Monstrous Compendium Vol. 1: Spelljammer Creatures
Frozen Sick
D&D Beyond Basic Rules
Basic Rules (2014)
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Monstrous Compendium Vol. 1: Spelljammer CreaturesFrozen SickD&D Beyond Basic RulesBasic Rules (2014)Sign in to view your library & saved favorites.
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*Cut for Wendi.*
He turns to them and begins walking towards them before sitting down at their table. He reaches down to his belt, and out of hellfire a broken black oni’s mask forms there, which he takes in his hands, putting the lower fragment on, covering his nose and mouth. He rests his other hand on the blade’s hilt. His voice speaks with the echoing of crackling flames, though it is more soft than when speaking to the members of that gang “What do you seek of us? We could sense your gaze, and it was knowing.”
*Exactly, you could make them calculating without making them cold, just smart enough enough to know how something is a mistake, like killing one of Rag’s friends and letting him know who did it, just for an example. That is certainly an interesting idea.*
They look up and then point to the blade and then extend a hand, palm facing up, as if it see it.
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
He shakes his head “You cannot, I apologize.” He says, taking his hand off of the blade, taking off the mask and returning it to his belt, in which it then disappears.
They let out a sigh and fidget with the cube again, lightly shrugging.
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
*That could work. I was considering making them just agonizingly OP so they could fight Rag, but that isn't very fun. As I always say, there will always be bigger numbers.*
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
He looks down to the cube, leaning down to get a closer look at it, his black eyes shining a slight blue “May I ask what that is?”
"Prototype." He says, his voice like steel, sure and hard. "Call it the God-trap."
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
*Yeah, and I don’t really like using Rag for combat outside of the dome before of how ridiculously powerful he is when it comes to fighting people. I like him as a purely rp character here, rn.*
His eyes twitches before he takes a deep breath, calming himself down “Hmm, I did not know that there could be such a thing. Who are you sir?”
"Max." he said "You can call em Max." he looks up at them from behind the welders mask.
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
He looks up to them, holding out a hand to them, the roughest part of him being his palms “Tengen.” He gives a friendly smile.
They nod but dont shake their hand, as if avoiding contact, with their eyes or with their hands in general. "Nice to meet you."
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
He takes his hand back, not taking it personally as he returns his hands to his side “Nice to meet you too Max.” He continues to smile, though his eyes don’t carry the expression in entirety.
*Good morning-ish, everyone!*
KK is on the roof of the Inn, taking notes of something.
Helianth is wandering around Lord's Point, looking for anyone it recognizes.
Former Spider Queen of the Spider Guild, and friendly neighborhood scheming creature.
"Made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders."
My pronouns are she/her.
Web Weaver of Everlasting Narrative! (title bestowed by Drummer)
I was thinking he was born to a starving village that tried to feed him to the pigs since they didn't have enough food to take care of a growing boy, but he ended up eating one of the pigs instead. A powerful organization saw how much power he held to be able to do such a thing as a mere infant, and took him in to raise him, telling him about his tragic backstory and how he was so special and wonderful and they all loved him. He was sent out as basically a crusader, and he believed he was doing the right thing. He was miserable, but they told him he was happy, that this was the pinnacle of goodness and holiness and joy, and that they were giving him the best this world had to offer. Remember this.
When he was captured by enemy forces, they tortured him for years trying the get information out of him until he finally expired. He never said a word this entire time. In the netherworld, he found out that not only did everyone hate him for doing evil this entire time, but he had been serving a vile cult that exploited his devotion, they were never planning on sending anyone to help him out, and they were the reason the village he was born in was starving in the first place.
Everything he knew and loved was a lie. All the "good guys" were just as bad as the monsters they fought. And he had been complacent in it. He drowned his sorrows by gorging himself on the delights of the netherworld, his supernatural strength allowing him to eat his way through the hostile environment and monsters with ease, and his unearthly charisma making him beloved by the denizens of the plane. He grew to become one of the most dangerous beings down there, absorbing the power of the demons he ate and amassing his own cult of horrors and hedonists.
He fell back to the same problem as before: deciding that he knew who the good and bad guys were entirely by their relationship to himself. He had come to the conclusion that life was horrible and all living beings were suffering in their realm of filth and hate, while the netherworld was filled with free wonders and delights. He had suffered such trauma that even this hell felt like a heaven in comparison, and never once did it occur to him that some people up top might be truly happy with their lives and weren't just being told they were happy by someone stronger than them, or that they might not enjoy what he enjoyed.
He plotted for centuries to rise to the surface, to save all the people who needed to be saved, but he was always stopped by the Lords of the Deep and their security measures. However, recently, they removed all the things that kept spirits from escaping in order to supplement the war effort...
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
Awake, impure, divine
Breathgiver of the Strugels
*I am eepy.*
𝔾𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕡 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕕𝕠𝕦𝕓𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕤, 𝕡𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝕀'𝕧𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕦𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕟, 𝕜𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕡 𝕒 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕔𝕙
𝔻𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕟 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕤𝕒𝕟𝕕'𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘
*Hey everybody, I’m back, anybody here?*
haberdasheries or something
Error. (Traceback) line 1, <Juggernaut> is undefined.
>Attempt <EXTENDED SIG>?
[Y] [N]
[init shutdown]
[Y] [N]
Shutting down... (click the [Y] buttons, they are links)
*mornin everyone*
A young woman in a sun hat enters the inn. Her long blonde hair brushes the hem of her sundress, swaying back and forth across the lacey edge as she walks. Slung across her shoulder is an antique leather bag. Sitting at the bar, she clutches the pendant on her necklace. It’s a small blue stone that matches her eyes encased in gold filigree, hanging from a thin golden chain. Something about her face... her expression is somewhere between resignation and total detatchment
I'm Fry, a doodler, writer, aspiring singer/songwriter, and sort-of youtuber (check me out!) goofin' around on the interwebs
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