Mother Anne

Touch not dear Mother Anne

The waves crashed, a foam of white,

Slowly whisking into bright light

A body of complexion fare,

A beauty with an astral stare

Her body rested upon moist sand,

A man with a wrinkled hand

Covered her with salted weed

Doing unto her a most horrid deed

When the man was through,

He threw her back into the blue

Cursing her life from after death

And found no guilt with his every breath

But deep inside the woman’s womb

Lied a child within a fleshly tomb

Who harbored hate for this old man

For tainting his dear Mother Anne

Beneath the Deep’s tender swell

Broke free the youth of his natal cell,

And waited until the man’s return

For his death did he ever so yearn

A year had passed, the child did wait

Until the man had come only to ate

The salted weed caressed his leg

And shattered it like a lonely egg

The child feasted upon the broken leg

The old man, his life, did he pitifully beg

But with the face of Anne, the elder knew

He was to be dragged into the Deep Blue

My Angelic Jasmine

From the far-off reaches of Jaleem to the enigmatic Ocean of the Unknown

Doth my love for thee extend, saturating every voluptuous mountainside

And in every coursing tributary, as I tenderly embrace thee as my own.


Thine sweet kiss fill me with an undying love towards thine sensation,

An obsession of thine proximity: to be entombed in a mania of deific delight

To which the lokir croon to our irrepressible, enduring, and cooperative adoration


Even the Lady of Myrtle, covetous of thine gaze, a deep ocean of sweet caramel

Resting underneath thine hair, as if silk and as opulently ebon as muted birds

Not even the Swan, nor the Icy Temptress, approaches near to thine mien, a remarkable miracle


From the belligerent unknowns of the Domain and the Steppe of Dejection,

Shall I perpetually resolve the impossibilities that ails my dying mother kingdom

So that we may gambol through the Valley of Flowers, in timeless and careless affection

My fair Jasmine.

-Your beloved fisherman.

Taeyara, Protector of the Willow

Author: Unknown

From time afore, there was once a child who had been placed in the Anchorage as tribute to the bears of the forest, an act of divesting from the burden of youth. Before the bears could consume the child, the vie rescued her and fostered life with their impenetrable roots. They waddled the lass to meet the Ancient Weeping Willow who fathered her and gave her a name: Taeyara.

Deaf at tongue, Taeyara instead knew the language of the winds and leaves. She lived beside nature itself and tended to its every tendril of life. With her closest of companions, Loea, a silver stag, they rode around the forest planting new seeds and mourning the passing of others.

Upon the morn of her fertility, she desired to travel outside of the Anchorage, for monotony could not teach a stone covered in moss. The Willow accepted her request, but demanded she completed a trial, granting her bow, Cometlight. This trial was simple: slay the ursine that the vie had rescued her from. A lover of all forms of life, she began her journey with doubt.

Tracking the bears to their cave, she could only find the stench of rot and two men who had jumped her, intending to have their way. Cometlight shone brightly and summoned Loea. The mighty stag gouged the putrid men and he rode the naked Taeyara out of the Anchorage.

Across many Hauian lands, she had learned the way of men. She did not like the way of men. So, she traveled to the lands where men could not be found: Baerg, G’kn’kn, Waterfront, Satyrium, and Bahra. However, she was not content, for these mortals sought only to kill one another, a view that she strictly opposed.

Frustrated, Taeyara was met by the Angel of Beauty, Jasmine. The fare angel told Taeyara that her purpose was not rooted in the blood of men. She told her to trust her Central Oculus and venture forth to the Steppe of Dejection. Only then will she find her life’s purpose and truth.

She visited a viewood in the Indigenous Plains before departing, telling stories of her prior journey and of what Jasmine had advised of her. Although they did not tell her, the vie feared that she would never again return, for those ventured towards the Steppe are lost to time forever. Although, the Willow was cheerful, for it was Jasmine who was enveloped by the Blessing of the Valley of Flowers, a gift from her fisherman who had departed for the Steppe. And, from afar, her father of wood cheered her on as she rode Loea across the Ocean of the Unknown.

After many years, she had finally returned as young as she left. She had the waters of the Blooming Fount coursing through her, thus keeping her eternally young.

Taeyara gave the Willow her blood, her fountain of youth, and died against her father’s mighty roots. Her blood soaked the clearing and turned a pale, luminescent blue. The Willow thanked Adonai for such a child. Loea and the mighty Willow mourned her sacrifice.

Then, Adonai himself descended from the Council with Jasmine at his side, anointing Taeyara as an angel. She awoke as beautiful as ever, this time with the blood of the gods coursing through her. The God of Forgiveness asked if she could serve one purpose: to protect the Anchorage and her blessing that she bestowed upon her father. Taeyara, along with Loea, then lived out their immortal lives as protectors of the Anchorage, granting presence only to they who wish to harm the vie for only moments before those ill-fated fools are met with eternal death in pursuit of their wish for eternal life.

The Drowned Doe

How youthful the doe who sits besides the sea. She of tightened skin and innocent gaze, looking past her own self and into the deep waters of Hiatum, anticipating the Mistress of the Sea’s returned scowl. She rests her tender legs upon that of a slow-moving dsis—the crab slowly fading away from life itself—and sings a song, not of the absence of love, but of mindless pleasure that which only the sots of Haui gargle as they march onto untidy cabarets.

As young as she, with beauteous visage and softened hair, she has yet to acquaint herself with the mysteries of fleshly, sinful pleasures but sang as if to commence an incantation of a being of that which would satisfy a desire unbeknownst to her. She supposed the name “Aeorn” to this fictitious being, calling—no, screaming his name as if no one where there to hear her. Her “Aeorn the Strong”, was her warrior, her knight, her guiding light, and her suffocating darkness; she could not contain herself with every utterance of his delightful name. Delight overflowed her entire body until she soon gasped with sudden relief and took upon a rest aboard the shuffling dsis, a wretched smile painting her lovely, exhausted face.

Enveloped in a beach of coarse grain, the dsis eventually collapsed and its true, occulant self woke among many of its other sleeping brethren in the Plane of the Council. It guided itself towards an unfamiliar ocean, skittering in fear like that of a newborn. Mother Hiatum rose from the foreign waters, her bosom glistening from heavenly light, and the dsis was pleased. It had nothing to fear. For it, this miserable crustacean of size like that of a horse, had finally reached the Sea of the Above, leaving the poor doe to wake up alone, the waters of the Ocean of the Unknown caressing her face that which can only compare to that of a whetted knife.

The doe awoke with salted water flowing within and without her mouth. She gagged with inscrutable language pouring alongside the ingested seawater and stood up, her clothes clinging tightly to her soft skin as though she were nothing more than a beautiful statue of immaculate marble standing before the Cerulean Keep—that which houses the Hauian royalty. Face red, chest shivering, she removed all of her clothes and stepped away from the chilled waters, where she found a tree upon which to hang her clothes to dry.

She was fancied with skin as soft and as white as the purest of snows and, much like snow, she shone with a great light, a comforting light, a light of purity that extended past the realm of existence and shook the very bones of Stu’ku. The Demigod of Wind, with perverse and childish whim, passed to her an icy wind that made her shiver with great intensity, stealing himself a chance to see her entire body, that which was once sealed, move like it would, if not obscured by mortal contrivances.

The doe felt exposed, not for that she was nude, but that she was alone, without a manifestation of her fantastical lover, Aeorn. Thoughts then returned to the idea of this false being, swaying the bare adolescent fool into a trance of desire of baseless subject. She could then no longer smell the scent of oceanic spice, but rather the pheromones that which only lovers can give off during the lighting of a passionate flame. She embraced herself, tears streaming down her face as she thus spoke the words “Aeorn” over the sound of roaring waves, which were then abruptly silenced upon this one iteration.

Disturbed by the silence, the little human looked up towards the now timid shore now blanketed in silence. The foam had settled and there lied that but a man wrapped around in nothing but seaweed, taking fetal form. As curious as prey, the doe tossed her feet against the sand and towards the man, where she began to unravel the grimy weeds off of the still man.

She abruptly hesitated. Could this be? She thought to herself, gripping one of her breasts which now panged with a slight pain originating from a series of slight strokes from the slime-ridden hairs of the rotten hazel. She had supposed that this was a result of her carnal song, a song unbelonging to such a maiden—nay, a child. She thought that the Mother of the Sea had given unto her was none other than her fantasy, Aeorn.

The foolish doe finally unveiled—unpackaged—the naked man and, licking her lips, she could not bear no more: she was to take him there upon salt and sand, as Permafrost did with Hubris. But before the lustful imp could partake in her savagery, a strong arm extended to hers and gripped tightly, breaking her ulna upon impact.

She screamed, but, alas, her cries were futile, as the doe had already been dragged several leagues underneath the surface of the ocean, drinking the salty solution of her blood as light escaped not only from above, but within her own eyes as a saltied knave of Hiatum, her “beloved Aeorn”, plunged towards the depths of the Abyss of the Below.

The Spit of Xanderiev

An exchange of letters, a personal diary, and a report detailing about the oddities that had occurred at the Xanderiev estate in Priapus, Cyprus.

The Sentry’s Diary, I

6 Ebon Frost 2309

The tiny man keeps ogling me funny. I feel the wanderer will do harm to Master Irthyn. I must study and eliminate him, if the need comes. Nieo says it’s a waste of time. The fool.

I shadowed this man down the square and tried grabbing him. But he spat at me and ran off. That fucking whoremouth. It stung. I must to dress my wounds. My wrists look like shit.

Before sunset, I left to Master Irthyn and spoke about the situation and he assured me it was to be of no alarm. Even though his words continually comforted me, Irthyn’s skepticism filled me with more unease. Who is this little Jynar?


A Letter to Jynar, I

The breath of the tormented is deteriorating, but the testing must carry on. Please, if you might, fetch me quite a few phials of morg’s blood and orcish toenails. The specimen’s phlegm has steadied the solution. The bulbs have developed healthily like the fruit. We’re closer to perfection. Keep this a secret, especially from that watchman: the one with the absent arm. He is gradually presenting the familiar signs. I will make arrangements to retrieve him once he falls under.



A Letter to Ranyj, I



The guard saw me leave the facility, he’s growing apprehensive. I’ll bring you the components come twilight. It’s too risky to head to you directly. I can tell he’s slowly succumbing to the disease, bulbs were emergent on his upper body. He had his shirt torn off. But his bulbs are glowing and dripping purple, not yellow. Haven’t seen the Black Tree produce that before. I will keep a close eye on him, but he’ll be doing the same to me.




The Sentry’s Diary, II

7 Ebon Frost 2309

I caught the whoremouth sneaking out of Xanderiev estate, carrying a sack of stolen goods. I tried chasing him, but he was too quick a louse. Also, too, ever since last dark, foul spots have been growing on my chest. The spots began to hurt like shadowflame after a while of chasing him. It got so bad that I had to stop, one of them popped and was dripping. I remember seeing a pile of ants being drowned by the strange, purple liquid that came out from my chest. I passed out after a while. I lost so much blood.

I came to around an hour later with Nieo kicking me. The fool said I had too much to drink. Nieo took me to Irthyn and he passed me a shirt and some potions to treat the spots. It made them feel better.

Before going to bed, I looked outside the window and stared at the estate until the moon dangled over it and reflected off of a window sprouting from the attic. And for a second, I could see a dark figure staring right back at me before he pushed himself away from my sight.


A Letter to Jynar, II



My gratitude for the ingredients, but be more cautious. That guard is stubborn. I’ve conjectured what could be the root of this purple “toxin”, but naught makes sense. The brute is incapable of employing magic and astute herbology. We already have enough substance to touch the whole city, but it is too soon, too evident. Do away with the guard, but make sure you are able to fathom what this purple bulb does afore taking his life.




A Letter to Ranyj, II


I haven’t seen the watchman in days. The gent who he guards seems oblivious of his presence, too. It’s unsettling. I think we should dispose of the tormented. How is the specimen? Has he decayed any further?



A Letter to Jynar, III



The tormented will stay in the Grotto and be used for testing until the ultimate provisions are met. I’ve almost gathered enough of the substance for assurance, in case anything goes wrong.  The specimen is ready for insertion, however. He will be the catalyst when the skies are clear.


As for the guard, he likely acquiesced to the infection. I have found residue of his drippings from where and found out that a family of ants have been formed from the bodies of older, dead ones that likely the guard left behind. I assume this purple liquid is the cure, though I am not sure if it cures them or revives them in a different form. He is not dead, he might be worse. The guard must perish before we discharge the poison and before he can find us. Find him Jynar. Find him and slay him.




The Sentry’s Diary, III

9 Ebon Frost 2309

My head. Pain. Woke up in gutter. Dog shit. Writing, speech bad. Wrong me? Jynar. Monkeyman. Whoremouth. Must find, kill. Irthyn must saved. No put words nice. Look in water, face mean. Covered in bubbles. Red blood. People scared. Cried hours.


Dead cat. Cut wire. Blood drip on cat. Cat’s eyes blinked. Cat walk away meowing. Found dead mouse. Blood on mouse make mouse breath. Jynar make this. Kill him.


Nieto no let me see Master. Says I sick. I kill Nieto. I no bleed on him. Master see me. Scared. Master sick. I bleed on him. Sick go way. Master face tight. Master tell leave. My sad.


Jynar make this. Jynar die. I kill. No bleed on him. I go Xanderiev. Jynar die.


A Letter to Ranyj, III



You were right! I found the sentry! He’s grown unpleasant with the boils. He’s also killed the other sentry. His master, Ithryn had also contracted the poison, but he cured it! You were right! He also does not seem to be himself and has lost a significant amount of vocal ability but has gained a tremendous amount of strength. The other sentry was torn apart limb by limb. He threw his head all the way down the alley.


I also overheard him grunting himself about the estate. I’m chasing after him now. Lock the doors.




A Letter to Jynar, IV



I spoke to his Master, Ithryn, and told him about the sentry. His name is Liyel and I told him that he is meaning to set Xanderiev’s estate on fire. I am not too sure if that is his true intentions, but it convinced Ithryn to take this matter into his own hands.


Also did you know Xanderiev had a son? Funny. I wasn’t aware he even had one.




The Sentry’s Diary, IV

9 Ebon Frost 2309

Xanderiev house not far. Scaffold fell. I let lots blood. People scream. I run. Sun run ‘way. Cold. So cold. Pain hurts. Kill. Kill Jynar.


See Jynar. Knife. He try stab, but I break hand. I hear Master’s shout. Master hold crossbow. Tell me stop. He shoot arrow. Blood spill. My head hurt. I wrap hand around Master’s neck. He stabs chest. Cold breath. I cry. I spill blood on Master. He awake and bash fists on chest. I tear head off. Master no like me.


Jynar gone. Must find Jynar. Head sleepy. Kill Jy–.


A Letter to Ranyj, IV



The sentry is dead. He killed Ithryn, but brought him back alive with his blood and then killed him again. We should let loose the poison now before his blood revives him somehow.


Ready the specimen, Ranyj. Before it’s too late.




The Sentry’s Diary, V

10 Ebon Frost 2309

Woke. Head hurt. Master dead. Jynar need die. I need die. Not til Jynar die. Leg hurt. Chest hurt. Crawled to Xanderiev. Door left open. Dark. Smell sweat. Moaning hear. Upstairs. Crawl upstairs. Find cages. Monsters in cages. Screaming. Crying. One look like Master. One look like Nieto.


I go up to Master. He attack but lock in cage. I kill him. I kill Nieto.


I find statue. Statue Xanderiev. I pick up. Wall open. Go wall. Dark. Swampy. Find tree. Tree moaning. On tree man. I touch man. He look me. Tell me about poison. Xanderiev never dead. Poison kill town. Say my blood fill with cure. He take my blood. Die peacefully.


Leave tree. Spill blood monsters. Monsters come human. Run away. Upstairs. See Jynar. Jynar talk to self. Letters floor. Letters ceiling. Letters walls. Jynar attack. I break leg. Jynar call himself Jynar, then Ranyj. Jynar spit yellow. White bubbly mouth. I pour blood in Jynar mouth. He calm. He stab heart. I pop head.


I save home. Liyel name. I save town. Maybe world. Eyes blurry. I die. Remember. Remember Liyel.


The Peculiar Case at Xanderiev Estate

11 Ebon Frost 2309

Sparrow Yino Kaine

Office of Security in Priapus


Upon the 10th of the Ebon Frost, S.E. 309, a swarm of naked individuals rushed into the Office reporting cases that they were “kidnapped and tortured”. We took each of them in, summing up to a total of 38 individuals, and inquired upon them the details of their case. They had told us that a man named Jynar kidnapped them and performed a series of biochemical tests upon them within the confines of the Xanderiev Estate, previously thought to be abandoned. Many said that the recently murdered Lord Ithryn, and son of the deceased Lord Xanderiev, was there undergoing the same treatment, despite his death by a member of his security detail who, at the time was unnamed.


Following this morn, my team and I scoured the Xanderiev Estate. I still cannot believe what I had seen. We saw the bodies of Lord Ithryn and a member of his security detail, Nieto. We found a secret passageway that led to an underground grotto where a giant, black tree with yellow berries stood tall. Beneath the tree was, shockingly, Lord Xanderiev himself lying dead with a smile on his face. We continued to look around the estate and eventually reached the top-most floor where a ladder led to the large attic. In the attic were two dead corpses and an unsurmountable array of letters, many which were just scribbles. We identified the body of the bigger corpse and found out that he was the security detail, Liyel, that killed Ithryn. The other one couldn’t be identified, but his skin hugged tightly to his body as if he was previously suffering an aggressive disease prior to death.


We removed the bodies and collected the legible letters that we found and, upon Liyel’s corpse, we collected his journal to gather evidence. They are enclosed with this report and I believe they will come as a shock.


The unidentified body was name Jynar and it appears that he suffered a dual-personality mental disorder and wrote letters to himself. He called his alternate self Ranyj and wrote to him about a conspiracy to poison the town. Examining Lord Xanderiev’s body and the yellow berries at the black tree, we find that he had lived underneath there for a very long time. He ate the berries for nourishment, but it also imbued Xanderiev with a terrifying poison that was easily accessible through his spit. He could not die from the poison, but his corpse showed that he was merely a carrier of it.


Jynar intended to kill all of Priapus with this poison, or even worse. However, his body showed signs that he was undergoing the poison as well, so he needed to act quickly. Liyel was trying to stop Jynar, as he always had suspicion for him and ended up damaging his brain, reducing his ability to speak and write. He killed Ithryn as he did not understand what he had to do and, oddly enough, his blood reacted differently with the poison and made a purple substance that would be able to cure the poison.


I suggest filling away this report as soon as it is read and documented. We already have enough fear spreading throughout Priapus as it is.


With regards,