Current History

Setting: Vitaveus, Year 1350 — The Age of Fracture

Three decades ago, the world changed forever. The Torment — a horrific, soul-consuming plague — emerged in the Republic of Decus, once the pinnacle of culture, faith, and knowledge. It devoured entire cities, twisting its victims into Afflicted husks, mindless and murderous. Civilization crumbled. The Republic fractured under the weight of its own Enlightenment. Now, the Republic fights on three fronts: Against the Torment itself, clawing at the heart of the Midlands.

Against the Resolve, a cabal of mages and necromancers blamed for unleashing the plague.

And against itself, as law and faith erode, and civil unrest rises.

In the shadows of this collapse, the fallen capital city of Tor — the First Province — has become a magnet for the desperate, the brave, and the greedy. Rumors claim the lost Archmagi left behind a cure. Others seek truth, revenge, or fortune. You are among those drawn to this forsaken province — to write your own Requiem.

Choose your origin story. Align with one of the major Republic factions: The Church, Templars, Apothecary Corp, Legion, Forlorn Hope, Foundry, Consortium or VIC. Your application and quarantine visa determines where you begin — and what influence, reputation, and housing access you hold within Penitence Valley.

Reputation system is now released. Everything is earned through RP. Faction, action, and consequence will define your standing. Faction alignment, player choices, and moral standing will now deeply affect your path forward. Loyalty to Naum and his divine cause? Republic allegiance? Forlorn Hope sympathizer? Or something more self-serving? Your reputation precedes you—and will shape every door opened or closed.

Major and Minor Quests unlock access to PV amenities, different regions, deepen your reputation, unlock Major Storyline Events and unravel the province’s mysteries.

This is the quiet before the Schism. How will you shape the fall… or rise from its ashes?

Our ancestors came to these lands a millennium ago, under the behest of the One True God, the ever-divine Archangel Decus, He Who Saved Man. For it is the Archangel who sacrificed his own immortality to give to the World of Man the tools to shape our destiny. It was our forefathers divine duty to bring the world and blessing of Decus across the face of Eden as repayment to Decus’ sacrifice. We do not forget that it was none other than the Archangel who sacrificed himself for the good of all Mankind to bring to the world the Truth, and it is in debt to Decus’ gift that we, the descendants of the First City, Temple, continue to worship him as the One True God.

Our world was once a place of darkness and despair. Our ancient ancestors had lived in utter ignorance while horrid monstrosities, the Ill, ravished our twisted lands. Our homeland, known to us as the Birthplace, suffered for untold centuries at the hands of the Ill and their minions. The great creator of All That Is and Was, known to us as the Mason, had turned a callous gaze upon his creations, leaving the World of Men to fend for themselves in a world of chaos and pain.

Yet not all hope was lost, for their had been other creations of the Mason, the Archangels, whom took to watching over the World of Men in their father’s stead. And among these divine creatures one did dwell that we revere as our God and Savior, Archangel Decus, He Who Saved Man. For Decus’ compassion far surpassed that of all his brethren combined, so much so that he sacrificed his own immortality and power of creation to walk amongst the World of Men in the flesh. With the Archangel’s coming came the dawn of a new age of Man, for He had given to us the knowledge of a thousand generations.

With this new-found knowledge did the Templar emerge to forge a new age for all mankind. Sworn servants of both Man and of Decus, the Templar purged the Birthplace of all that was Ill and unjust, bringing enlightenment and the graces of Decus to all. In but a few decades, the lands of the Birthplace were transformed from blight and danger to a place of sanctuary, all in part to the sacrifice of the One True God.

When the time had come for the One True God to finally succumb to his own mortality, he had left his Children but one request; to bring forth the Truth and all of it’s blessings to the rest of the World of Men. And so did our forefathers, the First Templar, did take sail across the vast seas and oceans of our world, leaving the Birthplace forever to bring the blessings of the Archangel to the far corners of the world.

Vitaveus is the first foreign land that our forefathers brought the word of the One True God to, or so the Old tales do tell. Once a land of primitive tribes and savages, our Faith has brought to this great nation civilization, safety and prosperity; gathering all of its peoples under one flag, one nation, and One True God. Over the past millennium, faith has shaped this great land into a place that the Archangel himself would approve of. Our great and divine Church had ruled benevolently over all aspects of modern life, ensuring that our forefathers divine crusade continued on throughout time immemorial.

Until recently, our great kingdom had been on the verge of a renaissance. The ever powerful Church reigned supreme over the lands of the Venerated Republic, ushering an era of enlightenment for all men. New mechanisms harnessing the fledgling technologies of steam and blackpowder were slowly being developed all over the kingdom for the benefit of all mankind. Poverty and famine had been nearly eliminated in all but the most remote territories of the kingdom, and the Republic’s mighty military force, the Legion, assured that no corner of the land was left unprotected from would-be highwaymen and criminals.

We had believed a golden era was upon us. Sadly, we were wrong.

The Torment, the debilitating scourge that has claimed millions, struck the land like a thief in the night, quickly and silently. The mysterious plague ran rampant through territories both large and small and across all corners of the kingdom. Thousands were infected with the mysterious blight within weeks, the forsaken sickness claiming not only the lives of all it touched, but their minds as well. The afflicted, as we came to call them, were stricken with madness and insatiable rage before succumbing to death or euthanasia. In those dark days, many of us looked to the Church for salvation, clinging to the hope that our infallible benefactor would find a means to save us from the horrors of the Torment. As the world as we knew it spiraled into chaos, many of us believed that our dire situation could not get any worse.

In droves, the victims of the Torment rose from their eternal slumber, with all of the rage and unholy madness they possessed before death. Like some great leviathan, hordes of the dead rose from mass graves all across the Republic, descending upon the already weakened kingdom with unbridled prejudice. Those claimed or even wounded by the abominations shared the same fate of their assailants, losing both their sanity and humanity in mere hours.

Within months, the kingdom had succumbed to anarchy. Entire territories fell to chaos, many due to the afflicted and Tormented hordes and their murderous zeal, while others collapses due to civil disorder. The Legion did it’s best to maintain order where it could, but the Republic had quickly become a land divided. Where the plague had not struck, peasants turned marauders had. What sparse territories that could be defended from the dangers of this new, dark world became havens of safe refuge, whilst the majority of the kingdom turned into killing fields.

This day marks nearly thirty years since the dead began to walk, and our once great Republic is but a mere shadow of its former glory. More than half of the kingdom has been lost to the Torment, and creatures of legend and folklore, known to us only in stories as the Ill, have begun emerging across all corners of this tainted land. Yet even more disturbing are the tales of the great betrayers, a cult of men and women who proclaim to follow the ways of the Old and herald the word of Truth. Known simply as the Resolve, it is these forsaken souls whom have claimed responsibility for the blight that is the Torment, all in the name of tearing down the New and restoring the world to the ways of the Old. Having disappeared nearly thirty years ago after unleashing the Torment upon our mighty kingdom, whispers speak of their ilk stirring in the far western reaches of the lost lands of the Republic – no doubt preparing to deliver the killing blow to our dying people.

Yet hope, albeit fleeting, can be found even in the darkest times. Rumors have spread throughout the land of salvation waiting to be claimed within the confines of a fallen territory of the Republic; the First Province. The former capital of the Republic and eldest territory of the entire kingdom, the Province had fallen to the taint of the Torment nearly two years prior, and lays abandoned since. As unlikely as the rumors may be, laymen across the Republic speak of relics of the Old that lay hidden in the confines of Tor, the fallen capital. How or why these tales have surfaced is anyone’s guess, but the truth behind them cannot be denied; if there truly is anywhere in the Republic that such ancient, concealed knowledge may lie, it would be within the ruins of Tor.

There are but a scant few adventurous souls within this decrepit world that would even dare the trek to First Province, for the journey alone is no easy feat. Even still, brave men and women from across the land can be seen making their way towards the fallen land. Some make the treacherous trek for glory, some for treasure, and others for reasons all their own. And some, however minuscule, follow their faith, hoping beyond measure that the key to this world’s salvation lies in wait for them.

Whatever their fates may be, one thing can be certain; this world of ours is upon the precipice of outright destruction, and to sit idly by is to tip it closer to the abyss.

Praise be to the One True God, praise be to Decus, and praise be to the brave and the bold.

– Seraph Templar Eileso Saimros (deceased)

Chapter: I

It has been nearly fifty years since the first afflicted appeared within the lands of the Venerated Republic of Decus. The ruinous byproduct of the plague known simply as the Torment, the Afflicted have reduced the world of Eden into ruin. For five decades, the Torment has plagued the lands of Vitaveus, equating to nearly two full generations of the deadly scourge wreaking havoc across the known world.

Two generations worth of misery, death, and destruction; two generations worth of madness, chaos and suffering.

Two generations worth of watching and waiting as a world upon the precipice of apocalypse slide closer and closer towards the final choking breaths of existence.

Yet to truly appreciate the End of Days and the hopeless predicament the world of Eden finds itself within today, one must go back to the beginning – the origins of the Torment, of its’ victims, and of course, its’ creators. And like any truly entertaining tale, our story begins with humble beginnings; for what appeared, at first glance, to be nothing more than a simple flu evolved into something far more sinister. The Venerated Republic of Decus, the grand benefactor and superpower of the known world of Eden, paid little heed to the fledgling days of the mysterious sickness that would later become known as the Torment. Embraced within a veritable renaissance of technological breakthroughs and cultural achievements, the Venerated Church, the monolithic ruling faction of the Republic, had never known a worthy adversary for over thirteen hundred years. Dismissing the Torment as but a common illness to be extinguished easily by the ingenuity of the Republic’s top minds, little effort was put in to handling the peculiar sickness with the severity of a plague

Embraced within a veritable renaissance of technological breakthroughs and cultural achievements, the Venerated Church, the monolithic ruling faction of the Republic, had never known a worthy adversary for over thirteen hundred years.

And, alas, such pride would be the undoing of the Republic proper. When the wretched disease had truly blossomed in its unholy glory across the lands, it had appeared that the gates of Hell itself had been opened upon the face of Eden. Countless thousands fell to the Torment in the first year alone, for the sickness did not discriminate; men, women and children had all been claimed with equal prejudice. While countless millions had simply perished due to the Torment, there had been some that had survived the initial stages of the disease – and in turn, had been subjected to a fate worse than death itself. For these forsaken souls, known colloquially as The Tormented, had turned to feral beasts, blinded with madness and rage, turning upon friend and family like wild animals. Rending their brethren countrymen from limb to limb, those unfortunate to succumb to the wounds of a Tormented would in turn become afflicted with the ungodly disease themselves. And so did the propagation of the true nature of the Torment begin; thousands upon thousands of forsaken souls cursed to spread death and disease across the Republic, their weapons of destruction not the torch or the sword, but the tooth and nail.

In the early days of the outbreak, the great Church desperately scrambled to keep order in a kingdom tainted with madness. The Apothecary Corps. worked tirelessly in an effort to understand the unholy sickness. The Holy Decusian Legion and Church Templar, the two arms of the Republic’s monolithic military mighty, were dispatched far and wide across the Republic to keep order in states that were stricken with the sickness. Most all of these efforts, however, were in vain. Where the Torment did not strike directly, its effects were felt indirectly through rioting and famine. Entire cities fell to chaos. Those states and territories that could be saved were quickly placed under martial law, while most other areas were simply lost to the wake of the Torment. In a mere six months after the first outbreaks of the Torment, nearly a quarter of the Republic has been already abandoned or lost.

The following year did not bode any better; as epidemic turned to pandemic, the Venerated Church could only watch in horror as entire city-states fell to the groves of those infected with the terrible sickness. The Torment and those afflicted with it spread like wildfire through the countryside of Vitaveus. Flooding across nation and state, town and territory; millions believed it was truly the End of Days. By the time the Church could properly utilize its forces of Templar and the Legion proper, nearly half of the continent had devolved into frenzied madness. Death ran rampant through the Republic, and millions had succumbed to the chaos which ensued.

And in the midst of this ever-encroaching darkness, this time of doubt, misery and the questioning of faith, yet another revelation emerged. For thirteen months to the day that the first known reports of the Torment emerged within the Republic, a mysterious entity arose, claiming the title of the Republic’s saviors. Inconceivably, this collective claimed to be true to life warlocks and witches; Magi, straight from the tales of Old. And true to their fantastical claims, they indeed possessed the power of what could only be described as Magic. They performed feats of unimaginable power throughout the Republic; creating food from thin air with the uttering of but a few words, healing the lame, giving voice to the mute, bestowing sight to the blind, and other veritable miracles unimaginable to the layman of the Republic. Those who would dare to raise fist or sword upon them were struck down by the fires of the arcane, and as easily as simply murmuring a few words.

For thirteen months to the day that the first known reports of the Torment emerged within the Republic, a mysterious entity arose, claiming the title of the Republic’s saviors. Inconceivably, this collective claimed to be true-to-life warlocks and witches; Magi, straight from the tales of Old.

Their greatest feat, however, had not been the miracles they performed upon the crippled, nor the ease in which they dispatched their foes. No, for their greatest power had been that of a blessing and a promise, a solemn oath to any that would seek to follow them in lieu of the Church that failed them:

Immunity from the ravishes of the Torment.

And like the rider upon the pale horse, they had indeed been capable of fulfilling such a promise; for their power was so great, even the deadliest plague known to man could not pose a threat to them. And so many elected to follow these mysterious saviors, seeking refuge among their ranks as an escape from the certain death of the Torment, swearing their fealty to these demi-gods of power never before witnessed upon the face of Eden.

Yet these supposed saviors were an evasive and suspicious lot. Their customs and methods were foreign to even the most backwater citizen of the Republic. Whilst proficient in the common tongues and languages of the lands, their native language was an amalgamation of sounds and phrases that had never before graced the modern world of Eden. And most disturbing was, when asked of their names and titles, these mysterious souls would offer no customary reply - for they did not consider themselves individuals. Instead, their answer was a simple yet cryptic phrase that would forever live in infamy…

“We are the Resolve.”

Chapter: II

The Resolve. How does one introduce the story about the most destructive entity the world has ever seen? The tale of the Resolve is one of betrayal and of wickedness, something that could very well be mistaken for fantasy, if the effects of their reprehensible deeds had not still been felt to this day. What is known of the Resolve is somewhat scarce and limited, but what information that is available paints a truly horrific picture.

In order to truly understand the Resolve, one must understand the world of Eden before their arrival. Before the Torment and the arrival of the Resolve, the idea of “Magic” in its most traditional sense was largely regarded as folklore by the layman. Across the thousands of cities and villages that comprised the Republic, the concept of magic was something that very few people put any credence into. While referenced often in the canon lore and literature of the Decusian Church, the common man had no reason to believe such fantastical Old tales were true; there had been no evidence to suggest mystical and unseen powers lay waiting to be wielded by those willing to pursue them. As such, magic and the arcane had been looked upon simply as allegories to great strength and fortitude of the founding elements of the Church and society.

Across the thousands of cities and villages that comprised the Republic, the concept of magic was something that very few people put any credence into.

It was this lack of faith, so to say, that the Resolve had preyed upon, for their arrival in the Republic was met with wonder and awe. Each member of the collective, of whom only thirteen had been seen at any given time, had been a veritable master of the arcane, wielding powers only ever dreamed of. With this fame, the Resolve set out upon a show of power that solidified their reputation as miracle workers. They moved from city to city, territory to territory, performing nothing short of wonders. Where the Church had failed to devise any sort of protection from the Torment that had been raging across the Republic, the Resolve had been able to immunize those willing to follow them with but the utterance of a few words. Their acts of benevolence quickly spread through the Republic, and with each city they visited, more and more joined their ranks as willing followers. As the year 1313 drew to a close, thousands of citizens had abandoned their lives within the Republic to join with the mysterious collective, many out of simple fear of the Torment, and some out of the desire to learn a mere fraction of their knowledge of the arcane.

Of course, it did not take long for the Church to grow discontent of the actions of these mysterious magi. The act of miracles and, of course, the wielding of Magic had been the domain of the Church for millennia – to suggest otherwise was pure blasphemy. For the only known and acknowledged practitioners of magic, in the Church’s eyes, had been the founding Templar of the Decusian Church nearly thirteen hundred years past. With each sighting of the Resolve, envoys of the Church were sent to demand that the powerful magi to share their knowledge and power with the Church under pain of death. Yet each request was met with refusal, for the Resolve had no interest in acting benevolent to the Church. With their hand forced, the Church had made a bold but necessary decision. In the city of Allamarone, a bustling trade city seated in the heart of the Midlands, an entire chapter of Church Templar, coupled with a full Clergy of Inquisitors had been dispatched to stop and detain the blaspheming Magi and their heretical followers. A force of nearly four hundred men strong, the Templar and Inquisitors represented some of the most well-trained and well-outfitted soldiers the Republic could spare. Infused with zeal, the Church’s forces moved upon Allamarone like an army laying siege, surrounding the Resolve and their traveling caravan of followers with ease. Yet their lack of humility in the face of such raw and unimaginable power would be their undoing.

The act of miracles and, of course, the wielding of Magic had been the domain of the Church for millennia – to suggest otherwise was pure blasphemy.

In but one single hour, more than three hundred Templar and Inquisitors fell to the power of but a dozen and one Resolvists, all as the collected thousands within Allamarone watched in abject horror. The wonton unleashing of death and destruction upon the hundreds of assembled Templar and Inquisitor forces had been nigh unimaginable. Onlookers had gone on to describe the scene as something out of the Old texts – a truly overwhelming sight to behold and fathom. After a hasty retreat and medical triage, less than fifty men of the original four hundred would survive the ordeal.

It was with this unabashed display of raw power (of which would later become known as the Slaughter of Allamarone) that the attention of the entire Republic had been cast upon the Resolve. Capitalizing upon their infamy, they continued westward across the Republic, fleeing the more civilized and powerful territories of the kingdom all the while bringing thousands within their folds. And as 1313 faded into history, so did the Resolve. Their exodus across the Republic had brought them far west, into portions of the kingdom that were referred to as the “Blacklands”. It was here in the Blacklands that the Torment had struck most violently, mostly due to the lack of infrastructure and overwhelming Church presence. Civilization was actively collapsing in these Blacklands, as many cities and states had been overrun by the Torment months prior, and Legion and Church forces were scarce and scattered.

And as mysteriously as they arrived, they had vanished. The Resolve, with their following of faithful, disappeared into the Blacklands in those last days of 1313, never to be seen again; yet it would not be long before they were heard of again.

Chapter: III

As the Republic came to know the Resolve’s awesome and terrible power in defeating nearly two entire outfits of Church forces, the Ecclesial Authority would respond in kind; not only against that of the Resolve threat, but against any and all whom would dare even consider wielding the powers of magic and the arcane. On Paedrig’s Day of 1313, a formal decree issued by the Venerated Church’s Council of Bishops was made; magic was considered a blight against one’s own immortal soul, and any whom dared to practice it would be subjected to execution without trial or jury. In mere days, word of this decree traveled far and wide across the far reaches of Vitaveus. What would soon follow would be the literal slaughter of thousands of Republic citizens at the hands of both the Church, the Inquisition, and even the laypeople of the Republic itself. Those that were known to study the art of the arcane were slain in the streets and alleys of the Republic, often by the hands of their own neighbors.No consideration had been given to the fact that the average arcane user’s prowess over magic had been infantile at best; if one was known or even suspected of having dabbled in the arcane arts, their life was essentially forfeit. The Church, its’ Templar along with the fabled Inquisition Corps, now roiling with excitement and bloodlust over the declaration of a “crusade of this generation”, wasted no time in bringing forth “divine justice” to those that, only a week prior, had been the very people they had been oath-bound to protect and serve. Homes, farms, shops and property of suspected magic users, now simply referred to as “witches” by those of the Cloth, were burned to the ground. Those even thought to have been associated with witches – witchkindred – were often executed in the streets as well. Only when time would permit, these collaborators would be treated with what would become customary treatment of those suspected of witchcraft: crucifixion or being burned at the stake. Literature concerning the arcane had been further deemed illegal and immoral by the marauding Church forces, and it was burned in great pyres whenever and wherever it was found, with those found in possession of it suffering a similar fate. This frenzied Inquisition against magic and the arcane had reached across every corner of the Republic, lasting for nearly two months, and was punctuated in many areas with civil unrest, rioting, rampant property damage, and other collateral crimes against humanity. This period of unrest would be come to known as the “Purge of the Witchkin”.

During the horrors inflicted upon Republic citizens during the Purge, the Resolve took a grand opportunity to make their intentions well known. In each city that the cabal had made their presence within during their trek across the kingdom a year prior, those supposedly blessed by their mysterious powers of Miracles had become stricken with misfortune. Those that the collective of warlocks and witches had healed of the turned feral and mindless. Grateful souls that were cured of blindness were stricken with horrifying visions of otherworldly creatures, speaking of dreadful sights of daemons and Ill. Those that were bestowed the gift of hearing were damned with voices beckoning them to commit atrocious deeds upon their fellow man.

Yet it was the mute whom had been chosen to deliver the Resolve’s true message to the forsaken Republic. Across the Republic, thousands of the misfortunate whom were blessed with the supposed Miracle of Speech raised their voices in unholy unison, their cacophony revealing the true nature of the Resolve’s deceit:

“The End is Nigh for the Children of Decus; may their Torment sew the seeds of the New World”.

The Church, its’ Templar along with the fabled Inquisition Corps, now roiling with excitement and bloodlust over the declaration of a “crusade of this generation”, wasted no time in bringing forth “divine justice” to those that, only a week prior, had been the very people they had been oath-bound to protect and serve.

Following the Church’s inquisition against witchcraft, a considerable void was left within the Republic. The Resolve, now having seemingly vanished into the frontier lands of the Western Territories, proved to have had been an unassailable force of unfathomable power. The Torment continued to ravage the Republic, with every alchemical and apothecarial treatment devised by the Foundry and Apothecary Corps proving to be ineffective. Magical practice and even research had been deemed wholly heretical, despite that the only known cures to the Torment had been that of the Resolve’s incantations of protection and magical spells of healing. With the Republic burning, it had become begrudgingly and painfully aware to the Ecclesial Authority that an understanding of magic was vital to the survival of the Decusian peoples, not simply for divining a cure to the Torment, but out of fear of the Resolve one day returning to conquer and subjugate an unprepared Republic with the super-weapon of magic, of which no match to existed within the armories of the Decusian war machine.

While it was an inarguable fact that, surreptitiously, select Chapters of Templar and cloisters of those within the Authority had been engaging in the state-sponsored study, documentation and perpetuation of magical practice for countless centuries, their prowess over the mystic arts were but a fraction of that seen on display by the Resolve. Furthermore, such work towards the mastery of the arcane arts could not be relegated to the shadows if any true progress was to be made – only a minute portion of the population had appeared to be “attuned” to be able to practically use and harness the powers of magic. Thus, the Church had turned to the millions of laypersons whom, just months prior, they had hunted with impunity for the mere speculation of practicing magic. A new bureaucracy would be required – one under the purview of the Church, but seemingly independent from its influence. This bureaucracy would walk the fine line between seeking salvation of the Decusian peoples form the threat of the Torment and Resolve while also keeping ever-in mind the lessons learned from the Act of Blasphemy, the infamous event that had been responsible for deeming magic heretical and a threat to the eternal salvation of mankind in the first place. A new faction would be thus be birthed, under the close supervision of the College of Bishops; a collaborative of enlightened minds whom would research, develop and perfect the magical arts; this collaborative would be come to known formally as the Consortium of Mages.

Magical practice and even research had been deemed wholly heretical, despite that the only known cures to the Torment had been that of the Resolve’s incantations of protection and magical spells of healing.

As 1313 came to a close, a new day and age of the Republic had come to pass. A kingdom divided, both literally and figuratively, constituted the New Republic. With the western half of Vitaveus considered Blacklands, the Eastern Baronies were but a shadow of their former self. The Church, whose favor and power had never been so solidified since the days of Old, reigned over every aspect of life with an air of authoritarianism never before witnessed. Following the Darkest Dawn, a tentative sense of order had been regained, paid for in the blood of tens of thousands of citizens. All across Vitaveus, even the most progressive Decusian reverted to their faith; for if such a thing as Magic existed, undoubtedly the other stories of Old were not folklore, but accounts of reality in the flesh.

And thus, the word of the Church had now been unquestionable. And it was with this unquestionable word that the Church did rebuild the ailing Republic, solidifying its’ control over the Eastern Baronies, shoring up the borders of the Midlands, and in but a few short years, setting its sights farther. By 1315, with the Baronies under firm martial control, the Church now focused its attention to reclaiming control over the entirety of the Midlands, intent on reclaiming absolute control over the continent by any means necessary.

Chapter: IV

Blood streamed down her face, yet she did not seem to notice. The heavy golden armor, boasting proudly the embossed emblem of the Decusian Holy Legion, protested against her fatigued body. Her arm writhed in excruciating pain, undoubtedly broken in more than two separate places. Her body pleaded with her to yield, yet her mind knew better than to concede; to stop was to die, die like the others, die like everyone else in this god forsaken world called Eden…She would survive, however she could. It was her will.

The midnight storm poured rain down upon her that had blurred her vision, yet what lay ahead of her was unmistakable. Billowing flames reached high into the heavens, licking the storm clouds in defiance, resembling an insolent child in midst of a tantrum. Despite the disturbing scene, she felt relief; for escape from this gauntlet of horrors lay just within reach. She staggered, tripped, and hobbled, nearly losing her footing in the soft mud beneath her.

Various buildings and charred rubble lay in a small meadow no more than a half mile away. What was once a small village was now engulfed in flames, the heavy downpour having little effect on the raging inferno. The scattered buildings had been nothing more than hovels and shanties, a collection of shacks that comprised one of the many humble farming communities that littered the Midlands’ rolling countryside. Now, it was naught but a graveyard; a place where the dying had bid their final farewell to the cruel land of Eden and went on to the worlds that lay ahead.

She knew this to be fact, for Legionnaire Alana Morgan, Twelfth Battalion of the Twenty Fourth Vesica Brigade, had been personally responsible in helping assemble that graveyard. For this particular village had been situated upon a stretch of land on the wrong side of the Badlands line, and thus, anything found breathing was to be considered a threat.

Considered…afflicted.

Suddenly, the screams erupted behind her again. The familiar feeling of adrenaline flooding her body returned, and she managed to increase her pace. Her legs burned with pain and her arm exploded in writhing agony, yet she continued on, for the sounds of screams quickly turned into the sounds of footfalls; footfalls closing in behind her. Terror filled her heart and soul, daring not to look back. Her entire Company had been decimated in this god-forsaken shithole, and undoubtedly, they were now behind her amongst the undying…the unliving. The cold midnight air burned her lungs, pleading her to stop.

More voices joined the unholy screams as Alana pawed at her armor, attempting to loosen it from her person. Only through her ragged gasps of breath had she begun to realize that her own guttural screams had joined the choir of voices that pursued her. Just as a frantic set of footsteps grew in volume over her right shoulder, she managed to jostle free the buckles holding her pauldrons in place; plates of tempered steel slid free from her shoulders and arms, tumbling into the soft mud below. Her pace quickened as she heard the clatter of the armor make contact with one of her pursuers, the footfalls turning to a loud tumble and labored scream of anger.

Her entire Company had been decimated in this god-forsaken shithole, and undoubtedly, they were now behind her amongst the undying…the unliving.

Sensing a momentary second of reprieve, Alana worked to manipulate the leather bindings that held her cuirass firmly to her chest, and allowed herself a quick glance behind…

Seven figures gave chase to her, sprinting at full speed. They were no more than fifty yards behind her and were gaining quickly. The moonlight did little more than illuminate their silhouettes due to the storm churning above, yet the visage was enough of a sight to strike fear into the deepest recesses of her soul. With trembling hands, Alana loosened the cuirass from her chest, shedding it off like a discarded shirt. A hopeless scream erupted from deep inside her, and somewhere, she found the strength to run even faster.

Rounding the village, she could now feel the heat of the raging fires upon her blood-soaked face, and, distantly, a sound that graced her ears like nothing else could. Approximately fifteen horses had been tethered to a large Yew tree upon the northern outskirts of the former village, and now they stood no more than a hundred yards away. One in particular had caught her eye; a sorrel stallion neighing in angered protest of the storm above. It was her Company commandant who thought it to be wise to scout the village and farm on foot, mostly as to avoid getting a mare’s foot stuck in a rabbit hole or soft patch of mud. Consequently, it was a tactical mistake that lead to the ambush and subsequent deaths of her entire company. Ironically, it may be the one thing that could save her yet.

She quickened her pace. She passed burning embers and the ruins of what were once homes. The scent of burning flesh pierced her nostrils, yet she paid little attention to it. Her voice was coarse, and her legs burned. Escape lay just in reach, and as she reached the Yew tree, her eyes locked upon a silhouette sitting with its back against the tree’s trunk. She recognized the figure as the young recruit they had picked up back in Taltha, a young teen with strawberry blonde hair and freckles lining his nose. He was assigned sentry duty in order to keep an eye on the mounts while the others scouted the meadow and farmland for the afflicted. Upon hearing Alana’s labored approached, the teen suddenly stirred to his feet. It had not taken long for him to make out the half-dozen or more figures giving her chase, and the teen stammered impotently about, his legs paralyzed in fear.

Yet Alana wasted no time. Her shaking hands grasped the leather tether of the sorrel stallion that caught her eye moments before, straining to untie it. The horse neighed and snorted, as if as desperate as Alana to leave as well. The young sentry was still petrified, unsure as to what to do. He rushed to the Alana’s side, only to be answered with incomprehensible babble and a sharp push, sending him to the soft ground below. It was only when Alana’s pursuers wailed their ungodly screams that the teen realize what was truly at hand. He scrambled madly for the nearest tethered mount, clawing at the hemp bindings with shaking hands.

A sheer sense of terror filled Alana as she manipulated the rope from the stallion’s neck, scurrying to mount the steed. To her right, the sentry fumbled with his own attempts, yet to no avail; his shaking hands had naught the dexterity to unfasten such knots in haste. The afflicted that had given her chase for more than a mile now were no more than fifteen yards away, parting the high grasses of the meadow in pursuit of the injured Legionnaire, the scent of blood filling their nostrils and frenzied lust driving their every move.

Consequently, it was a tactical mistake that lead to the ambush and subsequent deaths of her entire company. Ironically, it may be the one thing that could save her yet.

The sentry screamed, looking to Alana. He turned on his heel, making a sprint towards her, his arms outstretched in pleading terror. The grasses surrounding the Yew tree parted, and from within came spewing forth the afflicted ones; her former comrades, now mindless husks driven by one simple emotion;

Rage.

Without thinking, Alana whipped the steed to the left, striking off in a gallop. In one moment of sublime chaos, the scene had all came to a crashing climax. The sorrel stallion Alana sat upon neighed in both fright and surprise as the sky above cracked with ear-shattering thunder, all the while the screams of her former brethren coalesced into a blood-curdling rapture. Yet despite the cacophony of madness that filled her ears, Alana could make out one last distinct sound above the rest of the chaos; a gurgling, wet cry that that she would never forget for the rest of her tortured life. It was the sound of blood racing into the undeveloped lungs of a young man that would never see the age of fifteen; one that would never lay with a woman, or lay claim to his own land. It was the sound of surprise, terror, and agony.

It was the sound of death; it was the sound of abandonment.

Chapter: V

By 1320, the continent known as Vitaveus, home of the Venerated Republic, had been divided. Maps of the continent pre-dating the Torment displayed, quite proudly, a single unified nation of numerous territories and states that had stretched across one mighty landmass. By early 1320, however, cartographers had begun to paint a new picture of the Republic, a land divided not by war or political agendas, but by famine and death. Upon this map had been three boundaries, each with its own story to tell.Upon the eastern side of the continent lay what was known as the Eastern Baronies. This collection of states and territories represented the culmination of the Republic’s culture, faith, and technology, and it was from here where the roots in which the kingdom grew from centuries ago. The eldest and most influential cities in the Republic had been located on the eastern side of the continent, branching outwards from the Republic's former capitol of Tor, known colloquially as the First City.

The Eastern Baronies had been rendered relatively safe as early as 1315 by the combined efforts of the Church, Legion and Inquisition. Before the Torment, the cities of the Baronies were strong and powerful in their own rights and, for the most part, were able to contain the Torment during the early months of 1313 as well as the events following the Darkest Dawn and the Witchkin Purge. Coupled with support from the Church and Legion, the Baronies were spared much of the horror witnessed in other parts of the Republic. By 1320, life had been tolerable in these areas of the Republic, if not for suffering the authoritarian rule of the Church, overcrowding in most all of the larger Municipalities and city-states, and the occasional food shortage due to disruptions in the supply lines from the Midlands.

Most of the eldest cities in the Republic had been located on the eastern side of the continent, branching outwards from the coastal capitol of Tor, known colloquially as the First City.

Somewhere between the Western Territories and Eastern Baronies laid thin designation of land that had stretched many thousands of miles, reaching from the northern mountains to the southern coasts of the continent. This area was known as the Midlands, and it was here that the first efforts in retaking the lost lands of the Republic took place. By 1320, the Midlands were still a chaotic and dangerous place, serving as the veritable border between the civilized and safe sections of the Republic, and the Western Territories that had been hit the hardest by the Torment. Most all military units in the Republic that were not tasked with peacekeeping in the Baronies had been commissioned to the Midlands to secure a foothold. This foothold would serve as a base of operations for the grand task of exploring the Blacklands of the Western Territories, both in an attempt to recover the lost portions of the Republic as well as to hunt down the Resolve. Additionally, the Midlands served as an imperative strategical asset to the Republic, for without their workable arable land and the significant amount of agricultural products it produced, the Baronies would collapse under it's own unsustainable needs of food.

As for father west, little information concerning the fate of the Western Territories was available in 1320. Handfuls of refugees had occasionally made their way into Midlands between 1315 to 1320, harboring tales of horror and madness; where the Torment hadn’t claimed lives, lawlessness and civil unrest had. What little presence the Church and Legion had in the Western Territories prior to the onset of the Torment and the horrors that followed had been futile, as most battalions had been cut off from orders, supplies and reinforcements since the middle of 1313. The Western Territories were, essentially, a no-man’s land, a portion of the civilized world that had succumbed to anarchy, plague and chaos. Where little bastions of order did remain, they operated without the official guidance or procedure from the Church proper.

By 1320, the Midlands were still a chaotic and dangerous place, serving as the veritable border between the civilized and safe sections of the Republic, and the Western Territories that had been hit the hardest by the Torment

When asked of the Resolve, the only answer refugees of the Western Territories could ever give had been that they had gone west, farther and farther into the horizon, leaving a trail of misery and destruction behind.

Intent on both re-securing the lost territories of the Republic and to track down the insidious cult, the Church and Legion worked diligently to fortify their positions in the Midlands, and to prepare to embark on a crusade unlike the continent had seen since the ancient days of the Reclamation. By 1324, the first expeditions were made into the Blacklands of the Western Territories by battalions of both Church Templar and Legionnaires. These expeditions would continue for nearly an entire decade, yielding little gains and offering even more losses. Yet there had been some headway; for with passing year, a scant few towns and territories were retaken, the veritable frontlines slowly moved farther and farther west. Slowly but surely the campaign to reclaim Vitaveus sauntered forth, deeper into the ruined lands of the Western Territories and in to the unknown. By 1322, it had even been believed that one day Republic forces may even reach Angelspire herself; a monolithic construction seated in some of the farthest reaches of Collatia, a territory deep into the Western Territories, and for many, represented the idea that the Republic could in fact reclaim order and reel back from the edge of anarchy.

In the year of 1333, however, that belief had been crushed by a peculiar report from a collection of Republic colonies far to the east of the continent of Vitaveus, situated upon a chain of islands known colloquially as the End of the World…

Chapter: I

Nearly twenty years after the Torment had emerged within the territories of the Venerated Republic, scattered reports of curious happenings far to the east of had emerged. These reports originated from three distant territories set upon a collection of landmasses known simply as “The End of the World”, the farthest lands ever explored by Republic expeditions. Only three meager territories had been erected in these peculiar lands, mostly due to its inaccessibility from Republic forces proper. These holdings consisted of the small and humble island of New Dardain, the sprawling military territory of Ironhollow Downs, of which housed thousands of Legion soldiers, and the grand Municipality of MacArthur’s Gate, a clerical city- state that stood as the shining beacon and pinnacle of Decusian civilization within the End of the World. While seemingly irrelevant dots on a map compared to the sprawling might of the Republic’s presence on Vitaveues, the Decusian presence here in the End of the World still boasted a modest fifty thousand souls.

Since the emergence of the Torment, these territories were considered a last option for a dying Republic, a contingency plan that the Ecclesial Authority it would use to evacuate the Bishop College and whatever prominent Prelacy families of the Republic they could cram into transports in the unlikely event the Baronies had ever begun a death spiral. These three bastions of hope had stood as a last-chance scenario for the Republic, as there had never been a report of the Torment crossing the vast stretches of ocean that separated Vitaveus from the End of the World. Many citizens had not even ever heard of the existence of these distant colonies, for Vitaveus had been so massive and so sprawling that many could not even conceive of lands existing outside of it. Suppression of lands outside that of Vitaveus had also been a policy of the Church and Authority, for the End of the World contained its own mysteries; people of different cultures and races, some friendly, some hostile, and all practicing beliefs and religions far from that of the Decusian faith. Most notably of these had been the curious Kingdom of Bhaskar, whose people had looked far different than any typical Decusian had.

Many citizens had not even ever heard of the existence of these distant colonies, for Vitaveus had been so massive and so sprawling that many could not even conceive of lands existing outside of it.

In 1333, reports of odd sightings had made its way from MacArthur’s Gate to the Grand Collegiate of Bishops in Tor. Reports of peculiar afflictions of both the mind and soul, odd sightings of errant mages, and tales of unexplained deaths began to fill the occasional status reports that were ferried across the Pearl Sea. Before long, the true severity of the situation had reared its ugly head; it was believed that the Resolve, the mysterious cult that had not been seen nor heard from in almost twenty years, had returned in force, and in one of the most unlikely places in all of Eden.

The Venerated Church, facing an impossible situation upon the mainland, had come to a hasty decision concerning these newfound reports; a surge of support, comprised of the Legion, the Church Templar, the Foundry, and even the Consortium would be sent to solidify the Republic holdings of New Dardain, the Gate, and Ironhollow Downs. Thousands of faithful Decusians had been shipped across the great sea, their perilous journey marking the first days of what would later be known as the fall of the Republic.

Before long, the true severity of the situation had reared its ugly head; it was believed that the Resolve, the mysterious cult that had not been seen nor heard from in almost twenty years, had returned in force, and in one of the most unlikely places in all of Eden.

Upon their arrival in these Old Colonies, as they were colloquially referred to as by the first wave of military reinforcement send to the End of the World, the Republic forces had found themselves braving the unknowns of a land unfamiliar to them. Dozens upon dozens of Clerical and Legion Chapters, infused and supported with the magical support of the Consortium, had been sent immediately eastward from the Decusian port of entry in New Dardain and towards the fabled MacArthur’s Gate, to reinforce and hold the city-state from the rumors of a trifling Resolve threat.

What these fresh reinforcements had found there, however, was something they had surely not expected…

The reports of the Resolve had indeed been true; the cultists had re-emerged in the world of Eden, and with them, an old reign of terror had been unleashed upon a new land. Yet this time, the Resolve had seemingly grown from a simple cult into a veritable army. MacArthur’s Gate had been a literal war zone, besieged by not only the Resolve warlocks, but by the fury of Hell itself. Countless thousands of Legionnaires and Templars had fallen in their efforts to hold the Gate from the Resolve’s new unholy army, of which had been populated with mind-melting horrors of daemonic taint. These horrifying creatures of both man and beast laid a never-ending assault upon MacArthur’s Gate, nearly taking the city-state if not for the sudden influx of new reinforcements sent from Vitaveus.

Chapter: II

News of the findings within the End of the World had been sent immediately back to Vitaveus, directly to the Ecclesial Authroity, and with the utmost secrecy the Republic could muster. Abhorred by the new situation, a bold decision had been enacted by the Authority; an overwhelming surge of forces would be sent to the End of the World, to aid in the task of securing the Republic’s holdings there and to face the Resolve thread head-on. In mere weeks, numerous thousands of the Republic war-machine, consisting of everything from Templar, Legionnaires, Inquisitors and Consortium Magi were shipped off to the Gate in dizzying numbers. Yet it was further reasoned that for every Clerical Chapter or Legion Cohort sent to the End of the World, countless hundreds of laymen would be needed to support their efforts within an untamed and unclaimed landmass that the Republic held such a meager hold over.

Lotteries were soon held in the major cities of the Eastern Baronies, specifically those suffering from overcrowding and scarcity in resources. Presented with an opportunity to leave the overcrowded cities of the Baronies, countless men and women jumped at the offer to serve the Republic by making the exodus to the End of the World. Under the guise they would be assisting in the establishment of several new agricultural colonies upon island holdings in the Pearl Sea, these unknowing souls were shuttled to the Old Colonies by the thousand, only to land upon the docks of New Dardain, and forced to face the grim truth of the reality that laid before them…

Presented with an opportunity to leave the overcrowded cities of the Baronies, countless men and women jumped at the offer to serve the Republic by making the exodus to the End of the World.

…they were but cogs in a great machine, serving to stave off the inevitable slaughter of their countrymen in lands foreign and hostile through all manner of servitude and support.

It was a task that had truly been futile from its inception, and in the following months of the ill-fated colonial surge, these Forsaken Souls had become keenly aware of their predicament. Slowly but surely, the situation within the colonies had begun to come to light to the citizens who were unceremoniously dumped upon the shores of the End of the World. Those that had been sold on the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to help develop new agricultural colonies for the ailing Republic quickly became aware that there was much more going on in the End of the World than a simple colonization; a new war against the Resolve was being fought, one that the Republic was losing sorely – and one they had been unknowingly and unwillingly been conscripted to.

Yet despite such deception, many brave souls answered the call of their Decusian brethren. While MacArthur’s Gate held out against the seemingly endless siege of Resolve forces, the colonist forces worked to support the Republic war-efforts in every way they could. In early 1334, after having been besieged for 324 days straight, the battle for MacArthur’s Gate had experienced it is first day of reprieve. The combined efforts of the Church, Legion, Consortium and the colonial forces had succeeded in supporting a force within the Old Colonies strong enough to resist the efforts of the Resolve – for the Republic, now enforced with magical practitioners of their own, had been able to prove far greater of a match for the cabal of warlocks than they had thirty years prior. With continued support from Vitaveus, it had seemed that victory was even possible, as with every passing day, the forces of the Resolve were beaten back, albeit sometimes merely by feet, further into the unknown lands of the End of the World.

Those that had been sold on the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to help develop new agricultural colonies for the ailing Republic quickly became aware that there was much more going on in the End of the World than a simple colonization; a new war against the Resolve was being fought, one that the Republic was losing sorely – and one they had been unknowingly and unwillingly been conscripted to.

But before absolute victory could truly be achieved or even hinted at, a cataclysmic shift of power within the Republic clergy had occurred, one that served to stop the Colonial success dead in its’ tracks. A new Archbishop had been declared by the Ecclesial Authority, and with him, a new era of misery would be birthed. Capitalizing upon the fears and doubts of many within the Church, the new Archbishop had been able to assume control of the Bishop College, the hearts and minds of many influential Prelacy families, and a large majority of the Ecclesial Authority.

And so it came to pass that Archbishop Karl Anslem’s first executive decision as the Venerated Republic’s newest Archbishop was to immediately suspend all support efforts to the End of the World. Dissenters within the Authority and all four Factions of the Republic were numerous but were quickly quelled through the application of the Authority’s Diaconate Templar, the clergy’s personal army of specialized shock-troops. With the stroke of a quill, thousands of Republic military along with the supporting Colonial effort had been left to fend for themselves – cut off from any future reinforcement or aid from Vitveus.

Thus began the era of the Great Abandonment.

Chapter: III

“The Legionnaires went ahead, first breaching the exterior gate, then climbing over the rock, rubble, fallen trees and charred bodies that had served to block the main roadway into the town proper. I along with half of the remaining forces of the three-hundred and fifth Templar stayed behind as to ensure they were not flanked while making their way into the town. From the exterior, Subodh looked ghastly; fires ravished the rooftops of nearly all the huts and shanties, and the big cherry trees that lined the north and east sides of the settlement were up strung with the corpses of the fallen – hundreds by my count. It looked like Hel on earth.”

“We held our ground as the Legionnaires cleared the way. There wasn’t any resistance. The Colonial cohort followed them. You could say by this point we were desperate for help, and those colonists had some mettle to them, and with the majority of our forces re-assigned to MacArthur’s Gate, we didn’t have a lot of options left. Once the Colonial forces made their way in to the village safely, I and the 305th followed up the rear, ensuring that we were not attacked from behind.”

“I first noticed the construct I have been tasked to write this statement about immediately after making my way into the center of the city from the western gate. From the horizon, it was impossible to see – at the time, I thought it was just due to smoke obscuring its view. Now, looking back, I am sure it was witchery cloaking it from view outside of being directly atop it. The constructs themselves towered a good three, perhaps four stories above the tallest building in the village, and they appeared to be crafted from a dark stone that looked unfamiliar and ancient. The construction took the form of a pair of towers, with an open space between them large enough to fit three wagons wide. At the base of each tower was amassed the remains of dozens, if not hundreds, of both Bhaskarians and Decusians. They looked fresh – perhaps only days old, but they were in bad sorts; many appeared to have been in various states of dismemberment and mutilation.”

“As we stood in awe of the sight before us, we were set upon by the enemy unprepared. I personally witnessed four Templar fall to the hands of the Resolve’s foot-soldiery in under a blink of an eye. Whatever obscuring magic had kept us from being able to observe the towering monolith had seemingly also concealed the Resolvist swordsmen. More than five dozen of the ambushers had been lying in wait for us, and even with our numbers of more than a hundred, we were sorely outmatched. Despite this, we managed to hold our own through the intial ambush and managed some semblance of a defensive line, no less than fifty feet from the base of the construct. As we tried to fight our way out of the square and retreat, I bore witness to the construct reacting to the scene at hand – for every Decusian whom fell, activity began to stir between the two towers of the construct – as if a fierce wind began to pick up, isolated solely between the two towers. As more of our Colonials, Templars and Legionnaires fell, the swirling activity between the towers grew with intensity, until light and colors materialized out of thin air.”

“I had then managed to make out the visage of a hooded figure at the foot of the tower, coalescing from within the swirling wind and materializing colors. Behind the figure, the outline of a beast – of whose size and proportions that I still to this day dare not fathom more than a glancing thought of – began to take shape. It was then that I had come to realize the purpose of the tower constructs – it was undoubtedly a magical gateway of some sort, not unlike those I once observed a Consortium Arcanist summon, only much, much larger. Yet where the gateway led, I dare not venture a guess, lest I may lose whatever vestiges of sanity I have left within my shattered psyche.”

“Before I could even utter a word of warning to the others around me, Seraph Landcaster and a dozen of the 305th sprung into action. I recognized a few of them from around Ironhollow – they had been following around the Seraph for weeks prior, ever since his arrival in the Downs, and they revered him like the second coming of Decus. They moved with purpose, making a hole through the Resolve swordsmen and toward the construct. Somehow, against all odds, they made it to the foot of the gate, and without a moment’s hesitation, threw themselves into the maw.”

“Immediately after the Seraph and his men breached the gate from our side, I, along with many, had been knocked to the ground in a gust of wind and blinding light emanating from the construct. It was then I heard it. We all did – the howl of the beast. It was unnatural, feral, and overtaken with rage. It is my solemn duty to attest that I believe the being to have been Daemonic in nature, and that it had been the Resolve’s intention to lead us into the village to help facilitate the creature’s entry into our realm through the slaughter of wholesale slaighter of faithful Decusians. If it were not for the actions of the Seraph and his brave fellows, I cannot fathom what may have happened if the beast were to have had walked through the gate.”

“Under pain of death, I admit to the council that I, High Inquisitor Aeneas Eleutherios’, had then led a full-scale retreat from the village of Subodh. Moments after our remaining forces had made their way out of the village, what felt like a massive earthquake shook the entire peninsula. In the calamity of the situation, I was knocked unconscious. I awoke hours later to my brethren pulling me through a meadow surrounding the outskirts of Niranjan, which we had later found to be completely abandoned…”

“…and so on and so forth.”

The Consul raised his head up from the statement before him, casting his gaze upon the assembled souls with a callous, cold look. Methodically, he folded his hands over the yellowed parchment, awaiting a response. He cast a harsh look upon the assembled two hundred or so Bishops in attendance, seated upon ascending concentric rows of thrones in a semi-circle around the dais he stood upon. The Consul's gray eyes moved to each one of them for a fleeting moment, as if challenging them to speak up. Satisfied with the assembled silence, the Consul took the Inquisitor’s report had had been reading from, folded it once, and returned it to the brass strongbox that had been used to transport it to the Ecclesial Council for dissemination.

After a long moment of stunned silence, a wavering voice reverberated through the Eccesial chamber. Bishop Erasmus’ accent bore a thick Volgen slur, the words emanating from his weathered lips shaky and unsure.

“A Daemon then. Is this what the Inquisitor claims in his statement, Consul? Can it be true?”

The Consul adjusted his monocle and stole a look to the far end of the auditorium chamber – to the general direction of the elder Bishop’s throne arrangement - before speaking.

“The only Seraph known to have been physically present for the events in Subdoh was that of Seraph Landcaster. As the Authority dictates, the testament of an ordained Seraph is needed when concerning such sensitive matters – the word of a simple Inquisitor is not sufficient evidence to make a ruling in this matter. And for good cause, my excellency - I've no reason to believe the ravings of an obvious madman.”

Bishop Erasmus nodded politely, lowering his gaze.

“Whatever “beast” was witnessed by our forces in the old colonies was no doubt parlor tricks. Smoke and mirrors by the Resolve – or even more likely, at the hands of Consortium Apostates breaking rank the moment they tasted a bit of freedom from Republic rule.”

A voice from one of the lower seated rows, this time delicate and refined, broke the momentary silence. A Bishop from Nemus, by the name of Aristarchus.

“And only twenty-seven souls of this Inquisitor's patron Clergy are accounted for, Consul?”

What could be interpreted only as a stifled sneer appeared briefly across the Consul’s chiseled face. He drew a long breath, and then submitted his reply.

“Twenty-seven, aye your excellence. Of which eighteen remain alive as of today. All of them properly incarcerated for the time being, as mentioned in my brief prior to the Inquisitor’s read testimony. As I explained earlier, it is the will of the Archbishop himself that these fellows are inspected by the Diaconate, and perhaps even the Garden, for fear of heretical thought and tainted souls. No doubt these men, including the Inquisitor, have been through much in their time in the Old Colonies, yet such incoherent and false ramblings concerning Daemons and the occult simply -cannot- be excused, even when made by those suffering from the mental traumas of war.”

Aristarchus brought a slender hand to his bottom lip, running the tip of his thumb across it. The bishop’s eyes darted to and fro, a nervous look filling them. A few long moments of silence filled the chambers. After what seemed like an eternity, the Consul nodded to himself, gathering his assembled materials. Standing from the throne he had been situated upon, he had looked upon the assembled bishops with little sign of reverence. He spoke yet again, this time with forcefulness.

“It is the conclusion of the Consul's office that the College disregards, in its entirety, Inquisitor Eleutherios’ sworn statement concerning the happenings in Subodh. He was obviously under significant duress during his time within the Old Colonies, and his testament is evident of such. Notwithstanding is he and his men’s disobedience in returning to Vitaveus after the Authority’s direct order of non-contact with the Republic proper. The Inquisitor is tainted with madness, as were his compatriots, and they were all driven to abandon their duties in the End of the World when word reached them of temporary suspension of Colonial support. Which I may remind you, has saved countless thousands of gold in the last month alone…”

The assemblage responded with a few hushed whispers and ramblings. The Consul continued.

“It is the Consul's opinion, and coincidentally that of the Archbishop's office, that this Republic has lost sacrificed enough lives in the pursuit of fallacies and fairy tales. Whatever “beast” was witnessed by our forces in the old colonies was no doubt parlor tricks. Smoke and mirrors by the Resolve – or even more likely, at the hands of Consortium Apostates breaking rank the moment they tasted a bit of freedom from Republic rule. There is no proof that any arcanist upon the face of Eden, not even the Resolve cultists, possess the power to traverse realms and summon forth the Dae’. To even suggest that a mortal could hold such power is blasphemy! We have sacrificed far too much in the name of old superstitious tales of mystical artifacts that bend the powers of both Heaven and Hel - it is time that we put the Old Colonies behind us, once and for all.”

The Consul looked across the College of Bishops once more, and without another word, turned towards the council exit. His footsteps reverberated upon the marble floor of the hall and across the sprawling center dais, accentuating the stammering point he had made moments prior. Making his way across to the other side of the auditorium, he continued his pointed remarks.

“Our work in the Old Colonies is over. It is time to focus on the wellbeing of our Republic rather than expending resources halfway across the world. MacArthur’s Gate has, and will always be, a fool’s errand, and -as- -we- -all- -know-, the Archbishop nor the Authority tolerate fools gladly. With that said, it is of the opinion of this Consul that any future returning members of the Colonial efforts in the End of the World are never given such a platform as we have been forced to entertain in this unsavory business with High Inquisitor Eleutherios.”

More hushed whispers. The Consul craned his neck back towards the College of Bishops, as if challenging them to speak up in defiance. Satisfied that there was no argument, the Consul continued. As his free hand reached out towards the doors of the auditorium, a voice arose from the sea of silence. It was soft, yet rang of confidence, coming from somewhere far in the upper-echelons of the auditorium seats.

“Consul, I beg of thee, a final question?”

The Consul stopped in his tracks, gritting his teeth. Taking a moment to adjust his monocle, he turned. Nearly in unison, the assembled Bishops followed suit, craning their necks to acknowledge the new voice. Far in the top rows of the auditorium, reserved for the lowliest and least important clergymen of the College, stood a middle-aged man of average height and import. From initial appearances, he bore the look of a humble man, foregoing many of the elaborate trappings, baubles, adornments, and jewelry of his brethren clergymen, and instead opting to ordain the simplest standard trappings of a Templar, save the identifying tunic and cape of his proper station of Bishop. He had undoubtedly been a serviceman once, his posture exuding a confidence that can only be earned in battle, complete with a stony expression that exuded humility but also demanded recognition.

The Consul wavered slightly at the sight of the Bishop yet regained his composure quickly.

“Yes, my excellency?”

The words were prompt and spat out quickly. The Bishop replied.

“The Seraph in the Inquisitor’s report. Is there any news concerning his fate?”

The Consul shifted in place. His gaze averted towards the ground for a moment, attempting to stifle a sneer, at last recognizing the Bishop of whom had asked him the question.

“No, your excellency. Your so-…ahem…Seraph Landcaster remains absent without leave.”

Bishop Johan Landcaster kept his stern, stoic expression. He had already known the answer the question he had posed – his own flesh and blood had been named in the Inquisitor’s report as being responsible for closing the Resolve’s summoning gate, no doubt sparing thousands a fate worse than death, and he no doubt met his untimely demise right there and then in Subdoh. Yet his question was not for his own sake, but more so for his assembled brethren – in the gathering of the hundreds of Bishops that now sat within the auditorium, he had wanted to pique every one’s attention to the fact that not only had his very own son had been regarded as a hero in the Inquisitor's sworn statement, but that a Seraph of the Decusian Church had still been unaccounted for. His strategy has worked; nearly all his fellow clergymen had now looked upon him with curiosity. Taking advantage of the moment, Bishop Landcaster moved towards the auditorium isle, and descended the stairs to the floor. He rubbed his chin pointedly, feigning a moment of pondering thought – in truth, he had rehearsed this moment for days, and rubbing his chin had helped calm his nerves.

The Bishop paused for a moment as he approached the auditorium dais, looking upon the portrait that lined auditorium’s far wall. The scene depicted Archangel Decus extending his outstretched hands to a gathered assemblage of men and women. The scene dated back centuries, and this take upon it had been more than a hundred years old itself. It was truly a masterpiece in every sense of the word and looking upon it had always instilled within the Bishop a sense of reverence and spirituality. Prying his eyes away from the work of art, his eyes rested back upon the Consul. With renewed vigor, his next words came out as softly as his original inquiry, but with enough volume to ensure that not a single world was misunderstood by the assembled clergy.

“And of the Garden’s Assets, Consul? Did they return to Vitaveus with Inquisitor Eleutherios’ men? Have they reported their own findings as to what is happening in the Old Colonies?”

The Consul physically reeled. A ruckus enveloped the chambers, the assembled Bishops surprised by the accusation.

“Wh..what are you talking abo-…”

``Before I could even utter a word of warning to the others around me, Seraph Landcaster and a dozen of the 305th sprung into action. I recognized a few of them from around Ironhollow – they had been following around the Seraph for weeks prior, ever since his arrival in the Downs, and they revered him like the second coming of Decus.``

The Bishop interrupted, bridging the gap between he and the Consul across the dais. He gave the Consul no time to think, hammering him with another question, his tone of voice now becoming louder and more accusatory.

“There are still those that serve the Church without question, Consul – those that would report when even the Authority steps outside of its’ purview. ”

The Bishop clenched his fist, now standing face to face with the Consul.

“Answer the question. Has the Garden been opened without the College’s knowledge? Has a Tender been commissioned without approval? Have we turned so far from Decus that we now openly wield the tools of the enemy without so much as an acknowledgement given to the ruling council of this very Authority we claim to hold over this Republic!?”

The Consul fumbled with his materials, parchments spilling to the floor. He turned quickly on his heel, moving towards the auditorium exit, intent on escaping…

…only to be brought to his knees with a swift elbow to the kidney by Bishop Landcaster. Surprised gasps filled the chambers as the Bishop grabbed the back of the Consul’s crushed velvet tunic, pulling his slack, lithe body up from the marble floor, turning him to face his brethren Bishops. The clamoring of plate mail and the unsheathing of swords reverberated through the auditorium as four heavily armored Diaconate Templar rushed forth from their guard positions on either side of the auditorium, moving in to intervene. Unphased, Landcaster unsheathed a stiletto from beneath his own chainmail tunic, placing the tip beneath the Consul’s chin – the Templar guards stopped in their tracks, uncertain of their next move.

“Answer me, Consul. Answer the College. In the name of your savior, in the name of the Archangel, speak truth, lest I bloody the floors of this Chamber, so help me Decus.”

The Consul shrieked, kicking his feet about. Cowardice consumed him, and he began stammering.

“U..Uh…Unaccounted for! The Tender is presumed dead…lost with the others!”

The Bishop at last pushed the Consul away, sneering in disgust. Clamoring outrage washed over the auditorium as the assembled Bishops reacted to the outrageous news. The four Diocanate Templar rushed over the Consul’s aid, blades drawn and pointed in the direction of Bishop Landcaster. Two of the Templar had even made steps towards Landcaster in an ill-conceived notion of attempting to arrest him – which they had immediately reconsidered as the assembled College of Bishops shouted them down in anger.

“It is not the right Archbishop to authorize the release of a Tender upon any lands of Eden without express approval of the College, Consul! You would have us believe that the Archbishop is convinced that MacArthur’s Gate is a worthless stack of stone and mortar in the ass-end of the world, yet he sends a certified Diabolist and a coven of Witches half-way across the world there for no apparent reason!?”

The Consul squealed as the Diaconate Templar ushered him to the exit. His voice came out in a scratchy squeak, barely audible over the roaring clamor of the auditorium chambers.

“You question the Archbishop, Landcaster!?”

The audacity of the Consul, even when faced with the chaotic and dangerous situation before him had somehow emboldened the Bishop. Taking an armored fist to his chain-mail tunic, he pounded his chest three times in a traditional Templar “psych-up” technique and then raised his voice to near shouting-levels, making his final enamored plea to the assembled clergy.

“My brethren, I ask of thee: why has the Garden been commissioned by the Archbishop without regard to our Holy Sacrament? The Garden Tenders and their accursed progeny have always been, and shall always be, options of -absolute- last resort. To use them with such blatant disregard to our own moral convictions and Ecclesial rules is nigh blasphemy. And I ask further, my brethren, why are we so hasty to dismiss the word of an Inquisitor of our Faith – the very vanguard of our Republic against the taint of heresy and evil? Why have we have abandoned our forces in the End of the World just when they had begun making progress against the forces of the Resolve, all under the guise of our efforts being misguided and futile? No less than a year ago, we assembled here in this very chamber to send thousands of our brothers and sisters to face to keep our mortal enemies from obtaining the Relic enshrined within MacArthur’ Gate. We have sacrificed thousands in the name of the Old Texts, out of fear of what may become of us all if our enemies acquire the Doctrine. I ask of thee, my brethren, when did we lose our faith in the founding principles of what makes us Decusians? When did we turn from the lessons of the One True God!?”

The roaring clamor of the auditorium was now at a fever-pitch. Bishops young and old joined in on the fervent cries that carried forth within the hall – cries of blasphemy, treason, heresy intertwined with shouts of honor, duty, sacrifice and diligence. Dissenting voices screamed at one another, some citing Decusian scripture while others called them superstitious fools. While the assembled College was far from a unanimous voice, Landcaster had accomplished more than he had possibly hoped for. Doubt had been cast upon the actions of the new Archbishop, and from this doubt, opportunity for change would soon blossom. For many within the Authority had been opposed to the Archbishop’s decisions, yet few dared speak out for fear of retribution. Finding the opportunity to cast doubt upon the Archbishop’s intentions with his anonymously received tip about the Garden had been Landcaster’s original plan, yet once he began talking, he could not help himself to go further. Reminding the College of the Doctrine had been hasty and reckless and would undoubtedly label him as a zealot – none the less, it had incensed the College to a fervor that he had not witnessed in years.

Bearing witness to the chaos erupting around him, the Consul scrambled to the auditorium exit, Diaconate Templar at his side. Bishop Landcaster allowed him to take his leave, for his point had been made – there were those that had questioned the Archbishops motivations as of late, and they would not go quietly into the dark of night.

Speculatio

Speculatio Decusian Fides

…a lengthy and modern examination into the origins of Decusian religious creed and beliefs, circa 1290 by one Thomas Augustus.

The tale of the founding of the Republic, and more importantly, the faith that guides this mighty empire is a story best prefaced by exploring the canonical history of Eden and its shadowy early days. From hopeless beginnings to the dawn of a kingdom unrivaled, the tale of the Decusian Faith spreads across a period no less than fifteen hundred years in the making, one filled with both hardships and victory. By examining our history and origins as a people we may find the reasons as to why our fore-fathers were so fervently bound by honor and faith, both in their spirituality and of their fledgling kingdom.

Canonically speaking, the origins surrounding the formal birth of the Decusian Faith as a true religious creed has its beginnings traced back to the sinister days of The Old, specifically, during the first ten thousand years the world of Eden had existed. In this time of The Old, it is said that man first appeared upon the world of Eden. Little could be said about these barbaric and uncivilized precursors to the modern-day man. Uneducated and scattered, they roamed the lands of Eden with the other beasts that inhabited the world. As described in cannon, primitive men were nothing more than directionless husks of flesh and muscle simply existing within the lush landscapes of Eden. While ignorant, they were considered to live and exist in bliss, for they knew no natural predator, nor sickness, nor suffering.

Following the actions of the Thirteenth Archangel, as detailed in Creationis, the Decusian story of creation, a cataclysmic event befell Eden. Overtaken in darkness, the lands were populated with what were known as the Ill; all manners of diabolical creatures of whom sought to inflict pain and suffering upon that of mankind. From what can be collected from early literature of the Decusian faith, the most sinister of the Ill were described as powerful creatures whom resembled men but were quite different from their brethren. It is said that these creatures had the power to raise the dead, were stronger and faster than any human man, and had gained their nourishment by consuming the flesh and blood of living humans. These beings were by far the strongest of any creature that roamed the ancient lands of Eden, yet they were also intelligent and cunning; instead of hunting early mankind to extinction, they opted to enslave them instead. Fearing reprisal from early man, the Ill thinned the population of humanity through large scale murder, ravishing through women and children alike with feral tenacity and callous hands. Diminishing humanity into more manageable of a number, the populous of humanity was reduced by nearly half, assuring free reign by the Ill and their counterparts. This period is referred to at times as The Great Culling.

For time immemorial, humanity served as slaves to these beasts of darkness and despair. Yet it is during these early days of slavery and anguish that the ancient man began to develop his own culture and understanding of the world. Language developed among slave camps, and ancient man slowly but gradually made the transformation from primitive beast to a thinking creature. Forced to sustain themselves as well as serve to the pleasures of their masters, early man learned simple agriculture and other domestic trades out of necessity. It is further speculated, although quite cautiously, that early man also emulated and learned from their masters, learning things such as language and aspects of Ill culture. This idea, of course, is quite unpopular with the Church, explaining its lack of acceptance in most scholastic circles.

It is said that these creatures had the power to raise the dead, were stronger and faster than any human man, and had gained their nourishment by consuming the flesh and blood of living humans

At some point during this epoch of enslavement, an unprecedented event occurred; a single slave known in early texts as Randamus successfully killed an Ill slaver in a public display of defiance. This singular act is notable for two reasons; first, before Randamus’ act, early man is described to be a pacifistic creature, unaware or incapable of inflicting harm upon their brethren or even the Ill. Secondly, the subsequent execution of Randamus turned him into a martyr for the human race, as his execution spawned a half century of revolution against the oppression of the Ill. While detailed information of Randamus apart from his name and purported deed is practically non-existant, the ideology and martyrdom that surrounds Randamus and the rebellion that followed is an artery of modern day Decusian Faith. The idea that, despite facing certain death free will cannot be is a strong pillar in which the Decusian religion is founded upon, as easily seen in later works that the martyr Randamus referenced. Following the revolt of Randamus, ancient man fought against their Ill slavers for decades. Early texts show us that their efforts were mostly fruitless, however; as one popular text notes, ‘for every Ill that could be felled, ten-fold men fell to their dark powers’. On the verge of extinction, humanity was facing a losing battle. That is, until the Day of the Coming.

It is gathered from ancient lore that during the Day of the Coming, a spiritual entity from the Heavens themselves came to the desperate please of humanity in their most dire time of need. This entity, an Archangel, was the embodiment of purity and good. A creature of immeasurable brilliance, the Archangel possessed the form of a man, yet beheld wings of white feathers and armor of brilliant craft and design. This herald of light beheld a name which would live on in the world of Eden and in everlasting reverence; Decus. It was even said that some early men offered their worship to this ambassador of Heaven; however, such attempts were quickly dismissed by Decus himself. The Archangel, as he himself explained, came to humanity’s side as a humble servant, not as a deity or an idol of worship.

A creature of immeasurable brilliance, the Archangel possessed the form of a man, yet beheld wings of white feathers and armor of brilliant craft and design.

Upon arriving upon Eden, Decus took humanity under His guidance and tutelage. The Archangel explained his arrival in the Realm of Mortals as a precursor to a bright, new future for mankind; one that he has personally foresaw in a heavenly vision following Randamus’ rebellion. From Decus’ teachings, early man learned that these ecclesial creatures, the Angels, had existed in a different realm of existence. This place of peace, harmony and everlasting bliss was known as the Heavens. It was out of compassion that the Arch Prelate made the decent from the Heavenly realm into the Realm of Mortals in a desperate effort to keep them from being extinguished from the annals of life itself. This compassion was punctuated by the immeasurable sacrifice Decus had made when venturing forth from the Kingdom of Heaven; for He had forfeited His own immortality to save the vestiges of humanity, as by stepping foot upon Eden, he was subjected to the same rules and laws that governed the realm of mortals and men.

Ancient cannon states that Decus had bestowed upon early mankind a plethora of knowledge and teachings. The ecclesial liaison sharpened not only the minds of the human rebellion, but their proverbial swords as well, bestowing upon them techniques and technology unfathomable to early man. Metallurgy, carpentry and blacksmithing proved to turn the tides of the war with the Ill; where early man had initially used simple tools and weapons crafted of wood and rock to rebel against their former masters, they now employed the use of metal weapons and armor. It is even said that the knowledge of magic, in its most pure and Divine form, was bestowed upon mankind at this time. This profound renaissance of militaristic tactics, technology and enlightenment, tempered with the historic oppression of the Ill, caused a forced evolution of mankind. From the remaining vestiges of early mankind and by the guiding hand of Decus, the modern-day Decusian was born.

As early mankind evolved into the modern-day Decusian, enlightenment spread across Eden, and war against the Ill began to turn in humanity’s favor. Before long, exceptional men and women rose to assume the mantle of leading this new era of humanity. These talented souls were recognized by Decus from his visions as the instruments in which would bring forth salvation for the human race. Gathering together these exceptional few, Decus saw to it that a foothold was to be established in the heart of Eden, a revered place that would serve as the staging point of re-taking the world from the hands of the Ill. This hallowed place came to be called Temple, and its’ founding citizenry, the Templar. It is believed that Temple is the first true organized “city” of humanity, and due to its’ significance in Decusian culture, is a revered and sacred idea.

Upon the founding of Temple, the Templar ventured forth across Eden in righteous conquest. Spreading the teaching of Decus far and wide, the Templar trained the willing and ready, recruiting the most exceptional into their own ranks and setting forth the rest to continue humanity’s rebellion. These Templar quickly assembled into the commanding force of the human war effort. Masters of both combat, science and even magic, tales are still told to this day of the Templar being able to call forth powers normal men could only dream about. Amongst their powers granted to them by Decus was the ability to heal wounds by simple touch, to call forth surges of bravery in the most shaken of soldiers, and to even smite the Ill by simple spoken word. Before long, the war against the Ill was won, and humanity reigned as the supreme lifeform of Eden.

The ecclesial liaison sharpened not only the minds of the human rebellion, but their proverbial swords as well, bestowing upon them techniques and technology unfathomable to early man,

Yet with this great victory came great sorrow; for upon completion of their war against the Ill, the Archangel had succumbed to his own mortality. Decus’ passing marked the end of an epoch and the beginning of a new dawn for humanity. The Templar, still regarded by their fellow men as the chosen of humanity and rightful leaders of mankind, took to ascribing humanity’s victory to Decus’ intervention. In detailing the deeds and qualities of the Archangel, a collection of merits were attributed to the Archangel’s character. These virtues, known as the “Sacred Eight”, would come to be the fabric of morality that the Decusian faith would be later based upon, and are as follows:

Honesty, which is the human quality of communicating and acting truthfully and with fairness, as best one is able. It is related to truth as a value.

Compassion, which is a sense of shared suffering, most often combined with a desire to alleviate or reduce such suffering; to show special kindness to those who suffer. Thus compassion is essentially empathy, though with a more active slant in that the compassionate person will seek to actually aid those they feel compassionate for.

Valor, also known as fortitude, is the ability to confront fear, pain, danger, uncertainty or intimidation. It can be divided into “physical courage” — in face of physical pain, hardship, and threat of death — and “moral courage” — in the face of shame, scandal, and discouragement.

Justice, or a condition thereof, is the ideal state of humanity: a morally-correct state of things and persons.

Honor is the evaluation of a person’s trustworthiness and social status based on that individual’s espousals and actions. Honor is deemed exactly what determines a person’s character: whether or not the person reflects honesty, respect, integrity, or fairness.

Sacrifice, the term used to describe the idea of selfless good deeds for others. Sacrifice is the concept of a direct relation between one’s virtues and their status within society.

Spirituality, in a narrow sense, concerns itself with matters of the spirit. The spiritual, involving (as it may) perceived eternal verities regarding humankind’s ultimate nature, often contrasts with the temporal, with the material, or with the worldly. It is the idea in which mankind stays true to their belief in themselves and the Sacred Eight.

Humility is a quality or characteristic ascribed to a person who is considered to be humble. A humble person is generally thought to be unpretentious and modest: someone who does not think that he or she is better or more important than others.

The Templar would go further in their proclamations. In their eyes and interpretations not only did Decus show them the path to their worldly salvation, but their otherworldly deliverance as well. The Templar proclaimed that, by adhering to the Sacred Eight qualities that defined the Archangel, humanity could ascend from the fabric of the reality following their mortal death, and live life eternal once more in everlasting tranquility within the realm of the Kingdom of Heaven itself. This idea became known colloquially in canon as “Ascendance”. These two guiding principles, the Sacred Eight and Ascendance, would become the foundations of the Decusian faith proper.

Popular with early peoples, these beliefs spread across the newly liberated ranks of mankind like wildfire. The evolution of these beliefs followed a natural course of action; the Templar, shepherds of early faith and interpreters of the life and deeds of Decus, would come to govern early mankind in earnest. From these early days came the birth of the Venerated Church, honoring Decus for his sacrifice by devoting their lives to adhering to the Sacred Eight. And thus, a people were born; the Decusians. In time, Decusian faith would come to revere Decus as humanity’s true and rightful (dead) God – for so revered was Decus to humankind, not death nor the fact that he was a creation of the Mason would deter them from worshipping his memory and quality. And so is the story of the Decusian religion; a faith whom reveres a dead Angel as mankind’s rightful God, whom turn their back to the the supposed true creator of the Universe, the Mason, and whom devote themselves to a moral code that shall allow them to live life ever-lasting within the Kingdom of Heaven.

The Venerated Church

The Church of the Venerated Republic is the largest, most influential and oldest faction within the Decuisan Republic. It is the veritable heart of the Republic, and through its will, the empire serves. Due to the inherently ecclesial nature of the Republic, the Decusian Church has always served as not only the most powerful element of the Republic when compared to other factions of the kingdom, but has also fulfilled the role of governing the Republic. From formulating and enacting legislation to wielding supreme authority over fellow factions of the Republic proper, the Church represents the soul of the Republic in every sense of the word. No other presence, faction or organization within the Republic can compare with the influence the Church wields in shaping both culture and society.

While often looked upon as a singular, monolithic establishment ,The Decusian Church is actually a collection of several sub factions and independent orders, all of which fall under the ultimate rule of one of the two branches of the Church itself; the Clerici Sacris, known commonly as the Sacred Clergy or simply “The Clergy”, and the Templar Veneratione Honorantur, known as the “Venerated Templar or simply “The Templar”. These two independent branches form a patchwork that is the Venerated Church of Decus, the singular most powerful force within the Republic. The unifying agent of the two branches of the Church is the ruling caste of the Republic itself, which is comprised of the College of Bishops and the Venerated Archbishop, the supreme ecclesial member of the Church proper. The College of Bishops serves as the Archbishop’s governmental cabinet and council of advisors, and is comprised of four of the most senior members of the Clergy and four of the most senior members of the Templar. The Archbishop, whom is considered by all rights the foremost leader of the Republic, serves the Church and the Republic until death, where a new Archbishop is appointed by the College. Whilst much crucial deliberation and decision-making is left to the hands of the College, the Archbishop retains final veto authority over all final rulings that concern the Republic, thus making he and his office the most supreme power within the empire.

No other faction is as closely linked with the ruling government of the Republic as is the Church. It is a widely known and accepted facet of life that the Church is ultimately responsible for how the Republic is governed and operated. The Decusian Senates, of which can be found in nearly every major territory of the Republic, handle the majority of all governmental proceedings for the nation. An innumerable amount of Senators, whom are appointed from both the Clergy and the Templar, task themselves with the day-to-day operation of all Republic business. In some circumstances, such as more sparsely populated territories, the Republic Foundry is often utilized to handle the general governance of an area, but only under the watchful gaze of the local Templar garrison or Clerical congregation.

No other faction is as closely linked with the ruling government of the Republic as is the Church. It is a widely known and accepted facet of life that the Church is ultimately responsible for how the Republic is governed and operated.

In circumstances dealing with the most crucial decision making in regards to the Republic, the Summus Conventus, or High Assembly is utilized. The High Assembly is regarded as the most powerful Senate within the Republic, and is seated within Tor, along with the College of Bishops and Archbishop. The Summus Conventus is primarily responsible for the legislation and enactment of decrees that affect the Republic at large, of which are voted upon and deferred to the College of Bishops and the Archbishop to make final judgement upon.

To the layman, the Church is an imposing force that propagates sermon and faith with a zealous creed, backed up by the might and power of the second largest military force in the Republic, the Church Templar. Closer examination of the faction reveals, however, that two separate and independent branches of the Church exist to fulfill the needs and demands of the Decusian Republic. The Clergy comprise priesthood of the Church, and exists to perpetuate faith through doctrine. The Clergy in itself is made up of all traditional clerical roles, such as priests and deacons. These men and women comprise the orthodox ideal of “people of the cloth”, often serving as one of innumerable roles within the many churches, cathedrals and ecclesial establishments that populate the Republic. A Council of Bishops are tasked with the overall command of the Clergy, of whose numbers range from the hundreds to thousands depending on various circumstances. The Council of Bishops is furthermore responsible for the appointment of Clergy members to the Republic Senate.

The Templar is the militaristic aspect of Church. They are, essentially, an army bred and raised by the Church to further propagate the will of the Clergy. The Templar itself provides the Republic with services such as overseeing military engagements, providing general security to Church assets, and the planning and execution of military endeavors that do not necessitate the use of the Venerated Legion. Members of the Church Templar are trained and educated completely independently from the Republic’s standing army, the Venerated Legion, and are often instilled with specialized knowledge, zealous faith and more unique equipment that produces a warrior suited for the specific needs of the Church. A council of Warbishops command and oversee the Church Templar, and like the Council of Bishops, also appoint members of the Templar to serve within the Republic Senate. Generally speaking, the Clergy and the Templar branches work independent of each other, yet retain parity of authority in regards to rank held among the their respective branches. A senior Clergymen, for instance, retains the authority to command less-senior Templar in circumstances that would be deemed sensible.

The Templar is the militaristic aspect of Church. They are, essentially, an army bred and raised by the Church to further propagate the will of the Clergy.

Castes The need arises in any organization paramilitary force for it to play host to specialized groups that further serve its needs. Thusly, various sub factions, or castes, exist within both the Clergy and the Templar to tend to these needs. Castes adhere to the rank structure of the Church hierarchy, yet normally retain their own independence from the traditional branches of the Clergy and Templar. Normally, a high-ranking member of either branch is assigned to the general administration of a caste, and oversee it in the manner of a political office or position.

Castes of the Clergy exist for specialized needs of the Church that require the more delicate touch of a man of the cloth, as opposed to the brash force exuded from those of the sword. Examples of specialized castes traditionally administered by the Clergy are as follows:

Venerated Apothecary Corps: The Apothecary Corps exist to administer the research and study of diseases, the advancement of medicinal breakthroughs, and the general handling of plagues and pandemics within the Republic. They are considered a non-military force, and thus, are classified under the ranks of the Clergy.

The Diaconate Templar: An elite form of Templar requisitioned for the use of the Clergy in matters of security and protection, the Diaconate Templar consist of the only true military unit administered by the Clergy. The role of the Diaconate Templar are to ensure the private security of important Clergy members and their families. To an extent, the Diaconate Templar are also used to aid the Apothecary Corps in emergency situations.

Circle of Illumination: The Circle of Illumination can be considered a more philosophical branch of the Church, specializing in the upkeep and study of religious relics concerning that of the Decusian religion. They maintain the Citadel, the grand library of the Republic, and are often touted as lore keepers and historians.

Similarly, the Templar utilize various Castes to fulfill specialized needs and roles. Some examples of Templar Castes include:

Templar Expeditionary: A rather archaic caste, the Expeditionary is comprised of specially trained Templar forces designed to work abroad and outside of the formal reign of the Republic and its holdings. They were traditionally used to administrate and oversee the forceful indoctrination of other cultures into the Republic, with the aid of the general clergy, and the Legion. While still in existence, the modern-day Expeditionary is utilized to assist in matters relating to the policing of Republic territories of the farthest reaches of Vitaveus, where a consolidated Church presence may be few and far between.

Venerated Inquisition Corps: The Venerated Inquisition is one of the eldest Castes of the Templar and Church proper, and exist to hunt down and exterminate all things considered evil and blasphemous in the name of the Venerated Church. They are an elite caste whom were traditionally assigned to the extermination of anything regarding to be “Of the Ill”. In more modern times, the VIC has been responsible for the capture or execution of those suspected of witchcraft, and in recent years, have worked closely with the Consortium in identifying and bringing to justice rouge magic users within the Republic. The VIC is infamous in their tactics and methodology, and often cited in historical ecclesial literature as being ruthless in their execution of doctrine.

Creatonis: I – III

[Creationis, I:1] In the beginning, there was only darkness.

[Creationis, I:2] All that existed in the time before Men and this world as we know it was an expanse of nothingness, a veil of shadow black as the darkest silk.

[Creationis, I:3] For millennia did this nothingness exist, a sea of darkness as still as a pool of tar that reached as far as the eye could see and the mind could perceive.

[Creationis, I:4] This great nothingness is known to us simply as the Void.

[Creationis, I:5] Within this great Void does the story of Creation begin.

[Creationis, I:6] One fateful day, many millennia ago, the Void was rustled with a fervent uproar.

[Creationis, I:7] For countless centuries, the Void stirred most violently and unexpectedly, as water disturbed by a thrown stone.

[Creationis, I:8] From this turbulent torrent of activity did the first life in our great Verse truly begin.

[Creationis, I:9] While we, the remaining vestiges of mankind, look upon the blessing of new life as a glorious miracle, the creations birthed from the great void could hardly be considered blessed or holy.

[Creationis, I:10] These creatures, the first true life in our great Verse, were dark and evil things that reveled in the darkness they considered home.

[Creationis, I:11] And so was the first life of our Verse born, dark children of the Void’s endless night.

[Creationis, I:12] Existing only to indulge in that which was not.

[Creationis, I:13] Their existence was as bleak and as dark as the shadows which had birthed them.

[Creationis, I:14] These wicked things are known to us as the Ancients.

[Creationis, I:15] The Void was a comfortable home to its dark children.

[Creationis, I:16] For many, many years, the Void was still and silent as it was before the birthing of the Ancients.

[Creationis, I:17] The Ancients drifted for centuries within their boundless black sea, content to simply exist in silence and solitude.

[Creationis, I:18] But one day the winds of change blew through the Void yet again, molesting the dark stillness the Ancients called their home with a viscous prejudice.

[Creationis, I:19] From this agitation came a new creation, one far different from the Ancients…

[Creationis, I:20] This creation was light, the opposite of dark.

[Creationis, I:21] This light took the form of a great orb of fire, which the Ancients came to know as the Flame.

[Creationis, I:22] This Flame stood defiantly against the darkness of the Void, illuminating it with zealous radiance and casting its light upon that which knew only darkness since the dawn of time.

---

[Creationis, II:1] The Ancient ones were immediately loathsome of the Flame, for its light had shone through all but the thickest shadows of the Void, its brilliance threatening their very existence.

[Creationis, II:2] Their home had been invaded by an intolerable presence, and thus they sought to remove it.

[Creationis, II:3] For centuries did the Ancients attempt to destroy the Flame, yet their efforts were in vain, for the Flame only grew stronger with every failed attempt.

[Creationis, II:4] In their desperation, the Ancients bid their most powerful and eldest kin to sacrifice themselves in a grand ritual, one that would create a great tool that could be used to craft a new home for their kind; a realm of shadow and darkness that the Flame could never pierce.

[Creationis, II:5] And so did the strongest and wisest of the Ancients take part in said ritual, combining their powers to create the great tool that would create them a new home…

[Creationis, II:6] And so came into being was the one known to us as the Mason.

[Creationis, II:7] The Mason had been a powerful creature, one born but for a single purpose; to craft the Ancients a new home.

[Creationis, II:8] With his immeasurable powers, the Mason manipulated the Void, rending it in half. In one half, he placed the Flame, and called it the Verse.

[Creationis, II:9] The other half he filled with shadow and darkness, and called it Hel. It was here that the Ancients fled, forever abandoning the Flame and the Mason, leaving their servant to perish to the Flame’s light.

[Creationis, II:10] But as the ages had past, the Mason did not perish.

[Creationis, II:11] In fact, he thrived. As years turned to decades, decades to centuries, and centuries to millennium, he had grown drawn to the Flame, mesmerized by its beauty.

[Creationis, II:12] Over time, the Mason was transformed by the Flame. It would bestow wisdom upon him, and showed him virtues such as love and empathy.

[Creationis, II:13] In time, the Mason grew to love the Flame, vowing to serve it and its needs until the end of everything.

[Creationis, II:14] And thus, the Mason had a new purpose.

[Creationis, II:15] And so did he tend to the Flame.

[Creationis, II:16] Heeding its call, the Mason once again took up the mantle of creation.

[Creationis, II:17] With his great power, he again ripped the Verse in half.

[Creationis, II:18] In one half, he left the Flame and its Verse, and in the other, he crafted a home to live within.

[Creationis, II:19] This home he called the Heavens, and from there, he tended the Flame.

[Creationis, II:20] The Heavens were a beautiful place of light, devoid of the shadows that populated Hel, and was a fitting tribute to the glory that was the Flame.

---

[Creationis, III:1] For time immemorial, the Mason existed in his palace of Heaven, content that he had brought order to the Verse.

[Creationis, III:2] Yet as the centuries turned to millennia he grew discontent, for the Ancients had long abandoned him, and the Mason became lonesome.

[Creationis, III:3] For having only the solace of Heaven was a lonesome existence, and he yearned for companionship.

[Creationis, III:4] Yet the only spark of vitality in all the Verse had been the Flame, and nothing else.

[Creationis, III:5] One day, the Mason conceived a great and wonderous plan; a plan that would bring him closer to the Flame.

[Creationis, III:6] The Mason would share his love of the Flame with the Verse by creating others that would bring him kinship and come to love the Flame as he did.

[Creationis, III:7] And so did the Mason draw from the power of the Flame to create once more, creating creatures that would be a fitting tribute to their birthright.

[Creationis, III:8] Hundreds of these creatures did he create, and he named them Angels.

[Creationis, III:9] They were everything he had hoped for; beautiful and animated, compassionate and wise, and they tended the Flame and enlightened the Mason in the mysteries only beings born of the light knew.

[Creationis, III:10] For the Mason had been the spawn of both Light and Dark, and while he loved the Flame greatly he could never know the full embrace of its' warmth.

[Creationis, III:11] And so did the Mason recognize that a few of the Angels he had created stood out from their brethren, exemplifying every aspect of the Flame that they so cherished.

[Creationis, III:12] Full of radiance and glory, they possessed not only the abilities of their kin, but the power the Mason himself wielded; the power of Creation.

[Creationis, III:13] A dozen of these Angels existed, and the Mason bestowed upon them names of his own choosing, and came to know them as Archangels, the strongest of their kind.

[Creationis, III:14] He tasked these twelve with the duty of bringing order and purpose to the other Angels and becoming the stewards of Heaven.

[Creationis, III:15] For millennia, the angels and the Archangels tended to the Flame, loving it unconditionally.

[Creationis, III:16] As the Archangels grew, so did their powers, until one day they were wise and strong enough to fashion their very own creations.

[Creationis, III:17] And so did the Archangels create, drawing from the Flame as the Mason had before them.

[Creationis, III:18] Their creation was that of Eden, a massive, living orb that drew sustenance from the Flame.

[Creationis, III:19] Upon this orb they divined forth many more creations, such as plants, beings that grew and fed from the Flame’s light.

[Creationis, III:20] They also created animals, beings that fed from the plants.

[Creationis, III:21] Their most prized creation, however, was that of a creature that could learn to love and appreciate the Flame as much as they had.

[Creationis, III:22] Into this being the Archangels instilled the potential for all of the virtues that the Flame had imparted to them.

[Creationis, III:23] They crafted them to feed from the plants and animals, forever reliant on the Flame’s light to give them sustenance.

[Creationis, III:24] They gave them intelligence and the ability to communicate, in so that they could praise the Flame amongst one another.

[Creationis, III:25] The Archangels named these creatures Man and loved them dearly.

Creationis: IV – VI

[Creationis, IV:1] And so did all life in the Verse live in harmony and bliss, content in admiring the Flame and its’ glorious incandescence for time immemorial.

[Creationis, IV:2] But after what could only be counted as eons, the Mason again stirred with discontent; for his most beloved children, the Archangels, sought to tend to their creations of animals, plants and Men rather than convene and parlay with the Mason, leaving their father to reign over the Heavens in lonesome solitude.

[Creationis, IV:3] This had made the Mason loathsome, and as the centuries passed, he turned away from the Archangels and their machinations, seeking to travel the currents of the Verse for solace from his antipathy.

[Creationis, IV:4] In time, the Mason had even forgotten the love and embrace of the Flame itself, and was nearly consumed by his animus and lonesomeness, until he was stricken with a great epiphany.

[Creationis, IV:5] The Mason would design a new progeny, a Thirteenth Archangel, one that would know only love for him, and not of the Flame and its’ power of creation.

[Creationis, IV:6] And so, with his great and powerful tools of creation, the Mason would take not from the Flame to make, but instead stole from the shadows of Hel in so that his child would never lust for the Light over he.

[Creationis, IV:7] And so, with a blackened heart and the darkness of Hel itself, the Thirteenth Archangel was crafted by the Mason’s hand. This would become known as the Prime Hubris.

[Creationis, IV:8] The Thirteenth was different than Her kindred Archangels, for Her skill was pale and sickly as harvested ivory, and Her wings bore a shade black as the longest, darkest night.

[Creationis, IV:9] Yet the Mason had been successful, for She loved Her father more than anything else in the entire Verse, and to the Mason’s eye, she had been the most beautiful creation he had ever wrought into the Verse.

[Creationis, IV:10] The Mason, elated with his new creation, summoned all the Archangels to Heaven to gaze upon his design, for he was eager to share his work with his kin and family.

[Creationis, IV:11] And so did the Archangels come in haste, beckoned as they were, for their father had been absent from the palaces of Heaven for so very long.

[Creationis, IV:12] But when the Angels had returned to Heaven, they did not share their father’s elation, but were instead overcome with disgust.

[Creationis, IV:13] For where the Mason had seen beauty within the Thirteenth, the Archangels could only perceive wickedness; they had looked upon their Sister with revulsion, mortified that their father would look upon such a creation with adoration.

[Creationis, IV:14] For the Archangels had known that the Thirteenth was not like they, for She was not born of the Flame, but of the darkness of Hel.

[Creationis, IV:15] And this appalled and terrified the Archangels, blessed as they were to be Children of the Flame.

[Creationis, IV:16] And so, the Archangels insisted their Sister be cast from the Heavens, to be destroyed and discarded to the shadows of Hel, for fear that She would taint the realms of Heaven and Eden with blight and defilement.

[Creationis, IV:17] But the Mason cherished the Thirteenth so much that he could not bear to cast Her away, and so did he bid Her to live with him in solitude, within the farthest corners of Heaven, away from Her brethren who would look upon her with disdain and call for her ruin.

[Creationis, IV:18] And so, the Mason was content for time immemorial, secluded in the farthest reaches of heaven with his daughter, lonely no longer

---

[Creationis, V:1] As the eons came and passed, a dark force had begun to stir within the Thirteenth Archangel; the essence of Anger, a vice of which had never been known to that of Heaven or Eden.

[Creationis, V:2] Having faced the scorn and ridicule of her kindred Angels, the Thirteenth began judging them as flawed and broken creations, unworthy of Her own love and empathy.

[Creationis, V:3] For She could never forgive Her kin for insisting her destruction, even despite her father’s great and unconditional love.

[Creationis, V:4] And thus, Her Anger would turn to Loathing, and from Loathing, Pride; a vice in which the Thirteenth reveled in, learning to scorn her brethren Archangels, and seeing them as lesser to She in every way.

[Creationis, V:5] For it had been the Mason himself whom reassured Her for eons and eons that She was even more glorious and graceful as Her brethren born of the Flame, and that She was beauty incarnate to behold.

[Creationis, V:6] And so Pride had consumed the Thirteenth, and would in time stir even a darker, more sinister vice within her shadowy soul; a vice that would be come to known as Hatred, and that of which claimed dominion over the Thirteenth

[Creationis, V:7] This First Hatred is known to us as the Prime Hatred, and the Thirteenth delighted in its’ company.

[Creationis, V:8] The Prime Hatred would soon consume the Thirteenth, becoming part of Her very essence, and would drive Her to wish ruin upon everything that had worshiped or drew life from the Flame.

[Creationis, V:9] So zealous was Her hatred of the Flame, the Thirteenth would come to even loathe her own creator, the Mason, touched by the radiant incandescence as he was.

[Creationis, V:10] And so, one fateful eve, the Thirteenth denounced Her brethren and father, and would abscond from her place within the Heavens, abandoning the realm of the Archangels and The Mason for the sanctuary and shadows of Hel itself.

---

[Creationis, VI:1] The Thirteenth’s exodus from Heaven had saddened the Mason beyond words could ever communicate. [Creationis, VI:2] His most beloved creation and child, the Thirteenth, had abandoned him, much like the Archangels had prior.

[Creationis, VI:3] The Mason knew that the Thirteenth would not survive long within the confines of Hel, for She was young and filled with ignorance and nativity; She would find no safe harbor amongst the Ancients or their domain, even having been created from their stolen shadows of Hel.

[Creationis, VI:4] Yet as heartbroken as he was, he could not face the expanses of Hel in search of his daughter, for it was the Ancients domain, and he had been cast off by them so many eons ago.

[Creationis, VI:5] And it was known to the Mason that he would know great pain for intruding upon the Ancients within their sacred home if he were to pursue his daughter into the depts of Hel.

Technology & Science

Theoria Humoris

Like all things within the Venerated Republic the practice and application of medicine is both heavily tied into and regulated by the Venerated Church and its teachings. The basis of all medical theory stems from High Avatar Felenius, the embodiment of Compassion, who walked alongside Decus himself. It was she who first set out upon the path of curing the ailed and disparaged and was aided in this endeavor by the divine teachings of Decus.

Her practices were one of balancing both the body and the Virtues, for the soul could corrupt the body as easily as the body could the soul. She was said to possess immense knowledge of medicine and that her compassion alone was able to cure even the most sickly and desolate.

While her teachings and methods have been lost to the annals of time, one quote would become the very foundation of all future medical practices within the Venerated Republic. Seen as divine scriptures, as wholly truthful and unwavering as the words of Decus himself, she is recorded as having said, “Knitted together of limestone, ash, salt, sulfur, I stand in awe at the immensity of our creation.”

It is upon these words the practice of Humorism was eventually established by the monastic cloisters that would eventually become the Venerated Apothecary Corps. Combining the ideals of alchemical practices that were prevalent during the time with the foundations of Decusian teachings.

For centuries these fundamental humors have been the Decusian scientific understanding of the human body’s interaction with the environment, as well as defined the way in which disease and illness work, how emotions fluctuate, and the impacts of Virtues, Vices, seasons, diet, age, and sex on health.

Humorism is the idea that a body of creation is composed of four basic substances: limestone, ash, salt and sulfur. These are also referred to as the four ‘humors’, which are in balance when a person is healthy and become unbalanced when ailed. These substances also have four corresponding fundamental fluids: blood, choler (yellow bile), phlegm, and black bile.

For centuries these fundamental humors have been the Decusian scientific understanding of the human body’s interaction with the environment, as well as defined the way in which disease and illness work, how emotions fluctuate, and the impacts of Virtues, Vices, seasons, diet, age, and sex on health.

The humors were also used to refer to four individual psychological temperaments: melancholic, sanguine, choleric, and phlegmatic. This reflects the humoral concept that physical health and individual personality were part of the same whole.

These methods extend to nearly all aspects of life, especially those related to the practice of faith and Virtue. Prayer may be prescribed to help balance a choleric temperament and penance for the sanguine. Those who lack or lax in the practice of faith are doomed to find their humors eternally unbalanced. It is believed through the following of Virtue and the good practice of faith one may ensure a balanced temperament, healthy body, and soul.

Due to the difficulty of balancing one’s humors, people tend to have a predominant humor which characterizes an individual’s temperament or ‘complexion’. People who are melancholic dominate present a dark and sad demeanor but are oftentimes creative. Those of the Sanguine disposition are vibrant and mirthful, oftentimes very social. Phlegmatic people are pale and listless, calm in demeanor and tone. Whereas those who present Cholerically are angry and jaundiced. A small amount of disproportion between the humors is expected and seen as perfectly normal and healthy. It is only when that imbalance begins to tip that we may fall ill and it is only through bringing those humor back in balance that one might recover.

The ideal proportion is stated as: one quarter as much phlegm as blood, one-sixteenth as much choler as blood, and one-sixty-fourth as much melancholy as blood.

The foundation of medical treatment is the use of opposites to resolve imbalances. Treatments seek to target the overabundance, or deficiency, of any given humor and monitor the nuanced changes in the patient towards restoring their physical or mental health.

These humors can be brought back in balance through a vast variety of different methods, depending on the exact symptoms and cause of the imbalance. It may be as simple as changing your diet, as taxing as relocating to a different climate, or as invasive as the extraction of a limb.

Each Humor has a corresponding diet associated with temperament; Sanguine (sweet), choleric (bitter), melancholic (sour), phlegmatic (salty). A general health practice is to refrain from eating foods that match your dominate humor to ensure balance; a phlegmatic person would be told to ingest Choleric Foods, a Choleric person would ingest Phlegmatic foods. Melancholics would ingest a Sanguine diet and likewise Sanguine would ingest Melancholic foods.

When changes to lifestyle or diet fail or the imbalance is too great it falls to medicine and more drastic means to bring the humors to balance once again. Common treatments include: Bloodletting, emetics and purging.

As medical science has advanced, so too has the idea of humors and what they encompass. More advanced medicines and treatments generally become associated with a specific humor. Things like depressants, such as Lidogine, for example, are associated with melancholy, given to patients during surgery so that their choleric humor does not become imbalanced during the operation. Likewise, they may be given to a patient who exhibits prominent choleric traits in order to balance their temperament.

Mutagen, described as the ‘thread’ that ‘knits’ the four humors, is connected to all and is able to unbalance all four humors. Unlike the four humors, there is no ‘balance’ of the Mutagen humor, any addition would lead to an unbalance of the rest of the humors, therefore to be avoided. In order to balance one’s ‘mutagen’ one must balance one’s four base humors.

In more recent times the idea of a fifth humor known as “Mutagen” has begun to cause strife within the medical community. The first discovery of the humor dates as far back as 1214 AS when in the height of the Decusian renaissance when the first Modicum Oculus was created; allowing for observation of things invisible to the naked eye. From such study, an abnormality was observed which permeated throughout the blood – with concentrations within the brain. These abnormalities varied from person to person, and in the infancy of its study, displayed elevated levels of the mutagen with the criminally insane – which were the inventors main source of subjects.

For decades after, the study of Mutagen was forbidden by the Church. After the Torment (medically referred to as “Infirmus Aegrotus”) outbreak of 1313 AS it was found that those who possessed high levels of Torment saturation also possessed a heavy imbalance of the Mutagen humor. Only after this discovery did the Venerated Church decide to allow the Apothecary to further its understanding.

Mutagen, described as the ‘thread’ that ‘knits’ the four humors by its proponents, is connected to all and is able to unbalance all four humors. Unlike the four humors, there is no ‘balance’ of the Mutagen humor, any addition would lead to an unbalance of the rest of the humors, therefore to be avoided. In order to balance one’s ‘mutagen’ one must balance one’s four base humors.

Curiouser still, the Mutagen humor has been described as mutating when mixed with the mutagens from the blood of other beings of which the Apothecarians derived the humors namesake. The study of this phenomenon and the human body’s reaction is known as hematology.

The debate surrounding this new science is a contentious one. Conservative minds believe that the future of the Republic should focus on lessening that of the mutagen in the blood, specifically in enriching the soul through Virtuous living. Furthermore, that tampering with the humors to create new, unique mutagen humors is tampering with creation itself, and push the Ecclesiastical Authority to ban the practice outright.

With limited understanding, the conversation surrounding this humor is varying and ever-changing. Most Apothecary academics agree that an excess of Mutagen is believed to be the cause of delirium, or madness. Studies have shown that the exposure to Vice, or the practice of magic is believed to exacerbate an individual’s exposure to Mutagen. This comes as little surprise to the average scholar, as it is widely accepted in Decusian culture that the Resolve were the ones to re-introducing magic practice to the masses in the early years of Torment

“Knitted together of limestone, ash, salt, sulfur, I stand in awe at the immensity of our creation.” – High Avatar Felenius

Vapos Res Novae

The Vapos Res Novae, translated to common as simply the “Revolution of Steam”, is a phrase that appears to have been coined in a letter dated from the 12th of Flowerbloom, 1321, written by statesman and poet Pierse Octavius (hailing from the Eastern Baronies), and addressed to Foundry Seneschal Lord Kenneth Gambol. In what can only be called sensationalism, Octavius insisted in his missive that the Republic had begun a death march of sorts, crawling slowly towards the inevitable decline of Decusianism proper. Octavius writes: “It is without pleasure that I announce the death of our great Republic’s union between both Country and Faith. Though our efforts have long been aimed at the betterment of Man, it is clear that we are undeniably set upon a path of mutually assured self destruction. For nearly one thousand years, our great culture has struggled to meet the demands of a conquest steeped in religious fervor. Today, centuries into this great conquest, we reap the fruits of our labor; yet it is without joy, applause, or effort, for this fruit is indeed rotten. The Western Territories has all but been destroyed, ravaged by the Torment, and the Baronies is naught but a corpulent beast, assisted in movement by the burning of coal and the labor of a thousand strong backs of Foundry tradesmen. And though we have lived in comfort, it is a sad, decaying thing. It is not by chance that we have arrived at what will surely be an apocalyptic conclusion. Tragically, the Reckoning has, over the countless centuries, paved the way for a wagon that has now run away from the road; for it in our haste to meet the demands of an ever-growing empire, our advancements in both industry and technology has nearly devoured the very faith we claim it was to serve! Because of this, I implore you to place sanctions upon the Foundry and its officials, from the lowly laborer to the Seneschals themselves, lest we wake to find that the Republic has slipped the yoke of the faith and devolved into heresy – all at the hands of this revolution of steam.”

Indeed, the idea of a new social order based upon industry and convenience was popular throughout the Eastern Baronies, a region of Vitaveus that the Foundry has been well represented within, and the area that would become the birthplace of steam technologies. Before the onset of the Torment, and the coming of what many believe to be the Apocalypse, the fledgling beginnings of the Vapos Res Novae, or the Revolution of Steam, had been readily apparent. The experimentation of producing and harnessing steam as an energy source had been toyed with by the Foundry throughout the late 13th century. It had not been until the the early 1300s that a more progressive clerical atmosphere within the Venerated Republic of Decus had allowed for more widespread experimentation and, in some cases, implementation of fledgling steam apparatuses within the Eastern Baronies. This adoption of technology that by it’s very nature had been so alien to the laymen of the 14th century had ignited a practical renaissance of technological advancement and discovery in countless fields of trade and science; a golden-era which is now referred to as the Vapos Res Novae.

While this renaissance was no doubt affected by the emergence of the Torment in 1313, it was in no way cut short. Indeed, the Torment has shaped the demands of society perhaps more than any other single event in the history of the Venerated Republic. Combined with the fledgling sciences birthed from the Vapos Res Novae, this synergy of renaissance and apocalypse resulting in exponential growth in fields dedicated primarily to the survival of mankind, such as medicine, weaponry, personal defense, and of course, biology. As a result of this rather unorthodox fusion of golden-age meets dark-age, technological marvels such as hand-held firearms and personal explosives now litter the Prodaian front, taking the place of unwieldy siege weaponry and heavy cannons. Apothecaries throughout the Republic have made few strides in the treatment of illnesses and diseases, but the invention of the hypodermic needle promises new discoveries, and new ideas. It too, is yet another by-product of the Revolution of Steam, and an exciting revelation to those involved in the field of medicine.

It had not been until the the early 1300s that a more progressive clerical atmosphere within the Venerated Republic of Decus had allowed for more widespread experimentation and, in some cases, implementation of fledgling steam apparatuses within the Eastern Baronies.

After all, one must not forget that it was nearly three hundred years ago, early in the 11th century of our grand Republic, when medical schools were forming in isolated portions in the Eastern Baronies, cataloging and dissecting whatever corpses they could procure. They even provided care to those desperate few with both the courage to go under the knife and the coin to pay for it. Such services offered at these oft mistrusted and maligned establishments included bleeding, leeching, dental extractions, amputations, the removal of cataracts, and trepanning. Today, In the 14th century; this is largely unchanged. Medical advancements in the republic have noticeably lagged behind those of the martial sciences and the predominant method of care for internal medicine relies on an understanding of balancing the Five Humors- phlegm, black and yellow bile, blood, and lastly, mutagen; which is believed to be a toxic element that corrupts and poisons the host’s blood, and even their mind. The most basic apothecary training dictates that these humors must maintain a nuanced balance for a fully healthy specimen, and it is the physician’s job is to bring stability to the patient’s body and mind regardless of what they need to cut off, remove, or burn away.

In a bizarre twist of fate, the Torment has changed how Decusians view medicine and it’s necessity in modern day life, and apothecaries have begun to ply their archaic and arcane trade on a willing populace, learning more about their craft each and every day. Most notably, their grasp of the fifth humor has grown in leaps and bounds with some apothecaries calling for it to be separated into its own category, called a mutation. These forward thinking Medicae have begun to establish a new field of Allopathy known simply as hematology; the practice of purposely bringing imbalance to the humors to enhance and improve physical and mental capacity. Among the more conservative factions of the Apothecary Corps, this practice has been compared to witchcraft and worse as the process purposely introduces mutagen to the body in large quantities- defying every standard care practice, as outside the hematologists themselves, it is believed that the introduction of the fifth humor to a human body is tantamount to becoming ‘of the ill’. These very same beliefs have added fuel to the fire regarding the persecution of mages, as the fifth humor has been found in higher than average quantities among those who practice the arcane arts when studied postmortem. Common theory dictates that these individuals are tainted by their craft, and it is mutagen that leads to the diseases of the mind witches often succumb to. Unfortunately, this has led those mundane individuals afflicted with mental illness and diseases of the mind to be associated with Witchcraft, Dae influences, and even the Ill.

In a bizarre twist of fate, the Torment has changed how Decusians view medicine and it’s necessity in modern day life, and apothecaries have begun to ply their archaic and arcane trade on a willing populace, learning more about their craft each and every day.

Outside of medicine, progress reigns uninhibited. Factories have begun to spring up in the Eastern Baronies, and though many are now broken shells of wood and mortar in the wake of the torment, their purpose is not forgotten. The human powered assembly line has been introduced by Foundry efforts, expediting the forging process of simple items like nails, and there have even been fledgling efforts at mass producing simple blades from molds or even small metal plates.. With the advancements of metallurgy and forging, the process of getting iron from the mines and turning it into a steel blade to press into the hands of an eager Legionnaire has never been easier. Though trade routes are often cut off and made inert through outbreaks and worse, the Republic is strong, albeit dwarfed in size and scope in the past thirty years of hardship.

Unfettered growth has led to a mismatch of ethics, and capabilities in the Republic’s ability to shape the war effort, both at home and abroad. Indeed, while weaponry and the sciences have adapted in such a way that the Torment is no longer the overwhelming threat it may have once been, it does not seem to be advancing fast enough to save what is left of the Populi- despite the advent of so called ‘Holy Weaponry’, and technology which in other, more peaceful times might be described as monstrous and inhumane. Such ethical concerns are no longer pressing to the venerated Church of Decus, nor the citizenry that pay it tribute.

In a time where life is cheap, and Ascension is the only solace granted to a dying people, these technologies are a ray of hope. Where some might see weapons of destruction, capable of putting ten to fifteen bodies to the torch in seconds, others see Redemption incarnated. A redemption granted through chemical concoctions brought to the front by the Foundry which has gained unprecedented influence throughout the republic by stepping into the role of technocrat saviors, bringing hope in some of the darkest times the Republic has ever faced. This hope is not without cost, and efforts are driven by what amounts to slave labor, from both willing citizens, and penitent criminals forced into providing what the Republic needs to buy off their sentence. These camps experience horrific conditions, but nearly every worker performs their duties without complaint. Propaganda throughout the Republic sees such individuals as heroes, strong and resilient workers that any man or woman can aspire to be, and for the first time in a millennia, there is pride in taking Civis Vox under the foundry- joining the machine that has driven the steam and clockwork revolutions, aiming to to save mankind from sure destruction. Never mind that the machine requires blood, sweat and tears to turn its wheels- for in some regions with high Foundry presence, such a thing is now viewed as an honor on par with joining the Legion or becoming a Clergyman. This has come part and parcel with the technocratic revolution, and has given rise to a secular brand of Decusianism that is worrying to members of the Church, but is allowing access to the common citizen’s motivations and desires in ways they had previously not managed. Specifically – the poor and destitute; the Everyman. As war machines like flamethrowers, muskets and handheld piston saws move from the factory floor to Legion hands, so too does the heart of the Republic swell and grow- with more and more of mankind turning their eyes to ascension, taking pride in their church and way of life.

A Treatise on Evil

Excerpt from ” A Treatise on Evil: The Nether Races”, by Azemar Tangus. Unknown circulation era, due to this work being considered illegal.

The daemonic creature, as we have referred to as “the Dae’” earlier in this lexicon, represents one of the most powerful creatures of not only their native realm of Hell itself, yet of the Mortal realm as well. They are beings of pure, unadulterated evil, whose biggest pleasure come from indulging in the suffering of other creatures and races, namely that of the human kind. The Dae’ are an ancient and mysterious creatures, its origins believed to date back to times before even our own human kind walked the surface of Eden. While divine cannon from the Church of Decus define the Dae’ to be creations of the Thirteenth Archangel, the true origins of these diabolical creatures remain a mystery to many. What little we as humans know, collectively, is veiled and kept hidden from public knowledge, no doubt locked away in clerical archives and libraries. It is my duty, however, to relate as much information as I possibly can about the mysterious creatures that dwell below us by providing to you information and facts never before released to the general citizenry of the Republic.

There is little that is known for sure of the creature dubbed “The Daemon”. Some speculate that the creatures we know of as demons, daemons and Dae’ are simply physical manifestations of true daemons, with their true essences being limited to their native realm, that of Hell itself. Others believe that these daemons are, in reality, flesh and blood creatures whom roam the far reaches of the Eden. Whatever the differing opinions of experts and scholars may be, not one can dispute the ungodly power that such a creature wields. Ancient reports of Templar happening upon rogue daemons during the early expanses of our Republic detail epic encounters. Battles between early clergymen and these foul beasts often resulted in numerous casualties. Described as wielding colossal strength, a wide library of magical powers, and the ability to sustain true fight, it is thought that a daemon is a worthy match for any army of decent size. It is with this power that many speculate they rule over both their enemies along with their kindred with an iron fist.

Opposing viewpoints aside, a somewhat concrete perspective of the origins of the daemon’s power has been accepted in nearly all research circles since the founding of the Venerated Republic. It has been a widely accepted theory that the Dae’ draw their power from, surprisingly, our own Mortal realm. How is this possible? It is through the commission of certain actions and deeds by those within this physical domain of existence that is thought to actually strengthen the Dae’. Many scholars and priests within the Church of Decus have defined these actions and deeds as vices, polar opposites of the Virtues in which the Decusian faith is based upon. Per Decusian cannon, it is believed that with every action and deed performed by we as men that goes against the sacred eight virtues of the Decusian faith, we inhibit ourselves as a race from “ascending” to a new era of existence. Some within the Church believe that these misdeeds not only inhibit ascension, but also work to fuel the denizens of Hell (namely daemonkin) with the sustenance they so lustfully crave and require.

It is through the commission of certain actions and deeds by those within this physical domain of existence that is thought to actually strengthen the Dae’.

These misdeeds, or vices, have long been the object of study by many of priest and clergymen. The most modern and common belief currently within the circles of the Decusian Church is that these misdeeds can be literally defined, specifically as thirteen separate ideas and beliefs that the Dae’ gain power from. Curiously enough, these commissions usually come in the form of spiritual ideas rather than physical acts, as do most of the eight virtues of the Decusian Church. The process of Daemon empowerment through the commission of vices is more complicated than I would lead you to believe, dear reader. The commissions of these thirteen vices, in fact, is thought to only fuel a particular breed or classification of daemon. How does this work? As mentioned previously, the vices in which daemons gain power from are separated and classified into thirteen specific ideals. Rallying behind each one of these ideals is a collective of specific daemons whom draw their power from the commission of only the specific vice that they are bound to. A commission of the act of murder, for instance, may “feed” one daemon of power, but not another. It is this precarious balance and ordering that we now take a closer look at.

In short, it is believed that the daemon’s most important task in life is to simply manipulate and persuade those of the Mortal realm into committing these acts in order to fuel their “breed”, or similar daemonic entities that draw power from the same sort of vices and misdeeds. How does a daemon manipulate and persuade we of the living breathing world, you ask? This idea is a heated and debated subject amongst all professional circles. Per the cannon of the Decusian Faith, it is believed that our universe as a whole is protected by a series of rules, known to us as the great Doctrine. Within our lore and religious liturgies, it is said that those of both other-worldly realms, Heaven and Hell, cannot directly influence our own mortal realm due to the rules set forth within the Doctrine. The idea of free will, the freedom of our kind to make our own conscious choices, is the principal rule of our universe as defined by the Doctrine. Those within the Church that view the story of the Doctrine to be an unquestionable truth argue that it is for this fact, and this fact alone, daemon-kind cannot and do not affect our will and decisions as human beings. If the dae’ cannot physically alter or manipulate our own realm, how does it ever conceivably gain power from us? The most accepted theory amongst most all professional scholars and priests is the rather disturbing belief that we, as humans, both inadvertently and purposefully provide the denizens of Hell power with every vice we commit. The murder of an innocent person, for example, works to fuel the powers of Hell, even if the murderer took the victim’s life out of simple spite and without intention to strengthen an unseen deity of another realm. On the flip side of this, it is believed that other individuals of our world and race purposefully commit and manipulate others to commit vices to fuel the legions of Hell. Be it a warped belief they will be somehow compensated for their actions, or otherwise, it is a known fact that such “devil worshippers” exist

Within our lore and religious liturgies, it is said that those of both other-worldly realms, Heaven and Hell, cannot directly influence our own mortal realm due to the rules set forth within the Doctrine“

]Representing each of the thirteen vices which empower the Dae’, a disciplined order stand as symbols of their significance and power. Each of the thirteen vices are represented by either a matriarchal and patriarchal system of rulership, or simply a “Throne”. These Thrones serve to fulfill two roles; they act to classify each of the thirteen vices from each other, and the ideas in themselves, and to also offer a form of command and subjugation amongst the Dae’ races. This is achieved through the mythical “Throne Bearers”; daemons of immeasurable power and control who claim absolute dominion over the rest of their race and kind. Each Throne Bearer is responsible for both all Dae’ under their specific vice, or “throne”. For example, a Dae’ commissioned under the Throne of Murder would be strengthened from a murder committed by an inhabitant of the mortal realm. This particular Dae’, for all intents and purposes, would be considered a “Daemon of Murder”. While not ever specifically executing the actual murder of another living creature, the Dae’ none the less draws power from the misdeed.

As we have mentioned numerous times before, it is believed that the thirteen thrones represent that of thirteen ideologies, polar opposites of the eight virtues in which the Decusian Church is founded upon. These ideologies are known as vices, and are listed and precariously defined below.

Falsehood (the telling of untruths, unfaithful actions and deeds)

Hatred (feelings of intense dislike, anger, hostility, or animosity, and the acts committed from them)

Cowardice (lack of courage, or behaviors that shows such a lack; a father leaving his son to die out of lack of courage is a prime example of this vice)

Enlightenment (the enlightening of somebody or a cause of the enlightening of somebody through the means of dark pacts with the throne bearer of this vice itself, i.e. the signing of one’s soul for monetary or other gains)

Sacrilege (the disrespectful or irreverent treatment of something others consider worthy of respect or reverence, i.e. the defacement of a holy symbol by a follower of its faith)

Covetous (having a strong desire to possess something that belongs to somebody else, and deeds committed out of this desire)

Shame (negative emotions that combine feelings of dishonor, unworthiness, and embarrassment)

Pride (haughty attitudes and actions shown by those who believe, often unjustifiably, that they are better than others)

Murder (the committing of murder, tried and true)

Chaos (a peculiar vice, one whose deeds are most often than not dictated by the throne bearer itself)

Wrath (the vengeance, punishment, or destruction wreaked by somebody in anger, and the fury often marked by a desire for vengeance which causes such other deeds to be committed)

Lust (the strong physical desire to have relation with somebody, without associated feelings of love or affection, i.e. the conductance of adultery or forced acts)

Hubris (inordinate pride in oneself or one's achievements above the Eight Virtues, Decus, and Creation.)

As a collective, the thirteen thrones are referred to as “The Pantheon of the Thirteen”.

Theories on Undead

Excerpt from ” Theories on Undead”, by an unknown author. Unknown circulation era, due to this work being considered illegal.

There are two methods in which the Undead can arise; naturally and artificially. Examining the natural method of creation, the Undead are the byproducts of a combination of an environment’s latent magical energy with one or more moriums of an unrighteous or tortured soul (known as a “dimsoul”). Essentially, the Undead are a byproduct of one or more moriums that have a portion of a dimsoul “leaking” its will upon an area that is either naturally receptive to the creation of magic or an area in which has been saturated with the heavy use of magic. Additionally, in order for the “creation” of Undead to occur, raw humanoid materials (such as corpses or skeletons) are often necessary, but not always required; the type of Undead that can result from the interaction of a dim soul morium and its environment can vary based upon a number of factors. For example, a mass grave site will most assuredly produce Undead that are created from human remains, while a less corpse riddled area may in fact create perverse spiritual entities derived from the nightmares of the dimsoul in which it was spawned from

…in order for the “creation” of Undead to occur, raw humanoid materials (such as corpses or skeletons) are often necessary, but not always required; the type of Undead that can result from the interaction of a dim soul morium and its environment can vary based upon a number of factors.

The process in which a dimsoul spawns Undead creatures is completely autonomous and is not in anyway a sentient act by the soul that inhabits the morium. Rather, it is a peculiar and extremely rare byproduct of a small remnant of a tortured or unrighteous soul that invariably extends its willpower over latent magical energies within an area, thusly resulting in the dimsoul extending its misery, hatred or fear into the mortal realm via. the use of magical power. The larger portion of a dimsoul that a morium holds stored within it will invariably lead to the faster and more plentiful creation of Undead, and coupled with an area rife with previous magical use, can result in a single dimsoul morium creating up to a dozen undead. The actual act of a dimsoul morium creating an undead is but a single spark; a brief but violent infusion of the dimsouls’ misery, contempt, hatred or violence into a suitable host made sentient and whole through the latent magical energies coalescing into a creation spell of sorts. Larger dimsouls invariably create more sentient Undead, but a dimsoul will never pass along it’s former soul's consciousness or memories; only the driving emotions behind what makes it a dimsoul.

Areas that are saturated with Undead through non artificial means are normally the result of numerous dimsoul moriums extending their will into environment (which, for areas such as battlefields, hospitals, mass graves or site of mass casualties, a single human could potentially create dozens of moriums from their passing). It appears there is some sort of resonance effect with multiple moriums in an area in which Undead are actively being created, as other dimsoul moriums are far more likely to infuse the spark of unlife into human remains if the process is already underway nearby.

The process of creating Undead within an area can be manipulated artificially through many different means and methods, the most common being seeding an area with extremely strong dimsoul moriums and casting various high power magnitude spells within an area. It is believed there are also spells that can also help jump-start the “leaking” process of a dimsoul morium, thus creating a chain reaction within a suitable area to saturate it with undead. Furthermore, it appears that through the use of these sorts of artificial seedings, the undead spawned forth are sometimes controllable (to a minor extent) by the necromancer responsible for such a heinous and unnatural act.

Vade Mecum Atrocitas

Brief explanation of the history and origins of the fabled Atrocitas…

The Vade Mecum Atrocitas is a publication that has been in circulation in various forms for nearly a millennium. Thought to have been originally translated from recovered texts of the Collatian Dynasty, the Vade Mecum Atrocitas has subsisted through both ancient and modern Decusian culture despite repeated attempts to scour it from the annals of history. While no modern scholar could accurately surmise what texts or ancient knowledge may have originally served as the basis of the present-day Atrocitas, it is inferred that these recovered Collatian works had been centered around the occult and paranormal. Modern day editions of the Atrocitas, as it is most commonly referred to as, most likely resembles little of what Collatian literature it may of been based upon, simply due to it’s nature of being a collaborative work stitched together over literal centuries. Contemporary versions of the Atrocitas consist mostly of the accounts of first-hand experiences and observations of and with various metaphysical and paranormal entities that are purported by the Atrocitas to have or have had existed within Vitaveus. Ascribed to a plethora of different authors over a varied period of time, the present-day editions of the Atrocitas is a sprawling compendium of information covering a large range of topics and ideals, all of which share common underlying themes relating to that of the paranormal, the metaphysical, the esoteric and the occult.

The Atrocitas, as other works like it, have been a subject of controversy within the Decusian culture since the original publication and distribution of the work. The Atrocitas’ various chapters and treatises cover a wide variety of themes and ideas deemed heretical and even blasphemous by the Venerated Church of Decus, and thus, has been considered contraband for nearly as long as it’s existed in published form. Originally declared to be an illegal work of literature by the Inconcessus Accord of 917 A.S., mere possession of a copy of the Vade Mecum Atrocitas remains illegal to this day. In more zealous periods of the Republic’s history (of which ebb and flow much unlike a unsettled lake), the mere possession of the Atrocitas begot the ire of the Venerated Inquisition, often resulting in outright execution. While it is evident that the Atrocitas is the work of an innumerable amount of authors over various periods of time (notably, both before and after the widespread adoption of the Decusian culture upon Vitaveus), individual works within the Vade Mecum Atrocitas are often attributed to one of a select few recurring individual names and characters. This peculiar form of attribution can be for one of many reasons; the most obvious being the inherent danger of being attributed as an author of inherently illegal literature. Some scholars believe that this peculiar authoring method is a form of recognizing and even honoring the most early collaborators to the Atrocitas, and has transformed into a tradition of sorts. Yet there are a select few that, beyond any logical reason, favor more mystical explanations, particularly that the small pantheon of authors attributed to the Atrocitas are in fact immortal beings, inexplicably adding to the Atrocitas over the course of a millennium.

The Atrocitas’ various chapters and treatises cover a wide variety of themes and ideas deemed heretical and even blasphemous by the Venerated Church of Decus, and thus, has been considered contraband for nearly as long as it’s existed in published form.

Mysticism and paranormal explanations aside, it cannot be disputed that the Vade Mecum Atrocitas carries with it a plethora of unanswered questions regarding it’s very nature. While obtaining a copy of the Atrocitas can usually be done without an exorbitant amount of difficulty (especially within less regulated areas of the Republic, such as the Midlands or even the Western Territories), the sources of the Atrocitas’ publication are often a heavily guarded secret. One could deduce that a centralized and organized establishment is behind the publication of the Atrocitas, as nearly every decade, a new edition of the work is distributed among the Republic. Yet do to the very nature of the works the Atrocitas purports to document in sometimes meticulous detail, one can never assume that a copy of the Atrocitas is truly genuine, if one can even attribute such a word to a work such as the Atrocitas. Incidentally, simply due to it’s nature of documenting and detailing creatures, events and occurrences that simply do not exist in modern-day Vitaveus, many look upon the Atrocitas as fantastical nonsense. Many present-day scholars have even petitioned the Venerated Church to add the Atrocitas as an exception from the Inconcessus Accord, under the premise that the work represents a masterpiece of Decusian folklore. Despite all of this, the Vade Mecum Atrocitas remains an illegal piece of literature within the Venerated Republic of Decus, whether it be due to superstition, long-standing ecclesial traditions, or simple tried-and-true bureaucracy. Yet in spite of it being considered a work of fiction by the majority of educated, rational members of society, the Atrocitas is considered canon to many elements of our culture. Certain sects and orders of Orthodox Decusian traditionalists look upon the Atrocitas as evidence to the existence of the “Ill” throughout ancient and modern history, and often use the Atrocitas and works akin to it as evidence to support their zealous ideologies. In other parts of the Republic, such as the under-developed Western Territories, the Atrocitas is almost a staple of life, often heralded to be as vital to one’s survival as water or the blade.

Citizenship

The Venerated Republic of Decus, or “The Republic” for short, is a theocratic-oligarchical nation of hundreds upon hundreds of millions of people. Due to the overwhelming population that is purported by the Republic, living conditions and an average life experience within the nation is dependent on a myriad of qualifiers and conditions. With such a booming population, this broad spectrum can range from luxurious lifestyles to grueling livelihoods of manual labor and exploitation. There are, however, concrete quantifiers that can, with a confident amount of accuracy, determine the general living conditions a given member of the Republic may find themselves within. These include, but are not limited to: upward mobility into the Citizen caste (verses remaining within the Civilian caste), relationship with and involvement within the Ecclesial Authority, and verifiable heritable linkage to the Prelacy.

One of the most basic and common quantifiers of living condition within the Republic is that of the idea of Citizenship. Within the Republic, a bright-line distinction exists between two castes of society; that of the Citizen (High Decusian: civis), and that of the Civilian (High Decusian: paganus). In terms of social hierarchy, a Citizen of the Republic is more valued and revered. Consequently, a Citizen also enjoys a substantially higher standard of living than that of their Civilian equivalents. The Decusian concept of Citizenry and Civilian-hood is an ancient one, of which evidently existed prior to that of the Reclamation, and is based upon the concept of Divine Officium; known otherwise as “Divine Service”. The concept of Divine Service is quite simple – within the theocratic-oligarchical nation of the Republic, service to the state is not only considered a societal honor and a prestigious station, but is further understood to be an act of reverence to the divine itself. Thusly, those whom serve the Republic in a formal capacity are by societal norms considered to be the more devout and zealous members of the nation.

It should come as no surprise that within the theocratic-oligarchical society of the Republic, those whom can display reverence to the One True Faith with more zeal and devotion than their peers – or benefit from having heritable linkage to the Prelacy or to the Ecclesial Authority – benefit from a higher standard of life. The state’s reward for this comes in the form of Citizenship. Citizens within the Republic are afforded rights and privileges (known collectively as the Beneficium) Civilians are not. While there are literally hundreds of points and concepts that collectively make up the Beneficium, the most revered of these privileges are represented by three rights of considerable importance: The Right of Dissent, the Right of Dominion, and the Right of Lethality.

The Right of Dissent, the most prominent of Beneficium privileges, allows Citizens to express their disagreement with the state – of which is more formally referred to as the Ecclesial Authority – as well as their fellow Citizen and Civilian without fear of criminal or civil charge from the Adjudicatory. In regards to dissent against the state, this “expression” is relegated solely to the privilege of being allowed to cast their vote in for representatives – known as Vicars – within the Republic Senate, the deliberative (not legislative, of which is limited solely to the Authority) governing body of the Republic. Vicars are elected to life-time positions within the Senate based upon the size of the Municipality or other incorporated territory they represent, and are only elected by Citizens through the Right of Dissent. Actual, public dissent against the state through communications or actions is considered an illegal act, ranging from being classified as malum prohibitum (wrong by statute) to mala in se (evil in of itself), depending on the infraction. It should come as no surprise that within the theocratic-oligarchical nation of the Republic, those whom can display reverence to the One True Faith with more zeal and devotion than their peers – or benefit from having heritable linkage to the Prelacy or to the Ecclesial Authority – benefit from a higher standard of life.

The secondary benefit of the Right of Dissent is the privilege of having legal standing to express disagreement against one’s fellow citizenry, or civilians, through the act of providing legally-binding testimony to the Republic Adjudicatory for further legal action. This exercising of one’s Right to Dissent is normally conducted in the pursuit of seeking restitution for real or perceived wrongs, the breaching of contracts and other binding agreements, and other legal issues classified as malum prohibitum. As one may deduce, the right to utilize the Adjudicatory for any legal assistance is limited solely to that of the Citizen caste of the Republic; while Civilians are protected under all Clerical and Republic law as equally as their Citizen counterparts, they are unable to initiate any sort of legal proceedings against their fellow Decusians in absences of Citizen status. This inequality often times leads to the disenfranchisement of Civilian caste as it relates to faith within the Adjudicatory, though public displays of it – such as protests or riots – are met with swift and decisive force of the most prejudicial nature.

The second of the core Beneficium ideals, the Right of Dominion, is one of the least convoluted concepts of Citizen rights, and consists of two key points. First, Citizens are bestowed the right of land and building ownership within the Republic and a majority of its territories and colonies. This is not to say that every Citizen owns land – or even buildings – within the Republic, as most land and building ownership is entrusted to the Ecclesial Authority or that of the Prelacy caste. Regardless, the act of owning land within the Republic is considered a privilege and not a sovereign birthright, and one that is entrusted only to those of the Citizen caste. The Right of Dominion often leads to the largest difference in wealth equality between the two castes of the Republic, with Citizens having the potential of being able to produce more wealth from owned land and real estate than those of the Civilian caste. This becomes a quantifying factor of living conditions, as Citizens can more easily and comfortably pay their Municipal or territorial taxes, their Clerical Tithes, and any other monetary obligations required to the Ecclesial Authority than their civilian counterparts. Civilians (and, in rare circumstances, Citizens) whom are unable to keep up with their Republic taxes and Clerical Tithes have their debts added to their Fidebes – more commonly known as “Faith Debt”. Escalating amounts of Fidebes is considered a crisis of faith within the Decusian culture, and leads to the forced conscription and/or employment into one of the many factions of the Republic as to “rekindle” one’s faith in the One True God. The Right of Dominion often leads to the largest difference in wealth equality between the two castes of the Republic, with Citizens having the potential of being able to produce more wealth from owned land and real estate than those of the Civilian caste. This becomes a quantifying factor of living conditions, as Civilians can more easily and comfortably pay their Municipal or territorial taxes, their Clerical Tithes, and any other monetary obligations required to the Ecclesial Authority than their civilian counterparts.

The secondary aspect of the Right of Dominion is that of the privilege of being able to procreate and sire offspring within the Republic. Citizens are given this privilege without restriction, and may produce as many children as they deem necessary. Civilians, on the other hand, are legally prohibited from procreation within the Republic. Violations of this tenant of Decusian life are based upon the number of prior infractions a family or, in the case of illegitimacy, a mother may hold. For the first few infractions, the child’s estimated Fidebes would simply be added to the family or mother’s debt to the Authority. For repeated, flagrant violations of the law, more invasive penalties are applied – up to and included conscription of the family and child into Republic service, forced sterilization of one or both parental units, and extensive additions to the hereditary Fidebes of a family name or tree, of which requires compensation in the form of tithe or servitude to the Republic by generations of a lineage as opposed to a singular individual.

The third and last Beneficium privilege of any serious consequence is that of the Right of Lethality. The Right of Lethality is an important privilege bestowed upon Decusian Citizens as it governs not only the ability for one to possess and carry a weapon within the Republic, but to furthermore use it in the application of both Letalis Vis (extreme force used against another living being that results in death), and the use of Aeternus Vis (“everlasting” force used against the undying that results in dis-animation). Citizenry of the Republic may carry and possess weapons within the Republic, whereas civilians cannot. Furthermore, Citizens qualify for an affirmative defense – that is, a defense in which indemnifies the defendant regardless of additional facts or knowledge – when applying lethal force (Letalis Vis) against that of a civilian when used in self-defense. Citizens are further granted the right to dispatch the Sempiternal (known by the lay as the “Undying” or “Undead) wherever and whenever they are happened upon. Inversely, Civilians of the Republic are not allowed to carry or even possess martial weapons and are considered in gross violation of Decusian law in any situation that their actions or deeds result in the death of another Decusian, even when performed in the mortal defense of themselves or another. Lastly, the act of applying Letalis Vis upon those of the undead persuasion is illegal as well, for the given Sempiternal may have, in its’ prior state of being, been of a higher caste or station, and thus must be tended to by those of more devout natures. Due to these rather draconian statutes and laws concerning weapon possession and even self-defense, Civilians often rely on the Ecclesial Authority to provide day to day protection – be it in the form the Legion, the Templar, or a local Municipal safety force. This further leads to a lack of proper martial training for Civilians versus that of the Citizenship; civilians are often untrained in the use of the blade, whereas citizens may be quite proficient in it.

The Prelacy

The concept of the Decusian Prelacy (or simply Prelacy for short) is a societal Decusian concept that is prevalent in all facets of life within the Republic. In the simplest terms, the Prelacy can be considered a caste in of itself, towering high above both the Civilian and even the Citizen when viewed comparatively upon the hierarchical ladder of Decusian society. Unlike the ascension from Civilian to Citizen, however, membership within the Prelacy is not earned through rewards from the Decusian meritocracy or through service to the Republic. Instead, the concept of the Prelacy and earning a position within it is exclusively based upon genealogy, creating what is most readily identifiable as a hereditary aristocracy within the Republic and Decusian culture.

The term Prelacy refers to that of the original Prelates of the Decusian Church, of whom are some of the most famous and influential founding members of the Decusian Faith proper. Not to be dismissed simply as some of the founding members of the Decusian Templar, the Prelates are considered historically and culturally significant as they were described to be among the most revered and closest disciples to that of Archangel (or, in some texts, Arch Prelate) Decus during his life amongst men in the Mortal Realm. These hallowed men and women were considered to be the closest humans to that of the One True God, and unsurprisingly are credited to significant and epic deeds within ancient history, ranging from leading the first armies of Men, to liberating large swaths of humans from the yolk of slavery, to more fantastical and monolithic feats. In modern-day, post-Reclamation Decusian faith, the Prelates continue to maintain a strong presence as well, as many of the more established and famous Prelates of Decusian history are also commonly associated with representing a moral ideal or custom important to the Decusian way of life. This representation comes in the form of the Prelates acting as a champion or patron of a moral ideal or lesson, such as being representative of a specific virtue of the Sacred Eight, or championing ideal or custom deemed important to the Decusian culture, such as the responsibility of paying one’s Tithes to the Venerated Church.

The true number of Prelates that are formally recognized by the Ecclesial Authority are anyone’s guess, as records of these ancient times are closely guarded secrets to the state and Authority. There are however thousands of Prelate ancestorial lines that have been publicly recognized by the Authority and Clergy to date, of which become matters of formal record once proper investigations into the genealogy have concluded. These investigations can sometimes take generations to complete, as the bureaucracy in declaring a Prelate is nigh never-ending. However, when a new Prelate has been “discovered” within the annals of history and crowned accordingly, it is truly an occasion – more often than not, great celebrations are held by the territories and Municipalities that claim a new Prelate, with weeks’ long festivals and feasts held in their honor. This celebratory period is sometimes the only deviation from otherwise dismal living conditions some Decusians may experience in their entire lives, and thusly, it is truly a wonder to behold.

Along with this rather rare and unorthodox departure from the grim reality of day-to-day life that Prelate Celebrations offers comes a rather curious phenomenon; the perceived honor a Decusian may experience in being a member of a territory or province that a Prelate is credited to have hailed from in pre-Reclamation times. For many of the poor and destitute within the Republic, this fleeting notion can truly impress upon them a sense of kinship with an otherwise inaccessible Faith and Republic, with the less fortunate often adopting whatever mantle a newly ordained Prelate is said to be the patron of, be it a virtue or simply an idea or concept, as a cornerstone to their own personal faith. So influential is the idea and concept of beholding Prelates as patrons of these given ideals that effigies and inscribed monikers of the Prelates are rife and commonplace within the Republic, especially with those of lesser stations and castes, as it is often the only non-confrontational and non-domineering aspect of Decusian Faith these destitute may ever experience in their miserable lives. Violence and strife do however find its’ way even into such innocuous and hope-inspiring rituals such as these. At times, the impoverished amongst the Republic sometimes so fervently championing their patron Prelates and the ideas they represent that they will use force against those who do not share such zealotry. In large Municipalities and Church-Cities, where numerous Prelates may share lineage from, street-gangs have even been known to form with the sole intent to bring martial force against rival neighborhoods that may look upon a different Prelate as their source of faith inspiration.

In-day, post-Reclamation Decusian faith, the Prelates continue to maintain a strong presence as well, as many of the more established and famous Prelates of Decusian history are also commonly associated with representing a moral ideal or custom important to the Decusian way of life. This representation comes in the form of the Prelates acting as a champion or patron of a moral ideal or lesson, such as being representative of a specific virtue of the Sacred Eight, or championing ideal or custom deemed important to the Decusian culture, such as the responsibility of paying one’s Tithes to the Venerated Church.

The process of ascending the social-economic ladder of Decusian society and becoming part of the Prelacy is no easy task. Only those families who can prove, through exhaustive research and evidence provided to the Ecclesial Authority, that they possess common ancestry to a Prelate can claim the mantle of belonging to the Prelacy. This process is, of course, exorbitantly expensive, and therefore is cost-prohibitive to lesser Citizens and Civilians. It is thought that for every bloodline that is officially recognized as being decedents to the ancient Prelates of the Decusian Faith, ten more may realistically exist but will never garner recognition as they are kept oppressed by inordinate amounts of Fidebes and other obligations to the Authority that prohibit them from ever transcending above the Civilian caste. Despite the exorbitant costs associated with proving relation to a Prelate, Citizen bloodlines and families are continually attempting to prove kinship to them, as being awarded formal recognition of such by the Authority is a guaranteed ticket to upwards class mobility within the Republic, and is a goal that nearly any sensible Citizen maintains.

Bloodlines whom are in fact able to prove relation through genealogy to a Prelate are officially recognized as kin of the Prelacy by the Ecclesial Authority, and with such designation comes power, prestige, and above all else, wealth. These families, of whom span generations, are essentially the aristocracy of the Decusian culture and are entrusted with civil responsibilities and powers by the Authority that easily generate influence and wealth, especially when accounting for generational periods of time. A member of a Prelacy House, for example, would be given priority over that of any other Citizen in considerations of free market or trade, allowing those of the Prelacy to establish generation-enduring farms, plantations, fisheries and trading companies. Furthermore, upper echelons of the various Decusian factions – up to and including the Ecclesial Authority itself – are nearly exclusively populated by those of Prelacy genealogies, and thus often exhibit preferential treatment to other Prelacy Houses when conducting the various aspects of Republic bureaucracy.

Only those families who can prove, through exhaustive research and evidence provided to the Ecclesial Authority, that they possess common ancestry to a Prelate can claim the mantle of belonging to the Prelacy

]Hereditary bloodlines and Prelacy families are often referred to as “Parishes”. A single Parish can span generations and numerous family lines, as consanguinity through marital union is recognized as viable relation as well. A Parish, depending on their size, power and general influence can often carry enough notoriety to be a household name among thousands of Decusians in a given geographical region of the Republic. Serious means of industry, manufacturing and trade that are not owned and operated directly by the Republic Foundry are most always owned and managed by a Parish. Parishes often have their own colors, standards and, depending on their size and wealth, private men at arms – of whom, by official standards, can only be used in the defense of Parish holdings and properties. Parishes have further been known to often adopt and incorporate their ancestral Prelate’s patron virtue or ideal into the fabric of their own existence, often serving to champion such ideas through acts of philanthropy within their communities.

Of rather special note is that those of the Prelacy that hold positions within the factions of the Republic do so of their own free will, as being part of a Prelacy bloodlines automatically bestows upon future heirs and heiresses the mantle and station of Republic Citizenship without the need of Divine Officium, or Divine Service. Those of Prelacy Parishes that do enlist within the Church Templar, Clergy, Legion, Foundry or any other faction of the Republic often do so with the intent and aspiration to become quickly promoted to administrative positions of power due to their genealogy – with an end-goal of retiring early and safely with a bestowed title of honor as to even further their influence within society as a whole. It is to be deduced that those of the Republic that have been bestowed the official titles of honor ( Magnus Dux/Magna Ducissa, Archidux/Archiducissa, Dux/Ducissa or Prorex/Proregina) upon retirement by their patron Factions are often members of the Prelacy.