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A GUIDE TO CORRUPT SIGILS
There is much to be done in our quest to understand the arcane forces which weave the fabric of our reality.
Those loose ends at the end of the tapestry, those basic runes are merely symbols to communicate only the most basic of concepts.
Leonard, bless his old heart, has attempted to tell stories out of simple stitches. His library is of little consequence. Pictures without color. Incantations without words. Symbols with the richer narrative stripped away. While lesser minds may be too fearful to read past the page of fangless, purely academic records (and even fewer too fearful to tell the full tale) the reality is undeniably thus: There is old magic in these sigils, and that story is so often found in the darkest of places.
Corruption. Danger. Chaos. The spoken word of authors who've been hidden by time and tossed away as too taboo to mention. My life's work is ongoing. My purpose is true. And, for those unafraid to separate the stuck-together pages, my collection is open to you.
—A Tour through the Archives of Curiosity Killed The Cat—
What you must first understand is that Cervidic Runes are not simply pictures to warn you of dangers ahead.
The meaning does not start and end at simple good luck charms and well wishes.
They are narratives. And narratives change depending on who tells the story. How they tell the story. What details they find important to tell in the story. Only if we inspect the sides to the story we don't want to hear can we gain access to the full picture.
The descent into Corruption is largely unstudied. We know that the process is individually unforgiving. That Corruption is a brand on the Faunid who once was like us. In this sense, in becoming Corrupted, you also become a sigil. You become a story. A story with a universally dreadful end.
But how often does the average Faunid stick around long enough to hear how this story really ends? Not often enough to step closer and truly see more pieces to the puzzle than we can gain from avoiding the dark side of our world. Runes are messages. Sigils are powerful. Sigils tap into the arcane. Sigils allow us to see a glimpse into the minds that have brushed against that magical veil, and stayed conscious enough to speak of what they saw. Runes deter those walking down the wrong path. Sigils capture the eyes, and raise the fur on your neck. They invoke power. The most intriguing sigils contain power.
Since you are still here, I assume you're not afraid like the others often are. I keep no secrets, least of all from those who seek answers. Here is a small collection of the sigils I've encountered in my journey. They have been gathered through the journals of Faunids no longer with us, from my own observations, and from the hands that scrawled them directly onto my papers.
Examples of uses
The Moon Prince
We found this Sigil painted onto a large, flat rockscape during our travels.
The size of it cast a shadow during the day, and when we returned at night the moon cast a glow across it. I etched this recreation in my notes, and when we came across the nearest town we interviewed the locals. They warned us to stay away, and that this sigil was a claim to territory by a long-lost Faunid who claimed to be in commune with the moon itself. Curious.
The Meat-Eater
This Sigil was drawn by a self-professed carnivore, who claimed to have eaten the flesh of his kind until he became something new.
He confided in us that he was better now. I never had the chance to ask what he meant by that; Satisfaction politely bid farewell, and we went our separate ways. The birds followed us for days.
![[Lorne] Sigil](https://cdn.prod.website-files.com/66e72bb10dcb8cb0f1cb206f/68ae614ed7b176cd87410fde_sig3.png)
Myceliac Melancholic
We found this sigil in a ring of mushrooms. It was carved into the dirt.
As we walked on, we both felt a sense of being watched. A few times now, I've caught a glimpse of something blue peeking through the trees. Whoever they are, they must be benign, or they would have gotten us already.
Carnival Arachnid
Pretzel is a Faunid we've come to a sense of mutual familiarity with, as his haunting grounds are only a few days' travels away from home, in the heart of The Wildwood. While Pretzel is rarely lucid enough to hold conversation with, over the years we've managed to gain a wealth of information about his journey into his own Corruption.
We asked Pretzel to illustrate who he is and how he came to be. While it may look messy, his work paints quite a clear picture of his story.
We know that Pretzel's corruption began at a young age, when he was left behind somehow in the ruins of some kind of circus. He's drawn us a tent, near the bottom. We also know it rains quite often here. Pretzel has described his first memories with frequent rainfall.
Out of what seems to have started as necessity but became sport, Pretzel turned this circus into a complicated web of traps to prey on those unfortunate enough to stumble into it. This place is the only thing Pretzel knows, and he knows it very, very well. That web is the most complicated construction in his sigil. He seems to take... immense pride in this activity.
Face of many antlers
This individual was truly a sight to behold.
Antlers sprouted from every flat plane of their body, protruding in such a way to make them truly untouchable. They claimed to have absorbed the minds who once wore their own tines.
When questioned further, they began to detail places and faces they had never seen with their own two eyes. These descriptions were so rich with detail that we could hardly deny they were true. I know when I'm being strung along, as does my partner. Such captivating stories.
Should I ever cross this Corrupted Faunid again, I'll have to see if I recognize any new additions to their collection.
![[Character Moniker] Sigil](https://cdn.prod.website-files.com/66e72bb10dcb8cb0f1cb206f/68ae614e16a2dd4da856d8d1_sig4.png)
This is only the start, of course. The full story has yet to reveal itself. There are pages missing, yes, even in my archive. Only a fool would claim to know every mystery hidden in the depths of our world. Empty shelves collect dust where books should take their rightful places.
Something is missing. What, exactly, this is has not revealed itself to me. But I think I know. It must be potent. I can catch glimmers of it, at the corners of my vision. These runes, these sigils, these stories, all of them lead to the same place:
The Lifesource.
...Ah, it seems our tour must be cut short today.
Return again, some time, would you? I'll be sure to have more prepared for you to explore. In the mean time, some parting advice for a kindred spirit:
Always remember that, when seeking answers in the heart of darkness, you should never go alone.
You may be lost without the answers you seek.