Once a grand cathedral dedicated to the Holy Triumvirate, all that remains now are ruins ever since the religion was rejected strongly in 1823. While the religion is back in favor, the cathedral was never restored. (+3 Defense, +2 Offense)

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[M: Violence] Dungeon Crawl [Open!]

Postby Feint » 07/07/2016 12:30 AM

Read Me! MANDATORY wrote:.: Rules and Dungeon Guide! :. MATURE rating for depictions of violence/injury, and gross things like blood, rot, maggots, corpses, etc.


I wish to welcome you to Lya Pointa, the old letter began, My home for many years - and ultimately, my grave.

Khadgar habitually stroked his upper lip with his fingers as he read. His amber eyes flicked across the similarly-colored thin, crumbling page. A line formed between his brows, and he carefully put the letter away. This whole situation, it reeked of suspicious intent. Though it was likely a trap, he felt compelled to visit the dark cathedral. The letter was so standardized, so ambiguous, that he was certain others had been 'invited' as well. He feared for their safety.

He slung an empty bookbag over his shoulder, then pulled on his blue cloak. He hastily packed a spellbook, dried food, water, pens, and a small handful of charcoal sticks, then made to leave his rented studio. As an afterthought, he grabbed a wand and a steel dagger, then jogged out toward the woods. It was a seven day trip through the forest to the abandoned cathedral on foot, and as far as he was concerned, that was seven days too long.

My wraiths, though not wraiths then, wandered deep into the heart of the polar storm. They tried to fight sleep, naive to the inevitability of their fate. When they awoke, they saw before them my own self, so much a part of the ice and cold they almost fail to see me. I wear a crown of the coldest, sturdiest ice, and my claws and fur have coated themselves in it.
I stand aloof to the cold, for I have lived in it so long, been a part of it so long, it no longer concerns me.

My wraiths are cursed to wander the polar tundra, eternally freezing, following mortal explorers and trying to warn them with their presence that they should not travel onward, should not make the same mistake. But there will always be those who persist in pressing on, never knowing what they are doomed to face, or destined to suffer.

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Re: [M: Violence] Dungeon Crawl [Open!]

Postby cloudwilk » 07/07/2016 5:55 PM

Image The day had been entirely empty. Empty of content, that is. Empty of words. It made Vasion feel a little depressed, like all purpose and meaning was gone. He had come to the cathedral from the South, arriving at Lambastia later in the day. Though, not as late as the sky made it seem. It was overcast and dreary. Summer was typically a time of light but Vasion's felt as though it were dying out. There must be something... He thought, hungrily looking for a new book.

He sniffed around, smelling trees, grass, dirt, and oncoming rain. He looked up, expecting another fern, shocked at the building that seemed to just appear before him. How had he missed that? I am hungry, indeed. Vasion gazed at the sky, realizing it was best to go inside. Perhaps there would be another he could meet? No... No way. This place was disintegrating into itself. No one had lived there in ages. After feeling a rain drop, he stepped forward, suddenly overcome by the stench of death. As weird as it sounds, it invigorated him. It was new and mean't something was changing. He embraced the garbage stench as he stepped into the corridor, overcome by new sensations. Books. There were books here... but not the kind he was looking for.

His eyes glaze over the sights but his attention is stolen by the sudden noises from his left. That seems to be where the stench is coming from... perhaps. Echoes bounce down the entryway, suddenly waking Vasion up. His eyes became metaphorically open. I must go this way. He thought without care. I must go left.

[[Quick withdrawal- wish this got somewhere T.T]]
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