07-27-2021, 01:49 AM
(This post was last modified: 07-27-2021, 01:49 AM by MrBongtastic.)
Something brews in the ruins of Achyon.
A Thick black fog brews around the ruined city, its' source? The dread Paupers Bride arriving at its docks.
The Fog clings to all, like a dreadful curtain hiding something very special behind it.
-
Any who walk through it are accosted by whispers, voices of the Deep One and those damned by it, all calling and coaxing with the same promises of freedom, power, riches, all for a singular price: Sanity.
-
Those who travel deep into the now accursed ruins of Achyon are stricken with horrifying nightmares, the gaze of something that should not be. When asked what they had seen? They can only recall few scant details.
-
Fogfolk, Souls cursed by the Deep and forever bound to the ship begin to move through the ruins, unloading boxes and building ramshackle huts or repurposing abandoned buildings for purposes unknown.
-
Listless undead, dregs of the Lich Kings forces begin to shuffle once again as commands reach their minds, aiding the cursed in their efforts.
-
Laying claim to the Ruins of old is the Dread Captain Reave, commanding the Folk while the undead aid the cursed, a place claimed by the reborn Deep Company. Somewhere for Outlaws and Outcasts alike to rise, free of the Scrutiny of the self righteous. Once again, sailors crazed by their encounters sing as bards once had before them:
-
Deep within the Fogs of madness, where the dead once roamed anew.
Something vile and wonderful brews, a place for the outcast few.
Those who've heard the Sirens call, now see from where it hails.
The herald of the Mori sings, while those damned by him all wail.
-
You now walk the Moris shores, one who heard the song.
The Whispers share a wicked tale, dreams of dead things unfulfilled.
All things touched by the fog, feel the Deep Ones gaze.
And in their nightmares hear his voice, singing promises of truth.
A Thick black fog brews around the ruined city, its' source? The dread Paupers Bride arriving at its docks.
The Fog clings to all, like a dreadful curtain hiding something very special behind it.
-
Any who walk through it are accosted by whispers, voices of the Deep One and those damned by it, all calling and coaxing with the same promises of freedom, power, riches, all for a singular price: Sanity.
-
Those who travel deep into the now accursed ruins of Achyon are stricken with horrifying nightmares, the gaze of something that should not be. When asked what they had seen? They can only recall few scant details.
-
Fogfolk, Souls cursed by the Deep and forever bound to the ship begin to move through the ruins, unloading boxes and building ramshackle huts or repurposing abandoned buildings for purposes unknown.
-
Listless undead, dregs of the Lich Kings forces begin to shuffle once again as commands reach their minds, aiding the cursed in their efforts.
-
Laying claim to the Ruins of old is the Dread Captain Reave, commanding the Folk while the undead aid the cursed, a place claimed by the reborn Deep Company. Somewhere for Outlaws and Outcasts alike to rise, free of the Scrutiny of the self righteous. Once again, sailors crazed by their encounters sing as bards once had before them:
-
Deep within the Fogs of madness, where the dead once roamed anew.
Something vile and wonderful brews, a place for the outcast few.
Those who've heard the Sirens call, now see from where it hails.
The herald of the Mori sings, while those damned by him all wail.
-
You now walk the Moris shores, one who heard the song.
The Whispers share a wicked tale, dreams of dead things unfulfilled.
All things touched by the fog, feel the Deep Ones gaze.
And in their nightmares hear his voice, singing promises of truth.