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Annasiel
At last, my peace. I found it in her eyes.
369
Aug 13, 2015 22:40:06 GMT
August 2015
annasiel
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Post by Annasiel on Sept 16, 2015 19:33:40 GMT
Chapter on Auramancy in an Unnamed, Archaic Encyclopedia of Magic
Auramancy is, first and foremost, a bloodline ability. This does not mean those ungifted in whatever arcanogentic propensity bestows this skill cannot access its power. Instead, much like elementalism or extraplanar magics, the existence of said proclivity merely accentuates the natural talent in that field. First appearing among the eldritch, now-deceased race of the Fae, auramantic prowess gives the user sway over the forces of the soul. First, the soul must be defined. A soul is a component of limbo-based psychic energy, essentially an afterlife counterpart to every living creature’s physical form. This is contrasted to the spirit, which is actually a conscious, self-creating focal point present in ethereal energy; in essence, the soul is the otherworldly vessel, and the spirit the otherworldly self. As such, energy can be harnessed and adapted from the souls of living things without directly harming them. Only excessive use of a being’s ethereal potential can cause permanent damage, since ether can be equated to a less-poetic counterpart to fantasy’s beloved ‘life-force’. It is true that things with greater ethereal potential tend to live for longer periods of time, and that ethereal potential rapidly decreases as beings age. It’s speculated said energy is not actually depleting, but merely becoming accustomed to, and thusly affixed to, the limbo realm. An apt metaphor would be the body’s use of blood and tissue as uterine lining in anticipation of pregnancy, giving the foetus a cushion of safety; similarly, the lost ether from the reality-based soul into the limbal one is merely creating a nest of familiarity for when the dying being’s spirit passes over. In theory, a consistent surplus of ether would lead to eternal youth. Experiments with the removal and reinsertion of ethereal energy have shown it and young appearances are closely related, as are it and physical health. Even though all organisms are leaking containers, doomed to one day empty, a constant replacement of the lost power would mimic never losing it in the first place. Using the energy of others to maintain the levels of your own is at best dangerous. Not only because of the health risk you impose upon others, but also because of a health risk to yourself, as ether is often attuned to a person’s individual signature. The more of a dissonant energy you accrue, the more you damage your sense of self. Too much discord in one’s center leads to a fragmentation of mind, body, and spirit in trinity, spawning a host of dissociations and psychoses hell bent on rending the poor, confused self into a thousand listless fragments. It’s better to use the energy of others for external tasks, saving your own empathized power for the running of your vital parts. The late Fae were praised for their natural beauty and youthful vigor most likely for this peculiar phenomena, as they held ties to the ether of the world itself. Truly one with nature were these beings, resonating with the spiritual energy of all living things, and as such they could easily draw from nature itself to maintain their vitality. More modern auramancers, tainted by mortal flesh, are forced into a form of AURATIC VAMPIRISM to achieve the same effect, stealing aura by force from their fellow mortals. In fact, AURATIC VAMPIRISM has been classified as one of the basic Auramancy abilities, alongside AURAKINESIS, AURASPECTION, AURATIC GLAMOUR, AURATIC EMPATHY, and AURALYSIS. These individual abilities shall be detailed later in the chapter.
Just as Auramancy is a measure of one’s effect to manipulate the ether, willpower is a measure of one’s ether’s immutability to change. Directly correlatable with the mental willpower often expounded in psychonautic texts, this ethereal willpower is often found in beings with high levels of stubbornness, firm resolution skills, and an innate system of personal values. This connection between mental and aural On Auramancy, and the Power of Spirit
By Falladeen Gar, scholar of the Temple of Light Translated by Nory Bentley, chief linguist of the explorer Winston Fullerton Translator’s note: This message was found on the charred corpse of a Nurian academic. Remarkably, the dry papyrus paper survived, though he, unfortunately, did not. Apparently, the studies he mentions were deemed heretical, and he was cleansed in the sinner’s ceremony with his works still on his person. I recommended to Fullerton that it would be best to hide the existence of this paper from the Everflame, and he agreed. After so much work on our trade agreement, it would be foolish to ruin our good standing. Sunderland shan’t build itself without the strength of the Nurian Empire! It is said the soul contains a power like no other. Our ancient tribal enemies boasted command over it, their goddess bestowed it. Through recent studies in anthropology and arcanology, it is found this is true. Deep inside each and every living thing lies a force, we call ether. It is on another level from reality, and difficult to touch and detect without the aid of great magics. But when it is found, it dazzles with its brilliance. It resembles a glowing, transparent fluid that slides through the air like a sandsnake. By force of will, one can control it, harden it, adapt it to whims, though this is more difficult than many magics we have dealt with before. It seems the ether pulled from beings of consciousness and sapience glows the brightest, and is the easiest to control. Arcanologists theorize it is the source of our understanding of the world. Its ties into our perceptions and desires is evident of that as well. Through much harrowing research, we have ascertained five categories of ethereal magic, or auramancy. Aurakinesis - The direct manipulation of the ether into tangible mass. It has mutable qualities, either brittle as glass or as strong as iron, and can be sent in directions at great speed. The natural state, that of the fluid, is easiest to maintain, while solids require more effort. The ether can interact with the world around it, moving things indirectly and inflicting harm upon others. Auratic Mesmer - A more subtle find. As the energy seems tied to the heart, one can impose their will directly on the will of others. This can lead to mind control, illusion, and suggestion, the golden speech told of in stories. There is a mental aspect to this, as the unwary and unprepared are more susceptible. In studies, subjects in discomfort and fear easily succumbed to it, as did those who were willing to be controlled. Auratic Vampirism - The results of this are not yet fully known. An older scholar was able to steal the ether of another, and in doing so, he became younger. The other researcher appeared unharmed, though fatigued and hungry. He slept for twelve hours after, while the now young man was energetic and manic for two days. Eventually, he began to show wrinkles again, though he still seems many less Suns than before. Ether appears tied to life force. Auratic Empathy - A tool many of the other forms utilize. Those who train to sense ether can view the motives, desires, and emotions of others as their own. Some claim to literally see the threads of ether tying all beings, reading the vibrations that travel across them. The temple priests grow restless at this knowledge, as it deviates from the scriptures that all men are independent and powerful in their own right. We may be interconnected, as the moon tribe preached. Auralysis - Most frighteningly, physical objects can be transitioned in between ether and matter. Ether pulled from souls cannot be made into physical objects, but objects that preexist can be turned into the energy, then absorbed into the soul. This is a dangerous magic. An underscholar was practicing incantations thought to be safe, but ended in her arm severing from her body. The limb was lost, though she says she still feels it in a cold and terrible place. She can seldom think with the constant experience. In conclusion, we found the magic of the moon tribe is viable and powerful, a good weapon for the Nurian army to adapt. The sun lord would hold no qualms with us using enemy tools to spread his glory, and as such we believe the priests have no grounds in their bickering. More forms of this fine elementalism most likely exist, and we request additional funding from the glorious Everflame to continue our groundbreaking research.
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#ed1717
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Annasiel
At last, my peace. I found it in her eyes.
369
Aug 13, 2015 22:40:06 GMT
August 2015
annasiel
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Post by Annasiel on Oct 18, 2015 5:57:28 GMT
The one called Estia, the lone Aeon of Order.At the beginning of time itself, many beings lived in the nameless dark. Some of these you know by the name of Divines; the ones who created the world you live in, the physical plane. But there were countless others, as the nameless dark was as endless as the names of all that is, and was and, all that will be. Some of these others were known to man as the Aeons. One of the Aeons in particular, called Estia, was different from her bretheren. While they were marked by a call to chaos, she favored the organized power of order. Binding herself and others like her with rules and creeds, she became a nuisance to the free-spirited Aeons of chaos, and a swift battle ensued. In the end, Estia was cast into a lifeless plane as exile, and the others left the darkness to form a plane of their own. But Estia was not defeated. Dominions, generals of the orderly plane.
Choristers, servants of order.
Martyrs, human servants of justice.
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#ed1717
2
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Annasiel
At last, my peace. I found it in her eyes.
369
Aug 13, 2015 22:40:06 GMT
August 2015
annasiel
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Post by Annasiel on Oct 19, 2015 19:10:12 GMT
Nuria, the Flame of the West
Artistic representation of Estia, Lady of the Dusk and goddess of the Elohim.
In the beginning, two great tribes walked the land of the Saladar crescent. Children on the winding river’s teat, they squabbled more than any other peoples could, for they hailed different deities above all others. The Nurians of the east praised the sun, and believed Alion, lord of dawn, was the king of all creation. The Elohim of the west instead praised his sister, Estia, the lady of the dusk. For thousands and thousands of years, the Nurians and Elohim fought, but in time the children of day gained the upper hand. For this, the Elohim believed themselves to be cursed by their once gentle goddess. Every time the moon grew full and round in harvest, a young girl was taken to the temple for sacrifice. Many children died. One survived. She was hailed as Estia born in human flesh, and feared as the cruel and judicious tyrant she was. She is remembered as the nameless queen, the demon goddess, the divine on earth. Her true title was lost to the ages, but her actions remain impacted on the history of the region. Artistic representation of Alion, Lord of the Dawn and god of the Nurians.Many reforms followed the ascension of the young queen, including the institution of a new calendar. Called the Estial Par, it measured the passage of time in lunar cycles in honor of the goddess of the Elohim. 10 moons after her rise, the regent left her native lands in pursuit of new conquests. Her dominion spread at a startling rate, soon encompassing much of the western world. The Nurians were left under the control of their most hated enemy, and faced incessant repression and abuse by the Elohim’s hand. 17 moons following the queen’s departure, a man by the name of Isaac lead a rebellion. At first, he was written off as a foolish dissenter, but most of the Nurians flocked to his banner. In a few short weeks, he had a mass of over two thousand. The underdog army defeated the local Elohim militia, and the nameless queen was forced to send one of her generals into the fray. After 9 moons of battles, Arl Lan quelled the rebels, and everything returned to the way it once had been. Isaac the Dissenter, martyred in the name of Nurian freedom. 73 moons after the ascent of the demon goddess, the Nurians grew desperate for aid. Mages among their ranks turned to demonic planes in search of greater power. This occult clan, hidden from the eyes of the Elohim, grew in power. Soon, the greatest mage among them rivaled the strength of the Everflame, the Nurian chieftain herself. Frightened of the power this man possessed, she gave him the title of Evershadow, and appointed him as her consultant among the secret armies of the children of the sun. 329 moons after the fateful coronation, the time for true war finally came. The queen, battling rivals in a distant land, vanished. No records account for what occurred, nor did any good speculations or deductions arise. The only thing important to the shackled tribe was the unbridled chaos her disappearance caused. When one builds a kingdom on domination and submission, the loss of a ruler is a frightful time. Sistre and Amar, the Everflame and Evershadow of the time, chose this time to act.
In only 3 moons, the Nurians had toppled their oppressors. Amar, however, desired more. The disciples of the Evershadow are always drawn to power, and their leaders are avatars of this lust. He intimidated his chieftain into giving him control, and the summoners spread on a rampant crusade across the fragile fragments of the Estial Empire. In the violent rampage, the Nurian Kingdom was born. 27 moons following the queen’s fall, Sistre put her foot down. Backed by the traditionalist druids, she insisted the ruthless pillaging stop. Instead, she proposed, positive relations could be made with the fledgling colonies. After all, both Nuria and their neighbors had been subjugated by the Estial dominion, and it was only right that they would help each other rise from the ruins. Amar saw the situation differently. The pieces of the empire were weak and helpless, ripe for assimilation into his rapidly spreading influence. The resulting civil war between druids and summoners lasted for 10 moons. At the Battle of the Basin, fought by an oasis to the west, Amar was killed by the Everflame’s followers. His body was cast into the waters, where it was said to burst into a brilliant blue blast before descending beneath the waters. A new Evershadow was chosen, Felsot, and he proved more sympathetic to the ideal of peace. Sistre and Felsot met by the side of the oasis, where the first draft of the Treaty of the Candle was scratched on a papyrus scroll.
“We are not to fight. Though we may hold different views, we are both descendants of fire. See the candle on the table at night. As the flame grows, so does the shadow, and as the shadow shrinks, so does the flame. No part holds control over the other, but instead they act together in harmony. In this peace, both flame and shadow can achieve more than anything warring with itself can accomplish. No good can come of a fractured whole.” The Treaty of the Candle ended the civil war and outlined the Nurian government.As a symbol of the tranquility between the rites, two buildings were built in the center of Nuria. One, a massive marble building adorned with a golden roof, was named Lanilin, the Pyramid of Light. The other, a domed complex crafted from glass formed black as night, was named Oshgihal, the Temple of Obsidian. These monuments served as both a visible contract and a center of life for the separate rights. The Everflame and Evershadow took residence in the halls, teaching the young and old alike in the magic of their heritage. 3 moons after the treaty was crafted and the buildings raised, a new government sprung forth from the Treaty of the Candle. The obsolete Estial Par was replaced by the Alion Par, based on the cycles of the sun. As described in the scroll, Sistre and Felsot ruled together over the kingdom, the one dealing in matters of peace and the other in matters of war. No wiser rulers ever held the thrones, though many more foolish or inept were to come.
Lanilin, the Temple of Light, home to the Everflame and her holy servants.Modern NuriaThe Everflame is the political leader of Nuria, dealing in matters of state and religion. She excels in defensive magic, a symbolic representation of her maternal care for the people. Every time an Everflame dies, a new one is chosen to partake in the Ritual of the Phoenix. Sylestra, the Everflame of Nuria. Adin, the Evershadow and tamer of Ifrits.
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#ed1717
2
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Annasiel
At last, my peace. I found it in her eyes.
369
Aug 13, 2015 22:40:06 GMT
August 2015
annasiel
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Post by Annasiel on Oct 21, 2015 2:20:04 GMT
Seanfear, the Warlock of the Glen "All living things hold mystery. I wish to unravel them."
Age: 75 Sex: Yes, please. Race: Human, though he thinks there was some gnome on his mom's side. Height: 5'8" Weight: 149 lbs
Geis Seabach
The Seabach is Seanfear's crowning creation, or so he chooses to believe. Craft from the elemental powers of wind and water, the Seabach is a hawk familiar capable of many magical feats. Seanfear affectionately named them after his old rival, Greisimn, and enjoys ordering them around because of it. The Seabach is very tough for its stature, able to take any blows a fighter could. However, they are unarmored, so die very easily to weapons and powerful spells. The two tiered higher forms of the Seabach, however, are much stronger. The first tier, considered "worldly", are comporable to a trained gladiator, while the "primordial" tier act as though they are in a full suit of armor. The second tier is strong enough to lift an average human.
Equipment
- a knife made of pure silver, around 5 inches in length. It has a ruby-encrusted hilt. - A 5'10" staff carved from mammoth bone. It serves to direct and amplify his magic. - The robes on his back, and a pair of worn sandals.
Combat Style
Seanfear relies on setting multiple events into motion at once, micromanaging the battlefield. He tries to defend against every possibility he can while fighting. If he is outnumbered or outmatched, he has no qualms about running away, and he won't chase a fleeing opponent. Honor is not really a concept he knows, but he doesn't care much for needless combat out of sheer laziness.
Spell Repositore
SPELL NAME | SPELL TYPE | INCANTATION | DESCRIPTION | REQUIREMENTS | MATERIALS | CASTING SPEED | GEIS SEABACH | Summon | "A dheanamh." | Calling upon the energies of wind and water, the caster creates a hawk elemental spirit. Upon being summoned, it perches somewhere near its caster, awaiting further instructions. The hawks themselves are average in size, with fierce talons and beaks as hard as blades. They possess a remarkable tenacity, able to absorb about three direct hits before dissipating. | A period of concentration lasting a single post while the elemental energy is being gathered. Only three familiars may be present at a time. | None | 1 post | SUMMON FAMILIAR | Mental Command | Teacht. | The commanded familiar immediately stops whatever task it is doing, and returns to the caster. If it is unable to return, it will become increasingly agitated and aggressive to whatever is holding it back. | None | None | Instant | CALL TO ATTACK | Mental Command | Mharu! | The familiar will immediately search out and try to destroy the pictured target, with no regard for its personal safety. It will only stop if it is killed or if the caster issues another, conflicting command. | A mental sensation pertaining to the target. This can be a name, a face, or even a scent, as long as it distinguishes who the hawk is attacking. | None | Instant | CALL TO DEFEND | Mental Command | Chosaint! | The hawk will immediately intercept the most dangerous incoming attack towards the protected target. If there are no threats, it will merely circle above, ready to block one when it does appear. | Like with the Call to Attack, a mental sensation is needed for a target to protect. If no source is given, the hawk will immediately default to defend the caster. | None | Instant | FETCH | Mental Command | Beir. | The familiar will fly in search of the requested item, bringing it back if it is able to. If it cannot, it will perch on or near it, and wait for the caster to find it. | Again, a mental sensation is needed, or a cognitive description of the item or item's location. | None | Instant | TACITURN | Mental Command | Cheilt. | By focusing on a single familiar, the caster renders it invisible to the basic human senses. It is a simple illusion, easily broken by detection magic or movement from the subject. The caster can also apply this spell to himself, for whatever nefarious, intrusive purpose he chooses. Pervert. | None | None | Instant | PHOENIX | Invocation | "Sruthan." | The targeted hawk bursts into flames as fire energy is pushed into its being. It can now be used to ignite flammable material or burn enemies. | The caster must focus on the mental link with the targeted hawk, gathering and channeling fire elemental energy. | None | 1 post | ELECTRAL | Invocation | "Forsa." | The familiar becomes ebued with lightning energy, shocking anything it touches. A faint crackling noise eminates as it flies while in this form. | Same as above, but with lightning energy. | None | 1 post | HOARFROST | Invocation | "Reo." | The hawk's outer exterior turns to ice, and a faint mist trail follows behind it. Those that touch its flesh unprotected may be afflicted with frostbite. | Same as above, but with ice energy. | None | 1 post | FIREBOLT | Mental Command | Tine. | The hawk begins charging for a firebolt attack on its intended target, flying around the victim's head all the while. When it is ready, it releases a blast of flame from its beak that explodes on contact. The firing of the blast may be delayed my caster command. | Phoenix must be active, a target must be pointed out through sight or finger. | None | The commands to charge and fire are instant, but the familiar must take a turn to charge before being able to fire. | THUNDERSTRUCK | Mental Command | Turraing. | The targeted familiar flies above an enemy, and releases a lightning bolt down. The bolt takes a moment to manifest, and is precursed by a crackle and the smell of ozone. The shock itself is relatively minor, only confusing and lightly harming. | Electral must be active, a target must be pointed out through sight or finger. | None | Instant, with a minor delay on the attack. | ICE SHIELD | Mental Command | Sciath. | The hawk flies in front of the caster with its wings extended, creating a barrier of ice between him and the most prevalent incoming attack. If the attack is physical, the shield will easily shatter, though provide relative hindrance towards the fighter. If the attack is magical, it is reflected back, though a strong enough magical attack will overload and destroy the mirror. | Hoarfrost must be active, the caster must be under attack. | None | Instant | HAWKSIGHT | Passive Action | None | By closing his eyes, Seanfear may see a live feed from a hawk's optical input. He may also take over the hawk, though his own body will be in a vulnerable, trance-like state. While in the hawk's mind, he can relay speech to those he wishes to, though the hawk itself is unable to speak while free from his influence. | Concentration on the targeted hawk's psychic link. | None | Continuous (Requires no activation, merely concentration on the phenomena.) | BARREL BLAZE | Mental Command | Tine casadh. | An augmentation on the firebolt attack, this again requires charging. While commencing the attack itself, the hawk begins to spin at intense speeds, increasing its firey output tremendously. It then propels itself in a straight line, boring a flaming hole in anything it strikes until it either loses momentum or hits an immotable object like the ground or a castle wall. This attack is easily dodged, as it cannot change direction while in effect. | Same as Firebolt. | None | Same as Firebolt. | FLASHBANG | Mental Command | Solas. | The hawk flaps its wings at supersonic speeds, letting out a loud noise and a brilliant flash of light. No damage is actually done, but the attack easily distracts or deters when unexpected. | Same as Thunderstruck. | None | Instant | WINTERGALE | Mental Command | Buille. | The targeted familiar creates a billowing, chilly breeze in a targeted direction. While this isn't strong enough to knock an enemy off-balance unless they are ridiculously clumsy, it will misdirect physical projectiles, fan flames, scatter papers, or anything else a moderate wind can do. | Hoarfrost must be active, a target must be pointed out through sight or finger. | None | Instant | SELF DESTRUCT | Mental Command | Bas. | A last ditch effort to distract an opponent or save Seanfear from telepathic attacks on his familiars. The targeted hawk begins to expand, and pops in a flurry of feathers like an overinflated balloon. | None | None | Instant | METEOR HAIL | Mental Command | Realta. | The hawk charges for a long period of time. When it is ready and signaled to attack, it fires a barrage of tiny fireballs into the air above the opponent. They fall like hellish rain from the sky, causing intense burn damage to exposed flesh and physical damage to armor. | Same as Firebolt. | None | Two turns for the familiar to charge, though the commands to charge and attack are instant. | MINEFIELD | Mental Command | Urlar. | A bolt of energy is released from the targeted familiar into the ground. Anyone near the strike is shocked through their feet, causing distraction, loss of balance, and general hotfooted discomfort. Collateral damage is possible. | Same as Thunderstruck. | None | Instant | AERIAL ASCENSION | Mental Command | Ardu. | The targeted hawk creates an upward gust around the target, suctioning it into the air. This ability has a giant drawback; there are no landing gears. The higher the caster allows the target to go, the more painful the ground impact will be. If the suctioned target struggles, it can easily escape the vortex. | Same as Wintergale. | None | Instant | DANTE | Invocation | "Sruthan mor!" | An augmentation on Phoenix. The hawk grows twice its size, taking in more fire energy than before, and literally becomes a body of flame. Embers fly off of it like from a roaring fireplace, and the heat felt by those nearby is intense. All abilities requiring Phoenix can be used, and are tripled in strength. Additionally, the Call to Defend is no longer usable, but the Call to Attack shoots a beam of violent heat instead of a physical attack. | Phoenix must be active. The caster must focus on the mental link with the targeted hawk, gathering and channeling fire elemental energy. | None | 1 post | THOR | Invocation | "Forsa mor!" | An augmentation on Electral. The hawk doubles in size from an increase in lightning energy. It becomes so brilliant it is difficult to look at, and hairs stand on end in its presence. All abilities requiring Electral can be used at double strength. Call to Attack and Call to Defend are no longer usable, but the bird can teleport short distances for its other abilities. | Electral must be active. The caster must focus on the mental link with the targeted hawk, gathering and channeling lightning elemental energy. | None | 1 post | TITANIC | Invocation | "Reo mor!" | An augmentation on Hoarfrost. The hawk doubles in size, taking in more ice energy than before. Vegetation freezes to death around it, everywhere it touches leaves frost, and icicles fall in its wake. All abilities requiring Hoarfrost can be used at double strength. Call to Attack is no longer usable, but Call to Defend erects a story tall, foot thick ice wall in front of the caster. | Hoarfrost must be active. The caster must focus on the mental link with the targeted hawk, gathering and channeling ice elemental energy. | None | 1 post | PRIMORDIAL INFERNO | Familiar Primordial | "Naimhde mianach sruthan." | A basic primordial spell. The caster's target is surrounded by a thirty-foot wall of flames, which slowly expands inward. When the circle closes, it explodes in a brilliant pillar of firey radiance. | A Dante familiar must be present. The ash is scattered into the wind, and a target is named. The familiar spreads its wings, and on the turn following the incantation, the spell will take place. | A vial of ash. If this is not included, the spell will function, but the familiar will revert back to base form. | 1 post | PRIMORDIAL CANTOR | Familiar Primordial | "Lig an torann a bheith ar mo chumhacht." | A basic primordial spell. An unearthly wail comes from the mouth of the familiar, sending terror into the hearts of all that hear it. The hawk then flaps its waves with a massive boom capable of harming hearing. | A Thor familiar must be present. The incantation is spoken slowly, and the leaf is ripped in half. As the leaf is ripped, the familiar will effect the spell. | A dead leaf. If this is not included, the spell will function, but the familiar will revert back to base form. | 1 post | PRIMORDIAL MIST | Familiar Primordial | "Ta clear mo chara amhain." | A basic primordial spell. A thin haze descends on the battlefield, obscuring everything in sight. It is frigid to the touch, inhibiting movement to the point of hypothermia. | A Titanic familiar must be present. The incantation is spoken while the bell is chimed. The fifth chime must signal the end of the words, and the mist will soon follow. | A silver bell. If this is not included, the spell will function, but the familiar will revert back to base form. | 1 post | PRIMORDIAL HURRICANE | Weather Primordial | 1) "stoirm dona mor!"
2) "chloisteail mo caoin!"
3) "scrios mo naimhde!" | A hurricane forms in the immediare area. It may take several minutes after the ritual ends to form, depending on the conditions of the current weather and how much they have to be altered. The storm brings heavy rain, gale-force winds, and lightning. Once it forms, the caster has no control, so he and all affected must ride out the storm. | The first line is spoken as the caster cuts into the wood with the silver knife. A stroke must be cut for each syllable spoken. When the second part is spoken, the caster must prick his thumb, and smear blood down the lines. Finally, the caster takes the fint and steel, burns the wooden tablet, and inhales the ashes before speaking the final line. | A wooden tablet made of oak, a silver knife, flint and steel. | 5 posts: One for part 1, one for part 2, two for part 3, and the actual spell cast on the fifth post. | PRIMORDIAL BLIZZARD | Weather Primordial | 1) "teacht chugam, sneachta."
2) "Ba mhaith liom a itheann tu." | The sky darkens, temperatures drop, and heavy snow begins to fall. It obscures sight to the point where one may get lost in the storm. Snow falls for an indefinite time, though usually raises to two feet at the very least. After the snow stops, it may take days for the temperature to return to normal and the snow to melt. | As the caster chants the first part of the spell, he cuts himself with the knife and allows the bloos to drip into the water. As the second part is spoken, the yak hair is dipped into the bloody water, and shaken in the air frenetically. | A vial of water, a silver knife, the hair of a northern yak. | 4 posts: One for part 1, two for part 3, and the actual spell is cast on the fourth post. | PRIMORDIAL QUAKE | Weather Primordial | 1) "Is maith leis a bhogadh bhogadh."
2) "Is maith leis a bhogadh bhogadh."
3) "Is maith linn a bhogadh... bhogadh!" | As the caster strikes his staff into the ground, a wave of seismic force erupts around him. The result of this is devestating, collapsing buildings and opening crevices in the crust of the earth. Anyone short of a cat god will be knocked to their feet, and damage from excessive trauma, falling debris, and sinkholes is very likely. | The husk of the worm is ground into dust with the two rocks, and the beak is thrown over the left shoulder. The lines are spoken in a sing-song voice, while the caster gyrates his hips. At the end of every line, the rocks are clapped together. As the last line is spoken, the rocks are dropped, and a staff driven into the ground. | Two rocks, a staff, an eagle's beak and an earthworm's husk. | Six posts: Two to prepare, one for each part, and one to actually cast the spell. | PRIMORDIAL VOLCANO | Weather Primordial | 1) "pian , sruthan tine te."
2) "Ni mo mhathair!" | The earth begins to rumble as magma pushes its way to the surface. The targeted area bulges, and then erupts in a spew of burning hot lava. This is not recommended to cook food, unless you enjoy your steaks at the 'incinerated' level. There is no easy cleanup like many of the other spells; the lava cools, hardens, and remains as a physical entity long after the spell is cast. | The effigy is wrapped in the paper, and the grapes chewed. As soon as the flesh of the fruit pops, the candle is used to light the paper, and the burning ball is thrown in the direction the volcanic geyser is desired. The spell is quickly chanted. | A lit candle, two grapes, an effigy of a hamster, and a piece of paper. | Four posts: Two to prepare, one for both parts 1 and 2, and one to cast the actual spell. | PRIMORDIAL FOREST | Weather Primordial | "Ag fas , siol , ag fas." | Undoubtedly the easiest of the primordial spells to cast, and for good reason. A forest swiftly grows around the caster. A forest. No flashing lights, big explosions, death toll in the millions. Just a bunch of newborn trees that probably don't know how to chlorophyll yet. They can't even impale enemies, growing around any obstacles that may be in their way. | The acorn is planted in the soil, and the words are whispered tenderly. | An acorn, or some other tree seed. | Two posts: One to plant the seed, one to say the incantation. | PRIMORDIAL WOODBIRTH | Summon Primordial | "Bi saor in aisce, Antioch." | The ground breaks, and from its depths rises a 50-story-tall treefolk, Antioch, made of intertwined branches and roots. The creature is incredibly slow for a being of its size, but its strength and stanima are astonishing. Usually, this is the time enemies go running away, screaming like children. | All three primordial familiars must be present, and primordial forest must be present. The knife is used to cut the caater's arm, and all three familiars drink from the wound. The caster then walks among the trees, smearing his blood on the bark while chanting the incantation over and over. After every tree is marked, Antioch will arise in the center of the forest. | A silver knife. | Generally nine to ten posts, to complete all the preperations and the ritual. |
Dante FamiliarThor FamiliarTitanic FamiliarBiographyI bet you duddering muletards have heard of Greisimn, the great Eldritch Knight, hero of the war against Sayre and legend of the people.
Well, you see, he's nothing more than a sodding asshead. I knew Greisimn, back at the academy. We could even be called friends. Friendly rivals, at least. We learned from each other, pranked together (though he wasn't the most into it), and beat each other up with the most brilliant magic students of our age have ever done. Probably.
But Greisytits went AWOL after the battle against the Blood King, and is probably dead. At least, that's the official idea. Knowing the scumwitted bastard, he's got us all fooled.
Ass.
Oh, is this not enough of a story for you? You want to know more about my life?
Fudge off, you stalkery stiltwagon.
Seanfear was born on a farm in Etirath’s east, amidst the cottages and plains of rurality.
His parents were simple folk. Cattle herders, the both of them, in a family of cattle herders that stretched backward to oblivion. They loved their son with all their rustic hearts, don’t get me wrong, but ever since he was three they knew something was odd with the boy. It was the day he first found magic.
“Mommy! Mommy!” Little Sean ran into the house, all the joy of a toddler on his cherubic face. His mother, at this time a radiant woman of thirty, was working on her loom.
“Yea, Seanny?” she asked, brushing the wooden wheel to a stop with the flat of her palm. She always made sure to make time for her son’s enthusiasms. Her own mother had been distant, a firm believer in rugged individualism, and as a result her childhood had been utterly miserable. It was her goal that Seanfear would not suffer the same fate. As her eyes fell on her child, they made note of a very interesting detail. His clothes were singed. Not singed on the edges, like the boy had been playing with fire again, but thoroughly riddled with blackened holes all across the surface. “What… what happened there ta youse shirt?”
“It got burnted. Watch!” The tyke held out a hand and concentrated. His mother watched in equal parts worry and bemusement. The humor quickly faded when a flaming little chick appeared on the boy’s outstretched palm, and began clambering over his body. The fibers of the shirt curled in its presence, yet Seanfear’s flesh remained remarkably unharmed. This reassurance did little to stop his mother. Quick as a beaver at a lumber sale, she snatched the bitty birdie, and tossed it into the fireplace. It chirped loudly, and vanished with a puff of smoke.
“What tha crimson dragonfire’s name was that?!” she shouted, suddenly in the young boy’s face with the ire only an anxious mother could bring.
“Mommy… I… I don’t know, it be… it just be sumethin’ I do…” Seanfear responded between chokes =and tears. He rubbed an arm against his beet-red eyes, utterly confused at how he brought such anger upon himself. “I din think it was wrong, doin’ it…”
His mother’s terrible gaze softened.
“Oh, sweetie. Seanny. Come ‘ere, darling. You did nuthin’ wrong, dearie. You just be scarin’ momma all like.” She wrapped her own arms, thick and tan from hours in the open field, around her shivering child. “Just… don’t be doin’ that again.”
“I won’t, mommy.” Seanfear promised. In retrospect, that might have been the first time he consciously, willingly lied to his own mother. He loved her with all his toddler heart, but it had been too fun an experience to give up. Too exhilarating. Still, he practiced this skill in secret, not wanting to invoke the wrath of his mother. And so this went on until he was twelve, cocky and eager to show off his worth.
“Gotta light?” his father asked, reclining lazily in a rocker on the porch. Seanfear was nearby, playing with sticks. When his dad spoke, he glanced up, though the question was obviously not directed at him. His mother, the intended recipient, shook her head ruefully.
“Nay, hun. Used tha last ta light tha cookin’ fire,” she replied. His father grunted.
“Guess dat means I need ta buy more tha ness time tha pawn man comes,” he finally said, the disappointment clear in his gruff, rugged voice. Seanfear popped up from where he sat, his mouth racing ahead of his mind.
“I can help, papa,” he said quickly. He began to wave his hands in the air, mumbling like one of those gray-haired hobos with a few screws loose. The air whispered back, and a tiny, flaming bird appeared between his circling palms. It squawked merrily, ejaculating a tiny ember towards his father. Needless to say, the man freaked out.
“Tha fuggin heck!” he shouted, falling over in his chair. The ember sailed harmlessly over his head, landing on the dry wood of the patio. It began to smolder. “Tha hell! Divines have mercy, oh, my head!”
“SEANFEAR DAMASCUS!” the boy’s mother shrieked, racing over to the awestruck boy. She boxed him on the ear with all her strength, sending him spinning to the ground. “I told ya not ta do that shite!”
Seanfear sat on the grass, stars dancing in his eyes.
“If... if he hadn’t moved, it woulda hit his smoke,” he mumbled, but he knew it was a sorry excuse. He had done the unspeakable act in front of his parents, the thing that had made his mother turn maelstrom about a decade before. Kinda funny it took this long to come to light, that he was practicing in secret. Seanfear was terrible at secrets.
“Egads, boy,” his father groaned, clambering to his feet and stomping out the tiny fire. “Are ya tryin’ ta kill me? Whyncha tell me you could do tha stuff?”
“Momma… momma said not to do it…” he replied, staring at his hands shame-faced.
“Momma did, eh?” The man turned to his wife. “Martha, we need ta talk. Stay here, boy.”
His parents disappeared into the house. Too upset to continue playing, Seanfear remained on the ground, staring blankly at the shack. Occasionally, he could hear raised voices from within.
“Watcha mean, devil magic? Woman, have ya seen tha sorcerers back in tha capital? Our boy could be famous!”
“I ain’t having no child o’ mine tainted by tha evil wizards and their faithless practice! You saw what ma brother does, he no Divine-fearin’ man!”
Eventually, the couple returned outside, the mother crying and the father
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Annasiel
At last, my peace. I found it in her eyes.
369
Aug 13, 2015 22:40:06 GMT
August 2015
annasiel
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Post by Annasiel on Oct 25, 2015 3:22:35 GMT
DRAK
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#ed1717
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Annasiel
At last, my peace. I found it in her eyes.
369
Aug 13, 2015 22:40:06 GMT
August 2015
annasiel
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Post by Annasiel on Jan 11, 2016 21:14:46 GMT
Etirath Updates - 1/xx/2016 The following changes and revisions have been made to the site:-Players are no longer hard-limited to how many characters they may use, or how powered said characters may be. What is allowed is up to the discretion of the staff.-Theolandra's Palace, City Guard Headquarters, and Waters of the World, originally separate categories, are now headed under the single category of Government Landmarks.Theolandra's Palace: m.kingdomofetirath.proboards.com/board/45/theolandras-palace City Guard Headquarters: m.kingdomofetirath.proboards.com/board/26/city-guard-headquarters Waters of the World: m.kingdomofetirath.proboards.com/board/14/waters-world-A shoutbox for online chatting now exists, located at the bottom of the site.-A Coliseum has been added to the Colleges of Etirath for use in ranked and unranked fights, as well as kingdom tournaments.The Coliseum: m.kingdomofetirath.proboards.com/board/42/coliseum-Lore has been added to expand on The History of Etirath and The Divines.The History of Etirath: m.kingdomofetirath.proboards.com/thread/42/history-etirathThe Divines: m.kingdomofetirath.proboards.com/thread/32/divines-gods-etirath-Board moderators have been replaced with the titles of Lord and Lady, and board administrator with Queen. Additionally, the new post ranks are Commoner, Tenant, Thane, and Vassal.
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#ed1717
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Annasiel
At last, my peace. I found it in her eyes.
369
Aug 13, 2015 22:40:06 GMT
August 2015
annasiel
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Post by Annasiel on Jan 22, 2016 16:44:44 GMT
The Forsaken Ones~ ~Ser Godfried LelmontAge: 36Gender: MaleHeight: 6'1Weight: 182 lbs~~ Lenore Dimsied, Esquire to Ser LelmontAge: 21 Gender: Female Height: 5'6 Weight: 129 lbs ~ Two weary travelers walked the path, not penny nor power to either a name. Two weary travelers walked the path, aburdened by tense apprehension of blame. A wandering heart from a faltering past, and a lasting impression of alien fate, They walked hand in hand, and would ne'er apart, until come the end of their days.
"My new-found friends, gather round. Bear with a tired, old knight and listen to a story. I won't guarantee any listening value other than the morals it may hold within your ears, but see in your mind and heart that morals are worth more than blighted entertainment. More than even the tallest coffers of gold in the castle of an emperor. True lessons bring wisdom in time, the greatest gift of all. I wish with all my being someone had told this story to me, long before, and with it the warnings it entails... but then I would not be here today. And this story would not exist, of course, so how I would have heard it I cannot fathom. Now... how to begin? I suppose many tales start with the same old line, and mine is a tale enough to follow that tradition. So... once upon a time... there was a grand king."
He was not a noble king, nor was he a bold one. In fact, his vices far outshone his virtues, if any virtues dwelt within his soul to begin with. Born into his blood and wealth and power, he knew not the burdens that the crown was meant to shoulder, and instead gave in to hedonistic ways unfit for any proper ruler. It was his divine right to rule, after all. The gods and fate were in accordance with that. And as long as he sat on the throne of his ancestors, his decision was as powerful as an edict of Den himself. His father had passed away when he was quite young, and his mother fell into delusions that required institution. Locked in her tower keep, far away from prying eyes and condescending lips, she wailed endlessly about death and dereliction. The cries brought fear and sorrow to the young king's heart, but he did not have the will to put the woman out of misery. So, unsatisfied with neither death nor familial duty, he ignored the piteous banshee, her screams only intruding in his sweat-soaked dreams. They were not the only nightmare in his life. The crown had many enemies, so paranoia took a stand, as did the apprehension that he would fail his mission as ruler. The latter may have been some unconscious warning, or even a message from Lady Fate herself, but in any case it went unheeded. The royal child took a shaman instead, to melt away the terrors with acid brews, the fumes of which were almost as sickening as the dreams themselves.
From a tiny age the king showed fondness for the lavish. He drowned his troubled mind in wines and spirits, and called for the presence of beautiful serving girls to cater to his every whim. He came to expect attention from the snap of his fingers, and even went as far to expect anticipation of the finger-snapping itself. As no man, or no man without magic, can read another's mind, many servants faced the ire of the child. Slowly but certainly, the spoilment was turning him into a tyrant. The disconnect between king and people only widened as he busied himself with distractions. Much of the kingdom's running was left to the avaricious advisors, whose every policy enacted served to brighten their green-eyed glow. The people grew restless, the people grew disheartened, the people grew angry. What was once a prosperous land was now the personal gag-show of a prepubescent dictator. Revolt was believed impossible, though, for the court was cunning as they were greedy. They lined the pockets of mercenaries, who in turn lined the streets of the palace city. Any dissent was met with brutal force, a guillotine to the tongue of any possible rebellion. And so the resentment grew.
As the sovereign aged, so his maturity changed. Not as in the case of a well-refined cordial, sweetening and widening in scope of flavor, but more like a farmer's cheese, growing more sharp and pungent in time. His tastes turned more from the lavish to the carnal, taking to bed any girl around that seemed to catch his fancy. Many woman were more than willing to lie in bed with a man of such position, either out of lust for power or love of all his assets, but those that did not were forced to feign enthusiasm. The king believed himself irresistible in his egoistic view. And thus, it came as a terrible shock when one woman refused him outright, spurning his advances and turning his hand out of hatred for him and his character. The king new some people disliked him; he was not a total fool. But his advisors had convinced him the dissenters were few and far apart, and were all old lunatics with few wits and teeth to spare. When this gorgeous young girl with heart-shaped lips and doe eyes spit the things alleged to the courts of idiocy, the young noble's world took a monstrous shaking. It did not help that her beauty only seemed to grow in her denial, enticing the king's libidinal lust into a covenant with the forbidden. He needed her. He needed her for her refutations, for her unobtainable glamour, for her caramel skin and chocolate curls.
What happened next is tied between the lips of gods and demons. Some say a great monster possessed the young king, fooling him from whatever scant wisdom he might have had. Others say the king himself was the monster, with no care for consequence or propriety, acting only for his own personal gain. I prefer to hold a view that rests between them... no beast took control of the young man's hand, he acted entirely of his own accord. What he did that night was his to bear the blame of. However, the king was not without remorse, nor did he not regret every mortal sin he had committed. On one evening, when the harvest moon shone bright and roguish in the wispy cauldron sky, the king stole out to find the girl who had rejected him. She was the daughter of a tanner, but her father was away on some merchant's voyage. Left alone in a tawdry house with only the wind and the dust for company, nothing stood between the man and what he wanted. The king knocked on the door. The girl answered in an innocent daze, her supple calves slightly apart beneath a cotton bed-gown. She peeped through the opening of the door, still rubbing her eyes from a musky slumber. She did not recognize the man behind it.
"Can I... can I help you?" she asked, ready to slam the panel and latch the slide-lock if need be. Perhaps a more cautious head would have saved her that night. No right-minded lady, powerful and poor alike, answered a knocking in the witching hour. But the tanner's girl had too much faith in her judgement and reaction, too much credence in the kingdom's safety, too much naivety about the monsters that prowl in the dark. A swift push of a shoulder sent her reeling back, and the king was through the door. As he lowered his hood, recognition dawned on the young woman's face.
"You..." she said. "What are you doing here? Get out of my house! Get out!" She had awakened in full, her gorgeous features torn with worry and ire. As if pulled by some unknown force, the noble staggered across the floor, cocking a hand behind his head and swinging it across her flushing face. With the sound of a horse-whip, she dropped to the floor in a graceless pirouette. If you would ask the king why he acted the way he had that night, he would not be able to tell you. I believe a darkness lies in the root of all mortals, longing for a time to rear its hideous face, and that it can make anyone act like the hand of a devil in passion. Taken up in a dreamlike trance, carnal thirst and euphoria driving his pummeling heart, the king descended on the girl. For a great many minutes, the king had his way with his supine prey. It wasn't until he released his seed that the fury in turn released his will. Rising, aching, covered in scratches and bruises, the king stared at the deed he had wrought. The tanner's daughter lay naked on the floor, shivering and decrepit, her doey eyes turned hollow as a gypsy's heart. She was bleeding as well, but did no effort to staunch it, only curling into the crimson mess betwixt her thighs. The young man had to bite back a scream.
"I don't... I..." he couldn't talk, so he heaved instead, adding more to the splattered mess on the desecrated floor. Backing away, the king turned and fled.
The girl survived, but she had truly died that night. When a neighbor checked in the next morning, made worried by the open, swinging door, what he found was little more than a husk of what once lived. She lost all voice and will, becoming nothing better than a corpse with breath. A less scrupulous man would rejoice in this news. Without a tongue to tell, how could a rapist take blame for his deplorable acts? But the king had more morality than his opposition would claim. A part of him, too, died that night, a suicide of innocence and peace of paltry mind. He began to draw more and more into himself, shutting out his advisors and his aides, furtively secreting away to his shadowy chambers. Rumors ran that the king had fallen ill. A sickness had taken him, but it was more one of mind than of body. Thoughts filled his head in the self-inflicted isolation. Dancing ghosts with monstrous faces, chanting about hell and punishment and tainted spirit. Every now and then, one of their mouths would let loose a familiar, haunting scream that could have only come from lips long locked in death. The king's dear, mad mother, driven to suicide not half a decade before, coming back to reprimand her forsaken child. You have failed us, you have failed yourself, the screeches seemed to say. You deserve your golden name even less than your father and I, you are the worst thing to come to our kingdom! Covering his ears but not escaping their accusations, the cursed young man cried himself to sleep for the better part of a year. It was in those later months that a chance at salvation came in the shape of a peculiar bundle on the castle stoop.
One of the serving maidens found it. The poor servant had been heading out to the well for a bucket of water to wash the linens when she caught sight of the small lump. At first, the servant thought it to be a pile of cloth she had somehow pulled along outside, but when she reached down to touch it, it moved. She screamed bloody murder. The workers of the castle were in for a sight to see this once rational woman fleeing deep into the walls, bellowing about demons on the doorstep and redemption from the abyss. Maybe in an earlier time, such a spectacle would be spelled off as stress or disease, but the entire household had been swayed by the somber aura of their monarch. A shadow had descended on their eyes and hearts. Maybe the father's young death and mother's descent into madness were only the heralds of a great curse on this family. Maybe they would all be dragged into this inevitable war with demon-kind. So a group of the bravest men gathered some weapons from the armory and cautiously approached the door. A sword-point swept away the tinted swaddles... and a little coo met it. Immediately, the strong men, so timid in their supernatural paranoia, were filled with deepest embarrassment. It was only a baby. After a quick search nearby for the obviously nonexistent mother, they brought the infant in to the nurses of the hold, who began to fuss over it with terrifying fervor. It was a welcome distraction, and a new experience, for them. With all the gloom and doom... with the only other child that had been in their care now locked away in his room... it gave them a fire of heart that was long unknown inside these stony halls.
And as for the king, he quickly found out. It seemed almost like he was waiting for the news. As soon as a knuckle knocked on his chamber door, the wooden board swung open, and the pallid, harrowed man exited without a word. He had heard in his dreams his redemption was coming. He had sinned, and he came to terms with that. This was the universe's chance to give him succor, to heal the wounds he had dealt the best he could, to become a new man. As the young monarch walked into the nursery, as he lay his hand on the animated bundle, a low crinkle rose from a buried present. "Here is the fruit of our loins, my liege," the note buried in the sheets read. "I want you to have it. I can't stand to live with it any longer." He didn't need the note to know where the baby had come from. The dreams, and his bitter intuition, told well enough. But the missive still lent a special gravity to the find, a sense of seriousness that would lack without its accusatory message. This child was his consequence. The fate of his failure. Born of monstrosity, so it would be the king's gods-given duty to make certain a monster the child would not become.
"Her name will be Lenore," the monarch finally spoke. "After Eleanor, my mother. And Dimsied, out of the evil that burrows its roots in us all. May such an evil never take over her heart, as mine is already tainted soil." It was the first time he had spoken in a year outside of grunts and screams. His voice was hoarse, an earthy rasp that conveyed more of a difference of decades than months. All the attendants in the room grew silent at the sound of it. "Why do you stand there gawking?" the king said. "Back to work. I have... duties to attend to."
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#ed1717
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Annasiel
At last, my peace. I found it in her eyes.
369
Aug 13, 2015 22:40:06 GMT
August 2015
annasiel
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Post by Annasiel on Jul 11, 2016 2:56:56 GMT
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