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Halls of Death

AntidasAntidas Posts: 1,363Member @@ - Legendary Achaean
Post your new embrace sequences! I'll start if off with the one for @Aurora below

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Comments

  • TydasTydas Posts: 232Member ✭✭✭ - Distinguished
    @Ignika posted this one for @Ourania:

    Gripped by the cold embrace of death, you succumb to the darkness...

    Eerie blackness surrounds you; no light penetrates the endless gloom. Only a faint wind makes itself 
    known, drifting across your beaten body with a silken touch.

    With each caress of the persistent breeze your senses heighten, and a chill begins to spread through 
    you with increasing intensity. You give a violent shiver as the cold envelops your very soul, 
    crushing your resolve with a merciless bite.

    At once, the unmistakable presence of death overwhelms all else, and your stomach heaves: the stench 
    of decay is ever-present, relentless, and unforgiving. Tears run down your face as the odour assails 
    the senses, and instinctively you wipe them away.

    With one hand pressed against your nose to bar the smell, you cautiously raise the other, warily 
    feeling into the darkness with outstretched fingers. Emptiness greets you; the world is a bleak, 
    unknown wasteland, and your ears strain for any semblance of sound.

    Far in the distance echoes the faint rush of water. At once, the unbearable need to quench an 
    eternal thirst swells within you, and you turn toward the source. Without thought you submit to the 
    harsh environs, stumbling across the uneven terrain beneath your feet.

    Time becomes immeasurable as you struggle onward through desolation. Moments pass, first crawling, 
    then racing without restraint. The terrain shifts and alters beneath your feet with each hazardous 
    step. Silently you persist, eagerly moving toward satiation with unrivalled desperation.

    The tantalising sound of running water roars in your ears, now deafening in its sweet euphony. Lured 
    onward by the beckoning current, you draw closer, certain your destination lies mere inches from 
    your grasping reach.

    "Don't move, Ignika." The whiskery tones of age and wisdom crackle in the words uttered from behind 
    you.

    A sharp prod at your back causes you to turn, and you face Urdu who bears a silvery pair of shears 
    in one hand. The hunched and shrunken woman peers myopically up at you.
    "You've died, eh?" The crone mutters this mostly to herself as she draws a glimmering thread from 
    her sleeve and assesses its length, glancing at you with a scowl for comparison. With a sniff of 
    castigation, Urdu returns her shears to her belted waist and departs, "It is not your time yet." 
    echoes in her wake.

    From nowhere, a slender, girlish figure approaches you, her step is light and she bears a 
    mischievous smile. The Eternal Maiden takes your hand without a word and leads you onward.

    Youthful promise exudes from Skuld. She skips you along, bells a-jingle as the terrain inexplicably 
    shifts from barren rocky wastes to a scintillating starscape beneath her tripping feet.

    "You ended for a moment and now we have begun, Ignika. Mother shall watch." A delicate hand gestures 
    to the luminous moon high above your improbable surrounds.

    With a final laugh, Skuld releases your hand and waves a goodbye. Her tinkling chuckle resounds 
    across the sparkling vista as she fades from view.

    Warm maternal tones greet you finally, "Fear not, Ignika, for we are never alone, even in the 
    darkest of nights the Opener of the Gate promises return." A pregnant woman stands beside you in the 
    cave, her smile as much a comfort as the light of life beyond.

    A gentle hand presses at your back, ushering you forth back to life once more.
    And @Asria gave us this one for @Twilight:
    Eerie blackness surrounds you; no light penetrates the endless gloom. Only a faint wind makes itself 
    known, drifting across your beaten body with a silken touch.

    With each caress of the persistent breeze your senses heighten, and a chill begins to spread through 
    you with increasing intensity. You give a violent shiver as the cold envelops your very soul, 
    crushing your resolve with a merciless bite.

    At once, the unmistakable presence of death overwhelms all else, and your stomach heaves: the stench 
    of decay is ever-present, relentless, and unforgiving. Tears run down your face as the odour assails 
    the senses, and instinctively you wipe them away.

    With one hand pressed against your nose to bar the smell, you cautiously raise the other, warily 
    feeling into the darkness with outstretched fingers. Emptiness greets you; the world is a bleak, 
    unknown wasteland, and your ears strain for any semblance of sound.

    Far in the distance echoes the faint rush of water. At once, the unbearable need to quench an 
    eternal thirst swells within you, and you turn toward the source. Without thought you submit to the 
    harsh environs, stumbling across the uneven terrain beneath your feet.

    Time becomes immeasurable as you struggle onward through desolation. Moments pass, first crawling, 
    then racing without restraint. The terrain shifts and alters beneath your feet with each hazardous 
    step. Silently you persist, eagerly moving toward satiation with unrivalled desperation.

    The tantalising sound of running water roars in your ears, now deafening in its sweet euphony. Lured 
    onward by the beckoning current, you draw closer, certain your destination lies mere inches from 
    your grasping reach.

    All goes black and moments later, you are enveloped in shadows. Suddenly you feel lighter, a great 
    weight lifted from your shoulders. Just as you start to feel comfortable, you realise that something 
    is not right. A soothing voice resonates from deep within the darkness, "Do not fret."

    An abruptly rising, frigid wind chills you to the bone and the shadows retreat. You find yourself 
    staring into a pair of glowing red eyes and realise that before you is Twilight, Lord of Darkness. 
    Slowly you can make out the vaguest details of His visage as your vision adjusts to the surrounding 
    darkness.

    "The unfortunate fall of the Endbringer has forced Us to take this duty upon Ourselves, Asria. My 
    Brothers and Sisters, We must all play Our part for the well-being of all. Naturally, I have gladly 
    accepted this duty for I hold no grudges. Now, let Me embrace you."

    A wry smile creeps upon the face of the Elder God, and all goes dark again. A cold mist entwines you 
    as you are drawn into the shadows once more by an invisible force. Devoid of any sense of direction, 
    you soon feel as if you are falling into unseen depths, faster and faster until suddenly it stops. 
    Your heart races while your stomach turns.

    "You have died. How or why is of no concern to Me, but your fate now lies in My hands." Once more,  
    you find yourself staring into His eyes and as you are lifted up, your senses reel and are suddenly 
    filled with an overwhelming feeling of wonder.

    "I sense a purpose for you yet, and I shall grant you this opportunity."

    "As darkness was in the beginning, so shall you pass through it now and return to your mortal self." 
    The surrounding blackness flows towards the centre of the room and concentrates into a triangular 
    portal in front of you. Your eyes seem to take an eternity to refocus as the surroundings brighten, 
    the darkness receding gradually.

    You observe your shadow moving forward and as it approaches the portal, dark tendrils shoot out and 
    envelop it. An irresistible force from the depths of your being encourages you to follow and you 
    find yourself stepping forward, then running towards the darkness until you too are embraced by the 
    frigid tendrils. Burning from the inside, an excruciating pain overcomes your soul, threatening to 
    throw you into madness as a soft chuckle resonates from the distance and a silken voice fills your 
    mind: "I never said this would be easy."

    The pain subsides and you consider the possibility that it was all merely an illusion. Opening your 
    eyes slowly, you realise the darkness has vanished. Still wondering what transpired but moments ago, 
    you keep pondering the silken words of the Dark Father.
    ShaydeFarrahKyrraAereidhna
  • TahquilTahquil Posts: 3,790Member @@ - Legendary Achaean
    He dun scared you to death life.
    AntidasAereidhna
  • KryptonKrypton shi-KhurenaPosts: 2,270Member @@ - Legendary Achaean
    Antidas said:

    In a single heartbeat you see your life flash past you, from the moment of being to the most recent 

    recollection. A whispered blessing floats across your subconsciousness, "Rebirth", before the 

    lingering image of a phoenix trailing a ray of light fades into nothing, leaving you gazing 

    bemusedly around the confines of a small cave.

    Should be changed to respect gravestones.
    (Mhaldor): Herenicus says, "Apologies, I am in-and-out of hold with Verizon wireless customer service."
    Synbios
  • AsmodronAsmodron Posts: 2,168Member @@ - Legendary Achaean
    Lololololol
    AdaeleAereidhna
  • SkyeSkye The Duchess BellaterePosts: 2,604Member, Seafaring Liason @@ - Legendary Achaean
    wtf that Pandora one hahahaha


    AveriHalos
  • DaeirDaeir AustraliaPosts: 6,276Member, Secret Squirrel @@ - Legendary Achaean
    I threw up in my mouth a little bit reading the Pandora one. If there's ever been an incentive to not be a patronless Rogue, that's it.
    Halos
  • RomRom Posts: 496Member ✭✭✭✭✭ - Grand Achaean
    Eleusians seem to 50/50 get Artemis or Gaia if they aren't in an Order.
    Artemis:
    Gripped by the cold embrace of death, you succumb to the darkness...

    Eerie blackness surrounds you; no light penetrates the endless gloom. Only a faint wind makes itself
    known, drifting across your beaten body with a silken touch.

    With each caress of the persistent breeze your senses heighten, and a chill begins to spread through
    you with increasing intensity. You give a violent shiver as the cold envelops your very soul,
    crushing your resolve with a merciless bite.

    At once, the unmistakable presence of death overwhelms all else, and your stomach heaves: the stench
    of decay is ever-present, relentless, and unforgiving. Tears run down your face as the odour assails
    the senses, and instinctively you wipe them away.

    With one hand pressed against your nose to bar the smell, you cautiously raise the other, warily
    feeling into the darkness with outstretched fingers. Emptiness greets you; the world is a bleak,
    unknown wasteland, and your ears strain for any semblance of sound.

    Far in the distance echoes the faint rush of water. At once, the unbearable need to quench an
    eternal thirst swells within you, and you turn toward the source. Without thought you submit to the
    harsh environs, stumbling across the uneven terrain beneath your feet.

    Time becomes immeasurable as you struggle onward through desolation. Moments pass, first crawling,
    then racing without restraint. The terrain shifts and alters beneath your feet with each hazardous
    step. Silently you persist, eagerly moving toward satiation with unrivalled desperation.

    The tantalising sound of running water roars in your ears, now deafening in its sweet euphony. Lured
    onward by the beckoning current, you draw closer, certain your destination lies mere inches from
    your grasping reach.

    As your throat and skin tighten to insufferable levels, your vision blurs and dizziness overcomes
    you. A glimmering pool of crystal-clear water suddenly appears as though from nowhere, beckoning you
    to immerse yourself in sweet relief.

    Mustering every last ounce of energy from within, you hurl yourself into the oasis. Searing heat
    envelops your frail body as the scents of sulphur and burning flesh assault your senses. Looking
    about in confusion, horror sets in as you realise you are in a pool of lava from an active volcano,
    and the blistering skin is your own.

    Chants in a foreign tongue drown out your screams of agony as you fall through the seemingly endless
    pool of lava. The mantra grows louder, soon accompanied by thunderous stomping and slapping; images
    of tribal warriors swim about your vision, glaring at you in intimidation and disgust.

    As you pray for the excruciating torture to end, a blunt pain overwhelms you and you land in an
    unceremonious heap in a sweltering cavity within the volcano. Fiery currents of bright, crimson lava
    roil against the cracked earth and threatening to envelop you once again. Panic rises in your heart
    as you realise you are rendered immobile: hardened magma encases you, holding you in permanent
    stasis.

    The resurgence of tribal chanting and screaming grows to fervent levels, heralding the arrival of
    Artemis, the Wrath of Nature. Assessing you with a repulsed glare, She sighs in annoyance and waves
    Her hand to silence the indigenous cortege.

    Affording you Her attention, the Great Wrath mutters under Her breath before beginning to speak. "As
    you should well know Rom, the cycle of Nature can indeed be cruel. There is unpredictable ferocity
    in Nature - it is not Good nor Evil, it simply is, and will happen whether we like it or not. You
    must accept it and prepare for it the best you can."

    As She examines your sorry state more closely, Her glare softens. "The Endbringer's sole purpose in
    His existence was the Guardian, Caretaker, and Collector of the souls of the dead. He understood
    that death is simply a part of the cycle of life, and just like the Cataclysm, will come at times
    when it is not always expected."

    "If the Endbringer was still with us, Rom, He would tell you that He deems your journey unfinished.
    I will grant you the same gift, mortal - do not take it for granted, and remember that Nature will
    reclaim all that mankind has plagued and tainted."

    With a wicked smile, the Great Wrath points Her staff at you. A whirling cloud of sand coalesces,
    descending upon you in relentless fury as it churns into a cyclone of abrasive grains, knocking you
    unconscious. When you wake, you find yourself in a different cave back to the way you were before
    death claimed you. A single yew leaf flutters down from above, landing next to you before
    disintegrating in a small ball of fire.

    Gaia:

    Gripped by the cold embrace of death, you succumb to the darkness...

    Eerie blackness surrounds you; no light penetrates the endless gloom. Only a faint wind makes itself
    known, drifting across your beaten body with a silken touch.

    With each caress of the persistent breeze your senses heighten, and a chill begins to spread through
    you with increasing intensity. You give a violent shiver as the cold envelops your very soul,
    crushing your resolve with a merciless bite.

    At once, the unmistakable presence of death overwhelms all else, and your stomach heaves: the stench
    of decay is ever-present, relentless, and unforgiving. Tears run down your face as the odour assails
    the senses, and instinctively you wipe them away.

    With one hand pressed against your nose to bar the smell, you cautiously raise the other, warily
    feeling into the darkness with outstretched fingers. Emptiness greets you; the world is a bleak,
    unknown wasteland, and your ears strain for any semblance of sound.

    Far in the distance echoes the faint rush of water. At once, the unbearable need to quench an
    eternal thirst swells within you, and you turn toward the source. Without thought you submit to the
    harsh environs, stumbling across the uneven terrain beneath your feet.

    Time becomes immeasurable as you struggle onward through desolation. Moments pass, first crawling,
    then racing without restraint. The terrain shifts and alters beneath your feet with each hazardous
    step. Silently you persist, eagerly moving toward satiation with unrivalled desperation.

    The tantalising sound of running water roars in your ears, now deafening in its sweet euphony. Lured
    onward by the beckoning current, you draw closer, certain your destination lies mere inches from
    your grasping reach.

    With reckless abandon, you take a final step; the ground beneath your feet falls away into naught
    but air, and you tumble helplessly into the thunderous cascade of a monolithic waterfall. Your
    senses numb as you tear through the roiling mist and a sinister chill takes hold, choking your heart
    and grappling the very essence of your soul.

    As your eyes flutter closed in resignation, your descent abruptly halts and you hang, suspended in
    an eternal free-fall, amidst the merciless clutches of death.

    Eons pass, until time becomes nary a reverie. Slowly, the enveloping mist begins to writhe and swell
    until the surroundings are no more: you now stand amidst a haunting grotto, its flora bestowed with
    a ghostly translucency.

    Amberous spores drift through the atmosphere, petrifying into the perennial form of the Earthmother.
    She gazes upon you with a curious tilt of Her head, before sighing softly.

    "I am not one to usually interfere with the Eternal Cycle, Rom. Alas, I am forced to do so."

    "The Endbringer's duty was perhaps the ultimate gift: to grant life to those of whom fate favoured."
    The Earthmother pauses, Her brow furrowed. "His demise has the potential to disrupt the course of
    Nature for many years to come, and so it falls to Us to act in His stead."

    With a soft smile, She steps toward you and takes your hand in Her own. "It is no longer fate
    favouring you, Rom. It is Nature that heals the wounds of your body and grants relief to your soul;
    it is Nature that shall return you to life."

    The Earthmother releases your hands and presses Her palm upon your chest. The soft, slow beat of
    your heart suddenly resonates from Her touch, and with a satisfied nod She steps away. Silently, She
    traces Her finger through the air: infinitesimal motes linger in its wake, highlighting a lemniscate.

    Mere moments pass before the symbol's radiance intensifies, brightening with an enchanting light
    until extinguishing all else; the world turns to white, and your soul blooms with the blessing of
    rebirth.

    Chat with other players in real time on your phone, browser, or desktop client:
    Come join the Achaea discord!
    ExelethrilAereidhna
  • KryptonKrypton shi-KhurenaPosts: 2,270Member @@ - Legendary Achaean
    Adding Vastar for rogues:

    VASTAR

    [...]

    The tantalising sound of running water roars in your ears, now deafening in its
    sweet euphony. Lured onward by the beckoning current, you draw closer, certain
    your destination lies mere inches from your grasping reach.

    A great buffeting of wind caused by wingbeats pins you to the barren landscape.

    A great shadow cowls your pallid shape as something descends, its bulk too
    enormous to discern. Immense talons grasp your shoulders and haul you aloft,
    higher and higher in dizzying circles until you are far above the grey horizons
    of the Soulrealm.

    "Observe, [player]."

    The Skylord in all His glory hovers manifest before you, great wings bearing Him
    aloft in His element. With a grand and sweeping gesture, Vastar directs your
    attention to the swirling maelstrom of monochrome hues far below.

    "You have fallen to calamity, the Storm's influence upon your life too great for
    you to bear. But this is not escapable by death." The climactic God assesses you
    with a stern expression.

    "You will return, [player] and you will have a choice, face and embrace the
    Storm, triumph and glory in its power, or you shall wander these lands again,
    ever imperiled and hindered by its mercurial influence."

    A clap of thunder deafens you as the Skylord beats His celestial wings. Every
    aspect of your being rushes through the air, unseeing and unfeeling beyond the
    calamitous blitzing of your journey.

    When you regain consciousness, you are confused about where you are and how you
    got here. Darkness surrounds you, save for a single candle. A look around tells
    you that you are in a rough cave, with a single table bearing the candle. An
    entrance, visible because it is slightly lighter than the rest of the shadow,
    beckons from across the cave.

    Despite the tumultuous passage, your body is healed and strong once more. What
    tempest awaits you have yet to find out, but embracing the sentiment of Vastar
    and the undeniable power of the Storm you stand and depart the cave.
    (Mhaldor): Herenicus says, "Apologies, I am in-and-out of hold with Verizon wireless customer service."
    Aereidhna
  • SalinderaSalindera Posts: 72Member ✭✭✭ - Distinguished
    Vastar's is the same when you're in his order, for reference.
    LisbethaeAereidhna
  • SkyeSkye The Duchess BellaterePosts: 2,604Member, Seafaring Liason @@ - Legendary Achaean
    Now I'm curious what Prospero's one is


  • ShirszaeShirszae Caer WitrinPosts: 2,827Member @@ - Legendary Achaean
    edited June 2016
    I love Scarlatti's one

    The tantalising sound of running water roars in your ears, now deafening in its sweet euphony. Lured onward by the beckoning current, you draw closer, certain your destination lies mere inches from your grasping reach.

    As you advance forward, you realise that your bleak surroundings appear different somehow. Looming out of the darkness before you, an ethereal paintbrush begins its work, dancing through the air like it would upon a canvas tapestry.

    With each sweep of its silken tip, the darkness is transformed with a palette of colours to depict the twinkling, heavenly bodies of the night sky and a breathtaking vista of snow-capped silhouetted against the firmament. The thunderous sound of flowing water fades from audibility as wonderment and awe overwhelms you.

    Resonant laughter fills the surroundings as the paintbrush stills abruptly, the rich baritone subsiding to meld with the poignant notes of an ancient harmonic. Reverberating gently, the chords weave to manifest the Great Bard's presence, who reaches up to pluck the tool from the air.

    The refrains of a slow requiem shudders into wakefulness, eliciting a frown from Scarlatti, the Great Bard. Stepping forward, He enfolds one pristine wing about your form, drawing you unto His side. "Walk with Me, My Shirszae."

    The vibrant landscape widens impossibly before you, and each step forward creates a dirt path that trails off into the distance. Sheltered in the cocoon of the God of Art's wingspan, you temporarily forget the circumstances that led you to your death.

    "It remains a little known fact, My Shirszae, that the realms of My Brothers and Sisters lay subservient to Mine own, creations that are suffused and substantiated within artistic essence," comes the warm baritone voice of the Great Bard. "To raise an example: here in Thoth's realm, you see the bleak wasteland and the darkness that threatens to consume you."

    Scarlatti releases you from His feathered embrace but turns upon a heel to face you. Azure eyes examine your drained countenance, before He raises a hand and presses a warm thumb into your forehead. Fire erupts between your eyes, flooding your lifeless veins with a welcoming heat.

    "But I see a canvas. A canvas steeped in the history of what was, and the promise of what may be," muses the Great Bard. "You harbour the ability to change the world purely with the force of your imagination and the fury of your passion, tempered with discipline. Creation feels the loss of your artistic potential when you died, My Shirszae, but it need not remain so."

    Your veins begin to burn with blinding intensity, and the sudden surge of agony sends you to your knees. Each shade of colour appears sharper, until they begin to bleed into each other to reform into familiar surroundings. Note by note, the silvery harmonic unravels to follow the Great Bard's fading presence, and in His departure, you draw in a ragged breath and realise with a start: you are reborn.

    And you won't understand the cause of your grief...

    image

    ...But you'll always follow the voices beneath.

    YselaAereidhna
  • OmorOmor Posts: 756Member ✭✭✭✭ - Eminent
    edited June 2016
    Ashtan, orderless.


    ------



    Gripped by the cold embrace of death, you succumb to the darkness...

    Eerie blackness surrounds you; no light penetrates the endless gloom. Only a faint wind makes itself known, drifting across your beaten body with a silken touch.

    With each caress of the persistent breeze your senses heighten, and a chill begins to spread through you with increasing intensity. You give a violent shiver as the cold envelops your very soul, crushing your resolve with a merciless bite.

    At once, the unmistakable presence of death overwhelms all else, and your stomach heaves: the stench of decay is ever-present, relentless, and unforgiving. Tears run down your face as the odour assails the senses, and instinctively you wipe them away.

    With one hand pressed against your nose to bar the smell, you cautiously raise the other, warily feeling into the darkness with outstretched fingers. Emptiness greets you; the world is a bleak, unknown wasteland, and your ears strain for any semblance of sound.

    Far in the distance echoes the faint rush of water. At once, the unbearable need to quench an eternal thirst swells within you, and you turn toward the source. Without thought you submit to the harsh environs, stumbling across the uneven terrain beneath your feet.

    Time becomes immeasurable as you struggle onward through desolation. Moments pass, first crawling, then racing without restraint. The terrain shifts and alters beneath your feet with each hazardous step. Silently you persist, eagerly moving toward satiation with unrivalled desperation.

    The tantalising sound of running water roars in your ears, now deafening in its sweet euphony. Lured onward by the beckoning current, you draw closer, certain your destination lies mere inches from your grasping reach.

    An unpleasant and inexplicable sense of dread squirms in your gut. The cramp forces you to your knees and ceases your passage through the bleak borderlands of Death.

    The uncomfortable prickle of being watched causes you to shudder. A cold sweat beads on your brow and your hands clench, clammy and pale as the invisible gaze peels you apart, layer by layer.

    Shattering the silence of the Soulrealm a cacophony of noise fills your mind, "Omor" screams and laughs and weeps and berates through the recesses of your tenuous consciousness. The throng of voices delivering your name forwards, backwards, and in all the languages of the planes and beyond.

    The disturbing and tooth-filled tones continue their soft taunting, "It matters not if you perish once or a million times, you cannot fail. All will be deemed worthy at the end."

    Your mind fills with incongruous hues of gold, black, grey, and green as a tumultuous and incomprehensible vision coalesces. Before a tall iron throne the seething paroxysm churns, unendingly ravenous.

    The roiling rift fills your thoughts, inexorably drawing upon your memories to feed its incomprehensible maw. You watch inwardly, spellbound, helpless, and proned in the empty outerlands as your psyche strains with the sights it is offered.

    In a jarring shift that makes your mind scream in agony, you are thrust from the outskirts of death, and cast upon the cold floor of a dark cave, a ragdoll of loose bones and tortured mind. Tentatively, your senses emerge, peering through the remnant schisms of insanity and enable you to discern the doorway that leads to life.

    Trembling legs support your healed body and you depart the cave, unable to shake the maddening whisper of your name, the remnant of your experience.
    Omor Ceberek - Targossas

    got gud
    ReilochAdaeleAereidhnaHalos
  • DaeirDaeir AustraliaPosts: 6,276Member, Secret Squirrel @@ - Legendary Achaean
    Holy shit.
    AdaeleHalos
  • SobriquetSobriquet Posts: 1,697Member @@ - Legendary Achaean
    Daeir said:
    I threw up in my mouth a little bit reading the Pandora one. If there's ever been an incentive to not be a patronless Rogue, that's it.
    I really like the Pandora one, fits Her character very well. I'll have to die sometime to see I it's the same as an Order member.
    image
    ShirszaeGibbiAereidhna
  • TahquilTahquil Posts: 3,790Member @@ - Legendary Achaean
    From the looks of it, it's one per god. 
  • ExelethrilExelethril PhD EbonicsPosts: 3,123Member @@ - Legendary Achaean
    Sobriquet said:
    Daeir said:
    I threw up in my mouth a little bit reading the Pandora one. If there's ever been an incentive to not be a patronless Rogue, that's it.
    I really like the Pandora one, fits Her character very well. I'll have to die sometime to see I it's the same as an Order member.
    I liked Pandora's too, the "over the topness" was kinda funny.

    [ SnB PvP Guide | Link ]

    [ Runewarden Sparring Videos | Link ]
  • RangorRangor Posts: 2,904Member @@ - Legendary Achaean
    I'm converting to Gaia, I dun wanna swim in lava.
    image
    Yae
  • SarathaiSarathai Posts: 2,139Member
    Rangor said:
    I'm converting to Gaia, I dun wanna swim in lava.
    Think of it like an extra-hot spring!
    - (Eleusis): Ellodin says, "The Fissure of Echoes is Sarathai's happy place."
    - With sharp, crackling tones, Kyrra tells you, "The ladies must love you immensely."
    - (Eleusian Ranger Techs): Savira says, "Most of the hard stuff seem to have this built in code like: If adventurer_hitting_me = "Sarathai" then send("terminate and selfdestruct")."
    - Makarios says, "Serve well and perish."
    - Xaden says, "Xaden confirmed scrub 2017."



  • RangorRangor Posts: 2,904Member @@ - Legendary Achaean
    Sarathai said:
    Rangor said:
    I'm converting to Gaia, I dun wanna swim in lava.
    Think of it like an extra-hot spring!
    Will I get a tan?
    image
  • DunnDunn The great Buffalo tundraPosts: 5,376Member, Secret Squirrel @@ - Legendary Achaean
    Someone message me IG right now and I'll post Babel later. Stupid busy Saturday's.


  • NicolaNicola Posts: 591Administrator Achaean staff
    @Dunn Omor already posted it!
  • GrandueGrandue Posts: 382Member ✭✭✭✭ - Eminent
    Nicola said:
    @Dunn Omor already posted it!
    He did? He isn't in Babel's Order nor is Babel the Patron of Ashtan... how did that happen?
  • ShirszaeShirszae Caer WitrinPosts: 2,827Member @@ - Legendary Achaean
    edited June 2016
    Grandue said:
    Nicola said:
    @Dunn Omor already posted it!
    He did? He isn't in Babel's Order nor is Babel the Patron of Ashtan... how did that happen?
    Probably everyone in Ashtan gets it because its a faction Babel is heavily related to.

    And you won't understand the cause of your grief...

    image

    ...But you'll always follow the voices beneath.

  • OmorOmor Posts: 756Member ✭✭✭✭ - Eminent
    Grandue said:
    Nicola said:
    @Dunn Omor already posted it!
    He did? He isn't in Babel's Order nor is Babel the Patron of Ashtan... how did that happen?
    I thought it was Babel's, but I didn't want to call it, since I'm not in the Order.
    Omor Ceberek - Targossas

    got gud
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