Oraculum

The Hand of Fate

As the unearthly intonation reverberated through its entire form, not quite spreading from the mind as much as seeping in from without through loose ends and edges, the figure froze in place as though spellbound. One of its legs being bent in mid-stride, it appeared as though it might be about to kneel, yet it neither completed its intended movement nor sank down. Instead, it turned its concealed features upwards, as though beckoned by an unseen force, and thrust its arms toward the heavens, fingers poised as though it would clutch the black fabric of the benighted sky. In this position it remained long after the voice's final cryptic command had faded into the void whence it had been issued.

Finally, a stirring of its bag shook it from its stasis. Lowering its arms and plunging its right hand into the uninhabited satchel, the figure at once began to mutter in a whisper so strangely hollow as to convey an impression of being uttered by a disembodied shade, or some creature lurking in distant subterranean halls. "To the east... I have sought far and wide in all the corners of these lands, and naught was there in any of them that would lead to that which I am to find. Nor yet have I encountered any land of rot, or anything which might be worthy of such an epithet..." By the time it had completed this sentence, it had produced from the bag a folded parchment, grown yellow with age and wear and bearing some conspicuous stains of dubious nature. Once unraveled, it was revealed to be a somewhat crudely drawn map of the world as far as it was known to the Kingdom's cartographers, with a number of symbols having been added to it by a foreign hand, presumably that of its owner. The figure threw a glance at the stars, gauging its position by the constellations above it, then thrust a finger in one spot of the map, as though to pinpoint its current whereabouts. It then slowly shifted its gaze toward the right edge, until it reached what seemed to be a blotched black stain upon the parchment; upon closer inspection, however, it could be seen that it was merely a feature of the chart, depicting, with some graphic extravagances, a vast swampy territory.

"The dragon's grave..." the figure muttered. "What I seek cannot be there. Yet there are to be answers... What answers could there lie in such a place, where there are neither living to tell nor dead to show?" It remained silent for a few moments. "It is said it lies at the core of this world, and the roads departing from it are all of equal length. Mayhap it shall be known to me which one I must take." With these words, the figure folded the map and, returning it to the satchel, resumed its march, headed in the direction whence that which had spoken to him had last let itself be heard.

The Hand of Fate

I see no problem whatsoever with the scene you have written. It might be worth mentioning that the voice is inaudible to any save Ultrovos himself, but that is not quite so stringent.

The Hand of Fate

Though there was no cloud to obscure the sky, the night, undefied in its black dominion by anything beyond the pale luminescence of the stars, was as dark as any autumnal celestial pall might have warranted. On such a night, when even the most harmless shrub seems to harbour menaces of subtle danger, the forest, though by day it was no more than solemn with great antiquity, appeared more forbidding than a wind-battered mountain peak jutting over a barren wasteland. Its great oaks spread their mighty limbs at an awe-inducing height, casting vast and strange shadows in what little of the starry glow reached the soil. Their leaves whispered in a soft, warm breeze; muffled replies arose from the undergrowth, as though a host of conspirators were quietly gathering among the towering trees' roots.

Yet the lone figure which was slowly, yet steadily making its way through the woods seemed to pay no heed to this furtive exchange, nor to the oaks' looming shadows, nor to the gentle touch of the wind which made the ragged edges of its cloak sway in its wake. It forged ahead almost blindly, as though its mind were wandering far from the forest it was traversing, and perhaps from the world itself; an observer who might have been watching it from the circumstant shadows, however, would have been unable to determine whether this was effectively the case. Impenetrable in the best of lights, its garments presently made it almost indistinguishable from the blackness surrounding it; it was as though a living patch of night had woven itself into a vague shape and set about some purpose with the resolve of an elemental force. Anon, the rustle of fallen leaves beneath the traveller's feet grew slightly fainter, and soon it stepped from under the oaks' reaching branches into a small clearing of roughly circular shape. Now, though the best part of it remained akin to a living shadow, it was possible to distinguish certain of it features: the gnarled, almost claw-like hand firmly gripping a wanderer's staff; the bag slung near its chest which shook as though endowed with a life of its own; and the vague stirring of the veil before where its mouth might have been, which, though not accompanied by any sound, indicated that, whatever the being could have been, it was alive.

 Having moved a few steps into the glade, the figure stopped in its tracks. It remained still for some moments, as though listening intently; then it cast back its head and stood with its veiled features turned upwards, toward the stars. It stood thus for a few silent minutes, during which even the restless bag did not move. Then, lowering its gaze once again, it reached into its second repository and produced thence a small, leather-bound and somewhat worn volume. The figure turned a number of pages, seemingly seeking a particular passage. Having presumably found it, it bent over the book for some moments, then abruptly straightened itself and, casting forth its empty hand, exclaimed in a loud, yet hoarse and hollow voice: N'uraith yuulhieh vuul.

The soil at the centre of the clearing began to shimmer with a sinister, flickering light of a vaguely purple-bluish hue. This luminosity grew in height, reaching the size and faint shape of a bonfire; nor did it stop at that point, but blazed ever taller and brighter, until it gained the semblance of a radiant column reaching far into the night sky. Great tendrils of flame sprouted from its bulk, coiling in a dazzling spiral wherein was reflected the eternal, unfathomable game that was the growth of an universe...

And suddenly it was gone. Where the colossal apparition had stood not a single blade of grass bore any mark of its passing. The cloaked figure stood for a while, gazing at where it had been; then returned the book into its bag and, casting a final glance at the stars that had impassively witnessed its doings, disappeared once again into the shadows of the forest.

The Hand of Fate

The Star Seeker

Tarot Card: The Star Seeker

Name: Ultrovos, the Veiled One

Age: 47

Gender: Male

Appearance: The Veiled One appears as a tall, gaunt figure entirely wrapped in a black cloak, which has grown tattered and frayed at the edges. His head is concealed by a cowl, and before his face there hangs a black veil. With one hand he leans upon a gnarled wooden staff, whereas over his other shoulder are slung two leather bags, one of which occasionally twitches and writhes.

Backstory: Ultrovos was once an aspiring wizard, studying the arcane arts in one of the Sun Kingdom's academies. However, following a seemingly failed spellweaving experiment performed in the course of his learning, he began to be plagued by strange dreams, from which he would wake gibbering wildly. Deeming them to be caused by an illness, he retired to his quarters for weeks, in the course of which strange mutterings could be heard issuing from them - yet Ultrovos never received any visitors. After that period, he emerged from his confinement having acquired a mostly taciturn demeanour, a habit of draping a dark cowl about his features due to "vulnerable eyes" and a mighty strange journal, which is presently his most valued possession.
To any observer, it appears as full of barely legible gibberish. However, Ultrovos himself is able to use it as a spellbook, invoking strange and disturbing enchantments from its pages and occasionally merely leafing through it or scribbling some further notes.

Having underwent such baffling changes, he departed, with little explanation, on a quest to find "the shattered star", which he believes to lie somewhere upon the world's surface. While he himself would probably be unable to say what exactly he is seeking, he is convinced he shall recognise his quarry upon seeing it.

However this may stand, from then on the wandering Veiled One became a rather dreaded figure. Though not actively malicious, he inevitably brings strange and fearful prodigies wherever he travels, and havoc follows in his wake.

Abilities: Ultrovos is able to evoke diverse and potent otherworldly magics from his makeshift spellbook, often ensuing in chaotic effects as these alien incantations grate against the fabric of reality.

Additionally, he seems to be suffused with some sort of unnatural vitality, as he is able to subsist for exceptionally long periods without sleep or nutrition.

Theme song: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=ZC2LXZE_6rw

Other: Ultrovos possesses a familiar of some sort - a creature dwelling within an ever-darkened bag. The being itself has never been seen, but the bag occasionally writhes curiously, and anything deposited into it is swiftly and silently devoured.

The Outer Spheres

The Realms Beyond

Thanks to the tireless labour of generations of magi, scholars and divinists, the inhabitants of the material worlds nowadays possess a rather significant measure of knowledge concerning the shape and structure of the cosmos at large, encompassing both its inner core and the regions astral, celestial and infernal stretching beyond the reach of immediate perception. Yet seldom are the works of mortals, and even immortals, flawless, and the lore of the universe is no exception. There is a limit beyond which all known laws fade, and which, if breached, will reward an explorer not with wisdom but with madness; that limit is the boundary of the Outer Spheres.
These cryptic realms - though they might very well be an universe or several unto themselves - stretch without the furthermost dimensions of the known cosmos, and are unlike anything even those strange peripheral lands might ever have seen. How vast they are no one can tell, for those very few reckless souls who have succeeded in contacting the Outside and retained some little sanity dared not travel far into it. All that is known is that it appears to an observer as a chaos of shifting distances, unpredictable geometries and unnameable shapes and hues which cannot be described with coherent words. Colossal and horrifying presences are said to glide, or swim, or shamble through that pandemonium, generating even more disquieting abnormities as they move.
Though such a location ought to discourage any visitors by its own nature alone, there have nonetheless been many conjurers and summoners who attempted to open rifts between it and their worlds, seeking to study it or harness its energies for their own ends. However, it would seem that the Outer Spheres are so alien in their composition that no conscious effort has to this day succeeded in breaching their borders, unless strengthened with occult knowledge already obtained there (and those who have mastered this resource are, as a rule, either unable or unwilling to share their findings). Rather, it has recently become apparent to the few arcane circles willing to deal in such matters that some comparatively simple conjurations, if performed by a distracted or inexperienced evoker, have a minute chance of exposing the unfortunate caster to the maddening influence of the Beyond. This contact lasts the merest fraction of an instant; yet who knows whether this might not be enough for the spellcaster's mind to be shattered - or for some nameless entity to bind them to an unknowable purpose?

The Hand of Fate

Excellent. Here, then, is my character - I shall try and concoct some piece of arcane cosmology to match him tomorrow.

The Star Seeker

Tarot Card: The Star Seeker

Name: Ultrovos, the Veiled One

Age: 47

Gender: Male

Appearance: The Veiled One appears as a tall, gaunt figure entirely wrapped in a black cloak, which has grown tattered and frayed at the edges. His head is concealed by a cowl, and before his face there hangs a black veil. With one hand he leans upon a gnarled wooden staff, whereas over his other shoulder are slung two leather bags, one of which occasionally twitches and writhes.

Backstory: Ultrovos was once an aspiring wizard, studying the arcane arts in one of the Sun Kingdom's academies. However, following a seemingly failed spellweaving experiment performed in the course of his learning, he began to be plagued by strange dreams, from which he would wake gibbering wildly. Deeming them to be caused by an illness, he retired to his quarters for weeks, in the course of which strange mutterings could be heard issuing from them - yet Ultrovos never received any visitors. After that period, he emerged from his confinement having acquired a mostly taciturn demeanour, a habit of draping a dark cowl about his features due to "vulnerable eyes" and a mighty strange journal, which is presently his most valued possession.
To any observer, it appears as full of barely legible gibberish. However,  Ultrovos himself is able to use it as a spellbook, invoking strange and disturbing enchantments from its pages and occasionally merely leafing through it or scribbling some further notes.

Having underwent such baffling changes, he departed, with little explanation, on a quest to find "the shattered star", which he believes to lie somewhere upon the world's surface. While he himself would probably be unable to say what exactly he is seeking, he is convinced he shall recognise his quarry upon seeing it.

However this may stand, from then on the wandering Veiled One became a rather dreaded figure. Though not actively malicious, he inevitably brings strange and fearful prodigies wherever he travels, and havoc follows in his wake.

Abilities: Ultrovos is able to evoke diverse and potent otherworldly magics from his makeshift spellbook, often ensuing in chaotic effects as these alien incantations grate against the fabric of reality.

Additionally, he seems to be suffused with some sort of unnatural vitality, as he is able to subsist for exceptionally long periods without sleep or nutrition.

Theme song: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=ZC2LXZE_6rw

Other: Ultrovos possesses a familiar of some sort - a creature dwelling within an ever-darkened bag. The being itself has never been seen, but the bag occasionally writhes curiously, and anything deposited into it is swiftly and silently devoured.

Ave!

Greetings to all ye guild-denizens!
I, the self-appointed abyssal oracle, have come to keep you company at the best of my abilities, bringing with me my baggage of reasonable experience with play-by-post role-playing and inordinately active imagination.
May our collaborations be long and fruitful!

The Hand of Fate

Greetings to all.
I am told by our ghastly friend Turbowraith that there might yet potentially be room for one participant here. If this were the case, I would be more than glad to join.