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  • Birthday 10/11/2001

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  1. No, seriously, where is Telos?
  2. Banned


    Lup'Zagbal [The Eastern Jungle, Circa 63 SA.] Darkness encapsulated the Eastern Jungle, faint corsucations of light danced wildly across marred bark and rotten soil; The Bear looked out from beneath her cowl, forged to resemble the countenance of an Orc, muttering incantations in a language thought long lost to the annals of history. Thick mists coiled around the Bear’s masque, rising up from a small censer in her lap, embers spanning a strange herbal concoction. “Zagbal: dâg ob Freyguuth, Ilzgûl ob ghaamp agh gazog - horn agh isl.” The Bear rasped again and again, inhaling the wafts of vapor with each breath. Thin columns of light shined down, illuminating portions of the site; The tell-tale reds and oranges of fires dance against a great monument, verdant hides dangle from its length. The remaining leaves rustled with the breeze, and the distant call of birdsong echoed throughout the jungle. “Zagbal, dâg ob Freyguuth: lat blûg grazadh, lab tau iz darûkûrz. Kinul, Goth ob baga, darg-tab snagas n’u’lab tau.” The Bear bellowed, chalky fumes amalgamating about their worldly facade. A solemn pause, seizing a moment to reflect. The voices of the Ilzgûl had all but been null for the former Uluamirzgai, shunned for their past transgressions; Having damned plenty of Zagbal’s ilk into her Ismuth Anchor, the Bear grasped that her efforts could be in vain, a wasted effort. “Brus’izg sharr-lab rulum uzg, skûm’lab grazadh - krailab nûl. Izg golm izubu naakh, Zagbal; Ilzgûl ob ghaamp agh gazog - horn agh isl, dâg ob Freyguuth. Amirz'ub ghûlb’lab uzg? Amirz'ub atish’lab ghaamp roz? Lab ghaam gull? Amirz'ub ghûlbtau'slaiûrz?" She’d begun stoking the embers within her censer, guiding the miasma beneath her cowl. Expulsed with each exhale, plumes of smoke ran down her physique, spewing forth from behind her masque. "Lab uzg kulthagûrz agh asht, amol much tik kramp lat nargzab u af'kraat ik lat mauk'krut?" She had cracked, a thunderous tone sent rolling across the jungle floor, reverberating off of sullied timber and moss-stricken stone. "Lab matûrz naakh kramp'nar snagh, agh zatal izg zaug’golm izubu tabz. Izg golm lat za bûth." She'd return the censer to its rightful place, filling her figure as she rose. Silence. This revelation was not foreign to the Bear, having sought absolution in the past, only to be left wanting. Perhaps, this time, things would be different; a weak Spirit requires all the allies it can muster, and Zagbal's influence is fleeting at best.
  3. Banned


    A breeze weaves its way through vine and branch, carrying with it a faint echo of unknown origin - "...Lup'Zagbal..."
  4. A message has been left upon various loose sheafs of bark, drafted in the blood of a jungle creature. "This Jungle will not die. You may distort it, your works may bring change to it, but you will never kill it. You require its resources to sate your needs, much like the bee requires sustenance from the mountain-laurel. You wrought a fungus that has already begun to spread, an expanse of fungal wilds from which a new forest will grow."
  5. "Who remains for you to be heard?" Questioned a figure of yore, draped in age-old fabrics. They scanned the missive for a few moments longer, ultimately ripping it from the very bark it was pinned to. The figure crumpled up the missive, stuck it in their satchel, and continued on into the twilight.
  6. @Telanir Can you take me to Christmas Land?

  7. No. Sorry, but it’s already been sullied by the previous community.
  8. Riklaumeth, a blind prophet of yore awakens from the caress of his of slumber, sweat painting his visage. That which was painted across his subconscious workings had, oddly, disturbed this rather calm and uncaring half-blood. He rises from the comforts of his leafy spread, and equips himself for the journey ahead. It took only moments before his den was empty once more, the moonlight guiding his way. Bel’ra, a once fallen shaman of yore, appeared rather preoccupied with her prayer to an undisclosed Spirit, however, fleeting imagery and gnarled sounds made waves across her senses. She stared off at the center-mass of the gargantuan totem of which she found herself regularly, the entirety of her being frozen as she watched the events play out before her. This vision, it came about suddenly, and fled without notice – She sat idle for a time, even after the prophetic vision faded from her cerebral workings, no verbal response was ushered forth from her core. She remained in a state of deep thought, hoping that this was the work of a Spirit of Knowledge that she had been in service to.
  9. Bel’ra looks to Varan, “Called it.”
  10. “You have seen how it turned out for any who did not want to hear...” Spoke Donovich, shaking his head in disappointment. “...How many more of my brother’s and sister’s must die, fighting your war, Emperor? Anyone with half a brain, even if he has no faith, understands what I preached before is true, but those who do not believe it, if you look carefully, either they are utterly lacking in refined reason, or they are obstinate and entirely blinded by evildoing. Recall how many lives were lost. A war the Demon, the self-proclaimed Emperor of Man has thrust upon our peoples, and not even God can free us from the dangers that plague he, and if I were to recount them all to you, you would be stupefied. I would like you to know, truly, that all my repeated saying and crying out to you, my brethren, seems to have fallen upon deaf ears and, as a result, the blood of our kinsmen seeps into the soil this day. I asked of you all, ‘’Is our Emperor just?’’, and it seems only few have recognized the answer. Those who have light have come to realize it, and those to whom GOD has given the light of the most Holy Grace have shown signs of knowledge, denouncing this Imperial campaign. War has come, and fear is rampant in the hearts of my brethren, though the Emperor spews the venom: ‘’Let death come as it may, for I am prepared; that death which is preceded by a good life is not evil.’’ But, I do not see the Emperor taking the place of the thousands of lives lost, but of course, I knew he wouldn’t – No Man of God would ever sacrifice his peoples like this, and as I told of you, our Emperor knows naught of God, for he praises the Demons below. ‘What will it matter?’ Is what he asks himself, whilst growing obese on the potatoes and meat served to him as he lingers about his throne. I can answer his pondering, for I know the sin of Man and, a Man that would cast his peoples into slaughter is a Man of Sin: War, it is momentary, but for whom? It is momentary for those who have been given the Grace of God; he can support it because he is strong. But, this war is not momentary for our peoples – Our Emperor knows no God, and he hasn’t his Grace-One without the Grace of God cannot bear it because he has no strength. The infirm cannot bear it. Thus, the tribulations will seem heavy to the sheep of the shepherd without the Grace of God, when compared to those who do.” Preached he, once more, though he knew nobody listened, and those that would have already fled the Empire, knowing all too well that this war would damn each soldier who fought for a Godless Emperor. “Take sight of the war-torn field, notice the rotting corpses of our kinsmen. It is a strong mental image: that time is short, and the tribulations we endure for this Emperor are not worth it.”
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