❗ Some of the Rules and Guides, as of writing this 06/10/2025, are not final until this message is removed; they are subject to change.
“Sometimes, there’s worse fates than death.”
—A Tykonian Apothecary
Disease, as the Tykonian understands it, is a mysterious threat; unknowable and seditious. It is an invisible opponent who attacks from within, driving a medley of symptoms into its victims. In times past, there was no separation between diseases and afflictions—only now, with modern natural connections, has a divide been caused. In this respect, they’re perhaps even stranger, as the natural phenomenon which causes them is even less understood than the esoteric whims of magic.
Our best guess is the purity of the air: “bad air” brings foul diseases out and into the living. Though this is often believed, the inverse—surrounding oneself in “good air”—bids no guarantee of a healthy life. Indeed, while many pathogens target the weakest, youngest, and most downtrodden, they are in no way uniform in the victims they inflict; just as many noble lords have succumbed to them as the paupers on the street.
Remedies are few and far between, relying heavily on folkish stories and our very rudimentary knowledge of anatomy, and those that are effective are rarer still. Bloodletting, pure water, soups, or simply rest are among the most common treatments, each with varying degrees of success depending on the pathogen. Some offer no cure at all, and if found, are met only with the ultimatum of a swift release or agonizing end, lest it be allowed to propagate amongst the uninfected. Alas, there is no “cure-all” for these plights; only what we know of each may help stop them…
Throughout the ongoing siege of Larova, many horrors have been brought to light—but in the deepest bowels of the catacombs and the Painter's Pox-ridden hovels of the city’s slums, a new affliction has emerged. The Death-Touched, named after the original appearance of the Death-Touched Forster bannermen from the mist, are those unfortunate enough to have been scorned by the enigmatic Red Miasma. Neither living nor dead, these poor souls have been affected severely, whether by prolonged exposure to the choking red mist or their excessive ingestion of Carogna. Some firsthand accounts, most heard from refugees that embarked upon the treacherous pilgrimage to Larova, describe a lengthy and horrifying process, in which one’s mind, body, and indeed their very being are painfully stripped away. Friends and neighbors falling over feet that could no longer carry them, family members who could no longer recall the names of their loved ones, some electing to remain as they were, allowing the mist to consume them, and all they had ever known.
If any record of this affliction existed before the siege, it was likely burned away an age ago- and thus is considered a new phenomenon. As refugees continue to flood into the city, more and more of these wretches are unveiled—some still able to function fully, others missing appendages or entire limbs from the rot. There is no known cure, for how could one hope to stall the course of death itself?
Infection is not guaranteed and requires R/PTC to inflict.Gaunt faces peer out from the shadows and alleys of the city, cheeks pox-ridden and skin cracked, lined with flecks of deep crimson from under their skin. Flesh dulls to grey, veins turn to red, skin cracks and sloughs away to reveal sinew and bone. Food and drink lose all taste, and the beauty of the world loses its luster; indeed, even color seems to drain away from everything. The Death-Touched develop an overwhelming sense of anhedonia, preventing them from enjoying things they otherwise would have. Memories are slowly consigned to a forgotten corner of their conscience, and even images of home and loved ones fade away. Sleep and any form of rest is nigh impossible, as the curse keeps the afflicted awake, whispering sweet nothings in an attempt to coerce them into the mist- to assume their true form in death.
Some might consider these to be boons in such trying times, but they are gravely mistaken. These symptoms do not prolong their lifespan; they greatly shorten it. To be Death-Touched is to be marked by the Skull King, to be condemned to an untimely and painful demise. Those fortunate enough to retain their sanity are hounded, ostracized, and hunted by forces that would deem them “unholy” or “contagious”. There is no evidence that physical contact or other forms of transmission carry the curse from one host to another- so far, only direct exposure to the Red Miasma or long-term ingestion of Carogna* will result in an individual becoming Death-Touched. This does not stop such superstitions from building, however.
*You may create an existing character afflicted with the curse, gained by Miasma exposure or ingestion of Carogna.Undead of the Pale are not outwardly hostile to the Death-Touched—in fact, they see them as kin at first glance, as the curse that animates them is the very same that now torments the afflicted. This reconciliation is short-lived, however, as the undead try to force Death-Touched individuals into the Miasma, so their transformation can finally be completed*. There is no malice in this act; however, it is merely an attempt to make them whole, as the undead see fit. It is the choice of those afflicted to either succumb to the hands of the dead, drawing them in, or to resist with every fiber of their being still left.
*If captured by the Pale and PTK is not granted, they can be given the curse with PTC/RTC.The life of a Death-Touched is one of perpetual torment, existing in a state of unresolved death. Unlike the fully risen of the Pale, they remain anchored to living flesh while necrotic forces gnaw constantly at their body and minds. This creates a fractured psyche marked by intense emotional volatility, chronic pain, and a distorted perception of reality. Pain becomes overwhelming, both physical and spiritual. The body feels heavy and foreign, as though every movement drags against rot. Thoughts slow, memory fragments, and identity blur.
Many of the accursed feel a draw to the Pale, more so than the living. Their minds are berated by intrusive whispers, taking the form of loved ones or former comrades, coercing them to abandon everything and let the rot run its course. Their sense of self is unstable, and they struggle to distinguish their own thoughts from the echoes of the dead. Old habits, phrases, or instincts surface unbidden- a constant internal conflict between decay and life, fought in perpetuity. To combat this, many cling tightly to their routines and personal relationships, the last pieces of their lives that hold any value or meaning.
Despite this instability, the Death-Touched are not inherently cruel or malicious. In fact, many experience heightened empathy, acutely aware of suffering in others because it mirrors their own. Despite this, they are often shunned by the living, treated as if their affliction were contagious rather than a condition. This constant fear and avoidance isolates them socially, reinforcing their belief that they no longer belong amongst the living.
A pair of unfortunate souls, in the late stages of being Death-Touched.
Jaunts remains a mystery even among diseases, with few scholars agreeing on their core elements. Regardless of its origin, it manifests some of the cruelest symptoms of any known plight. Sporadically, a person may become afflicted by Jaunts with seemingly no cause, although it seems especially common in major cities and towns. The initial onset is typically preceded by a spreading warmth in the limbs and chest, followed by an increasing urge to move rhythmically. Once the dancing begins, the afflicted finds it extremely difficult to stop voluntarily. As dancing continues, many of those watching are compelled to join, but aside from this, no consistency remains in how the disease spreads.
If uninterrupted—by being restrained, getting struck, or thrown off balance—victims will dance far beyond safe physical limits, risking collapse, injury, or death from exhaustion. It should be noted that not everyone is ‘infected’ by Jaunts upon sighting*, as transmission is inconsistent. Physicians currently believe the disease spreads through a combination of emotions and close physical contact rather than simply through sight. Cures for jaunts have changed over time: physicians have found that removal from crowded places, rest, and hydration have produced the most reliable recovery outcomes. Earlier practices—such as trepanning, opening a hole in the skull to remove evil spirits—are now widely regarded by physicians as unnecessary and often harmful. The effectiveness of these treatments tends to vary for each patient; however, it’s proven that a jaunt victim can indeed recover.
Infection is not guaranteed and requires R/PTC to inflict.Painter's Pox, or Painter’s Plague, is understood to be an unnaturally aggressive mold infection, of which Kynd have few natural immunities to. How Painter’s Pox arrived in Tykonia is still poorly understood, as the chaos of The Conflagration has created gaps in the knowledge of contemporary research, but it is theorized that the plague is not native to the Tykon peninsula.
The spores land on the body through the air, germinating on the skin and inconspicuously growing through it until reaching the bloodstream. From there, it then spreads to target muscles beneath the skin. Slowly, the muscles are eaten away as the mold colonizes them, producing splotches of pigment beneath the skin in a wide variety of colors, giving the disease its namesake. This discoloration is often the first sign of infection, and grows freely across the body over time. As the disease progresses, motor functions of the affected muscles rapidly deteriorate. Weakness, locked muscles, and uncontrollable spasms are the most common symptoms. As the Pox takes root, victims will begin to cough up a sickly fluid; a mixture of phlegm, blood, and multicolored mold, akin to the water a painter cleanses their brushes in.
In the final stages, the victim will become almost entirely paralyzed as most of their muscles have been devoured from the inside. Blindness becomes common. Starved of its preferred breeding grounds, Painter’s Pox will at last target the organs. Death comes soon after, releasing untold thousands of spores from the corpse as the skin decays. Only by severe and costly quarantines concentrated within the ruins of the Great Library (what would become The Slums) and by a rare cooperation of every Great House in Larova was the city able to quite literally cauterize the spread of the infection.
Infection of Painter's Pox is considered R/PTC, though in modern times, the Plague is considered fully contained. Symptoms can appear 48 hours after infection, and if untreated, Death follows within 1-2 weeks.Rock Wrought is an uncommon, however dangerous, plight often found in the more humid areas of West Tykonia. Sufferers, who are known as "Wroughts", are characterized by the sudden onset of warts, calluses, and other abnormal skin growths. While natural formations of any of these structures are to be expected—particularly among the labor class—these are unique in that they progressively grow to cover the entire body. Worse still, as blood leaves these outcrops, they grow pale and gray, resembling pebbles or small stones on the victim’s skin. Despite this rocky exterior, they’re no more durable than normal people, with their ‘stones’ bursting as typical warts would when skewered open.
Exposure to the Wroughts’ humors (e.g., blood and bile) has been shown to cause infection in healthy persons*, and skin contact—while less effective—can also propagate it. For this reason, the Wroughts are kept away from the uninfected and often wear thick clothing to prevent accidental transmission. The time it takes for a Wrought to become fully engrossed by his stone-warts varies from six months to twelve years, always terminal; no cure or treatment exists to reverse or slow the progression of the illness once it has taken root. Late-stage Wroughts struggle with locomotion because the warts impede their joints and muscles, leaving many painfully bound to the most menial movements.
*Infection is not guaranteed and requires R/PTC to inflict.Starwitness is rare in the population but is most prevalent among nocturnal individuals. Its precise origin remains a subject of debate among scholars. In this, it’s perhaps the abundance of dead that are moved in the evening which brings the fester to bear. Those who contract this illness undergo a key physical change that gives the condition its name: the pupil's disfigurement into a five-point star. This structure gives the eye an added reflective quality, appearing ‘glinting’ under moonlight. A close analysis of the eye shows that it distorts light entering it, producing a kaleidoscopic effect on the victim’s vision.
Starwitnesses are often punctuated by hallucinations and atypical behaviors: euphoria, disrupted sleep cycles, and the uncontrolled desire to stare at the stars for extended periods of time. Periodic hallucinations are documented, particularly during late-stage progression. Infection from an existing Starwitness seems far less frequent than other plights—though their increased habit of sneezing may draw the infectious humors from them*. Culturally, certain Seva-adjacent traditions sometimes view them as moon-touched seers; their vision, though less effective at discerning physical details, is said to grant them the gift of prophecy, allowing many to become estranged oracles of the moon-led faithful. No cure exists. Treatment is largely supportive, focusing on rest and eye care.
*Infection is not guaranteed and requires R/PTC to inflict.