[Start here]

Go down

[Start here]

Post by Vox on Wed Feb 24, 2016 11:51 pm

Before you make your character, here's a few things you'll need to learn before you play!
To help you flush out your character, you'll have quite a few choices to make.. now these aren't petty little decisions, these are ones that will effect who you're playing, and give an idea of who you're playing.

I'll also be posting a great deal of the lore here, if you want to know more about a certain topic feel free to message me on steam, and I'll send you what you were inquiring on. Smile
this is a very rich, and deep world for roleplaying, so there's bound to be MANY questions.

The Map.

The Languages.
(Borcan (German with French and English Influences, with simplified Grammar) [Common second language]
(Frankan (Well-preserved French)
(African (High Arabian, sprinkled with French words)
(Pollnish (Mixture between Polish and Russian)
(Balkhan (Amalgam of Russian and Balkhanic dialects)
(Purgish (Italian, heavily watered down with Borcan)
(Hybrispanian (Spanish with some little Balkhan influence)
(Old languages hailing from before the Eshaton

The year of 2073 brings destruction for humanity, but a new beginning for Mother Earth. Asteroids hit the northern hemisphere at several locations and plant the seed for a quick proliferation of Primer matter. The southern hemisphere stays mainly unmolested, though some chunks cut through the atmosphere and thunder across the land at only a few kilometers height. Chipped fragments rain down to earth accompanied by sulfuric compounds; here, too, the Primer will spread. A giant asteroid – later to be named Colossus – hits the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean but can release its seed only centuries later.

Almost all of the Primer matter in Europe and Asia has turned to Sepsis. Things look different in America, though: the Yellowstone Volcano’s eruption threatens to bury the land under several meters of ash; the Primer finds no suitable host and cannot spread. Sporadically it afflicts individual explorers. Those unfortunate ones rarely survive the rape of their genes. The first Primer-based modifications in Central Africa become visible. Unlike in Eurasia, the alien matter seems to prefer plants here. It spreads via pollen, growing areas of moss and sometimes amoeba.

The Sepsis’ advance is unstoppable, its attraction to insects enormous. Former Poland with its Pandora Crater close to the devastated city of Warsaw turns into a breeding area for spiders and venomous centipedes. Within Pandora itself, a lake emerges; primordial life bustles along its shores and is carried into major parts of Europe and Asia by rivers that originate from the lake. The spores of the Souffrance are highly valued as hallucinogens throughout the land. Soon afterwards, the Sepsis’ uncontrolled proliferation starts. The African Primer plants spread rapidly along the Equator, separating the continent’s northern and southern half.

First documented cases of paranormal phenomenons that can clearly be attributed to humans. Only in 2305 do the Spitalians recognize the connection with the Sepsis when dissecting a Psychonaut’s brain. The first Psychonauts emerge, mainly in the northern part of former Poland. In the beginning, they merely have advanced self-regulating forces. Only later do the Aberrants grow bone spurs; in their presence, fertile soil rots to stinking substrate. The altered humans are rejected by their families, but it will take years until the Spitalians start hunting them mercilessly

A massive seaquake unearths parts of Colossus. Evolution’s engine gets into gear. Subsequently, a multitude of primordial arthropods hatches, adapts the Primer matter, and starts its victory march across the oceans. At the French coasts, humans consider the strange animals washed ashore crabs.

Souffrance in Franka’s Central Massif is known not only for the drug called Burn sprawling on its slopes, but also for its weird interior panorama: giant vents rise skywards, hubs on ant trails heavy with pheromones amidst a bleak forest.

The year of destiny for the metropolis of Paris. The country becomes marshy; the city threatens to drown. In feverish haste, jetties are built and dams are erected. But the true horror lurks elsewhere: swarms of insects rise and darken the sun, spreading Sepsis into every nook and cranny. Mother spore fields bloom in the city center. Some brave souls attack them with incendiary agents and fungicides but are forced to retreat when subterranean waves emitted by the fields destroy the dams. People flee Paris and leave their city to the insects. Hundreds of square kilometers become marshy.

Three Psychonautic Raptures have established themselves in Europe: Biokinesis in Pollen and parts of East Borca; Pregnocticism in Hybrispania; and Dushan at the Balkhan. All Raptures are tied to large Mother Spore Fields, the Earth Chakras that spread their traits to the surrounding fields in the decades to come.

The African climate has changed radically. Permanent rainfall turns the Congo basin into one of the world’s largest lakes. Fishermen can reach the heart of the continent on it without being threatened by the aggressive spores and plants. Still, there is no open south passage.

The Souffrance vents start emitting methane, seemingly due to a mutation of the insect population. Ants and other species of insects have formed a complex biocenosis; millions of years of uncontrolled evolution seem forgotten. When the Spitalians realize the changes in the atmosphere and prove the Sepsis’ immediate involvement, their campaign against the Primer and its ilk starts.

In Purgare’s western slag deserts, the Neolibyans encounter the first Psychokinetics, children who destroyed their village in anger. From the beginning, the fourth Rapture is considered the most dangerous and incalculable one.

In France, highly specialized Psychonauts arise from the Mother Spore Fields for the first time, adapted to the huge swarms of insects: the Pheromancers. The population terrorized by the insect plague thanks the Sepsis’ seemingly collective wisdom by accepting the Psychonauts as parts of their community and currying favor with them. The Spitalians are banned from the country, and their warnings go unheard. An oleaginous peace builds bridges across ancient chasms of hatred.

The Spitalians literally tear through the Mother Spore Field at Menden, making enormous sacrifices to reach their goal. The result is a raped country robbed of its vital energy. But there is no rest: the festering, contaminated by megatons of entropic nanites, slowly spreads and seems unstoppable.

The African Primer conquers the water. More and more infectious pollen is being carried widespread to shores farther and farther into the continent. Lake Victoria is covered by a proliferating layer of algae that continuously loses parts that the Nile sweeps away.

The shores of the Nile teem with life – strange, bizarre life. The Anubians do not resist, but rather take an interest in the alien vegetation, monitoring it and experimenting with it. They call the plants the Key, though few truly know what this means.

Although the Spitalians do not use entropic nanites again, their doctors can repress the Sepsis in Borca. Some developments seem promising: with the Mollusks, spore-infected muscle tissue in bottles full of nutrient solution, they can unmask Psychonauts; modified fungicides make young spore fields wither; Echein spiders hunt and kill spore-carrying insects without becoming infected.

The Spitalians’ fungicides stop working – the spores adapt. The war against the Sepsis keeps getting harder, until the Spital finds new hope in the Discordance Theory. There seem to be communication problems between Europe’s Mother Spore Fields and their Psychovore equivalent in Africa. So far, the doctors assumed that the Chakras’ communication served to coordinate and to exchange viable DNA sequences. Now a dissonance blankets the communication; the fields seem to jam each other or to communicate false information. The results are hundreds of dead Dushani. Large Mother Spore Fields wither and spew forth unviable mutants.

When the Discordance’s shockwaves ripple through the Chakra collective, this influences the Biokinetics, too. The biokinetic Earth Chakra continuously pumps them full of grotesquely altered information, gives them useless psychonautic abilities, and influences their genes in a way that might have made sense on the Primer’s home world. The Biokinetics writhe in burning agony. Their bodies transform into caricatures of their former self. Most of them die; the rest goes mad. When the Discordance dies down, the Chakra realizes that it cannot save its Psychonauts and sheds them, bans the foul breed from the collective. Then it starts breeding new Biokinetics.

The Discordance phenomenon has stabilized. Some Mother Spore Fields, mostly in the Mediterranean area, are still caught up in the discordant resonance. People avoid them and call the area, which is several hundred kilometers wide, the “Discordance Zone”

The Spitalians invade Danzig – and meet with zero resistance. Many of the inhabitants pack their belongings into carts and flee south. The doctors do not come as raiders and killers, but the Pollners are a distrustful people, and it always seemed like a good survival strategy not to trust the Spitalians. In the years to come, the medical organization turns the city into their operational base in Pollen and starts exploring the East.

The spore belt closes. Where an east passage seemed possible before, the Sepsis has now conquered the land. The Spitalians build a number of Destructive Fortresses, all linked by rail. The fortresses blow fungicides and pesticides into the land at regular intervals, intended to eradicate the seed brought in by insects and arachnoids. They plan to breach the belt. The expansion goes well.

Africa’s psychovorous plant belt expands. Information is passed on to adapted life forms via thorns and pollen – viral genetic sequences that cause cancer in regular humans. The Africans call it “the Raze”. Getting close to the belt means risking your life. Surviving members of expeditions come back from the Zone decades later, are several years younger than when they left, and remember nothing at all. They speak in tongues and cannot even communicate via body language. More and more Africans fall under the Psychovores’ influence. But instead of initiating a Babylonian confusion, the most recent change leads to tribes with different languages suddenly being able to communicate, finding common grounds, and burying old animosities. This change is attributed to the Anubians. They have tamed the country’s wild spirit.

The Destructive Fortresses are not linked anymore. Earth walls emanating from spore fields have interrupted the rails in several places. Spitalians based in Brno, Pollen, do their best to send the pesticide vats back east. A large expedition does not return and is considered lost. The breach closes; the Sepsis gains ground.

The year that goes down in Spitalian history as Vasco’s Fall. Dr. Hernez Vasco was considered lost after an expedition to the Pandora Crater. One year later he is seen not far from Danzig and brought to the Spital. He has changed; even former colleagues barely recognize him. He claims to have found and performed extensive research on several grams of the legendary Primer matter. His testimony is regarded skeptically from day one. What happened to his expedition? Where are the other doctors? Dr. Vasco doesn’t know the answer or does not want to divulge it. Instead, he presents his results and the theories stemming from them – and shocks the Consultants. His explanations for identical genetic info found in all species known to man – the similarities between primordial trilobites and the modern Homo Sapiens are of special interest here – paint a different picture than the one propagated by the assimilation theory. So far, the doctors assumed that the Primer matter copied existing DNA to implant into stricken tissue. But in the Spital’s assembly hall in January 2562, Vasco claims in front of selected doctors that the Primer itself is pure DNA – a virus that made life on earth possibly billions of years ago. He calls the fight against the spore fields a wrong track and asks his colleagues to encounter the Sepsis as a new chance for humankind with an open mind and full of curiosity. His suggestion meets with little appreciation. Two days later, he flees into exile with 36 fellow travelers. The flight is too easy. For a long time, there is talk about aid in the escape, but there is never any proof.

Preservists find Vasco in a hidden lab near Laibach. He manages to do the impossible: he vanquishes his attackers and flees. The Preservists later say Vasco had been amazingly strong and agile. In the years after, he is supposedly seen repeatedly, sometimes at different places at once, all considered to be false claims.

A hint leads a group of Famulancers to a research bunker in Briton. There they find a body they identify as Dr. Hernez Vasco’s. The body is brought to the Spital and woven in by Echein spiders for later examination. For a year, Dr. Vasco is presumed dead, until several sightings in the Balkhan prove the opposite. The body is given to Consultant Petrova and her research team. The hunt for Vasco continues.

Preservists follow hints and watch the permafrost ground in the ruins of Lodz, Pollen, thawing in circular areas in several spots. The so-far unknown phenomenon is ascribed to the Biokinetics – an incorrect assumption, as later years will prove.

The excavations in Lodz are in full swing. The Preservists find a crackling white bulk of nerves or muscles that emanates heat but dies within minutes after being excavated. In the Danzig Spital, samples are examined.

The Hot Spots near Lodz are no unique finding. When accosted, Pollen’s nomads freely confess that they have been planting bulbs in these areas for decades. The Spitalians still find no heightened spore infestation in these Clanners. At the same time, Spitalians discover the first Fractal Forest in the middle of the tundra near Breslau. Clanners protect the phenomenon and only let the doctors enter it once.

Danzig’s Preservists receive a hint concerning a decaying spore field near Lodz. They arrive just in time to witness a spore field’s complete metamorphosis into a Fractal Forest. From afar, they watch attacks by Biokinetics and sea-spiders and document the forest’s defenses. From now on, there can be no doubt anymore that Hot Spots and Fractal Forests have nothing to do with the Earth Chakra.

By this time, hundreds of Hot Spots and Fractal Forests have been recorded. When mapped, it becomes clear they grow along fractal coils, coils also recognizable in the Fractal Forests’ plants. Should there be a center, it might be somewhere south of Danzig, but for an exact location, more local data is necessary. In the meantime, it is generally assumed that Hot Spots turn spore fields into Fractal Forests. If the Hot Spot does not meet a field, then no Fractal Forest arises.

The Anabaptist emissary Wetzel realizes the Fractal Forests’ value for his Cult: their fruit generates remarkable emanations – or madness. The Baptists decide that the rewards are greater than the risks and take the forests under their protection. Meanwhile, the Spitalians argue over whether to fight or welcome the Fractal Forests. For Apocalyptics, that question is clear: many profitable spore fields have rotted, and the Burn harvest has taken a tumble. When they find a Fractal Forest, they burn it down.

Invited by the Tripolitan Bank of Commerce, Spitalians land in Qabis, Africa, and start studying the Psychovores. The Anubians watch this with stoicism. What could these dozens of Spitalians do?

[2595 Present]
Many questions remain. The Discordance Phenomenon’s barely understood. The Fractal Forests are a new factor in the battle against the Primer. Studies in the African vegetation belt have just begun. Who or what are the people there really facing?

The Earth Chakras
The five huge craters are at the center of this development. All evolutionary surges emitted from them
and were carried outwards via the Mother Spore Fields as if they were linked by a mythical ether and
the fields were nothing but relay stations within a giant communication network. New hunting or
flight behaviors spread within days, as well as the memory of an accursed enemy’s face. Everything
emits from the center. Those who want to fight the Psychonauts will have to climb the crater walls in
the end.

Pollen: Pandora.
The largest impact crater is a gateway into an abyss of genetic proliferation. Creatures fearing neither cold nor steel rise from it. They grow bone plates and additional organs like humans grow hair. Primordial monsters swim in the crater lake, fighting each other, sinking to the ground dead or mating and mutating. Ammonites several feet in diameter have been seen. Some of these creatures get washed to shore through countless drains and streams. Many die in the hostile atmosphere, but others burrow into the ground and flourish. The biokinetic Earth Chakra is fertile; the west wind carries with it mile-long spore trails and drops them in the east. This region is beyond redemption: The spore fields have spread to the horizon – and no one ever made it further.
Pollen: Biokenisis.
For Psychonauts with the Biokinesis Rapture, their body is a tool they can shape to their liking. From their arms, bone spurs grow, their skulls are malformed and without any weak spot. They guard their spore fields, merge with them, give or take energy. Wounds heal rapidly, damaged organs are replaced by improved copies within days. They carry their poisonous plague in skin folds: spiders, scorpions, centipedes – all the venomous wasteland scum.

Franka: Souffrance.
In Franka’s Massif Central, there’s a gaping wound. Pheromones sweet as nectar spill from dirt vents and flow down the crater slopes, wash around people and insects and make them part of Franka’s Earth Chakra collective. Here, Homo Degenesis and Homo Sapiens live close together. Unlike anywhere else, man is on the same level as a swarms of insects. In Souffrance, he has devolved to a drone.
Franka: Pheromancy.
Like insect queens, they are surrounded by ants, wasps and termites. Their skin is stretched tight across the pheromone glands. At the neck, sores bulge, big as nuts or children’s fists, oozing puss in which insects feed and fester. The pheromancers weave a net made of pheromone roads, capturing human and animal alike in it and forcing them into the false peace of the collective.

Balkhan: Usud.
The Dushani Earth Chakra vibrates and shudders, interconnecting with the land’s and its people’s resonant frequencies, oscillating and singing. Nearing Usud, your teeth ache, your thoughts race until they are swept away, leaving behind a vacuum that rudimentary emotions flow into like ichors. You become a lost soul, soon filled with a new will and thoughts by the Dushani’s songs. Usud changes your destiny and creeps into the fate of a whole country.
Balkhan: Dushan.
The Dushani’s song reverberates through the rugged ridges of the Balkhan mountains, resonating down into the land’s deepest woods and caverns. Waves stir on still bodies of water; the earth vibrates and ripples. Their harmonies creep into the thoughts of humans and manipulate them until there is no such thing as free will. The Dushani glide through mountain creeks and surround themselves with kraken, jellyfish and crawfish.

Hybrispania: Mirar.
Surrounded by and hidden within a time lapse lies Mirar, the Pregnoctics’ Earth Chakra. Thousands of eyes roam the land. Sometimes from up high, circling and waiting. Sometimes they spy from cold granite or the depths of the mountain lakes, a grainy view of what was and what is going to be. Innumerable souls entwined within one singular mind and spirit possessing endless wisdom. Those who dare to explore future and past will realize the secret of the beginning and the end amidst a sea of shells in Mirar
Hybrispania: Pregnoctics.
The Pregnoctics exist in the past and future simultaneously. They are one soul in a thousand bodies. The Hybrispaniards fear them, but they also revere them and turn to them for counsel. Without the omniscient pregnoctics, Hybrispania would long since have been overrun by African invaders. The Psychonauts live next to mountain lakes and on the Atlantic coast. Here, they are close to their plagues: shells, starfish, urchins, ammonites and trilobites.

Purgare: Nox.
Force fields demolish space like a broken mirror and capture the fragments within the finest of gravitational mesh. The fields above Nox are sealed, capturing the light and never letting go. Eternal night grows in crystalline thorns from the Psychokinetics’ Earth Chakra, infecting the area, creeping onwards. Only one man – Nuntius the Baptist – has entered the darkness and lived to tell. He was surrounded by force fields, fractured light gleaming along their surfaces in all the colors of the rainbow. Pillars of pure light penetrated each other in an impossible geometry. Pitch black creatures hung in gravitational rifts, their bloated bodies mirrored thousandfold and compressed or bent. Perfect beauty amid darkness, blacker than death, holier than any god. After, Nuntius went blind and mad, demanding the Rift around Nox be broken to free the divine Pneuma.
Purgare: Psychokinesis.
Psychokinetics are parasites. They cling to villages, feeding on the inhabitants through plagues of leeches, mosquitoes, ticks, fleas and tapeworms. As the Psychokinetics feed, energies build up in their solar plexus, making their chests glow with heat. When they finally release this anima, it consumes his environment and burns him from the inside out. The light bends around this type of Abberant and gets entangled in force fields. Stones rise into the air, accelerate in ever tightening circles and finally race towards the enemy in a glittering cloud.

While asteroid fragments punched crater after crater into the northern hemisphere’s soil, a stray one plowed through the sky above Africa. Above the Sudan, the asteroid entered the atmosphere with a blinding flash before finally plunging into the Atlantic at blinding speed. But Africa wasn’t spared. The projectile cooked the surrounding air to more than 54,032° Fahrenheit, painting a long, flaming tail across the sky. With several thousand atmospheric tons of pressure, a tsunami struck the African continent. At an unstoppable 4 miles per second, the wave ate through the earth and devoured humans, animals, vegetation, even entire cities and mountains along with it. It gouged a scar more than 1,245 miles long and easily 185 miles wide: the Dhoruba. For hours, it rained debris; pulverized trees, rock and dirt all across the devastated land. Yet seeds, moss spores, and plant residue also fell back to earth. Years later, the first trees reappeared. Fern woods nestled between rocks the size of houses. Vegetation had reclaimed the Dhoruba, but these trees, bushes, and ferns were all infected. The Dhoruba was littered with molten asteroid fragments. Black steam rose from them and sank into the humus and soil. Vegetation changed. Leaves grew in strictly geometrical hexagons or octagons. Every branch was thorny. The trees were heavily laden with glassy fruit that splintered when they finally fell. The strange plants conquered the Dhoruba’s ridges and grew into the land. Today, the Africans know them as Psychovores – the greatest challenge the African people face.

Sepsis and Psychovores are both variants of the Primer, but wherever they meet, they contradict. Plants rot yet Sepsis ends. Torn from their Earth Chakra, subterranean feeding buds grow within these spore fields. Those who step on the plants’ neural points fall into feeding sacs, get entangled in thorny gills and drown in the influx of digestive fluids. Within days, the dissolved victim is pumped into a womb sac. There, bizarre figures grow in gelatinous bubbles. Finally, membrane riddled creatures rise up into the air, but rot within hours and fall to the ground, a stinking mass. Evolution breathes old and rejected things back to life. It is out of control. This is the Discordance, a belt of raging, contradictory evolution thousands of miles wide between the Sepsis invading from the north and the Psychovores in the south.

Tech Classifications.
Level 1: Primitive, This community is primarily nomadic hunters and gatherers. They have no knowledge of the purification of iron ore. Their weapons are whatever they can salvage from the ruins. Preferred materials are bone and stone
Level 2: Medieval, It is possible for this community to melt junk metal and forge simple weapons or constructions. A great achievement is the iron nail.. with it, stable scaff olding and ships can be built. THey practice agriculture and settle wherever the soil is fertile. Three-field economics and crop rotation raises the yield and supports larger communities. Fortified cities can be built.
Level 3: Advanced, Forges produce quality steel that can be used to fashion simple rifle barrels, and gunpowder can also be manufactured. Cannons guard the entrances to their cities and armor does not rust. Tool shops combine the skills of many specialists to develop a product. Countless inventions and technical developments can be produced. The veil of superstition lifts itself and reveals a clear, deterministic world.
Level 4: Industrial, The industrial production cycle has taken over traditional manufacturing shops. Plastics and alloys allow for phenomenal technical developments. Electronic devices invade many different aspects of life.
Level 5: Futuristic, These civilizations are capable of producing mega-structures, aircraft, and advanced weaponry, and armor, they can harness almost all forms of energy available to them.
Level 6: Transhuman, Computers are an integral part of everyday life, acting constantly in the background. The Stream connects humans to a global superbrain.

Descended Culture.
From the ashes of ancient civilizations, seven new Cultures emerged. From Europe’s cold north to the Mediterranean and down to Africa, they rose. The Europeans are crows, circling above their nations’ decaying corpses, picking up the useless, scattered pieces. A few artifacts here, a habit there and a juicy strip of prejudices as dessert. Scavengers. If you ask them, they consider crows clever, intelligent birds. The Africans left all that behind. The past lives on in their ancestors and their hearts, not in ruins, laws or thinking that’s irrelevant now. They see the Lion as an embodiment of their people. Noble and strong he stalks the savannah, fighting to stay on top of the food chain. What he lacks in agility, he makes up for with his savage ferocity; his roar makes the world tremble. The Lion is ready to jump across the big water and has raised much dust in the Crow’s domain. This battle needs to be fought. Too often, he has had to feel the Crow’s beak

Borca, Waves of red dust broke against monolithic cliffs, piling up and becoming lost in stone labyrinths: buildings, eroded by the ravages of time, now breathe cold dust and dirt. Brush covers ancient floors as pale, wet roots find their way down and through. Humans wander through a wilderness of steel and concrete, past overgrown craters, through fields of wild wheat, following dried-up riverbeds from settlement to settlement. In centuries of sediment, they dig for the ancient people’s wonders, hoping to find something revelatory. Their future, however, does not lie in history’s quarry, but in their inexhaustible energy. Stone after stone, they wrest metropolises like Justitian, Cathedral City and Osman from the ruins and erect a new world. Conquering the land and fortifying their rule. Cults flourish as they devote themselves to civilization and order, carrying both into the wasteland with fire and steel. But not everyone bends the knee. Some want to keep living as free folk in their ancestors’ ruins. They get no choice. Those who do not take the hand offered to them must flee underground or die in a hail of lead. For decades, those that fled drank water from puddles, scraped lichens from walls and cracked cockroaches. They got rid of the last scraps of civilization, their hearts and minds poisoned by hatred. Now they step from the shadows. Teeth filed, spiked clubs and stone knifes in hand. They will reclaim what was once theirs.

Franka, Glands on the Psychonauts’ bodies become bloated and crumble. A sweetish scent rises, wafts down the Ziggurats’ steps into the land of humans and becomes entangled between clay vents and ruins. The Pheromancers weave their nets. They beguile, obfuscate minds, and assimilate. Insects have long been at their service, and human will vanishes in their oily haze. Forcing them to live as drones in the queens’ hive. Where Homo Degenesis flourishes, Homo Sapiens fade. Humans flee the wasp storms and termite attacks to the rivers, only to see vents grow on their fields, laden with ants. Soon, the land will spit forth the swarm. Village after village decays. But now, the Frankers fight. The rivers carry them deep into enemy territory, where they fire pesticide bombs, smoke out breeding colonies and assassinate. A whole people rises.

Pollen, Mother spore fields tear up cities and turn the land into a restless sea of decaying stone. Spider webs span chasms and hide ruins. Thousands of arachnid black eyes follow every step. Where green grows, Rift Centipedes burst from the ground to drag the sprout into the depths of their breeding colonies. The ground crackles, rising and falling in a monthly rhythm like waves on distant seas. Here and there, forgotten cities break through the ancient gossamer and bathe in sunlight. They remain for days or weeks before falling down again as the spiders close the wounds in their web. The permafrost thaws in circular areas, giving birth to a steaming paradise of translucent plants. The surrounding spore fields rot, their rings collapse. But they try to resist. Waves of spiders strangle the strange vegetation in their webs. Streams of Rift Centipedes dive into the feverish ground, surrounded by root membranes and skewered by quickly growing thorns. They bite themselves, poison the soil, and tear themselves free. A subterranean battle rages until the Rift Centipedes finally push through and the oasis above crumbles. Spore fields and their plagues are pitted against bizarre proliferation. The Polleners live somewhere in between. They defend the oasis with stone axes and passion, even though they know it is only a matter of time before the wasteland crashes back down and they must start anew. Uprooted to once again drift through the tundras, their few belongings on sleds as they follow the spore fields in search of a new home.

Balkhan, The Balkhan is a land of extremes, permeated by strength and pride and threatening to be torn by primordial forces on a daily basis. Storms ravage the plains, making the tree tops of endless forests quiver. Winter hits the people with arctic cold and mountains of snow. Summer burns the grassy plains to stubble fields. And when it rains, torrents gouge the valleys and merge into raging rivers. The humans mirror their home: savage and untamed, unbeholden, passionate and volatile. Power struggles rage across the region, as bloody disputes turn farmers into warriors overnight and their wives into widows the next. Only in these troubled times do the warlords lay down their malice at their doorsteps and shake hands with men they would have slain only a day before. Now they attack the enemy together, fueled by passion with no compromise, loyal like a father unto his son. But once the threat has been conquered, the winds will shift, and old alliances will fade like dreams in the morning sun. Above all this, the deep, resonating song of the Dushani rises. Nature is their music box. He can tune and shape his song to create the perfect harmony, extinguishing any dissonances as if his life depended on it. His melody infiltrates the heart and captures the mind, making changes there. Pain or comfort. Gives and takes.

Hyprispania, Africans roam the Alhambra’s gardens, sitting in the shadows of awnings and drinking tea with native Hybrispanians. In the midday heat, they retreat to libraries and shadowed halls of ancient peoples. They have grown fond of the land. Sevilla to them is a second Tripoli. It seems as if the Neolibyan consuls tightly controlled ancient Al-Andalus in southern Hybrispania. But the borders were drawn with the blood of Hybrispanian resistance fighters and Scourgers. The pinpricks of the Guerreros deplete Cordoba; the Scourgers follow up by driving the Hybrispaniards into the jungles, shooting them from their buggies and cutting down men, women and children alike. Fear and hatred take over. The Hybrispaniards are in no way inferior to them, planting sting and explosive traps and quietly enter the Africans’ homes at night. Acts of mercy are punished – if not by the enemy, then by other Guerreros. Every Hybrispaniard is instilled with the idea of freedom and reconquest at birth. All around him, friends, brothers, sisters and companions rise to heroes in battle, then fall in a hail of bullets the very next moment. These martyrs form the foundation of Hybrispanian culture: battle paintings adorn houses, songs prepare for death, texts teach the use of weapons and survival in the jungle. Life falls by the wayside. The Scourgers are superior in number and weaponry. The resistance would have died long ago if the Guerreros hadn’t received help from the enigmatic Pregnoctics. These strangers delve into past and future and offer snippets of the future to the daring: the outcome of skirmishes and attack routes. Of course, the price can be one’s soul.

Purgare, The need for strength, insight and a higher power has always burned in the hearts of the Purgers. The Anabaptists opened their arms and took in their lost brothers and sisters. With warmth and love, they anointed them with Elysian oils – and threw them into purgatory. Partitioned by a mountain range, Purgare is divided into two distinct regions. In the east, olive groves, wine vineyards, and other crops grow. Ancestral holds are lined up like pearls on a string, each speaking of familial tradition and honor. The west, however, has been burnt and poisoned by the Reaper’s vapors. The ground quivers as rivers of lava roll relentlessly toward the Mediterranean. Amidst this destruction are the Psychokinetics. The Anabaptists know them by many names: Scum of the Demiurge, The Primeval, Devourers of Paradise. Fleas and mosquitoes buzz around them. Clouds of gossamer burst from ravines and rocky clefts – each hard and sharp like glass. In Rifts, pure elemental darkness condenses and grows into crystalline structures. The air itself compresses into force fields that fracture the sunlight thousandfold. The Anabaptists say Humankind must prove its worth right here and now and march into the final battle. They consider themselves the chosen ones and willingly follow Cathedral City into a holy war.

Africa, Though Africa has long since liberated itself, driving the white man into the sea, the old wound is far too deep. Every ship sunk by Mediterranean pirates, every battle in Hybrispania and the Balkhan, it all brings up old pain. The chains from the past rattle like dissonant wind chimes and echo into today. Yet Africa is strong and flourishes. The Neolibyan merchant Cult has been feeding the coastal cities with European loot for centuries. It has bored wells, erected factories and paved foot paths to glorious promenades. Legendary artisans carve ancestral steles, forge and engrave hunting guns. Water carriers even give out free drinks, courtesy of the Neolibyans. The markets smell of spices, fruit and tea. Hosts of children sit and listen to old men showing their scars and telling tales about every mark. They talk about expeditions into the Crow’s land. About the Scourgers’ bravery and the battles for Cordoba against the savages. About the pale shadows who love their rifles more than their mothers and wives. A gentle breeze wafts over from the Mediterranean. Blue and red awnings fly, the coal on the hookahs glows and sends ashes up into the wind. Rain clouds roll across the sky. It’s in the air – soon, the rain will pelt down. It will fall on the jungle, too. Where once a sandy desert glowed in the sun, rivers now meander through the land. Mangroves sink their roots into the water, as the jungle steams in the heat. But in this jungle, something strange is growing: plants with pentagonal to octagonal leaves, prickly and tangled like a nightmare. The Psychovores. One scratch and a human’s skin starts to blister, boils searing and blackening within seconds. Replacing the old vegetation, Psychovores have transformed the land and its peoples. Everyone around the Psychovores find themselves abandoning their native languages, relapsing into a primordial tongue that only those nearby can understand. Under the influence of Psychovores, all language barriers have fallen and Africa has united, but the diversity of their tribes and cultures diluted as well. Now the Lion, Africa’s unifying symbol, rules supreme. The Neolibyans are its heart, lending it strength. The Scourgers are its claws, killing its prey. And the Anubians are its soul, governing its fate.

Under each cult I've listed their opinion of other cults.
(Awoken: Those who were chosen to "Rebuild" after the end.. they were made to abandon everything they had, loved ones, home, and careers alike. sent to bunkers where they were dressed in tight, cryojumpsuits, and placed into the pods. the last thing they felt was the cryo-gel pouring over them, and freezing them.

(Spitalians: Man’s last line of defense against the Primer and its creatures. They explore the spore fields, dissect dead Psychonauts, develop poisons and weapons. With fungicides, they cut swathes into the Sepsis and carry spore-covered muscles in glass tubes, which lead them into the abberants’ breeding grounds. If you are on the side of humanity and therefore, the Spitalians, you must answer their questions. The Spitalians are doctors. They live by strict rules, shave their skulls, and rub themselves down with limestone. In the cities, they administer hygienics. Healing is a privilege that is earned. Any sign of the spore drug Burn is prosecuted. The Burners are burnt. The Spitalians cannot afford to be merciful. Their legions of famulants fight the consequences of leniency in Franka every day

(Chroniclers: The Stream once encompassed the world and touched every mind. It recorded and catalogued every second; the pure, digital knowledge of Mankind bundled into evolutionary algorithms. Deep down on the bottom of this sea of data, something stirred. Humans sought it, searched, and found what they did not understand. But they believed. The Chroniclers are the offspring of these Streamers. The Eshaton made the Stream dry up and petrified the sea of knowledge. The Chroniclers keep up its work, buying artifacts from the Scrappers, fueling an entire market as they search for remainders of the past and the last servers. One day, they will reactivate the Stream and lead Humankind back to the light. Until then, they must be strong and resist the unruly clans and cults. They are not fighters, but with voice-amplifying Vocoders, cascades of light, and shock gloves, they are considered cruel gods in the wasteland. People in the cities consider them strange. Their language is riddled with archaic technical expressions, and they prefer the companionship of machines over humans. But that shouldn’t fool anyone. For they watch, collecting data on everyone and everything. Advising and manipulating the world dancing on their strings.

(Hellvetics: Deep within the Alpine mountains, they expected the Eshaton. The ensuing inferno did not spare them, though. The Reaper’s blow cut through their Fortress, tore open ravines and belched magma. As hellfire swept through the lands, the Hellvetics confronted nature’s wrath. They sealed off tunnels. Redirected streams of lava. Built bridges to lands considered lost and protected themselves with fire-resistant barricades. The Alps were broken that day, but not the Hellvetics. Decades later, they stepped out of the mountains and followed their order. As offspring of the Swiss military, they were in charge of the old cantons’ security. They expanded the Alpine Fortresses and opened transit tunnels for those who must cross the mountains – and have been demanding money for passage ever since. Hellvetics are soldiers through and through. Their doctrine ties them to weapon, comrade and country; every unnecessary shot weakens the Fortress. Every missed shot is punished. No one out there can match them in their defenses, and no one can oppose their assault rifles, the Trailblazers. In their Alpine Fortress with its guns and defensive corridors, the Hellvetics consider themselves unassailable. But the world around them is changing. Psychonautic phenomenons crystallize to razor sharp Filaments in the tunnels. Grotesquely misshapen creatures hurry through the Balkhan section and open high security gates with a gesture. The cantons resist the military government and rise up. The Hellvetics must march out into the world. They must watch, learn and fight.

(Judges: The Judges brought law to the wastelands. With hammer and musket, they confronted the savages, hiding their faces behind wide brimmed hats. They conjured hailstorms of lead, slaughtered the Cockroach Clan and judged outlaws with a blow of their hammers. They pursued their opponents like a pack of bloodhounds and followed the survivors deep down into their primordial underground. And they saw it was good. In the city of Justitian, they completed their vision of a just and safe world. The walls were insurmountable, the law was strong, the people were not free, but free of fear. Settlement after settlement placed themselves under Justitian’s custody. The Protectorate was born. But peaceful times are over. The ruins teem with life again. The clans have grown strong and learned from the past. A Judge can no longer depend solely on his Codex – Justitian’s law. If he wants to survive in the Protectorate, he must master the law of the jungle

(Clanners: The individual is nothing. Those who wanted to survive after the global conflagration joined groups, lived by their rules, cared and fought for them. Strangers became friends, friends became lovers. The survivors merged into Clanners. In terms of civilization, some tumbled into the darkness of a new stone age. They prayed to deities like Thunder and Sun and ate their ancestors’ flesh to absorb their strength. Other Clanners clung to traditional knowledge, indulging in morality, manners and rapid-fire rifles. Very few settled down. Most see their home under a nomadic sky.

(Scrappers: Drawn towards the ruins, away from the humming, raucous cities, Scrappers dig in the dust. Every cut of the spade brings them closer to the era of the ancient people. Working all the way down until they can drag technical wonders caked with soot into the light of day. Their faces and bodies tell a tale of dust, cold, stone splinters and hunger. But when they hear the wind whistle through gaping windows and the old buildings creak in the midday sun, they know that this is their home. Here, they know every nook and cranny. They can delve into tunnels and break the surface again somewhere totally different. They know which lichens are edible and where to find water. No one can best them out here. If they need to return to the city for some reason, they choose the direct path to the Chroniclers’ alcoves, drop their findings there, and get paid. For days, they revel in the city’s maelstrom, knock the dirt from their skin, fill their bellies with  greasy stew and float through the Apocalyptics’ joints. But soon, they hear the ruins call again, promising them peace.

(Neolibyans: Their ships carry treasures from all over the world. Luxury and the scent of precious oils accompany them wherever they go. In Tripol’s Bank of Commerce, they haggle over trade routes, acquire plantations or oil fields. With roaring steel fortresses on treads, they sell weapons and spices to savages and deploy troops of Scrappers and Scourgers deep in enemy territory. They enjoy resistance, for it often results in the greatest profit. From within their ranks come great seafarers and explorers who venture deep into the Psychovores or the frigid North, cataloging ancient fortresses and opening new trade routes. Other Neolibyans see the world through their rifle’s scope, traveling as far as Pollen to hunt Biokinetics and earn reputations as great hunters. Neolibyans take a no for a yes. For them, there are no problems, only options – and in the best cases, an adventure.

(Scourgers: They disdain Neolibyans for their thick paunches, greed and pomposity. Scourgers walk the way of the warrior in the footsteps of their ancestors, integrating themselves into their caste’s strict hierarchy. What they need to keep their bodies lithe and minds wide awake, they take from the Neolibyans. They fight for no less than the African people. In the land of the Crow, they are considered harbingers of death. They hide their faces behind ancestral masks and carry shield, spear and rifle. The Damu assess the enemy, anticipating their movement and recognizing every weakness. Then the Chaga charge, leading the pack into battle. The Simba are entitled to the strongest of all opponents. Theirs is the greatest feat on a day of blood. Conquered enemies are enslaved and handed over to the Neolibyans. On vast plantations, they will work off the white man’s collective debt.

(Anubians: The Anubians consider themselves chosen ones. The seven Circles tattooed onto their skin represent the seven transformations they must endure to make their body a perfect vessel of Ka. They guide their people from life until death, perform ceremonies and placate their ancestral spirits in their grudge against everything that lives. With every Anubis canopy they empty, one skin Circle vanishes, and they begin to realize that believing in spirits, rites and traditions is a peculiar matter. They continue evolving, walking the world with eyes wide and a sharp mind. Some recognize the healer in themselves and learn to catalyze highly poisonous Psychovore seeds in their bodies into potent drugs. Others take the sickle and leave the land of the Crow, cutting the lifelines of Psychonauts and thus obliterate a disturbance of the wave. They always end up in Cairo. When the third Circle vanishes, the Anubians prepare to advance into the city that is overgrown by Psychovores, already feeling the pull of the pyramids. Soon, the last mysteries will be revealed to them.

(Jehammedans: A Jehammedan’s life is determined from the day he is born. He will fulfill his duties within the family, like his father and his grandfather before him. They honor the family as decreed by Jehammed, the last prophet. As a young Ismaeli, the Jehammedan herds his kin’s goats and imagines how life would have been as an Isaaci, a blessed child. What feats he would have committed! But he knows his place, winds his phylacteries tighter and calls himself a fool. Someday the Jehammed’s teachings will allow him a test. As Sword of Jehammed, he may fight the Anabaptists and other scum to prove his worth to his kin. He will then find a wife, a Hagari, and start his own family. The cycle begins anew. Yet there is a third path. This boy may one day heed the call of Aries, the ram-headed one, and learn more about the unknown truth of the Jehammedans than he ever desired.

(Apocalyptics: Apocalyptics live a pure and unbridled life. They appear in flocks, swooping into gambling dens and nesting in bordellos. Their distillates are stronger, their Burn more potent, their whores more beautiful. Any vice finds a welcome home with them. They live in the present. All emotions are sacred to them and equally celebrated as if they were the last. They name their flocks for their origins or way of life. They earn the name of a bird that embodies their character. Knife fighters are Stormcrows. Whores and thieves are Magpies. A Woodpecker expands the nest, running shebeens and smuggling routes. Above all, the Raven leads the flock. He knows how to interpret the cards of the Apocalyptic Tarot and, with much flair and drama, shows their most desired future to everyone. The cards are an arbitrary tool, waiting to be directed against anyone opposing the Raven. In the Judges, the Apocalyptics have found their nemesis. Whenever law and order crosses paths with crime and excess, it’s bound to be interesting.

(Anabaptists: You only need to walk the world with eyes open to see the truth of the neo-gnostic teachings! The land was once beautiful and full of trees. The sun shone down with a friendly face upon fields and happy people. But today, paradise is rotten. Spawn of the demiurge, Psychonauts in all their carnality carry no divine soul. The root of all evil is clear to see and must be hacked to pieces and cut out. The Anabaptists have made this purge their goal in life. Their Ascetics heal and till the tortured soil, sow wheat and baptize it with the purest water. They produce oils and blend them to create essences that lend strength and heal pain. The Orgiastics are the Anabaptist fighters: full of elysian oils, they confront the Psychonauts with swords and flame throwers. The final battle for Humanity is being fought here and now, and the Anabaptists carry the torch.

(Palers: For centuries, they waited in the crypts of the divine ones for their awakening. Far underground in eternal darkness. With deep and crackling voices, glowing blue creatures talk to Palers from the walls, reinforcing their conviction that they are the righteous ones. Chosen to one day throw open the gates to the surface and rule the nations of this earth alongside the divine ones. This day is near, but not near enough. Food is getting scarce, and frequently the Palers must venture out and raid villages at night. Centuries in eternal darkness have transformed them into pale, squat creatures with heightened senses, but without any moral regards for the surface dwellers. Dulcet voices are very important to them. Their demagogues are masters of mental manipulation. One word from them, correctly annunciated with the proper tone and posture, can conjure emotions like fear, desire or pure blinding pain. One by one, their bunkers open. The awakeners among the Palers go searching for their kin and the other 44 bunkers; tightly gripping the holy solar discs they’ll soon brandish in front of locked portals. Some of those portals will swing open and set in motion a plan that is greater than anything the Palers can imagine.

Tarot Cards

0. The Adventurer: Folly, recklessness, and the search for physical and mental limits are the Adventurer’s driving force. He continually confronts situations beyond his abilities. If he survives, he gains experience and looks for new motivations. The Adventurer never stays in one place for too long, because
there is too much to discover. There are ruins to explore, passages to take, Clans to find. He embraces fear as a friend; without it, everything is boring. Nothing is worse than the boredom and predictability of a normal day

I. The Creator: Everything crumbles. Humans simply die. Only their buildings and inventions, the knowledge from their lifetime, survives. The need to leave their legacy, to keep their name from being forgotten, is what drives Creators. They are constantly working meticulously, seeking the biggest challenges to prove themselves worthy by mastering them. They build monoliths, construct defensive walls for villages, weld together pipes for irrigation systems, or consider the awakening of the Stream their life’s work. Nothing motivates a Creator more than the desire to build a monument to his name through his endeavors.

II. The Mentor: Teaching and learning have raised humanity above the state of animals. The Mentor lives in this tradition and shares his knowledge with chosen disciples. He sees himself in them, immortalizes himself and his knowledge through them. He grooms their curiosity and teaches them. One day they will continue his work, and the cycle will continue. Indifference towards the marvels of the world, stubbornness, and stupidity are the banes of humanity. The Mentor disdains those afflicted by them.

III. The Martyr: Self-sacrifice unto self-abandonment is the Martyr’s purpose in life. He gains strength and power from protecting the weak, charging into the fray first, working when everyone else has given up. He suffers for others. The Martyr knows that his solitary actions are more inspiring than any flaming speech. His principles are adamant. They are his shield, his armor, and his weapon at once, a blazing example of willpower and faithfulness. As a paragon, he feels bulletproof. Nothing can make him surrender.

IV. The Ruler: Control is the only way to reach a goal. Most people are mindless cockroaches that need taming. There are tasks to assign and orders to shout. If you let the reins slacken even once, the world tumbles into chaos. The Ruler must lead his flock, be beyond all question, make the right decisions, and lead in person if the people do not recognize his wisdom. Nothing is more frightening for the Ruler than assigning responsibility and power to others.

V. The Seeker: Where do we come from, and where do we go? The questions of life and death vex the Seeker. He wants to unravel the mysteries of the world, dissect them down to the bones, ask questions no one has ever asked before— and answer them. What is behind the 2 to the power of 16 phenomenon? Where did the asteroids come from? What is the nature of the Primer? Was this really the first impact? The Seeker digs in the thicket of the past and in the labs of the present for explanations, but time is hot on his heels.

VI. The Healer: The Healer sees the world’s collapse and fights it. Whether it is a physical wound, barren soil, a burned-out mind, or broken technology, the Healer sees it as his task to rebuild the old order. You can splinter the bone, water the dry soil, and repair an old boat. Everything he does he does meticulously so the collapse will not endanger his work again the next day. The Healer gives up on nothing that is not beyond hope.

VII. The Traditionalist: Order is safety; it separates the humans from the apes. It prevents humanity from wandering aimlessly and falling prey to the next pack of Gendos. Those who stay true to the traditions, honor the family and act accordingly, chase chaos from the world. Anarchy is anathema to the traditionalist. He implores people to look to the past when today’s questions are hard to bear. He clings to the ancient rules, never adapting them, no matter what happens. It would sweep him off his feet. He hates change, only wanting to guarantee continuity.

VIII. The Mediator: If we all spoke the same language, strife and misunderstandings would be no more. The Mediator sees himself as a speaker for all parties, looks for peace in harmony, implores and pacifies. He internalizes the parties’ motives, pointing out common ground to the squabblers and sharpening their understanding for each other. Shouting and loud words are not the Mediator’s way. Emotion must take second place to reason.

IX. The Hermit: People chatter all the time, so much so that every thought drowns in the sea of spoken inanities that constantly surround us. The hermit does not want companionship. He dislikes everybody. He does not want to communicate and is not interested in the stories of others. In a group, he always flees to the fringe, needing his distance from the din of the world. Life as a loner is so much better. No responsibility towards anybody: being left to his own devices makes the Hermit happy. Only in absolute solitude does he find peace.

X. The Heretic: The Heretic does not believe in anything, and nothing is sacred to him. Rules, religions, traditions: everything can and must be scrutinized. He looks for glitches in the system, wants to shake others’ faith. Rebellion, revolts, and riots are the Heretic’s brands. He wants to destroy the stagnation and the traditions, wants to see precious civilization shatter against its own ideals. He casts doubt, and that is good. The more people deviate from their ways, the larger his fellowship.

XI. The Conqueror: The Conqueror only exists between the poles of competing powers. To him, every battle is a power struggle; every decision is a move in the game of life. Victory means everything to him; only losers blather about morale. The Conqueror finds power in his ego’s exorbitance; his hubris drives him towards great deeds. He considers modesty false and vain; he brags about his successes.

XII. The Abomination: Some people have seen too much. Something within them has broken, guiding their thoughts down strange paths. No one wants to be around them. The ways of the Abomination disturb those who meet him. His proximity makes them shiver. He sucks in the fright he awakens in others like mother’s milk. It nourishes and disturbs him, adding to his weirdness. He loves getting lost in fantasies and seeing the fire of fear burn in his opponent’s eyes. When others realize that he has shed any civilized emotions like compassion or responsibility, they see a feral beast looking at them through his eyes. Madness squats in the Abomination’s brain. He is a clockwork bomb without clockwork. Tick tock.

XIII. The Destroyer: To make room for something new, everything old has to die. According to this principle, the Destroyer fully gives in to madness. Everyone is an enemy, and one life will not be enough to destroy them all. He hunts his enemies to the four corners of the world, fighting them, eradicating them. Even if he claims to act for a greater cause, he actually acts for his own sake. When something new grows after the destruction, he has long since moved on. He never looks back.

XIV. The Chosen: People come running to see him, to bask in his glory. Others have always listened to every word the chosen said. All of his words sounded wise. That had its consequences: he sees himself as the solution to every problem. He is the sword splitting apart the Gordian knot, and he is the Messiah that the congregation has awaited. His presence inspires the people, for good or for bad. Those who disdain him and call him a fraud are damned in their faithlessness in his eyes.

XV. The Defiler: The Defiler wears a cloak of envy. Why should others always get more than he does? Why should they be happier, more beautiful, stronger? The Defiler cannot stand other people’s joy. When he drags them down into the muck, when he kicks up a cloud of dust, when he sets lovers at each other’s throats, he fulfills his destiny. The Defiler rules over all those who always feel aggrieved and blame others for it.

XVI. The Protector: The world is full of treasures, small ones and big ones, and they all need protection. The Protector stands in front of his charges like a tower, whether they are people or objects. He wants to preserve things, be they artifacts, cultural achievements, or human life. Whatever the Protector dedicates himself to, he protects with his life until he himself is destroyed.

XVII. The Visionary: When knowledge finally steps out of time and into the foreground of reality, the Visionary has already seen it. He sees the course of the future, thinks decades ahead, accuses unbelievers, and implores people to be reasonable. He hopes to pave the way for a better tomorrow. His intellect and his visions determine humanity’s progress.

XVIII. The Zealot: The Zealot’s faith moves mountains. He toils and suffers beyond human understanding, knowing no limits. His power comes from his devotion to his Lord. He would die for his religion, his Cult, and his ideology, and he proves his worth for the cause day by day. He burns with madness, singeing the minds of those around him until nothing remains but ash drifting in the wind and blazing faith.

XIX. The Disciple: Knowledge is like an ocean the Disciple will travel on for all his life. He follows great teachers, looking for the Bygones’ forgotten libraries, forever driven by his curiosity. He is enormously knowledgeable, but it is never enough. He carries many ways of life and specializations within him, but he can never decide on one path

(XX The Righteous: Action and conscience are inseparable, and the Righteous’s conscience is pure. He sees the world in stark contrasts, and people around him consider him self-righteous. Indeed, he passes up no opportunity to implement his idea of righteousness. As a keeper of questions of faith or law, he judges everyone, every deed, every people, even every emotion. Everything is either good or bad. He never doubts himself.

XXI. The Traveler: The Traveler must wander the world to grow by experiencing it and its people. He collects impressions and experiences like others collect Gendo skulls, but he does not keep them to himself. He spreads good and bad news, connecting the hinterland to the metropolis, linking Clans and Cults. He is restless; he longs for the road.

Posts : 80
Join date : 2016-01-29


Back to top Go down

Back to top

- Similar topics

Permissions in this forum:
You cannot reply to topics in this forum