A frown. "This one does not know, I fear it would require resources we do not have."
Len's face remained impassive as the young Divers skewered. He easily singled out the hundreds of emotions that played out on her face; disbelief, anger, disgust, disappointment. All so apparent, all so easily predicted and accounted for. But Len felt nothing, in fact, he couldn't understand the reason for the Divers display of emotion. Was this not a time to rejoice? Did they not survive and fend off the invasion of thier enemies? Yet, tears began to fall from her eyes, uninvited, unwanted.
Len himself had taken up arms and defended this temporary home. He could still smell the fowl odors permeating the air, they of wreaked of ale, tobacco, and cheap perfume: a combination of stenches that meant his would-be assailants spent their debaucheries lives excessively indulging in immoral pleasures. In quick succession, two arrows ripped through the air and met their individual marks seconds later. He hand no choice but to kill the assailants. No deals were to be made and surrender wasn't an option. Therefore arrows were planted deep within their skulls, despite one using Len's companion as a shield and holding a blade to her throat. His precise aim and agility ensured that she was never in any danger. But before a third or a fourth arrow was given flight, his allies had ended the battle, in one fell swoop, cutting a stone pillar and crushing the enemies advance. Only those who made it through, truly suffered the might of Divers Paradise. That, he did not participate in.
No doubt it was a saddening revelation, but Len held no ties to the place, so he felt nothing as his comrades died, only pity. With a short, unwelcomed sigh, Len rose to his feet to meet the young Diver, griping her shoulder consolingly.
"Fear not my sister, I will not give up on your home. I promise you."
The young Diver nodded sadly, wiping away tears and facing the drown skinned ranger. "Thank you." she sniffed.
"You are welcome, now bring me stone, anything you can find." he commanded. Quickly, the Diver scurried off in search of pebbles and stone. Len let out a relieved breath, in truth, he didn't need her to gather stone, he had all the material he needed right here. He could fix the pillar immediately if he so pleased, but he found such mental games to be fascinating.
Though that would barely work for Loki, since no god has condemned 6 out of 7 sins. No one has ever told "hey, don't drink and eat too much friendo" but in Loki's posts there is gluttony as a sin. This could change with Logos finally tried to place some order around, but right now the kho-definition of sin would basically neutralize it since every single god is a wacko.
Which is why I'm trying to now conceptualize it in a diffrent way. Wrath is no longer the biblical sense of Anger, but fury translated into battle, ones uncontrollable feelings of bloodlust, anger, and wrath that can only be sated by taking a life.
Well, thats the plan anyway. Using sin wasn't exactly my best idea. Maybe Chaos(Vice) would have been a better term.
It sounds (kinda?) reasonable to move a portfolio to a domain, but, man, Sin might not be the best option here if you're looking to claim a domain. It's tricky to define, and not very flexible, especially if you use the old Catholic deadly sins model, which is kind of arbitrary anyway. And in terms of writing, 'sin' as a power base needs a lot of care to avoid inflating divine actions with too much dark edgy content.
My own recommendation would be to focus on what Amartia actually does and wants to do. His themes, basically. Defining Chaos (Sin) as manipulating individualist and hedonistic desires of mortals, like what's happening in Xerxes currently, would be a good step towards working out what other portfolios of Chaos Amartia might want to go for. The deadly sins list is, again, a little out of place without a religious background, so the portfolios should function in their own ways and reasons instead.
For example, moving into Chaos (Wrath) is a nice move because Amartia has had his fair share of angry/violent/passionately determined/vengeful moments and wrath-y powers might fit in to how he plans to use his army. The fact that wrath is in the deadly sin list doesn't really add anything, or even mean much, in the context of Amartia's goals and themes.
tl;dr look for portfolios in the way Amartia functions as a character, not by checking things off a list from an outside source.
I've actually had that problem, trying to separate the religious background noise from the concept. Me getting fed up with the whole thing led to that crazy post a few days ago.
What I've come to realize it's what you just made mention of, and I am finally trying incorporate for the first time in this RP. What I wanted to do with the Portfolio of Wrath, and if possible make it a Domain, was branch into portfolios like; Brutality, Bloodlust, Primal Rage, stuff along those lines. I want to delve deeper into the 'individualist and hedonistic desires' that you mentioned.
Which is also why I'm delving into Wrath first and portraying it physically also.
Would it be possible for Amartía to make a Sin a Domain once he has made onr a Portfolio? Like Wrath for example, theres a plethora of Portfolios that could actually go with that if I could have it as a domain. Same with the other sins.
Sin, The 7 Sins, The Sinner, Pride, Gluttony, Wrath, Envy, Sloth, Lust, Greed 5 MP, Level 4
The stairs before Sin were twisted in a perfect spiral, like a child's slinky toy pulled from each end. Each stair was likely a deep walnut, but with the thick layer of undisturbed dust it was hard to tell. The inner edge was painted antique cream, and when Amartía disturbed the dust layer the paint was quite perfect underneath; no dirt and no flaking or dents. It was as if it was perfect one day and forgotten the next, just like the rest of the world. He let his hand fall on to the grey stone rail, rough in it's ancient charm and placed his weight on the first step. There was no crack or sign of rot, they were as solid as the day they were made. He walked swiftly to the bottom, leaving his footprints behind. The silence was quickly broken by the pounding foot steps of his entourage behind him.
Four Victors followed him on command, curious as to why thier master called to them, and where they were going, each holding a item of interest. They themselves were affected by the Sinosphere, worst of all in some cases. Battles of old replayed over and over in thier minds, the mere thought of men screaming in pain clutching their grievous wounds as bow twangs sent snakes of deaths into the never ending army. Often, they would play out thier desires, slaughtering anyone who attempted to enter Cipher without Sins' permission, giving them slow, painful deaths. The effects could also be visibly seen, there white knuckles grips and ragged breaths evidence of thier self control under Sin' company. The urge to snarl, bite, slice and dice flesh plagued them, but it was a down hill battle, especially in the presence of what lay before them.
Bellow the stairs was a huge chamber, the walls - half naked rock, half smooth stone, a hollow cube of minerals, one way in, and deep underground. In there, on could have no idea how much time had passed or even if it was night or day. It was totally disorientating by design. Given enough time a mortal could forget their own name in there. The isolation in such a large sanctum was total and the stimulation was zero. No sound, no light, no furniture or cloth of any kind.
Not that it mattered though, its only inhabitant lay lifeless on the the cold monolith. It was a woman. Her auburn hair was scattered in multiple places, stained with dried blood; crimson. Her emerald green eyes were wide open, but her jade irises held a sudden sadness. Her clothes, a lime green tunic and some black capers, were bloody. Her body was laid spread eagle.
At that moment, the Victors didn't know how to feel, secretly glad that thier emotions were hidden by thier wraps. Amartía on the other hand, grinned from ear to ear. "Beautiful!" he proclaimed, starting towards the body. The Victors, growing confused, followed Sin, thier hearts pounding in unison with the sudden ethereal beat. With each thump, they could feel thier locked fury fighting to break out, clawing its way out of thier throats.
Sin was silent despite the Victors discomfort, it was to be expected, planned even, he even chuckled at their burning desire to kill; it was what they were made to do. Amartía kneeled to caress the unusually warm forehead of the woman, his eyes full of pride. "I find you so much more alluring like this She'ma." he whispered, knowing full well she could not hear him.
He motioned for a Victor, who quickly stepped forward and offered him a knife, which he wordlessly took. He advanced slowly, the knife in his hand trembling slightly, pointing towards his Sin Heart. The knife met flesh, soft and pudgy, and made a satisfying squish as the tip of the blade sank deep enough to make his victim blanch. He twisted the blade in His hands, all the while sinking it deeper and deeper. Her skin was tearing to shreds as the knife rotated, the sound of her muscles and nerves being gouged growing louder. Then, without warning, Sin jerked it all the way into her back, until the shiny metal had disappeared inside her and the black handle was pushing against her broken skin. He smirked, and pulled the blade out as thick blood flowed freely from the gaping hole in her thigh. The cascade of the girl's life source gushed out in all directions, rainbow colored liquid squirting up all over his silken robe. The sweet tang of blood tingled in his nostrils, and sent the Victors into a frenzy, but they remained in thier place.
Blood oozed down the blade in thick droplets as Amartía motioned for another Victor. A cup of bronze was handed to him, and like taking water from a well, a filled the cup with the abnormal liquid. Unrefined sin bubbled within the blood, active and unchecked. Sin held up the liquid as if he was a scientist observing a test tube. "An unexpected byproduct of perfection." he mused. He tuned to the Victors who squirmed and twitched, also a byproduct of his power. He could feel the Wrath that boiled in thier hearts, the urge to kill rolling off thier skin.
Flashbacks to his most recent fight with Keriss quickly began to resurface. He remembered the rage he felt, the boiling of the cobblestone under his feet, the bubbling of his skin. Abruptly, the gears inside his mind began to turn and whir, a maniacal smile growing on his face with each idea solidifying. "Maybe I'll play with Wrath a little bit more today." he cackled, red mist drifting from the surface of his skin and into the cup. Amartía searched through the cup, absorbing its unwanted qualities; Pride, Sloth, Gluttony, Lust, Greed and Envy, leaving behind Wrath. The thick liquid quickly changed color from motley to cadmium red. To add a little extra strength to the concoction, he flooded the liquid with untamed rage; causing the liquid to boil and froth within the cup, its contents refined pure, Wrath made physical.
Sin nodded in approval of his creation, holding it up for the Victors to see. "Which one of you is brave enough to drink?" For a few moment, none moved, frozen with the fear of the unknown. Just as Amartía was about to give up and force it down thier throats, one stepped forward, the first. Sin licked his lips. "What is your name?" The Victor quickly answered, "Asmod." Amartía grinned, "Asmod, he handed the cup towards the Victor. drink."
Exuding the very pride that picked him for, the young warrior bravely took the warm cup, unwrapped his mask, and downed it without without hesitation. The moment the liquid his his tongue, he screamed, dropping to the floor and spilling what little remained in the cup. His throat scorched as the liquid entered his stomach and then absorbed into his body. He screamed desperately for mercy, but the blaze within his innards swallowed his voice and engulfed his body. He was in too much pain to think properly as he convulsed. His body began to warp and grow, his muscles filling with energy, his core filling with power. His body only understood rage, his blood boiled with fury as he was made wrath real. Bubbles and boils formed on his body, popping and reveling red skin underneath. Just as his mind yielded to the fury, one tracking as to kill or be killed, so did his body, which adapted to his unquenchable primal rage. Skin melted off his body, and what remained underneath hardened and thickened, teeth and nails sharpened to a long and nasty points; his jaw seemingly unhinged and dropped, molten-like liquid leaking from his mouth; muscle and bone warped and grew on his shoulders, bulging and withering and without warning, whole arms broke from the skin, red liquid pouring from thier newly formed and broken skin; horns sprouted out of his forehead, curving upwards into the air.
Just as quickly was it began, it all ended. Asmod stilled, and only his rasping breath gave evidence to his still living. Minutes passed, and no one moved, even Sin seemed to be confused. Just as a Victor stepped forward to voice his concern, Asmod rose to his feet, his crimson eyes wide and unblinking, his new hulking height on display. What stood before them now was no longer human, his very essence brutality, anger distilled into a single, towering form of sinew. His skin was now a deep red similar to that of encrusted blood.
Amartía gazed down at the Victors whitened hair and burning red eyes, and his chest swelled with pride.
"Truly magnificent!" Sin murmured to himself.
Asmod himself could not describe the power, the entity that ran through him. He was consumed by an increasingly uncontrollable feeling of bloodlust, anger, and wrath that could only be sated for a few moments by taking a life. Even as he stood, the urge to rip apart and consume the flesh and blood of his own brothers nipped at him.
Sin smiled, his creation perfect in his eyes. "You have achieved the height of perfection Asmod, you, and soon many other ." he praised. Sin motioned for the other three Victors. "Call to the rest of your brothers and sisters, gather them in my courtyard." he commanded. The Victors, shaken by the ordeal, scurried up the steps. Amartía simply shook head, they too, would soon feel the true pleasures of sin.
***
Underneath the massive shadow of the Cipher, Amartía stood before his congregation of Victors, three-hundred in number. In one hand, that they held weapons of war; swords, spears and knives, weapons they seemingly were born with; in the other, cups of bronze. As was thier custom, silk wraps hid thier face and thick silk robs covered thier bodies; a custom that he planned on changing.
Behind them, sat twenty square acres of the entrancing if formalized beauty of Sin's courtyard, crossed by pathways so convenient that they might have been purposefully designed to lead to the centre of power, his palace. Trees surrounded the pyramid like great armies defending their citadel, thier branches protruding like vines up towards the sky, like a paintbrush. All a product of his creative talent and a testament to his greatness.
Next to Amartía sat his ultimate concoction. In a basin, as tall as his torso, as wide as his height, and made of bronze sat a menacing red liquid. It boiled and popped angrily, paying tribute to his imagination and power. Sin turned to look over the crowd one last time, taking what ever features he could gather from them, as this would be the last time they would ever be imperfect. He would give them the gift of perfection.
"Do you know why you are here, my children?"
They did not answer; only stared at the demi-god standing in front of them. As was to be expected.
"Do you hate me your keeping you from the field of battle?"
Still they did not answer.
"You are here because you have a purpose. A purpose that myself and Fate have carefully crafted. Your purpose is to grow strong enough to kill in my name, and bring the world to its knees."
Suddenly, the atmosphere transformed, becoming one of pure elation, the warm summer air punctuated by whoops and hollers. Sin smiled slyly, despite thier loyalty, catering to thier true desire only served to solidify thier reverence.
Amartía made a grand gesture. "I will bring you closer to fulfilling that purpose! I will bring you closer to perfection, cleansing you of the vomitous countenance that the gods of cursed you with!"
Sin's speech boomed over the crowd, strident and timbre, a cacophony of applause and cheering, whooping, hollering, clapping, palpable excitement buzzing through the charged air, proof of the spontaneous outpouring of emotion.
"Come my sons and daughters, drink from my blood! Slough of your old personalities, and submit yourself to your carnal desire! Accept the power I put into your hands!" he bellowed.
The crowd moved like a multi-headed beast that shared only one brain. Their thoughts were in lock-step as much as their feet. Dozens of cups dipped themselves into his basin, immediately taking the blood into thier mouths. Within moments, howls and whoops of excitement devolved into screams. It echoed through the terraced houses making the origin hard to pin-point. The first cries were undoubtedly terror, but not the shrill cries of a theatre, the cries of one with eyes locked wide and every muscle rigid. The next were of pain, garbling and pitiful. Blood drenched the courtyard as the withering mass of mortals transformed.
Amartía smiled. "Welcome, my little sinlings, my Dagon. It is time to spread this perfection to the rest of our family."
Ear splitting screams, was his only response.
-After Keriss leaves, Sin call for four Victors to enter the basement where She'ma's body, the Sin Heart is being held.
-Amartía, curious about the condition of his Sin Heart, stabs her thigh mercilessly, and siphons sin soaked blood.
-He muses on the Wrath displayed by the Victors as a whole, and has an idea. He refines the sin gumbo and singles out Rage. (1 Might to strengthen, refine and concentrate the Wrath. Might in Chaos(Wrath) is invested.)
-He offers the Victors a drink, and after a few agonizing minutes, a young Victor named Asmod ingests the concentrated sin.
-Asmod undergoes a nasty transformation, his body and mind warping. (2 might used to transform the body of mortals and utilize primal wrath and gives them some extra aesthetics.) (Might in Chaos(Wrath) ia invested.)
-Sin likes what he sees and commands the rest of the Victors to be gathered to undergo the same fate.
-All 300 are gathered and after a moving speech, all ingest the concentrated Wrath and are transformed, and now calls his Victors, Dagon.
- - - - (Personal Details) First Name: Rem Last Name: Vano Age: 31 Sex: Male Home Nation: Part-time resident of Hyznia and a less renowned Diver. Appearance: Rem stands at five feet and nine inches. He's a bronze-skinned man with the build of a field laborer and dark brown hair. He has a solid even plain looking face, squared jaw, large nose and amber colored eyes. His hair is scraggly, long and unkempt and he has a full beard that he shaves just enough to keep it from growing "wizardly". He wears a brown tunic and trousers and a dark green cloak made from thick fibers tightly woven together in layers. Animal fur is stitched into the fringes of his hood and cloak to keep the cold out in location that are particularly vicious. He wears well made boots that he has clearly had for a very long time judging by the wear and scruff on them. Personality: Rem is devoted to his personal research and to the furthering of his mentor's goals. Despite not having a lot of interaction with strangers of late he seems to be rather friendly and helpful. It is very clear that he holds a great deal of information back from those he knows.
Despite the friendly facade Rem is often distant. Spending more meaningful moments with his animal companions and examining flora and fauna than that of comrades around. He treats his companions with the same respect owed to a close friend regardless of their primal and savage demeanor. His mind seems set on growing closer to the beasts and understanding the secrets of No Man's Land before they are ploughed underfoot overzealous settlers. History: Rem's story starts with a man named Haedrig. Haedrig was an old scholar Hyznia who looked into the No Man's Land for secrets of the old world, of a world he thought existed before men shut themselves off from the outside in fear. Secrets he often termed as Whispers. He was a particularly noble and honest man with colleagues and unlike many mages, kept the company of oft-thought savage beasts. Among the higher orders of Hyznia he was counted for a pariah. He was looked down upon for his studies of the wild they tried so hard to keep out of their homes and states, not simply because he studied them but because he desired to grow closer to them. What Haedrig truly considered himself was as a professor of the Arcane Whispers. The Whispers he was so absorbed with are the fine details of the makeup of the living world, not in the artificial creations of the arcane but the naturally formed creatures and phenomena that were out there. The miracles of birth that could naturally create its own arcane current in a tiny body all with the power of a just a woman and seed of man. These things weren't engineered or designed, there was greater purpose and Haedrig wanted to seek it to the finest detail.
Rem was among the few men who believed in Haedrig's theories. The truth rang out to him as clearly as a church bell in a village square. The truth he learned only made him more hungry to find more. Not for power or glory but to understand more than what he was taught by the philosophy of men lazing in a castle. Haedrig was old and he told of stories he had when he was younger. He himself was a diver to learn in the wild. When Rem spoke to the old man of his own desire to go into No Man's Land and continue Haedrig's work, the professor beamed with excitement but pulled him aside to give him an important lesson.
"Know you not why I have no pet or animal with me, Rem?" The elder asked him, eyes brimming with total kindness. "I don't, sir. With how oft you speak of the beasts and their majesty I have wondered such a thing." Rem responded, wondering where Haedrig was leading this. Haedrig lifted his sleeve and pulled off a glove from his right hand. Strapped to his hand were false fingers, the pointer and thumb being the only real ones. "A beast of No Man's Land is always a beast, Rem. You don't tame them. You may grow close to them, you may trust them but they are their own. They will only obey if they trust you, if they love you. Remember Rem, a beast will always be a beast." He flexed the only functioning fingers slightly before placing the glove back on.
Haedrig was a gifted teacher but politics of the arcane orders are harsh and unforgiving. He died in his bed as he lived, happy, but a pariah amongst the order. The higher mages discredited his theories and his works were left in the dust. So Rem, emboldened by a fervor to carry on the work, picked up Haedrig's research where he left it. To hell with the politics of the order. He was going to go deeper to the truth than any man. He would tap into the arcane lifestream and study the whispers of old before they were stamped out by the artificial force crammed into an area by the introduction of a fake arcane node. That was indeed part of the old master's work. He found that the introduction of a huge source of power imbalanced the stability of local wildlife and natural currents. Haedrig's theories only added frustration to the council. ---- After being summoned by the King of Hyznia with Master Sulfrax Lauchlin he was pulled into a building conflict he hoped he wouldn't regret.
Occupation: By definition Rem is a diver. Beyond that he is a personal researcher, explorer and cataloguer.
- - - - (Power Matrix) Primary Focus: Arcane Magical Capabilities: Rem uses many archaic phrases in his spells to help him focus. Many think such methods are outdated to the speed of thought and motion but there is power in words.
Unro Boshoth - Causes the targeted rock, stone or dirt to become fine sand. Causes quicksand when used on an already loosened surface. This is a spell that fundamentally breaks down earthy surfaces. It has little to no effect on enchanted surfaces. Unro Dagoon - Turns a patch of ground into thick, sticky mud that makes traversal difficult. A transmutation spell that is worthless in particularly dry climates without certain requirements met like underground water sources. Ernal Finno - Manipulates the plants in a given area with their inherent arcane power to move quickly in order to obey the will of the user. Snaring, entangling, strangling, etc. With volume and duration come more strain on Rem. Releasing the spell on the plants will leave them in their current position without any further drain from the caster. Read Beasts - A simple term for being able to perceive the intent and thoughts of something. In this case it is that of beasts, simple, carnal or otherwise. With this he can communicate to a certain degree that language doesn't allow and issue a command if the beast isn't inherently evil. Untap Potential - Allows Rem to tap into the latent energy of an allied beast or comrade who has willed their consent to him. An emotional agreement is important to the success of the spell. Linked emotionally and by touch he may transfer his own arcane power into their body or temporarily change the flow of energy in theirs. This allows Rem to repair simple damage done to an arcane system or purposefully stimulate the system to give them a short boost in strength and arcane potency at the cost of the same energy later. They can burn through their arcane power more quickly to enhance strength and potency. Rem's own potential with this comes short of fixing a system shocked by silence. Such a thing is very delicate and trying to resuscitate a silenced system has similar consequences as if you were to defibrillate a man who's heart was already beating weakly. It could wind up causing worse damage. Untap Potential is primarily used to support others and bring out the best in them but on a rare occasion when it is necessary and the risk is worth it he may reverse it between himself and Senna, granting himself some of the beast's power.
Rem's capabilities will improve as the story moves on.
Weapons and Equipment: -Travelling Bag, a simple shoulder bag with ample space to place important belongings and research. -Walking Cane, a long staff of naturally sturdy wood he crafted himself from a part of a very old tree. Despite the age it has a natural arcane current and acts as a useful conductor for his magic. A good way to avoid the use of batteries that may disrupt the specific flows he's looking for. Rem has enchanted it through the use of archaic runes to further augment its durability and allow him to channel arcane bolts through it. Arcane bolts are a standard magic attack known by most novice mages. They are not particularly deadly but provide an important power for self-defense. -Tuning Flute, a peculiar instrument and one of the projects of Haedrig. The tuning flute was designed for the purpose of simple communication and sound mimicry with animals. It can capture certain sounds to be played by simply blowing the whistle. This is the only item of true importance that Rem carries on his person and he guards it closely. It's rather small and hangs around his neck. There are no switches or buttons, it is not science but a work of magic that responds to the users direct use of arcane energy.
Specialties: -Rem Vano is an exceptional problem solver and tactician in tight spaces. When you work with beasts on a regular basis that have the capacity to eviscerate you within seconds this tends to happen. He works very well with others in combat and tends to stay at a medium distance from the fighting. The staff he carries isn't just for walking and with the right output of energy its density grows to be capable of blocking unusual weaponry and striking with an added measure of force. He himself isn't a stranger to a brawl but he's no warrior or destroyer. He moves the world he doesn't wreck it. (At least he tries his best not to.) -Rem meditates on a different level than a ki specialist. It is not about what's inside but what is outside through the mind's eye. He can examine the arcane current running through things, living or otherwise, to take advantage of or research and learn from. These are often the locations of ancient whispers. Haedrig's Arcane Whispers are like the magical DNA of the world that cannot hide their past. He may recover energy more quickly through the exploitation of the land. -Rem has an overly protective companion named Senna. -Rem Vano is familiar with a lot of old languages and ancient runes.
Name: Senna Age: Difficult to determine the specific age but Senna is certainly in the prime of her strength. Sex: Female Species: Ironbristle - A great black creature that most resembles a monstrous version of a cat, normally eight to nine feet in length this beast is covered in thick black bristles, the bristles are springy, sharp and durable. They leave almost no vulnerable spots on the creature's hide. The bristles smooth over when they are calm leaving them sleek and shiny as if they were covered in metal appearing almost statuesque. When they are alert, ready to attack or just threatening you they will often bear the bristles out like hair standing on end. Getting brushed against like this could do quite a lot of damage to someone if they weren't sufficiently clothed or armored. Their teeth and claws are over-enlarged, a natural adaptation to living in a location that requires predators to break through tough armor for their meal. Their bristles can grow back within hours of losing them, popping out of their hide like thick hairs. By using their bristles they can resist a great deal of physical harm but are rather vulnerable to magical attacks, a form of strike they normally don't deal with. Some rare breeds or Ironbristle are poisonous. Their coat feels smooth going one way and sharper than a bed of razors the other. Appearance: A slightly smaller ironbristle, Senna has beautiful gold eyes. Her coat bristles are a jet black, acting as great camouflage in dark places. Personality: Loyal to Rem but has a mean independent streak where she will disappear to scour a new area or wait for Rem outside of settled areas. She is careful of any humanoid that is not Rem and extremely protective of him, to the point that touching him or even getting slightly close to him would warrant a fierce growl. Sounds of the tuning flute are very effective at calming her down when she has become tense but Rem reserves its use as much as possible. He wants her free of any magical influence when possible. History: Senna was one of Rem's first successful attempts to communicate with the wildlife of No Man's Land. She has been by his side even when his comrades and other companions have perished. Magical Capabilities: Through Rem's potential magic the two can be linked on an instinctual level, allowing them to act and hold eachother back based on their feeling and desires and work in unison in combat or other pursuits. Specialties: -Watch the bristles! Touch it the wrong way and you're leaving flesh behind, they're very sharp.
With slight quality of life changes like a standard mage spell. After fighting the Gaians I realized how off set he was. Now I feel like he's just right without being an actual soldier or offensive mage.
This is Len almost exactly in terms of Arcane ability.
Xerxes is doomed to lose, yeah, but Poog has made it clear that Lifprasil fully intends upon uniting Galbar under Alefpira, one way or another. Those who won't join willingly be made to.
Amartía is not finsihed with his preparation. Im actually working on a post now the works off the Sin Heart he created before. The heart wasn't made to just affect the Cosmic Knights (which doesn't anyway) but to lead into some fun with its citizens.
@LokiLeo789 Did you ever mention how many people live in Xerxes? And I think I mentioned this in Mk.I; a worshipper is a genuine worshipper. One who truly believes in their heart of hearts in the given god. One who pretends is not truly a worshipper. Those who live in Xerxes have been warped to such an extent that it is difficult to say if they truly believe or whether that's simply the influence of the time and space they occupy. Likewise for any place that exerts any influence on someone's mental faculties and free will. A place like the Valley of Peace actively forces one to become, well, nice. That doesn't mean they immediately become worshippers of Niciel.
Those who enter or live in New Chronos are physically unable to do harm, but they are mentally entirely free (see: Amartia in Chronos; Corruption of the Victors in Chronos) and so their decision to worship Belvast and Illunabar and the Bard and Vowzra and Belruarc are their own (and obviously, also because it's the religion which developed there over an impossibly long period of time). So, back to what you say, no, simply existing in Xerxes does not make one a worshipper of Sin.
That makes sense. Once this whole Destroy Xexres arc is over and done, I'll better be able to sort through the whols Sin Cult idea I have in my head. The plausuable, none vomit inducing ones. Stuff that would make Jvan proud.
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