The Leaders and Apostates of the Lotus
The Lotus Clan’s masters are not generals, but sorcerers and heretics, each a twisted monarch over some forbidden aspect of reality. They are not bound by flesh, time, or reason, but by corruption the black pact of the Forbidden Path.
Zymeth — Lord of Storms and Decay
Zymeth, the ageless tyrant, has ruled the Lotus for as long as memory persists. Some whisper that he has lived for four generations of men, others that he has never lived at all that he is but the storm given flesh. He summons rains to nourish the fields, yet wields lightning as his true gospel, calling spears of heaven to shatter his foes.
No one knows how he has endured so long, but all agree it is bound to his pacts with the occult. He rose to supremacy by murdering rivals, casting down Sethess, the high priestess who would have been the rightful heir. His treachery is legend: deceiving the Serpent Clan’s Lord Oja into building ships meant for freedom, ships cursed to drain life until their crews were husks. From that betrayal, war was born, Wolf slaves revolted, and the isles drowned in blood.
Zymeth is a terror on the battlefield a figure who walks calmly amidst carnage, summoning storms from the heavens. Those who approach him with steel find only annihilation, as blasts of searing magic erupt from his hand. He favors stillness, conserving his breath until the skies split, lashing all who dare defy him. In union with his consort, Mistress Yvaine, he brings despair: she encases enemies in ice prisons, while his lightning rends them from above.
Soban — Master of Matter
Soban, Zymeth’s second, is the alchemist of torment a mad artificer, forever whispering to things only he can see. Once dismissed as a fool with trinkets, his genius has become monstrous: he breathes mockery into clay, raising golems of stone and sinew. They toil as slaves, explode as weapons, and are discarded as husks when spent. His obsession with form and substance has made him both indispensable and terrifying, a man who has long since lost sight of humanity.
Koril — Master of Space
From afar, Koril seems a radiant maiden, haloed by dancing lights but step closer, and the truth curdles. He is an ancient warlock, wizened and cruel, and those lights are not fairies, but the souls of the slain, tethered forever to his orbit. Koril bends space with a flick of his hand, vanishing from danger or appearing where none expect. Arrows twist away from him as though the world itself denies his death. Among the Lotus, he is both venerated and feared, for none can say where he walks when he slips beyond the fabric of sight.
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| Battle Realms Koril re-imagined AI |
Issyl — Master of Time
Issyl is a paradox of existence: an old man who grows young. His mastery of time’s unraveling has cursed him to walk backward through his own years. His face flickers between senility and youth, his voice at once cracked and childlike. None know whether he will one day vanish into nothing, or collapse into an infant corpse. Yet his dominion over time itself makes him indispensable, for to him seconds are clay, and eternity is a wound he can reopen
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| Issyl By Diwataero |
The Brothers Lythis, Sekh, and Tausil
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| Art by Kevin Edwards |
Beneath the rotting boughs of the Tree of Corruption dwell the Brothers Lythis, Sekh, and Tausil. Once guardians of life, they are now parasites of death. Each offers blessings to the faithful, yet each blessing is a curse, requiring the consumption of a negative orb. Their voices seep from crypts, whispering bargains to those who dare to listen. The Lotus do not revere them as gods, but as unholy patrons, feeding corruption into the veins of their disciples.
Mistress Yvaine — Bride of Ice and Chains
Yvaine is Zymeth’s consort and confidante a woman of ice, both in magic and in heart. She presides over the shale mines where Wolves once bled and starved, lashing them with cruelty, mocking their broken pride as “slaves” even in freedom.
She is clad in a gown of midnight, her back bristling with spider-like limbs of shadow. Her sorcery is frost itself: waves of cold that burrow into bone, shards of ice that pierce and then shatter into a thousand knives. She imprisons her prey in crystalline tombs, watching as they freeze alive before Zymeth’s lightning finishes the slaughter.
To her, life is a thing to be smothered in frost. Yet her ambition was her undoing: when she sought to defile the White Wolf Skull, she was consumed by its purity, annihilated by the very relic she thought to corrupt.
The Lotus leadership is a coven of monsters, each a master of a cosmic blasphemy storm, matter, space, time, frost, and corruption itself. They are less a council than a gathering of calamities, bound only by Zymeth’s storm-crowned will.
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