[Genesis Scrolls Round 1: {Compendium of Chad - Chapter One}

Genesis Scrolls Round 1: {The Ancient Lost Order of Chad}

Hi Lootverse,

The Encyclopedia entries are being re-submitted due to a minor bug on Loot.Talk as Request for Feedback subs were un-editable.

Not sure where to put the logo, ideally either first or last is what comes up for sharing on socials, but this will be the test haha.

All art is AI only because I cannot draw to save my life.
I can, fortunately, yell at a computer via text for days though.

Feedback, good or bad, is always appreciated. Although, if you are gonna be a dick at least be funny.

Rating = 18+ and NSFW

Trigger Warnings

Gore, Profanity, Bad Puns, Sex Scenes, Disturbing Themes, Toilet Humor, Extreme Violence, Torture, Etc.

Entry One

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The Compendium Of Chad

Chapter One
Origins & Ends:
The Journals of Jaynee

"It was as if the entirety of my being was torn into infinite pieces and hurled through a vortex of incomprehensible colors and sounds.

We saw predacious monstrous squid-shaped horrors the size of planets, plucking out morsels in the many directions of time and space that we were flowing in. We could discern no bearing of up or down or back or forward in the Passage whilst contained in our heavily warded and shielded bubble.

I would rather forget, but duty insists that one of us must remember, and so one does and records it as I do here.

The threat of the Undead Empire is one that I hope to never see in my lifetime, but also one that I strive to keep at the forefront of Order and Sect politics.

Preparing for the enemy is never time wasted.

My brothers and sisters had their minds wiped of the events of that day; to be able to function without trauma and at total capacity in an entirely new world. I chose to be the memory keeper, as I was closest to the threat and could tell it firsthand to both our own and whatever we might encounter, be they a being of reason and compassion.

We were in shock before we entered and after, well, not all of us made it intact. Try as we might, what chaos had been inflicted on those on the outer skirts of the bubble could not be undone.

Death was mercy at that point and a sad, cruel one for those having to serve it up. Having just lost our friends, family, home…our whole planet, putting down our peers was a brutal reality of a malevolent universe.
That isn’t important to this tale, and it was a time my heart aches to forget.

Months before the fall of the Palace, the Emperor had commanded that One Thousand Divine-Tier Bags of Holding must be created at a bare minimum and Eight Thousand at maximum.

The bare minimum of the Mandate was an outrageously expensive undertaking during an unprecedented crisis. The Undead was no longer a nuisance to be dispatched of in crypts or caverns when seen but a legitimate threat to the entire living populace of Plouton.

Soul fragments, mana crystals, strings of memories, Ancient Banners, mysterious Gems, and assorted Items of Greatness had been placed in the Bags. They were offered into the Portal before the ritual was completed.

I can only guess, but I believe that they were to be our foundation in a new world and offerings to distract the leviathans feeding off the Portal.

When we were finally deposited in a heap in a wild grassland of beasts we had never seen the likes of, it took hours to regain order and a semblance of dignity from the shreds of an EMPIRE, lost in days…

Every beast of Plouton had long been cataloged. To see new beasts? It could only be a different universe or planet. A stark contrast to the lifeless plains we had left behind.

In the frozen and sparsely inhabited Northern Ice Plains of the World of Plouton, a Portal of immense size had been created and left open to fester like an infected wound. It was a veil of Darkness through which sunlight itself would fail to reach the ground.

The Miasma, or μίασμα as it was known by the Undead Empire, seeped through the ice and snow for decades unknown. Its location was no coincidence, as the Northern Plains were many days travel by sled wide, and one would only find its location if sought after, and even then, if with some hint or clue.

The diseased land spread like mold on bread, devouring anything living over time and turning it into a dark, undead caricature of its former living self.

The Northern Plains Tundra Wolves House, more of a band of clans than any good orderly house, was the first to send word of an unstoppable plague that killed mortals upon touch and would stain an Adventurers soul.

This was a severe threat, one that court mages were sent to investigate in haste and return with their findings.

A team of four Warriors, one Adventurer, three Court Mages, and one Divine Mage of the Brotherhood of Chad were assembled. There existed only a few thousand Divine Chads at any time in the world, and the limits of their power went from breathtaking to brain-melting.

Still, the Emperor himself sent out for aid, and the Divine Mage Chad Wenowan answered.

Yes, THE Wenowan. The Senior Bros of the Orders were rarely called on a scouting mission. And Wenowan was no mere Senior Bro. He was and is a legend, his deeds having survived the death of a planet.

When the Emperor asks, Demi-Gods and Heroes are the ones to answer I guess.

For as Divine as he claims not to be, the Emperor indeed commands the will of the Divine in ways not possible for mere mortals. In turn, however, his duty to mortals can be misinterpreted, as his command over Life is paralleled by the flood of death he must experience to foresee the fates.

Divine Mage Wenowan on the Hunt after arriving at the Outpost

The Chad of Immense Power just happened to be a Divine, a Brotherhood patron saint. He may follow Orders and paths of his own choosing, yet still, his past actions alone provide him honorary admittance to the Sunday Isles of Stacy, a dimension of never-ending merriment, where glorious battle and delicious feasts go hand in hand.

One short briefing later, after equipping for anything up to a Dragon, a Portal was opened to the Tundra Wolves Arctic Outpost. Not much was expected in the way of backup, but to find total devastation was unnerving.

The only one left to tell the tale and provide insight was my lonesome self, and in that, by the Sixteen, I swear that one moment later and my life would also be lost.

I was the primary Scout Hunter of the team and had been overwatch when the patrol encountered a Horde of Undead. Not just any Horde, but one controlled by an Undead Arch-Mage.

An Undead horde alone is dangerous and has been known to occur when a crypt or cavern core has been disturbed or broken.

When an undead breakout had occurred over the centuries, the typical precedent set was to attack a few villages mindlessly and aimlessly, without any rationale or logic. The village chief or scout or Hunter would get the message to the closest Brotherhood Chapter, and a few Disciple bruhs would be sent to both deal with them and hone their skills.

With an intelligent being mind-controlling a Horde, to act as one army?

And decades to establish its influence?

Our hubris in believing the threat contained was our undoing.

An intelligent undead is a force multiplier proportional to the mental capacity and mana of the Undead mage, for it is their commands that compel them.

An Arch-Necromancer may summon many Undead mages and, in doing so, control more Hordes. But, any momentary lapse in control can be swiftly consumed by their own creations.

The leading theory was that a Higher Undead within the Hierarchy of the Undead Empire had made its way through the open Portal once the Miasma was dense enough to support it.

Most concerningly, it was a Portal that could only have been summoned by a Pentateuch of Arch-Necromancers, or the will of a Divine. During the mad frenzy to Portal to a safer locale, a cultist or even Necromancer could easily have stowed away in our shielded ‘boat’ through…whatever that was.

As no Divine Mages had defected to the Darkness in centuries, it was assumed to be failed disciples, eeking out their own path to the heavens. Whether or not they intended the globe encompassing disaster that unfolded will never be known, no claim has ever been made since we arrived here by various illegally practicing Necromancers, aiming to increase their villainy and reputation, at least none that are verifiable.

All attempts to Portal back to Plouton and establish a hold to take back the world have failed in increasingly worse fashions.

The Divine Mage Wenowon had managed to teleport me back to a hamlet close to the Palace, somehow completing the ritual even while Undead tore at his flesh with gaping mouths of shark-like teeth. Tears and tragedy were all that awaited our ill-fated team, from the moment we entered that Portal.

Jaynee’s Hunters Eye Perk could make out Wenowan, and sadly, the horrific carnage of defeated foes he stood upon to make his sacrifice to save me…

This one last defiant act of Chadness is often said to be the defining point that saved our Order from complete extinction. The early warning my team was able to bring to the Empire was the impetus for His Majesty, bringing out the Dawn Bite Warhammer of Titans, Greatness.

A weapon not seen in centuries, an item of incredible power and unfathomable destruction in the hands of a skilled Warrior.

From the deep vaults of the Divine Amory depths, it was brought and blessed, polished with significant spikes, to its full glory, as a signifier of the gravity of the threat. And a threat it was, for though the mission goals were partially met, the price for that information was high. In what battle and where the Emperor fights now, I know not, all I can tell of is my truth. And a depressing truth it is.

The two leading Warriors of the scouting party were the first to die; the rocky terrain and mountains had given the team a scant moment of warning.

Too short a time to teleport them back, but too long to cut a path through the Undead Horde swiftly surrounding them.

By the time the rest of the party could fight their way through, The Warriors had been overwhelmed by the assorted skeletons, zombies, plague bearers, and horrific homunculus comprised of many corpses.

Their wounds were terrible, yet they fought on, in a frenzied state, missing a limb here or eye there. A whirlwind of blades awaited the approaching waves of death. Still, that whirlwind could not compete with the cyclone of chaos and writhing bone spikes created by the Hordes of Undead.

In varying states of decay, corpses, skeletons, both human and beast, in the thousands blackened the earth wherever they tread, spreading foul pollution. It was a lost cause if ever I saw one.

Worse than that were the many creations of the Pentateuch, horrific monsters of rotten flesh and sharpened bone.

The mages erected a series of interlaced barrier when it was clear the situation was beyond all hope. I saw them and the Warriors pulling out items from Bags of Holding and activating them.

With my Hunters Eye, I could see clear enough it had turned into a Final Stand situation.

Potions that were lethal to the user and spells that fractured a being’s mana circuits without any means to repair, a means to only one end.

Death and Destruction.

No holds barred.

A glorious death over any misguided attempt at escape.

The Order of Chad Divine Mage Wenowon had started chanting in a language unknown to me and weaving a complicated spell, which turned out to be my salvation.

The Warriors had formed a protective shield wall around him. The other mages erected shields and magic barriers against skeletal archers, foul ravens of ink and shadow. Worse still were the putrid, vile acid volleyed by slug-like creatures of siege weapon approximations.

No matter how many arrows I put in them, there were just too many. An ocean of death against a small team, hell, for a small army.

Before my extremely tumultuous journey through the Passage, that Wenowan had basically thrown me through, at speeds exceeding the arrows already blackening the skies of my position.

I could see little more of the remainder of the battle, but all attempts to trace a survivor have come up short. The rest of the team was expected to have succumbed to the plague or the Undead.

They were post-humorously awarded the Order of Chad Pink Heart. I will never forget the bravery of those who laid down their lives without pause to ensure mine and the Empire’s safety. Their Honor and Virtue are without question.

No one knew why; no one understood the reasoning during those two months…but to question the will of the Emperor’s Mandate?

Heresy. "

  • The Journals of Adventurer Jaynee

End Chapter One

Compendium of Chad