Diogen

I feel like you haven't read the lore at all The effects of losing warmth 1) disables their casting, 2) makes them look obviously dark-adjacent, 3) makes them go mentally coo coo to the point of wanting to touch literal sources of fire in a desperate attempt to regain warmth. seeing as how this FA is mostly flavor than anything else, as their abilities are really just. instead of carrying a weapon you can conjure it out of ice with similar properties but objectively worse due to its weakness to fire, an ice bandaid and finally an ability that allows you to partake in rituals. i don't believe that giving them a harsh feeding mechanic beyond mental detriments / flavor would be healthy for the FA also good points to both you and @Turbo_Dogon the cooldown thing. also, disconnection requires CONSENT from the jokul unless it's their own mother, because this is a FA that serves as a form of trial period for the most part for the fjarriagua, where they get a taste of the CA, but also not fully, so they get to actually be involved in things and do things, while serving as a new niche altogether for the coven before they know whether to fully commit, or if they wanna stay as an FA and fill another niche, or just dip altogether. there WILL be cases where a mother has accidentally recruited a jackass, requiring her to disconnect that jokul later down the line. keep in mind, only that jokul's Mother can disconnect them without consent. everything else requires consent also who goes through the trouble of cursing people for an FA, making them join a ritual, then have to go through the entire ordeal that is having to disconnect them afterwards and contact the ST to keep them up to date on their FA? that's so mindblowingly stupid i didn't even think of it as a possibility yh, adding cooldown and the FA freeing up slot after PK rn to the FA, gimme a moment to update it

“Come, sit ‘round. Scratch flint to tinder, kindle hopeful flames. Listen well, though, through breaking wind and shrieking hunger. Learn to fear the Winter’s appetite.” -Sif, the Liar. - A most unholy curse, that of the Fjarriagua; a curse, that freezes one’s soul, forever trapping both body and soul in an eternal cryostasis in the realm, turning them into horrible frost creatures. Witches, casting an endless cycle of misery, projected upon the poor Descendants. Yet, with such a potent curse, a Mother thought to herself- what if, rather than fully transforming a being, only a mere fraction of the curse was shared? A curse, enough to warp their mentality, granting them but a fraction of what they may potentially become. A way for them to climb through the ranks, allowing their respective Mother to oversee them, and to judge whether they are any capable. To judge, whether they are deserving of the full blessing. And so was the first Jøkul created. One still within life’s reach, yet warped, at their very core. An entity, that is no longer seen as an enemy nor food, but rather one of their own. A knight, a soldier who may carry out their Mother’s wishes, capable of putting more risk into their work. The beginning of a Jøkul’s journey involves a pact, one between the Witch and the Mortal. A pact, a promise of power, a way into their coven. However the Fjarriagua convinces the poor, mortal soul into such an agreement, begins with a mere handshake. A handshake, that will forever leave a bruise-like mark upon their palm. The curse now dormant within their soul. The activation of such a curse requires the completion of the Descendant's quest, as agreed by the pact. Only then, upon its fulfilment, may the curse then take ahold of their soul, beginning its course, yet to a much lesser degree, inflicting them with minimal changes to their body, unlike the physical attributes of the Fjarriagua. Their teeth do not grow sharp, their body isn’t rendered icy. Rather, the only visible change at first is the hue of their eyes, turned blue. A hue, that may no longer be changed. Yet, the curse requires fuel. But unlike their greater counterpart, it strives for Warmth. Starting with their innate Warmth at the start of their transformation, over the course of [2] OOC weeks, that warmth may only be refueled through either the sapping of one’s Warmth. Red Lines Immediately they began to feel the effects of the Mark, a portion of their soul rendered frozen, shifting their body. Eyes turned uncanny blue in hue. As their Warmth begins to drain, through either casting magics or by going too long without the devouring of raw meat or flesh, the lack of such warmth begins to surface upon their body, depending on the amount of it that they lack. No changes are made to their physical strength upon being granted the curse. Although, their slow-coursing blood similar to a slowly melting ice allows them to have an easier time than the typical Descendant when it comes to bleeding out, being around 1/3rd of the pace of a typical bleeding out Descendant. Their heartbeat rendered slightly slower, although not to a noticeable degree, requiring them to breathe about 1/3rd of the pace of a normal Descendant to match the slow-coursing blood. A Jøkul may only possess a maximum amount of [6] Warmth units. [5+] Warmth units: Appearance is fully mundane. Blue eyes remain. [4] Warmth units: Slight discoloration on their extremities, such as their fingers, ears and lips. Skin is no longer warm in sensation, but rather off, as if hypothermic. [3] Warmth units: Mild patches of discoloration appear throughout their skin as if bruised, lips and extremities now tinted purple. Skin is as cold as a corpse. [2] Warmth units: Frostbite is apparent on their body, as if they are mildly frostbitten. [1] Warmth units: The frostbite looks severe in nature, with cracks akin to cracks on glass on their skin, ears, extremities and lips. [0] Warmth units: They look ghoulish, as if edging between life and death itself, their body looking horribly frostbitten, their cheeks turned inwards, eyes radiating in a dim, blue glow. Red Lines The descent into the icy embrace of Icedom ravages not just the body but also the mind. Madness encroaches the boundaries of the Jøkul's psyche. A battle between their humanity and the Curse, the Jøkul are prone to emotional instability, bouts of guilt, and even depression, loneliness, or even going as far as to purposely isolate themselves from those they used to hold dear, in favor of those who share their cold-blooded nature. Rather, seeing their new kin as family, while keeping those within their previous, fully-mortal state away from arm’s reach, at an emotional level. Their mental health only continues to grow worse in the case of having no Warmth to fuel them, gradually obsessing over it as their ravenous hunger for that Warmth worsens as they reach [3] units and below, causing them to fall into bouts of utter rage, sometimes even lashing out at minor inconveniences, making them yearn to regain such heat through external means. A cycle of drops and rises in emotional stability depending on how well-fed their Curse is, a mere fraction of the sheer torment that the Fjarriagua undergo. Yet their mental sanity is only put further to the test, as they become one with ice, yet striving for Warmth. Heat, making them uncomfortable, yet addictive to their soul. Almost as if a drug, that they find themselves incapable of pulling away from. As Jøkul with low Warmth units may find themselves bordering insanity, some going as far as to attempt to touch a source of fire in a desperate attempt at gaining Warmth, should they not find any proper means of regaining such. Red Lines Cursed by Frost, these servant-mortals are partially gifted with the very essence of the north. To serve their kin, offering themselves as their shield and sword, they shall never be in a place of unpreparedness. Using their innate Warmth, Jøkul may wield ice, although to a much lesser degree compared to their greater counterparts, at the cost of their own physical and mental state. Sapping their own Warmth, to fuel their capabilities. Abilities Tells: To cast an ability, would mean to harness its power to begin with, resulting in a tell, a tell remaining within the theme of cold & ice. Such examples may be: -Flakes of ice breaking off their skin. -A faint white mist swirling around themselves or a body part, enough to be seen. -An azure glow within their eyes -Exhaling a foggy breath as they chant, as if exhaling within an icy region. -Veins coursing in a very visible blue, almost as if presenting a faint glow. Red Lines Cold Touch - [Combat | Non-Combat] [4-6] Warmth Units restored: [3 -> 6] By maintaining physical contact with a Descendant, or living and organic sentient being (Homunculus, Musin, Kha, etc.), over the course of [4] full emotes, the Jøkul may steal a portion of their Warmth to themselves. On the [2]nd emote, their body begins to feel chilly, slightly shivering. At [3] emotes, the victim's extremities begin to ache, grown slow and frostbitten, hands and arms covered in bruise-like marks On the [4]th emote, the victim loses their consciousness, their body made highly hypothermic and frostbitten, their body tremendously aching, although to no critical extent. As addictive as Warmth is to them, they may find themselves extending the amount of time that they remain in physical touch with the draining Descendant, further sapping the poor victim's warmth. On the [5]th emote, their body turns extremely frostbitten, to the point of a critical point, requiring immediate care. On the [6]th emote, they fully succumb to the frost, losing all innate warmth within their body, and fully feeding the creature [6] units of Warmth instead. Each emote of Cold Touch fills up [1] unit of Warmth. Red Lines Ice Manipulation - [Non-Combat] Becoming one with the Cold, the Jøkul find themselves capable of conjuring, or even bending the ice available around them, although to a very simplistic degree. Unable to benefit from such in combat. This means that they may not manipulate ice larger than a [1x1x1] area at a time, to a basic degree. While a Fjarrigua may be capable of creating a detailed and polished sword, and at higher tiers, even intricately carve it, a Jøkul may instead create the rough shape of a sword, resembling closer to a spike with sharp edges instead. Although, should they be near a Fjarriagua Altar, they will find themselves more capable at non-combative Ice Manipulation, allowing them to manipulate a whole [2x1x1] instead, with their detailing allowing them basic geometrical shapes. Warmth Units required: [0] Red Lines Call of Frost - [Combat] [2] In the span of [2] emotes (1 connection + 1 cast), they may conjure an icy weapon or tool of their choice, no bigger than the size of a spear or warhammer. Such a weapon would retain the physical appearance of that of ice, although possessing attributes akin to a ferrum weapon, in durability and strength. Yet, they remain weak to fire, melting akin to mundane ice against a flame, requiring a mere [2] flame strike of any nature to turn to puddle, or [1] single blue fire strike. Due to their icy nature, they may be shattered by blunt attacks, shattering in [3] harsh blunt strikes in the case of one-handed weapons, and [5] blunt strikes in the case of two-handed weapons. Warmth Units required: -One-handed weapon or tool: [1] -Two-handed weapon or tool: [2] Red Lines Frost Mending - [Combat/Non-Combat] [2] Being no strangers to combat, the Jøkul will regularly find themselves in situations requiring medical assistance. By conjuring specs of ice, hoarfrost, and snowflakes in the span of [2] they may stack them on a wound, in order to temporarily cut off blood loss, until they get adequate help to heal themselves. Though, such a spell does not repair tissue, but rather merely seals them, until they get proper aid, a seal that may easily be broken should they be struck once more. Warmth Units required: -Minor wounds (no more than 2 inches wide & 1 inch deep): [2] -Moderate wounds (no more than a laceration or appendage loss): [3] Red Lines Disperse - [Non-Combat] Capable of partaking in select rituals with their kin, the Jøkul - harboring their Warmth - max rapidly expel it during a ritual, using it as a form of fuel, to grant their Greaters their energy. The use of such will quickly strip them of their mundane appearance, making them visibly look frostbitten, as they lost their Warmth. Requiring them to sap once more, their craving worsened. Warmth Slots required: [6] Red Lines Beings of cold, they are naturally much more susceptible to flames than the mundane Descendant. Deific magics - due to their tainted soul - too, affect them. AURUM, due to their warped nature, causes both pain and discomfort to these creatures; upon being deeply stuck by Aurum, their Warmth begins to leak out, bringing out their horrifying, frostbitten nature. DRAGONSFLAME is extremely detrimental to their being, due to its harsh temperature compared to typical flames, melting them at x1.5 the strength of how Dragonsflame would affect a typical Descendant otherwise. MALFLAME, too, harms them at a faster rate than typical, due to their very soul being frozen, causing x1.5 greater damage than normal. Red Lines Having a portion of their soul frozen, the Jøkul may pull themselves away from death’s door, to return to lifedom once more. Yet, all is not without a cost. For the loss of what was their family - despite how twisted - is a large burden to bear. Their soul being slowly thawed, exposing them once more to the sheer volatility of human emotions, as their memories of who they were, and who they knew during such a period being stripped away from them, leaving them a ball of grief. Breathing and alive, overburdened by the sensation of loss, yet whom they lost, is uncertain to them. Reversion comes in two ways. Purging, and Exile. The former, can be done to oneself, should they seek to return to mortaldom, and close the frozen chapter of their life. Through Purging, the Jøkul would have to, essentially, thaw their soul out of the ice that hangs onto it, through an excruciating procedure, requiring the aid of a deific mage, such as a shaman or paladin, requiring them to be at full Warmth units. The Jøkul must place themselves in an uncomfortably hot room - although not a dangerously hot one, as the deific mage conducts the purge, beginning the process of thawing their soul. Then, over the course of [3] OOC days, the ice trapping their soul will slowly begin to melt off, causing excruciating pain- both to mind and body. Although without any physical detriment to their body. Should they leave the room in any shape of form, then the process will require to be restarted. It is generally advised that a Jøkul seeks assistance to be restrained within that room, so as to fully cure the curse without risk of escape. Exile, on the other hand, is one done through their own Mother, or the Fjarriagua they pacted with. An interaction that is detrimental to both the Witch and the Jøkul. For she will have to cast out one that she once saw as a child. With that, exiling is generally seen as a necessity, such as the Jøkul putting the coven and the daughters at risk. By tapping into the very ice within their soul, a Mother, or the Fjarriagua that directly pacted with them, may tear that ice out, leaving their soul thawed, stripping all that made them one with ice. Red Lines

genuinely the best writing comms i've ever ordered, i ******* love your work karim

"I gave it three months. I suppose it ended earlier than that." Said Elena to herself, within her alchemy basement, after finding out the news.

[!] A drawing of the inner walls of Hyspia, with a short-haired man kneeling on the ground, in front of an armored executioner. OOC: The knowledge in here is unavailable, as the only thing that can be RPly found are 1) the remains, 2) the letter. Anything else will be considered metagaming. n the waning twilight, the ancient city of Hyspia, carved from the heart of the desert’s golden sandstone, trembled under an ominous silence. Its intricate spires and arches, once echoing with the songs of the bazaar, now stood as silent witnesses to an approaching dread. From the horizon, where the sun's last embers kissed the earth, there emerged a procession most macabre: a cadre of raiders, a fusion of bone and chitin, their forms a grotesque ballet of the living and the undead. Í myrkrinu, þar sem ljósið deyr, vaknar draugur. In darkness, where light dies, a specter awakens. s they advanced, the very air around them seemed to grow colder, the ground beneath their feet crying out in silent agony. The city's inhabitants, their faces etched with terror and disbelief, watched as this macabre army marched through Hyspia's streets, their intentions as dark as the void from which they seemed to have spawned. Ógnin nálgast, hún gengur á meðal okkar. The menace approaches, it walks among us. midst this chaos, a solitary figure emerged from the safety of his abode – Deimtrey, a knight of Hyspia, whose bravery was as legendary as his skill with the blade. Clad in tarnished armor, he stood defiantly before the invading force, a lone beacon of courage in the face of insurmountable odds. Hjarta hans slær sem trommur fyrir lokadansinn. His heart beats like drums for the final dance. ith a heart pounding against the confines of his chest, Demitrey engaged the raiders in combat. Steel clashed against bone and chitin, echoing through the desolate streets like a mournful dirge. In a dance as old as war itself, He fought valiantly, his sword a silver flash in the encroaching darkness. But fate, as fickle as the wind, was not on his side. A spear, as cold and merciless as death itself, found its mark, impaling him through the chest, anchoring him to the earth he had sworn to protect. Sorgin og örvæntingin fylla nóttina. Sorrow and despair fill the night. earby, tragedy unfolded in tandem. A man, his leg severed in the gruesome melee, fell to the ground, his cries of agony piercing the night. Not far from him, a woman, clutching a Lorraine cross in trembling hands, screamed for help, her voice a haunting lament that resonated in the hollow hearts of the undead assailants. Dögun ljóssins ber vitni um tóm hennar. Dawn's light bears witness to her emptiness. et, as dawn's first light broke over the horizon, casting a pale glow over the carnage, a chilling realization befell the city of Hyspia. No bodies lay in the streets; no remnants of the brave souls who had faced their end. The raiders, had taken them all, leaving behind nothing but blood, echoes of despair and the haunting memory of their presence. Og í lokin stendur aðeins þögnin eftir. And in the end, only silence remains. he once vibrant streets were empty, the laughter and life that had filled them now a distant memory, as fleeting as the shadows at dawn. Hyspia, with its sandstone walls stained with the sorrows of the fallen, had its very bustling life taken away. ut a note, was left. Its words, written in blood, and incomprehensible. The only legible words, were those of threats.

Elena began to write down a large assortment of insults and disses that she will be employing to strike a strong sense of lowered self-esteem to her opponents. At least, that was something she would do if she wasn't forced to play judge.

my necrussy shall not be amended

MC Name: iDiogen RP Name: Elena Persona ID: 20942

Elena was absolutely shredding the electric guitar as she sat down beside Ramona who was writing the invitation.

Naele pondered to herself. What is Lemonhill, when its lemons have been frozen off? Should she call it Lemonhill? Welcome to Hill.

iDiogen Cestiella Ibarellan 20942

beautiful formatting and writing +1

credits to karim for the design btw, ive been relentlessly commissioning and spending bank on karim's work, he's ******* amazing his discord is karim3037 by the way, super affordable. he made me like 3 whole animated books for my community

[!] This is a prophetic vision accessible to seers, naztherak, farseer shamans, vivification clairvoyants, and mystics with hexing per Prophecy lore. - A sleep plagued by disturbance, the sight of azure eyes, watching one’s every movement. Those adept in the occultism felt its energy, beckoning to stare back. Blink. Blink. Consumed in an eternal darkness, one stretching far and beyond, incapable of making out one’s surroundings. The sounds of something crunching under your very steps, sinking slightly. Yet, amidst this uncharted territory, laid a familiar sight: The Eyes. Frostbarn, þú ert það ekki. A deep, guttural voice boomed, echoing within your very mind. It was disturbing, yet oddly comforting- a cold embrace, reinforcing the cold, whistling winds, enveloping your form. Winds that seemed to carry odd, guttural chanting. A choir of horrific voices. Rís upp. It echoed once more, as that darkness seemed to retract, revealing the surrounding land: Snow. It was all but mere snow, extending further than one’s vision can reach, barren of all forms of fauna and flora. It was but mere hills and ice-like formations, shrouded by the night sky. Or at least, that was what you believed, until… The sight of a familiar building. That of a torn-down Canonist church. The Lorraine cross, encapsulated in ice, the withered body of a Bishop hung on it. Þú ert heima núna. Tek undir það. As the voice spoke, a Nun exited the walls of that church. Then another, and another. Reaching to a numerous point. One could swear they were in the hundreds, yet their forms all similar. Dressed in dark, ragged robes, tainted by the ever-falling snow upon their silhouettes. They all smiled. Blink. BLINK. Once more, the vastless white once seen and felt as a firsthand experience dissipated, returning your mind back to reality.

when god sings with his creations, will you be apart of the choir?

.....

The usage of the remains of a Descendant is no oddity to the Fjarriagua - especially blood. For the arts drawing upon the essence of blood is one that both Blood Mages and Fjarriagua share, although for different reasons. Yet, it does not take one long to see the ways that both magics go hand-in-hand, for an experienced Fjarriagua knows the demand and sacrifice that her own unholy powers require. Through the sacrifice of specific parts of her prey, with the addition of manipulating Genus, a Fjarriagua may draw upon an entirely new set of abilities and utility, although ones that do not innately come to either Fjarriagua or Blood Mage. Rather, requiring them to be taught such. Or rather, experiment themselves until the intended results come to fruition. Fjarriagua, due to their almost-frozen and slow blood, are incapable of regenerating Genus as a typical person would. Rather, their Genus is limited, and one that requires constant harvesting from the many sacrifices that they are renown for. Through harvesting the blood of their prey - ones possessing Genus - the Fjarriagua may imbue their power within it, transmorphing the Genus into a corrupted state. One frozen, eternally preserved. Which may be consumed by the Fjarriagua to replenish her own Genus. Or even kept in storage. Corrupted, is the very flesh of a Fjarriagua. Their very blood; the key to corrupting one's body, capable of inflicting horrific curses upon those not of their own. For that, they sought to further weaponize it, twisting that dark essence that slowly courses within their body, and inflicting it into the bodies of living creatures, to - in turn - corrupt their very form as well, resembling that of the Fjarriagua. Flesh to Ice. (Non-Combative) Flesh to Ice - [2 Corrupted Genus] - Water + Mortality Through the carving of a rune of Mortality and Water upon an animal - dead or alive - using Corrupted Genus, the creature's body will begin to freeze over. Its body as a whole, corrupted with their very essence, and in turn, suffer from a similar transformation: Its eyes growing a dim, azure glow within their sockets, as their maw grows rows and rows of extremely sharp and jagged teeth, similarly to those of a Fjarriagua. Their blood turned extremely slow and slushy, their heartbeat slowed almost to the point of non-existence, and their breathing rendered nil. Gaining an immunity to the cold, but in return, suffering from all weaknesses a Fjarriagua's body possesses; such as Aurum, Deific-adjacent magics and Fire. Unlike their living counterpart, these animals do not have full sentience of their own, rather being direct servants of their superior counterparts. Taking orders only by those who corrupted them, and no one else. For only their creators may interact with them. Should they be stranded somewhere, or left in a place without orders or anyone to follow, they will automatically make their way towards the nearest altar - the structure that calls to them. Where they may wander within. Growing a taste for meat and flesh - raw above all else - and the very warmth within it, these animals feed purely on them, regardless of their previous form's dietary restrictions. Upon their death, should they be struck by anything that would Soft-PK a Fjarriagua, they will be Soft-PKed, requiring their body (mostly intact) to be returned to the Altar, and be subject to the ritual responsible for reviving a Fjarriagua, requiring but a single Mother - or two Fjarriagua - rather than the full amount, due to their lesser nature; being much easier to bring back. Putting them at no ritual cooldown, nor taking up any of the maximum slots for revival per week. Should the corpse not be present, or most of it destroyed, then a new corpse of the same animal is required for its soul to return upon that new vessel. In the case of the Fjarriagua being slain, the animal bound to her will perish on the spot. Regardless of whether the Fjarriagua Soft-PKed or not, the animal requires to be brought back from an altar with its body mostly intact - or a new corpse of the same animal altogether. If the Fjarriagua was manually brought back from an altar, then the Mother and the partaking Fjarriagua for the ritual may revive all the animal corpses and the slain Fjarriagua together in one go. (Combative) A self-sacrificial method of wielding ice. A Fjarriagua practicing the arts of blood may draw upon her own icy blood through injuries - self-inflicted or otherwise - making use of its frozen state. With that, she may draw upon her very blood, consuming [1] Genus to cast a frost-related spell, without spending the extra emote to conjure ice in regions not possessing ice. A sacrifice of one for one, quid pro quo. Trading her very health and well-being. The spells conjured will have a reddish hue to them, representing the frozen blood that was used in the stead of freezing ice from outward sources. Due to the corrupted nature to the blood of a Fjarriagua, those struck by their frozen blood will find their wounds affected by some form of pull, causing them to bleed at about 1/3rd of a faster pace than the typical bleeding amount caused by the injury. (Non-Combative) This rite covers the area in a mist - a mist that shrouds the sun, disallowing its light from penetrating through it. Under that frozen mist, there is an eternal soft chanting, like a whisper. One with barely comprehensible whispers, although ones telling the tale of Skjoldier. Of the Entity that lurks within. Within that foggy mist, one can see a piercing and glowing gaze, staring at those who dare look up. The eyes following, akin to the moon following one wherever they may be. All organic lifeforms slain within this area, will have this dark mist seep within their body, overtaking their body and mind, akin to spreading the curse of the Fjarriagua. Their body undergoing similar changes; eyes glowing a dim azure, body frozen into a cryostasis, and rows of horrifyingly sharp teeth. Ones lacking sentience, merely whispering the chanting present within the mist itself as they wander aimlessly, within the borders of the rite. Should any of those who are not a Fjarriagua or a part of their kin, these creatures will stare towards them, their mouths moving as they speak the words within these chants- the words within these whispers. Amplifying the sound of the tale of the North. They do no more than that, not reacting to any injury taken to themselves. They will continue to speak until slain, or forcefully dragged out of the mist, where that mist overtaking them will exit their body, allowing the dead to remain at peace once more. Those who sleep beneath this endless night, will be overtaken by nightmares of the North. Nightmares of the Entity. A calling, for them to accept their path in becoming one with Ice - yet a threat to those who resist. (Non-Combative) A rite embodying the very corrupting essence of the Fjarriagua. To Corrupt one means to corrupt them to their very bone. To corrupt them to their very soul. For the live victim's body will begin to rapidly shift and contort, surfacing its greatest horrors: A manifestation of their deepest fears and failures, in the form of that of a creature. Through the drawing of a circle, using Corrupted Blood, the Fjarriagua may place a live victim within it. Before adding the runes of Mortality, Power, and Dark. Requiring [2] Fjarriagua and [2] Blood mages - a Fjarriagua being capable of simultaneously being both. Then, they may draw upon [6] Corrupted Genus specifically, before drawing the Water symbol upon the forehead of the victim, allowing the rite's effects to activate. Their body will begin to bulge throughout, shifting and twisting in horrifying ways as they will begin to surface their deepest fears and failures, heightened to the point of horror. For example, in the case of a persona's deepest fear being their problems with their physical appearance and insecurities of it, their body may shift to that of a bald humanoid figure, with saggy skin. Elongated claws and missing teeth, to represent a heightened form of ugliness, in the form of a monster. This creature, throughout the horrific transformation will eventually pass out due to the overwhelmingly painful process, as they may then begin upon waking up. A creature they have become, their very body shifting to that of a creature, capable of taking them to many horrific forms. Their strength, capable of increasing or decreasing to the limits of their respective race, and their body able to shift to a maximum of [1] foot in size. For they possess the remains of the rune upon their forehead, representing that they were once Descendant to the knowledgeable, but one whose sanity is lost. One whose very body betrays them. During this state, they will find themselves incapable of wielding proper weaponry, due to their horrific nature being far too simple and enraged for such, as well as their new temporary biology making it unwieldy. They may, though, have a thicker skin, comparable to that of padded leather, that skin being more crystallized and icy in nature. Making blunt attacks easier to break through than sharp. Their blood, as well, inherits the traits of that of the corrupted blood that they have been transformed with, similarly to that of a Fjarriagua. Akin to a slowly melting ice, viscous and thick. Their very minds are not kept free from the corruption's effects. Rather, they are turned more brutal, more beastial in nature, for they are set out to achieve one thing in specific: Destruction. They generally tend to seek out and even wish to obliterate people it has any manner of connection to, whether positive or negative, such as their own family and friends, or even those they have been victim of abuse to. Credits: @Diogen Writing @Agy@Mordhaund@NLThomas Ideas & Feedback @Bonito@BenleftFor the feedback replies on the first take of the submission The rest of the community for feedback Take 2