[ Rp | 5/5 Full ] Androzaan: Ghostcallings

Bump. Oh, and @LuckyPatch your spot may be vitiated if you are too late.

 

what the fuck Onas has mass appeal now? no like actually what the fuck i didnt realize Onas was the ryan gosling of towns????

 

How many people have chosen it?

 

2/5 but only 4 have submitted yet so possibly 3/5???

 

I think you bringing this up helps a bit in those odds

 

@H0Y0Y0Y0Y0Y0B0Y @Tsuneko @Noximilien @LuckyPatch @BlueSlimerino, Thank you all so much for your applications and for contributing! The RP will start shortly

H0Y0Y0Y0Y0Y0B0Y - Darian Vangoth, Onas
Tsuneko - Layla Lacovara, Orsten Da territories
Noximilien - Aram o'Hikam, Onas
BlueSlimerino - Venkalth Barlow, Mallakar
LuckyPatch - Nisshoku, Karko

 

Time to guess who's male and female.
H0Y - Male
Nox - Male
Blue - Male
Lucky - ... male?
I hope one of my guesses are wrong, this is terrible lopsided.

 

Yep


Wait skeletons can have dicks right?

 

I'm way too terrible at playing female characters.

 

BONEr

Have you ever played a female actually? >.>
I haven't been on the forums as long as you so idk. xd

 

No, but it's one of those things i know i'd suck at

 

Guys this is taking much longer than I thought seriously I was writing until 1:20 this morning.

 

My character is made out of the edginess I absorbed from roblox

 

i think at most one person was gender ambiguous but i dont think so

________________________________

also theres going to be a lot of writing inequality youre welcome @H0Y0Y0Y0Y0Y0B0Y

________________________________

you have nearly 2 full pages of writing in the first thing

 

...

 

sorry i forgot i was too busy writing someone else at the time and forgot about Layla im sorry i promise youll get to slaughter people with maelstroms

 

Oh frick a wind user they can outrange

 

the entire sky*

 

Spoiler: Foreword

this took me two full days to write, it's currently 4:48 AM in the morning and ive been spending the past 3 hours writing. hopefully y'all enjoy

Darian - Andro - @H0Y0Y0Y0Y0Y0B0Y

Venkalth - Orbijan - @BlueSlimerino

Layla - Noxkii - @Tsuneko

Aram - Malak @Noximilien

Nisshoku - Rakatok @LuckyPatch



ANDROZAAN: A Quick Chat with God


(RECOMMENDED THAT YOU READ ALL STORIES AS THEY ARE ALL SIGNIFICANT)

Spoiler: DARIAN VANGOTH

Darian had just seen something he was not supposed to. He definitely was not supposed to. Or maybe not. He had heard about it before, but this was something new. He felt his body leaving his spirit, projecting onto every layer, plane, and part of reality, and every layer, plane, and part of reality projecting back onto him. A dream. A cloudy place. Nothing seemed fully solid. Churning towers of clouds, walls of fluffy, white glass. This ethereal place seemed to be shifting through different phases of reality and time. Light red, pinkish light glowed from within the clouds. Red lightning crackled in arcs. The entire place was like a gigantic cavern, stretching on forever. And yet, in the center of it all, something truly awe-inspiring. The floors and ceiling bent towards the center, in two gigantic columns, almost connecting at the center but not quite. And in that empty space, the brightest light in the universe. The Soul Forge. No matter where you were born, this is where you were born. No matter to whom you were born, this was your mother. No matter who you were, this was your heritage. From here came all life. From here came all souls, three parts bound by the Greater Soul. Will, the strength of heroes and the minds of the wise, Lesser Soul, the personality and love, Body, the temple and vessel. These three components create Soul. All are recycled endlessly. Will is reforged and given life in new beings, the same as Lesser Soul, and as body decomposes, it breathes new life back into the earth. And the Binding, made from the Chains of Karma, permeates everything. Without it, no order, no structure, no magic, nothing. Against his will, some force snapped his head to another view. A giant factory. From it flowed endless energy. Gears groaned, powered by soul energy, wheels turned. The Soul Forge is not alone in the creations of the Aetherium. An extension of it are the wheels of fate, where bodies and destinies alike are forged and given into the world. To understand it was impossible. It’s calculations were so precise, so perfect, so logical that nobody dared question it. It was so complex, so intricate, that no mind, mortal or divine had ever truly conquered its mysteries. So complex, in fact, that it is thought of to have a mind of its own. So vast in size that it could not be mapped. Andro may well be god of time and fate, but it is thanks to the Wheels of Fate that such things even exist. It is thought that the existence of the Wheels of Fate supersedes all others, that nothing could defy it, as it was, in a sense everything. A place, a time, a universe, a fate older than everything else by orders of magnitude. This was a sacred place. A hallowed place. Too much for his mortal eyes.

Within Darian’s head was a voice,

‘Come. Come closer, my child.’ It beckoned, smooth and dark. Every word echoed like a giant cavern. It had no body. It was non-corporeal, and yet Darian knew what it meant. Without thinking, putting one foot in front of the other, he walked towards the Wheels. He seemed to be getting no closer. He was definitively going forward, and yet it seemed that the laws of space seemed to break down, not allowed him to get closer.

‘Oh! Right, yes, that, I forgot!’ said the voice again. Darian heard the snap of fingers. Whos fingers? He couldn’t tell.

He felt a gentle tingling sensation travel up from his feet to his head. Warm. A familiar glow. He now had some sort of golden aura about him. He rubbed his eyes, and when he opened them, he saw anew. Like going a lifetime without proper lenses, and finally putting on the proper prescription. He no longer needed to walk. He willed it, and so his feet lifted from the ground, and he flew forwards.

After flying, he found himself at the base of this monument. Beside him, a new being flickered, with the same golden aura. Dark, messy, and moderately long hair. Green eyes. Bronze skin. He spoke, and with the same voice.

“Do you know who I am?” he asked,

“No, no I don’t.” Darian replied, creeped out and scared,

“Well, do you know who Korin Orbljak is?” the stranger asked,

“Um, I think so. If I recall correctly, the last known avatar of Andro? He went missing in year 12 of the 4th era in the Orsten Da territories, right?” Darian said,

“Correct. Do you know who Eitri Sundar was?” asked the stranger,

“The last avatar of Andro before Korin Orbljak, right?” said Darian,

“Yes, yes, true. Do you know who I am now?” said the stranger,

“No, again, I don’t.” replied Darian,

“Who is god of time? God of gods? God of all things under creation? God of the greatest leaders and heroes?” said the stranger, voice booming. Underneath his soft green eyes glowing a seething red light.

“Andro! Andro, sir!” said Darian, weak, cowering, afraid of the stranger.

The stranger projected himself to easily one hundred times his height. His voice was louder than the clap of thunder, the ground before him trembling and shaking. His form shifted in and out of existence, his eyes burning red with ferocity enough to melt steel, lightning arcing across him.

“AND I ASK YOU ONCE MORE, DO. YOU. KNOW. WHO. I. AM?” the stranger said, his voice powerful enough to knock Darian to the ground.

“Andro! Andro, sir! Andro, god of time, Andro, king of kings, Andro, god of Creation, Andro, god of mighty leaders and heroes! You are Andro the savior!” replied Darian, cowering.

Andro shrunk back down to normal size. Walking over to Darian, still on the ground. He outstretched his hand. Darian grabbed Andro’s hand, and was helped up. A stern look fell across his face.

“And do you know what you are before me?” Andro asked,

“But a humble peasant,” said Darian,

“No. You are second to one. Second to me alone. You are, before me, my champion.” said Andro in response.

The crack of lightning made itself abundant in an instant, followed by the booms and claps of thunder. A storm was brewing on the horizon.

“Do you see that, my champion?” asked Andro,

“Yes.” he said,

“And do you know what it is?” Andro asked,

“No.”

“That is no ordinary storm. That is you. Among other people, admittedly. A great storm is coming. Greater than any before it. And you are a part of it. You see, destiny is not a river to carry us. It is the ocean in which we will drown if we are not prepared. It is the storm that will strike us down with mighty bolts if we do not know. At nearly any other point in time, destiny, fate, time, whatever you wish to call it is solid. Tempered. Fixed. But now, it is fluid, interchangeable, any possibility is equally likely. You will forge a new world, and not alone, but you will forge a new one nonetheless, and make it in your image. This image is not yet complete. Be wary, Darian,” Andro warned. “Farewell.”

His familiar disappeared in a flash.

He woke up in his familiar bed. Snow was still falling outside the window. He was somehow sweating, even in the cold. He remembered everything from the dream. He was in the Aetherium. Soul Forge. Wheels of Fate. Andro. Andro’s champion. He needed water, to think. He reached over for a glass of water on his nightstand. He distinctly felt the cup fall over the edge, but no smash, clank, nothing. He should’ve heard it fall to the floor, but nothing. He illuminated the torch sconce by his bed, and poured light upon the area. The glass was floating in midair, halfway to reaching the floor. The flower on the bedside growed in the blink of an eye, growing from 3 inches to a foot, then wilting, and composting into dirt, then reversing in on itself, reversing all the way back into a seed. Darian willed it so; and in accordance the water flying out of the cup came back to the cup, and the cup reversed back into the table. Andro’s voice boomed in Darian’s head, now fully awake;

“Hearken now, Champion of Andro.”

The map on the table at the far end of the room glowed a bright white, and a brand of three concentric circles appeared on the back of his hand.


[INVESTIGATE THE BRAND]

[INVESTIGATE THE MAP]

Spoiler: LAYLA LACOVARA

Layla Lacovara, one hundred and forty-three years old, former Θaklaan vampire nobility. The atrocities of the Θaklaan Mass Illusion Generator, the travesties of the dark, cruel soul magicks. The Mass Illusion Generator was a large crystal housed with a gargantuan cavern with negative soul charge, and the Θaklaan vampires use soul-shielding wards while dragging in unfortunate victims whose souls are swallowed whole by the malevolent crystal, and kept as fuel, as the binding of the three elements of the Greater Soul. All crucial to what was unfolding.

She was on the run. Voices with a familiar raspy hiss.

“Laaaaaaylaaaaa….”, no matter how fast she ran, the voices caught up with her, never fading, never dying, omnipresent before her. Watchful eyes were everywhere in the rainforest. The trees. Behind the bushes. In the skies. On the ground. From mountaintops. She was sent out to retrieve berries. A simple task, but she didn’t have her disguise. She had left the Θaklaan after witnessing the atrocities committed by their accordance. And now, coming from a pure, noble, and powerful bloodline, she was being hunted by every Θaklaan simultaneously, a danger to all around her, but the Shanjin tribe was kind enough to offer her refuge.

It rained in dark torrents, obscuring the moons far above, the howling of dangerous animals on these cliffs was apparent, the howls of snow wolves, the pitter-patter walking of leopards, and the roar of mountain lions. Twisty mountain paths led through the Jiig’an Pass, bathed in snow and ice. Footsteps were trailing not far behind her, not thinking, she ran faster. Without seeing it, she ran into a particularly low archway. Cowering in pain, trickles of blood ran down from her head. And in an extraordinary feat, like nothing she had ever done before, she roared with power, channeled through pain, strength coursing through her veins. Though she could not see it, a golden aura was about her. She looked up, and saw the nearest peak had a secluded area at the top, and was on the path directly ahead. Even if it wasn’t safe, it was still an area that was easier for a single person to get through than a small militia. Strange. She could’ve sworn that path wasn’t there last time. Clouds funneled into a focal point above her, and she heard the unmistakable boom of thunder.

Running through windy mountain paths, the voices never faded, never ceased, never died.

“Laaaaaaaylaaaaa…..”,

Panicked, she switched courses into a secluded cavern. Alone and afraid yet again, she scanned her surroundings for further shelter. There was a tunnel directly ahead that seemed to lead to either another chamber or a crevice hidden in the mountain passes. Regardless, it would likely be safer. As she made her way through the tunnel, a stalagmite grazed and cut her calf. Wincing in pain, she quickly bandaged and made her way through.

Seeing the light at the end of the passage, it became apparent what it was. A mountain shrine. The features were covered in equal parts dust, snow, ice, and moss. In the center was a pedestal on which stood a statue, with only a helmet and simple wrappings. On the center of the pedestal’s sides were a helmet carved in, surrounded with some ancient Androzaanika prayer, and at the statue’s feet was a bowl of water. Seeing the chance to wash her wound, she dipped her hand in the frigid water which burned against her skin, and rubbed against the gashes on her head and calf. Needing more, she dipped back in. Before her nail was fully in, a voice echoed across the hidden grove;

“THE SACRIFICIAL SEAL HAS BEEN BROKEN.”

The statues eyes glowed, and it sprung to life, about eight feet tall, and jumped off the pedestal. Thunder boomed far above. The statue stretched its hand upwards, and as if on cue, lightning struck its hands. His hand stenched of ozone, and arcs of lightning flew across his hand. Pointing his hand downwards now at the rock above the passage I had used to get in, he redirected the lightning. BOOM. Half a mountain peak shattered in front of my eyes.

“There, it was obstructing the view. Apologies for not being here in person.” said the statue, turning to face Layla.

“What’s happening? Who are you? What did you just do?!” she asked, frightened,

“The end of the world, Noxkii, and mass destruction, respectively,” answered the statue, hovering above the ground, “As I said, apologies for not being here in person. It’s hard to physically manifest what with Andro closing off the heavens. Everybody knows he doesn’t follow his own rules, though.”

“Wait, the god Noxkii? Really?” asked Layla, incredulous,

“Yes, yes, I get that every time. Well, the statue isn’t me, I’m just inhabiting it for now. As you technically summoned me with the blood you put back into the water, I’m here, and, unofficially, for something else.” said the statue, speaking with the voice of Noxkii,

“What else?” inquired Layla,

“Do you know who Karnajj Shinn was?” retaliated the statue,

“The last Avatar of Noxkii - I mean, your last Avatar.” said Layla,

“Yes, yes, very good. I knew you were a smart one.” gleefully replied the statue, “Now, do you know where he was crowned my Champion?”

“No, no, I don’t.” Layla said,

“Yeah, yeah, typical. Nobody does. Hundreds - or was it thousands? I forget - of years ago, this was my most holy shrine. Every year, a different vampire tribe would bring their nominee to stand in my place on that pedestal,” he said, pointing at the pedestal he was standing on minutes ago, “If they were worthy, the entire audience would watch me shower them in my eternal glory, or smite them and their souls simultaneously.”

“Ok, what does this have to do with me?” Layla asked, entirely lost,

“Well, I’ve had hundreds of years of being abandoned. No one has stood there besides me for centuries. Just for fun-” the statue winked “-take a stand.”

She was wise not to disobey the word of a god. She climbed onto the pedestal, striking the same position as the statue before her. The sky rumbled in approval. A golden aura glowed about the statue. Essence transfer. Now she realized what was happening. A golden aura was now about her, and she felt a gentle tingling sensation travel from her feet to her head. Warm. A familiar glow.

“Congratulations” said the statue, “And one more thing: do you remember the small matter of the militias chasing you?”

And as if on cue, a group of soldiers appeared in three passages.

“I’ll take care of these two.” said the statue. He put his fingers on his mouth and whistled. Instantly, two monstrous bolts of lightning came down at once and smited them both.

“And them, you can deal with.” the statue pointed at the remaining group, and snapped his fingers. They immediately dropped their weapons, and were held by choke in the air.

“Test your new powers on them. You should have the ability to summon a small storm by now.”

Layla outstretched her arm, and sure enough, a small, but turbulent maelstrom of lightning flew down from the sky, striking them all dead in midair.

“Most impressive,” said the statue, “Hearken now, Champion of Noxkii.”

Immediately, the brand of a helmet burned itself onto the back of her hand.


She stepped down from the pedestal, which promptly collapsed in on itself into nothingness, and where it was, a portal was now inlaid in the ground.


[INVESTIGATE THE PORTAL]

[RETURN TO TRIBE]

Spoiler: ARAM O’HIKA

Aram was a simple man. Well, maybe not so simple. Skilled, to be sure. Banished from Onas at 17. Accused of dark magic. Now surviving on the trade of common criminals. Quick with a knife. Quicker with a mind. He didn’t care much who he stole from, nobody in Onas was necessarily poor, especially not him just a few months earlier. The third son of the most revered blacksmith alive. When he was accused of necromancy and the dark arts, he denied it, even though he knew he had an aptitude for it. Ever since he was a small child, he had outbursts. He couldn’t control it. His family did their best to hide it. When he was three, his eyes turned midnight black and he had horns for a short while. When he was seven, the family dog came back to life. When he was 14, every object in the home started to float. Why it happened? He didn’t know. It didn’t matter now.

His partner in crime was an inconspicuous urchin. He was a damned good knife thrower, so his plan was to cut the clothes lines from afar on top of the baker’s stall as a disguise for his young partner to steal as much as he could. He blinked three times, making eye contact, then shook his hand. That was the signal for him to throw.

“STOP. DON’T DO IT.” a non-corporeal voice spoke directly into his head. Weird. Probably just some semblance of guilt. Nothing important. He took aim,

“NO, DON’T,” the voice said, louder now. “YOU DON’T WANT TO DO THIS.”

He took aim again, and before he could throw, some invisible hand slammed the right hand (in which he was holding his knife) down onto the cold dirt street. He tried to use his left hand, attempting to dig out the knife from beneath his palm, and the same invisible hand slammed it down. The invisible hands dragged him off into the snow. He woke up in a fog. Or, rather, he was fog. Some kind of astral projection, floating above the main plaza of Onas. Next to him was a woman he had never before met, though her presence was familiar.

“Do you know what you were doing?” asked the stranger,

“Getting food,” he said, “Just like every day.”

“What is the single word for what you were doing? Just one word.” asked the stranger,

“Stealing.” he said, with an intense look of shame across his face,

“And you do know that is illegal? Not just illegal, immoral?”

“Yes, yes, I do. But I need to-”

“Why do you need to?”

“To survive. And for that little boy, he’d have starved to death by now.”

“How self generous - it was never about him. It was about you. But you needed to eat, you would’ve died - so, it’s justified. It was survival.”

“So, then why did you stop me?”

“Oh, how perceptive. I needed a chat before the window closed. My apologies, I’ve been so rude - have we been introduced yet?”

“No, no we haven’t. I’m Ara-”

“Yes, yes, I know. I know it all. I know everything, actually. I’m Malak. Goddess of Life, Birth, Knowledge, and Kindness.”

“Pleasure to meet you?”

“Pleasure to meet you. I’ve been watching you for some time now. Do you know what’s unfolding?”

“No, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“The 4th Great Schism. Of course, I would know, but in this period - nothing is knowable. Some great things are about to unfold - as are some terrible things. The gods are convening with their mortal champions as they speak. They do not know of each other’s secret meetings with mortals, but of course, I do.”

“Why are you talking to me? What does this have to do with me?”

“Many things. In many ways, I am Chief of the Pantheon. I am the invisible familial glue. And the greatest heroes will need me, but I cannot help them. I know you wish to escape your lifestyle of crime, so consider this as an opportunity. I, after all, am the ultimate moral authority above all else.”

“Alright then. I accept.”

“Good. Very good.”

A golden aura began to glow about him and Malak. Essence transfer. A brand of a tome was seared onto the back of his hand.

“Hearken now, Champion of Malak.” said Malak.



In his head, the marker of a tomb burned itself into his memory, and Malak summoned an exit, a portal from this ethereal realm.

“Goodbye, for now. This exit will take you wherever you most wish to be.”


[GO TO TOMB]

[GO TO RANDOM PLAYER]

[GO TO PLAYER OF CHOICE]

[GO TO RANDOM CITY]

[GO TO CITY OF CHOICE]

Spoiler: VENKALTH BARLOW

Venkalth was an… interesting man. He was, officially, a “trader”, but he never bothered to tell people beyond that. Mainly, that he traded the souls of the undead as cheap labor for those willing to pay. He was a skilled necromancer by all means. He was below docks in the Mallakar docks. If you knew the right people, you could get to the many - quite literally - underground taverns and black markets - at least, without being slaughtered by hired mercenaries.

He looked to the man at the stool to the left of him.

“Here’s the eighty you ordered. Sixty-thousand, the agreed payment. Now pay up.” said Venkalth. As he said it, he opened up his leather case with eighty glass vials with souls in each of them.

“I would,” said the buyer “But sadly - this is a set up. HANDS IN THE AIR! Venkalth Barlow you’re under arres-”

The air, once lush with warmth and sea salt became frigid instantly. Whispers filled the air.

‘What the hell is that?’ said every bar patron in unison confusement. I rushed out, feeling shivers down my spine, like acupuncture with needles of dry ice. Something felt very wrong. Rising out of the water was an obelisk stretching up hundreds of meters into the air. Ancient words glowed dark red against the black pillar. This one had grown directly through a boat. So many other, smaller obelisks dotted the seascape no boat could leave.

“What the hell have you done??!” asked the ‘buyer’,

“I have no idea what this is, I swear it’s not me doing it!” said Ven

“Do you know who could be doing it?!”

“No, but several of the glowing inscriptions read the name of Rakatok-worldkiller.”

And then the ground shook in the mightiest earthquake, new chasms and ravines opened up on the seabed, and out of them, ethereal faces rising out of the depths as water poured in masses into the newly formed cracks. Entire ships were swallowed by the maw. From the tops of the obelisks shot out beams of red light, which came crashing back down like magically charged mortar fire. Within seconds, the iconic white cliff faces were unrecognizable.

“WE NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE, NOW!!” Ven yelled in the confusion, figuring the safest place was Brap, between Kalak and Karth, west of Karko, and south of Onas, the second seat of power. Quickly thinking, he summoned a mass portal, and jumped in only after taking another look at the mass carnage of everything around him as ghosts filled the air.

As he fell through the portal, he seemed to have entered some kind of half-dream state. An entirely non-corporeal voice spoke to him;

“Hello. Do you have any idea who I am?” said the voice,

“No, I don’t. Who are you?” said Ven

“I have many names. The Clairvoyant Maiden. Enlightened Soothsayer. High Priestess of the Bakan. But to most, I am known as Orbijan.”

“I-i’m so confused..”

“Have you forgotten the gods that govern your life? How disrespectful!”

“No, no, it’s not that. I just don’t know what-”

“I will not insult your intelligence. You were quick to decipher the incantations on the obelisk. It is little known to mortals, but there is a rogue god among us, the Dark God Rakatok-worldkiller. All around the world, the gods have been convening with their new champions. I am no different.”

“So, I’m your Champion?”

“I would hope so. If you like. Your proficiency with magic - though questionable, is impressive, to be sure. With the Aetherium at your command, you have access to the Soul Forge, which you may use to empower your own soul.”

“Wait, does that mea-”

“In addition, you can summon mass illusions, and manipulate the appearance of reality however you wish, and summon objects such as comets from my realm, the Aetherium. Any previous magical abilities you had will be magnified tenfold, and I have bestowed unto you the gift of prophecy. Use these gifts wisely, for though I am not the most formidable fighter, I am in many ways the most powerful of the pantheon.”

“Thank you.”

“It is I who should be indebted to you, for you are fighting on my behalf. Hearken now, Champion of Orbijan.” on the back of his hand was branded a wheel.


You finally exit the space between portals. In front of you, there is a single glowing light, with four lines. Two point to Onas, one keeps shifting, changing, and moving, and one points to Mallakar.


[FOLLOW TO ONAS ONE]

[FOLLOW TO ONAS TWO]

[FOLLOW BACK TO MALLAKAR]

[FOLLOW SHIFTING]

Spoiler: NISSHOKU

The darkness within grew omnipotent. Nisshoku was meditating at length in his chambers. His most recent spoil of war was an ominous red crystal. It was floating off of the ground before him, humming. Thoughts invaded his head. Someone else’s. Something else’s. Something darker. Nisshoku was always a dark man, but this was something new. Something raw. The crystal resonated, speaking to him. His shoulders battle wound was fresh from the day.

“Focus. Focus on the pain. External and internal.”

“There is no peace, it is a lie. Focus on passion, turn it red hot.”

“Stir your emotions into ingots. Your mind is a forge, your heart the flame, melt it into something refined. Use your mental forge, and draw strength from it.”

“Power… power never fades. Through strength, I achieve victory, through victory, fame, fame, power, through power, I will never die.”

Although the crystal was powerful, Nisshoku was stronger. His mental ferocity was that of a thousand suns. He heard a sound like the shattering of glass. Shards of crystal exploded across the room under the force of his mental forge. Now not only was he corrupted, but so was Karko.

“Congratulations, congratulations indeed!” said some bodiless voice “Well done, really. Few could have done that. Now, I have a - how should I put it? Business offer! - Yes, yes! A business offer!”

“Yes? I’m listening.” answered Nisshoku,

“I am Rakatok-worldkiler,” said the voice, “I command nearly every soul that has ever lived, and you are the greatest general on this continent. With our combined skillsets, we could very well take it over. When we are done, you can absorb every soul on the planet, and become immortal.”

“I’d be honoured.” the corruption answered under the guise of Nisshoku,

“And as my right hand, you will be my Champion. Hearken now, Champion of Rakatok!” said Rakatok, and so now a dark aura bound their power through essence transfer. “Now let us hone your abilities! I will guide your hand, and with it, bring from the depths the obelisks that will secure our rightful place upon the Eternal Throne in Mallakar, and shake the earth such that the trapped souls beneath will rise once more, and destroy the living!”

And so an invisible hand guided him in his meditation on power. Slowly, from halfway across Androzaan, he brought forth a mighty volley of enchanted obelisks, shattering the watery earth beneath them, and raised legions of ghosts. The damage was near instantly catastrophic.

And with his victory complete, even from afar, Nisshoku brought himself through portal into the sacred, ancient room that housed the Eternal Throne. No one had dared even set eyes upon it for thousands of years. And now, Nisshoku stands on the ruins of Mallakar “The Eternal City”, basking in the glory of the eternal throne


[WHICH LOCATION TO ATTACK NEXT? DM ME]

 

Bruh, in the apoilers I see where to attack next for someone cus they are last

Darian, confused as hell and scared, was grasping what was going on. He could figure out he was meant to stop something but what? Also he knew he was given powers, something he could not understand quite yet. He also knew this is not just a dream. He felt awake and could think with a clear mind. However, he could think about such things later, as the map seemed important.

________________________________

Aka investigate the map