Pontos Build Guide — Morimens

Seek you a feast, a hunt, or sanctuary? Pray to me—the primeval ocean will speak my name. I am Pontos, Lord of the Great Abyss.

Smart move, kid. The followers of that foreign monster are thick enough to always toss corpses into the sea. That's not an offering. That's littering.

Let's hope these little things don't eat you out of house and home. You know, feeding a large family is no easy feat.

Uh, not that I did that, but if you ever hear the sound of seawater and the rustle of wings inside your head—don't worry about it. It's perfectly normal.

In Ebwynnos, the revelry never ends. And Ebwynnos's enemies will never know rest.

Skin, muscle, nerve, bone—my whole body is being reconstructed. I feel whole and vital again.

Spirituality gives rise to a new body, which is then filled with a trivial mind. Then those particularlt bright and lively ones will be gathered in one place, forever. Remember what I told you? The deepest part of the ocean holds everything... and keeps everything there.

Ah, I understand that shudder. But it's entirely unnecessary, my young friend. Accept your fear of mediocrity, of being slowly worn down. Look at me. You know you always have another choice.

Aging is the only adventure you must face alone. It's your best friend, and your most troublesome foe. But the lights of Ebwynnos will drive it all away... you don't need to be shackled by such worthless memories.

Such a pity. When you change your mind, you know where to find me.

Those slimy fish-people are no friends of mine. They're my enemies. Surprised? The ocean never belonged to them anyway.

Long, long before the land rose from the sea, certain presences stirred within this planet. They're mighty, sovereign, unfathomable. Neither malice nor mercy could define Them. Humans, like countless creatures that came before, meant nothing to Them. You could be swept away like dust, or protected as part of their territory.

Prayer works. Think of it this way: If ants arranged themselves into Leonian characters at your feet, you'd at least pause to consider what they wanted.

As for the one who chose me... let's just say He's generous and rotten in equal measure. Where you land is entirely a matter of whim. You will be pulled from danger, that much is certain. Whether you land in another danger entirely—well, that's hardly the concern of that particular "journey." How delightful. How unpredictable. I'm considering keeping up the tradition.

Hahahaha—alright, alright, don't look at me like that, kid. Just some traditions what you call the Elder Gods tend to follow. As for you—no price, no conditions. I'm always on your side.

Heh... Missing your time in Ebwynnos? It's right here, in my body. You're welcome to come back anytime.

Erasing memory. Erasing existence. Familiar, isn't it? You know what I mean. Different origins—and yet They always breed in the dark.

I like spirited young people. Shame Mythag keeps such a stranglehold on entertainment—not even a decent hunting ground to speak of. And worse still, that filthy thing is strutting around in broad daylight, even daring to wear the title—professor.

I hate to admit it, but once in a rare while, I find myself thinking that aging isn't just something time does to you. It's merely a symbol. So I allow it to leave a mark on me. Only in appearance, of course.

Yes, I know that disaster wasn't his direct order; it was merely an accident while he was out having fun. But that only makes me want to kill him more. That black mist... He'd better not wander off alone—and he'd better never fall into my hands.

Everything I've done for you, and you won't even call me Uncle again. Aww, you're giving me a headache, little one.

Hmph. A little monster cozying up to that foreign monster. And some fools actually put us on the same altar? What an insult!

The enemy of my enemy is my friend. Given the chance, I wouldn't mind stealing my oldest enemy's favourite plaything right from under his nose.

There's a particular bond between Ebwynnos and me. Put it this way—I am Ebwynnos. It persists through me, sustained by this body.

Ready, little preys?

Fools. To even dare encroach upon me...

No rush. The darkness of the abyss will swallow you whole.

Hah!

Night-Gaunt, stop them!

Pathetic.

Guh!

Dammit...

Let go of that fantasy of escape.

You've already been marked.

Kneel. Become nourishment for Ebwynnos.

Surrender your senses. Reflect in the abyss forever!

Chin up. Show me your throat.

Forever you shall stay!

I will grind you into pale dust.

Before the ocean, no foe is unconquerable!

Yes. And for the cultists, I'm happy to get creative with the interrogation.

Don't worry. I'll make sure you all beg for death.

...I think we have very different ideas about what torture is for.

Well... Guess the deep blue still breeds a pure soul from time to time.

A pity, but I believe Ebwynnos is neither in need of, nor lacking in, faith at present.