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

their eyes burned out, a terrible price to pay for a glimpse of this god. Within Allfire, Carriflare holds domain. A place of eternal flame, there is nothing within the place that does not burn, even mana. All monsters in this place have adapted to be either creatures of

Rigorite the Mountain Breaker

metal. Iron mountains, 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 monsters, the most

Tarriflyx the Hunger

itself in this place, creating the

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

Arconidem the Demon God

on his living throne, surrounded by his court. Powerful demons each and every one, his court is sustained only by their proximity to the god, for they

Who Feasts

dreamt of the realm 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 of this place. Described as Mind Spike, this realm is a twisted vision of madness. Ever shifting, ever warping, nothing remains the same for long. Atop the Spike, Zothoth

Torra the Dread Dog

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

of Gon, none may

Yolesh the Ever Dying

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

enormous willow have haunted the dreams of the Hanging Cult for centuries. In truth, these visions are a lie. The Willow is real, for that is Lerrewyn herself, the desiccated corpses of monsters drooping

Horgran the Butcher

Fortress of Flesh. A place of endless gore, the monsters within delight in butchery, but none so much as Horgran. When awake, the

Perrianon of Blood

form Clotted Heart, the realm of Perrianon. A place of both life and death, the monsters of this place are warped by the contradiction at the heart of the Ancient who dominates them. All bleed, at all times. No ichor, blood or

Kygar the Storm Bringer

as Stormcloud, for that is what it is. A roiling, boiling cloud charged with such

surrounded by a hurricane of lightning that follows the Ancient wherever it goes. Powerful creatures hunt within the storm, able to withstand the intense strikes or so swift that they can dodge them. Yet none can approach the Storm Bringer. Even asleep, Kygar