* * Hello, how doo. It's been a while since I posted something here, but I have a few things in need of feedback. It's important for me to say that these are not stories, not at the moment...They're a sort of, fact file, about the world of 'Kismet' which I've been taking the time to flesh out before I begin writing its stories. With that in mind, these aren't the most...cohesive of pieces; they're written largely ad-hoc, and are probably full of spelling/grammatical errors the likes of which have never been seen before. Also, 'Kismet' is just a working title; I'm not sure how it sounds as a name, so feedback on that would be trés nice aussi. TL;DR: Sorry for any mistakes, and that these aren't terribly interesting to read * * Addendum: This will probably be the most interesting of the sections to read, as it's written in a more story-like fashion. Heroes and Villains Heroes Tharadun Thunderhammer “Standing at a diminutive four foot, three inches, you would be forgiven for thinking of this Dwarf as one of the lesser of his kind; a mistake I made the first time I met him, one he regarded with much joviality and slapping of backs: something which, in itself, marked him out as something of an exception amongst his usually stoic kin. I was later told that this small, exceptionally cheery Dwarf was Tharadun Thunderhammer, a hero held in high regard by all of the races, and, of course, immediately made my apologies and left. Over the course of my stay within the Deep, Dwarven capital, whose name, Ardenhaerm, translates roughly into our language as “Earth Home”, I was offered many opportunities to speak with Thunderhammer, and was able to find out a great deal about him. Born towards the end of the War of Ascension, his childhood was, naturally, one which was rarely touched by the glow of happiness. A natural born Warrior, he immediately upon his nineteenth year signed up to fight against the humans. Rising quickly through the ranks, Tharadun proved himself to be both and vicious and powerful warrior, and an expert tactician. After the war was over, Tharadun, honoured by the then King Ourden, sought to compete in the Trials of Malbir; the only thing he felt worthy of his abilities. Seeking to impress the God-like figure of Dwarven legend, Tharadun sought out Forosoth Firebeard, the mighty Half-Dragon Warlord who terrorised many of the small villages around Eastern Europe. Creeping into his home, deep within the earth, Tharadun challenged the beast to a Duel, and after an epic battle, managed to best Firebeard and disband the army of Dragon-Kin he had assembled to do his bidding. Returning to Ardenhaerm, and to the priests of Malbir (servants to interpret the whims of the old spirit in the rock) Tharadun was distraught to find that his feat had not been noticed by the Old Dwarf, and he was not, in fact, destined for immortality. However, a spectre appeared to Tharadun as he slept, a tall figure, standing higher than any dwarf and carrying a spear. Tharadun, believing that it was the spirit of Malbir appearing to him in a dream, remained in his half-sleep as the spectre bent over him, drawing symbols on his forehead. When he awoke from his slumber, he was surrounded by the Priests of Malbir, who told him that they had interpreted the signs wrong, and that the old Spirit was waiting, in the chamber of ceremonies, to pass on the gift to him. This is but one of many of the stories he told me about his life; and perhaps the one that I found most interesting: The Dwarves stories of how they gained their immortality have always been of interest to me, as it is a practice that no other race (as far as we know) can participate in. As a side note, in reference to the “Spectre of Malbir” that appeared be fore him as he slept: I have said nothing to him, for fear of damaging his pride, but the description of a ‘Tall man, bigger than any dwarf, carrying a spear’ sounds remarkably like the elusive ‘Pixie’, a Hero that his fellow immortals speak of with near god-like reverence. It has been my dream, since I first started documenting the ways of this world and discovered the immortals, to meet this ‘Pixie’ of whom they all speak so highly; one day.” Shortspike – From the Diarys “Another of the Heroes who I have found during my pleasant stay within the mighty, underground city of Ardenhaerm was an interesting character known to the locals in the district he resides as ‘Shortspike’. The Dwarf lived over a dilapidated looking old shop located, oddly, within a residential district of the city. When I asked him why this was, he told me, simply, that he didn’t like the smell of the Merchants. I found Shortspike to be odd; that is to say, he was very different to the rest of the Dwarves whom I met in the city. Where most of the denizens of Ardenhaerm treated me as a slightly offensive nuisance, some indeed with open hostility, and even Tharadun who had come to be a great friend over the many years we have spent together; Shortspike (whose real name, to this day, I do not know) treated me with clinical neutrality. He was good enough to answer many of my questions, although a great deal, especially those with regard to how he earned his immortality, he simply dismissed. As it turned out, Shortspike himself was an inventor of sorts; while a practiced Mage, though of what school I do not know, for he refused to tell me, he dedicated all of his time to inventing strange, new devices. Although one of the many questions he himself ignored, I asked those among the Dwarves who I now considered my friends how it was that Shortspike came across his moniker; according to those who were willing to indulge me, Shortspike developed a defence system for those dwarves who were excavating the network of tunnels between the major underground cities. Apparently, whilst down in the deeps, Dwarves were prone to being attacked by many of the feral beasts that inhabited the spaces under the earth; this defence mechanism, apparently, involved a number of short, retractable spikes that would pierce the flesh of any of the beasts that managed to get a hold of one of the tunnelers. Thus, their inventor was named “Shortspike” by the tunnelling Dwarves; a name he, apparently, accepted without knowing. In my time remaining here, before I move on to visit the forests of the Elves, I shall attempt to work more answers out of Shortspike, with the help of his fellow Immortal Thunderhammer, I’m sure I’ll be able to make some headway. … It is my last week here, and I am already beginning to pack away the great mass of things I have accumulated here. I fear that I have failed to gleam any more details from the increasingly stonier Shortspike, and through my repeated attempts at questioning him, may not have endeared myself. … I leave without any more information on the reclusive Shortspike; I have made my apologies to him for my repeated attempts to ingratiate myself enough to be able to question him fully, but I leave feeling that, perhaps, I have made an enemy of the old Dwarf.” Sharpe “My arrival amongst the Elves was a much celebrated affair; apparently, the hauntingly beautiful creatures are much in favour of what I am doing, documenting all that I can find within the world of magic. I was greeted, as I arrived, by possibly the most beautiful woman I have ever had the pleasure to meet. She told me, upon shaking her gentle hand (a custom that is not present in either the Dwarven, or Elvin culture, which she must have picked up amongst us humans), that she was one of those exceptionally rare Elvin Heroes and that her name was, simply, Sharpe. I have enjoyed my time spent in conversation with Sharpe; a woman who, as her name would suggest, is exceptionally intelligent. According to her, however, it was not her intelligence that earned her the name which she now uses. Entranced as I was by her beauty, I managed to retain enough sense to pay attention to the stories she told me, many of which revolved around her early life, spent hunting the evil creatures that took up residence within the forests where she and her tribe called home. I found it hard to believe, at first, the tales she told me; I am not a sexist man, as many of my peers are, but I found it hard to believe that a creature of such grace and finesse would be capable of the acts of brutality and violence she described to me. After a few months of her tales, I brought this up sheepishly, feeling myself a fool for doing so: I, of course, knew that the elves fine forms and extraordinary beauty belayed a great strength and speed, and wondered if I was not right in my mind for believing otherwise in the case of Sharpe. She acquitted my foolishness with a simple demonstration of her combat prowess; the Elves, who have a surprisingly deep warrior culture, often hold trials-by-fire for those who are training in the martial arts. Sharpe, who I feared for as I looked on at her, surrounded by a dozen armed opponents, was to be one of those trials. As I saw them all lying defeated, with her standing in the middle of the ring utterly unharmed, laughing a laugh that sounded like the clink of toasting glasses, I most certainly knew that the tales she had told me were true. Before parting the Elvin forests, I met with Sharpe to discuss a matter which has been eluding me since I began writing my tomes on the magical world: the earthen deity known as ‘Pixie’. Although hesitant about the subject at first, she later began to tell me a little about him; unfortunately, while she knew a great deal about him, she refused to tell me much of what I wanted to know because, as she explained it “Pixies stories are his own to tell, and I wouldn’t betray his trust simply to tell you tales for your book”. It seems, as I have gathered from the Dwarves, that Elves regard stories with the same quiet reverence. I apologised, and thanked her for her time, and her hospitality; she couldn’t have been more pleasant. I think I will return to her company once I have finished my book.” Arch-Mage Sebastien DeFoe “I had rather hoped, that my time spent amongst the Dwarves of the deep, and the Elves of the forests would embolden me enough to write a small, interview-based biography of my former tutor in the art of Wizardry; I was, sadly, wrong. Within moments of arriving at the Arch-Mages office, I was being bawled at like a schoolboy: Consenting to give me the benefit of his years, one of the few Immortal humans who has fought on the side of Good, sat me down opposite him and began to tell me tales of his life whilst scribbling away at paperwork and shouting instructions to the various lesser magi who came his way. When I asked the Arch-Mage, whom I often found myself referring to as ‘Sir’ during my questioning (for those of you who aren’t aware, Sebastien DeFoe was the mage who trained me, and a class of my fellow magical cohorts, in the arts of Wizardry) how it was he came about his immortality, he simply glared at me and said “Hard Work” before once more returning to whatever piece of magical theorem he was working on. Spending time with the Arch-Mage was, other than Nostalgic, almost entirely useless. Whilst I do respect the man fully for his achievements, he is as arrogant as the day I stepped into his classroom as a young man, and his tales tell me nothing new about either him, or the elusive ‘Pixie’ whom I still seek.” Villains Banks and Wolfsson “Moving on, from the company of the Arch-Mage, I felt it was necessary to delve into the murkier side of magic, and indeed those who battle with the Heroes of the forces of Good; those ‘Villains’ I started with a family; the ‘Banks’ family, to be precise, those unfortunates who are born to be the keepers of the beast Wolfsson; a great and powerful Werewolf who is much older than many of the heroes whom I have enjoyed the company of for so long. I found the Banks family to be the keepers of a large estate in the moors of northern England, and was accepted into their midst with a graciousness I had certainly not expected from those tied so closely to such a murderous, blood thirsty beast. The Banks’ told me little of themselves, saying only that their family was bound to the creature, Wolfsson, by magics so old that they could not be understood by anyone who lived today. Instead, they told me a great deal about the beast itself; Of how it was pursued through the wide and endless forests by the hunter, Sharpe, and how it escaped into the flatlands and hid with the original Banks family, who promised to serve the creature in exchange for wealth and power; which it provided in droves by plundering towns and villages, returning the spoils to the Banks family. This, they said, was how they came to be in service to the creature; they explained that their forebears did not know that this deal would apply to all of their descendants, until the creature itself lay dead. The Banks, however, seemed to be a happy and relatively content lot; perhaps due to centuries of accompanying such an evil beast, they themselves had developed a taint, of sorts. Thankfully, I was able to conclude my business there quickly, as the Banks family assured me that many, terrifying unpleasantries would befall me, should I be there when Wolfsson returned from his daily roaming. Perhaps it was the air, in that place, but I was all the happier for leaving their magnificent abode behind.” The Brothers Grymm “Apparently, my visit to the Banks caused quite a stir within the, I hesitate to use the word, but for want of a more appropriate alternative; evil community. No sooner than a week after I left the Banks, in their magnificent country estate, I was approached as I sat in a wayside inn by a tall man, clad in thick garb of deep black. He told me that his name was Baron Arlington Grymm (the spelling of which he assured me on later) and that he was there to speak to me on behalf of his family, who wished, like the Banks, to be featured in my book. The Grymm family popularise themselves under the moniker ‘The Brothers Grymm’ in reference, he explained, to the tellers of children’s tales. He did not explain why. An imposing man, the Baron stood at a rough six foot, seven inches and had a skin of drawn, pallid grey. This last detail I noticed only after he had drawn back his thick, overshadowing cowl. He explained to me that it would be within my interests to keep the Grymm family happy, and I, of course, agreed that fact. Their reputation as one of the most violent and vicious sects of murderers for hire proceeded them in such a manner that I had fully intended to keep well out of their way during the course of my investigation into the dark side of magic. However, with their leader sitting in front of me, I wouldn’t have dreamt of turning them down. Despite the effort they must have gone to in the act of tracking me down, the Baron said decidedly little about him and his family. Telling me simply that, some time before his death, and rebirth as a vampire, he had been the Baron of a small area in Northern France, and that his family had banded together largely out of necessity rather than any particular want. After a time, the Brothers Grymm began to hire out their services as murderers of note, and through bloody combat and silent assassination, rose to become one of the most powerful factions in the dark underworld. At that, the Baron bid me adieu and left; leaving me feeling more than a little disturbed, and put off my search for those who battled against the forces of Good.” Noctum “My meeting with Noctum was, without a doubt, the most disturbing of all those I have endured throughout my campaign to document those areas of magic that are not discussed in polite society. Noctum, who invited me into a house so stained by the taint of decay that it was almost impossible to make it out of the forests edge upon which it sat, seemed at first to be a pleasant man, late in his years, who kept his face covered with strips of linen cloth due to an accident shortly after his birth, one that had caused him some unpleasant disfiguration. At first, I was not certain why it was Noctum, who had introduced himself to me as a Mr James Moss, (for, if I had’ve known his true identity, I would most certainly have gone no where near the man) had invited me into his home; although it all became clear to me after a time. Leading me deeper and deeper into a home that was much, much larger than it appeared to be from the outside, we came to a room whose entrance was securely barred by a large, wrought iron door that must have been erected at great expense. Unlocking the door, and showing me in, I was greeted by a collection of creatures and artefacts so utterly foul that I almost turned tail and ran there and then. Drawing closed the Door behind me, and lighting a candle, the man I knew then as James Moss simply laughed as I called forth one of the spells I kept prepared for my defence, should I need them. He motioned for me sit down, and told me that he meant me no harm. As I sat, I took in the room around me in all of its ruination. Stood against the walls were creatures comprised of vague masses of flesh; several of them hinted at humanity, but whatever they were they were certainly not of this world. In my time spent viewing the hideousness of the room, my host had removed the mask of linen that he had been wearing when we met. My first reaction was one of sheer horror; the mans face, decayed and rotten, clicked and rattled as he began explaining to me the truth of the situation into which he had lured me. As soon as I heard the name Noctum, I knew that I was in for what could only be described as, ‘an experience’. I had heard that name, or title if you will, for in the old languages it means ‘Lord of the Dead’ from those heroes who I had met with before: Dark tales surrounded the man, and he was certainly held with respect in the eyes of his enemies. Noctum told me tales of himself and his doings, all of which are far too heinous to mention, and also introduced me to those creatures he had lining his walls. He called them his sons, although they were clearly not related; the creatures were Homunculi, beasts cobbled together out of random assortments of flesh and bone. Some of them, as I had initially thought, were human in nature; some could even pass amongst humans with little to no effort. What it was Noctum hoped to achieve by displaying to me this carnival of the macabre, I do not know, but after he offered me the chance to study each one of his creations he bid me a hearty farewell, and allowed me to leave with no further instructions other than not to record the location of his home. While, as I have recorded it, this may not sound like the most terrifying of meetings, I will most certainly never forget the evil contents of the room that lay beyond the wrought iron door.”
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* * Hello, how doo. It's been a while since I posted something here, but I have a few things in need of feedback. It's important for me to say that these are not stories, not at the moment...They're a sort of, fact file, about the world of 'Kismet' which I've been taking the time to flesh out before I begin writing its stories. With that in mind, these aren't the most...cohesive of pieces; they're written largely ad-hoc, and are probably full of spelling/grammatical errors the likes of which have never been seen before. Also, 'Kismet' is just a working title; I'm not sure how it sounds as a name, so feedback on that would be trés nice aussi. TL;DR: Sorry for any mistakes, and that these aren't terribly interesting to read * * Addendum: This bit is partially out of sync with the 'History' section, because I'm far, far to lazy to edit it all again. It's also the most un-interestingly written section; sorry about that. The Races Humans: Humans are the backbone of the world. Most of them don’t know, only around 4% of the human population of the world knows about the existence of Magic. Humans, who are not creatures born of magic, are not all capable of using it; however, roughly 80% of the human population of the world can use magic (it’s a very common trait). Due, however, to their lack of knowledge, the ability normally lies dormant within them their entire lives. Human society is the same as real-world society. Within the ranks of those who can use magic, humans adopted a hierarchical structure; the humans are the ones who established “the Council”; a group of powerful, wise individuals who are responsible for overseeing the magical community on the whole. The Humans once fought a bloody war against the Dwarves, one that lasted over a hundred years, and in the end they won. The Dwarves retreated underground, while the Elves, fearful of the industrious, power-hungry humans delved deeper into the forests of the world. After many years of lonely sentience, the Humans forgot their Dwarven and Elven brothers, and eventually forgot about Magic altogether. But a small few remembered, and ventured into the Woods and under the Earth to find the other races and convince them that they need no longer hide away so deeply; that now Humans had forgotten about their existence, they may remerge from their hiding and filter in to Human society. The remaining human mages, along with Elders from the Elves and Dwarves, set up the Council. Elves: The Elves are filtered fairly well into normal society. Because they have a natural grasp of magic, and look so much like regular human beings, they find it very easy to intermingle with humans; to the extent that a lot of Elves have given up their immortality and gone to live life within normal society. All elves are immortal, although as mentioned, they can give up their immortality. Few choose to live forever, and are more than happy to live lives of regular length. Elves respect their heroes, and none more than the legendary Sharpe. The elves do not believe in gods; they’re an atheistic people, however they do respect the beliefs of others, and there are some Elvin converts throughout most earthly religions. The Elves are direct descendents of the Fey races, Pixies, Fairies, Nyads and such; Their heritage makes them the closest living creatures to the Primal Magic. As such, most sorcerers you will find will be Elvin. Elves tend to be carefree and impulsive people, a stark contrast to the serious and aggressive Dwarves, and they enjoy interacting with Nature and the elements. Most elves are also vein and fickle, and they love to be looked at. They’re incredibly beautiful creatures, thanks to their fey heritage. Elves that integrate themselves with Humans usually end up working in careers where they can interact with people. Sales, Waiting Tables, Advertising, Acting, Singing, Modelling; anything that affords them the chance to be ogled by humans would be an ideal career for an Elf. Dwarves: Dwarves are the oldest of the races, they are also the most out of place in Human society, and so tend not to mingle that much with their larger brethren. Dwarves still hold a grudge against the humans for defeating them in the War of Ascension, the thousand year long war between the Nation of Dwarves and the Rising Human Empire, and as such tend to be cold and unpleasant towards Humans, whenever they meet them; Especially the Dwarven Immortals. Unlike Humans, who must extend their lives through magic, and Elves who are all born immortal, Dwarves must earn their immortality, if they want it. A Dwarf who wants to earn his immortality must complete the ‘Trials of Malbir’ and impress the great Stone Spirit, who will grant the Dwarf immortality if he has impressed him enough. There are not many immortal Dwarves; one of the few being Tharadun Thunderhammer, the Dwarf who unknowingly helped Pixie to wipe out the Sons of Baléfor. Most Dwarves are pensive, calm, serious people who rarely show humour; the immortals are the only ones who seem (to humans) to have any sort of personality. Dwarves, having spent so much time underneath the Earth, are more attuned to the Natural and Primal Magics, so they are more inclined to become Sorcerers and Witches. The Living Dead: The Living Dead are, as their name would imply, a variety of undead creatures that have overcome mere Undeath, and risen to become new races in themselves. The two main races of Living Dead are Vampires and Ghouls; both of whom are exclusively evil Vampires Vampires are savage creatures that rely on the blood of others to live; they are solitary predators who live for the hunt and think nothing of killing those that still have the gift of life. Vampires as a race tend to live in tight-nit groups, occasionally bordering on the size of a small town or village, dwelling in empty places such as abandoned mineshafts, underground chambers or large Necropolei. Vampires, as it has been said, are particularly vicious predators; they tend to choose targets that are physically much weaker than they are, and drain them of their blood entirely. Vampires as a race can be considered intelligent, but in death they cannot use any of the forms of magic, as they have no soul. Vampires have survived eradication by the forces of good for so long by being quick witted, cunning, stealthy and when they need to be, extremely aggressive. Although Vampires cannot use the forms of magic that are enjoyed by living beings, a select few ‘Elder Vampires’ (those who have been alive so long and have ingested so much blood that they gain some measure of purchase or control over it) can use what is loosely called ‘Blood Magic’. A type of psychokinetic control they can exert over Blood. This allows Vampires of sufficient age and mental capacity an advantage over their younger kin. While Vampires are generally weaker than the Living races, they are extraordinarily tenacious, especially when taken by Bloodlust, and have a grip like riveted iron. Consequently, if a Vampire gets hold of you and doesn’t want to let go, then you’re most likely going to die. Vampires can be thought of, for the most part, as sentient Zombies who need blood to exist. Ghouls Ghouls are very closely related to Vampires, but lack their intelligence; making up for it with a vastly increased lust for destruction. Ghouls are very powerful, deformed corpses, possessed of incredible strength that like nothing better than tearing people limb from limb. Ghouls, bereft of intelligence, do not form groups or communities, and have an overpowering urge to destroy anything that lives. Ghouls are not difficult foes to defeat for those who understand them; but to an inexperienced warrior an encounter with a Ghoul could prove fatal. Lesser Magical Creatures of Note Nacks Nacks are a bizarre and unpleasant race of carrion feeders that are known for their hording of Old objects. Many Nacks are tolerated by the forces of good due to their extraordinary usefulness; Nacks have knack for finding rare, powerful and unusual items. The creatures are drawn to items of particular note; no one can explain exactly how, but they are very good at finding them, and often have vast collections that they will defend with their life. Defeating a Nack who is trying to protect their stash of items is no mean feat; if their horde is threatened, the creatures will enrage, becoming incredibly powerful and vicious, able to defeat all but the most skilled foes. Nacks have no community; they wander the world alone searching for powerful things to collect. Bizarrely, Nacks have no interest in powerful people (although do occasionally desire the items those people possess) and even more bizarrely they accept peoples ownership of items; for example, if a Nack was to find a person with a particularly powerful item, they would realise that the item wasn’t for them to collect just yet, catalogue it in their mind, and move on. If they desired it in particular, they may come back one or more times to check on the items current whereabouts/state of ownership. Should the item have passed on to another owner, the Nack will catalogue and move on once again. If the item is unclaimed, the Nack will take it, regardless of possible ownership. Nacks, as mentioned, are carrion feeders (i.e. they feed on the corpses of dead animals/people) and will not kill out of hunger; they often put their considerable talents to use finding food for themselves, and are very good at it. Should a Nack come across another Nack during its travels (which is very rare, as not only are Nacks themselves quite rare beasts, but they also have a sort of built in radar that naturally keeps them away from others of their kind) a bloody and destructive battle will ensue. Whichever Nack survives will leave with the others stash, as well as his own. Nacks will sometimes barter with people who wish to acquire one of their items; but they will only trade for something of equal power. “Physically, Nacks are small, shambling creatures not unlike desiccated, malnourished, hairless Apes. Their sinewy, elongated arms betray the tremendous strength they are capable of. Nacks are often covered in large, weeping sores, accrued over many years spent walking ceaselessly through all kinds of landscapes in an attempt to gather new and exciting items of power. When fighting, Nacks will launch themselves at their foes, attacking relentlessly, using the incredible reach provided to them by their abnormally, disproportionally long limbs to batter the enemy from afar. “ Vryxin These nasty creatures are large, carnivorous, flying arachnids that swoop down on their prey, wrapping their eight powerful legs around it and sinking their fangs into its flesh. “The main body of the Vryxin is made up of a thick, chitinous carapace, upon the back of which sits its powerful, exoskeletal wings. The wings are akin to that of a bat; bony, skeletal frames linked by a thin, translucent membrane. The wings come in varying sizes, proportionate to the size of each Vryxin; some particular subspecies have evolved disproportionally large wings, allowing them to fly much faster, but with less agility. Each of the Vryxins eight, thin, powerful legs are capped with barbed claws, or talons, allowing the creature to get an almost inescapable hold on their prey as they carry them off to be eaten. Certain subspecies of Vryxin inject their poisons through the barbs in their claws, as well as through their fangs; making them doubly effective in disabling their prey. Their most fearsome incarnation, the mighty Black Vryxin of Tibet, stands over eight feet tall, with glistening, serrated fangs that play host to vile colonies of necrotising bacteria. The Tibetan Blacks bite is known to be the most horrible of all Vryxin, as the bacteria that lives on the beasts fangs feast on the flesh of their prey, reducing it to rotted, dead mulch that the creature may feast upon at its leisure.” The Vryxin then carry the prey away, where it can be eaten in peace. Many varieties of Vryxin exist, from those who are only large enough to prey on small animals, to the biggest that can carry away a fully grown man. The sizes often denote what kind of poison the beast carries. Vryxin are nocturnal predators, only coming out to capture and eat their prey at night. Vryxin are semi-intelligent, and understand that if they hunt during the day, they are more likely to be discovered and eradicated. These animals live in large colonies, usually inhabiting caves where they create large ‘hives’ made of thick, steel-like webbing.
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* * Hello, how doo. It's been a while since I posted something here, but I have a few things in need of feedback. It's important for me to say that these are not stories, not at the moment...They're a sort of, fact file, about the world of 'Kismet' which I've been taking the time to flesh out before I begin writing its stories. With that in mind, these aren't the most...cohesive of pieces; they're written largely ad-hoc, and are probably full of spelling/grammatical errors the likes of which have never been seen before. Also, 'Kismet' is just a working title; I'm not sure how it sounds as a name, so feedback on that would be trés nice aussi. TL;DR: Sorry for any mistakes, and that these aren't terribly interesting to read * * COPYPASTA The History of the World: In the Beginning: In the Beginning, the world was nothing; there was only the great kingdom of Cestus, and its planar sister, The Pit. The two coexisted for a time; the Demons, denizens of the Pit, kept their distance from the Gods in the kingdom of Cestus. However; the Demons grew jealous of the wealth and beauty that the gods possessed. Driven by envy, the King of the Demons, Tek’thulon, ordered his finest smiths to work with the most powerful Dark Sorcerers to create a set of chains strong enough to bind the two worlds together. After thousands of years toiling in the great forges of the Pit, Tek’thulons smiths made the ‘World Binders’, a set of chains that the Demons could use to attach their world to Cestus, and destroy the gods once and for all. So began the Great War. The Creation of the Planes/The Great War: The planes were created during the great war between the Demons and the Gods; the Gods, wanting to ensure that the Demons did not breach Cestus, their homeland, created a system of planes between Cestus and the Pit. Many of the features of the world were created during the war, and Mainland Europe, the worlds only body of land for much of its early history, is the body of a fallen God. The war raged on for many, many hundreds of billions of years. The Gods realised that it would be impossible to defeat the demons; they were too numerous, and bred too fast to be wiped out completely; so the leader of the Gods, the great Graydir, ordered the Gods to drive the Demons back to the Pit, where they gathered all their power and sealed the entrance for eternity. The Gods, greatly weakened, realised that if the Demons were ever to break free from their Prison, they would not have enough power to defeat them again. So, Graydir decided to sever the chains that bound the two worlds together; a feat that would drain him of his power completely, and kill him. Graydir sacrificed himself in order to protect his people from the Demons, and broke the chains that bound Cestus to the material planes, and thusly to the Pit. The remnants of the battles between the Gods and the Demons were evident all over the planes; most obvious was the massive magical cascade (known in our world as “The Cadence”) that burned in the sky, and provided the worlds with their magical energy. The Birth of Life: For many years, the world was barren; but life outs, in the end. The Cadence gave birth to the first races; little more than random collections of elements, fused together by magic. Over time, more complex beings began to emerge from the cadence. The first sentient life forms were known as the Ancients; they grew from the corpses of the dead Gods and Demons that littered our world. Back in the beginning, there was no Good and Evil; Fey, the creatures that were born on the back of the fallen God, fought savagely with the Darklings, those born on the backs of the fallen Demons. Over time, the creatures evolved, and became intelligent; they developed their own societies, their own cultures, beliefs and morals. They were as vicious enemies as ever. The Fall of the Darklings: The Fey, born as they were on the back of a god, were beautiful, powerful creatures. But they were no match for the Darklings, granted power and savagery by their Demonic heritage. The Darklings drove the Fey back into their walled cities and laid siege to them. The Darkling forces were led by a strange and grotesque creature known to its brothers as Arnak’thanol, a being who grew from the inside of the Demon itself; a living part of the evil creature. A young Darkling general named Vidrago, a hero of many battles, who had fallen in love with a Fey woman and become disillusioned with the war effort, defected to the other side. With his knowledge of Darkling strategy and his excellent leadership, the Fey were able to force their enemies back. More and more Darklings began to defect, following their General, and the Darklings began to loose ground to the advancing Fey. Fearing his own destruction, Arnak’thanol crawled back into the corpse of the Demon from which he spawned, and used his dark magic to attempt to reanimate the creature. Vidrago, who noticed the absence of his old master, knew that the evil creature couldn’t be trusted; so he assembled a small force of the most powerful warriors, taken from the ranks of the Fey and the defected Darkling, and searched Arnak’thanol out. Eventually they found him, deep within the carapace of the Demon and after an epic battle, Vidrago drove his sword into the Demon Spawn, destroying Arnak’thanol and causing a ripple of vast, magical energy that destroyed the fallen Demon from the inside out. Vidrago, hailed as a hero by the Fey, died in the explosion. His final victory allowed the Fey to defeat and eradicate the remaining Darklings, and create a stable, peaceful world. The Death of the Fey: The Fey lived in peace and prosperity for a long time; but as all empires do, theirs eventually fell. The Fey were astounded when, one day, out of the blue there came a great and powerful creature, made entirely out of Crystal, flying towards their capital city faster than anything they’d ever seen. Shar’ti, the Queen of the Dragons, came to claim the Feys kingdom for her own. The Fey tried to fight her, but they were no match for Shar’tis mighty strength, and the Crystal Dragon tore the Feys kingdom apart. In an instant, she shattered the land that took thousands of years to build, and cast the Fey back to their roots as base, uncultured beasts. The Survivors of Shar’tis attack, those Darklings and Fey that managed to escape the great Dragons wrath, went on to become all the races of the world. The Reign of Fire: Shar’ti ruled her lands for hundreds of thousands of years, but after so long watching the growth of the lesser races, she became lonely, whishing she had other creatures as grand as her to keep her company. So, Shar’ti created Baléfor; the King of the Black Dragons, and second in power only to his mother: With his birth, the Reign of Fire began. A Hero is Born: Deep within the forests of Shar’tis Kingdom, there lived the Pixies; a tribe of small, humanoid descendants of the Fey, noted for being singularly female in nature. During a particularly oppressive magical storm, energy raining down upon the forest from the Cadence, a very strange Pixie was born. This Pixie was shunned by his tribe, cast out and ostracised because, as it was born, it killed its mother; This Pixie was, unlike all of his kin, male. Pixie grew quickly; he was fully grown, standing six feet tall, by his third week in the world; much taller than any of his kind. The Pixie wandered the world, out of place everywhere he went, learning all he could from other Fey-kin before moving on to find other teachers. Pixies first encounter with evil came when he saw a desiccated, broken creature crawling out of the earth; the creature shambled towards him, and, unclear of its intent, Pixie stood his ground as the creature approached. As it reached the lone Hero, the creature flung its arms wide, and enveloped Pixie, attempting to suck the life out of him. Pixie lashed out, beating the creature again and again but unable to force it off him. Feeling increasingly weak, pixie stumbled towards a clearing where he could see the remnants of a camp; Pixie was distraught when he found that the camp was empty, but he saw perched against a tree, a thin, simple spear fashioned from the branch of a tree. He stumbled towards the spear, picked it up, and thrust it through the body of the creature that had attached itself to him. As Pixie watched, the remains of Arnak’thanol turned to dust, and blew away in the wind. From that moment on, Pixie knew that his birth was not an accident. His defeat of the creature that was once Arnak’thanol showed him that it was his destiny to protect those that could not protect themselves from such evils; and so, the first of the Immortal Heros was born. The Fall of the Dragons, and the Great Stillness: Baléfor, the first son of Shar’ti, was born with the taint of corruption in his heart. For Millennia, Baléfor ruled over his children as fairly as any of his brothers, but as the years went on, the corruption that was born in him grew into an evil madness that took hold of his soul. Baléfor left the land of his birth, and flew out to sea to raise himself a new kingdom up from its murky depths. For many years, Baléfor lived in his new kingdom, surrounded by his own sons and daughters, plotting his return to his mothers kingdom until one fateful day, when his brother Rothor, the King of the Red Dragons, sought him out. The two argued heatedly, and eventually, it turned into a battle. Rothor did not last long under the powerful claws of his brother. Seeing an opportunity to use his brothers death to his advantage, Baléfor sent Rothors tattered corpse back to the feet of Shar’ti. The great Mother Dragon wept as she looked upon the body of the once mighty Rothor, and was filled with rage at the thought of how far her son had fallen. She took flight, and the creak of her mighty crystal wings can still be heard today as echoes in the deepest reaches of space. She confronted Baléfor in his lair deep within the centre of the earth, and attacked him in a fit of violent rage. She bested him easily, but as she stood over her son, she could not bear the sorrow of killing her first born; and so, in her despair, she flew up, out of the kingdom Baléfor had carved for himself within the heart of the world, into the sky, the light from the Cascade turned to brilliant, shimmering shards of sunlight as it passed through her Crystal body; as she intended the vast magical energy of the Cadence tore her apart, casting fragments of her hide deep into the earth, where they turned to Diamonds. The destruction of such a powerful being, so close to the thin fabric of reality that lay behind the turbulent magical energy of the Cadence caused an explosion so vast, it ripped a hole in the world. Over time, the hole grew bigger, and bigger, until eventually it threatened to destroy the earth; but in the end, it was the accursed spawn of Baléfor that saved us all. Thardon, Baléfors first son, and primary amongst the Black Dragons, saw what his father had done, and he knew that it had to be put right, lest the entire world be consumed by the void. He flew east, back to the dragons home-land, and sought council with Baléfors first sister, the Queen of the Golden Dragons. He told her of his plan; he said that, if all of the Dragons in the world could be assembled, and they all flew into the void in unison, then the sudden absence of the vast magical energy that they exuded would be like starving a fire of oxygen: Not only would the expansion of the void be stopped, but it would close completely, and the world would be saved. Gweden, that was the Gold Queens name, looked into Thardons soul and saw that he did not possess the corruption that bred within his father and the rest of his Kin, and so together, the two of them rallied the Dragons of the world; all but Baléfor and his closest kin, and together they flew through the void, into the absence of reality that lay beyond, and behind them the hole sealed shut, leaving the sky still for the first time since the birth of the world… The Seeds of Evil Throughout all of this, none of the races had noticed the dust in the wind; that fateful day, so long ago, when Pixie destroyed the remains of Arnak’thanol and cast his ashes into the wind, sowed the seeds of evil in the world. The ashes corrupted everything they touched, creating everywhere it went the mark of evil, the outwardly physical changes became the lesser creatures of evil; Minotaurs, Banshees, Ogres, Trolls and Goblins, Vryxin, Nacks and the Undead. But where it touched those higher beings it truly created evil: and that evil spread. The Sons of Stone: It had been a long time since the Great Stillness, when the world once more began to change. From the Stone, where the shards of Shar’ti had lodged themselves after her demise, there grew the first Dwarf, Malbir. Malbir, the wisest and most powerful of Dwarves, was followed from the rock by his brothers and sisters; and so the race of Dwarves was born. Born with the spirit of a Dragon, the Dwarves were prone to random acts of aggression, and it took all Malbir had to keep his brothers and sisters from destroying the land they inhabited. Over time, the calming influence Malbir had began to saturate the Dwarves, and they became a much more peaceable race. The Dwarves, born of the Stone, had a natural affinity for the earth, and built the first of their mighty kingdoms deep beneath its crust. The Dwarves lived within their earthen stronghold for many years; Malbir, the first Dwarf, passed on after an abnormally long life: Promising to grant immortality to those who prove themselves worthy of it, as his spirit passed into the rock. Out of the Forests and into the Fire From deep within the bounds of the few forests left after the Reign of Fire, there came the Elves, the last descendants of the Fey, and the second Higher Race of the new world. Immediately after leaving the forests, the Elves found themselves being harassed by the Dwarves, who were less then welcoming towards their new neighbours. The Dwarves, who had long since lost the influence of their leader, Malbir, and had fallen under the reign of the power hungry King Hjord, declared war on the Elves with the intention of wiping them out and taking their spoils. However, retreating into their forests once more, the Elves proved to be more than a match for the Dwarven armies. The Dwarves, enraged by this, began to burn the Elves forests to cinders; but before long, the two nations would be united against a common enemy…. The Enemy of my Enemy As the forests burned, and the Elves fought back against their aggressors, from within the earth emerged the Humans, descendants of those Darklings that survived the first war and the Reign of Fire. The Human race was young, and it was foolish, but within the heart of each man and woman burned avarice so powerful that it drove them to great power. Centuries passed while the Elves and Dwarves battled; the Humans watched, hidden away, amassing power and wealth in the lands far away from the turmoil. The Humans, who saw the wealth of the Dwarves of the mountains, desired conquest of the Dwarves. Marching on the Dwarven army’s stronghold outside the great forest, the Dwarves saw the size of the Human army and panicked. Appealing to the foes they’d been battling with for centuries, the two nations formed an alliance to try and combat this new threat: Unfortunately, for the Dwarves, they were unsuccessful. The Elves and Dwarves, weary, having fought one another so long, proved to be no match for the fresh, battle ready Humans. Routed, their alliance broken, the two armies fled: The Elves falling back to the depths of their forest, never to be seen again for many, many years and the Dwarves retreating to the mountains to prepare their forces to combat the pursuing Human army. The War of Ascension The War of Ascension, as it later became known, was the massive, thousand year long war fought between the Humans and the Dwarves. The war was comprised of almost endless small skirmishes, and huge numbers of large scale battles, including some truly massive engagements. The war only ended after the Dwarves, who had been warring for millennia, realised that they could not win; When the Humans seemed to be gaining the upper hand, the Dwarves would simply return to their impenetrable mountain stronghold and begin preparing to battle back the Human forces. However, the Dwarves would never make it far out of their city when the sheer numbers the humans had at their disposal would allow them to push back up to the Dwarves front door. In the end, both sides signed an agreement: the Humans, who had colonized the areas and essentially taken over the over ground world that had once been the home of the Dwarves, would retain their new lands, and the Humans would take a large bounty from the Dwarven nation. In return, the Humans agreed that they would release their choke-hold on the Dwarves; allowing them access to certain over ground areas where they could hunt for food. The Schism The Dwarves, sobered by their defeat at the hands of the humans, withdrew more and more into their Kingdom within the Earth. They began tunnelling down; deeper and deeper, constructing underground cities to rival the splendour of those the humans built above their heads. Eventually, the Dwarves, like their Elvin counterparts, withdrew into the earth completely, leaving the Humans with the run of the land. Then, after centuries without the other races, the Humans forgot about them; and as technology advanced and drove humans down the path of science, rather than magic, eventually that was forgotten as well. The Re-emergence Only a few Humans knew of magic, and even fewer remembered the two races who once shared the world with them. The few who remembered watched on as human society changed, became one more at home with technology than the occult, and eventually decided to try and atone for their races past mistakes. Some emissaries travelled to the great Mountains, where once the Humans had fought bloody, visceral battles against the Dwarves; some travelled to the Woods, where the reclusive Elves had seen the power of the Human race and recoiled from it, drawing back into their now shrinking forests. The Emissaries were met with trepidation at first; the Dwarves, humbled by their defeat at the hands of the humans, were found to be a much more pensive people than the aggressive, violent nation detailed in the sparse scraps of history they had left. The Dwarves, initially wary, found the humans to be of endless interest as they discussed their technology and advances with the underground people. Eventually, after years of trying to coax the Dwarves out of hiding, they once more stepped out into the sunlight. Those who sought the Elves, however, met an entirely more unpleasant fate. Driven by their brutal treatment at the hands of those that shared the world with them, the Elves killed the Humans on sight; More and more came, in pairs, trying to penetrate deep within the woods to the Elvin cities, and one by one each group perished at the hands of the scouts living high in the treetops. The only thing that saved the Elves was the humans Persistence. After many years, and many wasted lives, the scouts, as dictated by the Elvin King Phoen, allowed a group of the Human emissaries through. Though it took the Humans and Dwarves a very long time to convince the Elves of their sincere apologies for their past misdeeds, eventually, the Elves agreed to send a small party away from the forest with the Humans, to assess the world, and the truth in the Humans claims of their races Schism from the world of magic. Returning with tales ringing of truth on their lips, the Elves once more emerged from the Woodland, which since has seen massive deforestation, and grew into human society. The Council Now that both Dwarves and Elves had seen that they no longer had anything to fear from the Humans; the three races decided not to bring magic back to Humanity; they agreed that the Humans, descendants of Darklings as they were, could not be trusted to hold such a gift in good faith; in stead, only a few Humans would be allowed access to the gift, that way its use could be more easily controlled. They also decided that, even if it was the Humans who caused so much trouble in the past, Magic was too dangerous a force to leave unregulated throughout all races. So, elders from all three races established ‘The Council’: A group of elder magi who would keep a vigilant watch over the use of magic, policing those who use it wrongly, and punishing those who break the rules. And so, the world carried on in such a manner to the present day; behind the scenes, the Heroes fought alongside one another to battle back the continuing growth of evil: Until, one wet, cold December evening, a little girl was born two months prematurely, and she would change the world forever.
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* * Hello, how doo. It's been a while since I posted something here, but I have a few things in need of feedback. It's important for me to say that these are not stories, not at the moment...They're a sort of, fact file, about the world of 'Kismet' which I've been taking the time to flesh out before I begin writing its stories. With that in mind, these aren't the most...cohesive of pieces; they're written largely ad-hoc, and are probably full of spelling/grammatical errors the likes of which have never been seen before. Also, 'Kismet' is just a working title; I'm not sure how it sounds as a name, so feedback on that would be trés nice aussi. TL;DR: Sorry for any mistakes, and that these aren't terribly interesting to read * * Magic: Mages in the world are divided up into different “Classes” Sorcerers Sorcerers use Primal Magic; Primal Magic is raw, undiluted magic pulled straight from the Cascade. Offensively, Sorcerers are the most brutally effective spell-casters; they don’t refine their spells, and at the simplest level, throw bolts of sheer arcane energy at their enemies. Even the simplest Primal Magic is very powerful, and would do a great deal more damage than a spell of equal complexity from any of the other schools. Sorcerers are singularly offensive in nature. Sorcerers do not have any defensive spells, and rely on sheer, overwhelming power to defeat their enemies. When they fought in the wars, they would often stand atop wooden towers to get a better view of the battlefield. They would be ringed by Wizards who would maintain defensive spells around them at all times. Mr Crowley is an example of a Dark Sorcerer: Crowley, rather than drawing his power from the Cascade, draws from the endless demonic energy that seeps out of the Pit. He (in a warped parallel of Pixie) is the only one of his kind. Dark Sorcery is much, much more powerful and destructive than its regular counterpart. It also allows for more subtle usage, and for defensive spells to be cast. (‘Dark’ in this case does not equate to ‘Evil’, although Crowley is Evil. Evil Sorcerers do exist, but they’re simply classed as ‘Sorcerers’. Dark Sorcery is an entirely different kind of magic) Wizards Wizards, unlike Sorcerers, use complex spells to dilute and morph their magic. However, like Sorcerers, many of a Wizards spells are offensive in nature. Where a sorcerer would blast down a door, or rain arcane energy down upon an enemy, a wizard might use magic to manipulate the moisture in the air to drown his foe, or play with the metals in the doors lock to open it. Wizardry is the brains of magic, where Sorcery is the brawn. Wizardry is a much more accessible form of magic; anyone with magical potential can become a wizard (even if they can’t become a very powerful one) where Sorcery requires a person to be powerful enough to tap directly into the energy of the Cascade. Wizardry does not use energy directly from the Cascade, rather, it uses the energy that filters down from the cascade, and saturates the world. Dark Mages Dark Mages are particularly nasty characters. While their name is often used as a blanket term for any magician who has fallen into evil ways; true Dark Mages are a breed unto themselves. Dark Mages use a corrupted form of light magic that, rather than heals and protects, harms the intended target. Offensively, Dark Magic is very powerful, but it’s in a much subtler way than Sorcery. Dark Mages focus entirely on detrimental Chants and Rituals. Dark Magic draws a lot of parallels with real-life occultist rituals (Drawing pentagrams, sacrificing animals, using self prepared ‘Chants’) Dark Magic uses Curses and Hexes to impair its foes. It rarely deals direct damage to an enemy, rather, it works on destroying an opponents mental and physical capabilities, making it easier for others to dispatch them. Dark Mages are very common; but it’s incredibly rare to find one of a high degree of power, due to the fact that Dark Mages tend to be very secretive about their practices, and would never take on apprentices or students to pass on their knowledge. It’s also a very instinctive form of magic, and there are very few precedents for aspiring Dark Mages to learn from. (For example, Chants tend to be hastily crafted, made up incantations) Light Mages Light magic is the direct opposite of Dark Magic; it focuses on Healing and protecting your allies. Light Mages come from all walks of life, and do not necessarily have to have good intentions. There are Light Mages on the side of Evil as well. Light magic is a very old discipline of magic, it uses chants and incantations to provide allies protection from magical and physical attacks, and to knit together wounds. It is a primarily defensive form of magic. Light mages, like Dark mages, are very common; but unlike Dark Mages, light mages (Who tend to work towards the good of their people, Good or Evil) are happy to share their secrets of their prowess with other, lesser Light Mages to help them master the craft. Light Magic is not as individual as Dark Magic, it’s a lot more structured, and takes a lot more learning. Witches Witches are the Naturalists of the world; they tend to be quite rare, in that it takes a special kind of person to take up a position of complete Neutrality towards the war between Good and Evil. Witches tend to live for a very long time, alone, in the wilderness. As a consequence, most accomplished Witches tend to be quite mad. Witchcraft is the least understood form of magic; Rather than draw magical energy from the Cadence directly (like Sorcerers) from the Cadence indirectly (like Wizards and Dark/Light Mages) or from the Pit (like Mr Crowley), Witches draw their magic directly from the earth, and the creatures that live within it. As such, their magic is extremely unpredictable, as is the power they possess. No two Witches will have the same power, and no two will cast her spells in the same way. There are very few truly powerful Witches in the world, but those that do exist must be treated with extreme caution. Also, Witchcraft is not an exclusively female art; but most Witches are female, as women have a better understanding of the practical natures of the world. Most Witches are mild mannered women (or men) who have minor powers not dissimilar to that of lower ranked Dark and Light Mages. They combine healing powers with the ability to curse or hex people. More powerful Witches may have powers of far-sight (The ability to see into the future), control over animals, further enhanced healing/cursing abilities, the ability to shape-shift, changing the weather, seeing the past history of a person or object or controlling the ebb and flow of nature. PAR EXAMPLÉ: The Witch of the Sea, was a woman who felt spurned when Pixie turned her away, so she summoned the power of the ocean and created a massive tidal wave, which she pointed towards pixie and left to ride. Witches can be extremely powerful. Binders/Necromancers Binders and Necromancers are almost one in the same, and the magic they use is very similar, so I felt I could lump them into the one category. The world is built on a planar system: our world being only one of many worlds, or ‘Planes’ that exist within the one space. (It basically goes; from top to bottom: Cestus, The Material Planes, and The Pit). The Material Planes, of which our Universe is one, contains worlds filled with an assortment of bizarre creatures. These are the Primary interest of Binders. Binders are summoners, of a sort. They tap into the cadence and using its energy pull a creature through from one world into another and bind it there. Their power affects how long the creatures remain bound in our world, before they fade away and return to their own. Binders also have another role; they serve as extremely potent magical Gaolers, using their binding powers not on creatures from other worlds, but on their enemies in our world. Binders are very common, although, powerful ones (as with most other disciplines) are rare. Powerful binders can cause untold destruction, perhaps even more than sorcerers; most other worlds have not lost their true Cadence, and so the creatures there grow to be much, much more powerful than those here. With that in mind, Binders have to be very careful when summoning things from other realms, so that they don’t summon a creature who is too powerfully magical, and who might cause more destruction than the Binder wishes. Binders have to constantly battle with their summoned creatures, as they tend not to be friendly. The Binders battle for control of the creatures mind. If they were to loose control of the creature, they would have to dissipate their bindings and return the creature to its own world; otherwise it may turn on the Binder and kill him. Necromancers follow a very similar path to Binders, but rather than bind creatures from another world into this one, they opt for a much simpler path; they bind Spirits from this world into the corpses of dead men and women. This, naturally, requires much less energy, but the undead minions are not as powerful as the bound creatures. Necromancers may also create their own, false Spirits. These fake Spirits are much more powerful than regular Spirits, and have no desire to leave the corpse they are bound too (due to their lack of free will), thusly, Minions created using Fake Spirits can fight harder, and longer than those created with naturally occurring spirits (However, they take much more time and effort to create, on the Necromancers part). Minions created using fake minions are called ‘Soulless’. Necromancers may also create creatures called “Homunculi”. These soulless minions are base creatures made up from the body parts of other People/Animals. Homunculi are usually small, insignificant creatures who are created to do menial tasks for the benefit of the Necromancer. They are often created with good fine motor control, allowing them to perform more complex tasks than a shambling corpse could. Necromancers do not have to do constant battle with the spirits they bind, consequently, they are free to do other things whilst their minions work on; this leaves them time to be more physically powerful (they have time to train their bodies, as they don’t need to use their mind as much). Powerful Necromancers may also control the minds of lesser, sentient undead creatures; Vampires, Ghouls, Banshees and the like. A powerful Necromancer will reinforce the ranks of their Undead army with these powerful allies. The pinnacle of the necromantic art is Lichdom. A necromancer who strips his soul away from his spirit and places it within a Phylactery (Or ‘Soul Box’) letting his Sprit live on in his dying body, whilst his soul is safe within its separate container. Whilst the Lich’s Phylactery is intact, he cannot be killed. His spirit, kept bound to the earth and sentient by the continued existence of his soul, will go on to find another host body if its own is destroyed. Liches are very powerful and dangerous opponents; there have only ever been a handful known to have existed. It is thought that, perhaps, Mr Crowley is the oldest Lich in the world, a Necromancer from before even Pixies birth who has learned to use other magical disciplines in his extended life
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