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Solanumtinkr

Solanumtinkr

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Which unfortunately ends just short of the some odd... oh that's what Gleam Weed looks like. The advice was not to draw weapons anywhere near Gleam Weed, there's something living in them. Something very hungry, lots of somethings with even more teeth. And some maniac is making drinks from this stuff? Well at least the lake should be easy enough to swim across. It was a nice thought and another drink did protect me nicely from monsters in the lake. I ran and dived in and one of those blob things screamed and catapulted me right back out gain. And right into a tree on the island, WHAP! Back on the ground and at least it was easy and I didn't get wet, bonus! :D

Slaying and Adventuring is definitely an occupation where you need a sense of humour. That and a very dense skull as something is always whacking it to count your brain cells using echoes. And I found the cave the hard way, by falling out of the tree and straight into the hole. Not that I noticed the pain, I was too busy wondering what else was in the drink. The cavern was hot and moist, there was a stream of water coming from the lake above, which should have meant no lake at all, as it was that large. Yet a liquidy crystal vine lined the outer walls and the water was flowing back up it very quickly after being drawn through the steam lake below.


Part 3 continued... The purpose of adventure is to shine light into dark places,
Poke monsters with a sharp stick, Then steal anything that isn't nailed down!
To the Manor Born QFC 185-186-367-65788716

24-Dec-2015 21:55:40 - Last edited on 24-Dec-2015 22:08:34 by Solanumtinkr

Solanumtinkr

Solanumtinkr

Posts: 22,240 Opal Posts by user Forum Profile RuneMetrics Profile
Part 3 continued...

That was the source, the lake is purely a disguise as the whole lake above is a blasted nest and monster in one! So much for killing the source. But there were plenty of things drifting about, some seemed to be trying to talk to me, trying to convince me to do something for them. Problem being is that Gleam Weed liquor is really messing with my head. Nice trick, if you're 2 sheets to the wind they cannot influence you. With a grin I launch into their midst and attack with one thought keeping that smile frozen in place, Port Town is going to very merry for a very long time to come.

The cavern is a beautiful place, even if a bit deadly, and still would be if we could just find out what this thing is. With what I recover from the Walkers I feel that this thing is just a minion or a symptom at most. It's not the cause. The Gleam Weed is the opposition's, I did manage to get a few seeds. Maybe someone should grow some near town. The way out was easy enough, straight up a vine..rise? Well you can't call it a water fall if it's rushing up, can you! With a quick flash and splash I'm launched onto the shore. And I start trekking back.

Back at town I pin the notice back to the board with a few additions of my own. The pub is open. The beer is fresh off the boat. And I made a fair amount off the task. I am a Slayer and Life is good. The purpose of adventure is to shine light into dark places,
Poke monsters with a sharp stick, Then steal anything that isn't nailed down!
To the Manor Born QFC 185-186-367-65788716

24-Dec-2015 21:55:55 - Last edited on 29-Dec-2015 23:55:55 by Solanumtinkr

Rondstat

Rondstat

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So, last year I wrote a rough overview for a three part quest series set in the Eastern Lands . I recently revisited it, and finally posted it (I had posted part one long before). Rewards for the final quest include Temekel Chronicle Fragment lore drops. I decided to try writing up what this lore would look like.

Though this is very much headcanon, it's heavily based on lore clues (many of them visual) released in the game since 2011. The choice of Temekel is fairly arbitrary, but I think Temekel or Trindine would be the most likely candidates as progenitors of Ritual Magic.

I.

The problem with Empire is Emperors.

I see them, ensconced in their minarets high above the temple, their corpulence overwhelming the imperial mezzanines as they gaze over the city. I hear a dozen, a hundred fanged mouths wheezing the sweet air, and my stomach turns. They do not remember what it is to be hungry. Perhaps they never knew. I speak, and their words turn to ash in my mouth – as the bodies of their minions turn to ash beneath my cudgel. To think that the Mahjarrat would be reduced to this – barking with the tongue of animals!

I joined the Empty Lord, of course. What choice was there? A few remained with Icthlarin, true, but they were overwhelmed by sentimentality – an emotion alien to Freneskae. They died for their folly. But now I wonder if we haven't embraced a meaner death, slow and contemptible. A death of kowtowing to our 'Lord' and his generals, as our pride ebbs away. Even the magics of our ancestors have been *********, given Infernal names and freely doled out to any who pledge vassalage to the Empty Lord.

My kin have accepted their shackles. Some are even eager to serve the mindless, demonic vermin. I will not be shackled. The demons will serve me. They shall be forced to speak in my words, submit to my spells. I will be no one's lapdog.

15-Feb-2016 23:01:52

Rondstat

Rondstat

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II.

I had never put much stock in humans. They were like the trees – an inconsequential piece of the landscape, to be freely demolished when they got in the way of higher beings' designs. A score of humans could not hope for victory against one Stern Judge.

On my way to meet with the Legate, I passed a group of humans – mere children – digging in the muck for the soft stones they call runes, and creating jets of flame, blasts of water, bursts of air, simply to amuse themselves. I understood something the others have missed. The humans are puny, their anima but a mite next to ours. But they have potential to be so much more. And while demons, vyres, even Mahjarrat are set in our ways, unchanged from our ancestors in millenia past, the humans are malleable, eager to learn.

My people live and die by our Rituals. It is the centre of Mahjarrat existence. I will give the humans rituals of their own, a magic that is not bound to precious rune stones and their fickle power, but that is drawn from their own life essence. No words of Infernus will cross their lips, and I will be their only master.

I have already taken a dozen disciples. I have carved out a niche on the eastern coast of the continent, far from the prying eyes of the Legate or the church. Here I will build my sanctuary from Empire.

III.

The prowess of my students grows daily – as does their number. They have begun to summon chthonics, and the feeling of seeing these smug creatures, their bodies twisted and manipulated against their will, by the humans they thought no more than sustenance – it is indescribable.

15-Feb-2016 23:02:41 - Last edited on 15-Feb-2016 23:05:18 by Rondstat

Rondstat

Rondstat

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The first rituals were sordid, bloody affairs. Half a dozen acolytes died before they could even summon a portal into the front garden. But I have slowly refined my methods. My disciples gather in groups of no less than six, drawing a piece of life essence from each, that all may weaken but none may perish. When an outsider happens upon our compound or a student's insubordinance grows beyond the point of discipline, we occasionally use a designated sacrifice, but these events are too rare to be sustainable.

The humans have become more adept with the syllables of my proud language, and the ritual circles they draw in blood have become more complex as they have learned to trace the flows of anima. Still, many are left perilously drained after performing rituals, and there have been more than a few 'accidental' sacrifices.

However, their idiocy has led to perhaps my greatest accomplishment. The constant ritual magic conducted in my fortress has left a sort of 'node' in the Anima Mundi, turning our location into a crossroads of mortal energy. By harnessing and concentrating these energies, I have been able to create something like a 'spring' of anima, deep beneath my fortress. While its powers are somewhat weak, its supply is potentially limitless, and with more research, this iridescent green fluid may allow humans to conduct solo rituals!

I do have one confidant in the Empire. Legatus Zamorak has expressed keen interest in my research, and while I once gave him little credit, he has proven nothing but supportive. He is indeed a powerful ally to have – there has even been talk that he may be elevated to Legatus Maximus.

Our own Ritual of Rejuvenation approaches, and I must travel to confer with Zamorak at his palace. Though few could question my power, there are many individuals in the Empire who have grown suspicious of my disengagement with its affairs, and it would not do to arrive to the Ritual Stone unprepared.

15-Feb-2016 23:03:24 - Last edited on 15-Feb-2016 23:06:10 by Rondstat

Rondstat

Rondstat

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IV.

I never made it to Zamorak's palace.

I was ambushed by Duke Av**us and a legion of his lieutenants. Alone, he would have been a match. As it was, I was hopelessly outnumbered, and taken prisoner. I knew his bonds could not hold me for long, but they didn't need to. I missed the Ritual.

Azzanadra appeared before me, bringing his fleshy face to within inches of my bony visage. He knew what I was doing – heresy against the church. Now I was weak – too weak to give him a fair fight, too weak to represent our race – and I would answer for my sins. He had prepared a special chamber below the Temple, to serve as my prison for the next five centuries, until it was my turn to be sacrificed.

Somehow, Zamorak found me. As we emerged into the night air on the outskirts of Senntisten, he named his price for rescue. My writings, my disciples, my fortress – every aspect of my research would pass over to him. I would leave the Empire, never to return. As when I joined it, there was little choice.

I traded my face for that of a human, a man named Haricanto. He had been one of my most dedicated disciples, until a failed ritual to bind a demon in endless torment claimed his life. I boarded a skiff off the east coast, headed for the fabled lands beyond the Eastern Ocean, as the silhouette of my fortress, my livelihood, faded into the mist. I was leaving my legacy behind, but not my magic.

I would begin again in this new land. I would raise a great Occult, and this time I would not limit myself with safety or sympathy. I would adopt sacrifice as part and parcel of this new magic, as it was meant to be, as I had always known. I would rebuild my power, then multiply it. I would need no Ritual of Rejuvenation. And then, when the time was right, I would exact my revenge against Azzanadra and Av**us. No matter how many worlds the Empire spread to, no matter how many portals I had to pull them through, my tormentors would be brought to justice.

15-Feb-2016 23:04:34

Cybernet377
Aug Member 2008

Cybernet377

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Zemoregal's days were usually uneventful.

Wake up, practice his evil monologuing, oversee the training of his zombies, and maybe be forced to deal with some arbitrary demand of Hazeel or Enahkra to "prove his loyalty" to Lord Zamorak.

Zemoregal could tell that today would not be one of those days when he entered his manor and saw Sliske's wight* rummaging through his crates, shelves, and bookcases, all while the slippery Mahjarrat himself flipped through the books that they found, before flinging them over his shoulder into a small pile when he reached the end.

"Vermin, I hope you have a good explanation for this, or are you simply so eager to die that you personally came to me?"

Sliske's head snapped up, and for a second he had a concerned expression on his face, before it was seamlessly replaced with a mocking grin.

"Zemoregal, I must say, your organizational skills and decorating ability really have not improved over the years. This place looks even messier and haphazard than the last time I came here. No wonder you seem to have put on a few pounds, the whole atmosphere screams 'I can't be bothered to put any effort into appearances'."

A bolt of magic is hurled towards Sliske, but detonates prematurely midair, a scorched crossbow bolt buried into the wall revealing the cause. Karil lowered his bow before returning to his crate.

"Why. Are. You. Here, Sliske. This is the last chance I'm giving you to use your forked tongue and answer me." Zemoregal snarled, hand still crackling with magic.

"Fine, have it your way." Sliske sighed while putting his hands up in a mock surrender, "I know that you and Lucien were talking at several points prior to the last Ritual of Rejuvenation. I want to know if you found out anything about his daughter, that little girl who follows Zamorak around."

"You're interested in the creation of such mongrels? You'll find no information from me. Lucien wouldn't tell me the methods, only writing her off as too weak to be of use."

04-Mar-2016 05:36:36

Cybernet377
Aug Member 2008

Cybernet377

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"Hm, that is unfortunate. Such information would have been quite useful" Sliske frowned slightly. "Well, it seems I'll have to figure out on my own how to mate with humans."

The entire manor went silent. The Brothers stopped and looked at their master with heads tilted in confusion as Zemoregal massaged the sides of his face past his eyes, an action that lesser races commonly used to ward off head pains when undergoing trying situations, pains that Zemoregal was sure he felt all-too-clearly when he heard Sliske utter that phrase.

"Why, pray tell, would you need to mate with a human? I did not think that you would be one to be interested in such pursuits ."

Sliske at least had the decency to look sheepish. "Well, it's that World Guardian. She has some rather...peculiar deviance, as well as an infatuation with me that my little fangirl Relomia would be jealous to find out about. I pulled the human into the Shadow realm to tell her about the actions the various gods are taking after the shakeup my little scoreboard caused, only to find that she had painted her face to look like that of a Mahjarrat, was overjoyed to have some 'private time' with me, and had a curious desire to remove my robes. Naturally, I fled and came here."

"How can you seriously speak of breaking into an enemy's home and reading through his books as if it were a natural course of action? Especially when fleeing from a human." Zemoregal grunted, flinging another crackling sphere of magic that was once again destroyed by a perfectly aimed bolt.

"Regardless, ta ta for now. I'll be back if you find anything new."

Although Sliske and his wights were no longer there by the time the sentence had been finished, Sliske's maddeningly obnoxious laughter echoed through the manor for several minutes afterwards.

Zemoregal sighed heavily.

"I can only hope that he doesn't succeed in finding out. I suspect a half-human child of his would be no less irritating than his father"

04-Mar-2016 05:37:13 - Last edited on 04-Mar-2016 05:47:03 by Cybernet377

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