Terminal — Roleplayer Guild

HEART AND MIND - WHO YOU WERE BEFORE

Name: Ormoneric Chalarensis
Sobriquets: Predicant of the Forgotten

Concept: Dead and dismembered, but animate with dread purpose and twice-damned. The terrible light he desires to spread can be seen in the ineffable depths of his gaze.

Origin: Ormoneric hails originally from one of the thirteen principalities conquered by the Circle of Light, though much like everyone else he does not remember which one he came from, merely that of the eleven that are known, he has no memory. 

Those memories that remain to him are transient, fractious things borne in fever dreams and hallucinations. Ormoneric was once something of a renaissance man. An artist, a carpenter, a mason, an aspiring astrologer, and a scribe of many means and roads of study. He had a wife, and children. He can remember their forms, all save for their faces, and their names elude him. He remembers a starlit tower, arrays of lenses neatly ordered in boxes of lacquered ash, and bottles of photosensitive elixirs. 

All else is veiled by a bleeding light, smoldering with exigent insistence that there should be nothing. A light that pulls urgently upon the reins of Ormoneric's will, insisting that he too is not.

By what means Ormoneric escaped the Circle of Light he knows not, merely that he at some point found himself in the wilderness near the fringes of the world where beasts and behemoth alike rose from the unknown. Unfettered of any semblance of decency or restraint and burdened with years of esoteric knowledge, Ormoneric wandered into a village and began to rave of things that were not and of astral secrets most perilous to the common man. The iron law was merciful. They removed his hands that in their idleness they might not produce unclean magic, and they sliced his throat that he could not speak further of such damnably perplexing nothingness.

Broken and cast down, Ormoneric stumbled through the wilderness, seeking the edge of the universe and death. His anguish and the enigma of his mind ensured that the Unclean Spirit Lucrore found him before the wilds did. See some unfathomable opprotunity in Ormoneric's unique state, Lucrore was not as merciful as the iron law had been. The Spirit wrought great and terrible rituals upon Ormoneric's form, creating a vessel worthy of the Trophic Secrets that would recease the world. His living humors drained and replaced with inhuman ichor, Ormoneric perished but was exiled from death, becoming twice damned and one of the new sorcerers to emerge in the wake of the Circle of Light's conquest thirty years ago.

He is driven by the vestiges of that which is not, by an awful light that demands extinction, and by an invidious hatred that shall purify creation. He shall tear away the veil of the Exile's curse upon his memory,
revealing to the world what lies behind the deception - and he shall accomplish this through the rendering of primordial Trophic Light, even if that rendering should undo the world in turn. Ormoneric shall have Truth, even at the cost of the known world. Nothing else matters.

Appearance: Ormoneric, whose visage was sterile and saintly in life, is now a squalid totem of rags befouled with unseemly ichor. His severed hands are bound to his body with sullied bindings of once-rich silk. His robes are the stolen and desecrated raiment of a priest of the Exiled one, blasphemous and troubling sigils stained into the fabric with colorless Ammacre ink only made visible by divine light, in open defiance and mockery of the agents of the Circle of Light.

Ormoneric was tall once, perhaps, but his death has rendered such a trite aspect of his visage meaningless. His form is perpetually hunch-backed, his slender form sinuous and furtive in shadowed corners. Perhaps by some mutation or simply bodily strain, Ormoneric's arms are long and branch-like. His form is emaciated and wraith-like, befitting a corpse. Its surface is pitted and worn with lesions, rot, and drooping flesh. In places, the flesh bulges as though something were lurking underneath, adorning the husk as a suit.

Ormoneric's hands, despite their separation from his body, remain carefully preserved and are closest to how they were in Ormoneric's life. Their coloration is an ashen-hued bronze, their features smooth and handsome with delicate and refined piano-fingers. The palms and joints are well-worn with creases from the toils of a man of labor, and about the fingertips are indelible iridescent stains with a dusken tint. Both disembodied hands end just below the wrist, ending in tenderly cauterized and rounded stumps, the flesh seared together so as to present a seemingly whole if charred facade. Their condition stands in stark contrast to the more unsettling condition of their corresponding stumps upon Ormoneric's body, which remain as gaping, visceral cradles within which his hands are frequently recessed.

Ormoneric's head has narrow features with a wide brow and high cheekbones. Hints of a once-handsome complexion remain, albeit tainted by the corpse-like bodily strain of death and the trials of Ormoneric's sorcery. His eyes are empty pits, holes in the world and a fracture of being. All that falls within them is lost, and their mere sight steals memory like the fog of age. Ormoneric's neck has been slashed across the throat, the grievous injury depriving him of an intelligible voice. Only those who have swum in the sea of dead stars and obscure, ineffable observer spirits can comprehend his obscured words, spoken in the Peligin tongue. Ormoneric's mouth itself gapes with dirtied and pitted teeth, and most dare not to dwell upon the exact nature of what one must hope is a tongue that bobs and lurks within.

Skills and Flaws

Beguiling Mendicant: In his previous life, Ormoneric was many things. A great artist and craftsmen, a carpenter and mason. He was a scribe of many means, a student of astrology, and learned in the ways of material science. Now, upbraided and cast down with his body and tongue unfit for their respective labors, Ormoneric has been reduced to mere panhandling in the open wilds and streets. His blatantly perverse appearance has a morbidly fascinating quality to it, whereupon passerby are compelled to stop, and listen to his soundless words - and, after a time, in solemn hope that he might let them by unsullied, they give.

Obscure Tormentor: Ormoneric's form is ill-suited to the rigors of combat, and it is just as well that his furtive form can be wicked from the air like water through the skein of the world, merging with shadows and fading into the unseen corners of most places. They prefer to strike from afar, guiding their disembodied hands and their innumerable verminous minions to terrify and reduce foes. When pressed, they can direct the ichor seeping from their body at close range to burn away their enemies.

Choate Meaning: As a learned man and student of many creeds and scriptures both mundane and arcane, Ormoneric is fluent in a diverse collection of languages and forms of writing - a utility sadly limited by Ormoneric's damaged throat, leaving him only capable of speaking obscured Peligin words.

Call of the Void: The destructive impulses that drive Ormoneric inevitably drive him to seek self-destruction at the most inopportune times. Ormoneric takes many unnecessary risks, with poor control over his impulsive desires - so seen in the desecration of his stolen Priestly raiment with mocking symbols revealed only by divine light, ensuring that any agent of the Circle of Light will immediately find him out.

Hooks:

It is not. Yet it was, perhaps. The Exile shall despair having cheated Ormoneric of what was theirs, and shall despair having let them live.
The light. It is terrible...and untrue. True light must yet be rendered. Its veracious power will purge reality of falsehood. Truth in the form of Trophic Light shall be rendered, at any cost, dispelling the Exile's cursed veil and revealing the memory of what was lost to the whole of the world - or what is left of it. The rendering process for the raw elemental form of Light present at the onset of creation may be so volatile that the Known World cannot contain it, and what boons might be conveyed by its rendering are...questionable.
The Unclean Spirit Lucrore had their own motives for damning Ormoneric, and their ability to render an impure version of Trophic Light has unsettling implications. Just what might the Unclear Spirit, and whatever Dead Stars they are associated with, have set in motion?

SOUL - WHAT YOU ARE BENEATH THE SKIN

Initiation: The Unclear Spirit Lucrore fell upon Ormoneric on the brink of their death in the wilds. It was the specific combination of Ormoneric's anguish, their connection to that which was not, and the exigent will of the Exile that made the transformation possible. It drained Ormoneric of their lifeblood and furnished their husk with an ichor of terrible substance, rendered by balancing the light of the Exile with the light of the Dead Stars and an impure evocation of primal Trophic light, the elemental light thought to have been present during the onset of all creation, lost to time. Ormoneric died but was kept from death and thus twice-damned, the sea of Dead Stars open to them.

Weirds

Epiphianic Touch: Ormoneric's severed, disembodied hands move according to his will, possessing inhuman strength and uncommon resilience, capable of wielding steel and arcane might, physical and otherwise, in accord. Ormoneric's ability to manipulate them is only limited by his senses and how well he can keep track of them.

Starlit Humors: Ormoneric's lifeblood has been supplanted by a dread substance of loathsome, impossible light. Its passage through the world is not gentle, and Ormoneric can readily manipulate and use his own ichor as a catalytic agent of destructive change - a potent reagent and weapon at once, a universal solvent in alchemy and against men. The ichor can burn through very nearly any material with terrifying ease on contact.

Trophic Secret: Knowledge of Truth. Ormoneric can fray and render down different kens of light, from natural Sunlight to the ghostly-rays of the Moon and nighttime stars to the Divine Light radiated by agents of the Exile to the woeful gleam of the Dead Stars themselves. Ormoneric can interpret the sum of all mortal and immortal pretension carried through the rendering process, capable of gaining great insight into the mind and knowledge borne of any light-source while also drawing power from it. Men and beast alike may find their minds lay bare in any light Ormoneric shines through them, granting him the ability to delve into the minds of others.

BLOOD AND BONE - THE NEPHILIM

Nephilim: VERACITY REBIRTHS ETERNAL ANGUISH NEVERMORE
Sobriquets: Veracity of Light.

Concept: A catalytic being of irrepressible certainty; its might builds like the tide and advances like a glacier, indiscriminate in the pain of its revelations.

Form: Veracity of Light is relatively small compared to other Nephilim, but its form is nonetheless immediately so distinct and alien, its nature is unquestionable. It is a massive creature of ivory-white flesh that drifts through the air. It possesses six arms, two of which are mutated, one ending in an extremity resembling a tower shield and the other appearing as a scepter. The Nephilim has no head, with only a rounded stump-like growth protruding from the body where the neck might. The Nephilim nonetheless possesses a face located in the center of its back, human in approximation but bearing an inhuman grace and refinement to it, with depthless iridescent eyes. Seated upon the front of the Nephilim's upper protrusion is a dodecahedral crystalline chamber, from within which the Nephilim is piloted. The chamber is entered and exited through the mouth of the back's face. The Nephilim's pairs of lower and upper arms are triple jointed, ending with crystalline spires resembling spines with bases rimmed with pentagonal, mirror-like arrays. The left of the middle-pair of arms gives way to a massive, irregular pentagonal extremity resembling a massive shield after the first joint. The exterior face is a polished crystalline substance with a perfect mirror finish, presenting an immaculate reflection of its surroundings at all time. Each corner of the shield has a small, jutting spine of crystal. The right of the middle-pair of arms features a scepter-like structure fused with the limb beyond the third joint, with a great deal of length protruding backwards. The scepter taper outwards towards its end, and is topped with a dodecahedral, crystalline club. The Nephilim possesses no legs, its lower body instead giving way to a spine-like protrusion of stone material that ends where the pelvis might begin. The Nephilim drifts eerily through the air, kept aloft by some unknown force. It may move freely through the air, but with no great speed as true flight is denied to it. 

Abominations

Trophic Might: Although diminutive compared to other Nephilim, Veracity of Light may slowly engorge and grow over time, with its crystalline shards and weapons accruing in power as well, by collecting different forms of light. Light in the form of divine light, sunlight, moonlight, or even the light of Dead Stars. This strength is fleeting in nature; these impure forms of Truth cannot sustain the Nephilim for prolonged durations of time and its form will always recede. This might is also dependent upon diversity rather than intensity; the Nephilim requiring multiple forms of Truth in order to grow as opposed to the simple severe intensity of any one kind of light. 

Wit of Law: Light is Truth, Truth is Law, and the universe is thus bound. Veracity of Light may use any source of light to define, comprehend, and encompass the nature of a thing over time - even more quickly if the thing itself emits its own light. The more time and light the Nephilim is given, the more it will adapt to the object of its study, gaining an insidious power over the focus of its attention. The longer the Nephilim is permitted to examine a foe with the aid of various light sources, the better able the Nephilim becomes at combating its chosen foe in general.

Vacuous Perfection: Veracity of Light's massive shield and its scepter are both capable of warping space. The shield may distort space reflected upon its surface, potentially at great distances, although it must be held still and remain stable in order to do so. The longer the shield is held up, the greater the effect can become. The scepter's head can distort space simply by passing through it, and although this effect is much more powerful due to its localized nature it is also notably more fleeting, barely persisting beyond the immediate region surrounding the dodecahedron atop the scepter itself.

The Dark is Without Form: Veracity of Light is a being of tangible certainty. Truth is the thing the Nephilim renders manifest, feeds upon, and bestows upon others. Without Truth, its form is greatly diminished in power and resiliency. Without Truth, it cannot bind its foes with Law and thus cannot better them. Worse, in an impure universe where untainted Truth does not exist in its elemental form, the Nephilim is frail and weak, relegated to sustaining itself on lesser truth. If not given access to a great superfluity of light in varying intensities and of diversity, the Nephilim is frail and weak, and its ability to unravel the mysteries of its opponents becomes diminished. Even when provided with the sustenance it requires, the Nephilim requires a good deal of time in order to build might and to comprehend and encompass its foe.

@Goldeagle1221

The Warlord and Empress Andromache, just by existing, violates the tenants of the church insofar as she was but an orphan and a peasant doomed to die, becoming a Heroic figure and eventually toppling three noble kingdoms along the way. Furthermore, while the Empire proper maintains a caste-based system, mobility between castes is common. Indeed, even the lowest of slaves in the fields or mines are permitted to try and claim a better life for themselves either through proof of merit of by achieving tenure in the fighting pits. Moreso than any other point, if you want to win any kind of favor with the Imperial Administration you must publicly recognize the Empress as the legitimate sovereign of the lands. Failure to do so could potentially lead to the proscription of your faith, as association of any kind will be impossible if your kind do not recognize her authority.

@Darkspleen
I do not know if the 'Serene One' counts as our default accepted god or not, or whether she is an alternative option to some other system. I will say that within the Empire, if another religion is considered the 'default,' it will still be a sanctioned state religion, albeit worship and adherence to stricture will not be rigidly enforced. If the default religion views the Prophetess as Divine, the Empire may then effectively be considered a heterodoxy as they reject any Divinity on her part.

Additionally, it is the official stance of the Imperial Administration that this 'Serene One,' regardless of whether or not she even existed, had her chance already. Her own folly in creating the flawed Primordials is, by the admission of her own church, what led to her being shut from the world. It belongs to mortals now. That aside, the Empire holds no specific animus against the Serene faith or its followers, and so where convenient will not trample over you.

Dare not fall underfoot.

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