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>These wretched beasts are known only as "Communists"

>eclipses only happen when a god dies

Holy powers have almost entirely been snuffed out by the Black Sun. However, the Sole Cleric still fights on, destroying anything in his path. Some say the Abstracts have blessed him with all their remaining power before their death. Others say he is but a man...a very angry and strong man.

Communists (pronounced commune-ists) are in constant communion with the madness of the black sun, seeing beauty and perfection in the nihilistic reduction of all things to a perfectly equal state of absolute entropy.

Good save, user.

Plants can only be raised on corpses.

>No matter where you travel in this world, the sun always rests at dawn. Or dusk. Meanings such as east and west were forgotten long ago. There is only the road toward or away from desolation.

>One of the Dark Lords, a horrifying amalgamation of Rot Plant and human, has dedicated its rule to growing as many of these plants as possible.
>In an alien sense of compassion, it wants to feed the world the fruits of Black Sun, sending its crops across the tainted sea to its fellow Dark Lords.
>To get this much produce however, its entire lands are lined with innumerable corpses to tend the soil.

The black sun's rays penetrate only so deep; and in the dark places the flesh earth again gives way to dirt and stone, where the Dark Lords' reach is weak.

>Communists when encountered always have the sound of chattering laughter signifying their approach.
>Some say that this constant laughter is capable of driving one towards hopelse's insanity, their mind shattered by an alien will encroaching upon it.

So are dwarves one of the few untainted races in the setting?

We don't know if dwarves even exist yet in this setting. Or what's down there.Yet

fuck dwarves. fuck everything a basic fantasy would have.
>the nightcrawlers burrow deep, men shifted by the effects of the black sun. in the cavernous depths, the remainder of humanity lives in, the nightcrawlers are dangerous agents of the Black Sun, acting as scouts to find more sources of sustenance.

Only those who live in shadow escape the taint. Subterraneans. Settlements in mountainside shadows and valleys, huge canyons, and even a magnificent walled city that has to build a wall higher every year to stop the jealous sun's rise...

Leathers made from harvested world flesh can stem the twisting of one's flesh beneath the Black Sun, but even that has its limits without the aid of the Ethereal Arts.

The ethereal arts are seen as both a wonder and a horror. They are the lost legacy of the abstractions. Many see them as the cause of the Dawn of the Final Day.

Those who accept the Brands of the Dark Lords, signs of living under the lands of their dominion, find their flesh twisting in specific and limited mutations and may live with the shadow of life and sanity on the surface.

Deep below the ground, even farther than most men are willing to travel, some of the last remaining scholars, engineers, and magic users toil away in a desperate, last ditch effort to fight back against the black sun. Summoning the blazing hot magma of the planet's crust, they attempt to create an artificial sun to counteract the Dark Sun's powers. The implications of such a project, and the terrifying results it could create should it fail, are numerous. But still, they tinker away, hoping that even if darkness consumes all, a single bastion of light can remain.

There is said to be one final safe haven, a bastion hidden away from the Sun's influence and from the terrible creatures that wander the earth.

However, upon arriving...

The laughter is a memetic virus that implants itself in one's mind. It is often called "Com Chatter". Symptoms include laughing at inappropriate things, particularly gruesome carnage.

I don't follow.

The New Dawn is a myth, the travellers say, meant to lead the weak astray. They are just servants to another Dark Lord, no better than the rest. Even of they don't realize it.

We would like to open the door, get on the floor, and walk the dinosaur. But buildings are mostly abandoned ruins, and basic living requires so much energy that there is none left for dancing.

It is rumored that they have once succeeded, but their creation rebelled against them. No gentle light of day was this; but the crackling aurora of impossible radiations, a searing light that searches ceaselessly for something.
Now, somewhere deep within the earth, lost to man's gaze, the Dawn Machine ticks endlessly onwards towards it's unknowable end.

Life for the Branded is painful and arduous, toiling away following the whims of whatever their Dark Lord demands of them. However, in a world falling into complete chaos, it is the closet thing to safety and normalcy that they have. Some refuse to believe any of the lies the Dark Lords tell them, using their status as Branded as a means to an end, to make waiting out the end of all things slightly more tolerable. Others, though few in number are sane, truly believe that life will continue under the Black Sun, and only through complete allegiance can it be accomplished.

>THESUNTHESUNTHESUNTHESUNTHESUNTHESUNTHESUNTHESUNTHESUN

>Those who live beneath ground fear the dead water of the ocean. It eats at the ground below just as it eats away at the shore.
>In time, inevitably, even the planet's core will be consumed.

Branded individuals start their new lives as mutated slaves to their Dark Lords, with little freedom of their own. However, if a Dark Lord is pleased with one of their follower's actions, they will "bless" them with greater, more terrifying mutations, and rise them through the ranks of their legion. Some strive to achieve enough favor to become elite members of their Lord's inner sanctum, living in their monolithic palace, eating the "finest" food still left on the planet, and given enough reign and power of their own to fulfill their corrupted heart's desire. Still though, they will always know that they, along with ever other Branded, and even the Dark Lords themselves, are slaves to the greater power of the Black Sun.

>The Dawn Machine desires for all to 'love' it, to worship it, to cherish it above all others.
> Some think that this is its attempt to fill the empty void in its being with the unconditional 'love' and adoration of mortal beings.

Eight wise men, a world to save,
A brighter future their's to pave.
Glanced beyond abstractions' veil,
To carve out man's most glorious trail,
An eightfold path, an ancient wrath,
A doom unleashed with horrid laugh.
And so the sun did die that day,
eight lords dark and turned astray.

Good shit, user, I love me some lore poems.

>The ocean is so dangerous to sail across that not even the Dark Lords attempt to use boats when delivering resources to their fellow Lords.
>Instead, they use powerful magic users taught in the arts of darkness to control the very blackness that has tainted the water, and split the ocean in two, allowing comparatively safe travel from one landmass to another.
>Massive slave caravans, delivering backbreaking amounts of whatever needs to be delivered, then march with the dark magic user leading the way to their destination
>Many will still die from the violent waters falling from the walls, as if grasping at any life to snuff out.
>This practice is commonly referred to as "Parting the Black Sea."

>The first verse of the epic known by many as 'The World's End'.

'Neath ancient stone, and hallowed bone,
The first lord sits upon his throne,
Engraved are words of secret la told,
A tale of worldsoul bound and sold,

Beyond the sea, twist islands three,
Caldera spews forth black debris,
The shades of ash protect his reign,
The second rules by fire and pain.

The suns are screaming.

Oh boy, Lord Lore.

>The First Lord, still deep in its underground caverns, sitting on its throne, continues to mine out the very earth for whatever precious resources remain.
>Its branded work endlessly to expand its empire, dying as they mine and are trampled by their fellow slaves.
>However, some choose to serve the Lord willingly, knowing that since they will be underground, they will be away from the effects of the Black Sun compared to others serving different Lords
>It is also the father (mother? after turning Dark it is hard to tell what they really are anymore) of the Nightcrawlers, sending them deep into the mountains to hunt down anyone who dares try to hide from the Black Sun

>hurr durr rick and morty

So what I gather here is that eight wise men attempted to see through the veil created by the abstracts (gods) in the hopes of raising humanity to new heights. In doing so they unleashed the Black Sun, which destroyed the abstracts and now shines down upon the world.

It's light is causing mutation, the eight wise men were likely its first victims (they also probably got a dose way larger than what people would regularly receive). They conquered the world.

The water itself was stained black by the suns malicious rays and now dissolves whatever it touches, even dirt and rock. The available landmass is slowly shrinking. Eventually the dead water will consume the entire planet, entropy at its finest. Those in communion with the Black Sun find this idea comforting.

The Dawn Machine is an unknown factor. Maybe it'll be extinguished by the dead water, maybe it will push back. Either way it may be no better than the Black Sun itself, another apocalypse waiting to be unleashed.

The Black Sun screams black metal. The Dawn Machine does alt-electronic doomcore It's pretty underground

>The moon, for as little relief as it can give, has become an object of worship for some.
>They believe that one day the Black Sun will be destroyed, leaving only the moon to hang above in a perpetual night.
>This fascination with the moon and darkness leads many of these moon worshipers to confuse the effects of the Black Sun's for that of the moon's.

Yep. So far we've got some pretty neat stuff going on. Good general summary.

>However, many twisted horrors feel blinding pain when cut off from the corrupting rays of the black sun, causing them to fly into rages too grisly for those few left sane to face; spoiling even these few moments for some, should their masters not tear themselves limb from limb.

>In the end, should the Dawn machine successfully push back, the world will end up less than a third of its original size, the new continents becoming floating chunks of rock held in orbit around the Dawn Machine, and above it would be an "atmosphere" of the black ocean, blotting out the sky with its inky murk, but also keeping the Black Sun's deadly rays at bay. What is left of sentient life would be at the tender mercies of the Dawn Machine, and thus must walk the line between the eternal agony of inferno below, and the horrific madness of the sea and stars above.

Assuming, of course, the Dawn Machine has a chance at all.

Never watched an episode, was actually stealing it from Doctor Who.

>A sun that screams Black Sabbath's first album

I assume that while the Dawn Machine is still powerless compared to the Black Sun, each new person it takes over then dedicates themselves to the further building and improving it. So it could potentially fight back, but it would take a great deal of time that it may or may not have.

That was what I figured. I was just trying to picture what might be a possible ending scenario for a campaign in this setting.

So far we have a Plant Lord, a Mountain Lord, and a Fire/Volcano Lord. What other Dark Lords could there be, and what resources/specialties would they be masters of?

>either way it may be no better than the Black Sun itself, another apocalypse waiting to be unleashed

Easy with your words, lest the more fanatical members of the Morningstar cult hear anything spoken against the Dawn Machine. For is it not prophesied that one day it will rise up and defeat the Black Sun, scorching the tainted earth so that new life may rise?

For anyone interested in further dark lore or some inspiration (or perhaps to add to the thread i'm on) go ahead and check my keith thompson thread here:

Chitinous Vermin Lord?

Stars Lord, was an astrologer?

>There exists a sprawling city, ever growing wider.
>Within the tallest tower of the greatest fortress is a Dark Lord, the master of material manipulated, the Architect.

Ancient solar-powered machines have now gone "mad" as a result of their overexposure to the Black Sun's rays.

These machines, ranging from ordinary worker drones to massive war behemoths, are few and far between, but the influence of the Sun has twisted them into abominable biomechanical monstrosities.

Their victims are crushed into paste and fused to their metallic exteriors, or strung up on sets of spikes in a grotesque warning display.

>The Insects in shadow are dark and numerous, like sand they crawl upon the skin, leaving wounds that do not heal.

Fear not, brother. The Sequence accounts even for those who will not rise.

...

In the open waters of the blackened sea, there are waters yet; beneath the depth at which the sun once remembered could not pierce the brine still churns against the encroaching and reaching ichor from above.

Here the black is more active, alive as it reaches into the abyssal depths where life and nature yet find a way, and the gilled folk rally.

What would happen if the two suns shone their light upon one another? If the Dawn machine succeeds and makes its bubble within the black sea, could the sea be parted to allow the two suns to finally meet?

Would there be anyone under the morningstars light capable of parting the water, or would they all be slain by the artificial god?

>The Dawn Machine is not truly complete, its creators having left it unfinished before it broke free and fled deeper into the earth.
>As more and more souls and wills are bound to its will and embrace it and 'love' it, so too does it gain more fuel and power, growing and building itself up with each new convert.
>Perhaps one day, it may grow strong enough to oppose the Black Sun directly.

>What would happen if the two suns shone their light upon one another?

>Black Sun has won
>not Blue Sun

user, everyone knows that if you want to win, you use Blue Sun.

If the two suns meet it creates a singularity, either destroying this reality and creating an entirely new one, or giving birth to a new abstraction who has the properties of both the black sun and the dawn machine.

Or maybe both. Maybe this is the Morningstar that was prophesied, and with a gesture it obliterates the universe to create a new, clean reality.

>The Architect, as its name implies, designs and builds countless buildings for both its sprawling city, and for the projects requested by the other Dark Lords
>These buildings are strange and abnormal to any normal man, but to the Architect and its faithful branded, they are the pinnacle of form and function
>They are the most resistant to the acidic ocean, the most durable, and the most impenetrable.
>Day and night, the branded work to create more buildings, more homes, more structures and statues and anything else their Lord commands.
>When not working, the branded live in these buildings, and have formed a society almost comparable to an old world metropolis. Complete with an economy, law enforcement, and other such privileges
>The faithful believe that one day the planet will be covered in one connected city, the true vision of a Black Sun Society.

There is a Lord of the dark waters, but he spends most of his time away from his peers, toiling in his laboratory underneath the waves. The others have a special hatred for him because he could use his power at any time to part the waves for him, but he rarely deigns to even speak to them. What he makes, researches, develops down in the depths is his own shadowy business.

The sun is tied to a prophecy. A new race reborn in its ashes. That which does not live, yet does not die. Many do not know if this is figurative or literal, or who and where this prophecy first came from.

>The only truely sane man left is an old beggar, left with nothing but a small puppy to keep him company
>however, the begger already knows how he'll die
>he will be killed by the puppy once it becomes a full grown adult and will become the dark lord of all wolves
>the man abuses the puppy because of this
>this has caused the prophecy to fufill it's self, symbolizing the death of sanity and alluding to the truth that this madness was brought upon by the destructive ways of the old world

The gilled folk, trapped in their part of the waves and unable to leave normally due to the layer of deadly waters above them, have a particular hatred for the Black Sun's effects on their greater ecosystem, yet at the same time are now tied to the blackness that has come alive and corrupted them. Those who have not given in and been branded by the Lord of Dark Waters () use what brief moments they have when the waters are parted to leave the waves, and join the small resistances that fight against the Black Sun.

The potency of the oceans in irregular. At times it attacks the shores so fiercely that each wave leaves a billow of acrid smoke in its wake, while at others it is so placid as to permit swimming. Tides and waves seem to take the guidance of the winds and moon as mere suggestions, and change seemingly without reason, while currents defy all manner of physical law in their winding, circuitous courses.

Nights the sea-smoke is thick enough to form banks and roll ashore are considered ill-omened, and none will walk outdoors save the branded of the sea.

Son of a bitch.

goes into instead of the sun prophecy post.

This is a story that mothers teach their children born into the world of the Black Sun, a dark fairy tale to harden them and teach them lessons they will need to accept in these days.

"Who would lead your rabble, who would stand against we who serve the Eight?" the lord mayor bellowed over the cowed and prostrated crowd in the square below.

He frowned, for he had long ago forgotten how to smile. One figure stood, wrapped in layered leathers and shrouded in Ethereal Mists. These shifting mists moved, lived, and began condensing into a blade.

"The fog of war is no match for the mists of fate."

One would think that serving under the Plant Lord would be a blessing, compared to all the other lords focused on death and sorrow. However, this is far from the truth, as the Plant Lord is perhaps the most sadistic.

It sees those it brands as nothing more than fertilizer for its true children, the plants. It must feed the world, and to do that, the branded must be fed, made plump, and then placed in the earth to best be overtaken by plants and create more fruits for the hungry. It is a short and agonizing existence, with the few elite only kept alive for their ability to capture and plant more victims.

However, this is also the backstory for the dark lord of wolves
His eternal pack wonders the world punishing man for their sins, all those marked by the dark lord becomes a wolf themselves
This shows that even man's best friend has turned on them
You can trust
No
One

>Those rich and smart enough tried desperately to escape from the black sun's grasp while there was still hope. now, with their resources and the very air they breathe slowly dwindling, it is only a matter of time before the paranoia and the scars of the Dark Lords take their toll.

As of yet, no one has been able to slay a Dark Lord. Their strength is far greater than any army that could stand against them now, let alone a normal man. And even if a Dark Lord was in danger, other Lords would come in to protect their brother (well, those not plotting to overthrow them, at least). However, there is nothing to say that the Dark Lords cannot be killed, despite what their propaganda may suggest. No one knows what would happen if one of the Eight were slain, but the possibility is enough to fuel the few resistance groups that remain.

So the dark lords are
Dark lord of plants
Dark lord of the black waters
Dark lord of mountains
Dark lord of the city
Dark lord of wolves
Dark lord of fire
Dark lord of vermin
Dark lord of the stars
Is everyone fine with this?

One of the most common initial mutations to occur in humans exposed to the Black Sun, before physical twisting and mental breaking or communion, is the manifestation of strange psychic ability.

>"My Lord, I have seven letters from the seven other Lords."
>"Read them to me, assistant."
>"...they all just say 'Part the sea you fuck' over and over again."

The few surviving Blasphemous Clerics of the prior age have retreated into near permenant sleep, hoping to dream their way out of the nightmare of the waking world.
The strongest such dreamers are said to be able to take people into their dreams, though none are known to have returned, nor whether this is by choice or design.

>Few know how far the machination of The Architect goes
>His abilities seem to counter the holy entropy that shines down upon the world, with his ability to create things immune to the most horrible environments the Dark Sun has wrought
>This puzzles the other Dark Lords but they are always eager to trade for his builders craft, as they help to prolong their squabbles and games in a dying world
>The darkest secret, laying so deep in his heart that even the Dark Lord of a Thousand Eyes cannot, is the final machination of the Dark Architect. His labyrinths, metropolis, and fortresses are the purest form of worship to the Dark Sun, for how mighty is it that it will one day cast down the greatest of stones? For when the other Dark Lords and their pawns think that they will last a millennia hence, the artificial worlds will break in one joyous cataclysm as the world is finally snuffed out.

>The Dark Architect desires no reward for this, for being the crumbling cornerstone of all creation is its own reward.

>If the Dark Suns creation was ever tampered with to create this hellish apocalypse- There may have been one single traitor.

"In the grip of wild passion, the artisans crafted great works of stone and iron. Their splendid craft took the form of numerous massive heads, each modeled after that of leaders, legends, and heroes of times long past. However, under the shivering sunlight, stone features contorted and iron eyes shut as artificial mouths appeared everywhere and flapped without speaking. The craftsmen were repulsed and tried to destroy their creations, but they were rebuked with a fierce force that turned naked flesh into sand. Thus, the gibbering heads of the Crested Valley were born, closed eyes fixated on the vast Black star that hovers overhead."
-Excerpt from a hastily scribbled memory journal

>the Dark Lord of the Black Waters just chuckles and resumes playing black notes on The Organ of Storms

There was a man who cared not for the plight of the world. Who cared not for the blackened sun, its blackened rays, the blackened seas and skies. A brigand, approaching a venerable age. Served many bandit lords of many generations before this calamity. One has wondered how he survived his career choice, and one wonders still if he wanders.
There has been reports of a malignant creature wearing brigand armor, roaming the lands. It has killed many. It does not care what it kills. Could it be the same man? How could he be - the creature is as big as a bear, with many maws, surrounded by an evil mist. Yet underneath it all, there lies armor. Is this an experiment of one of the Dark Lords?

>many stories of him cleverly tricking the other lords when asking for passage are told by his followers
>he is sometime called the ferrieman of the blackwaters as he is known for extorting all those who wish for passage over the black waters

Wait, what the fuck?

can someone explain this to me

There once were eight bright nobles
Who summoned a Black Sun
And darkened days with shadowed rays
Transformed them one by one.

The First Lord looked upon his land and saw that it was scant
So a flower grew out from his throat, the Dark Lord of the Plant

The Second Lord's lands fell below, he lost his sons and daughters
So he sunk himself beneath the sea, the Dark Lord of Black Waters

The Third Lord cared not for the waves that darkened up his fountain
So he dug in deep, and forged his keep, the Dark Lord of The Mountain

The Fourth Lord saw these corrupt world and thought it very pretty
So he called his guild and began to build, the Dark Lord of The City

The Fifth Lord was quite pleased to see new prey on hunting ground
So he went on all fours and cried great roars, the Dark Lord of The Hound

The Six Lord worked day in and night, and knew he shant retire
Eager to turn through ash and burn, the Dark Lord of the Fire

The Seventh Lord with his greedy horde, refused to quit his squirmin
So rats ripped through his filthy skin, the Dark Lord of The Vermin

The Final Lord looked to the skies, saw Jupiter and Mars
As they fell to doom and darkened gloom, the Dark Lord of The Stars

There once were eight bright nobles
Who fell to darkness quick
So do not praise the Eight Dark Lords
Their tale should make you sick

>"My lord, they demand a response."
>*sigh* "Very well, have one of the gilled folk send up the Herald."
>two days later a massive waterspout, the likes of which is rarely seen, ravages the lands closest to the seas
>only the Lord of stars sees the intent behind the chaos
>from above it carves out "make me, assholes" into the earth

>and so they did
>It was one of the few, perhaps the only time all 7 other Dark Lords are known to have wholeheartedly worked together, beating one of their own to within an inch of his hateful life just to prove a point.

Isn't Black Sabbath, at least in its early days, relatively more tame than some current stuff?

Plus, if you want the really metal Sabbath stuff, you want the stuff from when Dio was the singer, like the album Dehumanizer, which idly enough the name and music of it seem pretty appropriate for the thread/setting

>Collaberative storytelling
Take it to >>/qst/