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The role of the Divine in the lives of Elanthia cannot be denied -- favors, resurrection, bonding, divorce touch on everyone's life. Granted there are few outside the Holy Guilds (and few within for that matter) who are well-versed in the lore of the Gods beyond what can be found in The Book of The Immortals.
Standard Clerical Altar Visions All is darkness, full and cold, an endless Void of Nothing. And then, out of this -- a spark. A shattered remnant of a song. The coiling magic of creation swirls about you, gathering until it forms thirteen pale, perfect spheres. A ball of fire ignites the darkness, bringing warmth. The Void is rendered Whole, and thus ceases existence. With its parting, your vision fades.... Fresh white blossoms swirl about you, but when you reach for them, they melt away.... You see a pale-faced woman holding a sword in her hand and watching from a hill as a city is buried beneath volcanic lava and ash. You see a cleric standing upon a tall hill, a flood of faenrae reavers and ice wolves running past him, tears streaming down his face. The vision of a blistering sun rises rapidly from an illusory horizon, claiming the day for Berengaria's glory. Several moments pass as you stand transfixed by the brilliant image. Suddenly and without warning, the sun is eclipsed by a shadowy vulture, draping the pall of night over Elanthia once more. You see yourself reaching out silently to take the hand of Urrem'Tier, hesitating slightly but eventually you turn and walk away with the shadowy god, vanishing into nothingness. An expanse of pristine white snow stretches out before you. You stand silently, watching your breath curl up around you in clouds of icy vapor. Suddenly, you spy a pair of dainty ice fae in the distance, skipping and dancing playfully over the glassy surface of a frozen pond. You are compelled to run toward them, but seem frozen in place... You see yourself, holding a shattered body and crying gently. You see an elderly Human watching sadly from a porch as a group of young Elven children run past her. A glowing sword appears over the altar, so real and so magnificent that it holds you in awe. As you reach to touch it, however, it vanishes, leaving you grasping at a hilt of air.
A pale figure hovers over the altar, shining brighter than a star. Your eyes are blinded and yet you cannot bear to turn away. Slowly, the figure extends a hand that swirls with the scent of warmth and fresh blossoms, and you hear a voice say, "Faith, my child. I walk amongst thee, waiting for the time when anon you shall return home to me."
The image of a sneering kobold swathed in deep ebony robes manifests before you. It clutches a twisted staff capped with a fanged snowbeast skull in its right hand, its left raised as it chants an ominous incantation. A horrid vision of death and destruction surrounds you. Fields are strewn with dead, bleeding bodies, maimed beyond recognition. You stare transfixed as the bodies arise... as Undead! You see a cairn upon a hill, overgrown with moss. A beam of light suddenly shoots out of it, and you see an unspeakable shape of pure _darkness_ step forth from the cairn's shattered remains. You see a confusing jumble of images -- dead bodies pulling themselves from graves, eyes with a dark slash for a pupil, a crowd of fleeing refugees, the sound of forlorn howling.
You see a grayed skull, its jaw open. It seems to speak, saying: You see a tall, proud Human Warrior Mage, her long hair swept behind her in a severe ponytail. At her side stand two snowy white wolves, their maws dripping and their eyes a baleful red. Her eyes flash with madness, and all about her grow towering black ironwood trees. You see a peaceful village filled with halflings, each seemingly dedicated to the profession of the Empath. From nowhere, a rising tide of molten lava sweeps down over the village, completely obliterating its denizens. The final, terrified wail of the villagers is all but drowned out by the sound of insane laughter. You sense a restless spirit reach across the spaces of your mind's memory, searching, seeking, disturbed, determined. The starving visage of a man tearing his way through ice crystalizes before the vision of a dragon's sweeping wing blocks the face from your view. You see coils and coils of rope lying carelessly on the floor. As you watch they begin to writhe and twist, finally forming into the hideous shape of the Spyreweize, its maw wide open, its fangs dripping with venom. It looms threateningly over you for a moment before melting into darkness. You see a clear night sky, filled with stars. A large panther paces across the star field before rambling off into the endless, inky blackness. You see a mighty warship upon the ocean, its stout prow cutting the sea and sending multitudes of brilliantly colored fish scattering. You see a weaver deftly working at a loom, her time-worn hands playing with the weft and warp. As she finishes the tapestry, she smiles and takes it down, and you realize that the image that she has been weaving into the pattern of the tapestry is yourself. You see a towering lunat tree that has been hollowed out. Within is a great, solemn chamber. You sense endless peace and warmth here. Turning, you see a graceful unicorn standing just within the doorway. It prances off when it sees it has caught your eye, and when you turn to follow it, you find it has vanished. Peace and tranquility spread all about you, velvet and warm. You let out a sigh of contentment and close your eyes. You see a bedroom after dawn, the sunlight slanting across touseled sheets as a young couple curl up in each others' arms. You hear the cry of a baby, and see an explosion of light. A pale, shining figure appears before you, wings of perfect silver spreading behind it. "Blessings upon you, XXX," you hear it say before the darkness claims your sight again. You see yourself, holding up a laughing child and annointing it with holy oils. You see yourself laughing and holding a child in your arms. You see (random other person in room) laughing and holding a child in (his/her) arms. You see a beautiful child playing in a field of tall, swaying grasses, her parents watching from a distance, smiles on their faces. You hear the clatter of hooves upon a cobbled street, and somewhere the sounding of a horn. A voice whispers, "To battle, Mother," and then the thundering sound of hooves fades into the distance.
Misenseor Abbey Clerical Visions Dressed in a deep hooded robe, you approach the high altar. Cradled gently in your outstretched hands rests a small golden bowl, an offering of holy water for your god. As you slowly climb the dais you are filled with a gentle sense of reverence and peace. Reaching the top step you stumble causing some of the precious liquid to spill out upon your hands. Looking down in horror you see that the bowl was filled not with holy water but with blood. In terror you turn to flee. Suddenly you find yourself standing on a small balcony overlooking a vast wilderness. You lean for a moment upon the railing for support, a strong northern wind pressing your robes to your skin. The cool air is chilling and invigorates you as your senses feel renewed and keen. Looking out over the horizon your spirit feels as if it is surging with an inner power. From behind you a gentle whisper urges, "All of this can be yours." A smiling monk places his arm about your shoulder and leads you to a large room where others like him sit at a long table. Smells of freshly baked bread and cooking meats greet you. You suddenly realize that you are very hungry as if you have not eaten in weeks. The monk gestures to a seat on one of the long benches, while another places a plate heaping with food before you. A voice whispers behind you, "Come take your fill. There is plenty here for all." You find yourself in a throng of people moving slowly forward. Ahead of you is a figure, deeply hidden in shadow, sitting in a high-backed chair. The line moves forward and each person kneels before the figure, receiving a blessing. With time you move closer to your moment and your anxiety grows -- suddenly you find yourself at the head of the line. A frail hand stretches out to you.
Archrost Tainted Visions
Infuse Event Visions You see a pile of tapestries tossed in a heap before you. Some are silk, some cotton, most all frayed and faded. You reach to examine a blood red one, and suddenly you feel a sharp rake of pain across the back of your hand. You see a great black shell, cracked open like an egg. The surface of the shell is etched with strange, indecipherable runes unlike anything you have seen before. A river of midnight-blue sludge pours out endlessly from within. The image of a haggard hangman's tree shimmers before you, its gnarled branches bowing heavily beneath the weight of the many souls it has reaped. The image of an inverted red triangle on a black background flickers before you. It fades as a ghostly musical chorus swells and dies. You see an image of a three-taloned claw. Struggling within its grasp is purple-speckled dusky blue moth. A layer of crystalline frost forms over a silvered surface. You wipe away the frost expecting to see your reflection, but the surface gives way to a swirling black chasm. You see a bridge, arching like a wild ocean wave from the depths of the sea to the shore. You draw forth a blade from a sheath. Rather unexpectedly, the sword is made of jagged bone. You are jarred by a vision of an obsidian obelisk. You can discern nothing about it, as the surface is smooth and unmarred. You see a line of statues, each a contorted, grotesque, reptilian form. A vision of a black stone basin wavers before you, as several large bubbles of a viscous blood-red liquid within it suddenly expand and burst. An Elven man with pale skin and thinning grey hair sits in contemplation. His hand bears a frosted onyx cambrinth ring bearing the crest of the Cleric's Guild, and hangs limply at his side. His eyes narrow as he appears to struggle to form a decision. Milky white eyes gaze out from a face of ebon skin as dark as shadow. An unseen hand raises a scythe etched with intricate patterns along the blade over the face, concealing the eyes. With a silver flash, the vision fades. An extraordinary walkway stretches ahead, rough and fraught with protruding obstacles. You kneel to examine it and with a shock realize it consists of fused bones! A soft nagging thought fills your mind, Go Home. Go Home. Go Home. A bone-shafted spear sails through the air and with a heavy thud embeds into a wooden statue of a woman with an amble figure, her arms outstretched. A dark stain slowly spreads over her carved visage. You see a flash of deep blue velvet tapestries. Despite the lovely color and soft fabric, an uncomfortable nagging foreboding makes you deeply uneasy. A massive skeletal claw lurching awkwardly out of a briny mire sinks slowly down, groping a crude altar within its cursed palm. A blood-stained silver chalice lies nearby in the swamp, sinking ever-so-slowly in unison. A silvery shape of lined light manifests itself as a mongoose. A tall woman with pure white hair flowering nearly to her feet whispers to you, "Defend the gods always and may they guide and guard your soul in return". A gust of wind lifts her hair to flutter softly as the vision fades. You struggle to make out the words written upon a plaque. A monument to the farility and fallibility of mortal souls, the pawn here forever gathers dust." The words inspire neither hope nor relief. You are seated at a great banquet. Music filters faintly through the noise of feasting and drinking. You turn to your left to take a drinking cup passed to you, and find in your hand a twisted silver horn that is naggingly familiar. As you raise it to your lips, you realize the liquid within is hot blood, and that the beast laid before you on the table for dinner is not a boar roasted for nobles, but a slain unicorn stripped of its horn. You look to the guests seated opposite you, and find the feasting hall is full of skeletal beings, without joy or purpose. The sickly black mist of a nightmare swirls about you. You find yourself trudging through murky swamp waters. Suddenly you stumble as your next step is less solid and you sink further into the mire. You are suddenly caged within a huge claw that seizes you from below and begins to drag you beneath the murky water! Stagnant muck and filth fills your mouth as you feel yourself pulled deeper and deeper. From an all consuming blackness a pair of radiant green eyes slowly emerge, casting a sickly glow on dusky midnight-blue scales that cover a hulking body. Two deathly black reptilian wings span across the creature's back, tipped with spiked talons that glisten malevolently in the light. A gargantuan tail, thickly plated with armored scales slowly undulates back and forth. A circle glimmers before you. Gradually you realize you are gazing down into a silver goblet filled with an ebon liquid, the rim forming the circle. As you watch, you see another circle, the borders etched in indecipherable runes. Within this circle is a silver bowl, filled with congealed blood. As you stare, the goblet you hold shatters in a fine shimmering mist. A vision of a crimson mist forms before you. The mist, shaped vaguely in female form, holds a hideous amalgam of disembodied Human organs floating within it -- two eyes dangling with bloodied optic nerves, a beating heart, and a ragged coil of throbbing entrails. With a terrifying scream, the heart within begins to pulse furiously. You wake groggily from a head-pounding sleep, to find yourself lying in a coffin, wrapped in a heavy purple shroud. In alarm, you see the lid begin to descend, and raise your hands instinctively to keep it from closing. Just as the lid falls shut, you realize your hands are nothing but bare skeletal bones. You find yourself flailing in a churn of water. You try to swim, exhausted beyond reason. Battling weakly you are dragged into a violent churning funnel of water that tosses you downward. Water jams into your mouth as you plummet! Like a stone, you fall. And fall.
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