Chrysalis

Let it be written here and in no other volume. In these pages, find the collected wisdom of the Cults on the subjects of our reverence.

This page deals with the domains of the Ancients and what little is known. Though none have seen these hallowed places with their own eyes, shards of information have been gathered in other ways, through interrogation of monsters who may have some connection to the Great Ones, through examination of ancient documents or forensic inspection of records provided by our founders.

Despite the best efforts of our collective Cults, by far the best source is the interpretation of dreams.

Through the centuries, high ranking members across Pangera have experienced strangely detailed dreams of the Ancients and their domains. Only when networked together did we arrive at the realisation that these may be more than just figments conjured by imagination, but rather glimpses at a reality we should never see.

How or why these visions occur, there are none who can postulate a valid theory, yet it is the view of the collective Cult that they are real. Here we record for posterity and the eyes of the Hierophants what we have learned, and the holy names bestowed on the domains of the Ancients.

Yarrum the Eternal Worm

In the realm of Yarrum, there is only the worm.

Theorazzn of the Decaying World

A sense of the Decaying World can be seen in the fifth stratum, which, for unknown reasons, the Ancient coloured with its touch many years ago. That blighted place is inimical to life, yet the realm of Theorazzn is beyond even that, a nightmare realm where the air itself drips with deadly toxins. Without proper protection, living creatures are melted to nothing in seconds, decaying into bones that last less than a minute before rotting away.

Syssernix the Dark Spear

Evershade, a realm of almost total and perpetual darkness, is where Syssernix holds domain. Teeming with sightless monsters of terrible power that swim through the shadows like fish in the sea. In the deepest and darkest pools, Syssernix makes her resting place, a coral fortress that none dare enter.

Morribolg of the Fetid Earth

The Living Bog is the realm in which Morribolg makes its home. Saturated in Water and Earth mana, the Bog is bursting with life, and death. The roots of trees curl around bones of long dead monsters, locking them away from reclamation by the Dungeon. Deep in the centre, Morribolg dwells, a living mound of mud that will never let go of anything it touches. Anything that lives within this realm suffers under the suffocating pressure the Ancient exerts.

Carriflare the Hell Flame

domain. A place of eternal flame, there is nothing within the place that does not burn, even mana. All

Rigorite the Mountain Breaker

steel rivers, tungsten trees, platinum grass, and other, rarer metals infused with mana make up the realm of Rigorite. A mountainous beast of irresistible strength, the Ancient cuts through its realm like a knife. None of the

Tarriflyx the Hunger

warped reality itself in this place, creating the Crags of Famine. A blasted wasteland of rock and rent stone, no monster who dwells within can ever be sated. They must fight and eat,

the earth, Tarriflyx dwells, ready to drag any who come too close into its

Arconidem the Demon God

each and every one, his court is sustained only by their proximity to the god, for they cannot hope to contest the monsters who spawn within

Who Feasts on

of Zothoth have gone mad. What little we know has been gathered through the dedicated work of the Cult of Asylum, interpreting the gibberings of those blessed with the vision to piece together a picture

Torra the Dread Dog

Grounds when awakened, an oppressive aura of pure terror gripping all unfortunate enough to come near. Dreamers who glimpse the Ancient are known to live in terror for the rest of their lives, screaming and flailing their limbs at the smallest bark. Torra is a solitary hunter with no pack, for no creature can remain in its presence without succumbing to the terror. Even the Hound Cult has no

Gon the Sightless Freak

Gon, none may see.

Yolesh the Ever Dying

was once defeated and turned into the heart of Undeath it has become, or if that is how it has always been, is unknown. The Ancient's all-consuming aura of death fills the Graveyard. Nothing can die in this place. Not truly. A dreamer saw a vision of himself battling a horror, losing a hand in the combat. The hand animated itself and skittered up his leg, attempting to choke him. In

Lerrewyn the Grasping Tree

In truth, these visions are a lie. The Willow is real, for that is Lerrewyn herself, the desiccated corpses of monsters drooping down, coiled in her vines. It is the forest that is the lie, for that is also Lerrewyn, her roots having forced their way into the plant monsters of her domain and enslaved them. The Creeping Forest is not an easy place to

Horgran the Butcher

the monsters within delight in butchery, but none so

Perrianon of Blood

of this place are warped by the contradiction at the heart of the Ancient who dominates them. All bleed, at all

Kygar the Storm Bringer

for that is what it is. A roiling, boiling cloud charged with such power that anything drawing too close is blasted with lightning as thick as a

the storm, able to withstand the intense strikes or so swift that they