“You’ve clearly never learnt anything truly worth learning, then.”
The anger and frustration in his face is clearly visible at this, but his emotion then faded into sadness. “Perhaps that’s true. Perhaps even after all this time searching for something worthwhile, I still haven’t found it.”
He smiles. "I have faith you will. But don't pry too deep, else you'll end up like my poor children. Cursed, cast out, forgotten."
“Forgotten schmotten, I don’t need to be remembered. I refuse to believe that the universe would punish me for something as meaningful as this.”
"Mortals have an extraordinary predisposition to humbleness. it never ceases to amaze me. But mark my words, the universe will certainly punish you for learning its secrets. There are many I could share with you now, but in doing so I would be spreading the nothic's curse. I may be a daemon lord, but I cannot do such a thing in good conscience."
“Well, I may not be an immortal but i’m certainly not mortal. I don’t think so at least. And on the mark of you words, I will mark my words that I will discover everything this universe has to offer, and then I will move to the next. Maybe I’ll discover the meaning of life along the way, or maybe i’ll find a cure for this awful headache.”
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
My name’s Gradius, this is my second account :P I love Hollow Knight and I have been on ddb for a while. Come rp with me anytime! It is my purpose. My title that was given to me by Drummer is…SPIRIT OF THE WEST, GUARDIAN OF THE HOLLOWS.
No cost too great. No mind to think. No will to break. No voice to cry suffering. Born of God and Void.
*Im gonna get some sleep, ttyl Nothic it was nice rping w/ you*
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
My name’s Gradius, this is my second account :P I love Hollow Knight and I have been on ddb for a while. Come rp with me anytime! It is my purpose. My title that was given to me by Drummer is…SPIRIT OF THE WEST, GUARDIAN OF THE HOLLOWS.
No cost too great. No mind to think. No will to break. No voice to cry suffering. Born of God and Void.
Out South, thousands of years ago, there was a demonic incursion. There was one entity that became more feared than any paladin, angel, or demon. No one was quite sure what it was, and both sides had their names for it. The Demons called it Shaper, as it would sell them impossibly powerful war beasts in trade for weapons and relics. The Holy Warriors named it Collector, for it would give them items of unspeakable power in trade for the bodies of their dead. A name used by both sides was the Taker, as there was nothing that could sate its greed.
Regardless of its name, the monster was not to be trifled with. They say it could melt flesh and steel like wax, and that not even the demons and angels dared to attack it alone. It was an abomination. Minefields, barbed wire, crosses, magma, regardless of what defenses they put up, it would always arrive in the morning, with deals that could not be refused. They said it was a manifestation of abuse and mindless violence sent by the demons. They said it was a cruel justice without a sense of loyalty sent by the angels.
And when it hadn't been seen for over a thousand years, they said it was a myth.
But a shot was fired on the battlefields recently, long after all the bodies had been taken. Then came the telltale buzzing of flies and grave robbings.
The local government will pay big for anyone to prove or disprove the legendary creature's existence. The Taker must be found at all costs.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
Kazzolan is intrigued by the rumors. Perhaps the Taker would be a worthy companion, one with equal power and with similar endgoals. He decides to ask around and see if anyone’s yet sighted the creature.
Kazzolan is intrigued by the rumors. Perhaps the Taker would be a worthy companion, one with equal power and with similar endgoals. He decides to ask around and see if anyone’s yet sighted the creature.
One adventurer shares his experience. He was checking the fields when he tripped on an old mine. The Taker saved him.
"My leg... it was rotting, gangrenous. I couldn't move for the pain. I lay there for days, but then it just... appeared. It asked me if I would like to make a deal. I couldn't refuse. He has found a sturdy staff and made it into a crutch. All he wanted were two things: my festering leg... and my dog tags. I don't even know how to describe what it looked like. Like a man, but too long. Hunched, but towering. I could hear hundreds of thousands of dog tags jingling under its robes. It wore this helmet... and it smelled like fly honey... I took the deal. It fed me, gave me the crutch, and left."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
Kazzolan is intrigued by the rumors. Perhaps the Taker would be a worthy companion, one with equal power and with similar endgoals. He decides to ask around and see if anyone’s yet sighted the creature.
One adventurer shares his experience. He was checking the fields when he tripped on an old mine. The Taker saved him.
"My leg... it was rotting, gangrenous. I couldn't move for the pain. I lay there for days, but then it just... appeared. It asked me if I would like to make a deal. I couldn't refuse. He has found a sturdy staff and made it into a crutch. All he wanted were two things: my festering leg... and my dog tags. I don't even know how to describe what it looked like. Like a man, but too long. Hunched, but towering. I could hear hundreds of thousands of dog tags jingling under its robes. It wore this helmet... and it smelled like fly honey... I took the deal. It fed me, gave me the crutch, and left."
Kazzolan is intrigued by the rumors. Perhaps the Taker would be a worthy companion, one with equal power and with similar endgoals. He decides to ask around and see if anyone’s yet sighted the creature.
One adventurer shares his experience. He was checking the fields when he tripped on an old mine. The Taker saved him.
"My leg... it was rotting, gangrenous. I couldn't move for the pain. I lay there for days, but then it just... appeared. It asked me if I would like to make a deal. I couldn't refuse. He has found a sturdy staff and made it into a crutch. All he wanted were two things: my festering leg... and my dog tags. I don't even know how to describe what it looked like. Like a man, but too long. Hunched, but towering. I could hear hundreds of thousands of dog tags jingling under its robes. It wore this helmet... and it smelled like fly honey... I took the deal. It fed me, gave me the crutch, and left."
Kazzolan is curious. He asks to see the crutch.
The adventurer shows it, shame on his face. It is crafted of angel bone and ancient steel, scrimshawed with obscure symbols.
Kazzolan knows these symbols. Or more accurately, he remembers them. They were created just before the fall of Netheril. They were meant to protect from the magic that would eventually destroy the country, but they needed to call on a power beyond what they knew how to control. It was never discovered what they had called, as Netheril fell before it could arrive.
The adventurer shows it, shame on his face. It is crafted of angel bone and ancient steel, scrimshawed with obscure symbols.
Kazzolan knows these symbols. Or more accurately, he remembers them. They were created just before the fall of Netheril. They were meant to protect from the magic that would eventually destroy the city, but they needed to call on a power beyond what they knew how to control. It was never discovered what they had called, as Netheril fell before it could arrive.
Kezzolan’s eyes widen. Now fully invested (and more than a little frightened) he takes the crutch and leaves the adventurer behind.
He returns to the 2 Story Tavern, where he sits in contemplation for several hours. He had never expected his own culture to come back to haunt him. Eventually, he decides that he has no further options. He must consult with a more experienced evil. It’s time to talk to Szerucharz — provided the avatar is willing to speak with him, of course.
*I just realized I started misspelling my own character’s name halfway through the RP. Whoops.*
The adventurer shows it, shame on his face. It is crafted of angel bone and ancient steel, scrimshawed with obscure symbols.
Kazzolan knows these symbols. Or more accurately, he remembers them. They were created just before the fall of Netheril. They were meant to protect from the magic that would eventually destroy the city, but they needed to call on a power beyond what they knew how to control. It was never discovered what they had called, as Netheril fell before it could arrive.
Kezzolan’s eyes widen. Now fully invested (and more than a little frightened) he takes the crutch and leaves the adventurer behind.
He returns to the 2 Story Tavern, where he sits in contemplation for several hours. He had never expected his own culture to come back to haunt him. Eventually, he decides that he has no further options. He must consult with a more experienced evil. It’s time to talk to Szerucharz — provided the avatar is willing to speak with him, of course.
*I just realized I started misspelling my own character’s name halfway through the RP. Whoops.*
The avatar keeps its usual paper-thin veneer of civility, but doesn't seem to know anything about the symbols. After all, he is very young for an Elder Evil, despite his dark knowledge. He does give one interesting tidbit: the scrawls are in Necril, a language that Jergal, Scribe of the Dead, used to write in. It is the language of the dead, unsurprisingly. The actual words are... difficult to read. It's like if Lovecraft wrote Bible verses. Words that don't correlate to any language, heavy symbolism, but nothing obviously useful or meaningful.
The most "explainable" passage is something like:
And the depths of the underworld shall bring forth flying spectres and crawling beasts. In their passing the worm grows fat, the vulture weary.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
The avatar keeps its usual paper-thin veneer of civility, but doesn't seem to know anything about the symbols. After all, he is very young for an Elder Evil, despite his dark knowledge. He does give one interesting tidbit: the scrawls are in Necril, a language that Jergal, Scribe of the Dead, used to write in. It is the language of the dead, unsurprisingly. The actual words are... difficult to read. It's like if Lovecraft wrote Bible verses. Words that don't correlate to any language, heavy symbolism, but nothing obviously useful or meaningful.
The most "explainable" passage is something like:
And the depths of the underworld shall bring forth flying spectres and crawling beasts. In their passing the worm grows fat, the vulture weary.
Kezzolan is supremely baffled. He continues researching the language to the best of his ability, but doesn’t expect to get far. From the passage, he theorizes that perhaps the worm represents a being similar to the Taker, and that its natural “predator” had gone extinct and given the creature far more power without any of its former restraints.
He also consults with several of his nothic followers, but even their combined knowledge on arcane secrets fails to yield results on Necril. He considers speaking to a lich, but can’t seem to find any.
Kezzolan is supremely baffled. He continues researching the language to the best of his ability, but doesn’t expect to get far. From the passage, he theorizes that perhaps the worm represents a being similar to the Taker, and that its natural “predator” had gone extinct and given the creature far more power without any of its former restraints.
He also consults with several of his nothic followers, but even their combined knowledge on arcane secrets fails to yield results on Necril. He considers speaking to a lich, but can’t seem to find any.
*That is an awesome theory and I'm stealing it.*
As he returns to his hideout where his nothic followers are gathered, he sees piles of dead flies spelling out a phrase in Necril. Damn it... it knows he's looking for him. If only Kezzolan could read this. Too bad Szerucharz is sleeping off a long night of booze and cannibalism, as usual.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
Kezzolan is beginning to realize just how out of his depth he really is. As his curse prevents him from ever forgetting a secret, he memorizes the writing with only a glance. He has very few choices now. He can continue searching, and possibly delve into the Land of the Dead to find answers, or he can sit and wait for the Taker to come to him. But how? What could possibly tempt such a creature out of its lair?
The answer comes to him surprisingly quickly. He decides to make the Taker a deal it can’t refuse.
That night, Kezzolan does something he’s never once attempted, never even considered for the harm it could cause the world. He takes his prized possession, a spell scroll of wish, and on it he writes his darkest secrets. Secrets of the gods, and those beyond, secrets of creation and unlife and the next life and the next death. Secrets of prophesy, cosmic promises yet to be fulfilled. On this scroll Kezzolan has imbued his essence — every arcane secret ever stolen, every dark truth and terrible confession.
The process costs him seven days and a significant portion of his own sanity, but Kezzolan perseveres. In the end, he completes it. He walks outside and lights a small campfire. His nothic followers gather around him, humming softly, their energy and very souls depleted by their master’s endeavors.
And Kezzolan holds the scroll above the flames and prepares to drop it, he shouts into the dark. “Taker, you greedy fiend, you magnificent horror! I offer you a deal. Come forth, speak to me now, or I will destroy a millennium’s worth of knowledge. You have five hours.”
Kezzolan returns the scroll to his satchel and tends to the fire for the rest of the night.
“Well, I may not be an immortal but i’m certainly not mortal. I don’t think so at least. And on the mark of you words, I will mark my words that I will discover everything this universe has to offer, and then I will move to the next. Maybe I’ll discover the meaning of life along the way, or maybe i’ll find a cure for this awful headache.”
My name’s Gradius, this is my second account :P I love Hollow Knight and I have been on ddb for a while. Come rp with me anytime! It is my purpose. My title that was given to me by Drummer is…SPIRIT OF THE WEST, GUARDIAN OF THE HOLLOWS.
No cost too great. No mind to think. No will to break. No voice to cry suffering. Born of God and Void.
TRON LIVES
He smiles. “Well spoken, friend. I wish you luck on your quest, fruitless as it may be.”
Terra Lubridia archive:
The Bloody Barnacle | The Gut | The Athene Crusader | The Jewel of Atlantis
*Im gonna get some sleep, ttyl Nothic it was nice rping w/ you*
My name’s Gradius, this is my second account :P I love Hollow Knight and I have been on ddb for a while. Come rp with me anytime! It is my purpose. My title that was given to me by Drummer is…SPIRIT OF THE WEST, GUARDIAN OF THE HOLLOWS.
No cost too great. No mind to think. No will to break. No voice to cry suffering. Born of God and Void.
TRON LIVES
*same to you. Sorry for being so inconsistent, taking like 30mins to reply and whatnot. Goodnight!*
Terra Lubridia archive:
The Bloody Barnacle | The Gut | The Athene Crusader | The Jewel of Atlantis
Out South, thousands of years ago, there was a demonic incursion. There was one entity that became more feared than any paladin, angel, or demon. No one was quite sure what it was, and both sides had their names for it. The Demons called it Shaper, as it would sell them impossibly powerful war beasts in trade for weapons and relics. The Holy Warriors named it Collector, for it would give them items of unspeakable power in trade for the bodies of their dead. A name used by both sides was the Taker, as there was nothing that could sate its greed.
Regardless of its name, the monster was not to be trifled with. They say it could melt flesh and steel like wax, and that not even the demons and angels dared to attack it alone. It was an abomination. Minefields, barbed wire, crosses, magma, regardless of what defenses they put up, it would always arrive in the morning, with deals that could not be refused. They said it was a manifestation of abuse and mindless violence sent by the demons. They said it was a cruel justice without a sense of loyalty sent by the angels.
And when it hadn't been seen for over a thousand years, they said it was a myth.
But a shot was fired on the battlefields recently, long after all the bodies had been taken. Then came the telltale buzzing of flies and grave robbings.
The local government will pay big for anyone to prove or disprove the legendary creature's existence. The Taker must be found at all costs.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
Kazzolan is intrigued by the rumors. Perhaps the Taker would be a worthy companion, one with equal power and with similar endgoals. He decides to ask around and see if anyone’s yet sighted the creature.
Terra Lubridia archive:
The Bloody Barnacle | The Gut | The Athene Crusader | The Jewel of Atlantis
One adventurer shares his experience. He was checking the fields when he tripped on an old mine. The Taker saved him.
"My leg... it was rotting, gangrenous. I couldn't move for the pain. I lay there for days, but then it just... appeared. It asked me if I would like to make a deal. I couldn't refuse. He has found a sturdy staff and made it into a crutch. All he wanted were two things: my festering leg... and my dog tags. I don't even know how to describe what it looked like. Like a man, but too long. Hunched, but towering. I could hear hundreds of thousands of dog tags jingling under its robes. It wore this helmet... and it smelled like fly honey... I took the deal. It fed me, gave me the crutch, and left."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
Kazzolan is curious. He asks to see the crutch.
Terra Lubridia archive:
The Bloody Barnacle | The Gut | The Athene Crusader | The Jewel of Atlantis
The adventurer shows it, shame on his face. It is crafted of angel bone and ancient steel, scrimshawed with obscure symbols.
Kazzolan knows these symbols. Or more accurately, he remembers them. They were created just before the fall of Netheril. They were meant to protect from the magic that would eventually destroy the country, but they needed to call on a power beyond what they knew how to control. It was never discovered what they had called, as Netheril fell before it could arrive.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
Kezzolan’s eyes widen. Now fully invested (and more than a little frightened) he takes the crutch and leaves the adventurer behind.
He returns to the 2 Story Tavern, where he sits in contemplation for several hours. He had never expected his own culture to come back to haunt him. Eventually, he decides that he has no further options. He must consult with a more experienced evil. It’s time to talk to Szerucharz — provided the avatar is willing to speak with him, of course.
*I just realized I started misspelling my own character’s name halfway through the RP. Whoops.*
Terra Lubridia archive:
The Bloody Barnacle | The Gut | The Athene Crusader | The Jewel of Atlantis
The avatar keeps its usual paper-thin veneer of civility, but doesn't seem to know anything about the symbols. After all, he is very young for an Elder Evil, despite his dark knowledge. He does give one interesting tidbit: the scrawls are in Necril, a language that Jergal, Scribe of the Dead, used to write in. It is the language of the dead, unsurprisingly. The actual words are... difficult to read. It's like if Lovecraft wrote Bible verses. Words that don't correlate to any language, heavy symbolism, but nothing obviously useful or meaningful.
The most "explainable" passage is something like:
And the depths of the underworld shall bring forth flying spectres and crawling beasts. In their passing the worm grows fat, the vulture weary.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
*By the way, I don't think you appreciate how hard I'm winging this.*
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
Kezzolan is supremely baffled. He continues researching the language to the best of his ability, but doesn’t expect to get far. From the passage, he theorizes that perhaps the worm represents a being similar to the Taker, and that its natural “predator” had gone extinct and given the creature far more power without any of its former restraints.
He also consults with several of his nothic followers, but even their combined knowledge on arcane secrets fails to yield results on Necril. He considers speaking to a lich, but can’t seem to find any.
Terra Lubridia archive:
The Bloody Barnacle | The Gut | The Athene Crusader | The Jewel of Atlantis
*All I know is it’s soooo fun.*
Terra Lubridia archive:
The Bloody Barnacle | The Gut | The Athene Crusader | The Jewel of Atlantis
*That is an awesome theory and I'm stealing it.*
As he returns to his hideout where his nothic followers are gathered, he sees piles of dead flies spelling out a phrase in Necril. Damn it... it knows he's looking for him. If only Kezzolan could read this. Too bad Szerucharz is sleeping off a long night of booze and cannibalism, as usual.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
Kezzolan is beginning to realize just how out of his depth he really is. As his curse prevents him from ever forgetting a secret, he memorizes the writing with only a glance. He has very few choices now. He can continue searching, and possibly delve into the Land of the Dead to find answers, or he can sit and wait for the Taker to come to him. But how? What could possibly tempt such a creature out of its lair?
The answer comes to him surprisingly quickly. He decides to make the Taker a deal it can’t refuse.
That night, Kezzolan does something he’s never once attempted, never even considered for the harm it could cause the world. He takes his prized possession, a spell scroll of wish, and on it he writes his darkest secrets. Secrets of the gods, and those beyond, secrets of creation and unlife and the next life and the next death. Secrets of prophesy, cosmic promises yet to be fulfilled. On this scroll Kezzolan has imbued his essence — every arcane secret ever stolen, every dark truth and terrible confession.
The process costs him seven days and a significant portion of his own sanity, but Kezzolan perseveres. In the end, he completes it. He walks outside and lights a small campfire. His nothic followers gather around him, humming softly, their energy and very souls depleted by their master’s endeavors.
And Kezzolan holds the scroll above the flames and prepares to drop it, he shouts into the dark. “Taker, you greedy fiend, you magnificent horror! I offer you a deal. Come forth, speak to me now, or I will destroy a millennium’s worth of knowledge. You have five hours.”
Kezzolan returns the scroll to his satchel and tends to the fire for the rest of the night.
*I’m gonna go sleep now. See ya tomorrow!*
Terra Lubridia archive:
The Bloody Barnacle | The Gut | The Athene Crusader | The Jewel of Atlantis
*Ok that's so good. Like. Howw do you guys just build off of each other so well*
⌜╔═════════════ The Board ══════════════╗⌝
...and started me on my way into my next chapter in life...
⌞╚════════════ Extended Signature ════════════╝⌟
*Good night, buddy boi! I'll respond in the morning, but I gotta sleep too!*
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
Flint is curled up in a dumpster, fast asleep
A man in his late twenties, with dark hair and a short goatee beard, is walking through the town
🍅 PM me the word 'tomato' 🍅 Extended Signature Musk Sucks, Quit X!
*Hey Dutch! Is that Cato?*
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.