Here is my latest let's make @Sarcobite and @Lord Inquisitor Adornable first will come a repost of the OP then after that my latest post. I will include a Link to the first thread on SB where all Threadmarks are the starting basics of Canon but you can go your own way separate from SB from there though look at that thread for stuff you like or are inspired by.
Hello I am Lord of the Rings and here is the start of a new let's make for a fantasy setting that I have a couple basic magic systems for that are quite fun. The rules will be described below and then the first facts.
First Fact: our setting has two main magic systems. The first are called Talents and or Skills. Talents are to put it simply Charles Atlas Super Powers of various kinds. Super human physical attributtes and extraordinary skills that break the limits of belief.
In this world master theifs can hide in plain sight or have a sense of balance so refined they can stand or walk on walls. Soldiers can fight through mortal wounds in peak conditions and a swordsmen can cut with the very air pressure of thier blades or a fighter smashing his foes with the shockwave of his fists projecting raw physical force. Supernatural Talent and super human abilities at various things is a fact of life.
The main empire of humans has gone through a industrialized steam punk revolution. Sharp shooters able to dance through gun fire and able to perform impossible feats of accuracy and agility have become one of the newest and sought after Talents.
Some vassal kingdoms have even thought of rebelling against the Throne with these new armements. A foolish notion as the Empire holds two forces that have ever been thier ultimate weapons. First are the Immortal Titans a sacred order of battle adepts trained to master both Body and Mind. Thier trancendent mastery of flesh is perfected under a draconian conditioning program to transform them into the ultimate living weapon.
They posses knowledge of a secret unified Discipline of murder that gives them a arsenal of brutal Talents to draw on. Every physical or mental power that can come from physical power or sublime skill they know. Thier command over thier bodies are so great they can channel the electricity of thier nerves, unleash the blistering heat held in thier blood, harnnes the vibration of thier hearts to let loose sundering shockwaves of raw sonic force, focus the light that passes through thier eyes into blazing death and more.
Everything that is part of thier Body and Mind from making armor out of bone or using thier own blood into a virtulent acid they can do.
Thier senses are vast and thier instincts honed to the point they act as a source of supernial insight and analytical precgoniation. As can be expected thier physical traits from reaction to raw strength and speed have been pushed to the breaking point even for the superhuman abilities of Talents.
If one manages to surpass thier astonishing durability they can reginerate from the most gruesome of wounds be they dismemberment or burning alive to other even more savage methods. A fully trained Titan is viewed as a divine avatar of death able to slay armies and shatter mountians with thier bare hands.
The oldest sages among them are said to able to spread a plague with thier breath, strike so hard the impact creates a explosion of firey fury and move so fast and with such expert precision that a entire room can be flayed and eviscerated in a singel instant. The victims not seeing the Immortal having moved a inch from where they stood as they collapse to the ground torn apart.
Among other legendary acts of carnage and slaughter.
That being said a Immortal Titan can not drastically change the shape of thier body into something too inhuman and they must always mantain the basic structure of Man even if they can somehow condense the insane muscle mass they have to a athletic but still agile proportinal frame. [Think Caine from Luther Strode or Strode himself as well as Torkio character design and not bulky incredible hulk] . The second main enforcers of the Empire are the Sublime Voice.
Talents of social manipulation and political skill able to make armies lay down thier arms and commit agonising ritual suicide with the force of thier charisma.
The third faction are the Sorcerers of the Aether. Magi versed in the Incantions and Chants of Power that come from the multiple realms of the Beyond. They can with mystic verse and arcane words sing the Songs of Atheric Music that resonate in the Beyond. Able to warp and twist reality with the force of the supernial energies they summon and primordal forces they invoke
There are many schools of Sorcery as thier are many styles of Music. Sorcerers are seen as a rouge element that follow wild passion over the laws of men. They serve others because it is the will of thier spirit and so the Empire's control over them is far less then it is over most of it's subjects.
Finally last but not least there are the Orcs of the Cursed Lands. Occult scholars of blood alchemy and necromorphic augmentation as well as demon forging and other hellish Arts of blood and death.
They are a strange people that the Throne respects out of both fear and respect because of the terrifying abominations and horrific curses they have created. They have offered the use of thier services before and some agents of the Throne have been taught there eldritch crafting.
Okay I added a third magic system. It was a spur of a moment thing
Latest post of that thread coming up next. Also if there is a post of me going on about metaphysics even if it's not threadmarked it's probably high Canon unless later I changed my mind. Later I will compile posts by me into a archive to reference. Also anything by @TheBlueHour is golden
Next we speak of the Magic of the North and the True God of the North, the Hell Father. The Magic of Druids is not the commanding Words of Power spoken by Sorcerers or the conjuring of the Aether woven by their rune encircled hands. It is Magic rooted in blood and bone. A power chaining the pulse of shaking hearts to the ponderous motions of Earth and Sky. A Druid by mutilation of flesh inscribing channels into their very hide, opening themselves up to the thrumming energy running beneath their feet.
The Winds of the North know their will and the iron earth watered with carnage heeds their hand. When the tribes were young and yet to drink the Blood of Dragons they were blind to the forms hidden in the darkness but with their feasting of draconic gore their eyes were opened and they saw the North was wild with things that were of shadow lost in the Dragon's thundering noise.
But there is time later for the Hell-Father. Now is the moment to speak of the Power of Druids. The first thing to understand of the Chants of Druids is they are tied to primal murder, every spell of theirs is a arousing of elemental violence, a howling awakening to bloody fury and black rage. In particular the Sun and the Moon feature as symbols heavy with the grim aspects they call on. It is through the burning
orb that sears it's path from the heavens from dawn to dusk do they invoke flame, a ruinous flame hungering for blood. With their power over the dread inferno they draw through the sun they may rend bone from flesh in steaming strips, skeletons cracking under the molten pressure of the heat building withing. The fire bursting as razor edged knifes cutting fat from skin, grease bubbling as burning blades eviscerate the meat into torn mutilated chunks. Death arising from the very blood of their foes to feast on them. And yet another shaping of solar wrath is into thunderous blasts of roaring flame, spears of murderous dawn light and orbs of screaming brilliance. The light of the fire is bright but red like a angry wound throbs in the flames.
Those struck by it are not burned but devoured, the fire is invested with a cruel malice to rip into the viscera of those embraced by it, pulsating with a animalistic blood lust that drives it beyond mere burning to total ruination consuming the ones caught in its jaws. A tempest can be roused to be sent hurtling as a scathing wave scourging life with vicious sawing winds of soot. Cyclones of hate stripping armies to desiccated husks. Ash flaring to radiant brilliance washing away muscle from tendon and ligament.
There is a dreadful light to a Druid shaded by those flames, it is like a halo of red glowing with a black, fell light covers them, a shroud of reflected gore painting them in lurid colors of gruesome death. That darkness, that terrible day fire of bellowing war is a mark that hangs over them like a stirring thundercloud. A shadow of bloodletting falls over their soul, covers their form and pours down their body as a aura of bloody death. And it is not only ruinous fire that they command. The thunder of the sky is there's to unleash with a air splitting crack. A detonation sundering whatever is struck by it.
Even the strongest of warriors sent hurling as the condesed blunt fury of a storm is cast to smash them. Lighting is made a vicious lash to flail skin into taterred rag or a screaming lance that rends assunder. Wind may be shrouded in convulsing light to envlope prey in it's silken folds as lighting caresses every inch of flesh with searing care. Or the electricity of the nerves can be stiumulated into frenized self destruction, bodies collapsing to slag like melting candel was drizzling down to puddle on the floor. A Druid or Warlock depending on which regional diliact you use can also cultivate in the heart of the the earth deep malice. It is as if they feed the soil thier hatered so the land may grow fierce and terrible. Beasts and plants become warped and monstrous, poison like glimmering wine sluices through the stems of flowers, trees and grass.
Beasts filled with berserk madness but still holding a sharp cunning hunt the foes of the North. The flora turn razor edged with deadly scorn as they activily torment Invaders, harvesting thier organs and bones for nourishment.
To those who walk through the land unwanted it feels as if the grass have become knifes cutting small miserable wounds that are further agonized by harsh pollen that only seems to ground into the wound, making it weep worse. The hate of the woods and grass is a subtile affiar that seemes petty in the miseries it inflicts until you look for a missing scout and find them interwovenly impaled by thorns. They cover and penetrate every inch of them as they hang like a crucified matyr, put on full display so you can see how each barbed hook of those thorns puncutered thier skin and tore into thier internals to anchor in bone, and it is in this moment you understand the full depths of the hatred leveled against you.
When fungus bursts from stomachs and men die laughing from touching a flower as toxins bleach away thier life. That is when you understand you walk through Hell and it will take great pleasure in drawing out your pain. The macbere Cants of the North can raise even the Dead to fight with terrible vengeance as thier bodies swell in strength and fortitude. Shattering thier risen corpses in wanton battle frenzy and the freezing misery of winter can be plannted in men to expand withing, sapping vitality as the cold hand of death slows thier stuttering hearts. As with the other Elements the cold can be shaped into destructive spells and infused into a blistering storm to be let loose as one does a starving hound turned rabid. If this was not enough to rout the Throne the sickely sweet mismia of rot and decay can be ushuered forth.
Hearts can be made to turn vile from the inside out and brains spoil into steaming caludrons of filth. Be it in the form of shaped unleashing's of necrotic taint or letting a true Wind of Death blow forth blight and plague are ever at the ready when the North calls. These are the Powers of the Sun and so now we reach the Moon. When night falls you would think robbed of the bloody glory of a conquering Sun they would be made weaker?
Nay instead Blood warps and twists as the gateway between reality and dreams are cracked, lost in shadows the Druid sheds mortal form to reveal a monster of the blackest pits.
A pressence of raw murder that seethes in the formless shadows, a convulsing non shape of feverish blood-splattered fantasies brought out of horrifying tales to breathe this night. To understand you must not think of the thing that clawed it's way out of the Druid's skin as a creature but more a force, a cthonic embodiment of dread and terror, a living nightmare ever adapting to the darkness that shapes it. It travels through every shadow and will the moon light washing over the night it transformes the Dark into a butcher house. It can disort direction, bend time and leave all caught in the shadows lost.
And this skineles Dread thst hunts them? It is the killing motion, the dying light, the slaying laugh,. What hunts them is death and murder conjoined by shadows into a force that is to Kill. To see the Beast is to be rent, to know it's sound is to be gored. It is a presence locked in a endless state of slaughter. By being Known by it you are beaten and your soul devoured. It is the Hungering for butchery thst will ravange till not even your soul is whole. But the forces of nightmares can only be used at Night so Druids shed this form for mortal flesh at the light of dawn. The last Rites I will speak of are that of the Blood Reaver and minor fury calling.
The form of the Blood Reaver is the most monstrous that can be taken in daylight. It invokes the full wrath of war held by the Sun. It morphs the Druid into a behemoth of muscle and bone, ruinous light engorging thier neigh demonic form with chained death. Brutal power flows through thier limbs as a Aura of Hellish Glory surroundes them. Depending on whst Aspects of Blood are invoked bebe t Inferno, Winter, Thunder or Rot the nature of the Aura changes as they become the center for a malstrom of apocalyptic magic gathering to obliterate everything around them. A mystic storm of primal fury readying to annhilate all caught in it's war path and the beating heart of this cataclysm is the Druid lost to battle madness as thier Aura rages around them and the spell draws closer to bringing about a ruin unlike no other around the Berserker.
First post on the North here.
Sorcery is at it's heart Beauty and Art. There is a reason Incantations are songs and that runes, sigils and other brilliant geometric shapes manfest around the spell crafting of a Sorcerer. The Art of Sorcery is channeling the energies of the Aether through the Words of Power chanted by a magician.
When a Sorcerer weaves the form of the Spell you can see the arcane forces gathering around them and being moulded into the desired spell.
A dizzing array of runes flashing over thier eyes as they paint with the substance of Infinity a form of awesome Power to be cast by thier will. It is tapping into the fundamental structure of reality and then shaping with the melodies of one of the Aspects of the primal Music the direction of the intricate tapestry that composes the Aether. Even the ruinous chaos and discord of the more vile Schools resonates with the Aspects of the Aether. Sorcery no matter how chaotic or wild is interconnected by a celestial cosmic order that binds the Aether as one harmious whole. The crude Rituals of the Orcs however take a crude knife to the flesh of existence and engage in barbaric mutilation.
They sever the veins of Magic and like bloated gluttions drink from the soiled viscera spilling forth from the wound. It is sterile and ugly how they carve the skin of the universe and flay the hide to be made into disgusting broken instruments. To allow the festering rot of the Void, the profane absence of Music to fill them with dreadful white noise. Though the Throne has signed agreements with the Cursed Lands the Imperial Schools hold a scathing contempt for thier endless profanities.
And in the Heathen North of the Dragons and Mystic Sovereigns? Nothing is as more despised then the odor of a Reaver's warped body or the sensation like grimey oil of a Occultist's thoughts. Here is the greatest Congretaton of Schools to be found. Long has the North stood in defiance of the Throne and many are the battle sites where there High King, Sky Father and Dragon Breaker fought the Beast alongside his Queen with Spells that leave Imperial Wizards realing in thunder struck awe and terrible weapons of murderous Power equal to thier brillant craftminship forged by thier dwarfen servents. The North since the dawn of the world has been the home of Dragons, fersome beasts of savage conquest and domination that tower over mountains and devour the energy of the World. Fed by the hidden ley lines that that crisscross the world. They come in many forms from scaled behemoths to ferocious wolfs that stalk the giant forrests. They had a insatiable hunger for power and fought in earth shaking clashes of dread fury to claim dominance over each other. They waged war with warrior tribes who payed homage to their glory. Basking in their adoration the Dragons returned the faith of their worshipers in kind.
They taught them many of the secrets of the Earth and blessed their Shamans with knowledge of herb lore and instructed the warrior tribes how to draw on the power of the Earth in raging torrents tearing bone and warping flesh. Infusing thier blood with monstrous draconic strength. Skin changers, warp spawn and other less pleasant names were given to the Druids of the North. But they payed no mind as they were too busy prospering under the watchful eyes of the Dragons. Dragons are creatures of cruel wrath but they are also beings of burning pride and a desire like a furious tempest to posses their domain absolutely. To own the hearts and souls of their subjects, cultivating joy and contement in them. A Dragon is a supreme ruler and their pride will not allow their kingdom to be anything less then magnificent. Their essence permeates the air and soil, the force of their will invested into every inch of their Domain. To a Dragon there is what is thiers and that which must be taken. The tribes led by warrior mystics painted with the Blood of the God Monsters elaborate tattoos to act as twisting channels that the power of the Earth could run through.
Guided by thier Druids and the all encompasing Will of thier Dragon that clutched tight around thier soul the tribes warred and fought In peace for thousands of years. Or as much peace as can come from a land of furious tyrants that demanded the very grass be ruled by the force of thier will. But this stability would be shattered by the arrival of band of refugees fleeing thier obliterated world that had been unmade by the Aspects of the Apocalypse.
When they came to the North the Dragons in thier rumbling fury demanded they kneel and swear blood oaths to serve them. But the shattered remains of a anciant kingdom would not bow. Led by a cunning young Sorcerer who had survived direct battle with the Old Devils of the Apocalypse the survivors of a planet sundering cataclysm garbed themselves in enchanted spell forged armor made by the Dwarfs to be empowered by thier Sorcery and armed themselves with weapons crafted to slay Demons. Thier leader scarred by the fell Words of the Demons led them in conquest of this new land.
But the Dragons and thier Shamans were lords of the Earth and Storm. The very mountains were chained to the rage of the Dragons and thier armies were vast. Bloodied in age old conflict and made terrible in brutal form by the bond the Druids had forged with the Ley Lines. Unleashed astral storms clashed against primal wrath, thunderous Spells battled with Beasts who breathed disaster and roared calamity. Skin spliiting berserkers wild with bloodlust howled as the sky opened to let loose sundering Incantation, vicious champions of the Earth tested thier brute might against the shining artistery of weapons shaped for ruinous violence.
The war was brief as it was not a conflict for rescources but a contest of raging might to see who was worthy to rule. The Sorcerer made king by the death of his world had challenged the Dragons with bared defiance to prove thier ownership of the North. By elder blood oath sworn to Earth and Sky a vow was made that whoever emerged standing from the rolling chaos to come would be given Dominion of the North. It was a fight to see who's will was greater and among fiery ruin a spear held by a bloody hand was raised and a throat seared by charred soot let out a exultant cry. This was the moment for the first time in history the North as one knelt even the Dragons bowing before the new High King. The tyrannical monsters were collared by the Oath they had sworn, the arrogant Sorcerer had challenged them as one to strike him down and even as a unified tide they had broken before him.
The subjects of the Dragon Breaker cried out for justice, they screamed for the beasts to be slaughtered to the last and thier subjects made to suffer for the hell they had brought them. The new High King though denied thier cry's and with his devious mind plotted how he would interlink the natives of the North to his people. First he knew had to assuage the wounded pride of the Dragons and establish a hiearchy of dominance.
Disguised he went among the tribes that had sent the fell warriors that had slain so many of his kin and learned as much as he could of the nature of these creatures and of those who served them. He understood very quickly Dragons were being of absolute power, unshakable will and immortal conviction. They had a sphere of things that were thier's and therefore the most important, and the rest of the world which could be broken at thier leisure.
The High King traveled to the Domains of the Dragons and facing them boldly told them the new order. He did not try to negotiate with the surly beasts, only dicated with iron authority what was his will. When they struck at him in outrage that he would dare command them!!! The Sorcerer monarach simply blasted them until whimpering they listened in sullen silence to his edicts. He gave each Dragon defined territories and duties, withing the roles given to them he bestowed unlimited power to do as they will with only he and a select others being able to contest them. Thier people were allowed to keep serving them in the furfulment of those responsibilities.
When some of his own people called him a coward for this he crushed them beneath his feet, displaying at all time a consistent foundation of unshakable strength. If he was to rule the North then he had to be hard enough to put off any thoughts of challenge. As long as he maintained a steady exhibition of force and gave the Dragons thier own personal domains to Lord over he could in time merge the North into a realm equal to the vanquished glory of his lost homeland.
Any questions please ask and this is a very basic summary first draft. A more detailed view into all the shit that happened or retcons to make some parts less dumb if they don't work can be done later.
And don't ask how this turned into power metel Sorcerers armoered and armed by dwarfen smiths end up ruling a land of Ley Line fed Kaiju of all kinds of who are revered by Celtic/viking tribes who transform into Kaiju hybrid beast warriors.
Hello I am Lord of the Rings and here is the start of a new let's make for a fantasy setting that I have a couple basic magic systems for that are quite fun. The rules will be described below and then the first facts.
You can post as many facts about the setting as you want.
You can't contradict a fact that another poster has posted but you can expand on what others have said.
If you feel that something is not a good idea to include, you can ask the person who posted it to remove it or edit it.
If someone asks you to remove something you added, you don't have to do so. However, if you want to keep it you should either edit it to fix whatever problem it had or write an explanation to justify its inclusion.
Please do not post spam. Put some effort and thought into your facts before you post them.
You do not have to be completely serous and some silly ideas are fine, but please avoid adding in outright joke posts.
You may not add anything that breaks the setting or does not fit with what has already been posted. For example, if everyone else is only adding stuff to one planet or one galaxy, please don't add in an entire galactic empire that wasn't mentioned before. Obviously everyone will have a different view of what does and does not break this rule, as long as you try to get what you add to fit the rest of the setting it should be fine.
You can't contradict a fact that another poster has posted but you can expand on what others have said.
If you feel that something is not a good idea to include, you can ask the person who posted it to remove it or edit it.
If someone asks you to remove something you added, you don't have to do so. However, if you want to keep it you should either edit it to fix whatever problem it had or write an explanation to justify its inclusion.
Please do not post spam. Put some effort and thought into your facts before you post them.
You do not have to be completely serous and some silly ideas are fine, but please avoid adding in outright joke posts.
You may not add anything that breaks the setting or does not fit with what has already been posted. For example, if everyone else is only adding stuff to one planet or one galaxy, please don't add in an entire galactic empire that wasn't mentioned before. Obviously everyone will have a different view of what does and does not break this rule, as long as you try to get what you add to fit the rest of the setting it should be fine.
First Fact: our setting has two main magic systems. The first are called Talents and or Skills. Talents are to put it simply Charles Atlas Super Powers of various kinds. Super human physical attributtes and extraordinary skills that break the limits of belief.
In this world master theifs can hide in plain sight or have a sense of balance so refined they can stand or walk on walls. Soldiers can fight through mortal wounds in peak conditions and a swordsmen can cut with the very air pressure of thier blades or a fighter smashing his foes with the shockwave of his fists projecting raw physical force. Supernatural Talent and super human abilities at various things is a fact of life.
The main empire of humans has gone through a industrialized steam punk revolution. Sharp shooters able to dance through gun fire and able to perform impossible feats of accuracy and agility have become one of the newest and sought after Talents.
Some vassal kingdoms have even thought of rebelling against the Throne with these new armements. A foolish notion as the Empire holds two forces that have ever been thier ultimate weapons. First are the Immortal Titans a sacred order of battle adepts trained to master both Body and Mind. Thier trancendent mastery of flesh is perfected under a draconian conditioning program to transform them into the ultimate living weapon.
They posses knowledge of a secret unified Discipline of murder that gives them a arsenal of brutal Talents to draw on. Every physical or mental power that can come from physical power or sublime skill they know. Thier command over thier bodies are so great they can channel the electricity of thier nerves, unleash the blistering heat held in thier blood, harnnes the vibration of thier hearts to let loose sundering shockwaves of raw sonic force, focus the light that passes through thier eyes into blazing death and more.
Everything that is part of thier Body and Mind from making armor out of bone or using thier own blood into a virtulent acid they can do.
Thier senses are vast and thier instincts honed to the point they act as a source of supernial insight and analytical precgoniation. As can be expected thier physical traits from reaction to raw strength and speed have been pushed to the breaking point even for the superhuman abilities of Talents.
If one manages to surpass thier astonishing durability they can reginerate from the most gruesome of wounds be they dismemberment or burning alive to other even more savage methods. A fully trained Titan is viewed as a divine avatar of death able to slay armies and shatter mountians with thier bare hands.
The oldest sages among them are said to able to spread a plague with thier breath, strike so hard the impact creates a explosion of firey fury and move so fast and with such expert precision that a entire room can be flayed and eviscerated in a singel instant. The victims not seeing the Immortal having moved a inch from where they stood as they collapse to the ground torn apart.
Among other legendary acts of carnage and slaughter.
That being said a Immortal Titan can not drastically change the shape of thier body into something too inhuman and they must always mantain the basic structure of Man even if they can somehow condense the insane muscle mass they have to a athletic but still agile proportinal frame. [Think Caine from Luther Strode or Strode himself as well as Torkio character design and not bulky incredible hulk] . The second main enforcers of the Empire are the Sublime Voice.
Talents of social manipulation and political skill able to make armies lay down thier arms and commit agonising ritual suicide with the force of thier charisma.
The third faction are the Sorcerers of the Aether. Magi versed in the Incantions and Chants of Power that come from the multiple realms of the Beyond. They can with mystic verse and arcane words sing the Songs of Atheric Music that resonate in the Beyond. Able to warp and twist reality with the force of the supernial energies they summon and primordal forces they invoke
There are many schools of Sorcery as thier are many styles of Music. Sorcerers are seen as a rouge element that follow wild passion over the laws of men. They serve others because it is the will of thier spirit and so the Empire's control over them is far less then it is over most of it's subjects.
Finally last but not least there are the Orcs of the Cursed Lands. Occult scholars of blood alchemy and necromorphic augmentation as well as demon forging and other hellish Arts of blood and death.
They are a strange people that the Throne respects out of both fear and respect because of the terrifying abominations and horrific curses they have created. They have offered the use of thier services before and some agents of the Throne have been taught there eldritch crafting.
Okay I added a third magic system. It was a spur of a moment thing
Latest post of that thread coming up next. Also if there is a post of me going on about metaphysics even if it's not threadmarked it's probably high Canon unless later I changed my mind. Later I will compile posts by me into a archive to reference. Also anything by @TheBlueHour is golden
Next we speak of the Magic of the North and the True God of the North, the Hell Father. The Magic of Druids is not the commanding Words of Power spoken by Sorcerers or the conjuring of the Aether woven by their rune encircled hands. It is Magic rooted in blood and bone. A power chaining the pulse of shaking hearts to the ponderous motions of Earth and Sky. A Druid by mutilation of flesh inscribing channels into their very hide, opening themselves up to the thrumming energy running beneath their feet.
The Winds of the North know their will and the iron earth watered with carnage heeds their hand. When the tribes were young and yet to drink the Blood of Dragons they were blind to the forms hidden in the darkness but with their feasting of draconic gore their eyes were opened and they saw the North was wild with things that were of shadow lost in the Dragon's thundering noise.
But there is time later for the Hell-Father. Now is the moment to speak of the Power of Druids. The first thing to understand of the Chants of Druids is they are tied to primal murder, every spell of theirs is a arousing of elemental violence, a howling awakening to bloody fury and black rage. In particular the Sun and the Moon feature as symbols heavy with the grim aspects they call on. It is through the burning
orb that sears it's path from the heavens from dawn to dusk do they invoke flame, a ruinous flame hungering for blood. With their power over the dread inferno they draw through the sun they may rend bone from flesh in steaming strips, skeletons cracking under the molten pressure of the heat building withing. The fire bursting as razor edged knifes cutting fat from skin, grease bubbling as burning blades eviscerate the meat into torn mutilated chunks. Death arising from the very blood of their foes to feast on them. And yet another shaping of solar wrath is into thunderous blasts of roaring flame, spears of murderous dawn light and orbs of screaming brilliance. The light of the fire is bright but red like a angry wound throbs in the flames.
Those struck by it are not burned but devoured, the fire is invested with a cruel malice to rip into the viscera of those embraced by it, pulsating with a animalistic blood lust that drives it beyond mere burning to total ruination consuming the ones caught in its jaws. A tempest can be roused to be sent hurtling as a scathing wave scourging life with vicious sawing winds of soot. Cyclones of hate stripping armies to desiccated husks. Ash flaring to radiant brilliance washing away muscle from tendon and ligament.
There is a dreadful light to a Druid shaded by those flames, it is like a halo of red glowing with a black, fell light covers them, a shroud of reflected gore painting them in lurid colors of gruesome death. That darkness, that terrible day fire of bellowing war is a mark that hangs over them like a stirring thundercloud. A shadow of bloodletting falls over their soul, covers their form and pours down their body as a aura of bloody death. And it is not only ruinous fire that they command. The thunder of the sky is there's to unleash with a air splitting crack. A detonation sundering whatever is struck by it.
Even the strongest of warriors sent hurling as the condesed blunt fury of a storm is cast to smash them. Lighting is made a vicious lash to flail skin into taterred rag or a screaming lance that rends assunder. Wind may be shrouded in convulsing light to envlope prey in it's silken folds as lighting caresses every inch of flesh with searing care. Or the electricity of the nerves can be stiumulated into frenized self destruction, bodies collapsing to slag like melting candel was drizzling down to puddle on the floor. A Druid or Warlock depending on which regional diliact you use can also cultivate in the heart of the the earth deep malice. It is as if they feed the soil thier hatered so the land may grow fierce and terrible. Beasts and plants become warped and monstrous, poison like glimmering wine sluices through the stems of flowers, trees and grass.
Beasts filled with berserk madness but still holding a sharp cunning hunt the foes of the North. The flora turn razor edged with deadly scorn as they activily torment Invaders, harvesting thier organs and bones for nourishment.
To those who walk through the land unwanted it feels as if the grass have become knifes cutting small miserable wounds that are further agonized by harsh pollen that only seems to ground into the wound, making it weep worse. The hate of the woods and grass is a subtile affiar that seemes petty in the miseries it inflicts until you look for a missing scout and find them interwovenly impaled by thorns. They cover and penetrate every inch of them as they hang like a crucified matyr, put on full display so you can see how each barbed hook of those thorns puncutered thier skin and tore into thier internals to anchor in bone, and it is in this moment you understand the full depths of the hatred leveled against you.
When fungus bursts from stomachs and men die laughing from touching a flower as toxins bleach away thier life. That is when you understand you walk through Hell and it will take great pleasure in drawing out your pain. The macbere Cants of the North can raise even the Dead to fight with terrible vengeance as thier bodies swell in strength and fortitude. Shattering thier risen corpses in wanton battle frenzy and the freezing misery of winter can be plannted in men to expand withing, sapping vitality as the cold hand of death slows thier stuttering hearts. As with the other Elements the cold can be shaped into destructive spells and infused into a blistering storm to be let loose as one does a starving hound turned rabid. If this was not enough to rout the Throne the sickely sweet mismia of rot and decay can be ushuered forth.
Hearts can be made to turn vile from the inside out and brains spoil into steaming caludrons of filth. Be it in the form of shaped unleashing's of necrotic taint or letting a true Wind of Death blow forth blight and plague are ever at the ready when the North calls. These are the Powers of the Sun and so now we reach the Moon. When night falls you would think robbed of the bloody glory of a conquering Sun they would be made weaker?
Nay instead Blood warps and twists as the gateway between reality and dreams are cracked, lost in shadows the Druid sheds mortal form to reveal a monster of the blackest pits.
A pressence of raw murder that seethes in the formless shadows, a convulsing non shape of feverish blood-splattered fantasies brought out of horrifying tales to breathe this night. To understand you must not think of the thing that clawed it's way out of the Druid's skin as a creature but more a force, a cthonic embodiment of dread and terror, a living nightmare ever adapting to the darkness that shapes it. It travels through every shadow and will the moon light washing over the night it transformes the Dark into a butcher house. It can disort direction, bend time and leave all caught in the shadows lost.
And this skineles Dread thst hunts them? It is the killing motion, the dying light, the slaying laugh,. What hunts them is death and murder conjoined by shadows into a force that is to Kill. To see the Beast is to be rent, to know it's sound is to be gored. It is a presence locked in a endless state of slaughter. By being Known by it you are beaten and your soul devoured. It is the Hungering for butchery thst will ravange till not even your soul is whole. But the forces of nightmares can only be used at Night so Druids shed this form for mortal flesh at the light of dawn. The last Rites I will speak of are that of the Blood Reaver and minor fury calling.
The form of the Blood Reaver is the most monstrous that can be taken in daylight. It invokes the full wrath of war held by the Sun. It morphs the Druid into a behemoth of muscle and bone, ruinous light engorging thier neigh demonic form with chained death. Brutal power flows through thier limbs as a Aura of Hellish Glory surroundes them. Depending on whst Aspects of Blood are invoked bebe t Inferno, Winter, Thunder or Rot the nature of the Aura changes as they become the center for a malstrom of apocalyptic magic gathering to obliterate everything around them. A mystic storm of primal fury readying to annhilate all caught in it's war path and the beating heart of this cataclysm is the Druid lost to battle madness as thier Aura rages around them and the spell draws closer to bringing about a ruin unlike no other around the Berserker.
First post on the North here.
Sorcery is at it's heart Beauty and Art. There is a reason Incantations are songs and that runes, sigils and other brilliant geometric shapes manfest around the spell crafting of a Sorcerer. The Art of Sorcery is channeling the energies of the Aether through the Words of Power chanted by a magician.
When a Sorcerer weaves the form of the Spell you can see the arcane forces gathering around them and being moulded into the desired spell.
A dizzing array of runes flashing over thier eyes as they paint with the substance of Infinity a form of awesome Power to be cast by thier will. It is tapping into the fundamental structure of reality and then shaping with the melodies of one of the Aspects of the primal Music the direction of the intricate tapestry that composes the Aether. Even the ruinous chaos and discord of the more vile Schools resonates with the Aspects of the Aether. Sorcery no matter how chaotic or wild is interconnected by a celestial cosmic order that binds the Aether as one harmious whole. The crude Rituals of the Orcs however take a crude knife to the flesh of existence and engage in barbaric mutilation.
They sever the veins of Magic and like bloated gluttions drink from the soiled viscera spilling forth from the wound. It is sterile and ugly how they carve the skin of the universe and flay the hide to be made into disgusting broken instruments. To allow the festering rot of the Void, the profane absence of Music to fill them with dreadful white noise. Though the Throne has signed agreements with the Cursed Lands the Imperial Schools hold a scathing contempt for thier endless profanities.
And in the Heathen North of the Dragons and Mystic Sovereigns? Nothing is as more despised then the odor of a Reaver's warped body or the sensation like grimey oil of a Occultist's thoughts. Here is the greatest Congretaton of Schools to be found. Long has the North stood in defiance of the Throne and many are the battle sites where there High King, Sky Father and Dragon Breaker fought the Beast alongside his Queen with Spells that leave Imperial Wizards realing in thunder struck awe and terrible weapons of murderous Power equal to thier brillant craftminship forged by thier dwarfen servents. The North since the dawn of the world has been the home of Dragons, fersome beasts of savage conquest and domination that tower over mountains and devour the energy of the World. Fed by the hidden ley lines that that crisscross the world. They come in many forms from scaled behemoths to ferocious wolfs that stalk the giant forrests. They had a insatiable hunger for power and fought in earth shaking clashes of dread fury to claim dominance over each other. They waged war with warrior tribes who payed homage to their glory. Basking in their adoration the Dragons returned the faith of their worshipers in kind.
They taught them many of the secrets of the Earth and blessed their Shamans with knowledge of herb lore and instructed the warrior tribes how to draw on the power of the Earth in raging torrents tearing bone and warping flesh. Infusing thier blood with monstrous draconic strength. Skin changers, warp spawn and other less pleasant names were given to the Druids of the North. But they payed no mind as they were too busy prospering under the watchful eyes of the Dragons. Dragons are creatures of cruel wrath but they are also beings of burning pride and a desire like a furious tempest to posses their domain absolutely. To own the hearts and souls of their subjects, cultivating joy and contement in them. A Dragon is a supreme ruler and their pride will not allow their kingdom to be anything less then magnificent. Their essence permeates the air and soil, the force of their will invested into every inch of their Domain. To a Dragon there is what is thiers and that which must be taken. The tribes led by warrior mystics painted with the Blood of the God Monsters elaborate tattoos to act as twisting channels that the power of the Earth could run through.
Guided by thier Druids and the all encompasing Will of thier Dragon that clutched tight around thier soul the tribes warred and fought In peace for thousands of years. Or as much peace as can come from a land of furious tyrants that demanded the very grass be ruled by the force of thier will. But this stability would be shattered by the arrival of band of refugees fleeing thier obliterated world that had been unmade by the Aspects of the Apocalypse.
When they came to the North the Dragons in thier rumbling fury demanded they kneel and swear blood oaths to serve them. But the shattered remains of a anciant kingdom would not bow. Led by a cunning young Sorcerer who had survived direct battle with the Old Devils of the Apocalypse the survivors of a planet sundering cataclysm garbed themselves in enchanted spell forged armor made by the Dwarfs to be empowered by thier Sorcery and armed themselves with weapons crafted to slay Demons. Thier leader scarred by the fell Words of the Demons led them in conquest of this new land.
But the Dragons and thier Shamans were lords of the Earth and Storm. The very mountains were chained to the rage of the Dragons and thier armies were vast. Bloodied in age old conflict and made terrible in brutal form by the bond the Druids had forged with the Ley Lines. Unleashed astral storms clashed against primal wrath, thunderous Spells battled with Beasts who breathed disaster and roared calamity. Skin spliiting berserkers wild with bloodlust howled as the sky opened to let loose sundering Incantation, vicious champions of the Earth tested thier brute might against the shining artistery of weapons shaped for ruinous violence.
The war was brief as it was not a conflict for rescources but a contest of raging might to see who was worthy to rule. The Sorcerer made king by the death of his world had challenged the Dragons with bared defiance to prove thier ownership of the North. By elder blood oath sworn to Earth and Sky a vow was made that whoever emerged standing from the rolling chaos to come would be given Dominion of the North. It was a fight to see who's will was greater and among fiery ruin a spear held by a bloody hand was raised and a throat seared by charred soot let out a exultant cry. This was the moment for the first time in history the North as one knelt even the Dragons bowing before the new High King. The tyrannical monsters were collared by the Oath they had sworn, the arrogant Sorcerer had challenged them as one to strike him down and even as a unified tide they had broken before him.
The subjects of the Dragon Breaker cried out for justice, they screamed for the beasts to be slaughtered to the last and thier subjects made to suffer for the hell they had brought them. The new High King though denied thier cry's and with his devious mind plotted how he would interlink the natives of the North to his people. First he knew had to assuage the wounded pride of the Dragons and establish a hiearchy of dominance.
Disguised he went among the tribes that had sent the fell warriors that had slain so many of his kin and learned as much as he could of the nature of these creatures and of those who served them. He understood very quickly Dragons were being of absolute power, unshakable will and immortal conviction. They had a sphere of things that were thier's and therefore the most important, and the rest of the world which could be broken at thier leisure.
The High King traveled to the Domains of the Dragons and facing them boldly told them the new order. He did not try to negotiate with the surly beasts, only dicated with iron authority what was his will. When they struck at him in outrage that he would dare command them!!! The Sorcerer monarach simply blasted them until whimpering they listened in sullen silence to his edicts. He gave each Dragon defined territories and duties, withing the roles given to them he bestowed unlimited power to do as they will with only he and a select others being able to contest them. Thier people were allowed to keep serving them in the furfulment of those responsibilities.
When some of his own people called him a coward for this he crushed them beneath his feet, displaying at all time a consistent foundation of unshakable strength. If he was to rule the North then he had to be hard enough to put off any thoughts of challenge. As long as he maintained a steady exhibition of force and gave the Dragons thier own personal domains to Lord over he could in time merge the North into a realm equal to the vanquished glory of his lost homeland.
Any questions please ask and this is a very basic summary first draft. A more detailed view into all the shit that happened or retcons to make some parts less dumb if they don't work can be done later.
And don't ask how this turned into power metel Sorcerers armoered and armed by dwarfen smiths end up ruling a land of Ley Line fed Kaiju of all kinds of who are revered by Celtic/viking tribes who transform into Kaiju hybrid beast warriors.
