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This message is written in Ilzakarn - The Inferis Language Any non infernals reading or seeing this would only see strange runes like above, and hearing it being read would be incomprehensial to a normal descendants ears. [posters would be send to selective places and hung] Infernal brethren and sisters, as many of you might or might not feelis that we demon have not full filled our duty as a plague for the mortal races as we shouldbut do not worry for me "Rokmae'Nazkrul", invites you for a oppertunity to serve your desires beyond your contractors. I invite you to a eternal carnage and butchery, the new group i personaly named "Ilzaduv" (Mayhem) No more shall we be limited by alliances, no more orders for people seeking power to rule the world, here we will roam like a plague on the mortal bones and spread all over untill nothing is left but ash of the past If you wish to join the infernal mayhem to spread around the realm find me In the place where light barely passes, where the dark rules, by the antlers of the embodiment of the spirit of the forest.

This message is written in Ilzakarn - The Inferis Language Greetings, Infernals wandering the mortal plane, devouring the souls of the lessers. This message I have written in hopes of arranging some, Let's say some fun activities, as many of you know we all do exist but not many have seen each other before, for the sake of our interests and making new contacts, I suggest a tournament, one to determine who is the meanest, strongest and most Huk-akal, A place for enemies to be slain, alliances to be made, Bonds to be created through the blood of their fallen. This infernal Get-together has been arranged with the blessing of the "Gashakoduro," The infernal Lich. Participation in the violence will be optional but heavily encouraged; feel free to bring artifacts to sell; consider it a festival of sorts. Where the winner will gain the title of "Vuhd-akal," hold the name with pride, and gain the reputation as the strongest of the demons walking on the mortal plane; one could call this demon Iblees strongest warrior if you want to. Before I reveal the location, I want to say a few words for the more treasures of our kind, and if we find someone led by a bunch of holy xan shitters or other, quote on quote, Noble heroes wannabes, we will swiftly banish you to Azdromozas darkest parts, and make sure all the patrons and below will know of your betrayal which will lead to an internal torment. So keep that in mind. And one more thing, we suggest you bring your mortal souls, where we can hold a sports hunt where the demon gets to devour the souls they catch. Now for the location...[describes location] For the actual location, contact dreameater145 in Discord. Ideally, let your cult leader or king or whatever your representing head person call themself irp, and contact me, and they will tell you guys when and lead you to the place on the day of the event. [This poster can be found in every dark corner of Aevos for all to encounter, but for some to read]

[!] Scattered across the land of Aveos littering roads, towns, desolate forests and slipped in barrels was a missive. Almost immediately the reader could tell was nothing good unless they were of a certain mindset THE EVIL MINDSET TO MY HATE NO LIKERS! HELLO MY FRIEND THAT ISNT MY FRIEND IT IS DAAL THE GREAT GREAT! IF YOU ARE READING THIS I KNOW YOU FOUND THIS PAPER THING THAT I HAD MY FLESH THING WRITE. NO IDEA WHAT HE IS HE HAS FUNNY EARS THOUGH. BUT BACK ON TOPIC THING IDEA. MY PLAN PLOT IS ALMOST DONE. YOUR LAND WILL BE ENGULFED IN MY FIRES AND YOU WILL BE MY FOOTSTOOL AS I SIT ON MY THRONE. IF YOU DONT LIKE WANT IT, THEN COME FIND ME AND TELL ME. WE CAN SEE IF ME WANTS TO GRANT GIVE MERCY. THIS IS YOUR WARNING NOT GOOD SIGN FLESH THINGS. DAAL IS TAKING THIS LAND. NEHAHAHAHA! <- yes he did ask me to write his laughter -With hate, Daal Editor’s note: My ears aren’t that weird. Please help me this thing has had me captive for two days now PLEASE HELP ME!

The day, that day, would one be burned forever into the Hyspian Princesses mind. It’d haunt her dreams, her waking moments, awakening her as her frightened gaze darted about those first nights since. She’d weep and cry and pray, much like she did the day of the siege. It was still all so fresh. --- Princess Sofia de Pelear, merely fourteen years old, had awoken within her recently renovated tower of the Ciudad de Plata palace. The ministrations of day to day life was had, a Lady-in-Waiting brushing her hair, breakfast being delivered upon the table as she sat with her family, uttering out a prayer before breakfast. It was all so simple. Peaceful in its own way, with its mundane likeness to the young girl. It was simple until it wasn’t. Her father, Viceroy Cesar de Pelear stood tall, strong as he rallied the house guard, this coming shortly after breakfast as he was called from their table. They were to protect Haense, to protect their people and ensure the day was not lost. Her guard, her friend, she’d taken Wyn to the side mere moments before they left for the capital. Teary-eyed and frightened, she peered up at him and with all of her usual demands bleeding into one, and her vulnerability and moment of weakness showed, she’d state with no lack of strength to her tone. “If you die, I will kill you.” And so they marched. Armor, it felt so cold against her skin at first. The pieces a bit too big, fitting not quite right as she’d never donned it in her life. Soon, though, that cold turned suffocating. Sweat beaded. Had she ever sweat before? Had she ever felt that sweltering heat bearing down on her? The soldiers gathered, from many a nation, many a vassal and she could feel her heart thudding frantically in her chest. Thump. Thump. Thump. If she hadn’t known better, she may have thought she was running a fever. Her gauntleted hand clasped at her sisters, that feeling all too strange as she felt Veronicas small hand in her own and as the words of her father came down the line, they were sent to the palace to await what may happen. --- And so they rushed. The jostling and clanking of armor sounding, the heavy breaths and pants as they paused in the grand foyer. Fabric rustled, a medic preparing a med-bay for those injured during the siege and footsteps sounded. The Princess Royal was soon leading them, the woman keeping careful steps as it went round and round deep into the crypts, grip ever so tight against the wall and pews, movements tight due to her pregnancy. They’d made it. Sofia removed her helmet, taking in the stale crypt air with shuddering gasps leaving her as she kept close to her sister, worried for her family and friends undergoing the siege outside. They sat upon a mattress, and the scent of blood soon seeped into the crypts, cloying the air and the stench choking up the space. Many a time, a perfume bottle rose, spritzing the area around them but it’d only help so long. Leathery scents adding to the blood, honeyed scents only highlighting it in turn. Then, the prayers began. Never had she prayed to GOD so much in a day and yet, the prayers spilled out, leading the fellow children within the crypts in prayer as the adults spoke in their own corners, worrying over what was happening above. "Saint Edmond, as our soldiers go into battle today, grant them fortitude and protect them. Pray for God to show mercy to the dead, and that in hoping for victory today, we may win the peace tomorrow.” One after another, it’d come forth, whispered and cried as the thudding booms crashed and rocked the ceiling above. Dust and debris filtered down, and more joined them. The Princess Royal, she’d collapsed against the wall and her water had broken. Medics overwhelmed by the injured above, it was the mothers, mothers who’ve had babies of their own previously that saved the day. They led the woman through her birth, even as the cries and prayers of the people echoed around the crypts. And so a little girl was born amidst dread and disaster. --- A meteor struck soon after. It rocked the palace, delivering destruction and renewing the cries and prayers with a fervor. The Princess Royal seized, and the injured were delivered down below as the scent of blood grew only stronger and the children in the back prayed and pleaded, wishing to be with their parents, to go home, to see another day. And yet, the crypt was not safe. The buzzing of bugs within the walls sounded, echoing and shaking the walls. The Haense gates at the front were overtaken. And evacuation went underway. The previously seizing Princess is carried, her newborn baby lost within the crowd as the girl is brought to safety. Sofia kept her hand in Veronicas, frantic whispers sounding as she feared losing her sister in the now converging crowd. One last prayer was said and they were off. Rushing up the steps with Ser Walton leading the way. Coverings taken from windows, the carpets, a dress to protect from the flames raining down. Feverish pleas and cries coming forth from the evacuees, as they made way for Reinmar. Fire. Fire was the first thing Sofia noticed upon the exit of the palace. It overtook the sky in a terrifying kaleidoscope of burnt oranges and bloody crimsons, almost beautiful in its misery. The plop of something wet was felt as they made their escape. Then another. And another. Blood. Blood rained down on them, drenching those in their escape. But they did escape, they made way to Reinmar, taking refuge within yet another basement. This one was smaller. The press of the bodies were all too tight. The stench of blood, sweat and fear clogging the very air as the children of the group pressed close, frightened they may lose each other in the chaos. More injured are ferried in. News came, as her dear friend Wyn entered, delivering more injured. He was okay. Uninjured. Her father is alive. And then he was gone, back off to fight. And news soon came, of the triumph in the battlefield. The group rushed, pushed as they exited the basement of Reinmar, cries of joy and relief sounding as they poured forth in their effort to go home to Karosgrad. Her family made it. Her friends are alive. She is alive. --- As she went home that night, peeling off bloodied pieces of armor in favor of silken dresses and dinner around the table with her family following a prayer, she knew one thing. She’d never think of it as mundane again.

[!] An ancient-looking tome sits in your hands, evoking a faint chill from each yellowed page. Some of its words, odd and blocky looking, burned and blinded your eyes as though written in blazing fire - and as you continued to scan over its cover, you found paragraph upon paragraph in common. The ravings of an Occultist, it seemed. [A fair majority of the tome is written in Blackspeech, and has OOC translations in bright red text. Blackspeech’s lore can be found here.] [ AL’LEJU ] [ ZU’BURZGERN-KA ] SCRIBED BY [ AL'PROTTIRC-LURRIS ] SOCIETY OF THE WEEPING GATE PRELIMINARY INVOCATION [Thee I invoke, The Betrayer. Thee, that rule the hells with an iron talon; Thee, that rule over fire and brimstone. Thou art the feller of all Holy, Thou didst weave the Five Planes from ash. Thou art our Majesty, Thou art our Infernal Lord; Thou hast conquested each Plane, Thou didst prove Man as weedy and damfool. I am the Hierophant, unto whom you didst bewitch me with thy spirits, thy mysteries, thy empowerment. Hear thou me, for I am thou illicit priest/ess.] Write the sigil of upon a sheet of papyrus, in a mixture of ¼ Descendant Ash and 2 Measures of Descendant Blood – preferably, your own or one of your same race. Extend it to rest upon your forehead, as you chant His name and face North if the Month of ꘐ, or South if the Month of ꗂ. INVOCATION OF [Drazhana] [I invoke thee, the Wicked and Powerful, Pentacle of Dread, Lady of Bats, Who dwellest in the bowels of Moz Strimoza – Be my guiding light, tempered by the flame of foreboding, Come thou forth, and follow Me: upon the Earth: on dry land, or in the Water: of whirling Air or of rushing Fire: and every Spell and Scourge of Iblees, may be obedient unto me!] [Goetia] THE ART OF GOETIA Demonology; Occultism; Goetia. This practice goes by many names, and lumped in beside other ‘Ill Practices’ such as the Soul-Shepards and bewitching Frost Maidens; but such an art isn’t so obtuse or dumb. Demons, as they are, are Human just as you and I are. They reflect our very nature, yet so many are quick to deem them the opposite of Us. We are Demons, and Demons are Us. As such, by delving into this practice, you become not like the soul-slaving Maleficar nor the Magi who weave undeath into life, but a King among his People. A Baron with his Fiefs, a Captain among his Soldiers. Practitioners of Goetia understand this phenomenon and crown themselves as the master of their fate unlike those making themselves pigs to be slaughtered by their masters. We are Free, and you can be, as well. IBLEES, the Great Prince. The Great Prince, the ‘Betrayer’. He commands an unfathomable amount of Legions and typically appears as an amalgamation of Bat, Crow, Goat, Cat, and Snake; other times, depicted as a behemoth of Human descent with leathery skin and limbs made of ember. He can maketh thee a Devil, or grant thee Spiritual knowledge. Present upon ꘐ [Ixli; Bûrzgraz], and only pays homage to grand rituals with his sigil imparted. DRAZHANA, the Bat. The Lady of Dread. She ruleth 95 Legions and appears as a grand Bat with wings of interwoven cosmos, which if one looked within would be granted the boon of flight. She teacheth about warfare and espionage, and has the ability to cause fissures in the earth and tears in the sky with a beat of one wing. This Seal one should wear upon thou left arm, and a ring of ivory upon thine right 5th finger. TICHAR, the General. A steadfast ruler. He is a Duke of Drazhana’s realm who ruleth 45 Legions and appears as a behemoth made of warped flesh and viscera, with two large melting wings. He speaketh with a hoarse voice of many: sometimes three, sometimes hundreds. He teacheth strategy and imparts wisdom upon the Practitioner, and answereth truly to questions to Human nature. This seal one should have carved upon an area of flesh, and an anklet of twigs upon the left leg. NAMYA, the Scout. Namya, a Marquis of Drazhana’s realm who bears the likeness of a half-serpent woman donning Rokodra, and holds an infinitely long parchment in one hand of all those under Drazhana’s rule. She discoverth things and spawn familiars into the realms to feed her knowledge of those beneath her. This seal should be placed upon an altar. MALGN, the Soldier. A great Earl of Drazhana’s realm. Malgn looks akin to a bull-headed drake with three tails, who exhales a black fog at will. He Burns and Ignites where he walks and can only be called upon the Month of ꕫ, where he will impart knowledge of all to Come upon the Practitioner. This seal should be placed at one’s feet and no higher. [!] On goes the list of many, many demons of lesser importance and varying powers. [Spellweaving] ᓵᔑℸ ̣ ᔑꖎᒷ!¡ᓭ|| - Catalepsy Take a bull’s head and memorabilia of your Chosen and place it at your feet, alongside the seal in the month of ꕫ, facing the Sun. Anoint one foot with the blood of a cow and lay the tail of a snake upon your right, as you bring your hands upon the bulls head. Smear its blood along your forehead as you chant these words; “I invoke thee who art in the void air, terrible, invisible, almighty, soldier of soldiers, dealing destruction and making desolate, O thou that hatest an enemy. I call thee inflict catalepsy, cause failure and turn to ash this opponent”. Burn the bull’s head alongside the memorabilia, and leave the sigil of Malgn drawn upon parchment where such ritual took place. Soon, the target should be afflicted with rigid movement and slower thought, followed by a seizure or great loss of consciousness. ∴ᔑ∷↸╎リ⊣ - Protection With a handful of a snake’s scales, set them and a mixture of rosemary, lavender, salt, and ashes within a vat of hot water. Draw your blood and draw the seal on the container’s side. Enter the hot water and sit within it, soaking the mixture into your skin, your flesh, your soul. After all added ingredients have settled to the floor of the container, exit and scrape away the remnants of the seal, dropping it into the water. When one speaks ill of you, approaches with hostile intent, or wishes to double-cross you, you will feel a hint of malice toward them in your mind; and simply the feeling of betrayal. ↸𝙹∴リ⎓ᔑꖎꖎ - Downfall Using a scrap of Descendant flesh the same race as your target and an artistic depiction of them, draw the seal upon a sharpened bone of a fowl and stab it through the depiction. Shed your tears upon it and then utter, “I invoke thee who dwellest in the sea of dread, who flies among the wyrms and fights an infinite war. I call thee in desperation, in tribulation, through woe and sorrow to drag this target into your depths and to annihilate him wholly”. Draw an ‘x’ mark upon your palm and smear your blood upon the bone, before gathering the ritual into a cloth bag to deposit beside a graveyard. The target will find their fate to alter, woe to overtake them, and tragedy to chase them wherever they step. ᓭᔑᓵ∷╎⎓╎ᓵᒷ - Sacrifice Upon a living creature, scrawl the Sigil of upon the stomach, the seal of upon the throat, and the seal of upon the temples. Speak the Preliminary Invocation as you close their eyes and cut linearly along all three seals, from the first to last, before beheading them and collecting the liver in a jar. Burn the corpse and offer their being and soul to the Dreadlady as thanks. [!] On goes a list of odd spells with incredibly specific rituals, ingredients, and chants. AL’LEGUZU’BURZGERN-KAAL’LEGUZU’BURZGERN-KAAL’LEGUZU’BURZGERN-KAAL’LEGUZU’BURZGERN-KAAL’LEGUZU’BURZGERN-KAAL’LEGUZU’BURZGERN-KAAL’LEGUZU’BURZGERN-KAAL’LEGUZU’BURZGERN-KAAL’LEGUZU’BURZGERN-KAAL’LEGUZU’BURZGERN-KAAL’LEGUZU’BURZGERN-KAAL’LEGUZU’BURZGERN-KAAL’LEGUZU’BURZGERN-KAGOETIAAL’LEGUZU’BURZGERN-KAAL’LEGUZU’BURZGERN-KAAL’LEGUZU’BURZGERN-KAAL’LEGUZU’BURZGERN-KAAL’LEGUZU’BURZGERN-KAAL’LEGUZU’BURZGERN-KAAL’LEGUZU’BURZGERN-KAAL’LEGUZU’BURZGERN-KAAL’LEGUZU’BURZGERN-KAAL’LEGUZU’BURZGERN-KAAL’LEGUZU’BURZGERN-KAAL’LEGUZU’BURZGERN-KAAL’LEGUZU’BURZGERN-KAAL’LEGUZU’BURZGERN-KAAL’LEGUZU’BURZGERN-KAAL’LEGUZU’BURZGERN-KA ℸ ̣ ⍑ᒷ ∴ᒷᔑꖌ ᔑ∷ᒷ ᒲᒷᔑℸ ̣ , ᔑリ↸ ℸ ̣ ⍑ᒷ ᓭℸ ̣ ∷𝙹リ⊣ ↸𝙹 ᒷᔑℸ ̣

A Recounting of the Inferi War Battle of the Arts, Blast from the Past Submission Princess Esmae Bint Saqr Al-Nabeel The past flew away from her like the desert sands she loved so, grasping at memories that are long gone as the elder woman often wondered what could have been different. The desert heat had always been a dear friend to the Princess. The sands clung to her, a comfort in even the hardest times. How she missed them now. The image that stood at the forefront, even as she grasped at others, not wishing to remember, was always the Inferi War. It always began like a feverish dream, blurry and unfocused until it became so clear, she could swear that she was there all over again. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Night had come to the Sultanate and Elmirah Esmae bint Qamar Al-Nabeel had found herself at the side of a man she found herself coming to love. He wouldn’t have been the first to ask the Sultan for her hand in marriage and what she wouldn’t know was that he wouldn’t be the last either. The man, lanky and tall, seemed to know her well despite their brief chats. A gift of a telescope, sitting within the Al-Faiz square, large and gleaming, and all for her. Esmae has always been a scholar, and for a woman that was often logical and often found herself feeling nothing, her heart thumped oddly against her chest. That night, she stood at the telescope beside a man who’s name she could not even remember all these years later and looked to the stars. -- That was the night it all began. How the sky twisted and shook, streaks of color flashing past it. It mesmerized those who watched, the timing so impeccable as right as she pressed herself to the telescope, it began. A year of darkness followed. Sunlight unseen during this time. There were times she tried to remember what the desert sun felt like, all too cold within the warmth of her sands. If only that was all, she could have lived with that but it wasn’t. -- Reports of a camp outside their home came in, attacks on their soldiers. And so the soldiers went, they’d fight and they’d lose. Inferi, they called them. Demons of all sorts, large and small. Some akin to bugs, others akin to people. At first, the woman was excited. She spent so long studying scorpion venom, architecture and other odds and ends. She could be a true scholar now, doing what she wished to do all along. Study creatures. And so an order was put out, seemingly simple enough. Get the Princess a creature to dissect and study. Until one is had, she’d visit every settlement, every nation and interview those who encountered them. Learn their numbers. Their strengths. Weaknesses. And yet, with each interview, something new always came. Larger numbers. New types of creatures. More dead. A day had come, a chance to be able to study one of these beings. Soldiers surrounded the bridge, a creature upon the middle in its last throes of life as it was brought down. The Princess was too late. An Inferis body never stayed long, it is why she was never able to study one before. The soldiers thought it dead but she knew better from the gathered information. She’d shout out, scream but not soon enough. The Inferi exploded. Soldiers dead, curious civilians dead. That excitement of being able to study something new, it died. How she wished to go back to the days of studying scorpions, of collecting books but that wasn’t to be. -- The war continued. Groups, nations and the like had come and gone as they’d attempt to stop these beings from taking over. As those lost, the Inferi would set their sights on Al-Faiz after each group gave their attempt and more would die. There came a time when she begged, an odd sight for a Princess, for these groups to stop. The Inferi grew more powerful with each death, let us plan, let us not give them strength. It was for naught. -- The man that was with her at the beginning, he was there for some time. And she can remember still the face of another man, one she’d come to truly love, who she’d given a tour during that first month of darkness. Despite everything, the death, her family being torn asunder, she’d begun to find love. -- Time went on, battle after battle fought. Family member after family member dead. She once had a large family. The family reunions growing up were always chaotic and fun, how they’d visit Sutica in their vacation home. Host feasts within the palace. Her family now dwindled to but a few. Her friends she’d come to love and care for, only one remained. And yet, it wasn’t enough for the Inferi. It never was. -- That final battle or what she thought to be, was the worst. Ferried to an island, meant to wait with the other women and children, as their men and soldiers, allies and friends fought for their city. Her cousin dead. How she loved him dearly. Babies taken. Her people enslaved. What little people escaped, she tended to in the clinic, desperate as her gaze went over each face. They weren’t there. Very few were there. -- Plans were made at camp. Esmae provided what knowledge she had, shared her notes from experience, from the interviews she’d taken. The first man, the one she could no longer remember the name of, he’d disappeared before the final battle. Perhaps dead or perhaps cowardly. The second, she planned with and shared the occasional smile. A light in the ever-pressing darkness. And so the men went once more, the Princess kneeling upon the hard ground as she prayed. How she prayed. It should have been simple, a reconnaissance mission. But the soldiers, the men, they saw a chance. Inferi guarding a caravan. It should have been supplies, for all intents and purposes, nothing gave it away as anything else. But as the caravan lit, flames crackling and smoke drifting, the screams of women and children sounded. Slaves of the Inferi, the Princess’s people, the Qalasheen burning alive. -- The secret wasn’t kept. The man she loved told her and she had to tell her cousin. Her cousin's baby was taken in the chaos. How her lovely daughter may be dead. Broken, hope draining, she whispered broken words to the man she loved. Of forgiveness. That next day, her cousin's body was delivered by wheelbarrow. Jumped from the roof, the soldiers said. And still yet, she tried. For her people, her family, the man she loved, her friends. -- Amongst this all, what had been meant to be a light in dark times, a figure approached the Sultan. He asked for her hand in marriage, only to be given a trial, one seeming near impossible: “Free the Qalasheen and you may marry my Niece.” Against all odds, against every loss, every death, everything her people had been faced with, the trial had succeeded. A great mission, people freed. The motion of using bolt cutters to free her people from their chains will forever echo through her ears, her heart, her mind. -- Yet, it had always been said a Farfolk woman will have troubles of the heart. A story as old as time. Against all odds, a fisherman freed thousands of slaves and gained the permission to marry the last Princess of Al-Faiz. Her cousin's daughter, found within the arms of an elderly woman against all possible doubt. Hope. Finally, there was hope. Happiness bloomed, and as he called her aside, a smile formed only to dampen, heart stuck in her throat. He’d gotten a woman pregnant. And for that, they cannot marry. -- And so she’d lost her love. Her family. Her city. Her friends. She’d tended to the injured and sick, waving away a freed man who followed her, insistent on repaying a debt. -- She walked the desert sands once more. Felt the heat of the sun. And yet, everything was different. Her home in ruins. Her people starving, exhausted and traumatized. How she wished to be studying scorpions. To be leading tours of Al-Faiz. Running away from guards for a moment of privacy. For life to be so simple once more. These memories blew away like the sand, falling through her fingers as she looked out at the sandy hills of a new land, eyes blurred and unfocused. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Upon seeing the Blast of the Past theme, I had to! The RP on her was all very intense, and the Inferi war was something in history. Thank you to any who read this!

”One day he will return, and on that day, we will be there to welcome the Infernal king” ~The Infernal Knights~ Iblees will return, A prophecy, no, a Certainty. Born from the moment Iblees was locked away, a conviction of his return. A grand prophecy, empowering all who serve the demons. An infernal source of power that drives all those who believe, all those who know. The Infernal Knights are an order of wretched beings powered by sheer force of will and faith, all of them pledged their souls to the High lord Iblees himself. They fight for their Infernal Lords with steel and fire. They would happily die if it meant the service of the demons. Moz Strimoza is their heaven and Demon’s are their halfgods. The world will Burn…. History 43 years ago the Inferi hordes were stopped in the Korvassa desert, they returned to their realm but not without leaving a giant amount of destruction and chaos, the land around the Korvassa desert started to split open deeming its inhabitants to flee. The entirety of Arcas fled to Almaris seeking a new fresh life, but the cataclysmic event awoke something in the shadows of the dark, lingering evil that was waiting to come out. 5 years later… A white haired elf, hailed from a bustling city, one day ventured deep into a dark forest, his white locks brushed in the wind. After a long walk he came into an open spot in the middle of the dense forest. On the other side of the opening was an elder figure who arose from the bushes. Both figures approached the middle of the open spot in the forest, wind mildly blazing past their air. In the middle was a ominous rock, black as the night, a pentagram carved into it. The elf looked at the man and the man looked at the elf, they clasped hands with determination. “Old friend…” These were two regulair descendants, void of power. But together, in that forest the two friends founded The Infernal Cult, wrought in the strongest foundation: faith, soon many more gathered. They began slaying those deemed unworthy, spilling blood for infernal gods, creating chaos wherever they could, corrupting the world. They began their eternal search, longing to serve their rightful masters. But misfortune struk, The Chasm of the Unholy, an ancient and holy place for the Infernal Knights was brought down, layed in ashes of its previous cinders, sleeping. Therein the cult slept, slept for multiple years, but one man stood up. Another man stood up, one by one the Cult stood up from the shadows, they gathered to reignite the flames of the past. To relit the ashes so that the ashes may turn into a greater flame, mightier, stronger and more demonic than before. ‘The order of Infernal Knights was born!” ~ Clothing The Infernal Knights are never seen without armor. Lower ranked Knights will often be seen wearing chaotic, rusted symbols and armor, usually black and dark metals. But due to the chaotic freedom of their wears they can represent pretty much anything as long as it honours the Infernal gods. The higher you climb up the ranks the more organized the armor looks, don’t get me wrong, they look chaotic alright. On the contrary, those higher in command, wear armor representing some of the commanders from the last inferi war. All the armor usually appear quite demonic, meant to honour their gods, often Inferi symbols can be found and the suits of armor are usually quite spiky and rugged to simulate the chaotic nature of the Inferi. ~ Food The Inferi have a delicate yet brute menu when it comes to food. While they do eat regular food, the Infernal often dine at the meat and blood of their enemies. They took the habit of ripping your opponents in half and consuming their flesh from the demons, though, made more suited for descendants. The Infernal knights like to dine on their enemies and drink their blood after a victory, many different parts of their enemies are prepared and consumed as if a feast to celebrate their victory. It is accustomed to drink blood of those same corpses as well, alcoholic substances might occasionally be added if the mood is right for it. While they eat their enemies, a lot of the corpses are left to sacrifice to their gods. Even though they like to consume their enemies nice and fancy they do stick to their Inferi masters and rip the skin straight off freshly perished corpses. Usually to intimidate the enemy. Though, in the end, to their sadness, they eat cooked meat, to avoid consuming too much raw meat and catching ill. ~ “Cower in fear as you watch the flesh being ripped of your allies bones by the looming knights in the fire, Watch in horror as you know you will be their next meal” “We are but pawns, mere tools. We will live for our gods, and we will die for our gods” Religion The Order of the Infernal Knights is a religious group of knights who dedicate their entire lives to serve Iblees. They believe Iblees is the one true god, meant to rule all. By serving Iblees, they consequently also serve the pentacle and all Demons, under them. The Infernal Knights believe themselves lowly in comparison to the demons. They are perfect beings as Iblees intended to. That is why they try to pick up as much of the Infernal culture as they can, for example, as mentioned before. Eating their enemies. Anything Infernal is holy to them, Moz Strimoza is their heaven. Demons are their Demi-gods, to die for the Inferi is an honour for all Knights. ”To only place thyne eyes on the mere sight of an Infernal being is one of the greatest blessings one can receive” The Infernal Knights believe they might be able to please any Infernal gods or even Iblees himself by sacrificing non-Believers to them ceremonially. Usually meaning the death of an enemy or someone who does not think of the demons as good, paired with a prayer. The bodies will then usually be eaten or used to be thrown into the mouth of Moz Strimoza. An uncanny, endless pit, murals covered with what seems to be Moz Strimoza’s land itself. They believed it is to be a portal holy, wherein they threw the bodies or residu of bodies they had consumed in the hope that the demons of Moz Strimoza may be able to claim their souls. Several members of the old Inferi cult have ventured down, yet none have returned so far. They are believed to be in Moz Strimoza now. The Infernal Knights believe that Iblees is destined to one day return to this realm to destroy it with chaos and rebuild a paradise for the Inferi. The Order seeks contact with the Inferi or its allies so that they can serve the Inferi. They have never seen any Inferi, though their purpose is to serve them, until they have contact from the Inferi they go by the lead of the Zealots. Spiritual leaders who are chosen because it is believed that they are the best to interpret the Inferi’s will and lead the Order. They seek to free the High lord of Moz Strimoza and ready the world for Iblees to make it as easy as they can for him. ~ “Marching Knights, everywhere. All demonic in stature, chains could be heard everywhere, every step set determined, meaning to kill for their lord. We knew. The Infernal Knights were coming…..” Hierarchy The Infernal Knights are a force of chaos and violence, not stopped until death. But like the Inferi, the Infernal Knights have hierarchy. The Infernal knights are an army of veteran knights, often previously a soldier before joining the order, or trained in the order itself. Led by the hardest veterans of worshippers, solely powered by faith and sheer force of will. They have an iron resolve to serve their lords and keep true to the hierarchy, obeying all who stand above them. The Knights have no particular weapon, all knights using their own respected weapon. Ranks The Scourge - The apprentices The Scourge, or, the apprentices are newly joined members of The Infernal Knights, they are those who wish to serve, but are often not trusted completely yet, therefore they are not yet Infernal Knights or Sorcerers. The apprentices are the biggest bunch of the cult, many aspiring to be completely trusted into their knighthood, gaining access to all the Order's knowledge. Until they are trusted they will attempt to prove themselves by attending missions and assignments and are trained in combat by the Knights. Although the Apprentices are not trusted completely yet by the upper ranks, they are all valuable members of the order. Without the power and will of the aspiring Apprentices and their sheer numbers, the Order would not be where it is today, therefore they are given the name: “The Scourge” To give them a collective identity and the enemy a force to fear. The Scourge wears an individual set of armor each. Over the years tailored to their specific needs and desires. Some sorcerers need less plating, some want spikes on their shoulders, all examples. This makes each Apprentice unique, this is to represent the minions of The Inferi, all unique in their own terrifying ways. An Apprentice loses their individuality when becoming an Infernal Knight/Sorcerer. Some of The Scourge can be promoted to Lieutenants, these are more trusted Apprentices, but are not yet let into the Infernal knighthood. They are long time apprentices or those trusted a great deal by the Infernal Knights. Sometimes let in on some knowledge/missions. And also given the right to lead the scourge should a higher up be unavailable. *Scourge Lieutenant The Infernal Knights - Sorcerers The Infernal knights/Sorcerers are the most elite group of the Order, feared the most in the Order for their terrifying protruding presence. A rank holy to all apprentices. One becomes an Infernal Knight or Sorcerer when the Apprentice/Lieutenant has proven their worth. An Infernal Knights is like a brother to the other Infernal Knights and sorcerers, they have fought beside them for an incredibly long time now and they are a trusted member of Order, allowing involvement of all the secrets of the order. They are now one of the highest ranking Individuals, there are not many Infernal Knights/Sorcerers. When an apprentice/Lieutenant gets promoted to the status of an Infernal Knight or Infernal they lose their Individual set of armor (they can keep it off course, but it’s just armor), in return they are given the Infernal knights set of armor or the Infernal sorcerers set of robes, showing their status to the rest of the Order. On top of that a Knight or Sorcerer is given a title, a name suited to their personalities or achievements, defining them as an individual knight or sorcerer of the Order. *An Infernal Sorcerers set of robes. Infernal Knights wear great, decorated, plated armor giving them strong protection. They are usually already strong enough to wear the heavy armor comfortably due to the training they received as an Apprentice. An Infernal Sorcerer is a spellcasting member of the Order. They usually fight from distances with their magic supporting the Infernal Knights and The Scourge on the front. The Infernal sorcerers are usually given robes with light plating to allow better movement and less carrying weight for they are usually weaker due to their abilities, unable to effectively carry heavy armor. The Infernal Lords - Zealots The Infernal Lords are the three leaders of The Order of the Infernal Knights, they are treated as Zealots, spiritual leaders. Interpreting the will of the gods, deciding what actions the gods would want them to take. They always consist of three members, avoiding any possible corruption to ensure the well being of the Order. The Infernal lords do most jobs in the Order, amongst which leading most missions and assignments, and directing the Order to keep a chaotic yet organized group that can effectively carry out their duties, an Infernal lord's job is a tough one, but they are veterans amongst the Order, guided for decades by their religion. Atop all that they ensure their religion remains intact and honourable as intended and needed, making sure all aspects of their religion will be kept and held properly. The Infernal Lords armor is close to an Infernal Knight one’s, but still with their respective differences like a crown shaped helmet and greater fur collar. There are at this current time 2 Infernal lords who are still seeking for a third member worthy and willing of taking on the task. They are the original two founders of the cults. ~ Purpose The purpose of this lore is a necessary rewrite of the old Inferi cultist’s lore, a premature version of the intended and still developing cult in a stage where there was little time to develop decent lore. This lore is a rewrite hoping to have picked up on the experiences made in the cult last year of its existence and in the hope of sparking the culture a new life. This lore also follows the same reasons the original Inferi Cult was created. To create a group of Inferi Worshippers to allow people wanting Inferi Worshipping rp to do so, and to create a new villainous threat on the roads and cities. I hope you had as much fun reading the lore as I had writing it. OOC applications are: Closed (For ooc application contact Minth_11 / Minth#6303) [Do not metagame this information] Writer: Minth