a newborn appears in the midst of a group of humans
it is a demon, an infant which guzzled on the collapsing timestream of the old world. domain: luck
*chica, I guess*
That group of humans is a group that managed to escape the Red Festival (vampires were created, god of the afterlife died and tons of people are trapped in a magic valley) and are currently trying to survive in the mostly empty wasteland, though plants are starting to sprout and rain does fall occasionally, it’ll take years before life spreads to this world completely.
one of the humans picks up the baby, confused.
”where did it come from…”
the human is hypnotized, and starts treating the infant as their own
Crotalus has led his new people out to the desert to establish their society.
Some people complain and are exhausted, but many others are determined to survive.
(oh by the way due to Herionidus’ magic and all of the crazy stuff that happens at his parties, Herionidians use a race separate from humans, which I’m currently making. It’s basically just a resistance to poison, they can talk to ghosts, and they can create and gain buffs from flavorful food, being the former followers of the god of food)
a newborn appears in the midst of a group of humans
it is a demon, an infant which guzzled on the collapsing timestream of the old world. domain: luck
*chica, I guess*
That group of humans is a group that managed to escape the Red Festival (vampires were created, god of the afterlife died and tons of people are trapped in a magic valley) and are currently trying to survive in the mostly empty wasteland, though plants are starting to sprout and rain does fall occasionally, it’ll take years before life spreads to this world completely.
one of the humans picks up the baby, confused.
”where did it come from…”
the human is hypnotized, and starts treating the infant as their own
The humans are slightly confused as well, but mostly just carry on traveling away from Herionidus’ valley.
a newborn appears in the midst of a group of humans
it is a demon, an infant which guzzled on the collapsing timestream of the old world. domain: luck
*chica, I guess*
That group of humans is a group that managed to escape the Red Festival (vampires were created, god of the afterlife died and tons of people are trapped in a magic valley) and are currently trying to survive in the mostly empty wasteland, though plants are starting to sprout and rain does fall occasionally, it’ll take years before life spreads to this world completely.
one of the humans picks up the baby, confused.
”where did it come from…”
the human is hypnotized, and starts treating the infant as their own
The humans are slightly confused as well, but mostly just carry on traveling away from Herionidus’ valley.
the area around them begins howling with wind as the dirt and dust off the ground return to the shape of a snow capped mountain, as it once was in the old world, a home for the new followers of the infant
Crotalus has led his new people out to the desert to establish their society.
Some people complain and are exhausted, but many others are determined to survive.
(oh by the way due to Herionidus’ magic and all of the crazy stuff that happens at his parties, Herionidians use a race separate from humans, which I’m currently making. It’s basically just a resistance to poison, they can talk to ghosts, and they can create and gain buffs from flavorful food, being the former followers of the god of food)
*Sounds pretty awesome. That poison ability will give them an edge in the desert.*
Crotalus teaches them the ways of the desert. He shows where water can be found, what plants have nutritional and medicinal values, and what sort of beasts to avoid. He rounds up a herd of wild longhorn cattle, bringing them to the Crotalites to be used for ranching.
During the dead of night, screams fill the Valley of Herionidus as the red festival goes on. A storm has been brewing for hours, and it starts to rain. Thunder crackles in the sky and lightning strikes the perfect white cliffs. A human, dazed and expressionless, stumbles his way up the mountain of the Red Fruit Tree.
on the ground lay Dead Herionidus’ crown, a magnificent weaving of thorny roots adorned with leaves that have wilted and are falling moment after moment, as well as several large pale white flowers, the only part of the crown that seems to be living. The crown’s thorns are stained with Blood. Sickeningly sweet, violet and golden blood. The blood of a murdered god.
the human lurches towards for the crown, grabbing it and pricking his hand on the thorns. He picks it up, and starts stumbling down from the hill, towards the cliffs, ready for a long, long, long climb.
During the dead of night, screams fill the Valley of Herionidus as the red festival goes on. A storm has been brewing for hours, and it starts to rain. Thunder crackles in the sky and lightning strikes the perfect white cliffs. A human, dazed and expressionless, stumbles his way up the mountain of the Red Fruit Tree.
on the ground lay Dead Herionidus’ crown, a magnificent weaving of thorny roots adorned with leaves that have wilted and are falling moment after moment, as well as several large pale white flowers, the only part of the crown that seems to be living. The crown’s thorns are stained with Blood. Sickeningly sweet, violet and golden blood. The blood of a murdered god.
the human lurches towards for the crown, grabbing it and pricking his hand on the thorns. He picks it up, and starts stumbling down from the hill, towards the cliffs, ready for a long, long, long climb.
a sort of funnelcloud descends towards the human. in a whooshing, swirling voice it says: "crownbearer or servant? are you even under your own control? speak, human, and reveal the answers to me!"
During the dead of night, screams fill the Valley of Herionidus as the red festival goes on. A storm has been brewing for hours, and it starts to rain. Thunder crackles in the sky and lightning strikes the perfect white cliffs. A human, dazed and expressionless, stumbles his way up the mountain of the Red Fruit Tree.
on the ground lay Dead Herionidus’ crown, a magnificent weaving of thorny roots adorned with leaves that have wilted and are falling moment after moment, as well as several large pale white flowers, the only part of the crown that seems to be living. The crown’s thorns are stained with Blood. Sickeningly sweet, violet and golden blood. The blood of a murdered god.
the human lurches towards for the crown, grabbing it and pricking his hand on the thorns. He picks it up, and starts stumbling down from the hill, towards the cliffs, ready for a long, long, long climb.
a sort of funnelcloud descends towards the human. in a whooshing, swirling voice it says: "crownbearer or servant? are you even under your own control? speak, human, and reveal the answers to me!"
The man looks up and in a raspy voice, he answers.
”t-the crown… is not mine to wear… it must be protected… that’s what it told me…L
During the dead of night, screams fill the Valley of Herionidus as the red festival goes on. A storm has been brewing for hours, and it starts to rain. Thunder crackles in the sky and lightning strikes the perfect white cliffs. A human, dazed and expressionless, stumbles his way up the mountain of the Red Fruit Tree.
on the ground lay Dead Herionidus’ crown, a magnificent weaving of thorny roots adorned with leaves that have wilted and are falling moment after moment, as well as several large pale white flowers, the only part of the crown that seems to be living. The crown’s thorns are stained with Blood. Sickeningly sweet, violet and golden blood. The blood of a murdered god.
the human lurches towards for the crown, grabbing it and pricking his hand on the thorns. He picks it up, and starts stumbling down from the hill, towards the cliffs, ready for a long, long, long climb.
a sort of funnelcloud descends towards the human. in a whooshing, swirling voice it says: "crownbearer or servant? are you even under your own control? speak, human, and reveal the answers to me!"
The man looks up and in a raspy voice, he answers.
”t-the crown… is not mine to wear… it must be protected… that’s what it told me…L
"then, crown of death, tell me! is it vengeance you seek? vengeance for herionidus?"
During the dead of night, screams fill the Valley of Herionidus as the red festival goes on. A storm has been brewing for hours, and it starts to rain. Thunder crackles in the sky and lightning strikes the perfect white cliffs. A human, dazed and expressionless, stumbles his way up the mountain of the Red Fruit Tree.
on the ground lay Dead Herionidus’ crown, a magnificent weaving of thorny roots adorned with leaves that have wilted and are falling moment after moment, as well as several large pale white flowers, the only part of the crown that seems to be living. The crown’s thorns are stained with Blood. Sickeningly sweet, violet and golden blood. The blood of a murdered god.
the human lurches towards for the crown, grabbing it and pricking his hand on the thorns. He picks it up, and starts stumbling down from the hill, towards the cliffs, ready for a long, long, long climb.
a sort of funnelcloud descends towards the human. in a whooshing, swirling voice it says: "crownbearer or servant? are you even under your own control? speak, human, and reveal the answers to me!"
The man looks up and in a raspy voice, he answers.
”t-the crown… is not mine to wear… it must be protected… that’s what it told me…L
"then, crown of death, tell me! is it vengeance you seek? vengeance for herionidus?"
A voice shivers into existence, as if the rain and wind itself were speaking.
Yes… Herionidus was murdered, and that act is abominable. But pain cannot be fixed with pain, and so pain I shall bring. To all who have helped in the eventual murder of Herionidus.
During the dead of night, screams fill the Valley of Herionidus as the red festival goes on. A storm has been brewing for hours, and it starts to rain. Thunder crackles in the sky and lightning strikes the perfect white cliffs. A human, dazed and expressionless, stumbles his way up the mountain of the Red Fruit Tree.
on the ground lay Dead Herionidus’ crown, a magnificent weaving of thorny roots adorned with leaves that have wilted and are falling moment after moment, as well as several large pale white flowers, the only part of the crown that seems to be living. The crown’s thorns are stained with Blood. Sickeningly sweet, violet and golden blood. The blood of a murdered god.
the human lurches towards for the crown, grabbing it and pricking his hand on the thorns. He picks it up, and starts stumbling down from the hill, towards the cliffs, ready for a long, long, long climb.
a sort of funnelcloud descends towards the human. in a whooshing, swirling voice it says: "crownbearer or servant? are you even under your own control? speak, human, and reveal the answers to me!"
The man looks up and in a raspy voice, he answers.
”t-the crown… is not mine to wear… it must be protected… that’s what it told me…L
"then, crown of death, tell me! is it vengeance you seek? vengeance for herionidus?"
A voice shivers into existence, as if the rain and wind itself were speaking.
Yes… Herionidus was murdered, and that act is abominable. But pain cannot be fixed with pain, and so pain I shall bring. To all who have helped in the eventual murder of Herionidus.
"goood. I shall help. let me assist in your climb." a slit appears in the vortex. "enter, and I shall bear you up to your destination."
During the dead of night, screams fill the Valley of Herionidus as the red festival goes on. A storm has been brewing for hours, and it starts to rain. Thunder crackles in the sky and lightning strikes the perfect white cliffs. A human, dazed and expressionless, stumbles his way up the mountain of the Red Fruit Tree.
on the ground lay Dead Herionidus’ crown, a magnificent weaving of thorny roots adorned with leaves that have wilted and are falling moment after moment, as well as several large pale white flowers, the only part of the crown that seems to be living. The crown’s thorns are stained with Blood. Sickeningly sweet, violet and golden blood. The blood of a murdered god.
the human lurches towards for the crown, grabbing it and pricking his hand on the thorns. He picks it up, and starts stumbling down from the hill, towards the cliffs, ready for a long, long, long climb.
a sort of funnelcloud descends towards the human. in a whooshing, swirling voice it says: "crownbearer or servant? are you even under your own control? speak, human, and reveal the answers to me!"
The man looks up and in a raspy voice, he answers.
”t-the crown… is not mine to wear… it must be protected… that’s what it told me…L
"then, crown of death, tell me! is it vengeance you seek? vengeance for herionidus?"
A voice shivers into existence, as if the rain and wind itself were speaking.
Yes… Herionidus was murdered, and that act is abominable. But pain cannot be fixed with pain, and so pain I shall bring. To all who have helped in the eventual murder of Herionidus.
"goood. I shall help. let me assist in your climb." a slit appears in the vortex. "enter, and I shall bear you up to your destination."
During the dead of night, screams fill the Valley of Herionidus as the red festival goes on. A storm has been brewing for hours, and it starts to rain. Thunder crackles in the sky and lightning strikes the perfect white cliffs. A human, dazed and expressionless, stumbles his way up the mountain of the Red Fruit Tree.
on the ground lay Dead Herionidus’ crown, a magnificent weaving of thorny roots adorned with leaves that have wilted and are falling moment after moment, as well as several large pale white flowers, the only part of the crown that seems to be living. The crown’s thorns are stained with Blood. Sickeningly sweet, violet and golden blood. The blood of a murdered god.
the human lurches towards for the crown, grabbing it and pricking his hand on the thorns. He picks it up, and starts stumbling down from the hill, towards the cliffs, ready for a long, long, long climb.
a sort of funnelcloud descends towards the human. in a whooshing, swirling voice it says: "crownbearer or servant? are you even under your own control? speak, human, and reveal the answers to me!"
The man looks up and in a raspy voice, he answers.
”t-the crown… is not mine to wear… it must be protected… that’s what it told me…L
"then, crown of death, tell me! is it vengeance you seek? vengeance for herionidus?"
A voice shivers into existence, as if the rain and wind itself were speaking.
Yes… Herionidus was murdered, and that act is abominable. But pain cannot be fixed with pain, and so pain I shall bring. To all who have helped in the eventual murder of Herionidus.
"goood. I shall help. let me assist in your climb." a slit appears in the vortex. "enter, and I shall bear you up to your destination."
The human enters through the slit in the vortex.
whirling winds propel the human and the crown upwards into the heart of the thundercloud, which gives way and drops them lightly onto the top of the cliffs. "if you need anything in your pursuit of vengeance, just say: 'i summon thee, o Lord of storms, cloud above all, bringer of lightning, chaos walker.' I will assist."
In the heart of the night, a shadow takes form,
Ebonflame, the guardian, in darkness is born.
Crafted of shadows and elements black,
A sentinel standing 'gainst the light's attack.
Veins of black blood, a luminous sight,
Pulsing with energy, in the moonless night.
Eyes like ancient runes, a mystical glow,
Seeing into dimensions, where mortals don't go.
Smoke rises from runes, in patterns it weaves,
Ebonflame, the ancient, a spell it achieves.
A figure of mystery, of forbidden lore,
Guarding the knowledge of what came before.
In the silence, it stands, an ominous silhouette,
A figure of awe, in shadows is set.
Ebonflame, the guardian, in the darkness does reign,
An eternal sentinel, in the mystical plane.
Ebon flame sees dozens of humans running, exhausted and covered in mud and dirt, from a giant valley surrounded by enormous white cliffs. The humans look like they haven’t stopped running for at least a day, and they are heading for the ruined city.
Ebon flame sees dozens of humans running, exhausted and covered in mud and dirt, from a giant valley surrounded by enormous white cliffs. The humans look like they haven’t stopped running for at least a day, and they are heading for the ruined city.
Ebonflame (one word) creates ananhkoloxto guard the city, (CR 9, can do it because undeath domain so 2 levels higher for undeath related stuff) but orders it to capture, not kill.
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PM me the word tomato
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the human is hypnotized, and starts treating the infant as their own
hi
mourn the flumph. enter the galaxy, join the planetscape! yep. do you like ravenloft?
new thread coming eventually.
bye
Some people complain and are exhausted, but many others are determined to survive.
(oh by the way due to Herionidus’ magic and all of the crazy stuff that happens at his parties, Herionidians use a race separate from humans, which I’m currently making. It’s basically just a resistance to poison, they can talk to ghosts, and they can create and gain buffs from flavorful food, being the former followers of the god of food)
The humans are slightly confused as well, but mostly just carry on traveling away from Herionidus’ valley.
the area around them begins howling with wind as the dirt and dust off the ground return to the shape of a snow capped mountain, as it once was in the old world, a home for the new followers of the infant
hi
mourn the flumph. enter the galaxy, join the planetscape! yep. do you like ravenloft?
new thread coming eventually.
bye
*Sounds pretty awesome. That poison ability will give them an edge in the desert.*
Crotalus teaches them the ways of the desert. He shows where water can be found, what plants have nutritional and medicinal values, and what sort of beasts to avoid. He rounds up a herd of wild longhorn cattle, bringing them to the Crotalites to be used for ranching.
a great storm begins forming. great one, domain: tempest
hi
mourn the flumph. enter the galaxy, join the planetscape! yep. do you like ravenloft?
new thread coming eventually.
bye
During the dead of night, screams fill the Valley of Herionidus as the red festival goes on. A storm has been brewing for hours, and it starts to rain. Thunder crackles in the sky and lightning strikes the perfect white cliffs. A human, dazed and expressionless, stumbles his way up the mountain of the Red Fruit Tree.
on the ground lay Dead Herionidus’ crown, a magnificent weaving of thorny roots adorned with leaves that have wilted and are falling moment after moment, as well as several large pale white flowers, the only part of the crown that seems to be living. The crown’s thorns are stained with Blood. Sickeningly sweet, violet and golden blood. The blood of a murdered god.
the human lurches towards for the crown, grabbing it and pricking his hand on the thorns. He picks it up, and starts stumbling down from the hill, towards the cliffs, ready for a long, long, long climb.
a sort of funnelcloud descends towards the human. in a whooshing, swirling voice it says: "crownbearer or servant? are you even under your own control? speak, human, and reveal the answers to me!"
hi
mourn the flumph. enter the galaxy, join the planetscape! yep. do you like ravenloft?
new thread coming eventually.
bye
The man looks up and in a raspy voice, he answers.
”t-the crown… is not mine to wear… it must be protected… that’s what it told me…L
"then, crown of death, tell me! is it vengeance you seek? vengeance for herionidus?"
hi
mourn the flumph. enter the galaxy, join the planetscape! yep. do you like ravenloft?
new thread coming eventually.
bye
A voice shivers into existence, as if the rain and wind itself were speaking.
Yes… Herionidus was murdered, and that act is abominable. But pain cannot be fixed with pain, and so pain I shall bring. To all who have helped in the eventual murder of Herionidus.
Aria is resting in her temple with her followers
I’m a decent DM and an above average rules lawyer
I have several complete Pokedexes | I may be stupid, but at least I’m not smart!
Stay Paranoid!! My Drummer given title is… Swift as the Dragon
May the dice roll ever in your favor
"goood. I shall help. let me assist in your climb." a slit appears in the vortex. "enter, and I shall bear you up to your destination."
hi
mourn the flumph. enter the galaxy, join the planetscape! yep. do you like ravenloft?
new thread coming eventually.
bye
The human enters through the slit in the vortex.
whirling winds propel the human and the crown upwards into the heart of the thundercloud, which gives way and drops them lightly onto the top of the cliffs. "if you need anything in your pursuit of vengeance, just say: 'i summon thee, o Lord of storms, cloud above all, bringer of lightning, chaos walker.' I will assist."
hi
mourn the flumph. enter the galaxy, join the planetscape! yep. do you like ravenloft?
new thread coming eventually.
bye
*purple guy*
Ebonflame: Great one, Undeath domain. Appearance: Ebonflame Appearance
In the heart of the night, a shadow takes form, Ebonflame, the guardian, in darkness is born. Crafted of shadows and elements black, A sentinel standing 'gainst the light's attack. Veins of black blood, a luminous sight, Pulsing with energy, in the moonless night. Eyes like ancient runes, a mystical glow, Seeing into dimensions, where mortals don't go. Smoke rises from runes, in patterns it weaves, Ebonflame, the ancient, a spell it achieves. A figure of mystery, of forbidden lore, Guarding the knowledge of what came before. In the silence, it stands, an ominous silhouette, A figure of awe, in shadows is set. Ebonflame, the guardian, in the darkness does reign, An eternal sentinel, in the mystical plane.
PM me the word tomato
plz let me join
PM me the word tomato
he's lurking in the shadows of a ruined city
PM me the word tomato
Ebon flame sees dozens of humans running, exhausted and covered in mud and dirt, from a giant valley surrounded by enormous white cliffs. The humans look like they haven’t stopped running for at least a day, and they are heading for the ruined city.
Ebonflame (one word) creates an anhkolox to guard the city, (CR 9, can do it because undeath domain so 2 levels higher for undeath related stuff) but orders it to capture, not kill.
PM me the word tomato