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"Be wary of their true intentions." (The Realm of Clouds) The individual realms of the Immortal Spirits are vast and overwhelming, the perfect representations of their respective dominions. However, it is not simply a world upon which the Spirits themselves recline in omniscience. In most cases, intelligent life swathes through these dimensions; fragments of the Immortals, that live to serve and sate their insatiable lust for power. The Spirits remain in these realms because they are perfect environments for them, and to venture out of them would be incredibly dangerous. If an Immortal Spirit were to materialise on the lands of the Descendants, they would be exposed to irreversible damage. For this reason, they send their loyal children unto the worlds of the Brothers’ children. These beings serve, for all intents and purposes, as conduits through which Spirits may influence the Mortal realms. Personifications of what their creators represents, they venture out into the world in search of ways to enact the will of their masters. When an Immortal is worshiped, or if their dominion of existence is prevalent on the Descendants Realms, their influence and power over that aspect of existence grows. For instance, with the growth of the plague on Vailor, and the land that has succumbed to decay and despair, the Immortal Spirit of Disease, Orgon, has grown significantly in his influence over the land. The bidding of these Lesser Spirits varies according to what their Immortal Master represents. For instance, a fragment of Enrohk (The Spirit of War and Bloodlust) may not necessarily seek those that would worship him, but would instead manipulate nations in order to war among themselves. Bloodshed and War feed Enrohk; in all forms. It is not always worship that Spirits seek, but only that their influence on the land be maintained. However, this can usually be upheld by the efforts of the Shamans, and for this reason they are the Mortals most aware of the Spirits and their will. However, in their wisdom they attempt to maintain a healthy balance between the power of all Immortal Spirits. These Lesser Spirits, whilst serving the will of the Immortals, have their own, unique personalities, appearances and approaches to the world. There can be multiple lesser Spirits aligned to one Immortal, and all can have their own idea of what enhancing their reign looks like. I will describe several of these beings below, though there are myriad more. Fragments of the Spirits Spirit: Ixli, the Immortal Spirit of Spirit of Knowledge, Truth, and Judgement, appearing as a giant staring eye. He provides knowledge at the cost of sanity. Avatar: Ziileny (sandara) Form: Appearing as an extremely long and slender Wyrm, Ziileny has a permanent fixture of insanity imposed on her face. Her large, toothy grin seeps a terrible stench as her overwhelming and fixed eyes stare into the minds of those she communes with, searching their souls for their deepest secrets. She has pale, purple skin with a sickly green line of gnarled hair running along the center of her spine. Dotted in scars, her body also appears to host several sets of teeth and arms. Her numerous teeth are most often grinning alongside her, though open occasionally to cackle for sometimes no apparent reason. The arms that run along her body allow her to scurry along the land in a terrifying slither. Personality & Approach: Ziileny actively seeks out those within the Mortal Realm that aspire to Magick, offering them the knowledge they seek in return for their sanity. This is often left out of the equation until after the ritual takes place, when the victim has already fallen into a precarious state. She is quick witted and conniving, and prefers to work alone. She does not trust the competency of others, and revels in outsmarting the students he hunts for. Ziileny will often become distracted from topics of conversation as she spouts nonsense about the intricacies of very specific sciences. If one were to engage her in the subject of learning Magic, she may suddenly teach you about photosynthesis as her form writhes in seeming agony. Spirit: Enrohk, the Spirit of Bloodlust, Savagery, and War, appearing as a berserker covered in blood. Avatar: Klin (maciejkuciara) Form: Klin appears as an unusually tall and strong Barbarian woman. Her hair falls around her face as a brunette drape, often covering her eyes, giving off the impression of savagery. Her body seems to be covered in tattoos of red, that almost seems to swirl around her limbs as if there were blood coursing on the surface of her skin. She carries two long blades, with which she quickly dispatches her enemies. Personality & Approach: Klin is seemingly incapable of speaking. Her communication mostly consists of grunts and roars, which pierce through the air, much like the blood from her enemies, as she fights vigorously. In her reticence, she is an intimidating figure, often towering over Adult Male Humans. Due to her reluctance to speak, she is not often fond of conversation. When she materalises upon the land, it is for one purpose only. To murder. Spirit: Ghorza, the Spirit of Travel, movement, and fortune both bad and good, appearing as an old traveler with a walking stick, with various fetishes attached. Avatar: Pizrak (matchack) Form: The appearance of Pizrak is an unusual one. This lesser Spirit does not materialise as a living entity, but instead chooses to comprise as a ship, which is capable of sailing on its lonesome. Interestingly, Pizrak may materialise as one of two forms. It will either form as a decrepit ship that maintains its ability to sail upon the shores, or an intact variation of its counterpart. Purpose: For obvious reasons, Pizrak does not have much of a personality. However, it has been known to course those that seek only to spread misery into tides of doom. Generally, Pizrak will appear on a coast somewhere, and guide those that venture on board into places of intrigue. Those that have set foot upon Pizrak have noted the uncomfortable sight of the ship sailing itself. Many references to Ghost Ships in the past have in fact been spurned from sightings of Pizrak. Spirit: Freygoth, the Spirit of the wild, nature, and animals, he takes any natural form he may desire. Avatar: Maabin (monikapalosz) Form: Maabin materialises as a pale, hunched creatures which seems to resemble an Ape in many ways. He is adorned in white cloth, with small piecings of armour. He carries around a carved wooden staff, and uses it to smite those that disturb the balances of Nature. Personality & Approach: This Spirit appears very disinterested, which is a stark contrast to his fighting style. He is very nimble and powerful, and can easily best most of his opponents in single combat. Maabin cares greatly for the nature around him, even if his facial expression would denote a nonchalant aura. He will often visit damaged areas in an attempt to restore them to their back to their natural state, and will hunt those that wreak despair upon the world. Spirit: Krathol, the Spirit of Pain, suffering and starvation. Appears as a skeletal vulture picking at its own bones. Avatar: Uzkost (Mavros-Thanatos) Form: Uzkost appears as a humanoid with rotten and patched skin, draped in a surgical gown with white gloves. A large piece of cloth is wrapped around his head, tied in place by several strings of barbed wire. Personality & Approach: Uzkost walks the earth in a languid movement, wailing often as he searches for those he can pass on his despair to. In many cases, he will torture those he can come into contact with. If a Cult to Krathol exists on the land, Uzkost may pay them a visit, demonstrating methods of torture on himself. He has a strong distaste for the smell of food, and will flay out in a burst of bloody mess if he catches the scent of it. This Spirit partakes often in chat-chat, in between screams of pain. He will occasionally materialise in protected areas so that he may chat with the denizens there, striking an intense fear into them as he picks a target for torture. Uzkost has a particular interest in Halflings, as he has a strong hatred for positivity. He will hunt them very specifically, in order to create a more dystopian land. Spirit: Akezo, the Spirit of Health, Vitality, and Healing. Appears as a winged and feathered serpent with a blue aura. Avatar: Lekeni (Marcodalidingo) Form: Lekeni often appears as a short, blonde man draped in grey robes. He carries around a staff as equally small as his stature, and traverses the world in an upbeat fashion. Personality & Approach: This Spirit is tasked with expanding the knowledge of healing upon the land, and will often enter settlements in order to teach citizens about basic healing and sanitation. It is said that Lekeni is the reason that healthcare flourished, and is the cause for cleaner living conditions across the land. Occasionally, he will heal people himself in the need is dire. Lekeni is quite often seen as a cheerful man, keen to communicate with others and impart some of his wisdom upon them. Spirit: Wodanaz, the Spirit of magic, the arcane, and mystical energies, appearing as a swirling vortex of purple energy from which he takes any form. Avatar: Nakov (AldemButcher) Form: Nakov appears as a cluster of large, pearl-white mushrooms. Purpose: While Nakov does not inherently have a personality, the influence it has on the realm is as substantial as the other Lesser Spirits. Its presence in the land creates a magical aura in the surrounding area, allowing the power of Wodanaz to seep into the environment. The plantlife surrounding Nakov quickly take on magic properties, creating an Arcane environment within which apprentices may wish to study. It is said that such spots are the perfect environments for magic users to meditate, as it is said to make the process of connecting to the void a lot easier. OOC: The Spirits have always been something of an untapped resource. It is my hope with this thread to allow a more dynamic series of events to be held through the ET. These Lesser Spirits have the potential to traverse the new map in an unimaginable numbers of ways, creating events and developing characters in a way the original lore was intended to. I intend to write more on these Lesser Spirits as time goes by. There are a plethora of Immortal Spirits to choose from. Thank you for reading.

This will prove I am either entirely inept, or not as inept as you think I am. Likely the latter. Excuse any awful spelling or grammatical dipshittery as it is 2 in the morning and I've been up since 5 the day before. A bedraggled sage-esque Orcish woman would saunter into any city or town with a large populus, clearly dazed and emaciated. She’d creep to the largest group she could find, regaling her tale of the spirits informing her of a grand catastrophe that’d lead to a great finding. Later she would tell the group who accepted the task that she is a shaman, despite how obvious she may have made that fact. They would trek deep into the spookiest bit of whatever the new map is called, as we will switch to it in less than a week, and eventually come across a frightfully deep chasm in a massive basin, which would later be found to be a drained lake.. The shaman would warn the group of the perils beneath, and I’d [!] to make it seem as lackluster and typical as possible to breed suspicion about the group. After some time, the shaman would shout at the group, continuing to warn them. Either after some time still, or after someone would inquire how dangerous, the shaman would tell them She’d show them, and ask for the party to stand back. She’d rip a dried and marred skull, whose openings would be sealed with fat and sand, from her bandolier of many shaman-y things, and toss it in the hole. A fiery heat and light would wash out of the hole, provided with a noise similar to a flood. The shaman would shriek to the group to run up to the shore of the basin as an awful sludge would spring from the chasm. The shaman would make it out in time. The goop fills the majority of the once-lake’s basin, sloshing up in a slight wave that’d pool at the slight of the shore, before reeling back into its mass. In the puddles’ pseudo-nucleus, deduced by its darker colouration, would be a blackish boulder, quite hefty in size. The sludge would quiver and quake, shifting about to eventually come alive. I’d [!] something pertaining to the fact that the lake was filled with a puddle of death, just so everyone was clear on that. The shaman would stutter, stepping back aways in disbelief and mumbling something about the spirits because shaman. She’d shout at the party to keep the beast away from her as she’d do her work, being as vague as possible, to aid with the suspense. She’d request the group to allow her back into the trees or some equal convenient vision-obscuring device for long enough for her to call for a favor. If arguing would ensue, I’d bolster the severity of the situation via the blob slamming wads of itself into the ground or something similar. If still the group would deny the Shaman the clearance to hide behind something, I’d have the blob do something rather distracting so everyone wouldn’t focus on the Shaman for a moment. Once she is obscured, I will interact with the party as the slime for an amount of time deemed fitting, at which point the bit of obscuring nature the shaman hid behind would cough an animal of fire, which would sprint into the jiggling mass of blob. The canid engulfed in flame would charge through the goo, entirely unimpeded, as its heat is enough to dissipate the slime into a foul smog, which too would dissipate into basically nothing. From the three other cardinal directions would charge similar beasts of flame, that’d cut into the thing that consumed the lake. The creatures would pool in the centre of the slime, chasing each other in a seemingly-choreographed circle, slinging whips of heat through the basin of sentient sludge. The ropes of expanding heat would sling further and further, ending the bizarre ceremony with the tendrils of fire scraping at the basins shoreline. The blob is entirely evaporated, along with the wolves, whom sizzle out into a quaint nothing after their deed is complete. The group would likely not understand at first, and should they not deduce that the random flame-wolves weren't conjured by nothing, I’d emote the shaman groaning or somesuch. Upon the hopeful locating by the group, the shaman would be in deep concentration, mumbling words unknown to any lest they understand the True Blah. They would be visibly shaken, and likely looking as though on the verge of death, as her disheveled state mentioned at the beginning of this awful spiel was not remedied. Should she be disturbed in any way during this bout of gibbering, her mental connection to the spirit realm would quickly severe, shattering her fragile psyche, whereupon she’d bury the smaller end of her staff into her eye, pressing it further until her demise. Should her True Blah requests be allowed to finish by the party, She’d end her connection, and peer to the group with a frightened, thousand-metre stare. If anyone would touch her, she’d collapse as though dead. Should anyone continue to try and tug her back to some form of safety, she’d flip a **** and begin smashing and clawing at the party. Around the beginning of the party’s interactions with the gibbering shaman, a peaceful storm would be forming, with lazy clouds bobbing about to assimilate into larger versions on themselves. The only gesture the shaman would offer, is propping a palm facing the lake on her knee, with a finger stretching towards the basin should the party still now understand what she was asking of them. Upon the party’s hopeful inspection of the lake, which would be caked in foul ash, they would come across a meteorite, entirely whole, laying near the chasm the sludge creeped out of. It is likely a large slime lived about the lake, and the meteorite slammed into the centre of such a lake, causing the lake’s water and any slime dwelling within it to sink into the massive chasm caused by the falling rock, in turn causing the slime to assimilate into one massive slime, which would swell to even larger size via absorbing the water drawn into the chasm. The shaman would not interact with the group apart from the ways mentioned above, she’s asked too much of the spirits and in return they’ve stolen her sanity with the aid of Ixli. Should anyone who speaks True Blah wish to study her babblings before her inevitable starvation, they would learn much, as Ixli’s mind-tearing inducts the knowledge of several well-learned scholars within oneself. The meteorite is enough of a size to lug back to a village with the aid of the party, though carrying would likely be much easier if broken in chunks. The shaman perishes, and will perish no matter what any would do. Weird-ass idea conjured from nothing, sorry if its shite. Sorta not, because creativity, but sorta am at the same time. Please, tell me how awful I am in the comments, It makes me feel as though I lack a skeleton. Sorry about the textwall too Sleepy