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Sins of Our Dear Father

Sins of Our Dear Father

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Through the greed of a king, an unspeakable horror sweeps across the kingdoms of mankind. The old gods have fallen as an ancient evil, long forgotten, seeks to finish what it started eons ago. Will man fall or be saved by the old gods' last gift?

703 readers have visited Sins of Our Dear Father since Asterisk created it.

Introduction

Sins of Our Dear Father [Asterisk & Lorawr]

In the far distant lands of Demacia, a Kingdom which prospered with the most advanced civilization in the known world, vast knowledge in the arcane arts, and with riches that gave way to jealously from bordering nations, a King demanded his mages to find the key to immortality. During his reign, his mind wa clouded with materials and power that he dare not give up. King Ramanastre sought the ultimate taboo that the Teachings denounced as the Forbidden Knowledge, for whomever sought the temptations of immortality would call upon such terrible tidings that generations would feel the violent force of the Teachings.

The warning was forgotten as the Royal Circle of Mages toiled to find the answer, for their reward was also immortality. The Forbidden Knowledge gave way to the practice of Dark and Blood magic alike. Subjects were stolen from their families only never to be seen again, urchins from the streets were missing from their hiding places, and even whores were taken from the streets and were soon forgotten only to be replaced by others.

The Old Gods watched with despair as they watched King Ramanastre from their Grand Cathedral within the Heavens. Signs were sent to dissuade the King, but the seers, their vessels, were killed, for their news pleased not the ears of the ruler who hungered for what no mortal was allowed. At last, the Gods looked away as they let loose their servants, the Fellous, or in mortal terms, the Souls of Demons.

Demacia was the first to burn as citizens were killed in the streets, soldiers fighting only to be torn into puddles of flesh, and the great cities of Demacia reduced to nothing but rubble. Ramanastre, distraught over the events, pleaded to the Gods for forgiveness. His cries were heard, but his greed remain true and strong. The Gods persisted.

Soon enough the scourge spread beyond the borders of Demacia and into her neighboring nations. The Gods intervened to halt the Fellous' advance, but, within their carelessness, they had released the three Arch Demons, Gods that had rebelled only to be defeated in the past. The Demons, with their surprise, fought the Old Gods and reseated them and vanquished them towards the prison of Taranos where they had lurked for many years.

Securing their power the three, Gywans, Pestila, and Gallulanos took towards the mortal world and appeared before the King and his mages and consumed them to take their form for convenience. Gywans, the original Father of the three halted before Ramanastre. Because of this King, so full of Hubris and desire, made it possible for them to return, immorality as a slave to the three to forever suffer and be their puppet was granted to him. King Ramanastre now stands within the Grand Cathedral of Demacia killing all who enter. As he stands guard, his turmoil, intentionally so, never wavers as the fault of such destruction lays with him. The Mad King who brought death through his insatiable greed.

---

In the ensuing months, the armies of every Kingdom united into one to halt the advance of the unholy beasts. However, their rampage lays unsalted while many sons, fathers, and even daughters fall in the battlefield amongst the rotting dead or within the bellies of the demons that they fight.

The Old Gods that now dwelled in Taranos wept for their mortal children. With the last of their essence, they gave rise to a pair of souls whom would inherit their strength and rival the Fellous and the three. With what little power they had, visions were sent to whatever seers they could find from within their prison. The two were to be sought out, raised in the burning flames of war, and save what little of humanity was left. With this, the Old Gods hoped that these two could correct what they couldn't. With the chosen rests the hopes of the death of the three demons, and, without hesitance, King Ramanastre.

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Avarice our primary setting

The continent of Avarice

Avarice

Avarice by Asterisk

The continent of Avarice

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Character Portrait: Desdrin von Borelius
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The Holy City of Veir. Stories about its tall cathedrals and its cleanliness couldn’t even prepare him for what he witnessed in the flesh. Being his first time, Desdrin looked from building to building in wonder. Street merchants, unlike others that he’d seen from other towns, wore the holy symbol of the old gods as they sold their wares. Guards dressed in white and red battledress stood at spaced distances. Desdrin swore he could see suspicious eyes move to and fro from underneath those elegant helmets of theirs.

“We’ve been searching for quite some time.” The hooded old man in his crimson robes — more specifically a priest — walked at a slow pace. He had shown up at Desdrin’s modest abode several weeks past near the Arcadia-Nubradian border. The Nubradian native almost mistook him as a Nubradian Seeker. “The gods spoke of a pair left behind to correct the wrongs of the mad king. Praise the old ones. Praise them that we’ve found you.”

Desdrin frowned. Their steps took them ever closer to the grand cathedral. By the gods, he was going to meet the Goddess! A deserter like him didn’t deserve such an honor. Even if he was this … ‘chosen’.

“I still believe you’re mistaken,” he said. “How could you be so sure that I am what you say?”

The old man chuckled. He heaved as he climbed a flight of stone steps. “Adhere to the litanies as much as I have,” said the priest between breaths, “you get this sense. Spiritual of course. Those who practice daily have it stronger than those who don’t. For example, take a paladin for example. There’s a … force with them that even a lay person can feel. Such is the strength of their spirituality. You, on the other hand, are something very few in the Cathedral may ever feel.”

Though interesting, the priest did little to assuage his inquiries. It confounded Desdrin as it rose a plethora of fresh questions. He noticed the old man stop as he looked ahead. There before him were two large finely carved wooden doors that towered almost to the heights of the Cathedral’s walls. The Order certainly spared no expense flaunting its extravagance.

“Here we are,” said the priest. “Whatever happens within, remain firm in your faith. We’ll see, now, if you’re truly who I claim you to be. May the old gods smile upon you.”



The priest guided him through the large chambers within. Devotional was already underway. When he fled Nubradia — even within Arcadia — the teachings had been abandoned. The land was ruled under military law as soldiers marched to the front. Each time he saw a marching column, the soldiers poorly outfitted grew younger. How many had passed away while these people knelt before the priest conducting sermons? Desdrin looked away as they exited the large chamber.

Another pair of gigantic doors stood before him. Several unmoving guards stood before it. Desdrin already knew who they were. The Inquisition’s paladins. Their deeds ran rampant in his mind as his body tensed instinctively.

“Wait here,” said the priest. He walked to the nearest guard as they exchanged greeting and words. Permitted, the old man disappeared behind the door.

Desdrin waited as instructed as he felt the eyes of the guards bore into him. His skin crawled as instincts from long past kicked in. From being out of practice, he wondered just how strong the Inquisition’s paladins were. Were they just normal guards garbed in pretty armor or worthy opponents? He entertained the thought until he heard a pair of footsteps from behind.

A woman with deep violet eyes and bronze skin walked behind a priestess. Desdrin was intrigued to say the least. He had seldom seen anyone with eyes like hers. The bronze skin was common in Nubradia. The eyes were not. She couldn’t have come from the Eastern Edge Desdrin thought to himself. Perhaps the Western or Southern Edges?

The stranger was told to wait like him before the priestess disappeared behind the doors. Desdrin blinked as his eyes turned from their normal sombre brown to a more luminescent variant of its color. His vision as well. Instead of the bland colors of normality, he saw the world bathed within bright colors. Several of the paladins appeared with the purest white while others bathed in the darkest of black. He had long since learned what the colors meant. Though he didn't remember how he obtained this ability, it had saved him on occasion. He remembered his run in with the thieves. He shuddered from the memory.

He turned to look at the woman. His intrigue transformed into keen interest.

“How strange,” he said more so to himself. She had no aura! His gaze lingered before his manners kicked in.

“Pardon me, Madam,” he said in accordance to Arcadian customs. Nubradia’s culture may be … to foreign he concluded. He looked back towards the door. “I assume we’re both in similar circumstance. Did the sister tell you why we’re here? The brother who led me here answered in … riddles. I forget my manners. Desdrin von Borelius of Nubradia. A pleasure madam.”

A few moments later, before they had time to converse, the doors swung open as the priest and priestess came back out. “Her Holiness shall see you,” said the older priest. “By their will, through her Holiness, may Avarice prosper.”

“By their will, through her Holiness, may Avarice prosper,” spoke the paladins in unison as their posture stiffened.

Desdrin merely made the sign of respect as he walked forward. His heart hammered against his chest. An audience with her Holiness. This was a chance few ever received he thought to himself.

He steeled himself for whatever may transpire as he emerged into the large audience room. Paladins lined to each side near the base of the pillars that reached from the floor to the ceiling. Each one bathed in white. The Goddess — as the Holy Order of the Inquisition called her — rested on a bright, blue crystal throne as sunlight spilled through the stain glass high above giving her Holiness an ethereal shine.

Desdrin dared not meet her eyes as he stopped at the bottom most stair and kneeled. “Through the old gods will, may Avarice prosper,” he said in greeting as he awaited her response.

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Holy Order of the Inquisition

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Avarice by Asterisk

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Character Portrait: Desdrin von Borelius

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Character Portrait: Desdrin von Borelius
Desdrin von Borelius

The cost for this cursed sight was far too great. The humor of the gods' is far too cruel ...

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Character Portrait: Desdrin von Borelius
Desdrin von Borelius

The cost for this cursed sight was far too great. The humor of the gods' is far too cruel ...

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Character Portrait: Desdrin von Borelius
Desdrin von Borelius

The cost for this cursed sight was far too great. The humor of the gods' is far too cruel ...


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Re: Sins of Our Dear Father

Hello there Subtle!

Honestly? This is a 1x1 and the roles have indeed been filled. However, I haven't heard from my partner in some time. If you're able to wait it out, I'll be sure to give you a heads up if the slot becomes available?

Re: Sins of Our Dear Father

Is this a 1x1 game, or are you still looking for characters?

If you're looking for characters, how's the whole "These two are the most important to the cause" thing gonna play out? Are you looking for support roles, obstacles? I like where the story is going :3

Sins of Our Dear Father

This is the auto-generated OOC topic for the roleplay "Sins of Our Dear Father"

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