WHAT YOU SEE HERE...
YOU WILL NOT SPEAK A WORD OF.
This carrd is a collection of information on the entity known as Cruor.
Some of this information may be used freely. The majority is either
off-limits, or requires negotiation up-front. Very little of this page's
information impacts RP in any notable way without prior consent.
CRUOR
folklore figure. sixth astral era. year 300. coerthas.
The first mentions of "Cruor" originate from Coerthas, sometime around the year 300 of the Sixth Astral Era, from the first elezen to migrate to the far north. Firsthand accounts are few and far between, and the tale predominantly is one communicated through oral history, and little else.Visual depictions of Cruor are startlingly lacking. Those that exist vary so wildly that they may as well be entirely nonexistent. The gender, height, build, and clothing of "Cruor" have been described and depicted with such dramatic variation that many believe the term's origin to be a colloquialism for any unidentifiable vigilante in the northern regions of Aldenard. The only consistency that might suggest a real, valid throughline is the consistent nature of the aftermath, and the existence of their sigil.Some think it's a "signature". Others theorize that it's a mark to remind Cruor not to re-tread old ground. It's the same in every case - two crossed lines, one vertical, one horizontal. The vertical line hooks to the right. A backwards C is overlaid across both lines, and a single dot sits in the lower left corner of the symbol.The symbol is known and shared among survivors and victims. When speaking too loudly might place one in danger, the familiar shape is enough to communicate a message.Currently, the mantle belongs to Yora Caarvelian. It is shared by Apollo as her secondary.
RULES of ENGAGEMENT
Cruor is intended to be, first and foremost, a folklore figure. The majority of Cruor's themes work best when Cruor is not a real, tangible figure that can be identified and spoken to. Additionally, Cruor guards incredibly vulnerable individuals as part of their work. This requires significant discretion. At the current moment, if characters find out about Yora and Apollo being Cruor without thorough prior planning, it would cause both of them significant prolonged distress. This would easily mean months on end of writing our characters as being stressed out and walking on eggshells. This can be fun when done right, but isn't something we want to opt into at this time.This character and all associated plot elements require a higher bar to entry than everything else that I write. You may engage with the story elements on this site only if you have taken the time to read and understand its contents in entirety. I will not be workshopping anything associated with Cruor if suggestions made to me are outside of the scope outlined on this carrd. If you would like to read for the sake of knowledge, then please feel free! Also, if you're reading this site, please practice discretion if you think you've stumbled across something that I haven't mentioned anywhere else. That might be intentional!
DO
ways you can interact with cruor
Write a witness to the aftermath. Cruor doesn't usually clean up the bodies they leave behind. The aftermath of an attack by Cruor is typically highly identifiable, the bodies of their targets half melted as if by acid.
Write someone whose work has been obstructed by Cruor. Cruor doesn't collaborate with other organizations or entities. Anyone in the business of harm reduction, military strategy and coordination, trafficking, criminal networking, and other adjacent fields could have stumbled across Cruor's handiwork... for better or for worse.
Write a one-sided relationship. They're a folklore figure. People have opinions about those! Maybe your vigilante has a one-sided rivalry with the stranger who keeps beating them to the punch. Maybe your character is a former victim whose captors were killed by Cruor, but they never saw them. Or maybe they were never saved at all, and feel like they deserved to be.
Write other powerful entities that are aware of their presence. Cruor carries an enormous amount of aether with them. Enough to give off an "aura" of sorts, or the impression of "territory" in the threat-evaluation part of another entity's mind. It's not intentional, but Cruor registers as a "bigger fish" on the scale of things. Even if it's all just a bluff, more or less.
Write someone who's heard the rumors. If you're in the right circles - on Cruor's good side, and their bad side - having heard the name before isn't hard.
Write someone who has followed the trail, and had it go cold. Cruor knows how to cover their tracks, but an especially strategy-minded individual could follow the trail a good way. It's not impossible to have followed Cruor's network, or the trail of sigils left to lead survivors to safety. Perhaps they've found a safehouse somewhere along the path, before one of Cruor's liaisons caught on and cleverly turned them away.
Write someone who's crossed paths with Cruor before, and not known it. When you were younger and less wise, did you open a locked door for someone you assumed needed to be there? Did you think it was maintenance? A manager? A commanding officer? You don't recall the details of their face - just that they seemed to have an aura of competence. You were told about the aftermath later. No one thought to blame you, but you know the truth.
DO NOT
things to avoid
Write a surviving trafficker. Cruor does not leave witnesses alive. If the circumstances don't allow Cruor to tie off all loose ends, then they do not act.
Write a character that was taken by Cruor. If a survivor can make their way on their own, even if it's with difficulty, then Cruor will leave them (with supports in place). Very few who Cruor has liberated have actually seen them in the act. Those who have typically disappear completely.
Write someone who saw through Cruor's ward. There's a little bit of flexibility here, but for the most part, the vast majority of people will not perceive Cruor as the masked freak we know they appear to be.
Write that your character knows Yora and/or Apollo are Cruor. No, aethersight will not identify them past the ward.
Write that your character knows Cruor's actions or attempts to interfere with them. Cruor's movements are unpredictable by intention, and the ward often prevents them from being followed. Your character can chase the rumors, but it's unlikely you'll ever get ahead of them.
Start a fight with Cruor. I'm just not interested in writing a story about someone's grand eldritch being or super-powerful Yakuza empire doubling down and pouring everything they have into tracking down and getting rid of Cruor. Investigating is fine. Taking potshots at them and trying to trip them up is fine. But intending to take them down is a massive plotline that I just don't have the time nor energy to be involved in.
Follow the trail to the Wyld. There are no direct connections to the Wyld in Cruor's wake. The best that you'll get is that Cruor is a Coerthan myth, and the FC is based in Ishgard (which could get a determined and nosey character close, but will not appear to be directly linked).
Create an organization purpose-built for finding Cruor. This would be like if a real-world company sank thousands of dollars into proving that bigfoot was real. While bigfoot probably has some hardcore believers out there, and you could probably cite some pretty solid evidence, ultimately most of it is circumstantial. The vast majority of people will dismiss this as a waste of time and resources.
OTHER
general principles that govern how cruor is written
"predator math"
I enjoy to play with the idea that Cruor's general "aura" is something that is vaguely perceivable by other powerful entities. Cruor themselves is not especially strong; it's strategy that accounts for the majority of the impression of untouchability. However, the sheer amount of aether stored inside of Cruor's body creates an ambient pressure, which can be detected by other entities on similar or greater levels of power. Think of how some fish can detect electromagnetic signatures of other fish nearby; this is similar to how I imagine other entities perceive Cruor ambiently.When determining whether something is worth confronting, in the animal world, predators evaluate the potential risk to reward ratio of a conflict. In most cases, even a victory would cost more energy than the conflict is worth. Cruor is relatively nonthreatening, and holds a healthy respect for others on their level. They remain out of the way; their scope is concerned with more mundane evils than cosmic. In most cases, when other entities that could detect and confront Cruor are in play, both choose to respect the other. The expenditure of getting into the fight just isn't worth what might be gained.
expectation is reality
Does your character assume that someone in Cruor's role could only be a man? The ward will bend their interpretation of reality to fit their preconceptions. Cruor's voice, stature, appearance, and build are all wholly malleable, and subject to your character's biases. If your character has ever crossed paths with Cruor, the figure's entire being seems to bend to your character's internalized beliefs regarding who should be standing in front of them, in any particular circumstance. This can change between encounters, as well. Their appearance is never "fixed". Instead, it will always bend to suit whatever context and environment they exist within.
HISTORY
before the name
Before "Cruor" was a thought within collective consciousness, there existed a boy named Lupault. He was fifteen summers, traveling with his family northward. They were one of many groups of migrants to Coerthas in the wake of the recent Calamity, among the earliest to settle among the green hills.Prior to the founding of the faith of Thordan, superstition still found its way into the hearts of men. Fearing that the calamity would repeat if the world's aspect of aether tipped once more, a small group of fanatics dabbled with magicks that enhanced the body's natural filtration of aether. They created a curse. On inflicting this curse upon a vessel, the body would then pull in aether, strip it of aspect, and release it back into the environment once the body had been sacrificed. Twelve cursed bodies were scattered in the Dravanian wilderness.The thirteenth lived.
the early days
Lupault was happened upon by a woodsman before he could expire, shortly after being inflicted with this curse. His body had been all but transformed into an aetheric filter - but it would not let go of this aether until he perished. Before the dark took him, he was rescued by happenstance.Taken in and brought back to health by the stranger, Lupault repaid the favor by remaining in the woodsman's company. He learned to tend the garden for his rescuer. He learned how to cut wood and light the hearth. He learned to repair the roof and build an outbuilding. He considered this the debt repaid, running the homestead for the man as he aged. His rescuer had no children or family of his own, and when he no longer could heft his axe, Lupault stepped in.But while the woodsman aged, Lupault found that time stilled for him. Eventually, the man passed, but Lupault found himself now timeless and unchanging. The curse that failed to kill him fed him aether enough to prolong his life... indefinitely.Lupault took over caring for the homestead, in the absence of its original occupant. Faced with the reality of his new, timeless nature, he sought new purpose. He spoke with travelers and dravanians, with trappers and hunters, with adventurers and other woodsmen in Coerthas to find his answer.
the dragonsong
The Dragonsong War brought change to Coerthas that Lupault could not have predicted, but the Dravanian people were well aware of him, by now. Cursed, immortal, and having begun to hone his body and blood as a weapon, he knew that he would not be welcomed in the Holy See. They knew it, too.Lupault was not the only one of the Coerthans who chose to abandon Ishgard's protection. He spoke with the Dravanians he had come to know, and asked them a favor. He sought to offer the same kindness his savior once had offered. To do this, he needed somewhere that Ishgard's men would not look. He struck a deal with them. Those people who could fight no longer for the Dravanians would be able to rest in his care. In turn, the Dravanian people wove their magicks to hide his little homestead from view. Ishgard's men could pass him, and his valley, and find nothing there.When villages were razed and outposts collapsed, he appeared in the wake of war to offer a hand. He was not a soldier, nor a fighter. But he could do this. Not because he needed to, nor because he gained anything from it. Because he could. The circumstances afforded to him allowed him to offer that hand... so he did. Stealing quietly into the rubble left behind in the wake of two warring nations, he took those who could no longer fight, and led them to rest.
someone has to do it
Days turned to weeks. Weeks to years. Years to decades. Decades to centuries.The same, over and over. An endless monotony with no reward. It began with those left behind in the wake of war; those with razed homes and nowhere left to go. Wanderlust led him beyond Coerthas' borders as time trudged on, and no end came to the conflict at his doorstep. Alone and unable to be perceived, even the man's name meant little to him. He made no friends. Had no family. Made no connections. He was his work, and naught more.Cruor, people called him. His blood became his weapon - the only thing that others recalled about him. The further he wandered, the less he could deny that his role became routine. No matter where his feet fell, they carried him the same way. To darkened back-alleys and forgotten pits. To offer his hands, again and again, to the people who no one else would offer theirs to.Wherever they could begin again, he would walk with them. Hear their stories. Comfort where he could. Even though his shoulders sagged with the years, he'd still offer his smile, and a chance to start over. He promised a peace that many had been robbed of.Those who had nothing left to start over with would not be found again.
nine thousand, six hundred, and seventy one
Cruor wanted to die. A thousand years of endless toil had burned him down to his last. With the sheer amount of aether contained inside of him, still, he had to pass it to someone. He needed a successor to watch over the legacy he'd built.One problem stopped him. Anyone who would do him the mercy of killing him was unfit for the duty. If they would offer him this kindness, then they would offer it to the very people he had devoted his life to saving.Eventually, for want of an escape, he passed his curse to any potential successor to test them. Nine thousand, six hundred, and seventy one scions failed. All of them had their tenure cut short by their own reckless choices, or Cruor ended their lives himself, dissatisfied with their performance. All failed. All, that was, until the nine thousand, six hundred, and seventy second scion. A happy accident, whose rage he manipulated to his own ends. She would not forgive him the harm he did to her.In the past four years, the mantle of Cruor has passed to her.
WHAT CRUOR DOES
their purpose
WHERE? The tale of "Cruor" began in the far north of Aldenard, but has since expanded to all corners of the realm. The reputation and influence spans nearly all of the known central and eastern portion of Etheirys, though it has yet to carry as far west as Tural (with some rare and very recent exceptions).
WHEN? In the past thousand years, since near the beginning of the Dragonsong War.
WHO? Any who are in the most need. This does not discriminate based on creed or country, at times.
HOW? Not every rescue involves the death of the perpetrators themselves. Often, Cruor's targets merely vanish into thin air. Sometimes, they reappear elsewhere, often a great distance away.
"Cruor" has one purpose, and that is to reach their hand out to those with no one else to save them. The forgotten. These are the easiest individuals to take advantage of. Those for whom no one will come looking; those for whom there is no safety net. Because of the restrictive nature of the figure's circumstances, they often leave behind those who have the strength or resourcefulness to find their own way to survive. They cannot save everyone.Cruor is only one individual. Their connections are limited, and sometimes circumstance limits their ability to interfere.
PRESENT
when cruor acts...
No hope. Those who no longer have the strength to fight are those who Cruor often takes. It is the complacent and the hopeless who are sought, and who are saved. Those who have filed down their bite and given in entirely.
No safety net. Cruor prioritizes those with no friends or family that would search for them. If there is no one, however, then they are more likely to act. Jane Does who would not be identified if they were found are the figure's priority - and this lends itself to the debate as to how real Cruor can even be. They've not been said to take anyone that was wanted.
Nowhere to run. Cruor most often interferes with individuals for whom escape would be synonymous with pursuit. Those whose captors would not let them rest, were they to slip their bonds. Cruor assists with relocation and forging new identity. This means transporting those in need to safehouses far from where they've come from, connecting them with those who can provide work or housing, and helping to forge a new identity. If one's captors would persist even then, there are yet more thorough methods to hide someone available to Cruor.
No wings with which to fly. Cruor evaluates potential. If you were to be liberated, what would you do? Those for whom the answer is nothing are those who are taken. Those who, even with every opportunity and resource, would not - or could not - ever re-integrate into society.
Not too many eyes. Cruor is only one person. They cannot risk being overwhelmed, and choose instead to pick their battles. Those held in small encampments, households, a single individual, or who have been separated to pick off from the edges of a larger group are all valid targets.
ABSENT
and when they don't.
You still have your teeth. If you would take an opportunity given to escape - hoist a sword during a raid, or even tip over a candle in the dead of night - then Cruor is not likely to step in. Do you speak back to your masters? Spit venom in their direction? Do you dream in secret of the day that you'll see their blood spill? Cruor would not take you. Even if they wish they could.
Someone is looking for you. Do the Wailers know you're gone? The Yellowjackets? Your friends? Your family? Your work? If someone else would seek to find you, then Cruor will leave it in their hands. On occasion, Cruor will seek out said supports to leave an anonymous tip regarding someone's whereabouts and circumstances.
You aren't worth the trouble. If your bonds were cut, and you slipped into the night unseen and without chase, then Cruor would not save you. Perhaps they'd leave a door ajar for you to take the chance - but if your captors would not waste the time to recover lost assets, then they are far less likely to intervene.
You have a life to live. Cruor observes before they act. If they take you, then your life as you know it will end. The "you" as it was would disappear forever. Do you have dreams? Potential? Could you become something great, once you're free? They would not rob you of that chance. They are a kinder cage than the one you were found within, but a cage nonetheless.
Too much risk. While Cruor's magic gives them a distinct advantage, they are still only one individual, and still mortal. They cannot risk alerting organizations, compounds, militias, etc. Cruor is opportunistic. An ambush predator. If they cannot act quickly, quietly, and efficiently, they will not act at all.
THE AFTERMATH
what's left behind
Very few have ever seen Cruor - fewer, still, in the act. Those who have all fail to describe the same individual, time and time again. The only consistent feature of the aftermath of an attack by Cruor is the state that bodies are left in.Cruor's weapon of choice is their own blood. Overloaded with a toxic concentration of aether, it burns like strong acid. All they need is to get it inside of a target. Once it finds its way into an orifice or open wound, there's little that can be done to avoid death. It burns from the inside out, consuming the target's own flesh and blood, and melts away bone, muscle, sinew, and skin alike. The bodies left behind are often beyond recognition, and rarely remain in a single piece. Cruor rarely bothers with cleanup. Touching too much at the scene can leave a trail, and they know better than to contaminate.Attacks by Cruor, however, are few and far between. They have never left a witness alive, and they have never attacked in open view. Nearly every victim of the elusive figure has been found much later, often behind closed doors or hidden from view. It isn't unusual for months, or sometimes years, to pass between rumors of Cruor's handiwork recirculating.
TARGETS
who cruor attacks
Five or fewer. Cruor's animated blood can target several individuals at once, but it leaves them vulnerable while they command it. Five seems to be the upper limit of how many individuals Cruor will attack at once, though this number could change depending on the individuals within that group. If there is any risk of a witness escaping, Cruor remains inert, and observes.
Traders of flesh. Military commanders, law enforcement officers, politicians, pirates, bandits, poachers, merchants, and the like. Anyone with the influence to move bodies from A to B might be targeted. It depends on the scale and quantity of the work, and how deliberate their actions are.
Brokers without a code. Criminal liaisons have a choice of who to deal with. If their clientele happen to be too many of the above category, then Cruor may choose to sever the flow of intel, and leave multiple networks without an informant at once.
THE SPARED
and when they don't.
Large groups. Cruor spends days, weeks, or months assessing threat before an attack. If there is any risk of Cruor being overpowered, or of a witness escaping the attack, then Cruor will choose to remain an observer. They have the time to wait.
Generalized crime. Property damage, theft, extortion and blackmail, vandalism, market manipulation, war, political assassinations. This is just to name a few. Any crime that does not intentionally endanger and extort the vulnerable for prolonged periods of time and with clear intent is beyond Cruor's scope. Even if they do not stand for many of these, they are only one person. Their time and resources are limited. They cannot fix the world alone.
Sentimentality.On incredibly rare occasions, Cruor has spared those villains who could be reformed. They can count these names with only one hand.Associates of recent targets. Cruor intentionally spreads their attacks out over time, geographical locations, and affiliations. Moving from one criminal group directly to one of their affiliates is too easy to follow. There can never be a pattern left.
THE MASK REVEALED
cruor's network
Cruor is not known to work with others, but there have been rare exceptions. There are safehouses maintained by the Wyld, and by others that Cruor has come to work with over the course of their tenure in this role. At first, the man who took the title would leave the rescued at the doorsteps of those he believed to be safe. If those individuals continued the work, and helped place those he'd rescued, then they would find themselves approached by Cruor. After extensive assessment and evaluation, those who displayed exceptional discretion and could be trusted with his secret were allowed to see Cruor for what he was. Over time this network grew to a fair handful of individuals across the star, who build and maintain safehouses, and help with rehabilitation and reintegration.
HOOKS
This section details hooks that can be used to engage with the concept of Cruor, organized by what light these stories are told in. The tale is lesser-known, but sometimes traded among varied circles with broad and differing opinions regarding the myth. Most do not treat the stories with much legitimacy, but some degree of "what if" remains.
THE SURVIVOR'S PERSPECTIVE
the stories victims tell
Cruor's intervention comes to those who need it most. Widows and children left in the wake of war. Women trafficked by pirates and bandits. Debtors who would otherwise never escape their chains. Not every individual in dire straits gets a happy ending, of course. But for survivors huddled in dark ship holds and biding their time, it was kinder to trade comforts of "Cruor took them" than to speculate.
A missing friend. If your character has survived the experience of being trafficked, perhaps a friend made among other victims went missing, once. It was a comfort to think that Cruor took them. You haven't seen them since.
A savior you never saw. Perhaps once, you were freed by adventurers or mercenaries, or by the local guard. Perhaps you noticed that your saviors didn't seem to be the ones who took care of your captors.
A story to hold on to. You wanted for a savior, once. The day never came the way you wanted it to, but holding on to hope kept you sane. Maybe you woke each day praying to find a certain sigil carved into your chamber door. You never did.
WHAT CRIMINALS FEAR
the cautionary tales
A cautionary tale among criminals. Cruor targets those who deal in flesh, primarily. Traffickers, pirates, slavers, military officers, and criminal liaisons. Even dealing in information that furthers the trade is reason enough to target them. No one has ever seen Cruor, but the bodies left behind are hard to ignore.
A dead contact. Perhaps once - twice, at most - you've stumbled in on the aftermath. It's hard to forget the sight of a body half melted, burned away by acid.
A calling card. Maybe you used to work in less savory business. Maybe you saw the sigil, once. Whether or not you believed it was real, you weren't taking chances. You know better than to doubt a warning shot. Did you ever look back?
A cautionary tale. You never saw it with your own eyes, but your more seasoned contacts have spoken it to you. Maybe you've been cautioned to stay away from certain networks, in the past. One wrong step, and who knows. Your body might be found next.
A POLITICIAN'S HEADACHE
the complications of vigilantism
Cruor has never cared much for the consequence of their actions. So long as their targets fall, and the needy saved, the rest can be left to local governments. Fear stirred by vigilantism can be a headache to quell for local guards and politicians. Worse, if a public figure has suddenly turned up dead...
A complicated relation. While it's good to have the dirty work taken care of for you, gangs and networks often duck back underground after the vigilante's intervention. It makes them harder to track, at times. Perhaps you have an opinion on that.
Moral, but not legal. It's hard to try a folk figure in a court of law. There's obviously someone behind it, and this has some peers of yours frustrated at the lack of justice. What do legal systems exist for, if not to carry this out above-board? The tension there is hard to ignore.
THE STRATEGIST'S RIVAL
a necessary role
Cruor isn't the only one who seeks to do "humanitarian work". More than one guild has taken the time carefully planning a raid upon a bandit compound, only to arrive to the work already being done. Oops!
Beat you to it. Perhaps your company once planned to raid a den of pirates, thieves, and poachers, only to find that the work was already done. Perhaps your unseen ally left you a gift, as well. Cruor doesn't always take survivors with. It's not beyond belief that you've been left to do the work of relocation, once they've finished their part.
A healthy respect. Sometimes, in war, the logistics of the people left behind are too much to stop and consider. Maybe you've noticed before that the work is done without your intervention. Whoever is behind it, you've never been able to thank.
Left at your doorstep. Cruor can't personally take in all of them, but those they take have need of work and housing. Perhaps you've had one or two left at your door before. They never give you the details of who brought them, but it isn't hard to guess.
They belong where they are.
Nothing is wrong.
They're a passerby.
The supervisor.
They should be here.
NOTHING IS WRONG.
NOTHING IS WRONG.
THE WARD
guarded from perception
Cruor is protected by a cognitive distortion - a ward that twists perception and aligns Cruor's appearance with whatever the viewer expects them to be. When Lupault acted as Cruor, this was in effect at all times. However, Lupault did not have a personal identity outside of his work. Cruor's current inheritors must cover all identifying features to activate the ward's effects.Cruor is not invisible. Rather, they are fully perceivable as a body in the space. You know that there is someone standing there. The only trouble is...It does not matter where you see them - whether in broad daylight, in public, in a restricted area, in a private meeting room with someone you know would be alone. They appear to belong wherever they are. You assume that if they are present, then they must be there by intent. A feature of the environment. A passerby in the crowd, a maintenance worker, a merchant on the road, a silent bodyguard for your contact. Whatever makes the most sense to you given the context and circumstance.Not quite aetheric, but not dynamis either. The effect relies on "Cruor" being a concept, rather than an individual. For as long as Cruor has no identity, then they are whatever they are expected to be. However, this means that the ward itself is rather weak.As soon as Cruor gains attention, the illusion shatters. As a result, the majority of their work is done as a silent observer. Quiet, and waiting. Once awareness is gained of Cruor as a specific individual, the ward's magicks fall apart, and the viewer becomes aware of Cruor as a concept. This includes the awareness of previous crossings - whether that's only one, or somewhere in the realm of hundreds.Of course, some individuals are prone to paranoia. Some criminals and strategists are thorough, and leave no stone unturned. Those who are exceptionally on-edge and search for inconsistencies may find themselves second-guessing, the oppressive magic of the ward at odds with a more vigilant nature. The side effects of this can be extreme.Persistent, intense hallucinations and repetitive delusions.This can linger for days after exposure to the ward's magic, in more extreme cases, with the impression of being watched remaining even in the absence of Cruor's presence.
Everything is in place.
This is normal.
The janitor.
Security.
Don't pay attention.
NOTHING IS WRONG.
NOTHING IS WRONG.
EXTENDING THE WARD
how others accompany
The ward is able to extend its effects to one single individual at a time. Its effects become strengthened the more that individual resembles the varied depictions of Cruor; wearing masks, and with all skin covered. Occasionally, however, merely borrowing Cruor's scarf is enough to allow one individual to go unnoticed at their side, temporarily. The ward's extension only works in limited range around either Yora or Apollo, and does not function autonomously for those who do not bear their curse.
GAINED AWARENESS
once the ward is broken
Once the ward is broken, then Cruor can be perceived exactly as they are. However, depending on the individual, minor physical traits may be influenced such as their build, height, and the sound of their voice. Rather than who you expect to exist in the environment, however... instead, Cruor is perceived as whoever you believe suits the role you know them to fulfill. The individual biases of the beholder are projected onto Cruor, whether they exist within the environment, or whether they are fully perceived.
WEAPONIZED PERCEPTIONS
for those close to yora
Once someone knows that Yora and Apollo are the individuals behind the mask, the ward can be used against them by those with exceptional mental control. If someone expects something of the two of them, even outside of their role as Cruor, then the possibility exists of projecting it onto them. This includes visual and tactile illusions. For example, if someone swings a weapon at Yora and expects it to injure her, even if they miss, both Yora and the individual might see and feel the injury, even if there isn't actually one there. Skoll uses this to his advantage at times, weaponizing fear in order to trick others into perceiving him as inhabiting a body that matches the fear they feel. Most often, this is assuming a dravanian form. Regardless, it's all a trick of the mind, even if it feels very real.
MULTIPLE FACES
how more than one cruor exists
The ward preys on perception, expectation, and conceptualization. Once it is broken, it can never be re-instated for the individual. However, those who assume the title of "Cruor" have differing appearances in the field. Once someone gains an awareness of one Cruor, then the expectation becomes that Cruor will appear this way again in the future. If a different individual bearing the ward appears in their perception, the individual will be at the ward's whims once more until it is broken again. This may have limited effectiveness on those who are aware of Cruor as a single entity, however, after having broken the ward once already.
THE CURSE
the reason for cruor's existence. an accident.
Created shortly after the Sixth Umbral Calamity, the “curse” was never intended to be placed upon a mortal, living individual.The curse was intended to cause the body to perpetually draw in ambient aether, de-aspect it, and then release the newly de-aspected aether. After being afflicted with it, the vessels of the curse were intended to be sacrificed, their bodies discarded into the mountains. Instead, one survived.Created to cycle aether constantly, the curse borne by Cruor uses alchemy to imbue living matter with a highly volatile consumption effect. Dark aligned aether keeps the body in a constant state of cycle - however, its continued presence post-conversion is not required. In the moment of initial conversion, the curse aggressively consumes the victim's body, devouring flesh and blood and converting them into aether-resistant tissue. Once the vessel has been prepared, it will contain and circulate aether endlessly, becoming similar to a dragon’s eye in terms of tissue composition.Following the initial conversion, aether slowly seeps into the body from the brand that manifests where the initial potion was administered. The aetheric draw is passive, and extremely small, pulling enough aether to cast a minor spell into the body in a given day. That aether is then de-aspected and stored within the bloodstream. The continuous circulation within the bloodstream keeps it from burning the body of the host too severely.
AETHER BURN
Those afflicted with the curse bear an aether burn, which creeps out from their brand and turns their skin a dark, dusty charcoal shade. Over time, the skin thickens with an almost scale-like texture.
CONNECTION OVER DISTANCE
Those afflicted appear connected, owing to the Dravanian reagents involved in the creation of the curse, and are able to communicate via emotion over long distances. The cursed become sensitive to the roars of dragons, much like Dravanians.
EXTENDED LIFESPAN
Due to the constant passive influx of aether, the bearer’s lifespan is artificially lengthened to an indeterminate amount of time.
LIVING FOCUS
Indistinguishable from a wyrm's eye in composition, the body becomes a focus in and of itself. The host may direct spells cast into them back out in an augmented form, taking some of the body’s stockpile along with.
VIRAL TRANSMISSION
Exposure to the curse borne by Cruor has myriad negative effects, ranging from causing those nearby to fall ill, to transmitting the curse itself. The curse transmits through sustained blood to blood contact, as the host's blood attempts to consume other organic matter when uncontrolled.
PREVENTION OF SPELLCASTING
The constant passive influx of aether affects aether the bearer attempts to expend, making spellcasting impossible. While the host lives, the body refuses to relinquish its stored aether.
HINDERED HEALING
The cursed can enhance their own healing, not by aetheric means, but by consuming an amount of the body's stockpile to rapidly accelerate natural healing processes. This often leaves scars. Deeper damage can be repaired with concentrated effort, and the body’s chemical balances can be modified with significant inward effort and meditation. In exchange, however, the curse fully prevents its bearer from being healed by magical means. Attempts are absorbed by the body, and have no effect.
ACIDIC BLOOD
Over-saturation of aether eventually turns the body toxic. The potency of the acid is lowered with less aether, and heightened with greater quantities. The effects of this inherent toxicity range from infertility, to immunity to poisons and bolstered constitution, to rendering recreational drugs ineffective, to Cruor's signature acid blood. Those who bear the curse are physiologically identical, and cannot burn one another with their blood.
HEMOMANCY
With high enough aetheric density (several decades and upwards), the bearer of the curse can manipulate their own flesh and blood as if an extension of their body. They become somatic spellcasters. The potency of this skill weakens with lower aetheric density, and strengthens with more. This hemomancy can be imitative, and reflect the capabilities of many other schools of magic, such as igniting to simulate fire magic, hardening into crystals, forming into usable shapes and patterns such as weapons or tools of trade, or firing off not unlike bullets. This skill requires extensive training.While using this skill, the caster must maintain intense focus, or else lose control of their blood. Due to its acidic and hostile nature, Cruor's blood will attempt to consume any and all organic matter if control is lost.
EXPOSURE RISK
The curse borne by Cruor can "mark" an individual prior to creating permanent damage. Some of these can be done deliberately, but the majority are merely the natural consequence of being exposed to Cruor's hemomancy.
Lv OO. AMBIENT EXPOSURE
CAUSE // Caused by being in the immediate vicinity of Cruor's blood when fresh. Dried blood does not inflict this effect.
DURATION // Between 30 minutes and 2 hours, depending on the individual.
EFFECT // Nausea, dizziness, and migraine. Similar to normal aether sickness.
Lv O1. DIRECT EXPOSURE
CAUSE // Caused by skin contact under 10 seconds. No open wounds.
DURATION // Symptoms from 2 to 10 hours. Visual blemish up to 48 hours.
EFFECT // Nausea, dizziness, low fever, and migraine. Similar to normal aether sickness. Red skin and first degree burn.
Lv O2. BURNED
CAUSE // Caused by brief contact on skin (with no open wounds) and without entry into the body. 15-30 seconds of contact and/or entry into the body through a small wound (cut, papercut, dry cracked skin).
DURATION // Symptoms up to 24 hours. Burns up to a week. Permanent scar possible.
EFFECT // Nausea, dizziness, migraines, low fever. Increased aether sensitivity. Difficulty teleporting. Burst blood vessels. Burnt skin (first to second degree burns).
If the cursed blood enters a wound, the wound’s size expands as the acid eats into it, but exposure to air causes it to quickly evaporate and the burning to stop within ~10-20 seconds, if Cruor does not force it to continue.
Lv O3. TORN
CAUSE // Caused by more prolonged contact or contact with a higher quantity of Cruor’s blood. 30 seconds to 1 minute of contact and/or entry into the body through an orifice or injury.
DURATION // Symptoms for 2-5 days. Permanent visual effects and scarring.
EFFECT // Nausea, dizziness, migraines, low fever, minor auditory and visual hallucinations. Increased aether sensitivity. Burst blood vessels. Large acid burn wounds (second to third degree burns). Weak sensitivity to Cruor's feelings. Difficulty using magic or teleporting.
If the cursed blood enters a wound, the wound’s size expands as the acid eats into it, but exposure to air causes it to quickly evaporate and the burning to stop within ~10-20 seconds, if Cruor does not force it to continue.
Lv O4. MARKED
CAUSE // Caused by intentional prolonged contact or contact with a higher quantity of Cruor’s blood. 1 to 10 minutes of contact and/or entry into the body through an orifice or injury. Often intentional on Cruor’s part.
DURATION // Permanent change or death. Often grants Cruor the ability to control the individual.
EFFECT // Increased aether sensitivity. Eyes may change color (white, yellow, or red). Sensitivity to Cruor's feelings. Difficulty teleporting and/or using magic. Minor blood manipulation with significant practice and time. No acid blood. Potential limb loss and severe scarring.
If the cursed blood enters a wound, the wound’s size expands as the acid eats into it, but exposure to air causes it to evaporate and stop. At this level, the acid will continue to burn through flesh and enter the bloodstream. Cursed blood must be removed from the victim before they are fully cursed, or die from the strain.
Lv O5. CONSUMED
CAUSE // Intentional and prolonged contact Cruor's blood. Up to an hour of direct contact, in which Cruor's blood devours the victim's body and replaces their tissue with its own.
DURATION // Permanently cursed or deceased.
EFFECT // Bestows Cruor's curse upon an individual, if they survive the strain of being consumed. Grants all effects of the curse. High likelihood that the individual will die in the process. This level of exposure may also be used by Cruor as an intentional means of killing a target, melting through the majority of the body's vital systems and structures from the inside.
CONTROL
Cruor's curse consumes and converts organic matter, assimilating it into itself and granting its progenitors a level of control over whatever has been devoured. It functions in hierarchy; prior to Lupault's death, he had the ability to control Yora's body like a puppet - an extension of his own flesh and blood. Presently, Yora holds this power over Apollo, and over the few who have been marked.
BORROWED BODY
DURATION // Until Cruor's blood is removed from the body, the victim dies, or the consumed flesh is physically removed.
EFFECT // Using their cursed blood, Cruor consumes a portion of an individual’s flesh and blood. This allows Cruor to manipulate the victim's body as an extension of their own. Can range from a small effect to full-body physical puppetry. Most easily referenced from "bloodbending".
MUZZLED
DURATION // Until removed by Cruor.
EFFECT // Silences the victim based on conditions determined by Cruor. Attempts to speak about Cruor or dealings with them will be silenced - the victim becomes physically incapable of speaking or writing about the subject. Hands will not move, lips will shut, tongues will not move to form the words.
BLOOD PRICE
DURATION // Indefinite.
EFFECT // Causes painful physiological responses to defying an agreement made with Cruor. Minor pains result from attempting to go against the principle of Cruor’s work, whereas severe and disabling pain will result from persistent attempts to defy direct orders. This functions at distance and without the direct intervention or presence of Cruor.
UNDYING BOND
DURATION // Indefinite.
EFFECT // Cruor’s curse can mend bodies. It can heal injuries and manipulate flesh in ways that exceed traditional healing magicks, bordering on necromancy. Severed limbs may be mended, stopped hearts restarted, decayed flesh reconstructed cell by cell. A condition that signs over total physical control to Cruor and grants the individual some degree of permanent physical change, though performing this deed can come at great cost to Cruor.
ANAMNESIS
DURATION // Until removed by Cruor.
EFFECT // Apollo in particular bears the ability to alter or destroy memory. Using the curse, Apollo is capable of locking away memories. Depending on the intensity with which this is performed and the amount of time and effort put in by Apollo, Anamnesis may simply make memories inaccessible, may alter them to involve different scenarios or individuals, or may degrade them completely.
UNDYING BOND
DURATION // Indefinite.
EFFECT // Cruor’s curse can mend bodies. It can heal injuries and manipulate flesh in ways that exceed traditional healing magicks, bordering on necromancy. Severed limbs may be mended, stopped hearts restarted, decayed flesh reconstructed cell by cell. A condition that signs over total physical control to Cruor and grants the individual some degree of permanent physical change, though performing this deed can come at great cost to Cruor.
You wander through Ishgard, and your feet carry you to the Brume. You stop in front of a stranger sat on the side of the road, and look down. They're holding an empty cup out to solicit coins, with an impressive array of hand-painted rocks spread out in front of them. You aren't sure what possesses you to ask, but the words leave your mouth without thinking."Excuse me. Where can I cross the river?"
Oh, wow! Who told you the code words?
You wander through Ishgard, and your feet carry you to the Brume. You stop in front of a stranger sat on the side of the road, and look down. They're holding an empty cup out to solicit coins, with an impressive array of hand-painted rocks spread out in front of them. You aren't sure what possesses you to ask, but the words leave your mouth without thinking."Excuse me. Where can I cross the river?"
Oh, wow! Who told you the code words?
You're really gonna try to brute force it? Come ooooon. You're sooo boring. I don't like you already.
You wander through Ishgard, and your feet carry you to the Brume. You stop in front of a stranger sat on the side of the road, and look down. They're holding an empty cup out to solicit coins, with an impressive array of hand-painted rocks spread out in front of them. You aren't sure what possesses you to ask, but the words leave your mouth without thinking."Excuse me. Where can I cross the river?"
Do you just ask random questions to anybody? I'm obviously a merchant.
Don't you feel just a little bit bad about how that went the first time?
You wander through Ishgard, and your feet carry you to the Brume. You stop in front of a stranger sat on the side of the road, and look down. They're holding an empty cup out to solicit coins, with an impressive array of hand-painted rocks spread out in front of them. You're determined to get your answer by now. You open your mouth to speak, but the boy interrupts.
I'm not dumb, you know. I can see you coming back over and over.
You can find your way through this story, but it's not a real win. You faked it.
Even if you make it to the other side, it won't be real. You didn't earn it. I can't stop you, but won't it be hollow?
"Really? Nobody told you?" The boy questions, leaning forward quizzically. "Well, I guess nobody told you either that I'm a salesman. If you want me to answer your questions, then you should think about making a purchase!" He motioned toward the spread of stones before him, and waited, grinning. You suppose there's merit to the tales told on the road of buying something from a shop before you strike up conversation with its owner. But... twelve, how old even is this kid? And where are the price tags?
You'll have to buy something if you want somebody to tell you something.
You point to the painted rocks by his feet, and the scattered gil coins. He doesn't look like he's earned a lot, so you might as well, if you're going to ask questions. You ask, pointing at one of the pet stones. The boy shoots up to his feet, beaming as he scoops it up and pushes the thing into your hands. Is the paint still wet...?
Thank you so much, stranger! That'll be 5,000 gil!
You point to the painted rocks by his feet, and the scattered gil coins. He doesn't look like he's earned a lot, so you might as well, if you're going to ask questions. You ask, pointing at one of the pet stones. The boy shoots up to his feet, beaming as he scoops it up and pushes the thing into your hands. Is the paint still wet...?
Absolutely! That'll be 5,000 gil, please and thank you!
You give him his attitude right back, and he frowns, crossing his arms.
You're mean, aren't you?
The boy stands up the moment you speak the name Cruor. He gathers up his rocks and his coins, says a few words, and then turns on his heel to leave. You won't see him again for a few days, when he sets up his little shop again just down the way.
Hmm... Nope, never heard that name before! Sounds like somebody awful, though.
Ha, ha! You're not gonna get me like that, you dummy.
"This is starting to get silly," you tell the boy. You're not about to get frostbitten fingers for a kid who can't be older than... what, thirteen? He sighs, and slumps a little. A defeated admission, before he holds out a hand to guide you back to the Holy See proper.
I guess you can just buy me new gloves then. Come on!
If you don't have the patience to play with me, then you aren't worthy of finding out. So there!
You politely decline the request. You're not sure what you've gotten yourself into, or why this kid you don't know is leading you off into the Coerthan wilderness, but you aren't sure that it will end well. Too much risk involved. What if you get lost? What if someone comes looking for him, or for you? How long will you be out here for? It's just not something you can dedicate your time to right now, especially considering all of his silly demands so far...
Okay, I guess. I'll walk you back to the city then, if you don't wanna play.
You have to at least try to put up with me!
Your hands find a weapon instead of a snowball. You can only bear so much humiliation. You see red.Your last moments burn from the inside out.
Temper, temper!
Favors are probably better to offer, especially since you're not sure what kind of lesson it imparts on a kid his age to be spending a few thousand gil on a rock. Besides, you have the time to spare to lend him a hand, if he needs anything an adult could help with. The hyuran child thinks. Ponders. Considers. Then he nods.
I dropped a glove in the snow outside the city. Would you help me find it?
You hand over the gil to the young hyur in exchange for one painted pet rock of your choice. You're not sure what you're going to do with it, but you're sure that you'll find a spot somewhere.
Now that you've bought something, you can ask whatever you'd like!
You think about the offer, but you have other obligations. You aren't sure you have the time to be going on goose chases for a child. People are waiting for you at home. You bid the child farewell, and head on your way. You'll see him set up shop again a few days after, but he doesn't seem interested in small talk the next time you cross paths.
Good luck! Hope you find what you're looking for, then, stranger!
You follow the hyuran teenager through the winding city streets of Ishgard and out through the gates to the Coerthan Highlands. The cold bites at your fingers and nose, but the sun at least is high enough to warm you some. The child leads you around Falcon's Nest, having you lift up boxes and barrels, and checking in every corner for his lost glove. At least half a bell passes before he beckons you out into the snow, and points at a snowbank.
You know what to do.
You follow the hyuran teenager through the winding city streets of Ishgard and out through the gates to the Coerthan Highlands. The cold bites at your fingers and nose, but the sun at least is high enough to warm you some. The child leads you around Falcon's Nest, having you lift up boxes and barrels, and checking in every corner for his lost glove. At least half a bell passes before he beckons you out into the snow, and points at a snowbank.
I think I dropped it in there! Stick your hands into it to look!
You shove your hands into the snowbank to rummage around for the missing glove. You know by now that it isn't there. You're starting to get sick of this farce. Your fingers sting with the cold. You know what's coming. Just as you're starting to think of pulling your hands from the snowdrift, the kid jumps up behind you with a handful of snow. He yanks back your shirt collar and shoves the snow down the back of your shirt. It's cold and wet, and you almost fall over from the start. Before you can address him, the hyuran boy sprints off into the snow, away from the city. He looks over his shoulder, waiting for you to make your choice.
Aren't you embarrassed?
You shove your hands into the snowbank to rummage around for the missing glove, but you don't feel anything. You grope around in the snow until you can barely feel your fingers, but you don't manage to find it, no matter how hard you look. Just as you're starting to think of pulling back out, the kid jumps up behind you with a handful of snow. He yanks back your shirt collar and shoves the snow down the back of your shirt. It's cold and wet, and you almost fall over from the start. Before you can address him, the hyuran boy sprints off into the snow, away from the city. He looks over his shoulder, watching to see what you do.
Come on! Come get me back! Bet you can't!
"Wow, you're getting a little frustrated by now, aren't you? Too bad you have to do it all over again!" He laughs."Well, since you've been here for so long... I'm a warden. And you aren't the kind of person that deserves to know anything about the place I'm keeping safe. I'm doing my job just right, because if you would be mean to me, or if you can't be patient enough to sit through my games, or if you can't follow instructions, then you'll never be the right kind of person who should find out what I know! Not ever. Of course, you're probably going to keep trying this until you get through. It doesn't mean you're worthy, though. Don't forget that. Got it?"
Go on. Say the "right" answers instead of what you really would do.
The boy frowns slightly. "... I came from Gyr Abania actually. I was really little when Ala Mhigo got liberated, but my parents lived right where the front ended up. Sooo... they sent me away. I don't actually know if they're still alive any more. I haven't heard from them at all since then. That's part of why I'm trying to raise money! So I can buy a ticket to travel there someday, and see what it's like now..."
Sorry that was kind of sad... I didn't mean to bring the mood down.
You grab a handful of snow and run after the boy to lob it at him. He's quicker than he looks. You run after, throwing snowballs back and forth and sharing laughter until you can't any longer. You barely feel the cold. By the time you both tire, another bell - maybe two? - has passed. You both come to rest at a spring, now a great distance away from where you started. You stop and ask if he's alright, and if he needs to head back yet. You should get him back to Ishgard by dark, if you turn back now."You asked me where to cross a river, right? We're right here at the head of it, see!" He points at the spring, and the small waterfall running down the rocks nearby. "I bet I can answer your question. Hmm... but first..."
Stick your head under the water!
You stick your head under the running water. It's biting cold, and your guide almost falls over himself laughing at your reaction. You shiver, teeth chattering, but manage to give him a shaky thumbs up. He pulls his scarf off to wrap it around you, and takes you by the hand to lead you on from there. You walk, and you talk for hours still. You're sure he knows more than he lets on, by now. Occasionally, he stops to give you another command, like hopping on one foot over a snowbank, or licking an icicle. As the sun starts to sink lower over the Coerthan horizon and the day starts to come to an end, you start to crest a ridge.Your guide stops you and says to go no further. You stand between two stone pillars at the bottom of the hill. He hands you the scarf again, and tells you to tie it over your eyes. "Now shut your eyes, spin three times, and walk backwards towards me, ok?" He calls out. You hear his footsteps in the snow as he gets some distance, but you can't see him around the scarf.
Alright, go for it!
You do exactly as you're told. You close your eyes, spin three times, and then walk backwards through the two stone pillars. Your guide smiles as he takes the scarf from your eyes and wraps it back over his own shoulders. "Nice! Now come on - I'll introduce you to everybody. Here, this way." He beckons you over the ridge. When you crest the hill...
Welcome to the other side of the river.
You close your eyes, despite having the boy's scarf tied over them anyways.
Don't forget the next step.
You spin around three times in place.
Now follow my voice. Almost there!
"I'm Benjamin," he introduces himself with a nod, and a smile. "Benjamin McCarthy! Um, but that's not actually my last name. I'm from Ala Mhigo, but I don't really remember it. I've been here in Ishgard for... a really long time."You think it's only polite to introduce yourself in turn. He reaches out a hand to shake yours, happy with the exchange.
Um... can I ask a favor of you, actually? Since you're here...
You trust in the boy's scarf to keep you blind while you follow the next steps.
Now what?
"Only to little scam artists," you say, noting that his prices are far more than a rock could ever be worth, no matter how lovingly handpainted. He stands up with a huff, scowling at you furiously. "Yeah? Well, you're being a jerk to an orphan, so there! I'm trying to fundraise to go back to Ala Mhigo to see if my parents are dead or not! Do you feel sooo big and tough now? Do you!?"He stomps a foot on your toes, and storms off.
Meanie.
Before you go, you ask if he'll be ok on his own. After all, he looks pretty young, and a place like Ishgard isn't exactly kind to those in the Brume, age notwithstanding. The Coerthan wilds aren't a welcoming place for someone his age, either. He waves you off on your way regardless.
I have someone looking out for me. Thank you, stranger!
The boy runs and taunts you, but you think it might be a little bit mean to get into a snowball fight with a child. You would absolutely destroy him, even if he asked. So you chase, and you kick up snow at him instead. He ducks and weaves through frozen trees and around rime-covered stones in the Coerthan wilderness, leading you away from the Holy See. You lose track of how long you've been chasing after for, but by the time you look up, the sun has moved considerably. You come to rest beside a spring when both of you finally collapse with exhaustion, laughter echoed back off the snow.
That was fun! I have a little bit further to go, though, if that's ok.
You politely decline the boy's demand. The air is freezing cold, and you're not really keen on how that will feel once it starts to dry. You offer to chat with him instead while you wait at the spring. The two of you talk about nothing of importance, really. Just the scenery, and how pleasant the view of the mountains is from where you are. He tells you that he's on his way to those mountains.
You can walk with me if you want, but you can't follow me the whole way.
You decide to walk with him, and you talk for hours still. You're sure he knows more than he lets on, by now. Occasionally, he stops to give you another command, like hopping on one foot over a snowbank, or licking an icicle. You don't do all of them, of course, but you humor him as much as is reasonable. As the sun starts to sink lower over the Coerthan horizon and the day starts to come to an end, you start to crest a ridge. Your guide stops you and says to go no further.
Sorry, but after this point you won't be able to follow me. Thanks, though!
You can't get in if you don't play along with what I tell you to do!
You try to do exactly as you're told. You do your best to follow the instructions given to you, and meet the boy on the other side of the pillars. Your guide smiles as he takes the scarf from your eyes and wraps it back over his own shoulders. "Hm... Well, one way to find out if you did it right." He beckons you over the ridge. When you crest the hill...
Do you see it?
You got so close! Oh, well. That's ok! You were still really nice to me. Just not the right kind of nice.
"Who am I... really?" He laughs. "Well, since you were nice to me, I can say a little bit. I'm Ben! Benjamin McCarthy. I was born in Ala Mhigo, but... when the war took both my parents and I was too little to survive on my own, someone very kind was there to help. He told me when I got older that I didn't even cry, when he found me after our home all burned down. Nobody would have found me if he hadn't been there. So he brought me here instead. Now I'm one of the wardens here! It's a very important job. A little bit dangerous, but someone has to do it, right? And I'm the best warden out of them! Don't tell the other two, though!"
It was a long walk, but it was a nice one! Bye, stranger!
You got so close this time! Maybe someday you'll get it right.
You spin around where you stand. By the time you stop, you're not totally sure where you are, until you hear him call out to you.
Now follow my voice. Almost there!
IF YOU HAVE FOUND THIS PAGE, PLEASE REFRAIN FROM MENTIONING IT OR ITS CONTENTS WITHIN STRAY.
You stand at the top of the ridge, and see a large valley sprawling out before you. The hills are lined with cabins and footpaths, fields full with the harvest. Clear springs feed a lake in the center of it, and from where you stand, you can see the silhouettes of people down below. The boy takes your hand and leads you down the path towards it. "Come on! Let's get you somewhere warm to stay the night."
ATTFORD
What once was the homestead of the woodsman who saved Lupault, Attford sits in the mountains that rend the northern continent. It straddles Dravania and Coerthas, tucked away in the peaks between these two regions, and hidden by an ancient ward wrought by Dravanian magicks. Cruor has long since relied on the protection of the broods of Hraesvelgr and Ratatoskr, and the pact he held with their people. The magic that guards Attford is similar to that which sustains Cruor's ward. A manipulation of perception. Any who enter Attford without the guidance of its Wardens will find nothing but an empty valley. The homes that stand within appear as nothing but cliffs, stones, and snowdrifts. The fields appear untamed, the lake still. The hoarhound which guards the valley drives off hikers, and if they do not fear the beast, then the Dravanians which pass overhead do yet more to drive off curious souls.Three Wardens keep Attford safe, and the wards can only be broken with their guidance. Each step of the ward's unraveling was of the Wardens' creation - and with all three of them being children, the solutions can get quite unconventional. If anyone would harm the Wardens, or would otherwise be unable to tolerate them, then the way to Attford becomes closed. It takes several hours to make the journey beginning from the Brume. Those without the character to withstand the barrage of the Wardens' incessant bothering are met with nothing but an empty valley.Attford has a current population of three thousand, two hundred, and seventeen souls. Few are capable of self-defense. None of them may ever leave again.
RESIDENTS
who goes to attford
Those for whom nothing remains. Attford is a last resort. When every other possibility has been exhausted, and someone truly cannot re-integrate into society again, they are brought to Attford to live the rest of their days in peace. This includes the victims of traffickers whose reach is too broad to escape, or escapees of other institutions that would be hunted relentlessly, no matter the efforts made to hide them. One such resident is the former Remus nan Caesna, who would have surely been stitched back together from the brink of death, were the Empire to retrieve him after his defection. Cruor brought Remus back to health... despite Remus' attempts to end it regardless. She now lives a calmer, and more authentic life... at the cost of never being allowed to roam beyond Attford's wards.
VISITORS
who can leave attford
Cruor. Cruor often comes and goes, typically by necessity. They rarely socialize with the villagers.
The Wyld's Management. Not all of the Wyld's management knows about Attford. Some who know of the village don't know where it's located. Those who do help with maintaining the village - performing maintenance on its buildings and infrastructure, arranging materials to be delivered, and handling other logistics.
The Wardens. The three children who invent the village's wards are permitted to come and go freely. They spend considerable time in Ishgard proper, waiting to guide new additions to the village.
Select contractors. The majority of the contractors who help maintain Attford do not know its location. Most of them are only given nearby pick-up and drop-off locations for materials. However, a very small handful of tradesmen are trusted to know its location, and come and go freely to help maintain infrastucture.
You stand at the top of the ridge, and see a large valley sprawling out before you. Somewhere in the deep woods along the way, you swear you see the shadow of a beast, but the boy doesn't seem bothered. He gives another smile, and lets go of your hands. "It was nice to meet you! You were great to walk with, but I don't think you're the kind of person who should be here. You should probably go home before it gets too cold. Thanks for the company!"Before you can ask what he means, the hyuran boy turns away to skip down the path into the valley. A few paces from you, he vanishes altogether. Try as you might, even if you follow, you can't find a single sign of his existence - or any trace of man in the valley itself. The sun starts to set, and you start to get the feeling that the beast you saw before lurks in closer shadows, now. It might be for the best to depart, and to make haste.
... what was lupault like?
... he was never cruel, but he wasn't really alive.
An elezen man with tanned skin, long brown hair, and terribly maintained stubble. He was tall and slim; he didn't seem to eat much, apart from the minimum he had to. His right eye was missing, covered with loose bandages. The left glowed a bright red. His chest and arms were always wrapped in bandages, soaked through with dried blood. He'd reconstitute it to use as a weapon, when he needed it. His demeanor was... tired. Gentle, and not without empathy, but tired. He kept on because he had to. Someone had to. Towards the end, he had all but burned through his empathy. He was poor conversation, and poor comfort. Never cruel, but always distant.Lupault had no identity outside of his role as Cruor. He did not wear the mask that his successors have donned, for he was not a person who existed, and who could be identified. He had all but died, long ago. Long before he ever took up his mantle. If one were to search the annals of the Holy See's records, they would find letters from concerned families searching for their lost children. Twelve of these names match the records of the bodies later found in the Coerthan wilderness. The thirteenth,
