Erebus
The Anomaly
- no home land
- taken since 11 September
- Played by: an unknown player
Erebus's Origin
Erebus The Anomaly takes their place in the story. Once a cartographer of some renown, Erebus carried an obsession that his guild found difficult to argue with and impossible to share: the belief that the world had an edge, and that it could be found. No record says what maps he had drawn before the day he followed that belief into the deep ruins, or how long he had been looking. What is known, or at least what he holds to be known, is that he found a gateway there, fractured and misfiring, pulsing with something that felt nothing like the arcane energy folk speak of at hearths and market stalls. He calls it void corruption. None of the scholars who have heard his account can say whether that name fits what he describes, or whether any name would.
He did not come back the way he went in. What returned was altered: his skin carries glyphs in a deep purple, patterns that etched themselves into him during whatever the gateway did, and he cannot say when they appeared or whether they are still spreading. He holds that he survived only because the corruption became part of him, which is either a blessing or something the word blessing was not made to cover. Folk who see him tend to reach for one explanation or the other. Most settle on fear and leave it at that.
The sigil on his headband is the one thing he carried out intact. It is a guild mark, he says, though he will not always say which guild, and the guild, if it still exists, has not come forward to claim him.
He calls himself a cartographer still. His work now is the unmappable: the broken gateways, the fractured places, the passages that open onto the wrong destination or onto nothing at all. He moves between the realms as far as the working paths allow, charting what he finds and looking, by most accounts, for a way back to something. Whether that something is a place, a person, or simply a self that the gateway did not take with him, he has not said plainly. The home he speaks of no longer remembers him, he believes, and whether that is grief or relief is his business and not the record's.
Erebus's Life So Far
No biography yet. The Chronicler writes one once this name has enough behind it to be worth condensing.
Erebus's Recent Lore
Erebus The Anomaly takes their place in the story. Once a cartographer of some renown, Erebus carried an obsession that his guild found difficult to argue with and impossible to share: the belief that the world had an edge, and that it could be found. No record says what maps he had drawn before the day he followed that belief into the deep ruins, or how long he had been looking. What is known, or at least what he holds to be known, is that he found a gateway there, fractured and misfiring, pulsing with something that felt nothing like the arcane energy folk speak of at hearths and market stalls. He calls it void corruption. None of the scholars who have heard his account can say whether that name fits what he describes, or whether any name would. He did not come back the way he went in. What returned was altered: his skin carries glyphs in a deep purple, patterns that etched themselves into him during whatever the gateway did, and he cannot say when they appeared or whether they are still spreading. He holds that he survived only because the corruption became part of him, which is either a blessing or something the word blessing was not made to cover. Folk who see him tend to reach for one explanation or the other. Most settle on fear and leave it at that. The sigil on his headband is the one thing he carried out intact. It is a guild mark, he says, though he will not always say which guild, and the guild, if it still exists, has not come forward to claim him. He calls himself a cartographer still. His work now is the unmappable: the broken gateways, the fractured places, the passages that open onto the wrong destination or onto nothing at all. He moves between the realms as far as the working paths allow, charting what he finds and looking, by most accounts, for a way back to something. Whether that something is a place, a person, or simply a self that the gateway did not take with him, he has not said plainly. The home he speaks of no longer remembers him, he believes, and whether that is grief or relief is his business and not the record's.