gorgenmast

Wholesome

4. Would have been 5 but one time I spray-painted a turtle's shell white and that turtle probably ended up dying from that somehow. That was pretty shitty, even if I was eight years old.

(DELETED)

Did you know that Americans believe that when they die, instead of heaven they go to Burgatory

Daigon's Dream - Heirs of the Dark Lord

Clanging metal reverberated faintly though the stone, heavy footfalls pattering somewhere far above. Somewhere in the citadel's upper reaches the orcs were fighting once again. The sound of the distant skirmish was the first sensation that the devil had registered in a long time indeed. How long was impossible to say, for he had not only lost track of time but all interest in it. There were few things interested him anymore.

The demon Arkhagon laid upon the cold stone floor in pitch blackness. In more hopeful times, this was the deepest hold of Arkhagon Zul, the nexus of power of the once-mighty stronghold. Falling water from the citadel's great dam was harnessed, used to generate arcane energy, and condensed here for use by the master of this place. The arcane conduit that in centuries past crackled with life was now stone cold. For a long time indeed, this place was naught but a great emptiness in the deep.

Arkhagon had laid here for many years in agonized torpor, scarcely moving at all. So still, that a thick blanket of dust had formed over him. He shifted slightly, twitching to hear the sounds of combat somewhere far above. He regarded the orcs fighting in the upper levels with contempt. How foolish could the greenskins be, to spill their blood over this worthless ruin? In the past century, a great earthquake had all but toppled the stronghold's twin spires and severed the conduit running between this chamber and the hydromancy engines. The engines themselves had been torn apart and stolen for their precious metal, as had everything else this citadel had once contained. The tremors had likely broken the dam itself as well. There was nothing left to fight over in Arkhagon Zul, only an imposing ruin for some greenskin warlord to call himself master of.

Perhaps, Arkhagon thought, he was no less foolish than the orcs for remaining here.

He had laid here for many years, ever since returning to Geryon from a twelve-year journey in the Beyond. He had been combing the underworld of Hmegoth, fighting the indigenous demons of that plane and questioning the doomed souls there, asking if they had seen him. But even in the Beyond, Arkhagon's master was nowhere to be found. Daigon, the Dark Lord of Nagath, was nowhere to be found in any of the numerous hells and underworlds.

Ever since the realization that he would never again see his master and only friend, Arkhagon wept and agonized, relegating himself to an enternity of loneliness and misery.

Arkhagon considered - not for the first time - that perhaps it would be better to end himself. After all, there was some small chance that his soul would encounter Daigon's somewhere in the Beyond. And that was slightly more hopeful than laying in the darkness until the end of time. But for the devil lord, ending his own life was easier said than done. Daigon's Gift - the dark ritual in which Arkhagon was transformed from mortal man into a demon - was a powerful blessing indeed. Arkhagon was effectively immortal now, and exceedingly difficult to kill in battle. During Daigon's rise, Arkhagon had once led his master's forces in a the charge across the lava fields of Thagarond. There, he and the vampire thralls he was fighting against broke through a thin spot in the volcanic stone, and fell into a pool of glowing magma. The enemy combatants were instantly incinerated, but Arkhagon was coughed up from a nearby lava vent a fortnight later - encrusted in volcanic glass and horrifically burned - but alive nonetheless. It would take a powerful foe indeed to end his life.

It was then that Arkhagon felt another sensation - the smell of a man. A human? Here? For a time, he was uncertain, but it was not long before the devil lord could confirm the scent. A man was approaching, descending through the rock above. He was silent, but to the devil the air reeked of mortal man. Arkhagon could almost taste the vitriol and ambition in the intruder's very perspiration wafting now through the stagnant air of the dark chamber. Arkhagon was very interested, and rose now from the floor. Years of dust cascaded off of the demon's body as he hungrily sniffed the air. He knew what this interloper was now, for only one kind of man ventures so boldly into a demon's haunt.

Castigati.

Arkhagon felt for the first time in centurires something approaching happiness. He would have his death wish granted soon enough.

Daigon's Dream - Heirs of the Dark Lord

Arkhagon Zul

So great was Justinian's hatred for Daigon that it was not sufficient to slay him on the field of battle. The God King would not be satisfied until all memory of the Dark Lord was erased from Geryon. To this end, the Castigati, the Clerisy's elite demonslayers, have been charged with hunting down all those who served the Dark Lord down to the last demon minor. Centuries after the Fall of Daigon the demonslayers have nearly accomplished their charge and few of the Dark Lord's servants remain. Arkhagon, lieutenant of the Dark Lord, still survives in spite of numerous assaults by demonslayers and assassins. During Daigon's life, Arkhagon was among Daigon's greatest commanders, and after the death of his master Arkhagon gained even greater power. But unlike most of the surviving demons major, Arkhagon has no desire to rebuild the empire that was Nagash in its prime. Instead, Arkhagon devoted all of his efforts to rejoining his master and friend.

Immediately after the Fall of the Dark Lord, Arkhagon redirected his grief into efforts to find Daigon again. Such a powerful being as the Dark Lord, Arkhagon reasoned, was so powerful that death could not be the end. Arkhagon assembled a force of his own and laid claim to the great barrage at the edge of the Sea of Nagash, rechristening the citadel as Arkhagon Zul. His servants entered the very heart of the mighty dam and restored the hydromancy engines built by the Dark Lord's engineers. The momentum of the barrage's falling water was converted into arcane energy that Arkhagon used to travel into the Beyond. Arkhagon spent nearly a century in the void, canvassing a dozen underworlds and hells in search of Daigon's soul. After neglecting his citadel for so long, Arkhagon could no longer draw the energy needed open portals into the void, and his journeys into the Beyond amounted in nothing. The reality that he would never reunite with Daigon finally dawned upon Arkhagon, and grief utterly consumed him.

For a century or two, Arkhagon has languished in a depressive torpor, and the citadel of Arkhagon Zul has deteriorated around him. His host has long abandoned him, and in their absence looters have ransacked the once-mighty citadel. The intricate hydromantic engines have been torn apart - their exotic, enchanted metals melted down to make crude swords and the upper levels of the citadel are occupied now by orc warlords. But as Nagath awakens, so too does the lord of this derelict fortress. And that stimulus that finally rouses Arkhagon would come from the most unlikely of all sources.

Daigon's Dream - Heirs of the Dark Lord

And reassembling our afflicted Powers,
Consult how we may henceforth most offend
Our Enemy, our own loss how repair,
How overcome this dire Calamity,
What reinforcement we may gain from Hope,
If not what resolution from despare.

-Satan, Paradise Lost

---

A ferocious wind tore through the jagged peaks of the Claws. They funneled through the sharp, angular slopes, of the mountains to blow down across the lower slopes and promontories in violent howling gusts. Pebbles and small stones, loosened by the ever-shifting squalls tearing down the peaks, tumbled down sheer cliffs to the talus-covered foothills some dizzying distance below. Ascending such mountains, even under comfortable conditions, would be a formidable undertaking; under such adverse conditions it was nigh-suicidal.

Such adversity failed to give pause to Aurelius Verxilis, armiger of the Order of the Castigati. For Aurelius had lost everything, and his own life had scant meaning anymore. His unshaven, bristly cheeks pressed against the jagged face of the mountainside as he searched for some fissure or ledge in which to place his foot. A tattered cape - once dyed black but now sunbleached a dark gray - flapped furiously in the downdrafts, threatening to tug the Castigate from his precarious footing and send him tumbling to certain death. Aurelius reached out with his right leg and wedged the toe of his boot deep into a cleft in the cliff face. He shoved off with his left leg, leaving the safety of a ledge that he could seize a protuberance in the rock with his left hand and then found haborage for his right hand in another fissure.

Aurelius took a brief moment to catch his breath, and looked up toward his destination. Far above him, his destination was at last in sight: the half-collapsed spires rose into a sky of tempestuous clouds. The remaining half of this mountainside was all that separated the Castigate from the destination he had sought for these past five months. The ruined citadel of Arkhagon Zul was just above him now.

Before continuing the ascent, Aurelius reached around to feel the satchel under his cape, to ensure the reason for this great journey was still in his possession. His fingers ran across the contours of his pack, reaching under the crossbow secured to the outside of the satchel until he could feel the reassuring hard, flat surface of a huge grimoire pressing against the inside of the bag. Contented that it was still with him, the Castigate continued his arduous climb up to Arkhagon Zul. If he discovered that he had lost the great tome, all would truly be lost. Contained within the Demonslayer's pack was the key to the only remaining purpose of his life, the reason that the entire Order had been dispatched to hunt him down.

For in Aurelius' satchel was the Liber Demonica: the spark that would ignite Nagath and set all of Geryon ablaze.

Daigon's Dream - Heirs of the Dark Lord Revival

I've got a new intro post ready to go upon launch in addition to my original post from last thread. Just keep me posted

Fantasy nation rp rebooted

@gorgenmast oh yes please if you know how to make them. I'll wait until more people show interest and then hit you up.

@Kipsateking

Certainly. When you do, just give me a rough idea of what you'd like: style, landmasses, terrain features/biomes, etc. and I will put something together.

Fantasy nation rp rebooted

Lurking. Also, ya'll ni🅱️🅱️as need a map?

Intellectual Colloquialism: A detailed analysis

Vhat if God vas von of us
Just a slav like von of us

messed up society

so 2day i masterbated and left the tissue on the floor bc i forgot 2 clean it up then i came back 3 hours later there were a HUNDRED ANTS all up in the tissue omg wtf so frikken gross dude what is going on in are society wat chemicals r they puttin in are bodys this is messed up af y r they puttin ant chemicals and science in us