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Messages - SkagHunter

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1
Bug Reports / Re: Alchemy broken, themes not activating
« on: October 24, 2019, 08:07:31 PM »
Seems to include summoning themes as well. I used a tome, and that worked, but a summoning reagent (Mongrel Bone Totem) was not giving me anything

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Journals and Musings / Calling & Rite
« on: October 24, 2019, 01:11:45 AM »
It is as if a dam has burst. The nightmares no longer trickle and swirl through my sleep, they flood, they overwhelm.

I am standing in a darkened chamber, an altar of an outstretched giant's hand wrought of ice and bone stands before me, stained thick and dark as wine in past profane offering. I am surrounded on all sides by figures, cowled and chanting all. Their heads are holes, dark as their souls, though for some, motes and pinpricks of light shine through. An imperious, horrific cruelty here, an icy pale malice there, the desperate, bloodshot of a fellow afflicted thence.

The chanting swells and grows as the wind howls through the chamber, ever present. Though this time it is not laughing at me. It is not mocking me. It's scorn is directed at that which lays atop the altar. A bearded man, his bare chest bruised and purpled from some trauma, though it does not look as a beating or flaying might. His arms and legs and bent at wrong angles, the bone sharp and jagged as the winds where it pierces out, glimmering wetly before it vanishes, already joining with the glacial altar.

I step closer and raise my frigid arms. There is a sound at first like a tinkling, and then a great creak and crack as all six of the limbs move. Four are tipped with wicked talons, of the same bone and crimson ice as the altar. Two seem almost as they once were, though have taken a blue and blackish hue, withered by frost, though coursing with the power and profanity that now resides in me. I am Telak Vyte no more. I am something else.

The chanting swells and crests, and I can hear it now. NECROPHANT. NECROPHANT. NECROPHANT. NECROPHANT. NECROPHANT.

There is a dagger in one of my human hands. Curved and grooved, covered with ruins that make the eye water, and devouring the light it touches. A ghostly pale aura and fathomless malice and chill.

The man says something, though it is drowned out by the chanting. NECROPHANT. NECROPHANT. NECROPHANT. I know it to be defiance, as all of his brothers will show, even when their end comes. Even when it is their time to aid in the formation of the Grand design. In cracking the prison infinitesimally further open.

With sickening ease I carve his heart from my chest. It practically flys into my outstretched and waiting hand and sticks there, frozen solid. I lift it to my lips and sink crystalline incisors into the frozen organ...

And then I am trapped, fathoms deep in pitch blackness, frozen and enraged at my predicament, choking upon the ice. And then hundreds wake... the unassuming, the monster, the defiant, gasping and clutching their throats, choking for breath, and then I wake, clutching my throat, gasping and crying and choking for breath with a thick frost coating my beard and rime upon my lips, and I am the shell of a man once more, with the oily, sickening seed of something else slowly blooming within me.

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Journals and Musings / The Thing Inside the Cat. Nightmare Log 1
« on: October 22, 2019, 01:43:07 AM »
I have neglected this for too long. If I am to be dragged screaming into this madness and horror, the least that may be done is sharing it with the rest of you wretched lot.

I dreamed I was back within my home. Thick rugs covered the floors, and the cobbles were chill and slick with condensation. A fire burned merrily in the hearth besides me, and I reclined upon a comfortable, worn chair. I could not see out the windows, for it was late into the gloaming hour.  I heard a noise, out of place like a rusted blade being drawn across flesh and turned with a start.

In the doorway stood a cat. Or perhaps a thing pretending to be a cat. It looked no different than any other alley cat that would roam the city. Sleek. Dark. Perhaps a touch mangy. It turned to regard me with typical indolent feline languidity, and I noticed that it's eyes were not as a cat should have, and instead were endless holes through which something else that did not belong and very much took delight in my suffering watched.

As is the way with nightmares, there was a shift, as if the titan upon who's shoulder's this nightmare rested had shrugged in it's glacial trappings. The fire died, the windows became naught but jagged panes of broken ice, doing nothing to stop the sudden vehement wind and it's unending tirade of howling laughter and whispered atrocities.

It smiled at me, and a voice spoke, though it was far deeper than should come from such a thing of it's size. It spoke of how it would enjoy destroying me, dragging me down and down a hellish spiral. And then it began stalking towards me, as a feline is want to do, and I found myself unable to move, frozen in place.

It climbed up into my lap, a scent heavy of fouled blood and feculent rot growing stronger, and then it took a single paw and extruded it's talons, and dragged them across my neck, and it was as if something much greater and much more terrible had done so, my head practically thrown clean of my shoulders and a torrent of gore and bile spilled forth onto the floor.

I dreamed I was in the same chair, the same creature assailing me, speaking of the atrocities that It would commit, that I would commit. Carving me in spirit and dream-flesh as a skilled butcher or inquisitor might, the agony and duration increasing each time.

Seconds passed. Minutes passed. Hours passed. Days passed, though the darkness never lifted. Weeks passed. Months passed. Years passed. Decades, Centuries, Millennia, Aeons passed.
Until finally, my hand broke from my own glacial prison and took hold of the thing, and I swung it down upon the cobbles with such vicious, glorious freedom. Again. And Again. And Again, and again... until there was naught left of either of us but smears of gore and ruin.

And then it laughed that bone-grating avalanche of a laugh again, for it had won still. For when I woke, I knew what I must do.

And then my eyes opened.

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Journals and Musings / Numb
« on: October 22, 2019, 01:18:52 AM »
I woke to a world gone cold, my beard and lips frosted, my fingers and limbs numb with the chill. The fire had died in the hearth and each window had been tossed open with great force, shattered against the walls of our home to allow the raging blizzard in. My beloved, and my children were nowhere to be found, though I was given a grisly surprise... a trail of blood led from the room of my children, not one of them past ten winters.

I gathered my mace and set out into the storm, the wind HOWLING and MOCKING all the while. The words spoken in my dream- no, Nightmare returned, again and again thrown at me by biting, knife-like gales of ice and spite, whispered just within earshot, or perhaps I had gone mad... who is to say really. I continued on for what felt like aeons, and knew I would not be returning whole. My extremities grew numb, and then painfully warm, and then once more into a final numbness I knew they would never recover from, though little did I care. I followed that crimson streak through the storm as it burned it's way into my mind. A single streak of crimson across and endless plain of snow and ice and rock... a giant's hand covered in the gore of a fallen god's heart protruding like a monolith from the ice...

Eventually I found her. I found them. She had become demented, maddened with whatever sickness had taken her mind. She whispered and screamed and sang in time to the howling, taunting winds... as she sewed together the corpses of our children. I cannot recall if my anger warmed me, amidst this frigid hellscape, or if my heart had already frozen over, but I do recall wrapping my lifeless, blackening hands about her throat, and squeezing the life from her, the only recompense to this atrocity. She did not even fight me, cackling and HOWLING with laughter and curses as the copper wedding band ripped the skin from her throat with it's glacial chill. I watched as the light faded from her eyes, though I cannot recall for the life of me what color they might have been... all I saw then, and now is that same pit as in my nightmare, endless and full of malevolence.

As her corpse fell to the snow, the abomination in-front of her rose. The fruit of decades of love and toil, rising upon eight limbs and turning two sets of burning, blue eyes upon me. It moved quicker than anything so terribly constructed should, and raked needle-sharp fingers through my flesh while razored bone spurs protruding at all angles and nightmarish fangs shredded my left arm. But I had fought similar wretches before, and it soon fled before my mace, and the growing hatred that had overtaken what once held all that was good, faith, love, hope, joy, all tasting of copper and ash within my mouth. I tracked the wretch with single-minded determination, back to my home. Even as my veins pumped crimson ichor into the snow, until it too froze over, and my fingers and limbs grew ever colder I stumbled on. Eventually I returned home, and cornered the thing. It was dashed, both it's skulls split and dripping from the thick rugs of the house back out into the storm. A lamp or torch had fallen free during our struggle, for all that remained of what was once my home burned, thick, oily smoke rising only to be hauled away by the cackling winds... and I too had paid the price for my Pyrrhic victory, my left leg shattered at the kneecap in a single blow by the unholy strength of a thing no bigger than a man, all together. I had dragged myself away from the flames, further into the ice and cold to watch and to die. I felt the life seeping from me, dripping across the shards of bone and ravaged meat spread across the ice, the searing, though quickly dulling pain. I closed my eyes...

And woke.

5
Journals and Musings / Unraveling
« on: October 22, 2019, 12:48:25 AM »
I think I dreamed then, the first of many to come. I saw  a titanic hand thrust from endless, crimson ice, a lake of steaming blood pooling in it's withered, clawed hands. Something awaited me in the center, as the winds whipped and howled all around. My beloved, her enrapturing, gem-like eyes gone, replaced by endless pits, her loving, kind smile replaced by something savage and cruel. She took me in her arms when I reached her, her fingers bloodied, the sanguine stench of the lake entirely overwhelming... and she spoke and told me all that was to come. All that must be done, until I woke, screaming for breath and sanity.

6
Correspondence / Re: A letter left for the Inquisitor
« on: October 11, 2019, 12:10:25 AM »
Dearest Mairead Glitt,

I'm not sure why you might think that I would want to harm you- unless of course you are a changeling or- in the case of the Arbiter, wished to see me slain, my eyes plucked from my head and peeled for my association with an Aasimar.  If you still wish to meet, do let me know for I aim to be of service.

In Service to the King,
Inquisitor Telak Vyte

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Journals and Musings / Home
« on: October 10, 2019, 03:01:16 AM »
I wonder if this is all a dream, and I am to awake soon, out of this nightmarish hellscape, awake back to halcyon days in a quaint if frigid homestead amongst the northern mountains, awake where the chill can be fought off, awake before what I had made of my life burned or was strangled by my own hand... but I do not think it is to be.

She had returned from an expedition into the ruins of a fellow practitioner's compound, if only barely. If it was she who returned, then she had witnessed horrors then unimaginable, though now I see them in ever moment, waking or otherwise... She was wounded, deep within the private fortress of her mind, and without, her fingertips raw and skinned, eyes reddened from weeping- or perhaps laughing, and she shook like a leaf in a gale, shivering to a Wind that I could not feel, though the chill upon her I most certainly could. She brought with her a grimoire, darkly, suspiciously bound, whispering, mocking, laughing without making a sound, what I know now to belong to the Winds and their Master. A bringer of ruin and all that is wrong with these worlds.

I thought her feverish at first, addled by her injuries and so terribly frostbitten was she. I recall directing our children elsewhere, to bring in wood for the fires, anything to keep them from seeing her miserable state. Three days did it take to nurse her back to health, enough that she could speak. Her tongue lashed then, like a serpent, spewing maddening, venomous words. I tried to comfort her, to warm her, but it amounted to naught. Little could be done, and so eventually I fell into a stupor of exhaustion.

8
Journals and Musings / Catastrophe
« on: October 10, 2019, 02:50:12 AM »
Sequentially... That's where to start. It's only logical.

I cannot recall how we met, for the Rings have stolen that from me. The name and all small details of the ones I once loved. She was a mage, meticulous and arcane in her mastery. I could once recall her eyes, a beautiful shade of- something, though now all I see when I try to remember is a yawning void where such beautiful orbs once were and a vicious, jagged smile. I recall she was captured once, taken as a witch to be burned. It was not the easiest to free her, though with the aid of my brothers in faith it was done. Perhaps it should not have, or perhaps that is simply what the nightmare wishes me to see and remember, what the Winds in their infinite cruelty desire.

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Journals and Musings / Telak Vyte's Journal
« on: October 10, 2019, 02:32:40 AM »
Where to even begin?
The Dreamweaver said I should keep a journal of my nightmares, and I suppose I should keep record of what I was, before all of that is lost, not that much of anything matters. Ash, Ruin and Ice are all that are left to me.

10
Notices and Bulletins / Re: [A Staked Sign in the Commons]
« on: September 29, 2019, 05:42:53 AM »
Inquisitor Telak Vyte

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Correspondence / Re: Aktosh, the Emissary
« on: July 30, 2019, 05:51:02 PM »
[An envelope and letter, both of some sort of black paper, wrought with strange, red inks seemingly of the shade of vibrant, freshly spilled blood is left for William. An infernal sigil seems to be placed at the bottom of the letter]

Dear Mr. Smith,

Your interest in Ib'jhavi Enterprises and my person is noted. A call shall be made, and you may find me at the Open Door Inn of Ticker Square.
We shall retire to more comfortable environs after, courtesy of the Merchant's Guild.

Warmest regards,
Akthos Thyrexus, Emissary of Ib'jhavi.



12
Correspondence / Sir Adrian of House Velstra
« on: July 24, 2019, 06:08:06 AM »
A fine black envelope is left at the vale, smelling strongly of sulfur and cigar smoke, inside is a letter written in what seems to be fresh blood, or an ink of close and deliberate approximation. An infernal sigil smolders at the bottom.

Sir Adrian Winespill,

I have heard great things of yourself and your house, and your impressive neutrality amongst the strife and chaos of this recent bout of inter-ward conflict has piqued my interest further.  I would enjoy sampling the fabled decadence of you Vale, and perhaps speaking of business if you've the inclination, as i'm sure there must be something we can assist each other with, or some deal to be made.

Yours truly,
Akthos Thyrexus, Emissary of Ib'havi the Unbound.



13
Screen Shots & Obituaries / Re: Agamast Nephezar
« on: July 22, 2019, 09:57:16 PM »
A very imposing enemy to have. Was cool to see someone whip the Nephezar house into a much cooler shape. Well done!

14
Considering the content of the quest, I think raising the cap of it to include higher powered characters (Likely the people who will be able to do the quest anyways) would fit well, as well as allowing higher powered characters some more content to interact with... Escpecially considering quests such as kobolds in the mines and goblin ghost are 11/12 cap

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Suggestions / Re: Ring 94 Pillar
« on: July 06, 2019, 08:10:02 AM »
Under the already placed writings with 'The companions' and 'further below' which has Amonkas, Irhaal, Tenilue, Thronspike, etc... please add, beneath the latest additions

[Even more scratchings.]
AUNRAE
KADE

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