His touch burns at first, like a hot surface under the sun, but it becomes warm and bearable in a few seconds. The wound stops swelling and the pain abates until you can't even see the bite mark. It is completely healed.
"...Heirionidus?"
“In spirit. Dead Herionidus shall live for this crown and its wearer are Herionidus as well… Long Live Herionidus…” the man stumbles, breathing heavily. Despite the wound healing he is sick, very, very sick.
"Set the crown down a minute and rest. Lookee here, a persimmon tree. Eat some of this fruit to replenish your strength." He slams his skeletal fist into the earth, burying it in the sand. When he pulls it out water wells up in a clear pool. "I have pulled water from deep within the earth, have a drink."
Slowly, he puts the crown down on the sand. He collapses to his knees and eats some of the fruit and drinks some of the water. He seems to be reinvigorated and rejuvenated slightly.
Crotalus carefully picks up the crown and examines it.
His touch burns at first, like a hot surface under the sun, but it becomes warm and bearable in a few seconds. The wound stops swelling and the pain abates until you can't even see the bite mark. It is completely healed.
"...Heirionidus?"
“In spirit. Dead Herionidus shall live for this crown and its wearer are Herionidus as well… Long Live Herionidus…” the man stumbles, breathing heavily. Despite the wound healing he is sick, very, very sick.
"Set the crown down a minute and rest. Lookee here, a persimmon tree. Eat some of this fruit to replenish your strength." He slams his skeletal fist into the earth, burying it in the sand. When he pulls it out water wells up in a clear pool. "I have pulled water from deep within the earth, have a drink."
Slowly, he puts the crown down on the sand. He collapses to his knees and eats some of the fruit and drinks some of the water. He seems to be reinvigorated and rejuvenated slightly.
Crotalus carefully picks up the crown and examines it.
It’s weaved of thin, delicate branches, the same wood as Herionidus’ tree once was. But this one is covered in bloodstained thorns, both the blood of the old man, as well as Herionidus. The only living part of the crown are the several small, pale pink flowers, probably roses.
Will you bear the crown? Says a voice inside of Crotalus‘ head.
The gnawing feeling of starvation is a torturous experience that no creature can escape. It's like a chain that tightens around your gaunt stomach, relentlessly reminding you of your desperate need for sustenance. Your body craves anything to quiet the hunger pangs. The consequences of not eating are dire - your body wastes away until you succumb to death. However, even if you do eat, the insatiable desire for more food can be overwhelming, driving you to consume everything in sight.
From the Goddess of Life's body, the twin Godlings of Famine are born. Elise and Elias, The Children of Hunger. They devour their mother's carcass, their mouth stained red and hands buried deep within the writhing flesh. After they finish saying their hunger, they look around, confused as to where they are. With blood licked off their lips, they clasp their hands together, walking about.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Forgive the mess, I am trying to regain my sanity again."
The gnawing feeling of starvation is a torturous experience that no creature can escape. It's like a chain that tightens around your gaunt stomach, relentlessly reminding you of your desperate need for sustenance. Your body craves anything to quiet the hunger pangs. The consequences of not eating are dire - your body wastes away until you succumb to death. However, even if you do eat, the insatiable desire for more food can be overwhelming, driving you to consume everything in sight.
From the Goddess of Life's body, the twin Godlings of Famine are born. Elise and Elias, The Children of Hunger. They devour their mother's carcass, their mouth stained red and hands buried deep within the writhing flesh. After they finish saying their hunger, they look around, confused as to where they are. With blood licked off their lips, they clasp their hands together, walking about.
They come across a goddess and four of her followers working hard in a temple
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
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
The gnawing feeling of starvation is a torturous experience that no creature can escape. It's like a chain that tightens around your gaunt stomach, relentlessly reminding you of your desperate need for sustenance. Your body craves anything to quiet the hunger pangs. The consequences of not eating are dire - your body wastes away until you succumb to death. However, even if you do eat, the insatiable desire for more food can be overwhelming, driving you to consume everything in sight.
From the Goddess of Life's body, the twin Godlings of Famine are born. Elise and Elias, The Children of Hunger. They devour their mother's carcass, their mouth stained red and hands buried deep within the writhing flesh. After they finish saying their hunger, they look around, confused as to where they are. With blood licked off their lips, they clasp their hands together, walking about.
They come across a goddess and four of her followers working hard in a temple
They watch with dulled pink and blue eyes, heads tilted.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Forgive the mess, I am trying to regain my sanity again."
Savut, reclined in her dwelling in the great tupelo, looks upon large clusters of what resemble minuscule specks in the swamp water. She smiles upon them, as they begin hatching. But these insect eggs are atypical. Emerging are small long-legged bugs with thin wings, and they are a strange reflective mottled gold. In an instant, the swarm of them begins to fly in the direction of Crotalus’s realm, only a few hundred or so staying behind. The plan was in motion.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.
The gnawing feeling of starvation is a torturous experience that no creature can escape. It's like a chain that tightens around your gaunt stomach, relentlessly reminding you of your desperate need for sustenance. Your body craves anything to quiet the hunger pangs. The consequences of not eating are dire - your body wastes away until you succumb to death. However, even if you do eat, the insatiable desire for more food can be overwhelming, driving you to consume everything in sight.
From the Goddess of Life's body, the twin Godlings of Famine are born. Elise and Elias, The Children of Hunger. They devour their mother's carcass, their mouth stained red and hands buried deep within the writhing flesh. After they finish saying their hunger, they look around, confused as to where they are. With blood licked off their lips, they clasp their hands together, walking about.
They come across a goddess and four of her followers working hard in a temple
They watch with dulled pink and blue eyes, heads tilted.
A human with bright pink hair walks over. “Can we help you?”
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
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
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.
Upon seeing the creature, the humans all try to flee. (Which I assume fails because it’s a CR 9 monster, I just can’t see it cuz I don’t own that book.)
it has str 22, so... yeah. it only is able to capture 1 though
That one person is absolutely terrified as it is captured.
ebonflame asks it what its doing here in his domain
“P-please let me go... we were just trying to get away from them… the valley of Dead Herionidus… The Red Festival.
another human is approaching the city, not a part of the original group. He is an old man, stumbling through the wasteland that is only starting to sprout with flowers and life. In his hands he holds a crown made of thorns and pale pink flowers. It radiates with traces of power. The old man has a blank expression, wandering towards the city without meaning.
Ahh... Heriondus. So... how did you end up at the red festival?
he summons several zombies to escort the new arrival
“W-we were just minding our business, we lived in the valley… but then the Swarm murdered Herionidus… and Herionidus unleashed those wretched things into the valley. Every night, they kill hundreds. We were lucky to get out, most people couldn’t leave because the river became too strong…”
the old man doesn’t resist or flee in terror, instead following the zombies mindlessly.
The zombies lead the old man to Ebonflame, and he tells the old man what happened to the crown, and advises that he dispose of it. He also orders the ankholox to release the other human.
The human flees for their life.
The old man’s blank face shifts, showing hints of anger.
”t-the crown… must find a bearer… i-i am not worthy… I am not a god…”
funnelcloud descends, etc "would a Great One be close enough?"
this is my domain. I am supposed to be the only one here, besides mortal creatures. why are there 2 other greater wills in MY domain? get out! both of you!
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.
Upon seeing the creature, the humans all try to flee. (Which I assume fails because it’s a CR 9 monster, I just can’t see it cuz I don’t own that book.)
it has str 22, so... yeah. it only is able to capture 1 though
That one person is absolutely terrified as it is captured.
ebonflame asks it what its doing here in his domain
“P-please let me go... we were just trying to get away from them… the valley of Dead Herionidus… The Red Festival.
another human is approaching the city, not a part of the original group. He is an old man, stumbling through the wasteland that is only starting to sprout with flowers and life. In his hands he holds a crown made of thorns and pale pink flowers. It radiates with traces of power. The old man has a blank expression, wandering towards the city without meaning.
Ahh... Heriondus. So... how did you end up at the red festival?
he summons several zombies to escort the new arrival
“W-we were just minding our business, we lived in the valley… but then the Swarm murdered Herionidus… and Herionidus unleashed those wretched things into the valley. Every night, they kill hundreds. We were lucky to get out, most people couldn’t leave because the river became too strong…”
the old man doesn’t resist or flee in terror, instead following the zombies mindlessly.
The zombies lead the old man to Ebonflame, and he tells the old man what happened to the crown, and advises that he dispose of it. He also orders the ankholox to release the other human.
The human flees for their life.
The old man’s blank face shifts, showing hints of anger.
”t-the crown… must find a bearer… i-i am not worthy… I am not a god…”
funnelcloud descends, etc "would a Great One be close enough?"
this is my domain. I am supposed to be the only one here, besides mortal creatures. why are there 2 other greater wills in MY domain? get out! both of you!
The crown speaks, the words quivering into existence around it.
His touch burns at first, like a hot surface under the sun, but it becomes warm and bearable in a few seconds. The wound stops swelling and the pain abates until you can't even see the bite mark. It is completely healed.
"...Heirionidus?"
“In spirit. Dead Herionidus shall live for this crown and its wearer are Herionidus as well… Long Live Herionidus…” the man stumbles, breathing heavily. Despite the wound healing he is sick, very, very sick.
"Set the crown down a minute and rest. Lookee here, a persimmon tree. Eat some of this fruit to replenish your strength." He slams his skeletal fist into the earth, burying it in the sand. When he pulls it out water wells up in a clear pool. "I have pulled water from deep within the earth, have a drink."
Slowly, he puts the crown down on the sand. He collapses to his knees and eats some of the fruit and drinks some of the water. He seems to be reinvigorated and rejuvenated slightly.
Crotalus carefully picks up the crown and examines it.
It’s weaved of thin, delicate branches, the same wood as Herionidus’ tree once was. But this one is covered in bloodstained thorns, both the blood of the old man, as well as Herionidus. The only living part of the crown are the several small, pale pink flowers, probably roses.
Will you bear the crown? Says a voice inside of Crotalus‘ head.
"Thorns are a nice touch, Herionidus. Is that who you are? Are you his haint?"
Savut, reclined in her dwelling in the great tupelo, looks upon large clusters of what resemble minuscule specks in the swamp water. She smiles upon them, as they begin hatching. But these insect eggs are atypical. Emerging are small long-legged bugs with thin wings, and they are a strange reflective mottled gold. In an instant, the swarm of them begins to fly in the direction of Crotalus’s realm, only a few hundred or so staying behind. The plan was in motion.
Crotalus stands on the edge of his domain, watching the cloud of insects approach. This is a sight he is familiar with. As the god of deserts and famine, locusts swarms are commonplace. He observes to see if they are indeed locusts.
His touch burns at first, like a hot surface under the sun, but it becomes warm and bearable in a few seconds. The wound stops swelling and the pain abates until you can't even see the bite mark. It is completely healed.
"...Heirionidus?"
“In spirit. Dead Herionidus shall live for this crown and its wearer are Herionidus as well… Long Live Herionidus…” the man stumbles, breathing heavily. Despite the wound healing he is sick, very, very sick.
"Set the crown down a minute and rest. Lookee here, a persimmon tree. Eat some of this fruit to replenish your strength." He slams his skeletal fist into the earth, burying it in the sand. When he pulls it out water wells up in a clear pool. "I have pulled water from deep within the earth, have a drink."
Slowly, he puts the crown down on the sand. He collapses to his knees and eats some of the fruit and drinks some of the water. He seems to be reinvigorated and rejuvenated slightly.
Crotalus carefully picks up the crown and examines it.
It’s weaved of thin, delicate branches, the same wood as Herionidus’ tree once was. But this one is covered in bloodstained thorns, both the blood of the old man, as well as Herionidus. The only living part of the crown are the several small, pale pink flowers, probably roses.
Will you bear the crown? Says a voice inside of Crotalus‘ head.
"Thorns are a nice touch, Herionidus. Is that who you are? Are you his haint?"
dead Herionidus is dead, but he shall live. I am his hate, the act of his murder given sentience.
His touch burns at first, like a hot surface under the sun, but it becomes warm and bearable in a few seconds. The wound stops swelling and the pain abates until you can't even see the bite mark. It is completely healed.
"...Heirionidus?"
“In spirit. Dead Herionidus shall live for this crown and its wearer are Herionidus as well… Long Live Herionidus…” the man stumbles, breathing heavily. Despite the wound healing he is sick, very, very sick.
"Set the crown down a minute and rest. Lookee here, a persimmon tree. Eat some of this fruit to replenish your strength." He slams his skeletal fist into the earth, burying it in the sand. When he pulls it out water wells up in a clear pool. "I have pulled water from deep within the earth, have a drink."
Slowly, he puts the crown down on the sand. He collapses to his knees and eats some of the fruit and drinks some of the water. He seems to be reinvigorated and rejuvenated slightly.
Crotalus carefully picks up the crown and examines it.
It’s weaved of thin, delicate branches, the same wood as Herionidus’ tree once was. But this one is covered in bloodstained thorns, both the blood of the old man, as well as Herionidus. The only living part of the crown are the several small, pale pink flowers, probably roses.
Will you bear the crown? Says a voice inside of Crotalus‘ head.
"Thorns are a nice touch, Herionidus. Is that who you are? Are you his haint?"
dead Herionidus is dead, but he shall live. I am his hate, the act of his murder given sentience.
"The world's a hateful place, I think you'll like the desert. I reckon we don't need more of it though." He turns his wide horned head to the man, "You mind if I hold on to this for a little while?"
His touch burns at first, like a hot surface under the sun, but it becomes warm and bearable in a few seconds. The wound stops swelling and the pain abates until you can't even see the bite mark. It is completely healed.
"...Heirionidus?"
“In spirit. Dead Herionidus shall live for this crown and its wearer are Herionidus as well… Long Live Herionidus…” the man stumbles, breathing heavily. Despite the wound healing he is sick, very, very sick.
"Set the crown down a minute and rest. Lookee here, a persimmon tree. Eat some of this fruit to replenish your strength." He slams his skeletal fist into the earth, burying it in the sand. When he pulls it out water wells up in a clear pool. "I have pulled water from deep within the earth, have a drink."
Slowly, he puts the crown down on the sand. He collapses to his knees and eats some of the fruit and drinks some of the water. He seems to be reinvigorated and rejuvenated slightly.
Crotalus carefully picks up the crown and examines it.
It’s weaved of thin, delicate branches, the same wood as Herionidus’ tree once was. But this one is covered in bloodstained thorns, both the blood of the old man, as well as Herionidus. The only living part of the crown are the several small, pale pink flowers, probably roses.
Will you bear the crown? Says a voice inside of Crotalus‘ head.
"Thorns are a nice touch, Herionidus. Is that who you are? Are you his haint?"
dead Herionidus is dead, but he shall live. I am his hate, the act of his murder given sentience.
"The world's a hateful place, I think you'll like the desert. I reckon we don't need more of it though." He turns his wide horned head to the man, "You mind if I hold on to this for a little while?"
The man nods, not paying much attention while cleaning his wounded hands (from the thorns) with water.
Slowly, he puts the crown down on the sand. He collapses to his knees and eats some of the fruit and drinks some of the water. He seems to be reinvigorated and rejuvenated slightly.
Crotalus carefully picks up the crown and examines it.
It’s weaved of thin, delicate branches, the same wood as Herionidus’ tree once was. But this one is covered in bloodstained thorns, both the blood of the old man, as well as Herionidus. The only living part of the crown are the several small, pale pink flowers, probably roses.
Will you bear the crown? Says a voice inside of Crotalus‘ head.
"Thorns are a nice touch, Herionidus. Is that who you are? Are you his haint?"
dead Herionidus is dead, but he shall live. I am his hate, the act of his murder given sentience.
"The world's a hateful place, I think you'll like the desert. I reckon we don't need more of it though." He turns his wide horned head to the man, "You mind if I hold on to this for a little while?"
The man nods, not paying much attention while cleaning his wounded hands (from the thorns) with water.
In a whirl of sand he disappears with the crown. He reappears in another whirlwind atop his Holy Mesa. His boots crunch upon the sandy stone as he paces along its flat, red surface with the crown in hand. "Howdy, Hate of Herionidus. Tell me, what is it that you want?"
Slowly, he puts the crown down on the sand. He collapses to his knees and eats some of the fruit and drinks some of the water. He seems to be reinvigorated and rejuvenated slightly.
Crotalus carefully picks up the crown and examines it.
It’s weaved of thin, delicate branches, the same wood as Herionidus’ tree once was. But this one is covered in bloodstained thorns, both the blood of the old man, as well as Herionidus. The only living part of the crown are the several small, pale pink flowers, probably roses.
Will you bear the crown? Says a voice inside of Crotalus‘ head.
"Thorns are a nice touch, Herionidus. Is that who you are? Are you his haint?"
dead Herionidus is dead, but he shall live. I am his hate, the act of his murder given sentience.
"The world's a hateful place, I think you'll like the desert. I reckon we don't need more of it though." He turns his wide horned head to the man, "You mind if I hold on to this for a little while?"
The man nods, not paying much attention while cleaning his wounded hands (from the thorns) with water.
In a whirl of sand he disappears with the crown. He reappears in another whirlwind atop his Holy Mesa. His boots crunch upon the sandy stone as he paces along its flat, red surface with the crown in hand. "Howdy, Hate of Herionidus. Tell me, what is it that you want?"
revenge. It will bring only more pain into this world, but it is what is deserved.
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.
Upon seeing the creature, the humans all try to flee. (Which I assume fails because it’s a CR 9 monster, I just can’t see it cuz I don’t own that book.)
it has str 22, so... yeah. it only is able to capture 1 though
That one person is absolutely terrified as it is captured.
ebonflame asks it what its doing here in his domain
“P-please let me go... we were just trying to get away from them… the valley of Dead Herionidus… The Red Festival.
another human is approaching the city, not a part of the original group. He is an old man, stumbling through the wasteland that is only starting to sprout with flowers and life. In his hands he holds a crown made of thorns and pale pink flowers. It radiates with traces of power. The old man has a blank expression, wandering towards the city without meaning.
Ahh... Heriondus. So... how did you end up at the red festival?
he summons several zombies to escort the new arrival
“W-we were just minding our business, we lived in the valley… but then the Swarm murdered Herionidus… and Herionidus unleashed those wretched things into the valley. Every night, they kill hundreds. We were lucky to get out, most people couldn’t leave because the river became too strong…”
the old man doesn’t resist or flee in terror, instead following the zombies mindlessly.
The zombies lead the old man to Ebonflame, and he tells the old man what happened to the crown, and advises that he dispose of it. He also orders the ankholox to release the other human.
The human flees for their life.
The old man’s blank face shifts, showing hints of anger.
”t-the crown… must find a bearer… i-i am not worthy… I am not a god…”
funnelcloud descends, etc "would a Great One be close enough?"
this is my domain. I am supposed to be the only one here, besides mortal creatures. why are there 2 other greater wills in MY domain? get out! both of you!
The crown speaks, the words quivering into existence around it.
i can offer you… power…
really? you wouldn't merely compete with me? and you, funnel cloud, what say you. And one last question for you, crown: Are you really here, or are you being worn by someone named Crotalus in a desert? The same goes for you, old man.
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.
Upon seeing the creature, the humans all try to flee. (Which I assume fails because it’s a CR 9 monster, I just can’t see it cuz I don’t own that book.)
it has str 22, so... yeah. it only is able to capture 1 though
That one person is absolutely terrified as it is captured.
ebonflame asks it what its doing here in his domain
“P-please let me go... we were just trying to get away from them… the valley of Dead Herionidus… The Red Festival.
another human is approaching the city, not a part of the original group. He is an old man, stumbling through the wasteland that is only starting to sprout with flowers and life. In his hands he holds a crown made of thorns and pale pink flowers. It radiates with traces of power. The old man has a blank expression, wandering towards the city without meaning.
Ahh... Heriondus. So... how did you end up at the red festival?
he summons several zombies to escort the new arrival
“W-we were just minding our business, we lived in the valley… but then the Swarm murdered Herionidus… and Herionidus unleashed those wretched things into the valley. Every night, they kill hundreds. We were lucky to get out, most people couldn’t leave because the river became too strong…”
the old man doesn’t resist or flee in terror, instead following the zombies mindlessly.
The zombies lead the old man to Ebonflame, and he tells the old man what happened to the crown, and advises that he dispose of it. He also orders the ankholox to release the other human.
The human flees for their life.
The old man’s blank face shifts, showing hints of anger.
”t-the crown… must find a bearer… i-i am not worthy… I am not a god…”
funnelcloud descends, etc "would a Great One be close enough?"
this is my domain. I am supposed to be the only one here, besides mortal creatures. why are there 2 other greater wills in MY domain? get out! both of you!
The crown speaks, the words quivering into existence around it.
i can offer you… power…
really? you wouldn't merely compete with me? and you, funnel cloud, what say you. And one last question for you, crown: Are you really here, or are you being worn by someone named Crotalus in a desert? The same goes for you, old man.
The world works in mysterious ways. The crown says.
Savut, reclined in her dwelling in the great tupelo, looks upon large clusters of what resemble minuscule specks in the swamp water. She smiles upon them, as they begin hatching. But these insect eggs are atypical. Emerging are small long-legged bugs with thin wings, and they are a strange reflective mottled gold. In an instant, the swarm of them begins to fly in the direction of Crotalus’s realm, only a few hundred or so staying behind. The plan was in motion.
Crotalus stands on the edge of his domain, watching the cloud of insects approach. This is a sight he is familiar with. As the god of deserts and famine, locusts swarms are commonplace. He observes to see if they are indeed locusts.
They are not. They resemble some form of thrip but with a proboscis.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.
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Cogintius is wandering around his city, healing the wounds of mortals.
Faltros is wandering around his underworld domain, admiring the design of it all (probably because he made it).
Hello! I am a perfectly sane gibberer. Hi! :D
Locations are dead, the Temple of Potassium has fallen but its ideals live on
A mysterious link of chain... (Extended signature). PRAISE JEFF THE EVIL ROOMBA! REALLY cool video.
One of the Warlock Patrons on the forums. Low, low price of your soul, your firstborn child and your liver!
Titles: The Echoing Story Spewer from Drummer, the Endless Maws from Isis, the Mad Murderer from PJ
Crotalus carefully picks up the crown and examines it.
It’s weaved of thin, delicate branches, the same wood as Herionidus’ tree once was. But this one is covered in bloodstained thorns, both the blood of the old man, as well as Herionidus. The only living part of the crown are the several small, pale pink flowers, probably roses.
Will you bear the crown? Says a voice inside of Crotalus‘ head.
The gnawing feeling of starvation is a torturous experience that no creature can escape. It's like a chain that tightens around your gaunt stomach, relentlessly reminding you of your desperate need for sustenance. Your body craves anything to quiet the hunger pangs. The consequences of not eating are dire - your body wastes away until you succumb to death. However, even if you do eat, the insatiable desire for more food can be overwhelming, driving you to consume everything in sight.
From the Goddess of Life's body, the twin Godlings of Famine are born. Elise and Elias, The Children of Hunger. They devour their mother's carcass, their mouth stained red and hands buried deep within the writhing flesh. After they finish saying their hunger, they look around, confused as to where they are. With blood licked off their lips, they clasp their hands together, walking about.
"Forgive the mess, I am trying to regain my sanity again."
[Taken by my gourmand boyfriend]
They come across a goddess and four of her followers working hard in a temple
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
They watch with dulled pink and blue eyes, heads tilted.
"Forgive the mess, I am trying to regain my sanity again."
[Taken by my gourmand boyfriend]
Savut, reclined in her dwelling in the great tupelo, looks upon large clusters of what resemble minuscule specks in the swamp water. She smiles upon them, as they begin hatching. But these insect eggs are atypical. Emerging are small long-legged bugs with thin wings, and they are a strange reflective mottled gold. In an instant, the swarm of them begins to fly in the direction of Crotalus’s realm, only a few hundred or so staying behind. The plan was in motion.
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.
A human with bright pink hair walks over. “Can we help you?”
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
this is my domain. I am supposed to be the only one here, besides mortal creatures. why are there 2 other greater wills in MY domain? get out! both of you!
PM me the word tomato
The crown speaks, the words quivering into existence around it.
i can offer you… power…
"Thorns are a nice touch, Herionidus. Is that who you are? Are you his haint?"
Crotalus stands on the edge of his domain, watching the cloud of insects approach. This is a sight he is familiar with. As the god of deserts and famine, locusts swarms are commonplace. He observes to see if they are indeed locusts.
dead Herionidus is dead, but he shall live. I am his hate, the act of his murder given sentience.
"The world's a hateful place, I think you'll like the desert. I reckon we don't need more of it though." He turns his wide horned head to the man, "You mind if I hold on to this for a little while?"
The man nods, not paying much attention while cleaning his wounded hands (from the thorns) with water.
In a whirl of sand he disappears with the crown. He reappears in another whirlwind atop his Holy Mesa. His boots crunch upon the sandy stone as he paces along its flat, red surface with the crown in hand. "Howdy, Hate of Herionidus. Tell me, what is it that you want?"
revenge. It will bring only more pain into this world, but it is what is deserved.
really? you wouldn't merely compete with me? and you, funnel cloud, what say you. And one last question for you, crown: Are you really here, or are you being worn by someone named Crotalus in a desert? The same goes for you, old man.
PM me the word tomato
The world works in mysterious ways. The crown says.
the old man says nothing.
They are not. They resemble some form of thrip but with a proboscis.
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.