The Journal of Anamis Black

Campaign: Dark Sun: Rising

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Are these my last thoughts?
Its humorous how nothing ever goes to plan. I thought I had the system figured out, always a step ahead of the game. I was on the cusp of freedom, and in a sense immortality. The ritual I had created was flawless, yet I would never have the time to invoke it. Another day or two maybe, but now Its to late.. I can feel myself dying.

I go to my death leaving behind my shattered dreams and chances of redemption. Regrets and fears are now my new companions and They will shepherd me into arms of the devil. He is waiting patiently... not long now.

Darkness descends and he greets me with a cold smile. A smile that speaks of endless torment and suffering. He ushers me forward and I follow knowingly.
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A pure soul indeed!
The battle with Tlacaelel and the wound that never healed.
Anamis pulls himself off the ground and into a kneeling position. His head feels like its splitting apart and there is a severe lancing pain in his neck. He reaches up and touches the flesh, feeling two distinct bite marks. The skin is ravaged, it was not a neat bite.. Anamis can feel that something is wrong with the wound, but he has other issues to worry about.. He shakes the dizziness from his head, and stands to his feet.


That fool Kalinth ruined everything. With the tear he created Biblios has bound himself to both our souls. If he only would have waited I might have been able to broker a deal between the two of them, leaving me out of their affairs entirely.. Now all hopes of that are lost. However He cannot be blamed entirely, I may share some of this blame. One does have to accept the risks when they steal the essence of a Devil.

At least I have a way out of this madness though, unlike That ignorant Psion. He will likely end up losing his soul for being so carless.

Anamis chuckles to himself while focusing his power inwardly. Now to rid myself of this devils claim.

Anamis's power courses through his body searching for the infection hidden beneath the skin. An infectious curse which was blissfully bestowed upon him by the now dead vampire Tlacaelel. He finds it quickly, the blackened tendrils of corruption had saturated the major veins leading to his heart. Thankfully the vile ichor had not completed its journey.

He pauses momentarily before commencing with the ritual and thinks back to the many nights he spent preparing for this day. Away from his groups prying eyes he would meticulously carve runes upon his flesh, infusing them with any spare residuum his companions would not notice. He sighs, taking a deep breath, preparing for the unknown.

Smiling he says the words and triggers the ritual.

Power fluxes inward, and the demonic essence of Biblios infuses with the corruption of Tlacaelel. The essence feeds the nearly dead infection, giving it new life. Black tendrils tighten within Anamis's veins spider webbing outward. The runes carved within his flesh turn black and weep, activating and fulfilling their desired effect. Deep within Anamis's body veins open wider, allowing the tainted blood to flow even more quickly. inevitably the infection reaches his heart.

He doubles over and screams, Vomiting Black frothy blood heavily upon the floor. choking on his own blood he tries to yell for help, but only gurgles can be heard. His skin ripples and budges as full blackened veins rip through muscle and push themselves just below the surface of the skin. His entire body convulses, muscles clenching, and tearing as the infection ravages his body.

Everything starts to go black, and Anamis wonders if he made the right decision. He knew this was the only way to save his soul...

A clawed hand reaches out, but he knows he's safe. He welcomes deaths embrace and his new life that awaits him.
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From Death to Life????
The half’giant’s swing was flawless, a perfect balance of power and technique which finished with a sickening crack. The chipped stone was buried deep into Pak’chas chest which hemorrhaged his lifesblood onto the surrounding stone.

The bug spammed sharply, legs kicking out in one last act of defiance before succumbing to his death.

With Pak’cha’s passing the rest of his companions rallied, and somehow managed to destroy their opponents. It took the life of a party member to push them over that edge.


“I have a way to save him, but it will require much from me. Sleep, eat, or do whatever you need to do… but do not disturb me.”

Anamis walks over picking up the Giant bug and slinging him over a shoulder. Blood leaked from Pak’cha’s carapace, soaking heavily into Anamis’s black cloak. He laid the bug by the water, and washed the wound for several minutes, before moving him yet again.

Anamis placed Pak’cha on a bed of grace and began to carve summoning runes around the bug. This act alone took several hours as Anamis worked to get the runes cut perfectly. If he missed any step in this ritual the whole thing could go very badly. After the symbols were completed, he then cut a chuck of raw residuum from each statue and distributed the contents evenly along the perimeter of the circle. He then placed the remaining jade residuum into Pak’chas wound and packed it tightly together.

The last step was the blood sacrifice, and then Biblios would be satisfied. Anamis sliced open the blackend veins in his right hand and spilled the corrupted blood onto each piece of residuum. The pitch like blood darkened the jade shards, turning them a deep blackish green that lightened near its edges.

All at once the residuum flares and Biblios is brought forth.
The devil wastes little time with introductions, and opens a portal to the gray. He knows the newly dead bug couldn’t have gone far, and quickly tracks down Pak’cha.

He stands before the bug with a smile upon his lips.

“Pak’cha, Anamis has requested that I bring you back from this existence so you can continue your life in that wretched land. I care little what you choose, but remember there is always a price for these things…”

Biblios holds out his clawed hand. “Come forth bug, let me guide you back into the light.”
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Tyr City Shuffle
During the flight away from the second legion Anamis stayed comfortably tucked away below deck. He knew his companions would be able to handle the situation above deck, so he stayed out of sight prepping for the binding ritual.

He found a secluded chamber well away from the crew and his companions, a place he knew no one would disturb him. A room guaranteed to have only solitude in these trying moments, a place perfect for an abyssal ritual. The captains quarters.

Kaylen’s room was well furnished for a trading vessel. Ornate and decorative rugs covered the hard wood planks of this room, embroiled chests laid snug against the wall, and a lavish looking bed took up the west corner of the room. It became quickly apparent to Anamis that Kaylen was saving for more than a silty day. Her ship was in tatters, yet her personal cabin was rich with possessions.

Anamis strolled causally to her night stand and slowly opened the drawer. He took only a moment to glance over Kaylen’s items before finding the object he desired. He selected a bone white comb that resembled a rather large tooth. The item was deeply engraved in a language he did not understand. The comb itself must have been from another age because the craftsmanship was flawless. The artisan who crafted this piece had somehow managed to engrave each segment of the comb. After examining it for a few moments he tucked it away with a satisfied smile.

Anamis knew she would notice this, but he cared little. It was a statement. One he hoped she would respond to, for better or worse. In place of the comb he laid his Red Blades broach, with a small letter reading: Kaylen , hope we meet again soon, I’ll leave you something to remember me by.

Anamis then removed the ornate rug covering the center of the captain’s chambers and began drawing the symbols of binding. Placing his new pact weapon in the center of the circle he drew forth a dagger, and sliced open the blackened veins of his right hand. He sloshed the corrupted blood over the runes then littered the ground with his remaining wealth. With blood and greed in the air, Heraxis’s devil could not resist the summons and came all too eagerly.

As the dark devil came forth, the symbols of the binding ritual began to brighten. The blood that had soaked into the floor boards began to simmer and the runes flared as bright as the desert sun. Black ichor bled and boiled from the ritual, evaporating and separating into thousands of tiny black threads that began encircling the newly summoned devil. Anamis’s guest was caught completely unaware as the black ropes enveloped him. This Devil had come forth hastily, expecting a deal with a new human, yet there were no bargains made in this ritual, only subjugation.

Anamis stood before the broken devil towering above his weakened form. “I know your Name Gilgamesh, and your power is now mine. Bilblios and I have consumed your essence and you now belong to me. If you serve me well I may let you grow in power. Annoy me and I will torment you for as long as I live.”

With a nod Gilgamesh complied, whispering curses under his breath.

Anamis grinned to himself, while listening to the laughter of Biblios in his mind. Now all he had left to do was clean up his mess…
Dice Rolls => Results = Total
d20 => [13] = 13
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Tags: Badass
Death of Tyrants
Thick tentacles of ice wrapped themselves around the Praetor Haraxes, His face draining of color as he contemplated his finality. He knew this power, it had a taste of familiarity…


I had recognized Haraxes’s gift early, and the devil he had bound himself to had given much to this mortal. His power coming mostly from the possession he flaunted arrogantly on the battle field. The curved and bladed rod was carved heavily with abyssal runes, whispering promises of power and damnation. His stature and weapon alone told the tail of his desperation. He must have made a pact so vile and damning that a devil would give nearly anything to appease the bargain. I admit that I admired his ambition, he was bold and clever, but became carless in his assentation to power.

Near his end it was fear that I tasted. He underestimated my powers…our powers… his pride not allowing him to see the true threat that existed. His price for power only became a reality near the end of his existence.

Biblios’s icy tentacles encircled Haraxes’s throat. Tears turned to ice as pain and inevitability became one. The tentacles encircling his body constricted all out once, crushing his esophagus, and causing his body to spasm fiercely as his bones snapped beneath his freezing flesh. His last words were never allowed to be spoken…


Anamis watched the eyes closely, waiting for that exact moment when his devil took his soul. It took longer than expected, Heraxis’s devil lavishing in his suffering. Bones crunched with sickening finality, devils laughed as souls were claimed, and heroes cheered for fallen tyrants.

Anamis walks forward and picks up Haraxes’s pact. Runes swirl up his arm, branding abyssal tattoos up to his mid elbow. He listens to the promises of a new devil and smiles only to himself. He has stolen powers before, and he will do so again…
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