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

have had 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

Rigorite the Mountain Breaker

realm of Rigorite. A mountainous beast of irresistible strength, the Ancient cuts through its realm like

Tarriflyx the Hunger

they had gnawed off their own arm in their sleep. The aura of dreadful starvation that emanates from the Ancient has warped reality itself in this place, creating the Crags of

dwells, ready to drag

Arconidem the Demon God

court. Powerful demons each and every one, his court is sustained only by their proximity to the god, for they cannot

Who Feasts

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

Torra the Dread Dog

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

Gon the Sightless Freak

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,

Lerrewyn the Grasping Tree

are a lie. The Willow is real, for that is Lerrewyn herself, the desiccated corpses of monsters drooping down, coiled in her

Horgran the Butcher

of endless gore, the monsters within delight in butchery, but none so much as Horgran. When awake, the Ancient stalks the cavernous halls, hacking apart whatever crosses their path. The Butcher seldom even eats, satisfied

Perrianon of Blood

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 life

Kygar the Storm Bringer

what it is. A roiling, boiling cloud charged with such power that anything drawing too close is

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