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Conquest RP

This is my thread for posting Conquest RP logs.

BACKSTORY: Bathan had previously invited Zhiash to join his Conquest. She had requested time to think it over.

Zhiash says, "Do any of your people wish to speak with me before I make my
decision? I have spoken with Juran and Aros only. I do not recall all of the

Warily, you say, "I do not believe so. Most of them leave myself, Juran and
Aros to make the decisions .. You have come to a decision then, aye?"

Zhiash says, "I have, but I have a question first."

Zhiash says, "Are you willing to let go, to follow me without question? Would
you follow me to battle without question, without hesitation?"

You say, "I would ask the same of you. This Conquest is my ambition, Zhiash.
You are welcome to serve in it, and serve alongside me. I will follow you as
you follow me."

Zhiash floats around you slowly, light washing over you as she raises a hand to
the chin of her mask in a ponderous expression, her form blurring with her

Zhiash says, "Do you feel you can trust me?"

Bathan laughs softly, shaking his head. "I am a Knight. My lot
in life is to trust, and protect. You ought to be the one concerned. My former
master was cut down by demonic gods before my eyes. If you will share my
ambition and help me find peace in this land, I will trust you, as I would've
trusted any other of your kind." He looks down the length of a shimmering
amethyst claymore, a slight smile playing at his features.

Zhiash says, "Then you are ready to hear my decision?"

You nod your acknowledgement of Zhiash.

You say, "I am."

Zhiash says, "I accept your invitation to Conquest, Bathan. I expect to see
everyone succeed, that we will see our enemies fall before us, and will unite
the world under a single banner so that there can be peace through the land."

You say, "I am pleased, then."

You ask, "Is there some formal pact you and I are to make?"

Zhiash says, "If you would like, that would be most welcome. I merely wished to
progress to the next stage: planning where first we should test our might."

You nod your acknowledgement of Zhiash.

You say, "All who join this Conquest are required to swear an Oath. You are no

Bathan takes an intricate golden goblet in one hand and offers
it to Zhiash. "You will drink from it, and read aloud what is engraved upon

Zhiash taps her mask curiously for a moment, pondering the goblet.

Zhiash says to you, "You will be the only mortal, then, to ever glimpse my
face. You will keep this secret?"

You nod slowly.

Zhiash nods her head.

Raising the goblet with one hand, Zhiash removes her mask with the other, the
brightness of her eyes nearly blinding as her face is revealed. She delicately
raises the vessel to her mouth, a smirk playing across her mouth as she watches
you over the rim, and takes a small drink. "To Conquest Eternal," she says into
the glass before replacing her mask.

You say, "It is done, then. You are apart of my Conquest. Speak to those about
when you have the chance, speak with my voice. Instruct them on how to become

You ask, "I have duties to the Council. Do you require me any longer for now?"

Zhiash says, "I will require you again soon, yes. I have joined your cause, but
you have yet to prove you can carry out what you claim to be able. We will need
to discuss the next steps to be taken."

You say, "I concur."

You flick your forked tongue out briefly, testing the air.

‘Least I won’t have to carry it no more. You see how bloody heavy it is?’

‘Every sword’s a weight to carry. Men don’t see that when they pick ’em up. But they get heavier with time.”


  • Nice log! I hope that more entities as interesting as Zhiash start appearing in Demonic.
  • Woohoo good work!!
  • <The Cult of Conquest becoming a Sect>

    A distant grumbling thunder crawls across the firmament as clouds roll across

    the Areish.


    (Cult): Zhiash says, "The altar calls. The time has come, who would join me at

    the altar?"


    <people show up at the Altar of Conquest>


    Zhiash inclines her head toward you respectfully.


    Azefel swings his scaled tail back and forth contently.


    Zhiash says, "The altar calls, the power within it grows threatening to spill

    out if not tapped. A ritual must be held, one that binds you all together. You

    who have gathered will represent your fellows who are unable, will you

    participate in the ritual to bring forth the power of Conquest into the world?"


    You say, "Aye, I shall."


    Jaivanna Fel'Amrit says, "Indeed."


    Julianna nods her head.


    Azefel nods slowly.


    Hewn from a single piece of perfect marble within which veins of black and

    white light pulse and shimmer, there is a feeling of observation around this

    small altar, as if some unseen being were paying particular attention to it.

    Just under one foot in each dimension, it is supported by four legs carved from

    its under-side. The altar itself is inscribed all around the sides with complex

    Divine sigils which glow with a constant white light. Polished smooth, a

    perfect sphere hovers a few inches above the surface of the altar, more sigils

    carved into its surface that seem to dance and change constantly, occasionally

    connecting to the altar beneath via single shaft of light.

    It weighs about 3 pounds and 2 ounces.


    Zhiash floats around the altar, her form fading against a slowly raising breeze

    as she runs her hand against the smooth stone below the golden bowl. Her

    movement stops behind the altar, her form hovering above the ground as she

    grows brighter.


    Zhiash says, "I had much time to read about your people, to ask questions and

    study how you behave. I have seen in your written works stories of rituals and

    ceremonies alike, some magickal in nature, some not."

    ‘Least I won’t have to carry it no more. You see how bloody heavy it is?’

    ‘Every sword’s a weight to carry. Men don’t see that when they pick ’em up. But they get heavier with time.”
  • Zhiash says, "Among these rituals were those of the blood rites, blood

    brothering and the like. The practice of taking others into yourselves, and

    becoming one being, one purpose and one mind."


    The wind begins to pick up, and Zhiash's form blurs against it, her inner light

    flickering, but pressing strongly against darkness growing from clouds that

    gather overhead.


    You flick your forked tongue out briefly, testing the air.


    Julianna swings her scaled tail back and forth contently.


    Zhiash motions to the golden bowl atop the altar before her and states, "That

    is what I wish of you, to take a piece of yourselves and gather it here in this

    golden vessel."


    Zhiash says, "Your gods bled for you, they fell to protect you and from their

    sacrifice I have been given life. I ask that you give a part of your life now

    that we join together to see magick wiped from this land, and all of its people

    united under a single banner."


    Zhiash says, "With your blood, we will gather the power that lies within this

    altar, absorbed from the world around it, and we will see Conquest take solid

    roots within this world!"


    Thunder cracks overhead, tearing through the air like a battle cry as the sky

    begins to darken. The wind picks up, blowing dust across the wildflowers and

    spattered grass and shaking the branches of the barren, stunted trees

    surrounding the solid altar.


    You say, "Our Entity speaks truth, brothers and sisters. The time has come. The

    preparations have been made. All the remains is this final union before our

    holy mission begins. You have all served with faith, each aiding the cause as

    you are able."


    Bathan marches to an altar of sanctity, lifting a shimmering amethyst claymore to his open palm. A fair amount of blood spills, draining

    into the bowl atop the altar.

    ‘Least I won’t have to carry it no more. You see how bloody heavy it is?’

    ‘Every sword’s a weight to carry. Men don’t see that when they pick ’em up. But they get heavier with time.”
  • Jaivanna retrieves a dagger from her pack and carefully opens her hand with the

    tip, blood trickling to the surface of the skin and pooling in her palm. She

    holds her hand over the bowl and lets a few generous drops drip in.


    Julianna walks over to the altar and stretches her arm out above the bowl. She

    takes the dagger and slices her forearm, allowing blood to drip down into the

    basin below.


    Zhiash reaches down and lifts Altair, the black hawk from the ground, placing

    him upon her shoulder as she gently strokes his chest.


    Azefel pierces his palm with the head of his spear, slowly dragging it down and

    splitting flesh. He holds his palm over the bowl, watching his blood joining

    that of the others.


    Bathan looks to Zhiash, giving a sharp nod. "All have offered blood now."


    Zhiash gives you a nod of acknowledgement.


    You utter a deep, raspy laugh.


    You say, "It is done, then. Let our Conquest begin."


    Shadows form over the Areish as clouds writhe and darken over the mountains,

    the roll of distant thunder growling with growing power.

    ‘Least I won’t have to carry it no more. You see how bloody heavy it is?’

    ‘Every sword’s a weight to carry. Men don’t see that when they pick ’em up. But they get heavier with time.”
  • Gently lifting the bowl from the altar, Zhiash cradles the golden vessel to her

    chest reverently. She begins to glow brightly as her form absorbs the bowl, its

    metallic surface reflecting light as its contents begins to swirl within the

    form of the entity, her blue and silver light taken on a warmer hue.


    She is a radiant Entity. Her svelte humanoid form is feminine, but void of

    detail. Bluish gray skin glows with a dull inner light, and is covered in

    silvery-white patterns that twist about her body. Her face is hidden behind a

    white mask, the only features being two hairs-width black lines that run from

    brow to jaw bisecting each of the eyes. Light beams from the eyes of the mask,

    no face visible within. Wavy hair of silver curls round her head, moving with a

    life of its own.


    The liquid from the golden vessel begins to swirl into the light of the entity

    Zhiash, slowly crawling upwards and coalescing into a pulsing mass of blood

    that begins to spider through her form, as it seems to become more solid.

    Pressing her hands to he chest, Zhiash retrieves the golden bowl from within

    her and places it gently back upon the altar, still grasping its gilded edges.


    The altar begins to radiate power, an almost palpable energy hanging in the air

    as the stone grows bright with golden light. The light grows to encompass the

    form of the entity Zhiash, her own light changing in hue to match. Upon her

    shoulder, the black hawk cries as he spreads his wings, his own form being lost

    within the light.


    For a brief moment all is still as the tangible energy surrounding the area

    coalesces within the basin atop the altar. That moment is shattered as a bolt

    of lightning crashes down from the heavens, encompassing the entity and the

    altar in a blinding flash that leaves motes dancing behind your eyes.


    With a resounding crash, a bolt of lightning strikes down from the blackened

    heavens into the Areish Mountains.


    As your vision returns, you find yourself bathed in golden light, radiating

    from the being before you. The light shatters the darkness, piercing the heart

    of each of you and granting you visions of war and strife, victory and success,

    battle and comradery. You feel yourself growing stronger, changing into

    something more than a cult of individuals.


    A final burst of light drives back the darkness of the storm as the being

    before you is revealed. Held aloft by wings like ribbons of stormy night is the

    Ascendari of Conquest, encased in resplendent golden armour with elaborate


    ‘Least I won’t have to carry it no more. You see how bloody heavy it is?’

    ‘Every sword’s a weight to carry. Men don’t see that when they pick ’em up. But they get heavier with time.”
  • A burst of golden light pierces the storm above the Areish, which dissipates

    with one final peal of thunder announcing the arrival of the Ascendari of



    Jaivanna gazes in amazement at the sight before her.


    Hastati says, "Behold now, the sect that would see the world united under one

    banner, the reign of Conquest begins!"


    The peaceful form of Caelya, riding a high-strung roan mare, Aspect of Aryana

    enters from the south.

    She is followed by a wee feisty kestrel named Bazgen.


    Azefel's icewyrm makes its final strike, leaping forward onto Caelya and

    pinning her to the ground with its bulk. Slowly, itching with hungry desire,

    the wyrm draws a wicked claw across Caelya's chest, splitting flesh and calling

    blood to the surface. Its control finally breaking, the wyrm lunges for the

    wound and dives snout-first into its warm depths. With quick, forceful bites,

    the wyrm tears through Caelya's body, disemboweling her and gorging itself on

    her innards.

    Azefel has slain Caelya.


    You exclaim, "A fitting sacrifice!"


    You kneel before Hastati, swearing your allegiance to her.


    Azefel kneels before Hastati, swearing his allegiance to her.


    Jaivanna kneels before Hastati, swearing her allegiance to her.


    Hastati inclines her head respectfully.


    Jaivanna Fel'Amrit says, "How incredible. I'm glad I could attend this.."


    Gleefully, you say, "Yes, this is the power that will win us the land .."


    She is a radiant Ascendari. Tall and lithe, she is dressed in a crimson gown

    and golden armour. The gown is wide and flowing, and accented with white

    embroidery decorating its edge, and cut in a way that would maximize a warriors

    movement. The golden armour is elaborate, comprising of a piece that covers

    chest, arms and waist, and is decorated with elaborate engravings. A

    featureless white mask obscures the entirety of her face save two glowing,

    hawk-like eyes large and fierce. From her back grow two large wings, their

    feathers like ribbons of night blowing and swaying within stormy winds. Her

    hair is raven as well, flowing down her back, swaying in the same unfelt breeze

    as the wings. Where visible, her skin is dark bronze, a contrast to her

    resplendent armour.


    Jaivanna Fel'Amrit says, "I am confused, what happened to the cult? What has it



    Hastati says, "It has become a sect. You are more than simply a grouping of

    like minded individuals. You are a whole."


    Jaivanna Fel'Amrit says, "Is appears we are the first and only sect."


    Bathan rises to his feet, a wide grin on his features. "That

    is the strength of our ambition. We must be the strongest, the swiftest."


    Jaivanna Fel'Amrit says, "I am honored to be apart of such an achievement."

    ‘Least I won’t have to carry it no more. You see how bloody heavy it is?’

    ‘Every sword’s a weight to carry. Men don’t see that when they pick ’em up. But they get heavier with time.”
  • Look at us being awesome and successful in a 100% bashing event, the roleplay log looks well done.
  • Feel free to use as well to post logs and link it here since it seems the log is too long for a single forum post.
  • Yah, I'll try nogfx next time. Never used it, so I didn't even think to.
    ‘Least I won’t have to carry it no more. You see how bloody heavy it is?’

    ‘Every sword’s a weight to carry. Men don’t see that when they pick ’em up. But they get heavier with time.”
  • Totally amazing. How would you like to be a brand spanking new God figure with your own personality from scratch. So sweet. :)
    With a steady hand, Aosoth batters you with an orb sigil.
    You say, "Ow."
    You say to Aosoth, "Bitch."
    Aosoth blinks.
    You exclaim, "That hurt!"
    Lord Aosoth, of the Thirst says to Caelya, "I bring out the best in people."
  • Awesome log. A new Age with Cults and Sects unleashed for a Conquest that I'm still trying to figure out how that was set in motion. Anyways it looks cool. I want to read more of these logs.

    Date: 4/12/2013 at 16:01

    From: Sir Bathan Zran, the Oathsmith

    To : Everyone

    Subj: ------


    It's no secret that I've elected to take a leave of late. I've come to realize

    that my time was the war, where heroes truly shined. This .. Age of Mortals, or

    whatever the scribes are calling it has been a supreme disappointment. We've

    changed little, and I've not the fortitude to push forward with our agenda.

    I've no doubt someone else will step up to the task, but I can see no clear

    path to obtaining what it is we desire. Our window to strike down our foes

    seems to have passed long ago. We've allowed these other creatures to grow

    strong, while we sate ourselves on small skirmishes.

    To whomever takes up the mantle of Archon, please recall that we still owe the

    Wardens a sum of 750,000 gold sovereigns. That will need to, at some point, be

    paid back.

    Sir Bathan Zran

    You press the thumb of your left hand into the sanguine seal of the Archon on

    the back of your right, and the mark begins to glow with a golden light. As the

    seal is completely illuminated, you intone, "By my command I order you,


    The light from the seal separates itself from your hand, collecting into a

    singular mote of golden lights that winks out of sight, your command to the

    Oracle of Conquest received.

    Golden motes coalesce into a doorway of light, which opens to reveal Hastati,

    Oracle of Conquest. The door dissolves as she steps through, the motes settling

    within the feathers of her dark wings.

    You nod your acknowledgement of Hastati.

    Hastati bows respectfully to you.

    You smile and say, "You questioned my resolve at the beginning of all of this,

    Hastati. Do you recall that?"

    Hastati, Oracle of Conquest says, "I do."

    You say, "You were right, it seems. I do not have the conviction to see this

    through. My time has passed, a time of songs, merriment, fellowship. These

    times are dark, and I cannot see a road to the future."

    You say, "In short, I am your master no longer. You are free to do as you


    You have emoted: Bathan holds out his hand, exposing his seal.

    Hastati, Oracle of Conquest says, "Keep it, as a reminder. If you are not to be

    my Archon, you can at least be my friend, Bathan."

    Hastati, Oracle of Conquest says, "I regret much of our time, the doubts I had

    of you. I hope you will clear your vision and return to us some day, but until

    then, I will fight my damnedest to see your dream to fruition."

    You say, "Acceptable. I wish you and the Conquest luck."

    You flick your forked tongue out briefly, testing the air.

    ‘Least I won’t have to carry it no more. You see how bloody heavy it is?’

    ‘Every sword’s a weight to carry. Men don’t see that when they pick ’em up. But they get heavier with time.”
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