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The Archwraith; The Eldritch One It had been a time since the dawn of the old Gravelords, they who sacrificed their mortal vessels in error and gained immortality that saw no possible end, yet a lifetime of pain that would not subside. As if a mirror, the four Wraiths of Athera slowly dwindled away like the embers of a dying flame, mimicking the fate of the first Wraiths of Aegis; the past and firstmost collection of such wretched creatures, with only one that had survived the plight that forced the other three into obscurity or assumed destruction. Chrodaeros had met his end by the hand of Clerics, wherein his soul was treacherous, and was eager to meet his Creator above instead of remaining upon the mortal plane as a being next to divine. The next was Ordos, who fell by means unknown - thought to have become one with the very element of dark with soul undone, for there is no truer end to the accursed Gravelords than the destruction of the spirit; what binds them to the mortal realms. The fall of these kings of the dead were quick, and in succession; and the pull of the Black Nexus was so great that, in reclaimation of their Rites of Ascension, the artifact touched the last remaining two with the throes of sorrow past what pain they had already felt. Their sparse brethren dwindled, and their kind was threatened to fall to time as they had before. But the Black Nexus, such an incandescent, crystaline figure of distorted beauty, would not allow it's creations to falter again. It was as if it bore a mind that a greater will was sent to one of the remaining few of the souls it had stolen - to Nimdravur, the one beneath the earth who tended to an ancient, dormant power. It was not greater strength or godhood that the Black Nexus granted Nimdravur from the cove which hid it, but it was crown of the Archwraith -- the title and it's rites, the eldritch name and it's power. Thus Nimdravur had been 'crowned' Archwraith; and there lie no subjects to command, no compatriots to rally to the cause of the Gravelord. The answer to this was in the crown that held fast to the endangered Wraith's soul, for it was under this burden of rule that he would give the Rite of Ascension to those worthy of the Gravelord status so that they may rise again in a shroud of blackness, with the bones of dead crawling after in their wake; so the sun would hide beyond dark clouds in fear of casting their shadow. Explanation This change, brought by the ancient artifact that bound the souls of the Gravelords to Wraithdom, had not granted Nimdravur the power to devastate his enemies dwelling the surface of the world, but the ability to issue more of his kindred. In the fall of Ordos and Chrodaeros, the Black Nexus corrected the error of their downfall; with the four unable to produce replacements with the lessening of their numbers, the old title of Archwraith, which was first conceived in the progenitor race of Wraiths that lingered ancient Aegisian eras, had been granted; and it gave it's wearer the ability to instill Rites, which are special privileges granted by the Archwraith to mortals in order to relay a power that had been invested within the Black Nexus since the dawn of it's corruption. When the two Gravelords lost their status of Wraithdom, their Rites of Ascension had been bound back to the Black Nexus in wait for two more worthy necromancers to reassume the keep of the Rites. The Rite of Ascension is the Rite of becoming a Wraith - to obtain the Rite would mean the Archwraith would had deemed the worthy chosen capable of handling such undoing of mortality. Necromancers are able to gain the Rite of Ascension by the trials of the Archwraith alone, for there is no magic known that would be able to sustain the wretched form of a Wraith without the fabled power of life drain. Whereas the Rite of Ascension could only be given by the Archwraith, other Rites are able to be passed onto mortals; often taking the forms of coveted secrets and powers, such as the creation of Deathstalkers - the skeletal servants of the Gravelords and the bladebound brethren to Liches. However, such Rites are more often issued in forms of power granted by the Black Nexus, and unable to be given by any other than the Archwraith. Such Rites are often used for bindings and laws that lock themselves around the souls of the Gravelords; laws they must follow and goals they are bound to. By no means could the Rites give any form of godly power, for the original iteration of the Black Nexus was not created by the immortal divines, but of a beast much more mortal only fabled in legends. As Archwraith, a Gravelord would gain no greater power. Their power comes with their accursed title only able to be passed down to another Wraith by the Archwraith's will. Their 'crown' deems the Archwraith a font of wisdom and authority, but bears no mean to tip the scales of the powerful affinities of the four Wraiths, or anymore that could possibly be created in the future. Only a figurehead do they act as, with the reign total as per the ability of the Rites. What strength the Archwraith does have, however, is the Rite of Annulment, which forcefully strips a Wraith of it's immortal form and banishes them back to mortality, all the while being cursed with the constant need to drain lifeforce. As if they were still a Wraith but encased in flesh, such traitors would be condemned to a life of physical fatigue and weakness, with only their necrotic powers and magic acting as their ally, with the fear of flame, weakness to Clerical arcane and a damaged soul crippling them until their certain doom. Such a fate is rare to be found, for chosen Archwraiths are intended to act in total wisdom - to judge the traitorous lord keenly, and to understand their reasons of treachery. Rites & Doctrines Issued by the power of the Black Nexus are six Doctrines that all Wraiths, and their crowned figurehead, must follow, lest annulment claims them. They are as listed, and are subject to growth and deduction by the power of the Rites; Thou shall not betray thy ken; thou shall not hold a blade to the robe that hides them from the sun, nor treacherous fire to shine upon their dark. Thou shall not war with the Archwraith; thou shall not dishonor Him, with only blade raised to Him in the issue of duel. Thou shall not conspire against the Archwraith; thou shall not seek to usurp, and earn the crown by true immortal effort. Thou shall not ally with the Light; thou shall not align with the antithesis, the Enemy; thou shall not serve the Enemy, the Maker, or His Aenguls, or bow to the changing flame of the Daemons. Thou shall not the defy the act of dissent; thou shall not undermine the mission of betraying the Creator and destroying the imbalance brought to the world. Thou shall not serve the coming of armageddon; thou shall not bring about the end of times. Thou shall not seek to destroy the world, and thus destroy the Gravelords with it's fall. As followed are the known Rites, grantable by the Archwraith; The Rite of Ascension - to make rise to new Gravelords with the succession of worthy necromancers' trials. To become useless in the hands of the innecrotic, and to be fabricated in the form of a dying ember. The Rite of Annulment - to denounce the status of Gravelords by Archwraith will upon the totality of their collective, individual treachery. To be unsummonable by living man, and shaped as the light of mortality enshrouded and enchanted upon blade, axe or dagger; to strike such upon the coil of the treacherous Gravelords. The Rite of Succession - to deem a worthy Gravelord as Archwraith and pass it's rightful powers onto the chosen, and as a result to affirm the prior Archwraith as a one under the Archwraith like it's other brethren. To take the form of a jagged crown of iron that saps the life of the living upon touch, but fits atop the hood of Archwraith. The Rite of the Blackguard - to make rise to Deathstalkers, the 'lesser Wraiths' as created by the Gravelord Nimdravur who sought greater servants. To be useless in the hands of the innecrotic, but to be granted in good favor to chosen necromancers, and to take the shape of a jawless skull, with the blackness of the Void in it's sockets and the closed eye of the Archwraith upon it's yellowed scalp. The Rite of Damnation - to set the gaze of the Archwraith upon a chosen bastion of heresy; to bring about a dark crusade led by the Gravelords and allies to places in which act as the havens of the Enemy. To take the form of a breathless warhorn, blown only by the dead. ~;~ This is the reformed system of the Wraiths, whom I wrote lore for without thinking of a way to properly replace Gravelords who had relinquished their position. The title of Archwraith gives no power beyond authority over their respective collection of Wraiths and acts as their veritable Dreadlord, but without the means to force Wraiths to utmost bidding. The Rites are powers granted to the Archwraith by the Black Nexus, able to issue things like "laws", commands and rituals only pertaining to Wraithdom and declarations fabricated by the Archwraith. More Rites may be made under Lore Master approval, and must follow the guidelines of Wraith and Necromancy lore if the proposed Rite falls into their respective aspects. Rites and their "fabricated forms" are also the result of the Black Nexus' power, which is able to imbue the demanded items with their respective Rites and thus make the holder viable to use them if they bear the proper means to do so.

[[ This is an elaboration on lore which already exists. I wrote this several months back, around the time when Wraiths were first implemented, and thought this was necessary to throw in. http://www.lordofthecraft.net/topic/99462-wraiths-harbingers-of-the-fourth-age-ready-for-review/ ]] Within the archaic ages of Old-Aegis, when peace was known between the early-Four purely because there did not lie petty territorial conflicts or wars waged from greed, there dwelt a benevolent being whose heart shined true, his soul bearing pure intentions for the mortal races that inhabited the Ancestoral Land. The child of the Father of Dragons, Môrdring was like all of his wise, ancient kin -- pure, willing to act as a vanguard of the goodly, and keeper of time in the form of old tomes. His power spun wide, for his blood bore the very essence of magical power -- but it was purity Môrdring dabbled in, the power of light and golden flame; and for this reason, he held many ideals that agreed with that of the Aengul of Purity, Tahariae. But alas, he was a timid creature despite his willingness to entrust the Mortal Four with the blessing of virtue. He was Môrdring the Radiant, for he was of light and righteous flame. But his benevolence and his wisdom did not prevent the clever Dragaar from swelling with assurance upon formulating a plan he thought would lead to the protection of the Mortal Four for all eternity; protection of their mortal coils, and the protection of their souls. He bore a hatred for sin and the naivety that mortality brought, but this did not falter Môrdring’s wish to save them all. On one fateful night, near the dawn of day and during the twilight of the land, the Dragaar of purity stepped from his lair of white stone and libraries to declare to the skies, to the Father of Dragons himself and even to the Creator that he will create an artifact so thoroughly pure and powerful that the sins of mortality will be absolved and cast from the common-man’s soul by it’s very presence, setting them on the track of purity and virtue, and that they would be protected under this shell of light and celestial force for all eternity; to prosper not as the Mortal Four, but as the Enlightened One. And for one-hundred years in count, the Dragaar Môrdring had labored and toiled in the burdens of arcane weaving; with magical knowledge known by no mortal man in those ancient ages, Môrdring cast his power upon a dazzling crystal of radiance, gold and white in structure which bore a warm glow that would dissolve the impurity from one’s soul in but seconds after the sinful touched the object and drank it’s aura. Within it’s shining depths, Môrdring the Radiant locked a mass of arcane knowledge, the key to enlightenment, and the most prominent gift of them all. Locked within the radiant void of the artifact he deemed the “Luminant Shard”, lay the tongue of Môrdring, the dialect of the Seven Skies, as he described -- The Tongue of the Âru. The Luminant Shard was cast from his spire of blessed brick and sturdy mortar, sent to lay in wait within the mainlands of Aegis. But the Mortal Four would not accept Môrdring’s gift as easily as he expected; for it was not self-assurance and pride in his ideals that led to his dark unraveling, but the over-expectancy of the mortal mind. It was first found by the Elves of Mali’nor, who treasured the sanctity of their forests and the purity of their line. Brought to the Branch-Shapers, or otherwise known as “Druids”, the Luminant Shard was studied as thoroughly as the Druian could study it; but, despite all efforts, the artifact of golden light and radiance did not react what-so-ever to the Druidic magics applied to it. Deeming the comforting, albeit eerie hushed words the artifact often ushered into the minds of several of the Druids that crept near it’s tall crystalline structure as an omen, it was cast from the tall forests with much haste by the Elves. It was the human Kingdom of Oren that discovered it next. Unlike the children of Malin, the priests and paladin-crusaders of the Old-Oren Faith were more skeptical on the intentions the Luminant Shard bore. The holy aura it expelt frightened the priests and struck suspicion into the church, and with but days after the Shard was discovered, it was cast from the human lands in a religious fervor; they would have nothing to do with heresy in it’s prime form. Within the heated hills of sand, the Luminant Shard was discovered by the nomadic Orcish people who, with much caution, dragged the artifact from the sand via a long rope, and after studying it close, took it to the shaman that resided within Krugmar’s capital. But as the Druids failed to trace the origins of the bright crystal back to their Aspects, the Shaman could not commune with the crystal with their spirits. The Orcish peoples, with their quick temper, were upset by this failure of progression, and with little thought flung the Shard from their desert-lands in a blood-rage. At last, the holy Shard fell into the hands of the Dwarves weeks later; but their reaction to such a radiant, fascinating gem was much more different than the other three races’. Bearing the assumption it is a diamond that had been so magically blessed that it obtained sentience and acquired the ability to telepathically communicate, the Dwarves’ curse bubbled up and showed itself in it’s raw form -- bearing mastercraft pickaxes of mighty carbarum alloy, they surged upon the Shard and struck at it without hesitance, but to no avail. The Luminant Shard’s arcane wards, in retaliation to it’s harsh treatment, blew the incoming Dwarves back with a mighty push of telekinetic energy. Enraged by the fact their greed could not be sated the Dwarves cast the crystal from their cavern home and into the fray of obscurity. But even obscurity is dwelt, and by darker things. Five men of black crowns discovered the Luminant Shard and, with much haste, hoisted it from the dark corner the crystal was cast to only to bring it into another -- their lair, stinking of rot, death and old dust. It was there the Luminant Shard was situated, and it was there the Five Lords tampered with it with the most unholy of magics: Necromancy. Wielding the taint of unlife as their weapons, they cast the putrid black smog forth and surged it into the Shard’s very being. Knowing they were unable to unlock what the whispers promised in it’s state of light and purity, the Five Lords displayed their greed and their treachery to the crafter of the light-bringing, sin-cleansing gift and corrupted the Luminant Shard to it’s core, corroding the massive amounts of information carefully stored within and wiping out every single trace of light and pure arcane magic that dwelt the Shard’s crystalline structure. But alas, warping the seemingly locked, crystalline vault of power into a shell of what it once was did not provide the Four Lords with the unlimited power the crystal promised them.. Môrdring the Radiant was a clever being. His skill in magic spanned far and wide, but even then he did not recognize a hint of the taint that warped his prized creation, for the concept of mere mortals wielding such a manipulative, malignant force was beyond his comprehension. To expect the mortal ilk would dare scorn his craft was something he was incapable of conceiving at the time, but when the Shard was corrupted, and when he felt the agonizing backlash and the endured sensing the sharp cry of pain the Shard released, as if it actually bore sentience in subconscious form, it was then that Môrdring realized the mistake he made. The riddles he set as the keys were too advanced for the Four Races to figure out; their ignorance betrayed him. Their impatience led to the Shard’s outcasting; their foolishness scorned him. Who was Môrdring to assist the Mortal Four if they were too corrupted already with greed, with sin and rage? He had handed them the key to the universe, and now it had been twisted into a husk, a shell of his own power. It was a shell, but it was not defenseless. The Luminant Shard, it’s warm glow and golden hue replaced with a swirling black void of darkness and aura of fatigue and fear, lashed out at the Five Lords -- it took their power, and it used it itself to punish them, to twist them into beings that are not dead, yet are not alive. It was no malignant deity’s artifact that created the Wraiths of the First Realm, but a mistake; a manipulation of a gift meant to spread good, to cast purity forth. But the Mortal Four were not ready for Môrdring’s gifts, and he was well-aware of this. The mortal races he was tasked with protecting and even vowed to do so, in his eyes as the Wraiths rose, did not deserve his protection. And so he fell. He fell from a state of enlightenment to a state of depression, anger and darkness; and those who know well of the Dragonkin are aware that if these emotions drawn from his failure and his spite took ahold of the once-wise Dragaar of like, he would form into a being of evil, of sinister intention -- he would be that of the Void with a soul as black as night. But Môrdring the Radiant’s will to spread righteous purity would be so diminished by this dark turn of events. When the darkened power of the Luminant Shard drew forth and tethered the Five Lords to warp them into beings of death and decay, Môrdring surged what power he still had into the crystal from his white spire -- it was then he settled a lock, a barrier upon the corrupted Shard that prevented the tainted gift from making more of the abominations that then counted in five and were capable of taking on tenfold their own numbers. Môrdring the Radiant fought a battle in the shadows and prevented the death of the realm by the hands of the Five Lords of Death instead of by the vassals of Iblees. The lock upon the Luminant Shard which now bore the name Black Nexus as deemed by it’s new undead masters kept the Dreaded Five from summoning more embodiments of terror forth, and as the years passed, the depressed and distraught Môrdring attained relief as the Wraiths began to die off, one by one, as the Undead of Iblees assaulted the land enmasse. But fate would not leave the dark artifact behind so easily. There lay more in store for the Black Nexus to endure. As Aegis fell, the Wraiths fell with it. Before their fall they collected their closest minions, and in-turn, sent them upon a voyage across the sea and away from the Verge that endured the wrath of Iblees like the land behind the portal had; the ancestral land that the Dragaar of Radiance vowed to protect. Time passed by quickly and the Black Nexus was kept hidden, kept safe; through the toils of Asulon and through the trek of Kalos and Elysium the minions, despite their weakening grasp on their faith, kept the Nexus secure. But their faith in their past dark lords eventually slipped, and not bearing the will to hear the screams the swirling, blackened crystal expels from any that dwell near it, they, as the Dwarves had, cast it into obscurity upon reaching Anthos where it rested for a time within the deepwoods of the continent. But dark things dwell obscured places. One who deemed himself with the title “The Perfectionist” discovered the Black Nexus and thusly brought about the second coming of the Wraiths and the rise of the Gravelords; from their dark hoods they drew forth the corrupted Tongue of the Âru; deeming it Oblivion-Speech and scorning it’s creator by speaking it. The Four Gravelords declared themselves the Khôr, the Oblivion-Tongue word for both lord, and darkness. And in the shade of the Mortal Four, now counting in five, dwelt Môrdring, the bitterness of dismay having darkened and blackened both his mind and body, but not his soul. His white scales no-longer painted his massive, draconic frame; only ones of darkened hues clasped about his immortal coil - as dark as his spite, with amber eyes burning bright like the churning flames of his anger. But he did not turn, for he was still of light and righteous flame. Môrdring the Shadow remained obscured by all - standing idly by to simply watch, to silently wait. He watched as Aegis fell. He watched as the Mortal Four committed atrocities within Asulon, ranging from genocide to magical advancements that scorn the very fabric of the realm the Mortal Four once inhabited. Môrdring watched as they left Kalos and Elysium in a ruin, he watched as his weakling kin, Setherian the Black Wyrm, threatened the very existence of the five races that inhabit the land of Anthos, and now he watches as the four races squabble and argue within another land which slowly dies by the hand of warfare and colonization. He watches, but he does not dare move from his perch -- he does not dare cast the shade of his wings. Not yet. He is the Shadow, the Father of the Khôr.