The Corpse Altar

The corpse mound from before appears to of been refined into a structure with a distinct purpose. Though no longer the crude, shambling pile of the deceased heaped on top of one another, the remnants of the dead have been rearranged to form a pyramid of sorts that scale upwards towards the sky.

The altar appears to be abandoned however. For whatever reason, its creators are nowhere to be seen, leaving the structure readily accessible to the public. For those curious of mind and with a strong stomach, upon approaching you’ll notice several crudely fashioned set of stairs have already been laid out with the bones of the victims. Each set starts at a corner of the pyramid and slowly climbs towards the apex. As for what lies at the top… it’s hard to tell without going higher.

For those that dare to ascend however, a challenge awaits them. With the first step, the cries of countless dead begin to softly echo within your mind. Upon proceeding further, the voices grow in intensity until reaching an ear piercing cacophony of the damned that numbs the mind. Your vision distorts and blurs as your legs grow weary and weak. Though you’re not entirely sure at first, you’re beginning to hallucinate as seemingly horrific visions slowly begin to merge with reality and the wall between the two states of mind quickly blends into an indiscernible nightmare. With enough mental fortitude or familiarity with this foul magic however, you’re able to stagger to the top.

An even more disturbing sight can be seen. The precipice is unnaturally flat. The floor has been inlaid with glistening white teeth from presumably the dead and are arranged to form a mosaic of sorts. In its own right, it’s a bit artistic in a sick, sadistic fashion. At the center of the leveled peak rests what appears to be a sacrificial altar made of bone. Considering the copious amounts of fresh blood that has slowly coagulated upon the religious stand, it appears to have been recently used.


Only one option may be utilized:

Hidden: Mind Over Matter

Requires Adept in one of the following: Phantasmia, Battle Shout, Fel Magic (any variation)
Your familiarity with the threat present grants you a modicum of resistance against the hallucinations. Though not enough to fully mitigate the forces at work, it's enough to at least reach the precipice while remaining partially sane.

If the first post results in a fail, players may:

• Exit the thread permanently and return to safety unharmed (edit your post with a few words about leaving).
• No, there's no second attempt.

Hidden: Path of the Damned: Not for the weak of heart...

Through sheer will power or perhaps some other means of holding on, you press onward towards the tip of the pyramid. While ascending, the voices grow in intensity as hallucinations grow more gruesome with each passing step. Around the half way point, the dead on which you tread upon appear to come to life as they rise to physically impede any further progress while condemning you to an equally miserable death. They claw at every inch of your body, seeking to add you to the victim count...

1. Roll d100 in your post.
2. A roll of 85 or higher is needed to successful brute force your way through the obstacle without the proper knowledge and skills to navigate from one ship to the next. If the first post results in a fail, players may choose 1 of 2 options:

• Exit the thread permanently and return to safety unharmed (edit your post with a few words about leaving).
  
• Proceed anyway and post a second time (no words required) with your roll(s). Failure on the second roll results in character death.

Code:

[dice]d100[/dice]

The Obsidian Chalice: At the center of the altar rests a chalice made of dark stone, seemingly as pitch black as the night. Inlaid about the entire circumference with mysterious red gems that radiate a vile magical aura, this goblet induces an unnatural shiver down your spine upon first glance regardless of your disposition towards such things. The chalice itself is teeming with a thick, dark, viscous substance that resembles blood despite its purple hue. A faint miasma can be seen wafting from the vessel.

As to its purpose, one can take a fairly educated guess upon viewing their surroundings more closely. A pair of newly deceased gnoll corpses can be seen lying adjacent to the altar. Their mouths drip with a mysterious fluid that matches in color to that of the chalice's contents...


Note: This is an event for people (one winning account per OOC player) who have yet to open a treasure chest this month (timer reset's on the first of the month). Last reset - 7/01/17.

List of Ineligible Participants:
@Theorigin
@Zero

Briefly tell a story about what were you doing up until this point, then describe how you would claim the goods inside the "chest". (300 words minimum, 500 words maximum)

1/1 Reward Claimed​

 

Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. Or so the cliché goes. Staring up at the prism of flesh, Lemming smiled and regarded it with a cool gaze and excited bounce to her step. She was growing stronger; she could feel that much. But was it enough to command the dead? No. Not yet at least. Places like this were her bread and butter on her quest to such a lofty height, however. Pyramids of pestilence and pain. Temples of torment and death. It wasn’t that the dark forces were themselves inherently evil and she aspired to equal levels of demented psychosis as… this whole display. But those without her temperament were more inclined towards such depravity, and so it was simplest to find leads by seeking out these locations.

She began to ascend, feeling at once the cries of the damned and shrugging them off as a cheap parlor trick. As she continued up however they rose in volume. Annoying to be sure, and disconcerting, but it was no worse than a haunted house soundtrack meant to dissuade her from continuing. It wasn’t until her legs buckled under her for the first time that she gasped and snatched at the ground, feeling bone and leather under her fingertips as she steadied herself. It was… warm, still. A sweat began to break out upon her forehead as she pushed that sensation from her mind, and drew her staff out from her inventory. Using it to steady herself, she continued shakily up the steps, her feet growing heavy and her vision swimming. The smell of copper and sulfur burned her nostrils and the taste of blood and bile choked her, forcing her to spit reflexively. Nothing came from her mouth though; it was merely a mental effect, a conditioning to send her stumbling down the precarious steps and away. That was a good way to break her neck, indeed! No, she had to press on.

It took great efforts, even with her own proficiency with dark magic, to make her way to the top. But once she was there she glanced at the gnolls, then the chalice, and approached it. A terrible feeling swept over her as she looked at it, and she thought for a moment of Harry Potter and the whole… Horcrux In The Chalice bullshit. Calming herself, she reached into the vile liquid to FEEL for anything within it first. If nothing was beneath to simply pull out, then she would drink the contents.

Thrown die:

12

 

Thrown die:

5

 

@Lord Lemming 's body has been remateralized at the morgue.
Click Here

 

Ash stamped down on a reflexive shudder as she caught sight of the macabre pyramid extending out of the field of Pormont. She'd heard rumors that it was a pretty valued pile of bodies, for whatever reason... Still didn't make her feel any better about it. Patrols around a pile of corpses? Never led to any good news.

How long were the bodies there? They must have begun to rot already, having been sitting out in a random grassy expanse. And yet there didn't seem to be any flies around, nor did the stench seem as abominable as she had expected. The roughly made bone stairs were... calling to her. Not through words, not really, more like through squeezing her thoughts to make her want to climb them.

Ash shook her head. She shouldn't. That altar plainly spoke of awful news. But, just like how the game moved her body without her conscious decision as she chose to cast a spell from the interface, her feet slowly began to pad over to the first of the steps.

And to think that today, all she wanted to do was go looking for some new plants to copy so she could grow them later.

As she began to ascend the bone stairway, the sensation at her mind pulled and pulled again. Her thoughts were like taffy being pulled this way and that. Parts of her brain that she didn't knew existed were assaulted, and slowly the pulling sensation began to form into words. Words she couldn't even comprehend, didn't even think they were in a language she knew. But all the same, the vile tongue called to some part of her that still ran on reflex, on nothing more than hindbrain fear.

Vsion hazy, Ash looked up. It was hard to judge distances, but she thought that she was about halfway through. But the ground warped this way and that, the limp bodies around her almost seemed alive again the way they shifted and pulsated.

There was something at the top of the pyramid, she could see it. The flattened area at the peak, the the small tiny object at the top of it. She shivered even before being able to fully make it out.

And yet, she was compelled towards it. She needed to hold it in her hands, to feel the weight of it. She had to know what was in it, had to dip her fingers in it to feel the droplets slide down her skin...

Thrown die:

38

-What was she thinking?

Ash blinked hard once, and clarity rushed back into her mind. She was standing on top of a pile of bodies, walking on a pile of bodies-

Fighting the urge to retch, Ash ran quickly down the staircase. The bodies no longer moved, but even as she ran as far as she could away from the field, she swore she could still feel their blank gaze on her.

 

The Many were as silent as the grave when Rook came across the macabre sight. It was fitting that they were considering the mass grave turning temple to something or someone unknown. They stood at the edge of the grotesque sight for a moment, pausing in their travels to heavily consider the oddity. Curiosity was so very, very tempting.

Their feet made the decision before they did. Rook moved with light steps, their incredibly small and delicate stature made for a quick arrival at the bottom of the stairs. The first step was a clue to what awaited them. The caster did not quail in the face of magic or mystery lest their life was quite obviously in danger. So the small figure ignored the screams of the damned and walked up the staircase Styx. It became harder and harder to ignore them and so Rook allowed them to speak their peace like the planar patrons did. With every whisper and every roar they could feel the press of The Sunken Tower and The Honeyed Rot and something Unknown... and something Other behind them that was farther than their mana's touch could reach. The air felt muggy with rot and decay and they licked their lips as if to test the reality of the sweet smell. The horizon wavered like heaving intestine and, for a moment, the sky seemed an endless ocean of coagulated blood.

Rook shakily made it to the top and stared at childish wonder at the floor of teeth. "Ivory inlaid, what voice is so held on high to merit this? Who is the voice that here is praised?" They muttered their words in delirium as the ghosts of corpses or corpses themselves or something entirely else rose to stop them. The small figure danced closer, shifting through them hastily and entirely ignorant to their clawed hands. At one point the caster tripped and the teeth tore their hands bloody, but they were so... interested. So intrigued. So curious. They had to see, to find, to know. He Who Spoke to Saw roared and raged and begged them to continue. They couldn't ignore Malefimancy's patron's demands to seek out the glory at the heart of this atrocity. This place didn't belong to it, it was the wrong sorts of magic and a new voice joined the fray of The Many.

Something made of starlight and nothing sang a song so loving and horrific it could have crippled them where they stood if not for the danger of doing so. Phantasmia's voice shoved aside the snake and Rook was helpless under their sweet-as-carrion-scent request. If it knew more than it was telling, Rook was unsure, but it sounded so very right when it guided Rook's hands through the Velten's mana to reach out and brush across the foul gems in a bloody caress with the mage's torn palms. The disgust and disquiet didn't stop them obeying. They drank.

Thrown die:

59

 

Thrown die:

99

 

@Rook Whisker

Upon downing the chalice's contents, your vision blurs momentarily as a cacophony of evil laughs cackles within your mind. Your stomach begins to turn and slowly evolves from a mild irritation to that of a gut wrenching terror. It feels as if an entity is trying to rip itself free from the confines of your bowels. The pain is sharp, constant, throbbing and unbearable.

Moments later, you find yourself awakening at the base of the altar, unsure as to exactly when your consciousness had lapsed. A small notification can be seen over the inventory button in the game's interface. Upon inspecting your possessions, a new object has appeared. It appears to be a special whistle of sorts...

Loot

Ramsey Ellington the Third of Alkazem, Heir to the Esfari Mantle (Elephant - Mount) A large elephant decorated with accessories of gold inlaid with a variety of precious gemstones. His tusks have been encased in gold.
Personality: Mild-tempered, conceited