Talin has been a feature of this land since its dawn. While they are neither regularly recognized nor publicly known, they have found themselves in the underbelly of society, whether the secret catacombs and temples long forgotten or tunnels and systems adapted to house the many forces and resources they had accumulated over time. They relied on secrecy and deception to handle their problems and ultimate goals. Crafting the best of soldiers, the best warriors, mages, thieves, and assassins here. The Catacombs of Orcus. A massive system of tunnels and rooms that snake along with the mountain range of which they are named after. Or perhaps the mountains were named after these catacombs. Years have dulled this knowledge, and even the most ancient sources fail to distinguish. Either way, this was where it was all birthed, either way. A man found within these catacombs the power that they had locked away and set out to collect more and more of. Collect people, objects, and trinkets. He was

It has been a week since they had left Liontari. It was generally agreed that there will be no farewells this time, as was Celia's wish. This wish was not without a little debate, mostly from Lyse than from Edlund or the others. This came to a surprise to a few, especially Celia. Then again, much of the first night had been arguments of Lyse not wishing for her to come along, and continue her recovery. Edlund noticed him trying to take all the responsibility, as usual. He likes to take all the responsibility, but none of the credit. The two didn't talk much on the second day, more stand-offish and considering, as if anticipating what the other would say next to refute their argument, which never happened. They managed to make a lot of ground, but the only talking was among Elena, Gray, and Edlund. Lyse headed out for navigation, and Celia covered their rear and looked for anyone potentially following them. Two positions that stayed far from one another. It seemed that they will stay i

Very few people fully understood the word struggle. Many think they do. Most would point to life moments, specific challenges to overcome that could perhaps decide the very fate they tread upon. But for Damusius Concord, this struggle was minuscule in the face of what he faced for nearly a decade now. The struggle was different for the likes of him. Struggle meant more than a choice or arduous task, one that would occur once per lifetime. It didn't mean something that could only happen once or twice. No. A struggle for a plithos meant that every moment, every second spent conscious or unconscious threatened your destruction. Your soul, your body mangled beyond belief. To keep in a power that you may wish for, but is never truly yours. Your purpose is to be the container of this power, and any falter in your mind or will may very well be your demise.He doesn't remember the last time he had felt the sun. Although, that was a luxury, someone like he rarely gets to see. He had been locke

It has been a few days since the attack from that Chimera. They were lucky that there were relatively few injuries amongst their crew. Nemean Lions are known for their ferocity and high body counts. They are a challenging threat, even for knights, with their nearly impenetrable hide. There would be no question why a regular guildsman died, and two more maimed beyond belief. And a young girl was impaled through the chest by the spines of the leading Manticore in a display of cruelty. They did their best to console the mother, who grieved all night until they had to bury the girl. This was the best they could do for a funeral. Carrying the dead was itself a walking death flag and could summon things much worse than a pride of lions. Custom was to burn the body in a pyre, but doing so in the wilderness is far too arduous. At least now they know that the body will be at peace and return from which it came.The guildsman rode off silently, the mother's reasons for continuing on smoldered,

Lyse was not able to fully understand what was going on. He never thought that a ghost would be the first shocking information of the day, but it did prove to be the case. And he was talking to one, somehow. And this was not just any specter, but one of a godslayer, a member of Theurgy who knew his mother. His name was Maurice and supposedly was born and raised here in Pumavut. He also didn't think that the pendant of death would be in a place like this, and he could find it in such a way. It was bizarre for him to think about. But Fate does work in unconventional ways, most often. It is difficult to criticize something that had been so consistent so far.But still, the thought of ghosts was chilling for him. You never hear good stories about them. Well, real stories. There are some tales that show some ghosts to be quite benevolent, helping a noble find the killer of his family or providing something to the hero that would otherwise be impossible. But from accounts of knights, they c