“The symbiotes from the the depths of the Abyss are known for their insidious whispers, promises, and later lies they tell in order to gain a host within Arawyn. After nesting inside a host in exchange for the promise of power, the symbiote is able to bide its time as their keeper works towards manifesting the Parasite’s and their will. Now a true warlock, they are met with the grim reality that they no longer have control over their body at the most inconvenient time. The longer a being is subjected to this condition, the more they lose control. In the latest stages, the host forgets themselves and languishes as the Symbiote’s puppet evermore”
-An Excerpt from the journal of Tyrafin Belmont
***
This darkness was consuming. A High Elven man began to scream as he awoke. There was no escape in sight, not even the faintest glimmer of light. Was he alone here? Was a suffocating eternal darkness destined to be his fate? Faint memories of a tea party lurked at the edges of his mind, but he couldn’t remember the people, the conversation. His wife’s whispers echoed through the dark, once loud, but now so quiet…
***
“Mortal hunters are beings who take up the profession of killing people. Either solitary or in groups, the important part of handling them is assessing which method they use to get power. A mortal hunter is filled with such disdain towards the living they hunt that they are willing to go through literal torture to get the power they need to eradicate the beings of Arawyn. They all have twisted methods to their madness. Some believe they are solving some sort of problem, while others are simply hateful beings; the spectrum is large and it is up to those combating them to use their best judgment to capture, punish, or rehabilitate these people.”
-An Excerpt from a Witch Hunter Training Text.
‘We will not be able to keep hidden much longer, especially not with the heroes back in town’, a woman thought as she stoked a small fire in the woods. She stared silently at her peers through the flames. Myr had already blown his cover and took his time killing commoners on the edge of town; she wouldn’t have been surprised if he had ruined it for all of them. It was then in the dead of night that she missed Echo. The two had been so much alike, true kin, but he abandoned them for Travance. Whatever the heroes had offered him, she couldn’t have guessed. What she did know was that if they did not prove their worth here, she and her kind would soon be at the whims of their afflictions, for only Renior had the power to manipulate their symptoms to keep the worst parts at bay…
***
“What is more important to the success of this method of casting are the links it contains to the memories of the sorcerer that they choose. The emotions this memory elicits should be strong enough to make the caster able to draw upon it clearly as if living it again. This should, in theory, connect the ritual more closely to the caster, for what would awaken one more than the sudden joy of remembering the birth of your children or the moment you married the love of your life.”
- From ‘The Theory of Emotion-Based Ritual by Renior Fai’
Even as the bards of the Dragon’s Claw played, insidious whispers could be heard softly behind their music. No one wanted it to be quiet for long--the bards even tried to play louder. Yet the whispers remained, ever present, and those who overheard dreaded what might happen if they actually listened to what the voices were saying.
Meanwhile, a spirit raised her hand to the barrier keeping her inside. She frowned at the anger and hate that fueled this barrier. It suppressed her magic, made it unstable--a poor imitation of what her husband did before her death. She sent what little power she could to the town in hopes it would help the common folk. It was the least she could do, providing respite in the wake of her husband who was lost to his despair. She had faith that the heroes of Travance would come and free her; it wouldn’t be long until the Order of the Blood Moon was dismantled and her husband’s soul was freed.
