The Undertaker of Progeny - Revision history

Domino.Franizzi at 21:20, 7 December 2025

2025-12-07T21:20:48Z

Domino.Franizzi at 13:09, 7 December 2025

2025-12-07T13:09:57Z

Domino.Franizzi: Created page with "'''The Undertaker of Progeny ''' Role Description (in the true spirit of the System) The Undertaker is the quiet, black-veiled archivist of Progeny’s dead and departed. T..."

2025-12-07T13:09:32Z

Created page with "'''The Undertaker of Progeny ''' Role Description (in the true spirit of the System) The Undertaker is the quiet, black-veiled archivist of Progeny’s dead and departed. T..."

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'''The Undertaker of Progeny
'''

Role Description (in the true spirit of the System)

The Undertaker is the quiet, black-veiled archivist of Progeny’s dead and departed. They are the last rite and the final witness.
Where Lycans howl and clans war in neon-lit havens, the Undertaker stands motionless in the crypt-cold silence of Grave Designs Castle, tending a single, ancient ORB that functions as both mailbox and mausoleum gate.

Their solemn duties are these:

'''1. Keeper of the ORB'''
A solitary iron-and-bone orb floats beside the castle’s crypt. It accepts only one form of offering: a properly filled memorial notecard. No blood tithe, no soul stake; just a name, a story, and a request.

'''2. Reader of Last Words'''
When a notecard drops into the ORB’s hungry mouth, the Undertaker is summoned. They read every line in private, weighing the worth of the fallen: Sire, childe, ally, or even enemy. All are equal in the candle’s flicker.

'''3. Lighter of the Eternal Flame'''
From the castle’s endless vault of candles, the Undertaker selects one (plain white for the nameless, crimson glass for the legendary). They light it with a match struck on the lid of a coffin.
If an epitaph was requested and deemed fitting, the words are carved into the air above the flame itself, glowing like hot iron for as long as the grid remembers.

'''4. Herald of Remembrance'''
A single, soft IM is sent back to the mourner:
“The candle is lit. They are not forgotten.”
Nothing more. The Undertaker does not console. They simply confirm that death, even in Second Life, has been properly noted.

'''5. Guardian of the Epitaph Flame'''
Any soul may approach the burning candle. One click on the living flame, and the epitaph (if one exists) unfolds before the eyes like a scroll of smoke. Some are tender. Some are vicious. All are permanent.

They wear funeral black, pallid skin, and eyes that have seen too many names fade from the Family Tree. They do not judge who deserves memory; they only ensure that memory, once requested, is never erased. In a world of eternal rebirth, the Undertaker is the one role that treats death as if it still matters. They are grief made manifest.
They are the System’s memory when all other memory fails.
Light a candle.
The Undertaker is already watching.

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	Light a candle.		Light a candle.
	The Undertaker is already watching.		The Undertaker is already watching.
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		+	'''How to Summon the Undertaker and Light an Eternal Candle''' (A ritual for the blood-bound only)
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		+	Enter the crypt:
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		+	http://maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Grave%20Designs/111/192/77
		+
		+	Kneel before the black ORB that floats in the shadows.
		+
		+	It hungers for names.
		+
		+	Touch the ORB with intent.
		+
		+	A blood-stained notecard will bleed into your inventory.
		+
		+	Open it. Write the name of the fallen in crimson truth.
		+
		+	Add dates of service, your own name, and—if you dare—an epitaph that will burn forever.
		+
		+	Rename the notecard exactly as the ritual demands (the instructions are carved inside).
		+
		+
		+	Return to the ORB.
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		+	Drag the completed notecard from your inventory and feed it to the iron mouth.
		+
		+	The Undertaker is already watching.
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		+	When the candle awakens, a single IM will slither into your veins like ice:“ Your offering is accepted.
		+
		+	The flame remembers.
		+
		+	” From that moment, any child of the night may approach the fire and press their hand to the living flame.
		+
		+	The epitaph you bled into the notecard will rise before their eyes, burning forever.
		+
		+	Say nothing more.
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		+	The grave does not gossip.
		+
		+	It only keeps.

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