Forett

The Prince's Royal Guard

“After you,” Drana thanked her god that they were leaving this somewhat awkward encounter. She made her way to the battlefield with Acrius without speaking. She was deep in her own thoughts, wondering how she was going to play off being in the sewers of some far off city without having to explain the ‘undead’ issue.

Her brief respite had done her well physically, but magically she only had her domain to rely on. If she used her staff too much she would risk permanently draining some of the crystals. Best to keep it to one more arcane spell. The rest would need to be cantrips or spells she could cast without the need of the staff.

It was no sooner than they had arrived that the prince himself made an appearance. Drana was so obsessed with tending to wounded men on the wall that she failed to notice the importance of the matter. She made her way to Acrius, seeing that he was one of the few archers with enough stamina to sustain fire. As the pot of boiling oil was prepared she made her move. Touching Acrus’ shoulder, she commanded her magic. “Nomag dout cha'sid qe steady lae wux regipre wer irlym vi marfedelom persvek ixen.” No sooner than she had finished speaking than the arrow Acrius had notched radiate in an unnatural fire that did not harm him. His hands glowed with a faint green wisp, and steadied significantly.

Drana kept her hand on Acrius shoulder, concentrating to keep the spell active. She was relieved to hear a voice other than her own command Acrius to fire his arrow. If they could end this troll then she could see to the wounds of any who were here. More importantly, she would be finished casting spells. She was tired, she had not had to cast this many spells in a single day since she had completed her training.

Dragon Hunter. (18+) (Updates)

20%

A tale of two cities athe the political intrigue that surrounds them. We would get together to design a few cities (2-3) and then start throwing characters into them! This setting would drive for different alignments and how they may effect the outcomes of predetermined events.

To explain, we set up a monarchy that is based on a family line of elves. A war happens due to a player owned underworld faction manipulating the kingdom, and now we play out what goes down! This is a more advanced roleplay idea, as it will at the very minimum have each of us running more than 10 characters. This idea combines well with many other ideas as well!

Ruby sin

A bit of a smut heavy romantic rp, this idea comes from the idea of a barbarian falling for a very civilized empress, and vice versa… but the ability for them to come together would make them enemies to their own peoples. Meeting in secret is their only option for now, but how long will it take for them to be found out?

DESTRUCTION!

What if YOU were the guy causing the apocalypse? How would you go about doing it? Who are you?
I will be making resistance and opposition that resists your form of steady progress. Be that a demon lord and minions or a simple crime lord who gets more ambition than is normal. This is another strong mixer!

The Prince's Royal Guard

The holiday rush has come to a close for me!

The Prince's Royal Guard

Drana would slowly get to her feet, thinking of a healing word but daring not to use it until she had a short rest to recuperate. She would pull out a potion, moving over to Acrius despite her injuries to give him the potion. She could not tell if he was injured due to the mixture of blood and sewage that had been from the fight and the multiple explosions. “Drink this, we must move to assist the men here before we take our leave. This potion should heal your wounds.” She would push it into his hands, quickly reeling about to try and move over to assist the men who had finished cleaning up a few stragglers. She could see a few men were beyond saving, but there was one who could be spared from death.

She was oblivious to the absence of her two knights.

Dana's spell was impressive, to say the least. Acrius expected to be blasted to be more… exploded, but there he was, alive and standing- not a single scratch on him. He glanced at the collapsed tunnel, "I hope Gramps and Leo don't mind us redecorating of the sewers… " He mumbled to himself before a potion was shoved onto his hands, ”I don't need this, your spell made sure of that."

Acrius hoisted himself up and patted his shoulders. ”Malfoy," He threw the potion into the boy's hands, ”Your shoulder looks banged up, drink."

Acrius walked faster to catch up with Drana, ”Appreciate the assistance, Cleric Drana," He said, ”... Speaking of, where are the Paladins? Don't tell me they-"

Drana would look around, seeing that they were nowhere to be found she would look hesitant to answer the question. She would stutter before responding with a quick “We will worry about those who are alive, then we will find those who are not.” before looking more solemn than she had prior.

Drana hated having to bring back her knights, it was an arduous process that often made it difficult to hide their identities. Many towns had run them off, some even going as far as to openly claim that the only reason she wasn’t hanged was due to the Sacred Order’s sigil. She did not fault them, but that was neither here nor there.

With a nod, she would continue over to the men who were a few moments beyond death. “Come, I will need you to make sure no one attacks me.” Drana would not wait, every second was a second closer to their departure. There would only be two she could save, and so she fell into her work. With a flick of her hand her eyes would glow as she placed her other hand on the still warm body of a soldier who had been bludgeoned in the head by debris. Moments later, his chest would rise and fall. By no means was he healed to normal health, merly stabilized so that he could receive proper treatment. She would then begin to move on to the other barring she could… blood now dried to her dirty face.

Acrius arched an eyebrow. Either this girl was the strongest person he's met or she was the type to bury herself in work to forget… or it was something else entirely. He wouldn't pry, however, most had their secrets.

Acrius could only nod at her request. ”Rest is also important, Cleric Drana, so don't push yourself too hard," He said simply, not realizing the irony of him, of all, suggesting it, ”I am no magician but using spell after spell has to be tiring." As they walked around, he watched her work. He'd never seen a cleric at work and it was something else. No soldier would be so ungrateful to attack someone healing their comrade at arms, right?

A voice came from the soldiers, "See what I said? She's a witch I tell ya." It was the soldier he had 'trained' with earlier in the day, "I say we tie her up and arrest her, she's likely working for the goblins!"

This soldier, James Albright, looked much less worn out and cleaner than the others. Even more so than Malfoy, who did his fair share after he returned. His blue eyes had a glint of lechery, an ulterior motive in mind. James made a move to the Cleric, rope in hand.

Acrius 'accidentally' let a throwing dagger fly, narrowly missing James' face. ”Apologies, it somehow slipped from my hand due to the blood." He moved to retrieve the dagger.

"You again!" James spat out, recognizing the man who utterly humiliated him earlier in the March, "Heh even you can't stop it, I've received orders from my captain, you damned conscript."

”Oh?" Acrius replied, thoroughly unimpressed, ”Unfortunately, I likely can. " He let his royal sigil dangle from his hands, signifying his part as of the royal retinue. It was like a captain directly challenging a decision from the royal family. Acrius internally apologized to Balthazar for technically abusing his role. He also didn't really receive any orders like that.

The captain would call back the peeved off James and decided to leave the matter to Acrius. He didn't want to be the one who questioned the royal family.

Drana was too tired to fight. After casting the two cantrips, she would ease back and debate using potions instead of her cantrips… when she checked her bag, the approaching man with rope would attract her attention. She would stand up, her demeanor changing as she partially hugged her staff as though it would offer her some form of protection. It hadn’t been the first time she was deemed ‘witch’.

Before she uttered the words to summon her knights, Acrius would throw a dagger at the man to ‘sway’ the queer lad’s opinion. She was relieved, summoning her followers would not aid her in swaying her title of witch. If anything, it would earn her the true title of necromancer.

“Thank you, Acrius.” She would speak softly, realizing the toll that high level spell had taken on her. While cantrips used a negligible amount of magic, her staff had more than enough energy stored for her more advanced magics. The gems were not glowing with their usual vibrance. “You seem to be a little more than just some ‘conscript’, Acrius… What does that badge stand for?”

"In a way, conscript is my rank, a very lucky one," Acrius replied, keeping an eye on James, ”Honestly I was paying half attention when Siegfried told me of its significance but… screw it, you've earned this much. I am part of His Majesty Prince Leonidas' royal guard."

Acrius at least knew that almost all humans in the kingdom knew of the royal family. Hopefully that provided enough to sate the Cleric's curiosity. ”We'll be making our way to meet dear old gramps before doing anything else when you're ready."

Drana understood why he had done what he had done now… but if the royal guard was here, that would mean that… “Is the prince… here? In this battle?” Was there a war going on? If the prince was in open combat it had to be very bad. Her concern would multiply as her own thoughts collided with the reality that these men had more than just suspicions of her craft.
“We should leave quickly, I need to meet this gramps character.” Drana was used to people who disregarded authority given her position as a cleric. Acrius’ lax attitude was one of the few reliefs within these tunnels. That and his ability to fight.
Drana would move away from the men, trying her best not to instigate anything further. “Lets be on our way,”

Acrius straightened his back and checked his bearings. He had all of his gear and was ready to leave, "If you loved my humour, you'll love Balthazar's."

Drana’s concern was visible, but she did not say anything rude.

---

---

The walk to the keep was long and brisk. The battle still rages around then, giving a surreal sort of feeling as they trod through the streets. The duo separated from the contingent of soldiers. Acrius didn't make any small talk other than some questions about her order and a few about the Paladins. He was very surprised at how steely she appeared in the face of all of this.

Drana did not look as stern as she had at the moment after the blast. She did not shirk away from questions, eager to respond to anything that would take her mind from the present state of things. She would tell Acrius that the order was in and around the Black Desert and assisted in guiding the undead to rest. She would throw in that they also helped people pass safely through the more unsavory parts of the land. She would tell Acrius that she was a cleric of death, one chosen by her order. It wasn’t a lie, but the truth could be told later when there was no risk of losing her only ally. “The knights will be back, they are persistent.” was all she would say on the paladins that had been with her in the tunnels.

Acrius would flash his sigil to be allowed entry into the keep. A maid would lead them to the war-room. In an Acrius-like manner he would bash into the war-room and wave nonchalantly. "Yo," He greeted, "Acrius reporting. Sewers safe from goblins. Someone may or may not have redecorated the sewers."

His eyes would fall onto the current Duke of Bergkoff, Oh right, manners and decorum. Acrius’ mind flashed to Siegfried and he stood up straighter, standing in attention. ”I also have come to deliver Cleric Drana from… Tarnosh?"

As the keep's doors were brashly opened, the Duke quickly looked upon the one who entered, he half assumed it was a messenger with desperate news at first, but realised with slight annoyance that it was the young Acrius followed by yet another stranger.
"So it appears. Well done indeed sir." he said nodding before he got up from his chair. "I do wish to know the full report of how you managed to repel them, especially given the news of explosives being used." he asked.
"Despite being an alternate means of entering the city, it is also a weak point for the city's defences. With the right placement of explosives, catastrophic damage could be done to the structure of the walls on the east and south specifically." he explained after.

Seeing the Duke was a slight relief, however Acrius’ disrespect was appalling. Reading the room, Drana was able to see that the duke and several servants seemed to be very used to the way Acrius had spoken. She let it go, but when Acrius failed to introduce her properly? She clenched a fist.
“Of house… Turash.” She would interject, letting the Duke speak first. She didn’t want Acrius getting into any trouble because of her arrival. Seeing that Acrius seemed to lack any form of formal education, Drana would inform all those present of the situation. She stood up straight and spoke fluently, though the blood on her face and dirt on her clothing was not fitting of one from her order. She detailed the collapse of the sapper’s tunnel as well as how they brought wolves strapped with their improvised explosives. She gave a detailed account of the encounter, starting from her appearance to Acrius. She would make sure to mention each spell she had casted as well as the waves of enemies they faced. She spoke with a refined tone, much in the same way she gave reports post mission in the black desert.

“After making sure to save as many men as I could, Acrius and I made our way to the war room.” She would stand at attention, her appearance more that of a mage given her long staff and lack of heavy armor or chain mail.

Balthazar let out a small sigh at Acrius’ behavior. It was clear that Siegfried’s training on etiquette was very much lacking-- not only did he introduce a noble lady with informality, he also said her name incorrectly. A grave transgression. The spymaster made a mental note to give the boy a few lessons on demeanor, when the time comes. For a moment, he considered discussing the battle, but for now, there was something more pressing: the noblewoman in front of him.

"You must forgive my associate, Lady Turash." The warlock bowed apologetically. "“He is of common birth, and has yet to learn how to properly address those of noble blood.”

The warlock took a few moments to size the woman up. Her robes were that of a priest and healer, colors not unlike that of the Sacred Order. At a glance, he could tell that the staff in her hands was an artifact of some magical power-- though he would not know to what extent unless he were to inspect it in closer detail.

"Forgive my manners; it has been a long day for everyone. Allow us to introduce ourselves." Balthazar starts. "This is His Grace, Duke Manuel Karstilli, of the Grand Duchy of Bergkoff." It was polite to introduce your host first in any noble function. "And I am Balthazar Trevarthen, Lord of Atheron, but currently in service to the Crown Prince." He said formally.

"It is a pleasure to meet you." The man bowed again, gauging her reaction.

Acrius didn’t realize how rude his behaviour was infront of the three nobles and even raised an eyebrow at Balthazar bowing his head down for him. ”Apologies, Cleric Drana, it seems that I have offended you." He said as he made his way to a wall and, while still standing in attention. Talks between nobles tended to be one of prodding and information gathering. As such the orange-eyed boy didn’t like this type of environment too much and he was certain he was on more than a few nobles shit-list. He leaned back against the wall and would stay there and listen to their conversation and answer questions directed at him.

Drana felt bad for having put Acrius on the spot the way she had, but she thought it would be better if he felt bad then find a harsh reprimanding in public. The formal introduction surprised her, however she did her best not to let it show. The war room was full of important names she did not know, but for them to be associated with the prince? She assumed that these men held a great amount of sway. She lowered her head slightly, though she did not bow.
“I regret that we must meet under the circumstance, though I must say I owe a great deal to this commoner you speak of. The tunnels would not be safe without his work.” She knew she spoke out of place, but she did not speak outside of her own right.

She straightened herself. “I am here to provide any assistance I can. It is my sworn duty to protect those who are unable to defend themselves and lend assistance to those who are in need.” She would swallow, pausing for a moment.

The Duke took in the report delivered by Drana, his tired and stressed expression did not change. "I see. We will have to investigate the damage when things quiet down." he said more to himself as he made his way from the table to go pour himself a small drink.
"Your help is most welcome Miss Drana." he said nodding before downing the drink in one go.
He held up a hand apologetically afterwards, "I must apologise in turn my lady, for not showing the proper decorum. Under any other circumstance, I would be more presentable, but it is as Sir Balthazar has said, things have been quite difficult." He then gestured if either Drana or Balthazar would like a drink.

Balthazar closed his eyes as he took in the noblewoman’s words, politely dismissing the Duke’s offer of a drink. Nobles taking up priestly duties was uncommon-- it was hard to dedicate yourself to your duties to the land as well as duties to your deity simultaneously. Still, Drana seemed like she had enough awareness on how to act the part of a lady and of a priestess.

He was a little surprised to see her so quick to defend Acrius, even after the insult he had unintentionally dealt her, but that in itself was commendable behavior of a noble. "So I see." The lord said. "Your assistance is greatly appreciated, Lady Turash. You and Acrius have played an integral role in this city’s defense, and for that, you have our thanks. " He continues.

"...but I’m afraid our work is not yet done." Balthazar appended. "Since you have offered your help, I will not turn away your aid, especially since you seem to be more than willing to assist." The spymaster turned to address both Drana and Acrius. "For now, you two are to await further orders-- we should be receiving battlefield reports momentarily, which will let me know where best to field you."

The man then turned to sit at his chair, a Record-Hunter moving the pieces on the map to reflect the situation: removing the goblin forces from the sewers and placing a wooden block to represent an impassable obstacle in the form of a collapsed tunnel. With a wave of his hand, Balthazar offered Acrius and his new companion seats at the table, where they could rest their weary feet-- if only for an instant.

”I am fine," Acrius replied promptly and simply leaned back into the wall. ”... A drink of water would be appreciated, however." The boy has always unconsciously felt ‘off’ and awkward in the presence of nobles. Though he was sulking a bit he would always stay true to himself; common sense, etiquette and decorum be damned, he’d always be the type to speak his mind. A maid would soon hand him a pitcher of water and a cup, he poured himself a cup of water as he waited.

Drana curtseyed lightly, “I would love to join you in drink, but I must wait until after our assailants have been repelled.” She looked to the duke, hoping she had not caused any offense. Afterwards, she would take Balthazar’s word to heart and find herself a seat. As much favor as she had with her god, she still needed to rest. She would make herself comfortable, losing herself as she thought deeply of what was to come. Soon enough she would have to bring her servants back or they would be quite cross with her. The last thing she needed was Gordon causing problems with the living. Looking up at Acrius’ request for water, she would wave the servant over for her own cup. Nodding to the servant in a silent thanks, she would drink afterward.

One could forgive the old man for sitting idly in a time like this. He seemed tired, and had been hard at work at his post. In truth, however, he never stopped working. There was simply far too much work to be done for him to remain comfortable. Thankfully, this was work he found fulfilling-- something he found purpose in. Even as they sat around the War Room, awaiting news, he was already at work on organizing the next set of troop movements.

Over the course of the next fifteen minutes, messengers would arrive to deliver updated reports from the battlefield. It seemed that the Prince, Zatana, and Naysein had engaged enemy Orcish officers in battle, and had succeeded. Now it was only a matter of time until they cleared the North Gate and secured the area.

Meanwhile, Rudolph and Merik had repelled a majority of the enemy forces near the West Gate, and had even managed to destroy the battering ram. For now, however, they were fighting a Goblin Warchief and his Honor Guard. The death of a Warchief would be a crippling blow to enemy morale-- something Balthazar hoped his companions could manage.

Lastly, it seemed fighting had intensified near the East Gate. Reinforcements from the Keep were used to great effect, and had managed to drive the enemies from the wall. Manald and Faira had been able to defeat a single troll, and were fighting on the fields below to eliminate the second one. Once that one falls, it shouldn’t be too difficult to clear the field.

“It appears things are falling into place.” Balthazar says, as his Record-Hunters update the map of the War Room. "“If all goes well, we will be through the worst of the day’s siege soon.” He then turns to Acrius and Drana. “I believe you’ve earned yourselves a moment of respite-- you can head to your lodgings for now, as your services are not desperately needed on any of these fronts…” The old man says. “...of course, if you are so eager to return to the battlefield… Perhaps you can lend your aid to the East Gate?” He suggests.

“I do worry about what tomorrow holds.” Drana spoke more to herself than to anyone in particular. If Balthazar was correct and this was the worst part of the siege then there would soon be cause to celebrate, but Drana was not used to quick victories. She felt as though there was something else at work with this attack, though she had no information to base it off of outside of her own battle. Goblins and orcs shouldn’t have been clever enough to come up with that plan in the sewers… Right? It could have been simple luck, or a clever goblin’s machinations...

“I will lend aid to the east gate. Is there anything else you can tell us about the enemies movements? Or is what you have already stated all there is to know?” She was well aware that she was a stranger here, and she did not want to deal with any more accusations than she would have to after the coming battles.
She was able to take Solace in the thought that these people trusted her to fight again.

Dragon Hunter. (18+) (Updates)

Abomination

Post apocalyptic high magic fantasy roleplay. That was a mouthful.
This setting follows a magical disaster known as 'the rift' where a great spell cast by the god of magic backfired, destroying the entire pantheon to leave the world shrouded in chaos. Without its gods to defend it, the world is assaulted by abominations from the far realms. This RP will focus around our surviving and possibly reviving a deity to attempt to restore order to an otherwise dying world. This RP would be very long and would certainly include more than one world. I compare it to the many realms of DnD.

The journey

Our characters are the first of a group to explore a newly discovered continent in a high fantasy setting. What we find is up for discussion, but the goal of the RP is to reach the center of the continent and the return home without succumbing to the hazards the land provides. The goal is to explore strange new people and cultures or evade the great monsters of the land! The possibilities are endless.

The spell plague

Human kind rules the multiverse. The gods themselves claim it as fact, their own influence growing due to their worship. One such human attempts to cast a spell well out of his scope... and succeeded. His spell made him the god of magic, the most powerful being in all the multiverse, however there was one problem. The previous god of magic was able to feel the effects of the spell moments before it was casted, and countered in the only way that they could. With their own spell, they ended their life. The wizard met his death as his spell resolved, but so too did all of magic. A world ruled by magic was suddenly left without it. enchantments that had held cities in the sky and spells that improved the quality of life ceased. Scrying failed, teleportation gateways closed. The worlds were cut off from one another, and so too were the gods. Only the supernatural gifts of nature and living artifacts spared from the crucible. The remolding of the world and the humbling of human hubris has allowed the once feeble monsters and creatures to reclaim the wilds. Where and when are we? At what point does our story begin? at the fall itself or many years after?
This setting will require a lot of discussion.

This setting is based around the spell plague from DnD.

Remember that these ideas can be combined and you are very much encouraged to bring your own ideas to the table! I love surprises.

Fractured, Real World Superhumans

@Flower

They are.

The Black Prophecy (Dead now; requiescat in pace!)

@CollectorOfMyst

Most of the stuff I will be winging around are big ole' monsters. The good news if you do decide to make a rogue being along that line is, at least from what I gather, our characters would align well. It could be that your character is more aware of the world/current time, and my character gives you creatures to add to your army in exchange for information and service. Mutual gains and all that jazz.

If none of that is your jam, you can always just use your original idea! My character is more or less an undead abomination in the shape of a dragon.

The Black Prophecy (Dead now; requiescat in pace!)

Sol’ Kureth

Identity: Sol’ Kureth, The Insatiable, The Dark Maw, The Faceless, Lord of Lies, Mage of Darkness, Demon's Wail

Type: Scion

Myth:
The notes of Sir Gallof the Old, Gathered from (A long list of sources) and accounts from (a short list of clergy scribes by first and last name) over the past twenty years.

Sol’ Kureth was once a proud and noble dragon lord that worked to oppose the dark lord. What caused his Betrayal is lost to history, but the creatures and horrors raised by his new found dark powers earned him many titles. The most credible rumor states that he was captured by the Dark lord’s forces and corrupted by the magics that they possessed. His actions are accounted for as being one capable of changing to a very repulsive form that resembles a creature well beyond death. His role in the great war was most easily explained as what would be considered a dark cleric. The magics he possessed were often gifted to his followers. The storys tell of their use bringing about ghastly transformations to those that practiced the magics he gifted, corrupting their very souls. The Dark Maw was earned as a title in a great battle sometime late within the great war. The corrupting magic that his followers would practice would corrupt them, but even worse was how the corruption was used. The great abomination would consume his own followers for powerful bouts of magic that could then be leaked to the surrounding lands. This power, much like the rumored corruption from the blood of the dark god, would infect the land and bring about famine and death. The corpses of men who died in these cursed lands would arise, perverted versions of the men and women they once were, to fight at the whim of this insatiable creature.

The goals of this being were never clear, as it seemed that he desired to spread deceit and doubt before acting strongly with force and magic. The only records that surfaced on this matter were a Clergy that held titles speaking of his loyalty to the dark god that he served. There are records of his personal and failed assaults on the clergy of men, and how he attempted to use their dreams to convince noble men to turn on their brothers for nothing more than dark power. As obvious as a trick this would seem, many fell to such temptations, but the lord of light was there to reverse the horrible incantations.

In the few accounts of his physical appearances within the realms of early men, this being took on the visage of a human in the shape of a very disturbing dragonskull donned humanoid. See reference for details, the description will be in chapter seven with several other theoretical forms The Faceless may have used.

Humanoid Visage

The Dark Maw

Corrupted wyvern known to speak on his behalf

Among the most vile of his corrupted magics were what he would do to those he captured. He would break their wills, their bodies and their very souls and bend them to serve the dark god as creatures that they once feared or hunted. Undead abominations that very few records can describe without the danger of madness leaking onto the very pages themselves. It is a dangerous task to record the deeds of one deemed dark, but without their record how could we ever hope to turn away a second coming?

This being was slain near what is now called Skull Island, and its field of bones in the north are where trolls roam. I fear that if an expedition to the field of bones does not occur the Trolls may discover the fallen magics, and should a shaman arise, the Faceless being’s power could be used.
I say without a doubt that it would be impossible for this being to be resurrected.

Narrative view…

The wizard had made his way to the darkened bone fields of skull island after many restless nights. He had found several ancient tomes on the power that rested in the bone fields, and with any luck he would leave here with that power. The legends spoke of a great being, a dark god who was destroyed long ago. The dark god’s followers, however, met ends far estranged and left behind powers just as the legends said the forgotten one had left curses upon the world. The Abomination’s power had been all but forgotten, the clergy had seen to it. When the darkness came to an end and the world found ‘peace’ as it was, many scions were hunted down and destroyed.

Or so the churches and knights would proclaim.

This wizard only hoped that the power this ancient being had could, through ritual, be harvested from the beast’s bones. A forbidden tome from a lost ruin near Gold port had sensible information in regards to lifting the holy magics that contained the power within the field of bones. He had purchased another from the darker markets that had led him to the location of this cursed ground, where even the bravest of trolls did not follow him. The book did not do the place justice. Hundreds of monstrous creatures long slain littered the grounds, the ominous skull of a once large dragon was the jewel the wizard had quested for. He began his search, setting up a camp with his spell craft in the silent field of bones.

The first day was like any other, a grey and cloud filled sky pushed cold air across skull island to steal away the warmth of the land and leave it bitter and cold. The book had several warnings within speaking of something called ‘the great enchantment’ and to be cautious when restoring it. The wizard had no intention of restoring any enchantments, his interest was the power within the ancient bones. He began his work searching the sunken plain of decay.

It was after a week of toiling in the great fields that he finally discovered the coveted jewel. The massive skull of an ancient black dragon lay on the ground. The skeleton of the once great dragon was intact, though badly damaged ribs and a large hole in the skull removed any doubts as to how the beast died. Hide still clung to the ribs and the skull in many places, though the smell of rot was absent thanks to the cold. Many other piles of bones lay about the clearing, but the wizard was set on his prize.

He would move his camp closer, setting up shelter in the ribs of a mammoth across the clearing. He would begin studying the bones of the dragon to make sure there were no foul curses or tricks to be placed upon the unwary. His toils began anew, and the process of finding the source of magic in this cursed place had begun in earnest. The Wizard would sleep peacefully knowing he was so close to completing his task.

How unwise it was for a mortal man to wander where even trolls fear to tread, to sleep without company among the ancient dead monsters of a bygone era. His meddling would wake one of the chief servants to the once great darkness that resided here. A great undead wyvern would rear from the mound of bones, forming to completion as its senses could detect a living creature within the bounds of its master's resting place. The creature would take flight, melding with its master’s whim as it looked down upon the landscape with eyeless holes in its head. Spotting the mage, it would observe from the cloudy sky.

The wizard was obsessed with the skeleton, taking notes and samples in an attempt to discover the whereabouts of this ancient power. He failed to notice the darkness above as it blended well with the clouds. He lamented as the days moved one, frustrated that he had come so far to be lost at the very end. The wyrm watched, and so too did its master.

The great abomination heard his pleas, and so used the last of his energy to answer. The small wyrm would land, taking the mage by surprise as a great voice in ancient dialect boomed across the clearing. Bones and dirt alike were scattered as the creature came to a halt. “Old twin legs, why do you dwell within... a field of bones where so many of your kind... have met their end?” The voice was hollow, raspy and close to a shrill.

The Wizard’s arcane eye could see that the power he sought was within the creature, and so he thought to rejoice. However, he was now faced with a new problem. The undead wyvern before him was stained in old blood, weapons protruded from its hide as though they had always been there. Rusted with the futility of long dead knights, or perhaps nothing more than melted snow. “I come seeking the power of the great Abomination!” The wizard needed to buy time to prepare his spells.

“You have traveled... far, and risked your… short… life to merely see the power…” The beast would lower its head, taunt skin popping off its skull to hang freely as the constant stress had finally worked it off. “You… will have a taste… come… touch my skull.” The raspy voice would become gradually slower.

The mage was hesitant, preparing a spell should the need arise to evade the creatures jaws he would hesitantly approach. The creature moved sluggishly, and so the mage would begin to lower his guard as he extended a ring covered hand to touch the bare bone of this wyvern’s skull.
Upon contact, the mage would be covered in dark energies. They would swirl around him, flowing into his eyes as he looked around in wonder and awe. “I can see them!... the incantations!” he would proclaim, only moments before the voice spoke clearly in his mind. “Destroy them, and the power will be yours to wield as my herald.” The mage shook, the voice clearly startling him as the tone was not slow or raspy. He looked around assuming he had been ambushed, but there was only he and the bones he touched. He quickly let go of the wyvern and began working, the voices in his mind instructing him in magics long lost. He would take notes, filling in tomes for his own curiosity. The voices in his head cared little, for there was all the time in the world.

Casting the final ritual, the weapon that bound the great dragon skeleton would be revealed, and the wyrm would destroy it with a blast of its fell breath. The Wizard would rejoice, amazed at the power he was witnessing first hand. The books had not been worthless, his trip had not been a waste, his years of studying the arcane would finally lead him to be the greatest Wizard that had ever been!...

The Black dragon’s skull would slowly lift from the ground, dirt and bones alike falling from it as green orbs lit within the eyes of the skull. Flesh would crawl out of the ground, swirling over the bones with a gnarled sound as it began to twist together. Muscle and hide alike would form mangled and corrupted as the magics binding this ancient scion faded, and his own dark powers returned to him.

Soon the mage's wonder would fade, replaced by doubt, before finally fear would set in. The being in front of him was not something he could dominate, it’s magics were older than the ones used to bind him… his spells would be worthless, his knowledge nothing… he would likely be this creature's first meal.

“You have freed me.” The voice would echo in the man’s mind. “You will herald my power into this world as it once was… your ignorance shall be removed, your pathetic life given to me in service… so that you will be worthy of my power.”

The great scion would take the Wizard's body as his own, dominating him completely so that he could begin to rebuild his own strength. The wizard would get what he wished for, but he would not be in control. The powerful being would scour the mortal’s mind, but it was too fragile. It shattered quickly, and soon there was little left aside from magical potential.
“A shame… It was too much… Why must humans always remain so… fragile?” The clouds above the field of bone would darken, the holy magics surrounding the island that had long been kept strong were weakened, and with the power flowing back into Sol’ Kureth, he would cast his ancient curses to rend the holy magics from the island.

His head would turn, his body aching is it begged him for new flesh. Fresh on the memories of this man were the trolls of this island. Their regenerative powers would be perfect to help his recovery. They would surely revel at the return of their dark god’s mage.

Updated version, keeping the old one posted.

New one;

Sol’ Kureth

Defiler, Dreadmaw, Flesh Demon, Betrayer,

Type: Scion

Myth:

Throc made his way deeper into the dreadfields of Skull island. He had found the ancient stones of power the elder had kept to himself. There were three stones, each filled with a dim purple glow that would occasionally fade to a dark green. The troll accompanying him hummed a tune, grunting as he tried his best to shake the feeling of dread that this place brought.

“Throc, why we go here? There no food, no U’mies to eat eifer!”
“Shut…” Throc looked to Ra. “Ra, we go to find the old one. Elder say land is cursed, but Throc have sleep-vision.”
Ra, the smaller of the two trolls, was apprehensive. He was a young blood of the tribe, and it was his duty to follow Throc as Throc had followed the Elder shaman. “Me think you drink too much grog-grog.” Ra said under his breath.
“You come with so that if I is wrong, you tell tribe what happen.” Throc was resigned to his fate, the fear that every troll had of this land was beside him. He walked with purpose and certainty through the pines to the infamous field of bones. Here, the trees would stop growing in a perfect line.

The field of bones was infamous for its guardian, a large bone creature that killed and ate anything that disturbed it. Trolls were no exception to this rule. Throc walked beyond the treeline without hesitation. Ra, however, was not so eager to throw away his life.
Stopping at the treeline, he would whisper loudly to Throc. “You serious! Do not go in there, the bone demon eat you!”
“Bone demon? Bone servant. Bone servant bring me to old one. Me use stones to wake old one, win old one’s favor.”
“You die! Bone demon no care about rocks!”
“Gemstones! Do not-” Ra interrupted, no longer whispering.
“Me no follow! Me watch from there!” He pointed at a nearby rise that formed into a cliff. Several sickly trees clung to the top of the rocky face. It was where the tribe leader and the tribe would watch the bone demon kill trolls who had overstepped their place.
“Ra, do not run unless you see me die.” Throc turned, walking away as Ra continued to try and convince him to stay.

Ra made his way to the vantagepoint as Throc walked deeper into the cursed lands. Here the ground was as hard as iron, bones littered about loosely would crack and pop beneath the large troll’s feet. Following his vision, Throc removed a shimmering stone from his pouch and placed it in the notch on his club. Making the stones visible was paramount if he was to be successful in reaching the heart of the bone fields. He would also need to follow the stone's light.

Several hours of walking unleashed the true nature of the bone fields. An unnatural wind cut through the land. Throc cursed as he felt the wind cut into his hide like daggers of purest cold. Ice began forming on the loose bits of his clothes and his nose. He pressed on, his obsession with the visions he had been plagued with proving true.

Ra watched as Throcc became smaller and smaller over the hours. He had made it far deeper than any troll had ever gone. The bone demon was nowhere to be seen. Ra cursed Throc’s stupidity, wondering how such a dumb troll could have been chosen to follow the elder.

The stone on Throc’s club glowed as it passed the first mammoth skeleton. Throc’s vision had told him to follow the stone to find the old one, and so he did. The dim green glow signaled the stop of the bone chilling wind that followed him. He traveled into the great bone mounds, where the bone demon was known to slumber. Here, Throc would find a great dragon skeleton.

Ra lost sight of Throc when he moved into the large field of bones. The great skeletons there were of creatures larger than trolls. The bones of creatures here were piled in massive mounds that seemed to be frozen together. Ra waited, sure that the sound of Throc’s death scream would happen at any moment.

The great dragon’s skeleton was separate from the many that surrounded it. It was free of ice and scratches, something many of the bones here were riddled with. A single rib was missing from it’s right flank. Pausing for a moment in awe as the size of this great skeleton, Throc shook his head. He had to follow his vision, if he did not he would not get what he desired.

Throc walked to the gap in the skeleton’s ribs and removed a glowing stone from his pouch. He placed it on the ground, uttering a word of power that he knew nothing about. The stone glowed brightly with a green sheen as it had in Throc’s vision. The troll moved to the great skull of the dragon and placed his club on the ground near the jaw. Throc climbed the skull, pulling the last stone from his side pouch to place it atop the snout. He uttered another word of power, and the stone glowed the same as the other.

Throc used the lower jaw as a foothold to climb down. The troll picked up his club, dislodging the final stone as he moved to face the dragon’s skull from the front. Speaking another word of power, the last stone ignited in a green glow. Throc nodded to himself, lifting the stone to his mouth. He ate the stone, looking to the skeleton of the dragon.

“You… You have returned my power… You will share in… its bounty.” A deep and ancient voice boomed in his head. It was exactly as he had foreseen, the old one was not dead. Throc fell to his knees, bowing to the bones before him. The stones placed among the bones began to emit black tendrils. The ground around the skeleton cracked open. Putrid flesh crept from these small crevices as though the ground itself was some festered wound. The black tendrils formed by the stones began to cling to the bones of the great skeleton, causing this flesh to begin crawling over the long dead beast. The cracks crossed the clearing, traveling from bone mound to bone mound. The ice creaked and moaned as the bones turned into dark tendrils that flowed to the skeleton of the dragon. Flesh twisted and crawled over the skeleton. Muscles formed as flesh flowed between the gaps of the bones. Scales and plates formed as the dark tendrils receded beneath the flesh of the dragon. Great wings lifted to the sky as it stood for the first time in centuries.

Ra watched in awe as the bones vanished to show a dragon had appeared. He would have ran, but he could see that Throc was still alive! The bones that had hidden him were gone. Ra could not believe his own eyes! “Throc was not stupid?” He said to himself.

“Taste what once was yours, Throc.” The mighty dragon lifted his talons, black tendrils flowing from the tips of his claws poured into Throc’s eyes as the troll looked up. Throc cried out in pain, struggling to keep himself from falling over. He saw the memories of the great beast… he saw himself standing in front of an army of Trolls running down fields of men. He saw the rituals his elders had once practiced.

Bones jutted from Throc’s hide as the energies within him transformed his body and mind. He grew, his body strengthened and his own knowledge of fell magic had been re-ignited. The knowledge the elders had lost over the ages was his to command. “You will serve me.” The great voice boomed. “You will lead my creations to claim the land and steal its power.” Sol’ Kureth looked into throc’s mind. The trolls had fallen, the war had been lost. Chernobog was defeated? How could such a thing be?

The lands he had claimed were no longer his own, and their power had faded. They had been reclaimed by the light. Anger filled Sol’ Kureth, his servants had long crumbled and only two remained; this new found troll and the corrupted wyvern. He looked around the wastes, seeing bone and ice were flesh and creatures once gathered. The ground sealed, green light ceasing as his form returned. “I need flesh to craft.” The scion turned his head to the distant cliff, spotting the young troll Ra.

The Black Prophecy (Dead now; requiescat in pace!)

I will be sliding in sometime this Sunday!

Fractured, Real World Superhumans

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Ronald Granger

Location: Orlando, Florida USA.
^{Interacting With: American news outlets. Granger rally in Orlando, Florida.}

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Broadcasted on Fox news over the course of several days;

“Fellow Americans, we cannot sit idly by and let these monsters tear apart our country! Four months ago a great travesty befell the world, and our nation knew grief. Our allies, God bless them, suffered the same fate. However, 40 days after the great conflagration, monsters came back to mock our family members! They have powers that they use against the common people, good people… innocents who do not deserve the pain that was already piled onto their overflowing plates!” The man on the TV would look at the camera, his slicked back hair and clean shaven face close to his own picture that spanned the banner behind him. The big words ‘Vote for civility! Vote Granger.’
“These people are monsters, and some of them know it! These people who pretend to be the men and women that vanished over a few months ago have their face and their memory, but they hold a great evil in their heart! You have seen the news, the papers and twitter; Schools destroyed by the monsters, our young Americans- the next generation… Slain like cattle! It's outrageous!” The crowd would cheer, support growing for the Rich white conservative who had a solution for the problem plaguing the world.
“I will not stand for this, if I was your president you would be protected! These monsters would be found and labeled for what they are, and if they are deemed too much of a danger four our schools, for the American way of life, then by the grace of God in heaven, they will be destroyed!” Sweat would form on his head as he preached fire as well as many of the pastors in the deep south. Granger was a man from the construction industry, The magnolia state of Mississippi his home. This platform was perfect to raise a nobody like him to power, and with his hometown story and ‘good ethics’ from his own company, Granger construction, he was seen as a small business owner and a personable man. Many scared Americans were on the dividing line with the new issue of these super people. Most of the common citizens feared them, and rightly so. The media has slammed them with bad press since the day they returned. Many men guarded Granger, and a man by the name of Trevor Hitch had been shot trying to kill him with a power of his own. The attempt on his life was a vaulting point for his campaign, and he used it as a prime example.
“Several days ago, I was attacked by Trevor… a man made into a monster by the great conflagration, and I defended myself!” The media had proclaimed Granger quite the hero, as Granger had not only foiled the attack, but personally put a bullet into the man’s heart. This was all caught on camera, and was one of his many stories that kept the common people flooding to support him.