the right hand of The Archdaemon. In a time of great planar conquest, Iblees shunned even his favoured son Azdromoth in the pure destructive power and sheer unbreakable will of Malchediael. In the decades that followed, universal planes host to thousands of creatures, troves of resources, and even continents upon Aos, were left a gray ashen waste in the wake of Malchediael and his forces. An inept general, but among the greatest fighters who had ever lived; even in half-descent was he able to tread into cities, razing them alone within a night. His mind still a fog, his thoughts still plagued with the whispers of Ruin’s lies and deceit; some cultures even sharing to this day tale of a Knight who Cometh at Moon which brought ruin to everything they had once had. A lone rider upon a horse which brought pox upon men, salt upon fields, fire upon cities, and bloodshed to armies. Still, in this fog, Courage had felt nothing but blistering might from the surge that darkness itself granted him. Iblees had bestowed upon him an enemy; that which from all evil could come from. The Aengul of New Beginnings, Gazardiel, whom would act as the greatest rival for Malchediael as his enigmatic mission and sparing presence brought worry to Courage. It was upon Vailor in which the Drakaar Gudour, still given some semblance of self-reflection by The Sword of Horen which he had been entrusted with, battled anything he could. In a rampage, Malchediael appeared before the shattered Drakaar, the blackened knight and right hand of Iblees, who had wished to fight the suicidal Night Terror. Though Malchediael may have been better skilled as descendants lay in bloodied mess between the throes of Drakaar and Aengul, Gudour had wielded one of the Golden Weapons; Jophiael; Malchediael’s favoured sister. And although Courage understood the weapon wielded by Gudour was of great power, his fog prevented him from understanding what it had truly meant for him; that is, until Gudour had slashed it upside the Aengul. As Gudour’s blade Jophiael rended Malchediael from heel to head, the Aengul of Enlightenment within The Sword of Horen granted him clarity; the fog of Iblees broken, as the bloodied and broken knight was left to bleed out in the dirt. As Gudour stormed offward, Malchediael was not only left with a lingering clarity from his awoken brother, but stunned as revelations of all came to his mind. The true extent of Iblees’ betrayal, the destruction and death Malchediael had caused needlessly, the true craven he had become as a puppet of Ruin unknowingly. Lain in the mud in a pool of deific blood, Malchediael had much time to think upon the brink of death; the only rest he would get for what would come next. III The Sun Knight It was in a complete, thought-obscuring rage which Malchediael had entered after his enlightenment. Fueled by shame, regret, and betrayal, Courage had sought to destroy whatever of Ruin he could find. Though Iblees’ blessings had faltered from him, years later as he half-healed, Malchediael still remained mighty enough to take on Inferic forces in half-descent with ease, bloodlust cursing him as did his former wielder to cause Ruin as much pain as he could deliver. Despite this, Malchediael never had forgotten the boon which was bestowed upon him- willingly or not- from Jophiael. Knowing he was still within the hands of the self-destructive Drakaar Gudour, it became his mission to liberate his blade-sister; no matter however long it may have taken to do so. He’d as well try and make amends to descendants from which he would fight alongside; reading from them what true courage had meant to a mortal. It was through varied nations which Malchediael under guise of a hedge-knight served within; From Haense and Oren, to Krugmar and The Aeldinic Empire, to study what it meant to be truly brave. As they all had fought against evil and tyranny of their own, both Daemonic in nature and not, how could Courage call himself so if he had godly powers against ungodly foes? As he served alongside descendants of Krug, of Horen, of Urguan and of Malin, doubts continued to plague his mind as he saw even against the greatest of odds, descendants continued to struggle against the infinite dark. It was under the study of Gereon “Christ” de Savoie where he saw the spark of Krug in every descendant. He watched as untrained levymen stood their ground against an overwhelming host of knights and undead; paupers stood up to their overbearing lieges, bastards rising their banners against kings. He watched as the Orcs fought to rise in society, from the weakest clanless orc climb his way through raw and potent strength to Rex, from dwarves which stubbornly refused to stop digging deeper as more and more creatures of the dark infiltrated their mines. Elves which, despite dwindling numbers, always held their ground to the last man; killing a dozen for each son and daughter of malin slain. He saw a spark of the very same defiance, courage, and determination that Krug had shown him millenia ago. It burned brighter than he could ever imagine, a fact of daily life as descendants fought against adversity everywhere, everyday. It was under Gereon in which The King who Never Was, Azdromoth, burnt villages and caravans along the roads of Vailor. Causing terror from peasant to king with black dragonfire, Azdromoth brought once again the face of ruin to Malchediael’s mind; requiring him every ounce of strength to not descend in full and destroy Iblees’ favourite son. And yet he did not have to; as descendants fought against Azdromoth, so too did Malchediael join them; The Archdrakaar faltering and fleeing as ballista and arrow broke upon and through his scales, as blades rended at his wings and Malchediael’s very presence burning at his soul from utter hatred. Courage had witnessed his embodiment within the denizens of Vailor which struggled against Azdromoth’s raids, and though his wings were large enough to swallow cities, they continued to fight against him undeterred. It was only to Gereon which he made his true identity known; granting him his blessing of courage, vitality, and strength, to always fight against agents of Ruin; and perhaps even still, Gazardiel. IV Brotherkeeper It was in a return to Athera once more where Malchediael’s redemption would take place. As Descendants meddled about Arcas, squabbling over petty wars and small magicks, few decided to venture back to Athera oncemore to plunder the ruins of empires old, and visit places their ancestors had once walked. Deep beneath the earth near Kal’Karaad did The Night Terror, Gudour, lay in restless sleep upon the border of corruption. Jophiael in hand, Malchediael sought to at any cost, liberate his sister from the hands of a maddened son of Dragur. Despite his speed at the first hearing of the news, it seemed revenge would never come to satisfy Malchediael as he’d come moments too late. As descendant forces stood over the dying body of Gudour, Malchediael appeared upon horseback; The Sword of Horen, Jophiael, had called to him in a way only another Aengul may have. Taking her in hand, and unallowing of wounded and beaten challengers to approach forth, Malchediael held his sister high; the first of three in his goals. Gavrael, The Falchion of Malin, was held tightly within the hand of one of Malin’s sons; Kairn Ithelanen, whom had been granted the blade from Aenor Calithil- one of the eldest elven fighters, and chief of many armies. In respect to both his strength and courage which had led Kairn to forge both Kingdoms and Armies by his will alone, that a disguised Malchediael had challenged him for the right to bear the blade which entrapped his brother. Despite the thought of fighting an illusive stranger in one-on-one combat for the artefact of his race, Kairn easily accepted- something that Courage had deeply respected for showing so boldly against him. The two fought, and though Kairn was well experienced, he stood little chance against an Aengul whom had seen millenia of battle, both as weapon and wielder of it; even if holding back his deific strength and prowess, and suppressing the premonition Jophiael had granted him. In the midst of battle in a single swing did Malchediael cleave the sword-arm of Kairn which had held the Falchion, Malchediael calling an end to the duel even if Kairn had wished to continue the fight. Despite this, Evar’tir Oranor, a clan member of Kairn, had wished to continue the fight; or at least challenge Malchediael. Bearing the divine right of a son of Malin to wield his blade against an Aengul whom claimed it as his brother. The following duel was as curt as the last; the would-be Prince of Elvenesse lain upon the stone by Courage itself, as it pointed The Sword of Horen at his very throat. In acceptance of the terms, The Falchion of Malin, and Gavrael within it, was granted to Malchediael; the blade of peace aligning his swelling lust for vengeance within, at least mildly. Only one of his brothers remained; Perpetiael, within The Hammer of Urguan. V The End of New Beginnings Although Malchediael was still weakened from his abrupt awakening upon The Aspect stone of Nemiisae and wounded from the rending slash of Jophiael and Gudour, Courage did not spare a moment to heal as he’d still rode across the planes to avenge what honor Iblees had besmirched of him. As a bleeding star flew over Arcas, with Metzli’s corpse falling from the sky, Courage summoned himself to the battle that was sure to come. The invasion of the Inferi had begun as descendants began to fight against the forces of Moz’Strimoza and The Nether once again. Although Iblees’ strings upon him were cut long ago, one enemy still remained; Gazardiel; whom had hidden himself for centuries from The Aengul. Malchediael was troubled, as he could not remember; even given the clarity of Jophiael; if he had truly sought to end Gazardiel, or if Iblees’ insidious manipulation continued to give poisonous thoughts to him. With the battle that was to come, Malchediael began to grant his blessings again; an order of the most courageous fighters of Humanity, Elves, Orcs, and Dwarfkind to struggle against the darkness with the imbuements of Courage. With knights by his side, other deities began to take notice to the unchained hound that Malchediael was; wishing one way or another, to have him upon their side. As Descendants struggled to initially mount a fighting force against the demonic hordes, Malchediael felt a pang of agony; one which he did not understand the origin of. Perhaps Iblees had sensed his presence once more alongside descendants? Maybe even Jophiael trying to convey some message to him. Despite foresight, it was only a day later when he had heard the news; Perpetiael, The Hammer of Urguan, was stolen from the strong Grandmarshal Dimlin Irongut. His last brother which he’d wished to reclaim above anything else was in the hands of his greatest enemy, and that whom he’d deemed the greatest coward of all; Iblees. It was through the cautious and careful whisperings of Tayl, one of the few Aengudaemons not seen as part of some establishment or order, where he’d been told a half-truth; one which had all he needed to hear; or perhaps, wanted. Gazardiel was at cause for this all; and Gazardiel would appear soon, in the hour of twilight for all descendantkind. Malchediael conveyed this to his knights, and prepared for the worst as the battle would eventually commence, The Final Battle of Arcas. Standing high above the armies of Oren, Urguan, and Aegrothond, with Aeriel, Xan, Tahariae, and Eshtael at his side in an unlikely and uncomfortable alliance did Malchediael only seek one enemy of the thousands they would face ahead of them. One goal he shared in common among the rest of the present Aenguls, who fought for order, balance, purity and the common good; the death of Gazardiel, a craven and a betrayer. Imbueing their blades with golden flame, steeling their hearts with courage, and ensuring them with vitality unbound, Malchediael and his host flew forward to break upon the camp and battle with demons and horrors from beyond this realm and the next. Another pang of pain was felt; and a scream which bloodied the ears of any Aengudaemon, causing them to chill with fear if for but a moment; even Malchediael had been stunned by it. Eshtael, in her half-descent, had been struck by a Zar’akal in flight with The Hammer of Urguan. Perpetiael awoke within the weapon, the entrapped Aengul beckoning for side as Eshtael slammed into the earth, bleeding starlight. Malchediael’s efforts focused as he’d chased the demon-bat-backed imp, abandoning his former fight as he’d flown deep behind enemy lines to retrieve so. The mount in an instant slashed in half, and diced to pieces as the imp was left to plummet to it’s true death, Malchediael retrieved his brother who called not to be with him; but in the hands of the rightful dwarf Jorvin once more. In respect of the dwarven Grand King who had lost popularity beyond his control for losing the weapon, Malchediael bestowed it upon him in the midst of battle; Gazardiel stood before the hatchling egg of Iblees, with Courage surging forth without fear. Despite The Spear of Brev, and artefact which could kill him with ease, by his side in the hands of Murdok’Lak, and The Hammer of Urguan in the hands of Jorvin Starbreaker; the four golden weapons and god-killer spear would stand against Gazardiel who stood alone. The Aengul of New Beginnings, obsessed with restarting the Age of Mathic once again, had began to prepare the end of all as even the furthest Aengudaemons sensed what was about to become. In the flash of a moment, The Spear of Brev was thrown directly into the chest of Gazardiel; pinning him against the egg which would once again awake Iblees. Perpetiael, The Hammer of Urguan in hand, Grand King Jorvin Starbreaker heroically crashed the mighty awakened hammer into the skull of Gazardiel; crushing it as the Aengulic weapon brought the millenias of might upon it. In an act of albeit too swift vengeance, Malchediael finished the assault with a single slice of Jophiael; The Sword of Horen separating Gazardiel’s head from his shoulders. As the great spell which would begin the cycle of existence anew tore asunder, Arcas began to shred apart as a bright light exploded outward from Gazardiel’s corpse. His mantle consumed by Iblees who would once again awaken, retreating to The Nether as the battle was won. As all forces were shoved backwards, Perpetiael seen melted away as The Hammer of Urguan was likely destroyed; Gavrael perhaps too with it, The Falchion of Malin exploding to pieces which would fall thousands of miles from where they’d once stood together upon Malchediael’s side. Although most clearly was Jophiael seen, the sword-aengul melting to Courage’s form for a brief moment before appearing again at his side. The wash of demons would be cleaned up in a heroic second wind by descendants, what was left unslaughtered fled in the shock and awe of an Aengulic death; not to mention, the most powerful of them all. Malchediael felt the surge of victory as he joined with them, noticing all too easily how Eshtael and Aeriel had merely stood and watched in petrifying terror as he and descendants cleaned up what would spell their end. FOLLOWING The Templars The Templars of Malchediael are warriors, fighters, leaders and courageous descendants who bear the blessing of Malchediael. A bit of his strength in each of them, The Templars serve to show courage by never backing down from a challenge which may present to themselves, or whomever else they fight alongside. Destroyers of evil, of the craven who cheat death, manipulators and liars, and even one another should they display even an inkling of fear. They mirror their blessing father who would continue to wage an unending war against Iblees and his servants, fighting in his image in an unending battle that descendants must always fight. Malchediael, in a somewhat lofty goal, seeks to re-make the world in an image of bravery, and might- the strong defending the weak, without room for deceivers or those who may quiver in fear at death or darkspawn. The blessing first given to Gereon de Savoie, and once again to Evar’tir Oranor, they work independently of The Aengul to fight alongside him and with his goals in mind; an order which he made in the image of descendants to bring out their truest bravery and determination to keep fighting. Unrelying on him to function, Templars serve as a reminder that courage is found within themselves inherently; it is not a gift, nor is it a toy. Courage is a weapon which should be used by all descendants to drive evil from one another; it is not an Aengudaemon’s duty to do so for them. Present Day The Brothers Separated, Inseparable Current, Malchediael’s whereabouts are somewhat unknown; though sparing glimpses of him are still heard of, Jophiael continues to cloud his mind. Unknowing if Malchediael’s goals and missions are his own or of his blade which has been kept at his side for centuries, The Aengul of Courage travels from plane to plane, destroying any sense or sight of Iblees and his presence upon them with demonic invasions from Moz’Strimoza. As well, in flight throughout the infinite dark, taking courage to the outermost bounds of the mortal plane and destroying any who would dare slip past The Veil. It is as well considerable his desire to establish himself as a proper Aengudaemon; not possessing a realm himself, it seemed even the most unworthy such as Yeu Rthulu had borne a realm to themselves at one point. It is not recognition he seeks; but respect he demands; from his counterparts which view him directly as a tool. And although he and his following are in good graces with Paladins and Clerics of the modern day, he seeks to prove to their respective Aenguls that he is no unchained weapon, broken free by mistake; but the greatest, and most true to his purpose, of them all. It is through sheer manipulation that Xan and Tahariae keep him oriented, giving him clarity of Jophiael whom he is clueless to truly understand with her enigmatic purpose. PURPOSE Explanation Malchediael is one of our most popular and well known deities, and is well deserving of a write that properly respects his status and history. Although it is extensive, this comprehensive history does cover almost entirely in-game events and goals known to both players and staff in control of the Aengul. Malchediael is quite different from the rest of the Aenguls, where some may be viewed as more timid, The Aengul of Courage is exceptionally violent and destructive, yet more productive than many others with these tendencies. Although Malchediael is likely out of commission for some time due to his extensive time in the spotlight to make room for other stories to develop, his legacy endures in both player lore and history where he impacts stories of characters and more, and will continue to likely forever onward. Credit: Riftblade/Ulmo - Inspiration, Consultation, Resource, Basis of Writing Mordu - Black Books of Drauchreim, References ScreamingDingo - Consultation Werew0lf - Formatting SquakHawk - Writing

This lore has been denied. Hey there! I see your submission here and I appreciate the improvements over the last. However, outside of remarks that other players have commented (to varying degrees of clarity), you could accomplish this with a certain aesthetic achievable by a few other Creatures on the server, such as Darkstalkers or Draugars. However, CAs we generally like to have varying aesthetics with; we enjoy having a broad variety on the server, and don't like overcrowding a niche with too many different types. While I trust your intention was not that, you must consider something like this is something other players will apply for and play, and the write doesn't necessarily come off as too diverse. While I know this is separate from your first write, we aren't looking for any more "Mainstream" races akin to orcs, elves, etc - nor would we be looking to add subclasses to them. In general, there's a lot of improvements to be done, but all in all, I wouldn't reccommend submitting another write for these guys, or others, until you've got a bit more experience under your belt. Both with the server and how the server writes, we have a very detailed Lore Criteria under this subforum which should detail what we expect, and along with that, I really think you should spend more time on the server interacting, roleplaying with, and roleplaying as varying CAs to get an idea of how they feel, play, and live in the world. We always want to have a world filled with different creatures to keep things fresh and fun, and so there is a whole lot of opportunities to expand and enrich your roleplay through these varying CAs. Give them a shot! And see even if you can accomplish the aesthetic of what youre looking for here with them. They aren't too hard to find, and communities (particularly magic ones) are generally very accepting of newer players eager to learn. Have fun, and take it easy. Happy roleplaying!

I have to say I have noticed the opposite effect, and it’s troubled me greatly. I talked at length with my friends this map and last about how strange of a phenomenon it was. When roleplaying my female characters, such as Anethra, Caira, or Illythia, I can’t say even once I felt I was being ignored irply. I was referred to often (and still am, both seriously and jokingly) as a woman OOCly and I can’t say I ever encountered mistreatment or disrepect upon me or how I play my characters, if anything just some teasing from a lot of folks which was all lighthearted and good fun. I found Anethra and Illythia to be by in large my most successful characters ever because of simply how many people begged to interact and talk with them, for hours on end. I had the opposite thought where people were just trying to sex my characters, which I also can pretty confidently say didn’t happen whatsoever. I have to note too, since it’ll be brought up, I was not even on ST the majority of my time on Illythia- and as Anethra, I was just some no-name on the team until the end half of her best and last arc. Id honestly say it’s significantly easier, at least for me, to play female characters simply because of how baby’d I was in roleplay. I was always included, given preferential (irp) treatment, and made so many actual OOC friends based off amazing roleplay. On my kale characters, contrary, I’ve had almost a terrible time with each. Lucian Renault, Laurent Silversteed, Sand, with the only real exception to the rule being Hera who got such a cult following because of how fucking weird he was people usually talked to him cordially because he was a weird little creature. But as Lucian, Laurent, Sand, I feel out of place. I never fit in in cities, i’ve went so far to describe it as being a custom character in a GTA V Cutscene. Nobody talks with me, nobody interacts, again before, during, and after being a regular base ST for all these guys. I only got to talk and roleplay with people I was OOCly established with. Others only approached me because I had a magic and they wanted it. Most of the time as a male character people massively disrespected their character quality (particularly Lucian and Laurent) because they were human nobility and thereby seen as “generic and uninteresting”. I really tried to give them both a shot for a year and a half and I’ve never had a more toxic time trying to have a human family succeed that was thwarted nonstop by OOC efforts and debasing of my character, especially because they were male and I’d previously played females. I can say there’s a definite stereotype of “palace egirl” (not one I endorse) which I think falls into the idea that there are characters which can appear this “generic and uninteresting”. People are terribly shallow and typically look at only the most surface appearances of a character and depending on what they may already think about you, debase you off that. The server is mildly different from then now where with the foregoance of activity checks (starting to miss them) we have super insular groups that only roleplay with one another all the time. Nations don’t change hands, don’t move, players and playergroups are static because they can afford to be. You’re an outsider, why would they take the chance? I know this is a roleplay server, that’s not how it should be, yada yada, but I can’t say I have control over that since I know people will flip shit if something like checks came back and people actually made a concerted effort again to intermingle and roleplay with one another over an easily achievable imaginary number. I went a little off tangent. Overall my point is that i believe it isn’t rampant widespread misogyny, I think it’s an idea that people are too quick often to judge characters and want to be engaged more than they want to engage roleplay. It’s always good to be mindful with what we think of characters, their sexes, their races, and to clear any bias we have since this is a fictional playtime video game meant to safely visit and see themes and feelings we otherwise wouldn’t have outside of it. That’s the core of roleplay. These are all anecdotal, and personal experiences, which don’t reflect true for everyone. How we interpret our interactions and roleplay is completely different as we are completely different people. You’re entitled to your opinion, and I my own, and neither is more wrong nor right than the other. I’m just giving personal experiences I’ve had myself and a reflection I’ve been wanting to share for a long time since I can’t help but notice how strange it was, and how weird it makes me feel to focus on my male characters now which are a fraction as successful.

i cant say slurs in #thug-shaker-central ? ? ? you've overstepped this time mr itdontmatta. expect a message from my attorney shortly. You are infringing on my freedom of speech.