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.
Jordan "The Man" Manilow would like to salute you all, and hopes to meet you in the future, maybe in some other land or time, but he will not lay down and die here. Cheers friends, and here's to new beginnings.
(And I may be seeing some of you over in Wave Breakers too, so there's that.)
A big thanks to Zel for trusting me as his co-GM. I can only hope that I was helpful, and made running the RP while we did a bit smoother, and contributed some good ideas as well.
Death's Frontman AKA The One-Man Clean-Up Crew Level 2 God of Death (The Mortal Coil)
The Birth of Lord Naisegai and the Forging of Pürihallgraal
Things were progressing quickly on the Island of Surm, though not necessarily quickly enough for Césure Virgule's tastes. His children were learning quickly enough, certainly much faster than could be expected of lesser lifeforms, however they were still very much in the pre-civilization stages of thinking. It had been three whole days since his arrival to the Sea of Suremus and Andja and Saaja were still wrapping their heads around the concept of fire. Césure had many things still left to do, and the pile of extra work that was doubtless accumulating the more time he took to get himself settled was a heavy concern on his mind. He did not want to have to deal with the back-up of his sluggishness several centuries on from now, and the amount of dead who would linger could greatly increase the likelihood of anomalies and abominations cropping up, which he had neither the patience nor the inclination to have to deal with.
The next course of action for Césure was clear, and he tapped into Might, and carved another form from Surmite, beautiful and arresting in its imperious figure. The Suremuse Koguja, had need of a father. One who was like unto them, but also not. Furthermore, Césure's attentions would be elsewhere, but he still wished to have a hand in his children's affairs, whether it was to manage the Temple once that construction was complete, or merely to make certain that their tight-knit civilization prospered, as his disciples of death. The Avatar then, would be made in the image of the Koguja, and imbued with a portion of Césure's awareness and power. Lord Naisegai's eyes flickered open and he stretched his powerful crackling form lithely. Both Naisegai and Virgule experienced the strange sensation of looking at oneself but not, before their split mind acclimated thanks to the godly Might's powerful effects.
"I'll get some clothes, and then continue to teach the Koguja. As soon as they are capable of self-organization, the construction will begin on the Temple's outer structures. The chamber will be ready when we are." Naisegai intoned proudly, before departing at a nod from Césure.
The most pressing task to hand now, Césure dove into with relish. He flooded his hands with godly Might, and seized up the monumental ball of metal which he had ripped from the deepest parts of the planet, and began shaping it to the required form of divinity. He added accents of surmite and more than once, he sped off with the grail to a distant land to add one element or another. From the Plains of Madness, Césure took crystals of madness, of Gremju's make, to adorn the grail. From Pelegath's Swamps, Césure tore an entire scale plate of the back of a Vyre, with godly ease, which he used as the grail's foot. To complete the grail, Césure finished it by adding several spores of Ley from the Locus Amoenus's building site, as they had already begun to grow numerous there.
Pürihallgraal, Grail of The Damned, was complete. Césure's great works would soon be finished, and his labours begun in earnest.
(I really tried to keep with the character limit. It's hard! I think I did okay though.) Césure Virgule creates a glorified baby sitter for his Koguja, whose name TOTALLY has no pun potential whatsoever. None. Césure also creates his most sacred and important Divine tool, not that anybody knows what or why that is yet, and collects some souvenirs to spruce it up (and make it more difficult to steal/more effective in its intended purpose.)
Current Lvl. 2 Might Remaining: 2.75/5 -1 Might for Creation of Lord Naisegai, Father of the Koguja -1 Might for Creation of Pürihallgraal, Grail of the Damned -0.25 Might for teaching Koguja about Fire. Acts of Creation: 2/4
@Antarctic Termite So I need a clarification. Do we make CSs for Heroes? Or are they like Avatars, creations of our Gods who we just add underneath our pre-existing CSs?
The last days of summer are a tragedy, for those who live in the hills of Maradûn. The region is often arid for long periods of time, and it seldom rains there. The record high for the largest amount of precipitation in Maradûn in an entire year is only about six centimetres. And most of that six centimetres? It falls on Maradûn in the last days of summer, when the skies turn a brilliant greenish blue and the clouds blow in on eastern winds. Why then, is this time a tragedy? Because as much as the people who live there might wish it, Maradûn receives this blessed deluge of rainfall one in every seventeen summers.
It is for this reason that on this particular summer’s day, with the cold breeze blowing over the gently waving tufts of grass that topped Maradûn’s sand hills, that Meldie paid no mind to the skies, even in the lovely shade of cool emerald they now displayed. Meldie was much more preoccupied with the contents of the ground under her feet than what lay above in the heavens. She had recently been appointed as the Head Excarchiver, which was about as prestigious a position as the young woman could hope for. It was a task awarded to those whom could serve the tribe in no other means, but who were also ineligible for exile. This effectively, could only be Meldie, who had the collective misfortune of both being the daughter of the Patriarch, but also of being unmarriageable. This, on account of her “inhospitable” and “unreasonable” attitude.
Meldie scoffed at that, at she thrust the shovel deep into the earth. She was a gem, and anybody who couldn’t see that was blind. And much more to the point, she had no interest in kowtowing to any stupid old man her father picked out for her to marry. In the end, it was simple enough to incense every eligible man her father threw at her until there were none left. Of course, every person in the clan had to do their part, which meant that she was relegated to excarchivation. The menial task consisted of what was in essence busy work. Meldie would dig holes, ostensibly looking for treasures, despite the fact that she had never found any. The elders in the clan insisted that excarchivers had unearthed some of the most valuable secrets and lost artifacts in the clan’s possession.
“That’s a load of rubbish,” Meldie grumbled, her face locked into a petulant pouting expression.
“I love it when you look like that,” Caraw said, his voice filled with amusement. He had been walking up this particular sand hill in search of solitude and found something better. The Patriarch’s daughter, playing at being an exarchiver and digging around in the dirt.
“Go sit on an aurochs’ horn, Caraw.” Meldie hissed, stabbing down more angrily at the shovel. The last thing she wanted was for this creep to see her toiling in her exarchiver’s robes, which were far too loose in the front to keep the wearer cool during the hottest part of the day.
“I would do as you ask, your Ladyship, if only the comfortable perch you suggest wouldn’t startle our poor beasts of burden to death. You of all people must know how much we need them in these dry spells of ours. How else would we find groundwater, if not by their guidance?” Caraw said, his voice dripping with condescension. It was true, he was enjoying the view that Meldie’s loose robes afforded him, but a better part of his bitterness came from having genuinely wished for a place to be alone. None of the clan were allowed to wander very far away from the central pavilion, lest they fall afoul of Maradûn’s many perilous environmental features.
Meldie spat in his direction and continued on with digging her hole. Caraw sniffed at her, and walked to the edge of the sand hill, taking a seat on his perch to look out over the clan’s living grounds. The sand hills formed over long periods of time, the direction of the winds curling the hills over to form large crests atop which grasses often grew sparsely. To look eastward in Maradûn was to face a vast horizon of frozen waves, not dissimilar to the great seas of water that some of the eldest clansmen swore lay far to the west and the north.
Caraw, despite trying to focus on counting the pointy tips of the tents, found himself turning back towards Meldie’s hunched form. She was struggling to dig now that she had gotten below the initial layer of sand and topsoil. Meldie was breathing heavily despite herself and she squeaked in terror when she felt rough hands reach around her to grab the shovel.
“Here, see. You have to kick the edge of it down into the earth with the bottom of your foot, to break through.” Caraw muttered, his voice quietly terse. Meldie felt herself shaking between his arms like one of the flags her father flew from his pavilion tent. Battered and quivering in a strong wind, or in her case, the strong arms of Caraw as he pressed down on the shovel to lift up a chunk of earth. Just as suddenly, Caraw let go of the shovel and turned back away. He scanned the skies, and opened his mouth to say something when-
“Thank you, Caraw.” Meldie’s voice sounded so soft that Caraw had to swallow before he could face her. When he turned around to meet her gaze, she had already turned away to her hole, employing the technique he had shown her. The man, only a year older than Meldie, threw his hands in the air and sat back on the edge of the sand hill. His hair was tousled by a light wind, that tasted of sharp cold, of the kind that bit into his cheek. The soft thumps, and shearing tugs of the shovel into the earth were all that he heard, aside from Meldie’s shortness of breath. She could feel her lungs burning, with the lifting and the stomping giving her some sense that she could stomp and wrench her problems out of her life.
Clang!
Caraw and Meldie both flinched at the same time, their thoughts broken up by the discordant noise which broke the silence they had surrendered to. The pair of them forgot their squabbles, and both bent down into the hole to peer at what the excarchiver had uncovered. A small dull grey surface was poking out of the very bottom of the hole. Dirt-filled lines in the metal seemed to hint at a kind of written language, though the symbols meant nothing to either Meldie or Caraw, and soon enough the young man had leapt out of the hole.
“Get out of there and give me the shovel!”
“No! Why would I give you the shovel? It’s my find! I’ll dig it out myself.”
“You stupid…” Caraw pressed both palms to his face, screwing them into his eyes in frustration. “I’ll get it out of there in half the time, easily.” Meldie shook her head, and offered him no response. It didn’t matter that her bones ached, and her arms and back were on fire. She had picked this spot to dig, and it had been her shovel that had clanged so beautifully on a find. She would not allow somebody else to claim this prize in her stead.
When no response was forthcoming, Caraw took a deep breath and stretched. His back cracked satisfyingly as he did so, and without realizing immediately he saw how dark the sky had grown. The heavens were full to bursting with clouds, and these bore the dark shades of gray and black that Caraw had never seen in his life. He stood and stared for a time, dumbfounded.
“Meldie…” Caraw’s voice called, his tone serious to his own mind, but Meldie heard only a pleading whine. “No, you stupid boy. I will not allow you to take this from me!”
“Meldie!” She shook her head. That boy sure was a better pretender than she had given him credit f- “LOOK UP!”
She looked up, Caraw’s scream demonstrating a sincerity she doubted he could fake. Meldie raised her eyes skyward and when she did, the first raindrops in Maradûn fell upon her upturned face. The first raindrops that Maradûn had received in twenty-six years. Caraw meanwhile, was looking down on the clan’s pavilion grounds. Dozens of people were rushing about to and fro, bringing out any containers they could find to use. People had their water skins attached to funnels, and all their cutlery, and several people had even taken the waste troughs of the aurochs and emptied them in haste, though Caraw cringed to think of how they were meant to make use of water tainted by such filthy means of acquisition.
Meldie’s face was a blend of freshwater and salt, her tears tasting strong on her lips where she licked them. It had been so long that both of her parents believed the rains had finally abandoned Maradûn for good and all. She had never thought to see the rains, especially after her seventeenth birthday had come and gone three summers ago. Now though, the heavens burst open with all the pent-up flood of water that had seemed to have been gathered up in the quarter century since their last visit.
The sand hills turned to mud and soon the whole of Maradûn had turned darker than a moonless night. Thunder and lightning echoed and flashed high above, while the open air felt akin to swimming in a river, such was the power and amount of rain pounding the ground. Caraw stumbled away from the edge of the sandhill, turning as he did to see a glowing light, incongruous in the suffocating wetness. Meldie was seated on the edge of her whole, and she too seemed hunched over the water that had pooled there in mere seconds. Of course when the rain had begun to really fall, she could not possibly keep her face turned to the sky, but the glowing piece of metal which remained partially buried was mesmerizing.
Caraw joined her in sitting on the edge of the pool, but the glow itself merely served to accentuate the sheen of Meldie’s skin and the very revealing nature her robes took on, even accounting for their cut, by way of being soaked through. His eyes wandered over her, and as they did, Caraw shivered in the warm rain. He sucked in a breath and coughed wetly, his lungs taking in some water as well as air. A cold kind of fear took over him then. He couldn’t see the rest of the clan now, through the impenetrable walls of water surrounding their little light in the darkness. They were utterly alone. None of the stories either of them had heard described the summer rains as they now appeared, where they seemed fit to drown the world and everything in it. Meldie felt the same unease growing sense of horror at the sheer power of the forces of nature working against them. Before she could object, Caraw had rounded the edge of the hole and inched close to her side, wrapping her again in his arms. There was none of the tension and fear she had felt before when he showed her how to dig. Now he was a shelter to hide in to keep the fear away, and she gladly did so, resting against his chest while he tried to see through the rain.
The glow grew in its brightness, and Meldie turned her face into Caraw’s chest. It didn’t help, somehow the light found its way into her eyes. Caraw was having a similar problem, and he couldn’t find a way to shield his vision from the glow. A loudness filled their ears and their skin tingled. The clanging sound of the shovel on the metal artifact rang and rang and rung one last time. The two young people were whisked away from Maradûn, to a place distant in space and time. Clan Ruthlû paid no mind to the disappearance of these two, as they had to deal with the worst blow to the clan in generations. Thus it was that nobody was present to watch the shining artifact slowly obscure itself under layer upon layer of wet topsoil and mud.
The real tragedy of those last days of summer, was that nobody ever noticed how frequently excarchivers went missing in Maradûn, and that none ever came back. The rain stole them up and away from the homeland in the hills, and cast them into new worlds, always alone and without anybody to guide them. Until now.
Caraw landed with a thump on his chest, soaked through and coughing up copious amounts of water. His eyes were still burning and he pawed around blindly for something to gain his bearings. His hand slapped wetly against something soft and round, that was also profoundly wet but also seemed vaguely familiar. Meldie screamed when she felt something grab her breast and began flailing her arms in every direction, just as blind as Caraw was, and she slammed her fist into Caraw’s ear when she did so. Caraw yelped, rolling over in a panic, and clutching his throbbing ear. The two of them continued to roll about, trying the understand what had just happened while they waited for their vision to clear. Caraw cleared his throat hesitantly.
“Meldie? That was uh, I mean, did I just…” The young man waited for a reply, and found the silence to be worse than if she were screaming at him. Meldie, for her part, had turned redder than a rûthfruit, and was sincerely hoping Caraw was a blind as she was. She felt gingerly in front of her, her fingers brushing through what felt like a shorter variety of the rough grass that topped the sand hills, until her fingers brushed against another hand, which was Caraw’s, at which point they both recovered their sense of sight.
Immediately, Meldie wished that she’d never regained her senses, because the both of them were naked as the day they had been born. She screwed her eyes shut, but then cracked one open to see that Caraw was plainly staring at her. That made her face blush even more fiercely, but she opened both of her eyes and glared at the man.
“You stupid pervert!”
“Don’t act like you’re not curious as well!” Caraw retorted, knowing full well that they had both never exactly seen somebody else so exposed. In Clan Ruthlû, in Maradûn, one had to cover oneself in many layers of fabric to protect from the elements, the raging suns, and of course to preserve modesty for marriage. Caraw knew that some of the other men his age had already been married, or otherwise stolen glances of women while they were bathing. Meldie assumed that Caraw had naturally been one of those who had peeked, and she couldn’t possibly know how protective his mother was.
“So what if I am curious, idiot? Look around!” Meldie pointed out their surroundings, as they were sitting in a grove of trees covered in broad leaves, many of which spanned the breadth of a man’s torso. Meldie got up, and shoving down her shyness, tore a few leaves down and began to tear in specific places, her face knit in concentration.
“What are you doing?” Caraw asked.
“I’m making clothes, idiot. Didn’t they ever teach you how to do that, idiot?”
“Stop calling me that.”
“Make me.” Meldie snapped, working the threads of grass she could tear from the ground into the makeshift slots she had made.
“There we are,” she murmured, throwing on the leaf-dress she had made. It wasn’t terribly comfortable, practical, or modest, but it covered the important parts. Caraw examined her handiwork with interest, and he had a question in his eyes. He wanted to ask her to make him something to cover himself, but he was reticent after noting her behaviour just before. Instead of opening his mouth, Caraw sat down with crossed legs and set to making a basic grass rope. It took him several attempts to get the thread going, but eventually he got the hang of it. Fairly soon he had a very limited loincloth in the form of a bound leaf for both his front and his back, leaving him bare chested.
Meldie left him to his foolish fumbling with foliage while she began scouting the area around the grove. She had no idea how they had gotten where they were, or where it was that they were. Hopelessly lost in a forest with nobody to help them, it appeared she would have to rely on the pervert despite her wishes. She was returning to the grove when something tapped her shoulder. Meldie screamed and jumped simultaneously, scrambling back into the clearing with a crash.
Caraw leapt up to Meldie’s side, and saw a broken tree branch swinging gently in the brush just beyond the grove. He stood over his female companion and smirked widely, looking down on her where she lay, panting.
“Fearless Meldie, enemy of twigs! Who’s the idiot now?”
“You, idiot. I don’t want to see all of that.” Caraw promptly stepped back a few paces, examining his loin-leaf with consternation.
“Come on idiot, we have work to do.” Meldie told Caraw, fighting to suppress a grin as she said so. They had to prepare a fire soon, if they wanted to at least make it through the night without being eaten by whatever monstrous things might be lurking nearby.
The fire they prepared was a meagre thing, but in the gloomy haze of evening, the two young people huddled close to one another, and despite what came before in the dusty hills of their youth, an entire world lay before them alien and unknown. Left to what little they had left, in each other, Caraw and Meldie clung together. There in the shadows of the grove, the beginnings of a bond had begun to take shape. Even as foreign eyes were drawn from miles around to the light of an unshielded campfire, and a reign of a much different and more deadly kind, was on the cusp of falling...
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
