Callistus

Take care, man.

A foreign-blooded vicar mourns the death of an old friend.

"Acts induced by beasthood are not always foolish, and deeds sown by men are not always benevolent. Regardless, one must always strive for goodness."

A martyr remarks, enthroned on a great seat of ice that dares not to melt.

"Our conciliation among that which binds us to this earth will bare to us the true roots of Man; and in rekindling the ancient concord which dwells our blood, Man will rise from ignoble ash to be granted purpose, and thereby endless posterity.

Such is the mandate imparted unto our foolish race, so furtively abandoned by men who scorn the heavens and those who reside above it all. Aesh dea, ae kikimorr - good schoolman."

A man spoke in words that rung with great vacillation, and yet conviction; for it was at the very least acknowledged that no mere living scholar can achieve true corroboration...

But with perseverity, and the ever-churning tides of death that vow to consume us all, Truth will be left no choice but to come forth and unearth itself. If not for our subconscious desire, both worldly and beyond, then by which sense of cruelty are we even borne our conscious and forced from the lull of sleep to wander this accursed world? 

Hah.. hah. What a sick joke, thought the old pilgrim, so deep in trance.

"Ah--

The saints, they whisper...

And it is quiet.

So, quiet."

The Vicar from forgotten lands awaited an unspoken miracle by the dregged shores of Almaris, brooding in silence over the fates of a people for whom salvation from torment was falsely sworn, and never delivered. Perhaps it was mere naivety that blessed their venture to restore the faith of mankind and rebreathe posterity into gospel, but in soon time they will war earnestly than see their doctrine all crumble to nought.

And as for the Vicar, age had eaten through the very husk of a man he once was, an impenetrable shell of priesthood from which he teased the incentive that enabled his passage into the present, leaving in the end only rivings of an obdurate still-living corpse. Indeed, that which in times past gave him motive was dwindling like ash, nearly lost; but that alone could not dethrone the man from the seat of life, for he remains amongst the forbidden to depart. He whom by solemn duty was pit into an accursed eternity to shepherd the wheel of faith and veneration to Godhood, was himself beyond the former wheel, and beyond the cycle entrusted him in mandates of the above-divine; for he could never hope to pass from this earth, not even when the time comes for all mortal-kind to rise and abandon the darkness left in their wake.

It was nothing short of martyrdom in life that the Aemesh strove to enact, but even so, men seldom persevere in any quest without reassurance, and a clear-cut path has yet to brand their eyes.

It was only once the sun and its lording light subsided deep below the upreaching currents of ocean-water - and beckoned the gibbous moon in its place - that the pilgrims made to depart, bound too by their solemn duty to wander the vastness of the earth, all to resume their venture past the disparities of contemporary Man and thus mend him from falsity.

"We men are truth-hungry beasts, and seek only purpose to guide us."

The leading pilgrim, Vicar Godefroy, lifted an age-eaten palm from the many sands, into which he had whispered a thousand blessings, and resumed the eternal passage from land to farther land.

"In the end, man always seeks light."

Let us see.

1 minute ago, Sham404 said:

I mean in vortex. Bronze ingots are made by mixing copper and tin ore, you dont mine bronze ore

He is deriding people that think bronze is an ore. Unless I misconstrued that.

5 minutes ago, Sham404 said:

There is no bronze ore. Bronze requires copper and tin ore together

Yeah that's what he said

8 minutes ago, ComicD said:

Was it really? I never had any issues with it nor heard about it.

That's because it did not directly affect mundane roleplay, but it definitely disintegrated the prospect of running a respectable trade (at least for me) because money amounted to nothing and everyone was so self-sufficient that the existence of **** like smithies was deemed negligible. It was just dogshit.

nice meme

25 minutes ago, ComicD said:

Economy wasnt an issue to be fixed yet here we are

what? 

alright I know the narrative here is to go against everything related to the plugin, but there is no denying that the economy was absolutely fucked last map.

3 hours ago, KamikazeReaper said:

 so i have to ask, do we have other options instead of using a bank to store dat cash?

Invest in reliable valuables like gold (or whatever is the lotc equivalent) and stow them somewhere safe.

12 hours ago, InfamousGerman said:

me after waiting an irl week to get enough energy to craft one(1) suit of armor

This is unironically one of the few things that are good about the plugin. It incetivitizes players to wisely choose their fights because weaponry and armaments are actually worth something, and discourages duels founded on an unrealistic silly bunnyboy mentality by which death means nothing. Fights do not come with dirt-cheap repercussions anymore.

"... Curse them, those children of the vacuous blood, and curse the very earth on which they reside."

"The folk are ornery, their town is damned... I hear beastly pleas in the distance. The moon is gibbous and waning, every door is shut tight - it must be it, that scourge, that accursed night."

Rumors are spread by ominous word of mouth of the pestilent fate which has recently depredated the province of Johnstown and the abandoned war-camps extant beside it, a fate eager to upend the sanctuary of the land by forcibly turning men into monstrosities and enveigling foreign beasts that had no right even converging upon the mortal sphere, yet whom were enabled to do so by the cataclysmic eviction of balance which ensued soon after the downfall of a God and, inevitably, the balance through which he once guarded the worlds from external forces of entropy.

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Synopsis

The following information - excluded from the forementioned paragraph above - is scarcely known to anyone that has not witnessed the state of the town first-hand and become privy to its events, and serves only as an OOC backdrop to garner your interest. Use this knowledge wisely.

Grant us death, waste our blood, cleanse us of this horrible fate; such were the words desperately recited by the forsaken denizens of Johnstown for days on end and in drudging repitition when the threat that railed upon them was not yet known to the rest of the land, and when the town - and all the tidings within it - was withdrawn from all communication, beset by its own unwalked borders.

After the transpiration of world-encompassing tragedies of nature following the cataclysm that came with the death of Gazadriel - and of the wheel which he himself had put in place by way of enforcing control over the wide realms of mortals - the balance and safety he had also ensured in doing so was felled, allowing into the realm an onset of entropy which was long ago confined from exit and shackled to where it truly belonged; in the avaricious abyss where everything resided that was not endemic to the world.

It was thus that the wretched infestation of beasts upon Johnstown - a once-abandoned riverside province which in times even predating the disaster was known to harbor exoticism - staked its claim over the land and made it serve as an epicenter from which they threatened to volute endlessly until the entirety of Arcaes had either drenched itself in blood, or become smothered by their beastly influence; a cause for which the finalization only demanded more beasts to ordain the expansion, by emerging from their baleful "glimmer points" to feed on those whom they come across in their duty to invigorate the putrid sickness, and spread it through the rest of the languished earth beyond the reach of Johnstown.

The denizens themselves who still reside in town, stubborn enough not to depart from home or merely incapable to join their brethren in desertion, are in the path of exigency, whereupon they become bound to either lie among the dead, or succumb as martyrs to the nameless ailment which equates them to those flesh-hungry beasts that defy the sleep of death.

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OOC note:

This event is free for all to attend and will be active in the next ten days before the map comes to an end. Any major changes (if any) that occur will be made known in the form of commentary updates in the same post.

For contact, reach me at Callixtus#6280

This culture ties heavily into the following post

If you wish to discuss involvement in this unfinished project, feel free to message me at Callixtus#6280

While knowledge of the existence of the land of ‘Abrath’ can be assumed by those who wish for originative association, the reality comprised in its events is far from ‘common’ and cannot be expropriated into roleplay. People can look to these lands as Christians to Sodom and Gomorrah; there is an allegory, or biblical fate to be drawn from them that urges men to take heed, but the details as they will be described in the following text remain unknown to most scholars.

Inclusive knowledge on the subject can only be found in roleplay, and any ‘leads’ cannot be adopted without basis.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q4T1xF6s8MQ

“... Thou hast abandoned creed for sin, and became thyself accursed;

Covetous upon each lamb, each beast of the field

For flesh thou shalt beg and crave,

As ash eateth away the life from thy beastly soul.”

Abrath is an accursed land, a defiled piece of earth ensconced by heathenry. It construes in foreign scripture the wrath God brings down upon dissidents from faith, and describes in likeness the all-encompassing desert which forbids green from growth, the wrath of heat that represses all life, the carnal beasthood which embodies in the primordial form of mortal-kind, and the presence of negation which rescinds itself and deprives its own environment from propserity. The Abrath was Godless as it was barren, and residence in it bred not only distance from faith, but also the opposite of faith: it was the realm of profanation, and it set the precedent which enjoined upon holy men to either remain wary and stay true to course, or face the very wrath that once beset the ancient land.

Legendry inscribes the part-mythic land of Abrath with great import, for it comprised through both prophetic and existential meaning, and no path to contrition in allegoric text described the reality of Godsent justice against the faithless resign that prevails among men in the same way that the Abrath so viciously manages by its cautionary tale.

“In this war we wage against our own blood, we either rise victors, or watch as the rest of humanity succumbs to the very curse we once subdued.

... Thus do we slave, to liberate mankind from its boundless immaturity.”

- Vicar Godefroy

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Preface

In times of old, the distant land of Abrath was steeped in great darkness, and the need for the mantle of theism to preside as a staple of concord which binds together earth and heaven was one long abandoned by its people. Farther yet prevailed the pathless crags and great mountains of Aemesh, which forbade passage to foreigners and exiles, and where the earth itself was bled by the depravity accumulating in its ever-growing seas of poison that fed upon the vice of mortals residing above. It was said that sin finds forgiveness in all parts of the world, but not Abrath, and so all the sins absolved by humanity head toward that growing cesspit wherein the malice of the earth converges, and rests in final sepulchre until the time comes for the World to unform and become shrouded by night.

The Long Scourge

Vast storms of blood and miasma threatened to cleanse the land from its ignoble rot, but Man remained heedless, and soon came to reap the seed of his inaction. The inevitable curse was branded into existence by power unknown to mankind, and sacrilege in its vilest form was manifest when hideous beasts set upon the bare earth to defile blood and flesh alike by cover of that moonless night. Soon enough, blood ruled the streets, and all men devolved into beasts whose wretched outsides came to reflect their ways of immorality; their inside. It was not until the land collapsed beneath an onslaught of thorough-cleansing flames that the scourge neared to subside, and beasts regained their bygone humanity, all but withdrawn from the capacity to sin.

The eldest of the foreign surrogate-beasts soon made covenant on earth, founding the first flock and becoming himself the First Vicar. With this long-lasting war and the great bloodbath which followed came an age of prosperity for the Aemesh, whereupon all vice was uprooted, and beasthood became exalted among men as an omen of impending clarity borne by the hand of God to enact his wrath, and restore the souls of men to their virtuous nature by infliction of fear and fire.

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"Mankind is built on the contradiction of duality; instinct and wisdom, beasthood and humanity, knowledge and ignorance. By opposing forces are they borne their strength, not unlike an arc in which every stone is imposed on the next. In men whose parts are wholly aligned and in accord, there is madness, and we call them madmen. Mortals walk a narrow path beside walls of contravention, and a man without the presence of negation is deprived, body and soul.”

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Transitory Period

The long night of surrogate-beasthood that pervaded the city induced great fear in the hearts of the people, where fear gave rise to conscience, and conscience expedited the cities into an era of Godliness and moral contrition, all driven by the so-called force of providence which sought to correct faithless mortals from their old ways. Though this night spared few from the dogged grips of frenzy and madness, it guided those whom defied death against the paths of divinity and sainthood. It championed the fear of Man against himself in the solemn duty to incite his blood-induced descent to knowledge, and thereby Truth.

To the Aemesh, something Godly resided in blood.

It was their witness of divine truth alone that finally invigorated this prospect, feeding as though fuel into strength and euphoric feeling alike. Once the urge was manifest, the assimilation of knowledge and desire finalized the transition - or metamorphosis - from Man, to something perhaps even greater.

It demaned only that the flesh was willing.

Abrathan

The Abrathians are considered foreign visitors to the land - unlike the Aemesh, who claim historic ancestry over it - but remain the only people accredited as rightful heritors to its ensacred name by virtue of their esoteric descent alone, which some believed was an act of God. To this day, they are known to followers of the Vicarage as righteous shepherds unto men, bestowed by providence the burden to ensure consistency across the faith of Mankind, and guard the first scriptures from interpretive opposition in an age where one could not trust even gospel to tell apart truth from falsehood. To this end, the Abrathians are nigh-exalted as elevated mortals that rank below prophets, but above ministers, and by analogy are akin to the Pontificate of the Mother Church (both clergies operate on diverse - but similar - capacity, under different leadership, and are alike in most principle canonist belief).

The Abrathians are ruled responsible for the nightmare that once ailed the city in enactment of divine mandate, and their descent on earth by surrogacy signified the beginning of the cruel baptism by bloodletting which stapled the land’s return from its Godless path. They are responsible in equal measure for the onset of that quaint madness, by which Aemeshites are well too known for.

Bullet Point Rundown

Your preface might work well for a culture oriented on psuedo-egyptian theism

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nlgh6Rh0mPk

A momentary spear of sunlight had pierced the clouds that quietly prevail over the province of Aegrothond, bringing an early end to the reign of darkness that once defied peace and vowed malice upon its war-torn border. While most opposition had faded, there was still fire that sunlight alone could not atone, and every last dissentious malflame in Aegrothond had coagulated in the fiends that endured the destructive siege.

With this intrusion of sunlight came hope, and hope had given way to a short-lived peace for the mortal brethren.

No true victor can claim might by inaction; reclamation over the remnant flame demanded an insurrection of mortals fit to snuff out the lingering malice of Yondo, once and for all.

CREATURE NAME - OBJECTIVE

The Cult of Yondo - Extermination

LOCATION

North of Aegrothond, by the old mountainous forge

THREAT LEVEL

Medium - Hard

(Based on approach)

REWARD

Liberation of the Aegrothondic Woodland, and three-hundred minae for each living victor

PROGRESSION SYSTEM (IF APPLICABLE)

As corpses pile up, proliferation of the insect-like species is greatly expedited.

However, methodical incremation (by holy fire) of both mortal and demonic cadaver will force the parasitic vermin into attrition.

“As the Siege of Aegrothond neared to an end, a cult of sentient polymorphic fiends was diverged from the central horde and driven by splinter-forces into the local woodlands, where it now resides in total secrecy. This remnant of the incursion imposes a great threat on the welfare of the region, and negligence might risk an increase of their bestial presence to alarming rates, such that we fear what might become of the once-thriving woodland and its local people.

We hereby enjoin upon any able men that are willing to take up arms and fend back against the expansive scourge to conclude the necessary preparations and carry an expeditionary force with due caution. The region might appear at first as an encampment for war refugees, but remain wary in your selective elimination of targets and keep an eye out for cautionary tales that might aid to tell apart hidden demons from real men. Once caught, and if not capably put down on the spot, the demons will revert to their viscous forms and lash out at any nearby men. In precautionary measure, we recommend the utilization of far-range weaponry in the initial phase of confrontation. If the beasts are not duly eliminated in their first secretive phase, there will ensue an increase in difficulty as the polymorphs revert in form; they will be entirely concealed in hard-wood - or other material that accommodates the environment - which acts as protective armor for the vulnerable flesh enclosed within. They will attack in hordes, and by way of rapid, elongated tongues that inflict, suffocate and stifle prey as though serpents. One must take care not to underestimate the range and influence of this projective strike, which acts akin to numbing poison that slowly corrodes at the flesh and burgeons throughout the circulatory system. Mortal victims might feel the urge to inflict others in the vicinity by way of physical contact, in which case it is preferable to either incapictate or extinguish the catalyst. This infectious force can be counteracted by antidotical or holy means, and in grave cases by an immediate amputation of the infected limb (This will prove redundant if the affected area is vital, as it kills the victim in the process).

If encircled and pushed towards defeat, the fiends are capable of excreting shrill cries that serve to disconcert any nearby sentinels or stationary marksmen. This can be significantly repressed if prepared for, however the resonance will not fully dissipate. The only reliable method to eliminate this breed of Inferi is by driving any sharp weaponry into an eye-socket, defiling the brain-like umbilical flesh which resides therein. A narrow-tipped spear is conventional to this end. To ensure thorough elimination, the mush that embodies the fiend must be ripped out like gangrene and put to holy fire or consigned to an inaccessible gravesite, lest it be cannibalized and regurgitated by other fiends of a kindred species.

No account presently exists on the number of remaining fiends, and it is recommended that the active parties keep record for later evaluative purposes.” 

An old vicar that had witnessed the foul poison of divergence slowly abscind mankind of its humanity and pit its once-prevalent sovereignty into decay could not exhort himself but to debate this matter among cohorts. For though he vowed by heart never again to intrude upon politics, grave age or great devotion alone could not urge this mere soul to turn the blind eye at the face of waning unity, growing devilry, and moral descent.

2 hours ago, Jentos said:

A foreigner named Jean kissed his balled fist, and offered the missive to an aged mentor before him. 

An elder of the transient vicarage that had long since branched from the canon – but which remains at its root derivative of the faith – warily read from the missive, and in turn could not help but assent with its belief. Viedrick and the brethren with whom he had migrated in solemn duty found their presence necessary only at the face of growing apostasy and man-borne devilry, which infectuously spread alike rot to eat at the mind of Man in the name of preposterous reason. He thereby writes in response, and brands the missive not in his name, but in that of his people.

”In our books, we the Aemesh acknowledge the advent of reason and mortal rationale as the poisonous scourge that it is, and are thoroughly aware of its Godless consequence. The pillars of faith that we now witness corrode in our very land, and amongst our very own, ought to frighten any sane or holy man. It is in precis the sin of vanity that brings rise to arrogant reason, and incites the foolish man to believe himself greater; to laud himself upon a pretentious pedestal, to contend against God, or attempt to wrest the concept of Godhood from its historic cradle. It is this pattern of degeneracy that first exhorted us to wander from the warmth and sanctum of our homeland to yours, for our noble seeking to uproot degeneracy and quench the flame of heathenry does not in any measure differ from yours. I duly acclaim this stance from my position as God’s Vicar to the Aemeshite flock, and will say, as I did once before, that a meeting of our peoples must be had in good faith; idolatry amongst our kith has now truly seen its culmination.”

”Ae indel, Kastafir.” This he spoke in conclusion to the foreign disciple of the School, ensuring thereafter that the missive is rightly consigned for delivery. Prostate before the exalted altar in Johnstown chapel, the priest made obeisance and called upon divine guidance.

A Vicar that presided over the chapel of old Johnstown, a village abandoned by beasts and men, ensured that no remnant or trace of the hideous symbol might prevail from the wrath of fire.

The migratory hordes of Aemesh find the greatest of affront in blasphemy, for riverside Johnstown is no true home to the Godless among men.

In all honesty, good roleplay stems from the mindsets involved and in my experience has ****-all to do with writing skill. Not to say that the latter has no effect on the advent of good roleplay, but it comes second to detachment from character and cannot perpetuate roleplay by its own merit. I have roleplayed with folks whose writing impressed on intuitive levels but which in the end could not impose anything significant on the progression of story or narrative.

Likewise, I collided with people whose english was subpar at best but that I could thoroughly attest to be more capable and contributive than any psuedo-intellectual contingent on his or her writing to stay afloat, and not because their english “had style”, but their mindsets and attitude toward roleplay and conflictive encounters are withdrawn entirely from any underlying motives that inevitably covet OOC interest. 
Good roleplay derives from interactions mature enough to enable fruitious story progression, regardless of any superficial qualities to the text, because impressive writing loses all credence once it is appropriated to beautify some half-assed attempt at bullshitting death, or circumventing a well-played disconnection. This doesn't mean you are obliged to die or lose at every turn, but once good writing becomes an excuse to negate consequence when well-aware that the opposite side has an upper-hand, any true value to the interaction greatly declines from there. It should not be a stepping stone for doddering degenerates who cannot handle fictional loss to justify dodging simultaneous strikes like some protagonist from berserk.

I used to be in the dark myself, and I know first-hand that quality alone cannot atone for poor mindsets, or suffice to create great stories which appease the participants and inspire respect. For good measure, perhaps try thinking encounters through from character – and not player – perspective, and stop worrying about oocly losing face. The most memorable occurences in this server almost always ensued after compromise.

“A man beckoning too deep into the night must beware that the night itself is not beckoned.”

- An excerpt of the Vicar’s latest sermon

 Johnstown, c. 1783

WE PEN UPON THIS HERE NOTICE A PROCLAMATION THE WHICH GRAVITY DEMANDS GREAT ATTENTION

A war of brute strength so foolishly waged against the demonic incursion has brought, and continues to bring upon our herds naught but loss and bloodshed, that even now God’s rain mingles amongst flesh and death persists to defile the ranks of the living.

One cannot deny without slighting reason itself that our cause to be crowned victors in battle is deprived of all hope without providence to intervene, and this is made all the more vain by the reality that the only path afforded to us is shepherded by, and reliant on the pretentious likes of Azdromoth and his unsightly flock of heathens.

Likewise, one cannot rightly seek salvation from Korvassa’s flame, only to invoke the very lords of Fire and turn upon God’s name. Fools alone resort to the insult of faith by vowing to the stolen light and the Fire so usurped by accursed dragonkin.

Thus, we of the Aemesh in condemnation of both beastly threats do hereby enjoin upon the faithful left among mankind to converge at the side of our clerics to the woods of Johnstown beneath the coming half-moon, that in unison we may ask of God’s mercy and invoke a miraculous end to this sickness and those who inflict it alike poison unto blood.

Let us pray in the way of our forefathers. Let His Light provide us sanctum.

Let the only righteous flame prevail, and kindle this curse-rotted earth.

“Fearlessly shall we brave the will of Yulthar.

Their blood shields us.

Prescience and strength we shall conjoin.”

...

“The truce is broken. Our vigil pales. The beasts cannot be kept at bay.”

Beneath the clouds that gathered high, silence reigned.

Where demons once overturned the ashen earth of Yulthar, there now stood culminations of undivided battle; rotting piles sown through an endless war waging for years amongst fiend and man. Blood of the old and young alike drenched the streets, and so none remained to nourish the blood-starved beast. The flesh-ailed city was at last brought to its end, cleansed and bled thoroughly of all its mortal filth; for beneath the clouds that gathered high, silence reigned, and the all-absorbing darkness of the abyss settled to preserve the old corpse.

Abandoned by its people, darkbound Yulthar was home now only to the dead. 
 

The Exiles of Yulthar

Long after the incursion, there spread staggering tales of a migrant people who, through their perfidy of both mental poise and honor, verged into uncomposed madness and absconded duty as one of a lost cause. The oathless relics of the Yultharan conglomerate converged later into blood-diversive tribes who wander from part to part through foreign land hardly reminiscent of their own, yearning for the unquenchable demon-hunt which still eats at them from within.

“Pity those wanderers seeking the incite of death.

Minds shattered, souls trapped in that damned city.

Make no peace with vagabonds, for they know no oath.”

The exiles of Yulthar is the name coined upon Yultharan migratory clans which not long before the city’s downfall came to wander foreign parts of Aeldin, and lately Arcas. The call of the hunt always beckoned, but wary of the fate of their old land, they instead took to prying at other parts of the earth in search of the beast-blood’s thrill. Their broken devotion to the cause of ancestry did not cease to wrest their doubts and wavering fears from within, invigorating madness amid reluctance and bringing out the hideous nature of Yulthar to light. This lends credence to the foul repute of dementia gleaned by the wandering folk across most land.

This beast-borne contortion or madness indented upon the mind of all survivors coaxes into them a frenzy most comparable to shell-shock, at times inciting the brash warriors to strike unwisely but in manners which forbade all prediction. This arbitrary pattern assimilated even into their discourse and initially denied the Yultharans any chance for negotiation with the local rulers, until word of their intensity in battle swiftly spread and gave testimony to the vigor of this fluctuant people in all but reason and predictability.

Synopsis - Origin

The origin of Yulthar dates as far back as to the first convergence sworn by two Eastern clans of elves and men, whose conformity and despair at the face of periodical feuds within the region led them to decide upon the consolidation of two peoples under one banner, giving form in finality to the Gods-accursed lodge of Yulthar and the tragedy that soon followed in a city now deserted by beast and man. Prior to contemporary times and not long after the congregation, the chosen region of Yulthar unwittingly pit unsightly beasts against the Oyashiman colonials in continuous battle which frothed for centuries without forespeakable end, instigating the basal root of their culture to revolve upon ruthless ways honor-bound by blood, and thereby mold into one orientated through the life-long hunt braved by all Yultharans until the offset of beasts inevitably induced the remaining denizens toward the brink of decay. Many faltered to madness while others outlived their demise, but even those who did continue to reveal demented signs of their unescapable belonging to the old city, which immortally claims over their lives and fate.

Present

When the aged warriors wandered without aim from land to land and incised their decisive mark across the continents, the erstwhile Duke of Kaedrin cultivated an interest in their quaint way and invoked the few remnants of the Lodge to shore, where they now toil silently in fulfilment of an unfinished duty.

The tribe which convoked on the mainland was led by Kenjin Taishi and Tetsuo, both with origins that date back to an old fishing village whence Yulthar was an infested conjecture point for all manner of Yokai.

A lone warrior salutes the departing Duke

“Furthermore, Carthage Fenn must be destroyed.”

“By decree of the enshadowed, thou shall not be granted passage.”

Far to the darklit reaches and hyperborean depths of a cold land abandoned by sunlight, impending evil awaited birth by sacrilege at the hand of an occult tribe abound old woods, accosted by defiant devil-flames cultivating even within the taigan frost.

Nearer to the provenance of this sabbath, inaudible chantry could be heard below the earth, where hideous shrieks made clear by shifts in the wind deposed one clear phrase;

The second child will soon be born.