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.
the old man says nothing.
I see... but if i were to fight crotalus, who's side would you be on? I trust only those who i know would never betray me. I can't yet trust you.
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.
“Don’t seem very considerate. Fact is, that’s terribly selfish but also remarkably self aware. Who do you plan on taking this revenge out on?”
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.
the old man says nothing.
I see... but if i were to fight crotalus, who's side would you be on? I trust only those who i know would never betray me. I can't yet trust you.
I would be on the side of whoever were to be wearing me, which will likely be the most powerful one. If you are powerful already, then my power should surely make you just as strong as the desert god Crotalus.
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.
“Don’t seem very considerate. Fact is, that’s terribly selfish but also remarkably self aware. Who do you plan on taking this revenge out on?”
the godless ones. Faltros. The Swarm. Those who helped in The eventual murder of Herionidus.
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.
“Well now, what’s this? Someone must’ve known my children were hungry. What a thoughtful gift.” He spreads his bony arms, lifting the flaps of his poncho wide. Out of the shadows of his poncho explode a screaming swarm of bats. Leathery wings tear through the air, sonic screams disorient the insects and illuminate the world for the bats. The flying horde spreads out wide, ready to hungrily devour the oncoming swarm.
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.
“Well now, what’s this? Someone must’ve known my children were hungry. What a thoughtful gift.” He spreads his bony arms, lifting the flaps of his poncho wide. Out of the shadows of his poncho explode a screaming swarm of bats. Leathery wings tear through the air, sonic screams disorient the insects and illuminate the world for the bats. The flying horde spreads out wide, ready to hungrily devour the oncoming swarm.
The swarm is soon dispatched with. Oddly enough though, some of the bats seem to begin acting a bit strangely as they return.
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.
"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.
“Don’t seem very considerate. Fact is, that’s terribly selfish but also remarkably self aware. Who do you plan on taking this revenge out on?”
the godless ones. Faltros. The Swarm. Those who helped in The eventual murder of Herionidus.
“Then what? Will your wrath be satisfied once you’ve hurt the ones who hurt you?”
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.
“Well now, what’s this? Someone must’ve known my children were hungry. What a thoughtful gift.” He spreads his bony arms, lifting the flaps of his poncho wide. Out of the shadows of his poncho explode a screaming swarm of bats. Leathery wings tear through the air, sonic screams disorient the insects and illuminate the world for the bats. The flying horde spreads out wide, ready to hungrily devour the oncoming swarm.
The swarm is soon dispatched with. Oddly enough though, some of the bats seem to begin acting a bit strangely as they return.
Crotalus stretches out a stark white hand and a bat lands on it, dangling upside down. He observes it closely, “Somethang not sit well in your stomach? Who sent this?”
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.
“Well now, what’s this? Someone must’ve known my children were hungry. What a thoughtful gift.” He spreads his bony arms, lifting the flaps of his poncho wide. Out of the shadows of his poncho explode a screaming swarm of bats. Leathery wings tear through the air, sonic screams disorient the insects and illuminate the world for the bats. The flying horde spreads out wide, ready to hungrily devour the oncoming swarm.
The swarm is soon dispatched with. Oddly enough though, some of the bats seem to begin acting a bit strangely as they return.
Crotalus stretches out a stark white hand and a bat lands on it, dangling upside down. He observes it closely, “Somethang not sit well in your stomach? Who sent this?”
The bat seems to be breathing poorly. The swarm seemed to come from the eastern regions.
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.
then I will be finished with my goals, and I will not crave any more revenge. But I am the essence of murder, so the violence will continue. It will be terrible, but suffering is all that can come from suffering.
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.
“Well now, what’s this? Someone must’ve known my children were hungry. What a thoughtful gift.” He spreads his bony arms, lifting the flaps of his poncho wide. Out of the shadows of his poncho explode a screaming swarm of bats. Leathery wings tear through the air, sonic screams disorient the insects and illuminate the world for the bats. The flying horde spreads out wide, ready to hungrily devour the oncoming swarm.
The swarm is soon dispatched with. Oddly enough though, some of the bats seem to begin acting a bit strangely as they return.
Crotalus stretches out a stark white hand and a bat lands on it, dangling upside down. He observes it closely, “Somethang not sit well in your stomach? Who sent this?”
The bat seems to be breathing poorly. The swarm seemed to come from the eastern regions.
He shakes his horned head slowly, “No count low down dirty varmint. Savut, this better not be you.”
A great buzzing sound begins to grow inside of him until he bursts into a swarm of locusts. The cloud of insect rises into the air in a roiling storm and flies into the swamp. It then flies back into the ponchoed form of Crotalus who drops from the sky into the marsh. “SAVUT!” He cries in a thunderous voice.
then I will be finished with my goals, and I will not crave any more revenge. But I am the essence of murder, so the violence will continue. It will be terrible, but suffering is all that can come from suffering.
“Again, that is remarkably self aware. I respect someone who doesn’t lie to themselves ‘bout the destructiveness of their actions.” He turns his hollow socketed gaze to the setting son that paints his desert sky red to match his stone. “I reckon those fools need to be stopped. They’ve caused a lot of harm already and minding my own business ain’t done a lick of good. It’s time for this to be over with an out to rest.”
Crotalus, the god of the desert, of famine, of struggle, and of honesty, takes off his cowboy hat and sets it aside. He then picks up the crown of thorns and sets it between his wide spread horns.
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.
“Well now, what’s this? Someone must’ve known my children were hungry. What a thoughtful gift.” He spreads his bony arms, lifting the flaps of his poncho wide. Out of the shadows of his poncho explode a screaming swarm of bats. Leathery wings tear through the air, sonic screams disorient the insects and illuminate the world for the bats. The flying horde spreads out wide, ready to hungrily devour the oncoming swarm.
The swarm is soon dispatched with. Oddly enough though, some of the bats seem to begin acting a bit strangely as they return.
Crotalus stretches out a stark white hand and a bat lands on it, dangling upside down. He observes it closely, “Somethang not sit well in your stomach? Who sent this?”
The bat seems to be breathing poorly. The swarm seemed to come from the eastern regions.
He shakes his horned head slowly, “No count low down dirty varmint. Savut, this better not be you.”
A great buzzing sound begins to grow inside of him until he bursts into a swarm of locusts. The cloud of insect rises into the air in a roiling storm and flies into the swamp. It then flies back into the ponchoed form of Crotalus who drops from the sky into the marsh. “SAVUT!” He cries in a thunderous voice.
From the waters, the serpentine goddess emerges, her lance held loosely. “Yes? How go the affairs?”
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.
“Well now, what’s this? Someone must’ve known my children were hungry. What a thoughtful gift.” He spreads his bony arms, lifting the flaps of his poncho wide. Out of the shadows of his poncho explode a screaming swarm of bats. Leathery wings tear through the air, sonic screams disorient the insects and illuminate the world for the bats. The flying horde spreads out wide, ready to hungrily devour the oncoming swarm.
The swarm is soon dispatched with. Oddly enough though, some of the bats seem to begin acting a bit strangely as they return.
Crotalus stretches out a stark white hand and a bat lands on it, dangling upside down. He observes it closely, “Somethang not sit well in your stomach? Who sent this?”
The bat seems to be breathing poorly. The swarm seemed to come from the eastern regions.
He shakes his horned head slowly, “No count low down dirty varmint. Savut, this better not be you.”
A great buzzing sound begins to grow inside of him until he bursts into a swarm of locusts. The cloud of insect rises into the air in a roiling storm and flies into the swamp. It then flies back into the ponchoed form of Crotalus who drops from the sky into the marsh. “SAVUT!” He cries in a thunderous voice.
From the waters, the serpentine goddess emerges, her lance held loosely. “Yes? How go the affairs?”
“Howdy. I sure do hope my fears are unfounded.” The mud squelches under his silver slurred boots as he steps forward, “You know where these came from?” He holds out his fist. His skeletal fingers are clinched tightly around a squirming clump of your thrips.
“Well now, what’s this? Someone must’ve known my children were hungry. What a thoughtful gift.” He spreads his bony arms, lifting the flaps of his poncho wide. Out of the shadows of his poncho explode a screaming swarm of bats. Leathery wings tear through the air, sonic screams disorient the insects and illuminate the world for the bats. The flying horde spreads out wide, ready to hungrily devour the oncoming swarm.
The swarm is soon dispatched with. Oddly enough though, some of the bats seem to begin acting a bit strangely as they return.
Crotalus stretches out a stark white hand and a bat lands on it, dangling upside down. He observes it closely, “Somethang not sit well in your stomach? Who sent this?”
The bat seems to be breathing poorly. The swarm seemed to come from the eastern regions.
He shakes his horned head slowly, “No count low down dirty varmint. Savut, this better not be you.”
A great buzzing sound begins to grow inside of him until he bursts into a swarm of locusts. The cloud of insect rises into the air in a roiling storm and flies into the swamp. It then flies back into the ponchoed form of Crotalus who drops from the sky into the marsh. “SAVUT!” He cries in a thunderous voice.
From the waters, the serpentine goddess emerges, her lance held loosely. “Yes? How go the affairs?”
“Howdy. I sure do hope my fears are unfounded.” The mud squelches under his silver slurred boots as he steps forward, “You know where these came from?” He holds out his fist. His skeletal fingers are clinched tightly around a squirming clump of your thrips.
“No, I don’t. Those creatures do not live here. I don’t think the flowers could support them. What are they doing? Are they invasive or eating crops?”
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.
Cogintius has eased back into a normal pattern, with the buildings all fixed and the people all healed. However, he's pondering what to do with the Godless Ones.
Faltros has sent off some devils from his underworld into the mortal realm, who wield dark magic they plan to give mortals.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Hello! I am a perfectly sane gibberer. Hi! :D
Locations are dead, the Temple of Potassium has fallen but its ideals live on
Cogintius has eased back into a normal pattern, with the buildings all fixed and the people all healed. However, he's pondering what to do with the Godless Ones.
Faltros has sent off some devils from his underworld into the mortal realm, who wield dark magic they plan to give mortals.
They come across a lone female human with bright pink hair wearing simple white robes, singing on a ridge
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
May the dice roll ever in your favor
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I see... but if i were to fight crotalus, who's side would you be on? I trust only those who i know would never betray me. I can't yet trust you.
PM me the word tomato
“Don’t seem very considerate. Fact is, that’s terribly selfish but also remarkably self aware. Who do you plan on taking this revenge out on?”
I would be on the side of whoever were to be wearing me, which will likely be the most powerful one. If you are powerful already, then my power should surely make you just as strong as the desert god Crotalus.
the godless ones. Faltros. The Swarm. Those who helped in The eventual murder of Herionidus.
“Well now, what’s this? Someone must’ve known my children were hungry. What a thoughtful gift.” He spreads his bony arms, lifting the flaps of his poncho wide. Out of the shadows of his poncho explode a screaming swarm of bats. Leathery wings tear through the air, sonic screams disorient the insects and illuminate the world for the bats. The flying horde spreads out wide, ready to hungrily devour the oncoming swarm.
The swarm is soon dispatched with. Oddly enough though, some of the bats seem to begin acting a bit strangely as they return.
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.
“Then what? Will your wrath be satisfied once you’ve hurt the ones who hurt you?”
*Can we try to cut down these quote chains? I’m on my phone right now and I have trouble doing it myself. It gets hard to read.*
Crotalus stretches out a stark white hand and a bat lands on it, dangling upside down. He observes it closely, “Somethang not sit well in your stomach? Who sent this?”
The bat seems to be breathing poorly. The swarm seemed to come from the eastern regions.
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.
*for Dark*
then I will be finished with my goals, and I will not crave any more revenge. But I am the essence of murder, so the violence will continue. It will be terrible, but suffering is all that can come from suffering.
He shakes his horned head slowly, “No count low down dirty varmint. Savut, this better not be you.”
A great buzzing sound begins to grow inside of him until he bursts into a swarm of locusts. The cloud of insect rises into the air in a roiling storm and flies into the swamp. It then flies back into the ponchoed form of Crotalus who drops from the sky into the marsh. “SAVUT!” He cries in a thunderous voice.
“Again, that is remarkably self aware. I respect someone who doesn’t lie to themselves ‘bout the destructiveness of their actions.” He turns his hollow socketed gaze to the setting son that paints his desert sky red to match his stone. “I reckon those fools need to be stopped. They’ve caused a lot of harm already and minding my own business ain’t done a lick of good. It’s time for this to be over with an out to rest.”
Crotalus, the god of the desert, of famine, of struggle, and of honesty, takes off his cowboy hat and sets it aside. He then picks up the crown of thorns and sets it between his wide spread horns.
From the waters, the serpentine goddess emerges, her lance held loosely. “Yes? How go the affairs?”
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.
“Howdy. I sure do hope my fears are unfounded.” The mud squelches under his silver slurred boots as he steps forward, “You know where these came from?” He holds out his fist. His skeletal fingers are clinched tightly around a squirming clump of your thrips.
*I just recollected that I have to be somewhere super early tomorrow so I need to go to bed now to get enough sleep. Howdy backwards.*
“No, I don’t. Those creatures do not live here. I don’t think the flowers could support them. What are they doing? Are they invasive or eating crops?”
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.
*g’night*
No news is good news…
I'll lay a white rose on the cold earth, knowing it that it has not claimed your soul.
Cogintius has eased back into a normal pattern, with the buildings all fixed and the people all healed. However, he's pondering what to do with the Godless Ones.
Faltros has sent off some devils from his underworld into the mortal realm, who wield dark magic they plan to give mortals.
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
They come across a lone female human with bright pink hair wearing simple white robes, singing on a ridge
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