Journal Posts

A New Begining
“Let me set the standard then, this is how you lead a charge!” The words are merely thought rather than spoken. Scar pauses momentarily letting the adrenalin race through her veins. This would be the first time she has faced the legion since her betrayal. She grips her blade and smiles, this would be a day the legion would never forget. Scar edges closer to the clearing, taking a quick look at the wooden tower and calculating its distance. She notes a few guards patrolling the top of the tower, and a small ground force about to set out on patrol. Scar reverses her grip on Stone Breaker letting the gigantic blade hang low and to her right, then steps out into the clearing.

Silently she sprints through the darkness passing the ground patrol easly, coming upon her target completely undetected. Still in a half run she swings Stone Breaker in a wide arc, smashing heavily into the support leg of the wooden tower. The feather light metal fullblade cuts cleanly through a third of the wooden support. In a blur of motion she swings again, bringing Stone Breaker in line with the weakened side. Wood fragments rot, freeze, and explode outward as the sinister blade cuts cleanly through the rest of the support leg.

Scar smiles in satisfaction as she watches the tower crumble before her. Figures on top are thrown to the ground below, with rocks and broken boards set to break their fall. Only one guard manages to recover from the fall, but her swords ends any chance of his escape.

The ground patrol is quickly dismembered as her companions come out of hiding. Crusher, Sanquine Solaris, and Harbek making short work of the soldiers. Necks break, throats are torn out, and minds are shattered as the four worked in unison to break their opponents.

Together they shattered the outer parameter of the first legion with ease, and this was only the beginning.
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Chapter 11: Harbek's Return
Harbek had returned. After escaping the temple of the preservers, he followed the kreen toward South Ledopolus. It was there they were ambushed by the 1st legion, commanded by Praetor Durok. They were forced to backtrack and by dumb luck crossed paths with the party.

Ignoring the obvious solution of fleeing, the party instead chose to infiltrate the 1st legion's camp to assassinate Durok, gather supplies, and do what they could to slow down the legion's advance. The kreen took Hargo, Malla, Kelek and Rhona on toward Celik, and the others prepared their assault.

Scar spent time practicing with her newfound blade; a weapon that Solaris was highly suspicious of. The others didn't seem to care much.

When night fell, the party made their advance. A quick assault on the legion's makeshift watchtower provided them with cloaks and gear to disguise themselve sas legionnaires. Once in the camp, they separated into three groups: Crusher and Solaris went to sabotage the slave tents; Scar and Harbek planned to free and spook the mounts and back beasts; Sanguine made for the Praetor's tent.

All went mostly according to plan. Scar and Harbek caused all manner of chaos with the stormlizards and trihorn behemoths--two of which they opted to keep as mounts for themselves-- while Crusher and Solaris set much of the camp ablaze in the night. Sanguine had succeeded in gaining entry to the tent, but unfortunately set off the templar's alarm spell. He smiled as he summoned his Shield Guardian -- a massive construct made of various furniture and armors laying about his tent.

The others could hear the magical alarm and made a strong push to aid their ally. Harbek and Scar used their mounts to break through much of the tent while Crusher and Solaris occupied the 1st Legion's Prelate, Lanius himself.

It was a mixed battle; while the party was doing well, Lanius and his vanguard were slowly gaining ground. It was only when Durok cast some sort of teleportation ritual that all hell broke loose. The tent erupted in flame and legion dragoons were swarming about the place. A few well-placed distractions later, and the party made their escape to one of the silt-skimmers. They quickly attached the behemoth to the skimmer and made for a ballsy escape. As they pushed away, they could see the destruction behind them. Tents caught afire, one of the skimmers toppled over. Storm lizards attacking all around them. It was pure pandemonium.

Below deck, the party found enough supplies to get the party to Celik with room to spare. It was refreshing to see a plan come together so nicely. A day later, the heroes regrouped with the kreen and their friends. Harbek bid farewell as he restarted the journey northward (or was it southeast?). With any luck, they'd cross paths again...

Until then, The heroes had more pressing matters. The legion would only be slowed for so long...
Session: Session 40!!!!!!!! - Sunday, Aug 04 2013 from 7:00 PM to 1:00 AM
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Chapter 11: Went Through the Desert on a Kank With No Name
Anamis Black is dead. Supplies were dwindling at best. The heroes were beaten, burdened, and exhausted. Their best-no, only hope was to scavenge up what they could and push on. That is what they did.

Had any of them believed in the gods, they might have given thanks when they encountered a lone traveler on a rage drake. She called herself Scar, and carried enough supplies that the party could at least comfortably travel for a day or so. She was also an expert at exploration, and provided all manner of tricks to avoid being ambushed, surviving the extremes of the desert, and tracking down sources of food/water. She was less good at spotting ambushers, however. They had Pak'Cha for that.

The dune reapers leapt in from all sides, cutting down any within reach. The biggest nearly killed the kreen, and proved a reasonable match for both Scar and Crusher together. The others focused on killing Solaris, but were undone by Malla and Sanguine's teamwork. When all was dead, the party gained themselves some scavvy and pushed onward, hoping to find a nice place of rest.

One cannot imagine their joy upon finding an oasis in their pathway. Solaris, Pak'Cha and Scar moved to get drinks despite Sanguine's warning... A warning that should have been heeded. The oasis itself appeared to lash out and attack the heroes, while nearby a pair of giant megapedes assaulted them from both sides. It took every ounce of skill, perserverence, and blind luck to survive the attack. In the end, however, Crusher stood over the broken body of one megapede, while Malla and Pak'Cha finished off the other. In a fit of rage, Crusher leapt into the oasis and began striking out at the filthy creatures causing the illusion. When finished, he stood in a muddy slurry over the broken shells of necrotic oasis bugs.

Before they could rest, however, they were set upon by another group of travelers. Harbek smiled as he came into view, "Well, look at these morose mekillot's here."

Session: Session 39 - Sunday, Jul 28 2013 from 7:00 PM to 12:00 AM
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Chapter 10: The Temple of Amut-Ka
The priest of Amut-Ka turned to address the heroes, "An age has passed since the awakening of Amut-Ka. With these two sacrifices, I shall bring forth my goddess and restore the green. You are welcome to witness her revival."

Anamis drew forth his blade as Crusher readied for a fight, "This ritual is nothing but defiling magic, friends. Save Rhona and Kelek! Let's burn this dead priest!"

As tired as they were, the party rallied to save their friends. Malla and Hargo kept the mummy slaves at bay while the others tried to break through the skeletal minotaurs and hellions. It was a bloody, vicious, and destructive battle. The heroes held their ground, but suffered grevious wounds before finally approaching the mummy lord. Anamis and Sanguine focused on the mummy while Solaris used his mastery of the way to disrupt the ritual. When he finally destroyed the link between Rhona, Kelek and Amut-Ka, the temple itself began to buckle and weaken. Summoning up what little strength they had left, the heroes grabbed up their fallen and forced their way out of the crumbling temple. Before they found the exit, however, the entire temple erupted in a deluge of sand.

When the dust settled in the wastelands, all was quiet. Pieces of kank and scorpion lay about the place. Littered on the ground were the spoiled remains of the heroes' supplies. As Crusher and Malla climbed out of the sand, they confirmed the fears that Anamis did not make it. Sandy pulled Solaris free, and the rest slowly drew themselves forth.

When Sanguine saw what became of her companion, she tried to turn him using her blood. repeatedly cutting herself and spilling blood into Anamis' mouth; it was all in vain. Malla simply embraced her friend as the others looked to find shade from the sun.

They were almost completely out of supplies and still in no condition to travel. Solaris set about making camp and the heroes opted to rest until everyone was able to get moving. Nearly two days were spent binding wounds and mending the weak. In that time, Crusher fashioned himself new armor from the remains of the scorpions, while Solaris worked with Malla to gather up what food and water they could find. What started with the heroes trying to determine when they would reach Tyr will now continue with them trying to determine if and who will reach the free city...
Session: Game Session: 38 - Sunday, Jul 21 2013 from 7:00 PM to 12:00 AM
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To Protect the Fallen
Solaris looks around the darkness, dust filling his vision and reducing visibility drastically. He seeks to move only to have the shifting sand suddenly surge and threaten to overtake him. He quickly shifts the loads he is carrying, Sanguine over one shoulder, Rhona over the other and tries hard to regain his footing as he starts to slip under the shifting sand. You cannot give up, You cannot fail her. With a sudden surge of effort he is able regain his footing and stand up and continue the arduous trek to the temple's entrance, sand continuing to build up. His steps surely become slower though and the sand continues to rise. As darkness begins to overtake him his only thought is still to not give up, to not give in.


The last rays of sunset play softly over Solaris's face and he slowly opens his eyes. It had been nearly a full day since the temple had fallen apart and been consumed by the sands surrounding it. It was by a sheer source of luck that he had been close enough to the entrance with his burdens that the shifting sands swept him clear of the building, only for those same sands to bury him. Again though providence seemed on his side for his inix quickly dug him out. He rose from his sleep and patted Sandy on her flank as she looked at him. "I owe ya for that one girl, Don't let me forget." The inix chuffed slightly as though in agreement before laying her head back down. He stepped out of the slight depression in the ground him and the inix had been resting in and stepped over to the fire that Mala and Hargo were tending, wondering if he might be able to check on Sanguine and see how she was doing.
Session: Game Session: 38 - Sunday, Jul 21 2013 from 7:00 PM to 12:00 AM
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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 Light in the Darkness
Solaris spits a light amount of blood and looks around, doing a quick check of everyone. They are bruised, they are battered and they are tired beyond measure. He simply grins and tightens the grip on his trikal and gives a simple order, "We move!" Pride fills him as each and every member of his squad, from the initiates to the veterans, stand up and ready their weapons before moving forward, simple determination to not fail masking their fatigue. To give up or to fail would spell the death of the others counting on them, something none of them would willingly allow to come to pass.


Solaris suddenly came to consciousness in mid stride as they walked through the temple, Kalinth quickly and smoothly transitioning 'control' to him as they moved. Rest well? Solaris merely consented as they walked, despite still feeling overwhelmingly fatigued. We may very well die in here Kalinth... Happens to us then? Kalinth's silence was surprisingly long and Solaris thought an answer would not be forthcoming when suddenly thoughts of fear and worry filled his mind followed by an unnerving response, I don't know. All I know is that we'll be together when it does happen...

It was at this time that they reached their destination, A open room in which Rhona and Kelek were bound stood before them. Solaris noticed a creature in the center of the room suddenly begin to draw energy from them both and tightened the grip on his trikal. We cannot allow failure to come to pass Kalinth... I know. I am with you Solaris, now and in whatever may come to pass.

Solaris suddenly feels Kalinth marshal all of his psionic energy and notices a ghostly corona appear around him, one that grows denser and more solid by the moment. Soon there is suddenly a ghostly visage of a albino dray clad in armor surrounding Solaris, a dray Mala and Hargo Vole both recognize as Kalinth.

Solaris readies his trikal, Kalinth's visage matching his movement's perfectly, as Pak'cha disappears and reappears in a flash of speed and psionic power, his intent to strike the first blow clear. As Pak'cha readies his strike Solaris and Kalinth shout together, "We move!" as the battle begins.
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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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Hey, those are mine!
Battered, and beaten, Pak'cha stalks through the silty hallways, thinking to himself ad he carefully works to avoid any traps possible, trying to fight off a feeling of dread with every step he takes.

(Why would I travel with such soft skinned fools? Barely posting a watch, and working to save two that are not even worth the food they carry, let alone the lives of those they travel with...

What could have happened? Why do these idiots act as though they know me? That big dark one knows something of The Way. And he knows one of -my- katas, something he could have only picked up over time- if I had trained him. Strange. Why does his ugly face make me feel at peace? They are so very ugly. With those... Flappy things on their faces. And all that soft pink skin..)

His thoughts break off as they step into a wide room, and he catches scent, and then finally sight of the fleshy hatchlings. A fleshly form bundled in rags gestures, and energy begins to pour from the two they sought, into his clearly dead body.

"Stop! Those two are mine! Pak'cha snarls in common as he smoothy rushes forward in a flurry of motion brought about by small touch of Power. Arms extended, he draws upon his Mastery of the Way, energy pouring from his body, though he can barely stand. A blindingy blue white light encases his entire shell, and he lets out an echoing bellow, discharging the energy that would have fueled his lower attacks in a wide wave, in an attempt to disperse the energy sapping the life from the idiot weaklings.

Without pausing to see if his plan worked, he draws on the last of his energy stores, lightening crackling over his legs. He teleports, leaping between spaces in the soon-to-be-now, until he comes out behind the ragged form. Unleashing everything into his attack, his body uncoils, one hundred and ninety pounds of highly trained, lethal fury lashing out with every ounce of power at his disposal, until a tall skeleton lurches forward, jagged horns slashing forwards even as he begins his attack, certain to hit him.


A memory comes to Pak'cha, as he attacks, the world falling away slowly to nothingness as the past embraces his mind.

He's a much younger bug, and his Clutch surrounds him. Each of them is training, under the ever watchful eye of their Master, and owner Wilhand "Swiftfists". Pak'cha feels his body flow through one series of motions, and into another- a simple combination of attacks that would not only be effective, but had the flourish, and style needed to appease the crowds in an arena fight.
Wilhand appears, gesturing for Pak to come at him, and attack. Obliging, Pak'cha moves with smooth grace, his practice moves almost instantly becoming deadly arcs of flesh as he kicks out at his Master.

A few instants later, Pak'cha hits the dust, for the third time in as many seconds. A laugh comes from his mentor, who bows simply, the offers him a hand to rise. "Commitment is key. If you're not sure you should be throwing a punch, or landing a kick, then why are you even considering it?" The shorter human and the bug face each other, then sink into a seated position. Pak's Clutch move to seat themselves in a short semi circle around the human, full attention given.

"If you aren't willing to give your life to land a strike, then there is no reason to be throwing it. From the weakest of beings, to the most powerful of us- you should never attack unless you're willing to accept whatever it costs to land that attack.

We'll stop for midday, and rejoin for this evenings lesson.."

Pak'cha comes back to himself, mid-strike- wondering once again where his clutch could be, and why he feels deep regret panging hollowly in his chest... He then remembers everything, his mind focusing once more... and remembering the horns aimed at him, and thinks to himself
(Shit... Not again..)
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Chapter 10: Bed Bugs Bite
Session: Session 37 - Thursday, Jul 11 2013 from 12:00 AM to 5:00 AM
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Of Cabbages and Kings
The road to Tyr will be long and dangerous, but at the same time, for some reason, I find solace in the idea of returning to where my nightmare began. All at once I am terrified and fascinated. Ever since my experience in the forgotten temple and the brief time spent in the presence of my own kind, I have felt something within me awaken.

No, awaken is not the right way to describe it; perhaps since then, I have simply stopped trying to fight the ruddy-shadow cauldron of power churning inside me. I have come to accept what it is that I have become and let it's icy-hot concoction pulse through my body like andrinalin fueled blood pumping through a predator closing in after a long chase.

What-ever the case, for the first time in, well ever, my head feels like it is starting to clear. This new found clarity brings with it several realizations:

First, in order to continue to move forward, I must put the past to rest. I have already began to take steps towards achieving this by way of revealing that I know were the group can lay it's hands on a very substantial amount of wealth. My family's vault will entice the others, and once there I can finally bury that part of my past. Conquering that fear will be a boon to us all anyways.

Secondly, the powers I have unleashed have been growing by leaps and bounds. For the first time since I left the gray I am more powerful then I was then. These changes are more then just the physical prowess I have relied upon, my supernal charms and iron-willed domination are coming into their own. No longer must I rely on my body's glass sabre fortitude to survive. That said, I can instinctually tell that I am rapidly approaching a whole new magnitude of power; I am nearing the next stage of this curse-power, and already I have one arm over the edge pulling myself up. I am on the precipice of joining my elders in magnitude of power.

Thirdly, and to some surprise, I have come to realize that I no longer need Hargo. Now I don't mean this is a negative way, but what he once was to me, no what I once needed him to be, is no longer necessary. I can remember so much now that has been lost to me, such as the supposed ennui of the immortals. I can remember, as a girl, boggling at the idea that there would be a downside to living forever, to having literally all the time in the world. How could one run out of things to do or goals to achieve? What was it that I, as a young fool, could not understand? It was that immortality comes at a price. The need for blood, the affliction of the sun, the constant need to cover my tracks, are just the simple ones. Like the tip of a rock jutting out of the estuary, there is a whole root that one cannot see from just a casual glance at it.

Just as with the rock, there is so much more to it. Some times I feel as if I am as unchanging as the stone and those around me are like the silt blowing by. We sit by the fire and have breakfast together. I at my normal pace and they are all around me like swirls and blurs in a silt-storm and suddenly they are all impatiently waiting to get going and I have hardly touched my meal. I look up at their faces and struggle to recognize them. I blink and the world shifts. New wrinkles, a small rasp in the breath, a heart not quite as young and strong as it was before I closed my eyes. They are marching through time to their deaths and I am trying to savor the taste of that morning's bacon. Do they not notice the small wonders around them? Do they just not care? Or are all people, on one level or another, rushing towards oblivion because that is all they can hope to do? If that is what they call life, then perhaps my curse is also my blessing.

Coming back to the topic of Hargo. The reason I saved him that fateful night was simply because of a whim. That is all there is to it. I was bored and he was interesting. I didn't recognize it at the time, but much of what I did back then was to fight the ennui, for it is the true slayer of the immortal. Hargo was a fun little toy that would sing and dance so I could laugh and clap. Now this sounds horrible in retrospect, but it isn't really as bad as it sounds. On some level I am sure I was pulling strings, but I didn't do it out of malice, it is just who and what I am. I needed him to keep me going. Even when things took a turn for the worst between us, was it really because I was scared of what might have grown between us, or was it because I was afraid that I was growing bored? Thirty years of reflecting on this I can say it was because I was afraid that I would grow bored, and he would simply grow old and die leaving me alone again.

So I took the only option available to me; I ran. And I ran for literally decades, somehow believing that if I kept moving the dust of time could not settle on me. In the end though, I grew bored again, and like the child that I am, came back for my favorite toy. Working for Hargo has been much different then our relationship in the past, but he seems to hold our friendship in little regard. I do not blame him for this. I left and he went on to have a life, but just as he was able to live on without me, we can live on without him. It seems that soon we will have to renegotiate the nature of our association. He has grown older and weaker and I have stayed as I always am, while at the same time growing into so much more. Now we are I say that because I wish to spare feelings, I am his better. Again, I do not say this with spite, it is just the new reality of this relationship, and it is time for all to recognize this. It is time for my friends and I to be the ones calling the shots and taking the cuts. All previous debts have been paid in full with interest.

My only fear is: how long will this new paradigm last before the others too are claimed by the inevitable march of time and I am again alone.

For them there is no escape from the grindstone of time, and for me there is no escape from the millstone of my own ennui. All we can do is laugh or cry.

For now I think I will laugh.
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Always a price fo these things...
Pak'cha's mind wanders through an unfamiliar void. Where once there was a constant buzz of instinct, and the voices of his hatchling clutch now there is only painful, utter silence. His mind casts outwards, searching for familiar ground, but unable to find any. The usual layering of thoughts gone, his mind screams in agony, unused to the emptiness.

Painful words echo though the bug thoughts, booming loud in the empty place.

“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…”

"Always a price for these things..."

"Always a price..."

"(Always..) a price..."


Pak'cha stirs, suddenly painfully aware of his surrounds, strange though they are. He glares briefly at those around him, then flinches as a brief gust of air throws sand over his feet. "Wh..where am I?" The tall bug asks in tired Kreen, looking at Crusher wearily. He clicks his mandibles softly, then asks again in Kreen. "And who in the blazing sands are you all?"
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Chapter 10: Brohg Douches & Sunwarped Rednecks
Session: Session 36 - Sunday, Jul 07 2013 from 7:00 PM to 12:00 AM
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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