Lavish glade and lush green field,
Wizen'd oaks; to the blight all yield.
Weeping trees of crimson blood,
the Fields of Flesh turn life to mud.
Will you tread and smile and sleep
where devils dance and angels weep?
Once upon a time this sword may have been a sight to behold, but no more. Rust and decay now tarnish the metal of this forgotten relic, and those who stumble upon it are more likely to toss it than use it.
An unassuming sewing needle, five to six inches long. Certainly nothing out of the ordinary.
Watcher comes now. It comes to set me free
Of its curse of dark and emptiness and endless misery.
Those who turn from the light and find themselves entranced by the lure of necromantic power would heed well the tale of Ilken Lillett; A testament to the sacrifices which must be made to attain such power.
Herein lies the story of Aurali; the ghoul of Axtrami. The Vultuin Xactaki.
Deep within the shifting sands, natives whisper of creatures trapped within ancient tombs, their insane wails audible through feet of solid stone seals.
Read, now, as I delve through the mystery and bring forth the facts about the Tah’k Mumz’kar; the Bandage Beast; The Mummy.
Storm clouds! The folk of the caravan were overjoyed! They had been moving through the hostile desert for weeks, and this was the first they had seen of any sign of precipitation. The people actually cheered when the first drops of rain hit the desert sand. But soon the cheering turned to cries of confusion as the sand beneath their feet began to move…
For many years, the Periccus vine had been considered little more than a pest; and a dangerous one at that. However, modern advances in herbalism and alchemy have proven that this weed does have some use, after all.
For three long days the violent storm had ravaged the town of Iolinas, and the townsfolk had begun to wonder if it would ever end. Strangely, towards the end of the third day, the rain stopped suddenly, though the winds still buffetted the town relentlessly; some townsfolk thought it was finally the break in the storm. Others thought it was a portent of worse things to come… These people were correct.
Faith is a powerful thing.
Belief in ones self can help you push yourself beyond the limits imagined.
Belief in others can raise spirits and make them work with greater fervor.
Belief in a religion can make people perform actions which would otherwise be unacceptable.
Once however, long ago in times forgotten, someone believed so deeply; so strongly, that in an eternity of darkness, a glass eye opened.
The words which lie herein are a documentary of the Ouzala - the Weapon of the Ouzquin Dremorix - And the enchantments of Axtrami.
This is a codex to hold together all relevant submissions and articles for the Roleplay on the forums known as “Back in the Day” - GM’d by Murometz.
Shaft of heavens, burning bright. Gave us light amidst the night. Showed the means to reach our height. bestowed on us, Axtrami’s might.
“You know that saying that man made god? No, of course you don’t. But we didn’t make god. We made the Devil, and god is just a word the frightened cling to, to protect them from their own creation. And you? You are my creation. You are my devil.
Shaft of heavens, burning bright. Gave us light amidst the night. Showed the means to reach our height. Passed to us Axtrami’s might.
An object out of a children’s tale, few regard the Key of the Gods as a real object. But those who hunt for it may be in for more than they bargained for.
... And Alexi, Please don’t let this bring you down. You have your entire life ahead of you - Let me become nothing more than a memory. We will never see each other again.
Once every decade on the eve of St. Poskov's Day during mid-winter, the coastal city of Tiyabon experiences a horrific event. Quool's Tide rolls in, depositing hundreds of bloated, fish-eaten corpses upon the pebbly shores of Tiyabon's wide bay. This singularity is to this day unexplained, though countless theories abound. It is said for example, that these corpses are not eaten by the myriad fish of the seas completely, due to the fear all creatures of the seas hold for Quool.
Named for Quool, a terrible, antediluvian god of seas and storms, who no longer exists for he has no worshipers, the Tide chokes the beaches and surf with the countless rotting bodies of those who had perished at sea in a violent way.
Almost immediately, the lifeless corpses are fed upon by crabs, gulls, and worse things that await the horrid feast. The townsfolk let nature take it course with disinterested disgust, though lately some enterprising adventurers have taken to searching along the beaches of flesh for former deceased companions, with intentions of raising them again!
Surprisingly no undead ever rise from among the many corpses. This is also a mystery.