Callistus
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Posts posted by Callistus
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21 hours ago, Werew0lf said:
You could probably perfume them up and then wear a helmet, but it won’t be possible to wear flesh-suits or look like a normal descendant.
I think it would only be comical if people pretended perfume would mask the stench of death and rot
2 -
the flock of lamb awaits a hero in white as the wolves devour the sun
they think he will shame and trick the cronus that would fell our god, but the corpse of our god already rots in his temple
(can a new eden even be built upon the rot of ymir?)
find your horns, wicked deceiver; no ram may stand between the lion and the lamb
Spoilergood luck folks, I have no more fight in me
I think the true niche and beauty of the lore jentos and I set out with has been blotted, and its purpose reduced… the many arms of vishnu bind you closely
7 -
In years past, a man, conflicted by his despair of humanity and its devolution in the false name of modernity, forged a pact with something primordial. He pried into an evil which had better not be touched, and imposed a mark of 'devilry' upon himself in an act of martyrdom and self-abandon. His cause, one that left him a recluse among people, a beast in the flesh of Man, sacrificed the once-holy selfness of this man in the grand pursuit of a thorough cleansing. His dogma was one of rebirth through regression, and it insisted that humanity had strayed from its original course. In this apostolic road, the only path to Man's deliverance from their worship of the ego was to be basked in their own blood, by their very clawed hands. Through the transience of men into primordial beasts, the vicar Godefroy believed he could restore balance to the world and usher in an era where instinct alone would rule; for in the absence of wit and conscious, what would there exist to divide between good and evil? When judgement abates, the distinction falls, and Man is ruled only by his predation. A 'thing' who cannot judge and acts solely by some bestial intents is incapable of spite, hatred, and thereby more Man than men who, in their wit and grand consciousness, willingly drive themselves into acts of evil.
And when Viedrick looked upon the world, he saw a moat tainted by the vices of an untrue humanity that branched from its nature; Perversion, justless murder, forced adultery. It was marked that the world was in true need for purification. He envisioned a place where the beasts of old, 'true' shapes of men would rise once more, and the corruption that had become of mankind would be washed away, come upon by their forgotten instinct.
Months passed, and the pilgrimage of Viedrick Godefroy came to an end. As he made return to the sanctuary of his people, the skies above opened, unleashing a cleansing rain.
And when he crested the final hill overlooking his once-thriving haven, he was met with dancing shadows and reaching limbs of flame. The church and vicarage he had so painstakingly constructed lay washed by fire, reduced to charred timber and black smolder. An oppressive silence weighed heavily upon the village, save for when the wind howled and the fires sang.
As he made way deeper into the remains of his place, the reality of his predicament began to set in. Not only had his church been razed to the ground, but each last trace of his ideology had been expunged. The writings and artifacts that bore witness to his beliefs were gone. The man felt a touch of metaphorical death, for the very purpose of his remanence in this world had been snuffed out.
The rain continued its descent, and he fell to his knees, throwing pitted hands above his head, calling upon the divine through a gap in the heavens for guidance in what was his darkest hour.
"Oh, divine providence, one true God, grant me arms with which to wade through this struggle, and eyes by which to see thy ordinance to fruition," His voice was a desperate howl, muted by the deluge. "I have devoted my life and spilt endless blood to your cause- do not let me be swayed unto inaction. Help me rebuild, help me restore the balance that has been lost. Help me rebuild, help me restore.. oh, oh, one God."
As he uttered his plea, lightning struck with a deafening crack, its blinding flash announcing the desolate verdict sung from above. The bolt had hit the ground beneath a gnarled old tree, revealing a shallow grave that seemed to have been dug in anticipation of this very moment. It was as if the heavens themselves had guided him to his final task, and ruled his fate at long last; a self-imposed penance for the devastation that had struck his prophecy, a means by which to atone for his failure to bring about the rebirth of the true Man.
Indeed, the grave seemed to beckon to him, urging the man to surrender all hope into the cold embrace of the earth. With heavy heart, the Vicar abided to higher will and stepped toward the final sepulcher, his footsteps echoing the solemn rhythm of rain. And when the rain continued to fall, the grave seemed to grow larger, hungry for the sacrifice it demanded.
Viedrick Terzieff Godefroy lowered himself into the ditch, blood pounding into his ears with a rhythm that echoed the storm above. The walls of the grave closed in around him, and the darkness turned absolute.
In his end, the Vicar of Aemesh, feared as a shifting beast among stray sheep when his kind were alone the true meaning of human, prayed for a hurtful, atoning end upon all who claim themselves to be men in a world of seething abominations.
SpoilerI wonder if this is the true end
8 -
A shoal of darkness enveloped an aging man in wavering shadow, upon which streaks of fire approached defiant, only to cower back and dissipate. In the absenceness of warmth and mind, this man revelled in a peace meted out only by the forsaken cold. Indeed, his state of being was a call to an age immemorial, whence Man was unruptured by his borrowed wisdom, and the fickle want to challenge instinct. They roamed a sunless earth knowing and true to their firstborn purpose, with mind only for the continuity of body and clarity in being.
They were not beasts, with ravaging dissent for all that is living - nor were they wronged men, despiseful of all manner and scruple, as lore had unrightly deemed; but they were the true Man, as Man was firstly created upon the dawn of darkness, within the glory of an age that had spurned light and its gangraneous influence. And Man, as genesis had him, was guided by unerring instinct. He was guided by that which was pure and raw; which confessed no unnatural bias, nor hatred, nor malice. And how could the heart know and concede to hatred, if it forgate all semblance of duality and deferred only to the originality of the World - of genesis, and of singularity? Without duality, hatred is the rule, and cannot even be defined evil without benevolence in reign.
They are not beasts who merely relent to their accord, as willed by God, and are the progeny of the ancient Man. But they are beasts who forsake their origin, break the seal of predation, and through the mastery of stolen flame and wisdom, seek to make themselves in blasphemy akin with God. Such is the sin of the Modern Man, and such are the grounds under which they must be deemed prey, hunted, and solemnly felled, with their blood rightfully let for all the earth to see. If the transition from Man to Beast owes its advent to the Sin of Abandonment, then all sin will be tarnished and devoured. The earth will be upturned, and so-called beasts - Vargyr - will stand as Martyrs upon the corpses of those whom they hunt - who are true beasts, tainted by their ignorant sin. And so Vargyr walk their unceasing path, to shoulder and consume the sins of the World and be sacrificially shaped by it (et. Metamorphosis), for only then shall the Modern Man grow wings of blood with which to rejoin divinity and depart an earth then riddled by death.
5 -
A shoal of darkness enveloped an aging man in wavering shadow, upon which streaks of fire approached defiant, only to cower back and dissipate. In the absenceness of warmth and mind, this man revelled in a peace meted out only by the forsaken cold. Indeed, his state of being was a call to an age immemorial, whence Man was unruptured by his borrowed wisdom, and the fickle want to challenge instinct. They roamed a sunless earth knowing and true to their firstborn purpose, with mind only for the continuity of body and clarity in being.
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A lone eye pries upon the shore from afar, praying that their bloodbath was merely an advent to an end. He mourned this fall, and awaited that soon-coming dawn.
3 -
22 hours ago, Jentos said:
Carl Yung
Based
2 -
They hang upon walls, those apoplectic words, inscribed of ink.
"Elf and Man construct a covenant of void to challenge god, but find that they stand on the precipice of destruction, for they conspire to become two in oneness and apart of god, and what is apart of god becomes shrouded in darkness. Seek the kingdom of earth, seek to make thyself akin with god, and slather the stones with their godless blood.
Our Martyr lives, truly he lives."
- Aemesh, those accursed with inaction.
"Seek us in sites of worship."
8 -
I want to witness stories fit for depiction in shakespearian fuckin novels.
I want realism through fiction, I want tales the likes of which superstitious bishops of the 1600s would write their radical thesis about to instil respect for the purgatory light of god through kindling a fear of the deep woods, the untangible dark and the looming boogeymen into the minds of men,
or keep their wives homebound and fearful of taking to the outside
I want yharnam, salem and gomorrah intertwined, fear to have meaning, death to be feared, and life to be madly clasped dear, superstition and human unease to take shape and manifest further superstition, fallacies, unfounded beliefs, to inspire old wives' tales and cultivate life into this barren world
if that is not too much to ask, good men
4 -
"Whether false are his words or borne in verity, Man shall always conflate wickedness with the righteous, and spurn that which is novel to court the flesh of convience. Truth is bartered and supplanted by the accursed among men; the First Prophet has passed Truth, but the touch of His false offspring diluted its essence. Seek not truth within written text nor rely on human exegesis, oh son of Man, but find the one who inhales while you live, and you will not die, but you will seek to gander upon him and you will not bear witness, for the picture is not the paint, but is hidden within canvas; Our Martyr liveth, truly liveth. The Lamb of Aemesh foresworn in native script may come in any form, as any race, from any bloodline, and he breaks the yoke in self-sacrifice, and allows the beasts of men to selflessly feast so that he may die and they live; and those who come to know him wheresoever shall not taste death, and he shall be thought mad in that age of decadence.
We afford thus the proclaimed prophet a chance to make manifest his miracles."
Godefroy, a bald and jaundiced emissary, recites tales of prophecy and wisdom to twelve disciples. In the end, he cautions his men not to disbelieve nor believe in exiles and outcast heretics without basis in fact. The martyr cometh, now or later, truly or falsely, and he brings reparation to the irreparable.
6 -
A priest extols the work of his foremost disciple.
2 -
how long do you estimate before the absolution of power corrupts absolutely
and is there a specific design in mind for the way **** is conducted that you wish to impose in the long-run?
4 -
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xANYzv2YC7s
"For generations since the roots of society were founded, folks’ inevitable actions played into the hands of the Devil by, more or less consciously, providing stimulus to his dissemination of status and relevance in common canonist culture. The first of these can be identified with the growing negligence of this phenomenon, by believing that it is a trivial fact of no significance or consequence, where which the devil's plot is deened a kind of clown’s game or stage-play whose possible depravity can nevertheless be tolerated, especially by those who bear the sickness of inhuman blood - or as they were once labeled by mankind itself, the lesser races of this world.
There are cults and droves of devil-yoked men that do not wish to claim affinity with all that is godless and daemonic and which allege, for example, to exercise unholy rites for the sole and 'modest' purpose of entering into unanimity with the supernatural forces of divinity contained in blood, death or even the abyssian void, but which in fact exhibit aspects that sanction their being categorized among the variegated realm of evilness and black occultism. Thus has Man now endangered himself beyond repair, with such pace that the holy name of God might soon return a stranger to this World."
- Vicar Godefroy, shepherd of the Aemesh, on Man's deprecation of the Devil and the growing practice of devilry
“The rich rules over the poor, and the borrower is the slave of the lender.”
[!] Several old posters are nailed crossways against tavern walls, within innkeeps and at the darkest of alleys - advertising a strange manner of service. The authors are unnamed.
The Gate of Eodun
“While still man desires, still he must sacrifice.”
"It shall hereby be known that the Gate of Edon now offers its contracts and thaumaturgic services for the man that is either rich or poor, and the peasant who has not yet the right coin with which to hire our favours. Some might no doubt think this for a fraud, call us cheaters, or heretical liars, but we promise, and swear solemnly on the Great God above that everything which we shall offer and you read represents the truth, only truth and nothing but the truth.
We offer on conditions of mutual agreement our right hand of aid, to repel that which is not desirable nor holy, and work upon granting that which you might so deeply desire at an indeed simple and unhefty price. Ask whatever it is you will, and the gate shall, by God’s will, fulfil. Those who desperately seek our services will come upon us where they look, know it they or not, whence we may discuss the terms of our deal under a watchful eye of the Heaven.
Come to us. Ask for the flightless crows, those who may only run, yet who alone know the path to the Gate."
SpoilerThis is an ST / Player-run hybrid event which long ago I tried spinning but had to cancel for an undisclosed cause. I will be trying my hand at it again starting May 7th, when the finals are over. Those who are interested in reaching out so that we can arrange for interaction at a later time may contact me via discord: Callixtus#6280
12 -
An eastern exile from the bygone lands of Yulthar stands against an anvil, striking defiantly with steel upon steel. As the night neared to an end, and as the softened-up folk of civilization drew their silken sheets to a taut, the blacksmith toiled unrestingly to forge cover and weaponry for his Metinan brethren.
When others sought rest, they eagerly awaited the rising sun to march into the shoal of peril.
7 -
An expert of anesthetic ointment and fragrant herbage speaks highly of Amell's services.
"May I trust that you have received the sedatives?"
2 -
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An expounder of the still-fiery flame for rebellion which first incited and later bound the men of Sedan by blood and soul ensconced himself upon a distant patch of earth, far removed from the shadows which the empire and its puppet state sordidly cast against the land.
He whittled restlessly at an old and tried blade, awaiting with unkempt fury the day they might rise again and extinguish the gangrene that drains the kingdoms of men from within.
3 -
We beg only thy mercy, Judaean lord
0 -
I'll see you soon in valheim, brother. o7
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1 hour ago, argonian said:
snip
While I will agree that the server today faces a great divide, the moral of it all is that this platform can be whatever you and your folks make of it. The community at large might not be so cooperative as once before, but with the right group of story-aligned friends the possibilities in terms of storytelling are practically limitless.
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Godefroy, incited by a keen longing to witness all his brethren rise from the lowly depths of human depravity, entertained the minister's return with spiteless heart.
"Men will always seek light, but only from the solace of far-cast darkness shall they find it."
2 -
In the beginning, they banned me for the entropy I roused.
But their humanity was without limit, for even in my malign boldness they granted me the chance to be reborn.
+1
2 -
"The death of Man's peace shall soon incite the death of heathenry. Let us watch, now, as the once-pacifist Church of the Modern Age deigns to battle the seed of its former frailty.
. . . Until then, we march in solemn vow to scourge the Godless."
The Vicar of the Aemesh speaks to those who would hear, and concusively forms the old mark of Lorraine.
4 -
[Sorvian] [CA] Ypsis
in Accepted Creature Apps
Posted
MC Name:
Ypsis
Character's Name:
Akenzaemon
Character's Age:
Ageless
Character's Original Race (N/A if not applicable):
N/A
Transformed form:
Sorvian
Creator's MC Name:
omen_prince
Creator's RP Name:
Wave-maker
Briefly explain the lore behind this construct or creature:
The Sorvian is an entity born by Man, and Akenzaemon is one shaped in His likeness to embody the human origin in ways from which men have long since dissociated, taken afar by the great delusion that was to rise above their intended nature. He, as all his kindred are, is borne consciousness by the act of 'incanting', whereupon the blood of his life-giver is etched poetically on mask to pass on life in its barest form. The path for awakening reaches fruition when the blood-etched mask rests upon a lifeless frame in the likeness his creator intended, and ordered by will into life. And as the life-bearer giveth, so may he give again, lending credence to the courteous bond between sculptor and sculpted, God and Man; a sculptor is able to reform his creation and put to rights any disfigurements that may be imposed during its given life. And indeed, even seeming 'death' can be reversed when they are deprived of head or soul (by puncturing the chest, and waiting for its dissolution over the course of five emotes), a distinct leverage the clayborne have on men who are without Godlike paternity. The claymen are, in origin, weak, for they are a bloodless creature with little in the way of corporeal defence, but their deprivation gives way to an edge. They possess a reduced sense of pain, and with it an impenetrable will to defy frailty and struggle toward their purpose. They do not feel age, their pristine 'skin' does not sag with the wind, and for that they can be said to have achieved what Man has always fell short of in the way of seen perfection. And since they are in truth soulless while possessing of their psuedo-soul, they may never truly wield magick, maintaining an inherent antipathy with all which attempts to raise the living above their purposed nature.
If this construct or creature has some form of aesthetic choice, can you describe how they look?
Undecided style of mask, but the form is otherwise man-like.
Do you have a magic(s) you are dropping due to this app? If so, link it:
No
Do you agree to keep Story writers updated on the status of your magic app?:
Yes
Are you aware that if this creature is shelved, your character may be given the option to revert or be indefinitely shelved?
Yes
Memey RP or using this CA for subpar villain/bandit RP can lead to your app being denied, even after acceptance. Please put "I understand" as your response once you have read this part and understand the consequences.
I understand
Have you applied for this creature on this character before, and had it denied? If so, link the app:
No