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DISCOVERY OF GLARZDAN, LESSER SPIRIT '*~-.,¸¸.-~·*'¨¯ OF ¯¨'*·~-.¸¸,.-~*' AZTRAN, SPIRIT OF THE SUN, THE STARS AND THE ETHEREAL ✩｡:*•.──────────────────────── ❁ ❁ ────────────────────────.•*:｡✩ "BRING THE KAZOO LOVER AGAIN. SHE IS... FUN." ✩｡:*•.──────────────────────── ❁ ❁ ────────────────────────.•*:｡✩ Of all the unnatural pairings in this world, none seem to come close to the duo that went on a spirit walk late one evening. A trio of bards, one with shamanistic tendencies, arrived at the Amethyst Amphitheater in Kaethul at the behest of the Shaman-Bard. The purpose of this meeting was to make a connection with a lesser spirit of Aztran, and establish a burgeoning pact between the Shaman and the Lesser. A combination of rare pharmaceuticals was consumed, and a series of chants were called outward. With the party's pleas heard by the Lesser, they approached the Spirit Realm and entered the trance of the Spirit Walk. The duo left their bodies in gentle repose as the third member watched, for he held a fear of the unknown. Upon reaching that transcended state the duo walked into a plane of clouds, sunlight and hard light. They walked upon a great bridge crafted entirely of walkable light, confused and unsure of where they had ended up. Guided only by their understanding of needing to find the Lesser of this realm, they trudged forward. ✩｡:*•.──────────────────────── ❁ ❁ ────────────────────────.•*:｡✩ "ARE THERE ANY GIANT KAZOOS?" ✩｡:*•.──────────────────────── ❁ ❁ ────────────────────────.•*:｡✩ Wandering for what felt like hours, perhaps days, the pair stumbled upon an invisible building. Bumping their heads into the door to this great tower, the building took on a new look. Opalescent, like that of a building made entirely of oil spilt over a mirror. The duo watched in awe at this great building, and the non-shaman of the two opened the two gargantuan doors. Upon entering... what a sight! A room made entirely out of glass and clear materials. A physics defying place, where the darkest corners would instead be filled with the brightest of lights. It was breathtaking. "What... what is this...?" asked one of the two. ✩｡:*•.──────────────────────── ❁ ❁ ────────────────────────.•*:｡✩ "THIS IS EVERYTHING." ✩｡:*•.──────────────────────── ❁ ❁ ────────────────────────.•*:｡✩ A booming, crystal clear voice called through the building's great hall. Shaking the surrounding fixtures and touching the hearts of the present travelers. The being was of great size, with a body forged entirely of stagnant light that took the appearance of glass. His face was that of a solar flare, a torrent of light that was divine in its perfection. He was beautiful. He introduced himself as Glarzdan, the Chieflight of this realm. They knew they had found the lesser spirit of Aztran that they had been searching for. And upon finding him, one of the duo made a shockingly good impression on the Chieflight. The Shaman, however, was on a mission to earn a pact from this Lesser. And so it was forged. ✩｡:*•.──────────────────────── ❁ ❁ ────────────────────────.•*:｡✩ "YOU MUST FIRST BUILD A SHRINE TO AZTRAN." ✩｡:*•.──────────────────────── ❁ ❁ ────────────────────────.•*:｡✩ The instructions were clear. Crystal clear. The Shaman had to construct a shrine dedicated to Aztran and then he would begin the process of forging a pact. This was no easy, nor menial task, but it could be done. Excitedly, after concluding their Spirit Walk, the shaman began the construction of this shrine to Aztran in a secret location. The totem would show that of an eight-pointed star nestled in the clutches of a draconic claw. Symbolizing both Aztran and Glarzdan. With this pact forged, with the shrine completed, with the totem standing tall, the Bard-Shaman had declared his success. He sought out potential Champions who would uphold the light of Aztran through Glarzdan... and so it shall be. ✩｡:*•.──────────────────────── ❁ ❁ ────────────────────────.•*:｡✩ "IF DARKNESS IS NOTHING... LIGHT IS EVERYTHING." ✩｡:*•.──────────────────────── ❁ ❁ ────────────────────────.•*:｡✩ OOC Note: Thank you to @ShinyB and @PestyWarlock for staying up super late and helping me do this. Means the world!

⊹‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹ ╭──────· · ୨୧ · · ──────╮ A Maehr had brought his most passionate bardic student into the colourful shrine of Brimztra, having let them experience and meet with the lesser spirit who was satisfied with their time. “Be Champions!” the spirit boomed out before he himself expanded on those meaningful words. “In honour of Brimztra, you both shall hold a festival and create a masterpiece every elven year in their name. You will bring praise and a worthy offering that is befitting of the artistic spirit, do you both swear to keep this promise?” Glorier asked the two students of his The dark elf and human nodded and responded with conviction and excitement, the Maehr placed his hand over their heads as a gesture for good luck. With this, He and the spirits shall await the fruits that would blossom. ╰────── · · ୨୧ · · ──────╯

Symbol of the spirit Ka'tau, personification of universal law. The Book of Ka’tau Divinely inspired stories and tales of the Rah’mun peoples, translated from the writings and speeches of the prophets, lector priests, and Pharaohs. Translated and Delivered by: Atemu-Ta Amun Prophet, Voice of Ka’tau, Sword of the Ra’tuhmet, Pharaoh of Rah’tuma Book 1: Creation story. The following tale has been passed down in the oral traditions of the Rah’mun peoples, who follow the faith of Ka’tau. Ka’tau is a spiritualist faith which affirms an animistic worldview. Adherents of Ka’tau believe in a single universal law of justice and harmony which binds all of existence together and takes many forms. The various spirits of the faith represent the different faces of Ka’tau, creating an endless list of entities which represent every facet of existence. The main three entities given credence by most practitioners of the faith are the Ra’tuhmet, an eagle-headed lord of eternal sunlight; Hesthor, a cow lady of pure waters, soul preservation, and bovine purging; and Kalthet, a lion-headed lady of grand strategy and Rah’mun battles. This story explains the Rah’mun origin story. The Rah’muns believe that before anything existed the universe was merely a void. Ka’tau herself, the personification of the universal law, brought forth the Ra’tuhmet as the first light which filled the void. The Ra’tuhmet then forged the stars, the world, and everything within it. At the edges of this void emerged Kalthet and Hesthor, who both claimed different aspects of the newly created world. The Creation story contains the emergence of Keop, the mortal enemy of Ka’tau, and Iblees and his general Kazul and their activities against the early descendants. This book is considered the most sacred of all the Rah’mun texts and is essential reading for any followers of the faith. All should read and understand with the fullness of their heart this sacred story. The text [links here]: Book of Ka'tau: Creation. OOC:

It had been decades since the pact was first formed. Oaths were made, some kept, and others broken, though through this, one constant remained, a half goblin whose skin was stained with the ichor of her matron. Throughout this span, the ire of Gazighaz occasionally followed the aging hybrid, but in truth the spirit and the masked shaman that followed her word to the very letter had grown distant. Even still, when Emony’s power waxed, the mother of blood smiled, her hands folded in anticipation of the day she could call for her dept to be repaid. Gazighaz bid her time for the day when the hybrid’s power reached its zenith. The day eventually came when the blood mother’s patience waned far below a tolerable level. A cold fog rolled in over the city of San Velku as deep within her bowls, a magician and her master practiced rituals that were considered too dark for the eyes of ordinary folk. The goblin seemed to take to the lesson quickly, aiding in the right with only a few minor issues indicative of a first timer. As they concluded, Emony felt a strange twinge in her nostrils. She ascended the set of stairs out of the hidden space with haste, all the while grasping her nose shut with her thumb and fist finger. By the time she had reached the main square, her face had begun to pale as blood trailed down her chin. Her pace was slow as she held her right hand against the surrounding walls for support as she made her way to her shop. Blood now flowed freely from the nose of the goblinoid, trailing behind her as she weekly climbed the ladder to her office. As she passed the mirror within the cave-like space a look of horror settled upon her face. Within the mirror’s reflection stood a half goblin with pale green skin. The former red pigment to her skin was seemingly draining from her nostrils. Emony recoiled in disgust at the face she had long ago abandoned as the last of her red left her face. Her hand curled int a loose fist which she threw at the mirror’s glass, but her strength had already left. The goblin’s knuckles thumped pathetically against the mirror before she fell to the ground. Within moments, Emony found herself in the place between the realms. Her body huddles through the utterly desolate plane and seems to be battered by an omnidirectional, rushing force. What met her vision when she fought the pressure exerted upon her eyes enough to open them, she was met with an utterly empty, lightless void. The hybrid’s ears only beheld the sound of the gale like winds that signaled their movement through this vacant space. Soon enough her nostrils are assaulted by a pungent metallic odor. This pervasive olfactory stimulus trounced every other sense. The falling sensation was soon replaced with a feeling of sinking into a bottomless abyss of stinking entrails. Further adding to this sensation, the temperature and humidity rise in tandem. Emony awoke upon the heaving realm of guts, organs, and blood from whence she once drew her pride. With her skin stripped of its blessing, the pulsating landscape before her felt all the more hostile. The ground squelched beneath her feet as she approached a massive pulsating mound seemingly formed from the intestines. She folds her arms close to her chest, huddling against her own fear as she approaches an opening within the pile. The flesh tunnel extended deep into what could be considered earth within this realm. The intestinal tract’s interior possessed an oppressive humidity, enough to make the skin of a hardened traveler crawl with discomfort. This space varied in its width; some areas allowed the goblin to stand comfortably while others forced her to squeeze through their barely traversable passages. All this was traversed with sparse lighting. Veins within the wall occasionally dipped or ascended close enough to shed a pale crimson light. With each step, the ground seemed it would give way beneath her tread before her sinking was impeded by strands of connective tissue. Each footfall seemed to yield little in the way of progress. Her distress grew as she descended ever deeper. The path became more snakelike as it began to deft all logic, doubling back on itself in impossible ways that would normally see the space converging on itself, though nothing like this occurred. The tunnel eventually began to radiate a fowl, coppery odor which assaulted the olfactory senses and mind of the goblin. Within her mind several voices began to shout, as if spurred on by the stench. They called to her in warning. Ukh krum (go back) Irz mokh-ûr, gaz baalak (Run for home, little half breed) Lat paashnar bazg nau. Lat ufur hûnpûlp (You cannot reach the end. You fear the heartbeat) No matter what was chanted, they all discouraged progress, though Emony was persistent. She pressed on, covering her ears to spite the fact that this served no purpose. When the voices became more persistent, she increased her speed. Eventually all fell to silence and the horrific scent faded leaving the goblin to recover. Within this new room the ground lay somewhere beneath a pool of blood. Each step brought Emony deeper into its body, quickly passing her knee and by the time she had reached its center, the crimson pond threatened to pass her neck, but it wouldn’t get the chance as Emony ascended a bone pile that lay at the pool’s heart. Perched atop this osseous mound was a great throne constructed of muscle stretched over rendered bone. Within it sat a disfigured female of indiscernible race. Her gaunt and pale figure nearly matched the coloration of the bones at her twisted feet. The woman’s skin bore a spidering network of blue veins that all seemed to lead towards her dislocated jaw. This maw retained a set of jagged teeth, built for the single purpose of piercing flesh. The horrific figure stood as its hollow gaze spotted the lone traveler. Its upper lip curled into a mangled half smile. The spirit’s jaw flapped as it spoke to address the goblin. The following has been roughly translated from old blah. So, the prodigal daughter returns to the realm of the heartbeat heading its call once more. You who once showed such promise, now writhing in the blood like a worthless parasite. Speak worm. Give your pathetic excuses. I thought my actions pleased Gazighaz. The rights I performed were in her honor. Truly, you are misguided if you think that blood magic of yours pleases the matriarch. You have done nothing to spread faith in her. Even if the little “rites” you performed did somehow serve the blood mother, you always do so in secret. We require new followers, and you refuse to preach the faith. Is that why my skin has returned to the color of my birth? Indeed. You must earn the right to wear the mantle of Gazigazh. What must be done to regain what was lost? The mother and I demand you build a great shrine. Construct a heart of bleeding stone, bound with links of iron. Endow this with the blood of your people, of any descended willing to give of their blood. Then, become her herald to the uruks. Who shall this heart be dedicated to? THROQUGRIZH With that name uttered, the bones beneath Emony began to tremble. They shifted, falling away from her feet, leaving her to plummet into the body of crimson ichor once more. Her vision was filled with red as she sank beneath its surface, but this soon descended into pitch black. Before long Emony awoke on the floor of her office in a small pool of blood from here her nose had leaked. Her reflected appearance in the mirror sported the green skin she was born with. As she stood, one final phrase echoed in her mind. Nar lûmp garmadh-ishi. (Do not fall in ruin [do not fail])

[!] A frigid wind swept through the empty, moon lit streets of the Iron Ugz. At this time of night, many were sheltered from the pitiless gale within their homes. As the spirits of wind played their heatless games, one human kneeled before an altar, wrought of brilliant quartz and arum. Within his right hand, he held a stone that shown with ethereal radiance. He had placed many offerings on this shrine to Zkorthuz, including a recently forged ingot of pure arum, and a bottle of heavily distilled water among others. This was Brawly’s nightly ritual. As Brawly prostrated himself before the pristine altar he felt a pull at his right hand, as if the light stone within it wished to lead him. Its light burst forth, enveloping the man’s vision until it was nothing but pure white. The light eventually faded, revealing a truly horrific sight. The ground lay somewhere beneath an inch of blood. The crimson liquid danced and rippled beneath his feet as he stood. His front was covered in the crimson ichor, its warmth gradually fading as it ran down his form and through his clothing, gradually returning to the pool. With each step Brawly took forward, he seemed to sink further and further into the sanguineous ocean. At the point where it reached his waist, he beheld a semi-circle of Orcs, those he had come to know as his brothers and sisters. Brawly approached one of them with caution as he could not identify the individual. As he drew near, it became apparent that the orc was muttering a phrase. It was familiar to him… “Grizh tu flow… Grizh tu peep…” The whispers of this individual repeated in an endless loop. Brawly attempted to join the orc in their chanting, but as his mouth perched to form the first syllables, he was interrupted by a thundering shout. “Bruddahz, Grizh ez truth, GRIZH zhowz da wey, GRIZH TU HAV GRIZH TU PEEP.” This was met with riotous applause as the crowd repeated the phrase with a mirrored fervor. Brawly’s vision shifted as he ventured to ascertain where the initial cry had sounded, and his eyes discerned the countenance of an altar wrought of carved bone and rendered flesh. Before this altar stood a hulking figure, adorned in the garb of the Krughai. Within his hand, an ossein dagger hewn to a razor-sharp edge. This sight was familiar, however, something seemed off. Instead of the rites he was used to, Brawly witnessed something unfamiliar. The Armored orc drove the dagger into an amorphous mass of flesh. The ground beneath his feet heaved as the figure reached his hand into the incision. The tremors intensified as the figure revealed to the congregation the object within his grasp… a heart, still beating and dripping with vitriol. The Orc lifted the organ to the ashen black sky in bloody victory. Brawly’s ire was drawn away from this gruesome scene by an aberrant gleam that incurred into his vision from somewhere beneath his field of vision. He looked down and spotted the gleam within his grasp, his light stone. However, the incandescent splendor it gave forth was weakening by the second. It pulsed in a counter beat to that of the heart. Brawly extended his fingers so that they would no longer obstruct the glow from the stone which now rested within his palm. As the light dimmed, Brawly could now distinguish his own visage reflected within the blood. Within its hand was not a light stone, but a quietus crystal that seemed to be growing in strength, its core alight with an eerie pink glimmer. There was no other difference between Brawly and his doppelganger aside from on detail. As Brawly held a serious expression on his face, the mirror image was twisted into a mirthful smile. As the light finally died, Brawly awoke before the altar he had constructed. His surroundings were familiar and offered respite from his vision. Questions rushed through his mind as Brawly lifted himself from his prostration, What did it mean? Was this a prophesy of things to come… a representation of times to come? Was there anything that could or should be done? All went unanswered as the only sounds that filled the home were that of the unrelenting squall that raged outside.

A Hint of Resistance Eccentric Visions A runty little goblin sits alone in his blarg, surrounded by complete silence, aside from slow, labored breaths. The shutters lie open, and a gust blows through the household. With it, the bones that adorn the goblin rattle and clank against one another; a soft noise, but in the quiet of the home, it sounds a mournful cacophony. Long has the goblin been haunted by visions, 'gifted' to him by an unknown benefactor. Never have they been comprehensible- painfully blinding lights in a sea of changing colors, encompassing dark with naught but wind, howling and screaming yet ever so quiet... It's enough to make an Uruk turn to Oracle Wood in favor of traditional cactus, and it seemed to be working for a while. That is, until this eve. The wind howls louder. The broiling cauldron before him is suddenly stilled, as if the temperature dropped to naught. A connection he had attempted to make is suddenly severed- No, not severed. Intercepted. He is drug into a sea of undulating dark, surrounded by a thrumming heartbeat and the sound of gentle breathing. It's almost soothing, at first. Then, a voice speaks, clearer than any of the visions he has attempted to evade. It rings out across this dark, even as the heartbeat yet thrums in his ears. "Nûl-ob tau! Shiik-ob bukul'nuun! Puzughl kulûk shiik agh zurm!" ["The pain of the forest! The cry of the river! Cease all the cries and clamor!"] He winces visibly, scrambling to place the dark tongue. His eyes would widen, had he a corporeal form in this place. The voice calls out again. "GHAASH-LAT! GHAASH-IZG! GHAASHUG KULÛK ZA UB'KUL!" ["BURN YOU! BURN WE! BURNING OF ALL THAT WILL BE!"] It's loud, so very loud. Painful, even. But his pain compares naught to the pure agony he feels coming from the speaker, every word is suffering. "Lat rok'unudh-matum mub. Frum'bur at fiith-lat." ["You, a death-haunted thing. The burden, to you it clings."] The one time that the visions are clear, intelligible... and it's an order, an irrefusible command. It would almost be funny, were it not so desperate. "Ukh-lat, darûkûrzal. Gaatublat fauthat, ghaash'Uruk-hai bûrgulu-ishi." ["Go now, weakling. Your punishment awaits, in the shadow of Orc flame."] The connection forcibly ends itself, not even bothering to return to it's original recipient... Perhaps that was intentional. The goblin falls backwards, off of the stool he had been meditating atop. He lets out a groan of pain, clutching his head as he staggers to his feet. It seems his plans have changed... radically. The thrumming of the heartbeat in his ears doesn't clear away, even after the vision has ended. Whatever spoke to him, commanded him... is still watching. Expecting. "Zorri, teechur. Guez wi muzt agri tu diazgri, juz' diz azhnz." Damn. He was kind of hoping for a big change, just... not from this side.

Samuel Stelmor *A rather colorless portrait of Samuel that was recently made.* Nicknames: Sam Age: 173 Gender: Male Race: Dwarf Status: Alive, well, and active. Description Height: Four feet, seven-and-a-half inches in height. Weight: 113lb / 51kg (Slightly Overweight for his height) Body Type: Not toned, not what you would call "fit." Eyes: A dark green color. Hair: Bald. He has facial hair, a light-yet-saturated brown color beard which is under control. Skin: The closest named color is Peach Orange, <#FFD198> is his true skin color, a slight tan. His skin is clean, somewhat smooth, and has no bumps. Markings/Tattoos: Strange mark on his head, most likely a spiritual mark: Health: Rather healthy, a tad bit overweight for his height. Personality: Kind and true of heart. Inventory: Fists. Cloths wrapped around his lower arms and fists. A few religious books, and a bag of incense. Further Details: A very spiritual person, meditates regularly. Life Style Alignment: Lawful-Neutral, leaning towards Lawful-Good. Deity: Rellenia of The Celestial Triumvirate Religion: The Celestial Triumvirate Alliance/Nation/Home: Wanders around the Cloud Temple often. Job/Class: Unemployed *Subject to Change* Title(s): Dungsweeper / Custodian / Monk Applicant(Applying to become a Monk) Profession(s): Cleaning and mining. Special Skill(s): Farming. Flaw(s): He spends a lot of time thinking, and he thinks very deeply before making any important action. Weaponry Fighting Style: Prefers not to fight, but when he has to, he prefers either his fists, or a staff. Trained Weapon: Melee and diplomacy. Favored Weapon: His diplomacy. Archery: No training. Biography Parents: Gaylord Stelmor, Victoria Stelmor(Cladheart is maiden name) Siblings: N/A Children: N/A Extended Family: He does not know any of his cousins or ancestors, other than his parents, but he considered his townsfolk to be extended family. Unfortunately, his townsfolk moved away while he was visiting a sick friend of his. Pet(s): None, unless you count his love for turtles in the wild, he named them all. "Spike," "Stegg," "Jenny," "Beasty," "Star," and "Flamer." <You get brownie points if you get the 5 reference names.> History Growing up, Samuel Stelmor was not one of the more physically active children, he preferred studying over outdoor games. He always wrote reports for the elders on subjects they would teach him about. The elders loved Samuel, because he was one of the few children that cared about the knowledge they presented to them. He was always respectful to anyone older than him, and was always caring for those younger than him. He was truly the kindest heart in the town. After reaching the age where he had to move out of the home, he decided to continue his studies. He was constantly thinking about his payments due on the house he was staying in. He often thought about running out of money, which he got from a hard job of cleaning. With all the stress on his mind, he had given way, being a rebel of a citizen. After realizing his wrongdoings, he turned to meditation and relaxation, so that he wouldn't let himself become like that again. The stress soon was gone. After not too long, one of his close friends that moved had become sick. He only knew this because her family sent him a mail-bird. He ventured off so that he could be with her when she passed, but luckily, she overcame the sickness about four days later. While venturing back home, Samuel came across a great storm. He had to sit and wait for the storm to pass, which was only about a day and a half. Once he had reached his home, it was abandoned. There were some buildings that were demolished, and they looked like they were demolished on purpose, he assumed that the townsfolk had moved. He checked many mailboxes, finding no signs of where they had moved to. Sadly, he never reunited with them. Samuel, with nowhere to live, headed out through the woods, he came across a beach with giant crabs, and looked to his left, finding a large stone road. He quickly ventured to THE Stone Road, heading towards the Cloud Temple. He had been here a few times, at least he remembered it from when he was a child. He actually followed the religion of the Cloud Temple after being there for a while. He went on to spend many years there, appreciating the monks' great work. After a while, he had reached his 170th birthday. After three more years, he decided that he would apply to become a Monk of the Cloud Temple. He greatly hoped that he would accept him, for he would love to have the responsibility of helping others. He also applied for the position so that he could read more about the religion, and help spread knowledge. After all, Monk's job is to be wise and helpful. Artwork