Current
So I guess I should've watched Firefly ages ago, huh?
4
likes
7 yrs ago
Bleed over my grave, and plunge in the stake. Don't give me a break, when you're on the take.
7 yrs ago
Expanding Horizons Players! Join up with The Reapers of Castletain if you're looking for a group to join!
8 yrs ago
Swearing in other languages besides the mother tongue is ceaselessly amusing.
8 yrs ago
The Second Labour awaits, and I am ready to pursue it. FEAR NOT FELLOW GUILDMEMBERS, I SHALL BRING YOU GLORY ON THAT DAY!
Bio
I like language.
Speak to me.
And I'll tell you more.
Pierdolony = Fucking
Chuj = Dick
Pizda = C*nt
Gówno = Shit
Dupa = Ass
Pieprzyć mnie = Fuck me
Skurwielu = Motherfucker
Grozny = Dangerous
Głupi = Stupid
Dobra, chodźmy. = Okay, let's go.
Dziewczęta luźno mówione = Loose-tongued whores
"Where'd you get all this?"
"Pierdolony Google Translate!"
Allows the re-ignition of a Soul Lantern at the expense of another, or alternatively, lights a path from the severed soul to their lantern, aiding them in their resurrection.
Requirements: 1 pouch / 1/2 pouch, applied to the corpse in question as well as the living sacrifice, taking 1 hour to prepare. Requires the surface area of the target corpse to be at least 20% intact.
A ritual to repair broken equipment, items, and other gear. Can also create entirely new gear, as per a schematic or blueprint. Requires "feeding" of ability magic energy to function.
Requirements: 1/2 pouch, applied to level, static surface, takes 30 minutes to prepare. Requires 4 square metres.
Area of effect raises ten-feet tall walls of blue flame in a design designated by the ritualmaster. Only effective barrier is the flames themselves, and they do not require the traditional necessities for flame, fuel, oxygen etc. Can be used underwater, in high-oxygen environments. The flames cannot start new fires, though they will burn like regular flames if they come into contact with something directly.
Requirements: 1/4 pouch, applied to any surface (must match the surface of the target area), takes 10 to 20 minutes to prepare. Requires half of a square metre.
A ritual which summons a being that reaps the target designated by the ritual. A summoning spell, woe be to those who err when attempting the cast this ritual. The smallest of mistakes can spell utter disaster.
Requirements: 1/100 to 1 pouch, applied to any surface, takes 15 minutes to prepare. Requires 1 square metre.
A ritual that employs and activates all the rest of Broggan's rituals simultaneously. Devilishly difficult to prepare, requiring days to properly organize, it is nevertheless, a potential game-changer when used properly.
Requirements: 6 pouches, applied to ritualmaster, takes at least 72 hours to prepare assuming presence of all necessary components. Requires 90% of the ritualmaster's body.
Does anyone have any idea how to add which part you are on the map? I need help
Use a Paint program, like MS paint if you're on Windows, or an online alternative if you're a Mac fag (like me). Then make some unobtrusive (as in we can still see the geographical features underneath, so either transparent or thin lines) markings to designate your land claim. Then you save the picture out of the program you used to edit it, and repost it here in OOC under "land grab" or something to that effect.
@Amethyst Me pls. Do your scribbling on the latest map so we have all the doodles in the one place. Just open it up in MS paint and give us a location / shape, go nuts
Just the islands ~Hawaii size for now and you're good.
Death's Frontman AKA The One-Man Clean-Up Crew Level 1 God of Death (The Mortal Coil)
The Beginnings of Godhood
To Mater Lei, Césure nodded in thanks, offering a warm smile of the kind he found only proper to give to one appreciative of fine clothing. His mind, godly as it now had grown, began to acclimate him to the notion of simply knowing things. It wasn't omniscience per se, but it was near enough as to be almost indistinguishable. Practically speaking, he understood and grew passingly familiar with the kinds of godly brethren and sistren he would be sharing this world with. Gods of life, and kindness, and light, spurring forth civilization. Gods of rot, and madness, and corruption, tearing things down into more baser flavours of existence. And yet more gods, those of Kap Gam and Mater Lei's ilk, who seemed to favour neither side whilst holding their own goals close to their chests.
Whatever the case may have been, many of the gods were now going about their own works, and it would be some time before they were to congregate as one group again, if ever. Césure had an inborn sense now, of what he was to do, and what would need to be done, in his capacity as the God of Death. Pelegath might lay claim to the Domain of Death, by way of his rotting manners, but when Césure exited the fortress and looked upon the swamp that he had wrought, Césure saw new life, not death. More of the Domain of Nature, by Virgule's own guess. And then there was that Larwen monstrosity, who saw fit to twist and pervert for the sheer sake of it. Césure could have described it in many, many different ways, but as a true God of Death? Never. And so through both a kind of innate memory, and also a desire that seemed to echo the man he had once been, Césure set out on foot to explore the world before him. After all, the Master of Mortality must know the realms of mortals.
Five minutes of walking passed, before Cés got bored. With the ease of thought, he floated up into the sky and began to appraise the land with a bird's perspective. He could leave the land-stalking off until there was more of note to see than just barren plains and the occasional mountain range. He rushed over the mountains to the west of The Beach of The Gods and soon found himself looking down on a massive inland sea. A vast peninsula jutted into the body of water, and Césure could also see a large island which while imposing, was too close to the coast by far. A kind of smile, that blended the grim coldness of godhood with Cassidy's old good-natured fun, struck Césure's face. His first great work was upon him.
Césure alighted over the long peninsula, hovering over the point where the coast turned into the sea and summoned his godly might. Perhaps an aspect of waters would have been a better choice for this task but Césure cared not. His realm would be forged by his hand and his alone, for Death was his Domain and his alone. Vast rumbling shook the earth, and dark tendrils of energy rippled through the hundreds upon hundreds of kilometres that acted as the connection between what was to become his Seat of Power, and the common land before surrounding it. With a final mighty cry, Césure hewed the earth from where it had stood, and churning waters rushed in to fill the gap, creating an island where once there had been none.
Césure looked upon his newly forged island, Surm, from where it stood balefully in the still-churning waters of the Sea of Suremus, and was pleased. The work that came next would not be so difficult, but just as enjoyable.
The island itself was unmolded and tame, which would not do, for the kingdom of a God of Death, and so Césure drew forth upon his might once more, and once more the very earth itself trembled with fear at his Might. The island rose up, propelled forth from the ground until it settled to a standstill hundreds of metres higher than it previously had lain, and in addition to that, at the centre of the isle, wicked spires had burst up from the ground, forming a kind of thicket of spikes upon which a platform of earthen rock had been speared. It was beautiful, and it was where he would build his palace of death. But in order to do so, he would need servants, beings who could be granted access to his holy grounds, but also who would be able to defend him and flourish in spreading the death that he would require them to be disciples of, and so they could not be allowed to be numerous, they would have to concentrate all of their power on being true servants of Death, rather than dependants of Life.
Césure thought long and hard about who they must be, his sons and daughters, before drawing deep within himself, within his Might, and pressing a hand to the crystalline black rock spikes that jutted forth from the ground. The powers of Death, manifest in black lightning, cut through some of the crystal, a material Césure dubbed Surmite, and sculpted two bodies, the lightning cutting through crystal with a terrible shearing sound. These two sculpted figures gradually lightened in colour, softening from the cold surface of crystal into beings of flesh and blood, the black lightning rippling through them and beating within them, like a kind of rhythmic pulsing.
"My children," Césure pronounced darkly, his voice echoing with the terrible majesty of his godhood. "I dub thee Suremuse Koguja, the Gatherers of Mortality." A broad smile split his face and he cast his arms wide to pull his son and daughter into his embrace. They felt cold, like the Surmite they had been wrought from, but within them he felt his own pulsating spark of death that was life, and it felt good to know that he had servants to aid him in his most burdensome task. "More personally, you my son, shall be called Andja. And you my daughter, shall be called Saaja." Both of his children accepted his embrace, and their new names, nodding slowly as if they only vaguely understood. He would have to spend time teaching them all the things they would need to know, in order to prepare them for what he had planned. However there was one last thing that he must attend to, one last Mighty deed that required doing.
His holy citadel would have to be properly prepared before it was created, which required time, however that which it would protect, enshrine, and be strengthened by could not wait a moment longer. Under the watchful and glowing black eyes of his newborn children, Césure knelt down onto the ground and conjured up his Might for one last great task. He reached down far below the earth, into the planet's core, and plucked from it something most potent indeed. This newly pilfered object sped up through the earth at godly speed and in mere minutes, the faintest of tremblings could be felt before a powerful quake rocked the Sea of Suremus as the frothing waters spat out a massive chunk of metal which flew up in an arc towards Surm's plateau. Césure leapt out into the air and seized the massive metal, lifting it back over to the plateau where he set it down and gently rubbed his hands over its shining surface. His cufflinks on his suit had already torn the delicate fabric, a detail which could not be ruined as Césure observed that the cufflinks had been flattened and stuck to the metal, by a force of magnetism that was difficult for mortal minds to wrap their heads around. Andja himself was gently poking at the cufflink, which resembled a flat piece of gold leaf, and Césure touched his hand gently and bade him be calm.
"Come my children, I shall teach you language, and knowledge, and many other things, and tomorrow, we will begin our great constructions. Death's shadow shall be cast long, and far, but even Death must have its small beginnings."
Cés appreciates Mater Lei's appreciation, but doesn't think too much of the other gods, especially as his own godly senses and memories are kicking in. His mind is entirely focused on the tasks at hand as the burden of his undone duty presses ever harder upon him. So, he goes out and finds the inland sea on this main continent, and decides to a) do a little terraforming, b) create a new element/substance to serve his mysterious purposes, c) create a new people to be his servants and representatives, and finally d) to call up a huge (relatively) chunk of magnetically polar metal from the planet's core, again for mysterious purposes. Holy shitballs, I told you he was going to do some stuff!
Might: 0 -1 for creation of the Isle of Surm by way of flooding/erosion of the connecting portion of a peninsula. -1 for creation of first vein of Surmite, a godly substance who properties will be detailed here. The vein also, coincidentally, is formed beneath the island of Surm and is what caused the island to be raised up the hundreds and hundreds of metres that it was. It's what those black spikes are made of. -1 for creation of Suremuse Koguja, an extraordinary race of beings made to serve Césure, who will be described here. Specifically, Césure created Andja and Saaja. -1 for creation of giant ball of magnetized metal to be used in an undisclosed manner in the creation of Césure's Holy Site next turn.
Césure's current lvl: 2 Acts of Creation: 4 Current progression: 2/4 towards lvl. 3
@Antarctic Termite How can a god use all four Might if they only get two Acts of Creation?
Nevermind I figured it out. Using all four Might means that Césure will be halfway to levelling up for his next turn. Because of how levelling up works. I get it now.
Having looked at the pool of gods, Césure shrugs and says "None of these gods are truly gods of death." HE then proceeds to do everything he can to become the embodiment of death.
...
Look forward to his next post folks. It's going to get metal.
Death's Frontman AKA The One-Man Clean-Up Crew Level 1 God of Death (The Mortal Coil)
A Long Time Ago (Or Later?) In A Universe Far Far Away...
Cassidy Ryhardt was drinking a bad drink in a worse bar, on an absolutely garbage frontier planet, when he felt a strong hand on his shoulder. The slight man cracked a smile and turned around to look at who'd grabbed him. The smile melted almost as fast as the fist speeding towards his face, and even so he felt the knuckles crunch against his teeth, splitting his lip as the punch's force laid him out over the bar. Moaning and gasping through the taste of blood, and struggling to regains his feet, but that same strong hand attached to his ex-wife's brother tugged him off out through the establishment.
Cassidy caught one last sight of that bastard of a barkeep smirking to himself as he scrubbed out Cassidy's blood from the countertop. He hadn't even gotten to finish his drink either. Lem, or Lom, whatever his idiot ex-brother-in-law's name was, tossed him to the sidewalk, where Cassidy's head thunked against the slick metal of a hoverbike. The bike's owner was leaned against the wall of the bar, and he exchanged nods, and what looked to be a sizeable amount of money from Lum's expression before the lout ran off, and Cassidy was left alone with the mystery man.
"So what'll it be? I charge extra on the hour for off-worlders with exotic and contagious disea-" The second punch didn't just split his lip. It knocked the man out cold.
When Cassidy next awoke, it was with a fat lip, a black eye and a pounding headache. He was strapped to a table and couldn't feel his extremities. The man he'd been captured by was nowhere to be seen, and Cassidy found that he couldn't remember what his captor looked like. All of a sudden, there was a voice in his head that was not his own.
You have been chosen Cassidy Ryhardt, for a most... heavy honour. "Who the kashk are you?" It will take too long to explain. I have so little time. The decision is made, and you have duties to attend to elsewhere. "Wha- No! Tell me why you're doing this! Why am I here? What's going o-" Know death.
Cassidy screamed, even as his ability to expand his chest to breathe left him. He felt his mind fill with his own voiceless agony. He was burned, drowned, cut, bludgeoned, starved,parched,rippedtornbledcrushedthrownmeltedflayedcrackedbentstretchedhuuuuuuuurrrrrrrrrrrtttttt...
Awareness seeped into the cracks in the vessel's mind, and control was slowly being asserted. The vessel did not want to give in, even though outwardly it had long since surrendered all bodily functions.
Do not resist! Like... Hell... I won't!
An internal battle was waged for a long time. The ancient god of death had been moments away from death himself when he had begun the passing ritual, foolishly having postponed it until the last moment, and so even a frail human's dying awareness was enough to challenge the supposedly insurmountable will of a god. It seemed to have been all but decided in favour of the god's mind, when on top of all that had happened to the chosen vessel that day, his body was sucked into a portal which opened beneath his slack body. This dying god of death had just finished transposing his divinity unto the vessel, and was midway through transferring his soul into the mostly hollow shell that had been Cassidy Ryhardt, when the portal closed and severed the connection between vessel and god.
In a universe far away, a dying god was screaming in impotent rage as his essence bled to nothing, all of his divine spark freely given (and subsequently stolen) by a lowly human who had been five quarters dead at the time. And on the shores of Galbar? The results of the aborted ritual remained to be seen...
Arrival
Through the open portal, flopped a limp body. The meaty and small frame was steaming gently, still undergoing the aftereffects of subsuming a godly soul's essence. Might, rich and pure, coursed through the veins, golden ichor pushing the old dead blood from the god's body. Luckily for Césure Virgule, his undignified arrival had landed him facedown, because he began vomiting and excreting blood violently. He also happened to be naked. Consciousness of this fact blessedly, was withheld as deep inside his mind, the consequences of godly ascendance were being wrought on his mind. Pathways were being expanded, in the physical, mental, and spiritual planes. A kind of sickly black haze fell over his body as the more grotesque adjustments began to increase in their speed.
Anybody who might happen to be watching as the god awoke finally, and blessedly clothed in a tasteful navy suit, would see that he began examining the surroundings and taking in his new awareness and memories. He was neither the man called Cassidy nor Virgil of Ullure any longer. The god had, for all intents and purposes, been born of a most gruesome and terrifying death. No more fitting a beginning for...
"Césure Virgule," he murmured, rolling the words through his mouth slowly. It had a ring to it, that was for certain. The next task immediately made itself known to Césure when he cast his awareness more widely, beyond the fortress he found himself in, and realized the world had just experienced its first tsunami. For the first time on Galbar, as far as Césure knew, the fledgling life had experienced cessation. Heedless of his fellow gods, Césure got to his feet, and dusted off his lovely suit.
Césure drew upon his godly might, and then paused. He needed to find a way outside. It appeared as though he would have to deal with the other divinities after all. Looking towards those that he could see in the fortress, he grinned winningly.
"Any of you know where the door is? I have to go and harvest those souls out there. Don't want them going off."
Césure Virgule's origin essentially involved a deranged (and near-dead) god trying to merge his soul with an unassuming human by the name of Cassidy Ryhardt. The resultant being that was created and ended up landing on Galbar then reconstituted into a newborn god, (because there is no way a basically dead god could have stowed that much power in any vessel, let alone a human) and noticed that his job wasn't being carried out properly, despite the abundance of life, and newly dead. He has yet to spend any power however, since he wants to be outside for that.
Seeing as stuff's gonna start dying what with this tsunami and all, and the only death god we have makes swamps, it seems like Césure's arrival is long overdue. Dude needs a backstory though. We'll be with you after these messages.
Death (The Mortal Coil) Césure's domain of Death provides for quite a range of unsightly, ghastly, and tummy-upsetting portfolios. After all, nobody wants to hear that the fun and wonderful party that they've been raving at for their entire lives is coming to a timely end. But that is the sad (or happy, or hilarious, or arousing) truth of existence. Death is, at its core, the fundamental ending of Life. It is a return to form for that which has so miraculously come into its own, so that a continuous cycle of balance and energy and yada yada yada blah blah you've heard all this claptrap before. Point is, Césure's portfolio is that of the fellow who picks up the mortal coils as they slough off of their careworn previous owners. He then takes this essence and gives the best portion of it over to the gods of Life, while keeping a portion for those of Death, and a smaller embezzlement fee for his own good deeds.
Césure can prolong or foreshorten any living being's death, which while not causing or preventing it, is his primary sensation of amusement from existence. His abilities also mean that he has offered up many mortals with some of his more accessible and mundane techniques of toying with the bounds of death, if his whims deemed them worthy. In rare cases, when Virgule wishes to feel very involved, he can prevent the mortal coil from detaching and cause unDeath. He doesn't tend to do this particularly often, though it isn't difficult, because his zombies are inevitably destined to have their mortal coils torn asunder by the strain which makes them non-cashable tender. Essentially, Césure's undead army of servants would be require him to forego pay on behalf of himself and the other Death gods, would jeopardize the balance and all that boogity woogity, and is just too much of a pain in his ass to warrant doing. He does however grant one fanatical priest unDeath per year, in exchange for favours on Césure's behalf. It's pretty hilarious because most of those favours involve elaborate practical jokes on the servants and attachés of other gods.
Aʟɪɢɴᴍᴇɴᴛ
Neutral Evil
Pᴇʀsᴏnaʟɪᴛʏ
Imagine if one day, you were called up out of whatever backwater non-existent pub you had been lurking in for a few eons, and were given the odious task of dealing with dead, dying, and soon-to-be-dying people, for eternity. Yeah, you'd probably end up the same way as Cés(/keɪs/). Namely, the man is constantly looking for new ways to poke fun at existence itself, and any means he can find of making his job more amusing. He's been at this endlessly, and he tends to go through phases. He'll have to deal with a particularly long war with plenty of prisoners on hand, being tortured, and the amazement on the torturers faces at the seeming endurance of the tormented will be evidence of Cés' hand in things. He's also tried making deaths quick and painless for some, though these are generally people whose story he had been following in the first place and even gave a shit about to begin with.
To describe Cés as arbitrary is to call fire warm, or water damp. The god's only seeming motivator is what will provide the next laugh, chuckle, or bemused observation as he toys with the very mechanics of death itself. He is especially fond of the cults that rise up to worship him, as they seem to do unexpected and surprising things with consistency. As far as inter-god relations are concerned, Cés couldn't care less about them, and tends to view them more than anything with veiled jealousy and bitterness. His duties require his every moment in some capacity, whereas they have so much more freedom. Thus he has a decidedly vindictive streak, especially against the gods of Life, which he mostly can keep hidden when he is forced to deal with them. That being said, Cés' tricks, tasks, and mortal servants are particularly famous for garnering the anger of the gods, usually several at once.
Gᴏᴀʟs
Césure's goals can be summarized as being the amassing of a personal trove of mortal coils to some greater purpose. Every single stolen and scrimped soul is preciously and protectively hoarded somewhere hidden from the eyes of the gods. Whether his actual end is to increase his own power, dominion over the physical world, or gods forbid, some off-brand of undead Disney World, it is unclear that even he himself knows. Much more concrete is Césure's hatred of his obligations and duties, and thus one of his wider goals through whatever means necessary is to break free of his unwilling committal to collect the mortal coils. More than anything, deep within his pale gray consciousness, Césure Virgule wants to be left alone. A sort of soft nihilism sulks behind his every action, and is the prime mover for his actions independent of his godly duties.
Aᴘᴘᴇᴀʀᴀɴᴄᴇ
On the godly plane, Césure bears an uncanny resemblance to Nathan Fillion, to scale as a matter of fact. It is from this form that he derives his other more general manifestations on his frequent incursions to the mortal plane. A tall handsome man in somber suits, well-groomed but rakish even in middle-age. While he prefers this form, and keeps to it as much as he can, the nature of collecting mortal coils means that Césure makes it a habit of taking on the form of wisp of watery mist that can be mistaken as any number of bodily fluids, as well as his godly beast of choice (a brown rat.) Needless to say, Césure has never been one for big dramatic entrances or exits, and while not trying to be undetectable, prefers to be overlooked when possible.
I like language.
Speak to me.
And I'll tell you more.
[hider=Polish Cuss and Non-Cuss Key:]
[i]Pierdolony = Fucking
Chuj = Dick
Pizda = C*nt
Gówno = Shit
Dupa = Ass
Pieprzyć mnie = Fuck me
Skurwielu = Motherfucker
Grozny = Dangerous
Głupi = Stupid
Dobra, chodźmy. = Okay, let's go.
Dziewczęta luźno mówione = Loose-tongued whores[/i]
"Where'd you get all this?"
"Pierdolony Google Translate!"
[/hider]
[hider=Azalore RP Extra Rituals][hider=Midgard Spark -] Allows the re-ignition of a Soul Lantern at the expense of another, or alternatively, lights a path from the severed soul to their lantern, aiding them in their resurrection.
Requirements: 1 pouch / 1/2 pouch, applied to the corpse in question as well as the living sacrifice, taking 1 hour to prepare. Requires the surface area of the target corpse to be at least 20% intact.[/hider]
[hider=Forge of Svartalfheim -] A ritual to repair broken equipment, items, and other gear. Can also create entirely new gear, as per a schematic or blueprint. Requires "feeding" of ability magic energy to function.
Requirements: 1/2 pouch, applied to level, static surface, takes 30 minutes to prepare. Requires 4 square metres.[/hider]
[hider=Flames of Muspelheim -] Area of effect raises ten-feet tall walls of blue flame in a design designated by the ritualmaster. Only effective barrier is the flames themselves, and they do not require the traditional necessities for flame, fuel, oxygen etc. Can be used underwater, in high-oxygen environments. The flames cannot start new fires, though they will burn like regular flames if they come into contact with something directly.
Requirements: 1/4 pouch, applied to any surface (must match the surface of the target area), takes 10 to 20 minutes to prepare. Requires half of a square metre.[/hider]
[hider=Call of Helheim -] A ritual which summons a being that reaps the target designated by the ritual. A summoning spell, woe be to those who err when attempting the cast this ritual. The smallest of mistakes can spell utter disaster.
Requirements: 1/100 to 1 pouch, applied to any surface, takes 15 minutes to prepare. Requires 1 square metre.[/hider]
[hider=Ragnarok -] A ritual that employs and activates all the rest of Broggan's rituals simultaneously. Devilishly difficult to prepare, requiring days to properly organize, it is nevertheless, a potential game-changer when used properly.
Requirements: 6 pouches, applied to ritualmaster, takes at least 72 hours to prepare assuming presence of all necessary components. Requires 90% of the ritualmaster's body.[/hider]
[/hider]
<div style="white-space:pre-wrap;">I like language.<br><br>Speak to me.<br><br>And I'll tell you more.<br><br><div class="hider-panel"><div class="hider-heading"><button type="button" class="btn btn-default btn-xs hider-button" data-name="Polish Cuss and Non-Cuss Key:">Polish Cuss and Non-Cuss Key: [+]</button></div><div class="hider-body" style="display: none"><span class="bb-i">Pierdolony = Fucking<br><br>Chuj = Dick<br><br>Pizda = C*nt <br><br>Gówno = Shit<br><br>Dupa = Ass<br><br>Pieprzyć mnie = Fuck me<br><br>Skurwielu = Motherfucker<br><br>Grozny = Dangerous<br><br>Głupi = Stupid<br><br>Dobra, chodźmy. = Okay, let's go.<br><br>Dziewczęta luźno mówione = Loose-tongued whores</span><br><br>"Where'd you get all this?"<br><br>"Pierdolony Google Translate!"</div></div><br><br><div class="hider-panel"><div class="hider-heading"><button type="button" class="btn btn-default btn-xs hider-button" data-name="Azalore RP Extra Rituals">Azalore RP Extra Rituals [+]</button></div><div class="hider-body" style="display: none"><div class="hider-panel"><div class="hider-heading"><button type="button" class="btn btn-default btn-xs hider-button" data-name="Midgard Spark -">Midgard Spark - [+]</button></div><div class="hider-body" style="display: none">Allows the re-ignition of a Soul Lantern at the expense of another, or alternatively, lights a path from the severed soul to their lantern, aiding them in their resurrection.<br><br>Requirements: 1 pouch / 1/2 pouch, applied to the corpse in question as well as the living sacrifice, taking 1 hour to prepare. Requires the surface area of the target corpse to be at least 20% intact.</div></div><br><br><div class="hider-panel"><div class="hider-heading"><button type="button" class="btn btn-default btn-xs hider-button" data-name="Forge of Svartalfheim -">Forge of Svartalfheim - [+]</button></div><div class="hider-body" style="display: none">A ritual to repair broken equipment, items, and other gear. Can also create entirely new gear, as per a schematic or blueprint. Requires "feeding" of ability magic energy to function.<br><br>Requirements: 1/2 pouch, applied to level, static surface, takes 30 minutes to prepare. Requires 4 square metres.</div></div><br><br><div class="hider-panel"><div class="hider-heading"><button type="button" class="btn btn-default btn-xs hider-button" data-name="Flames of Muspelheim -">Flames of Muspelheim - [+]</button></div><div class="hider-body" style="display: none">Area of effect raises ten-feet tall walls of blue flame in a design designated by the ritualmaster. Only effective barrier is the flames themselves, and they do not require the traditional necessities for flame, fuel, oxygen etc. Can be used underwater, in high-oxygen environments. The flames cannot start new fires, though they will burn like regular flames if they come into contact with something directly.<br><br>Requirements: 1/4 pouch, applied to any surface (must match the surface of the target area), takes 10 to 20 minutes to prepare. Requires half of a square metre.</div></div><br><br><div class="hider-panel"><div class="hider-heading"><button type="button" class="btn btn-default btn-xs hider-button" data-name="Call of Helheim -">Call of Helheim - [+]</button></div><div class="hider-body" style="display: none">A ritual which summons a being that reaps the target designated by the ritual. A summoning spell, woe be to those who err when attempting the cast this ritual. The smallest of mistakes can spell utter disaster.<br><br>Requirements: 1/100 to 1 pouch, applied to any surface, takes 15 minutes to prepare. Requires 1 square metre.</div></div><br><br><div class="hider-panel"><div class="hider-heading"><button type="button" class="btn btn-default btn-xs hider-button" data-name="Ragnarok -">Ragnarok - [+]</button></div><div class="hider-body" style="display: none">A ritual that employs and activates all the rest of Broggan's rituals simultaneously. Devilishly difficult to prepare, requiring days to properly organize, it is nevertheless, a potential game-changer when used properly.<br><br>Requirements: 6 pouches, applied to ritualmaster, takes at least 72 hours to prepare assuming presence of all necessary components. Requires 90% of the ritualmaster's body.</div></div></div></div></div>
Member
Noctis
