*stealing the magic of Hades? That sounds like something Baron Kremni might do.*
*That does, doesn't it? You may have just found the answer for the mystery. It would explain a lot about where he gets his powers because right now it's been kind of nebulous.*
*what a delightful thing. Baron Kremni, though I’ve never met him, has always seemed like a really cool character.*
*The Hollers of Hades in general is just so amazing. I’ve recently been in a very witchy, folk horror sort of mood (became obsessed with Crooked moon, I kind of want to make a Crooked Moon tavern) and the Hades Hollers just fits that completely, I love to hear about what you make for it.*
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This is TheFriendlyArchfey’s Alternate Account! “Your Dream Girl’s Dream Girl, Your Favorite Artist’s Favorite Artist.”
_-She Don’t wanna be anybody else, she’s a woman in total control of herself-_
_-certified Villainous Kitty Queen-_ _-somewhere in the gray area between an eldritch horror and a Disney Villain-_ _-Duchess of Dark Fey Vibes-_
“I believe the greatest act of rebellion in this world is staying soft.”
*stealing the magic of Hades? That sounds like something Baron Kremni might do.*
*That does, doesn't it? You may have just found the answer for the mystery. It would explain a lot about where he gets his powers because right now it's been kind of nebulous.*
*what a delightful thing. Baron Kremni, though I’ve never met him, has always seemed like a really cool character.*
*The Hollers of Hades in general is just so amazing. I’ve recently been in a very witchy, folk horror sort of mood (became obsessed with Crooked moon, I kind of want to make a Crooked Moon tavern) and the Hades Hollers just fits that completely, I love to hear about what you make for it.*
*No one has met him yet, but my party is going to soon. He is the current, biggest threat.*
*I really appreciate that! Good to know that my updates are enjoyed. I bought Crooked Moon (first Dndbeyond purchase) and have also been enjoying it. I would totally join a Crooked Moon tavern. Its been a helpful resource to help me find inspiration.*
He considers this, his candlelit eyes flickering. “And if you can’t?”
she nods. “This…. Has happened before?”
It is silent for a while. "...I have an escape hatch in mind for if that's the case. I'd never go into a plan without preparing for if it goes wrong."
"...A few times, yes. When I try to sleep... I just wake up and start knitting, but I don't really wake up." She seems more confused than anything, slowly continuing her knitting as she thinks, though she doesn't re-enter that trance. "It's... I don't know. It scares me... and yet... I... I almost feel like I need to do this... but I don't know why..."
“Oh? And what’s that escape?”
”well-… chances are, I could… figure out a way to stop this. If you-… if you wanted it to stop.”
*random question, did we ever decide if Adeline was her original name, or if Mother Moth had taken it when she had adopted her? Either could work, and if it isn’t her original name, it could lead to something really cool, where Mother Moth could reverse the transformation by giving Adeline’s name, her humanity, back.*
"Rejuvenation through placing pieces of my soul in vessels stored beforehand. If Amina's revival can tear my soul free from the Ravenous Flame, perhaps someone else could do the same if they already had a piece of my soul to work for. Though I might not need to use that- I have an ace up my sleeve." The god-swallowing blight doesn't elaborate further than that- a magician always keeps their secrets, after all.
"I'm... this might be the mental changes you were talking about speaking, but I... I'm... not sure I want to stop it..." She timidly responds, sounding unsure if she can trust her own judgement. "...It scares me, but... some small part of me... finds it hard to care about that..."
*I don't think we decided yet- but if we're choosing now, let's go with it being a name given to her by Mother Moth. That could be a fun way to restore her humanity- while it might not reverse the effects (at least, not quickly), it would stop them from developing further.*
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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 have about an hour that I can do it. I have the April Fish, the Librarian, the October Hare, and the King I think.*
*How about the King and the Librarian?*
Goto is in the library, coughing violently and spewing out soda as he stumbles, desperately looking for something.
A skeleton army is outside the keep, chopping down trees and rendering them into firewood as an armored man and a cloaked strugel watch. The servant is holding a tray with a thermos, two glasses, a small dish of marshmallows, and some chocolate snowflake cookies.
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Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
Helianth looks over these horrible undead beasts with a sense of contentment- these will work wonderfully for what it has in store. "These are wonderful. Again, many thanks. I shall not squander this blessing- you have my word." It bows slightly again to He Who Draws Blood From Stone, before turning one of its flower heads to address its newly-acquired horde as one of its crooked hands points to an old tombstone nearby. "Head through the ghoul gate here, and travel down the old cobblestone path until you find the second gate by the half-broken archway. Through that gate you will find my ship- wait there until I return. Do not kill any before I arrive- you will get your feast soon enough."
The vile things follow the orders with the excitement and loyalty of large, highly-trained dogs. His Lordship and his manservant watch the departing entities. The strugel seems unsure, but the death knight(?) shows no such worry. "Your Grace," begins the servant, nervously addressing Helianth, "have you any requests... or-or questions? If you are to attack Ghoul Country, some knowledge from a grand necromancer such as His Lordship would surely be of value to you." They fidget with their paws, clearly unsettled by the bonebeasts, their master's unspoken foreknowledge, and Helianth's willingness to use them,.
The god-eater thinks for a moment. "While I'm not going to attack Ghulheim any time soon, I do have a few questions." It starts, the gears turning in its mind as it develops its idea. "If I had a piece of one of these undead's souls, what would it take to bring them back to undeath should they perish?"
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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 have about an hour that I can do it. I have the April Fish, the Librarian, the October Hare, and the King I think.*
*How about the King and the Librarian?*
Goto is in the library, coughing violently and spewing out soda as he stumbles, desperately looking for something.
A skeleton army is outside the keep, chopping down trees and rendering them into firewood as an armored man and a cloaked strugel watch. The servant is holding a tray with a thermos, two glasses, a small dish of marshmallows, and some chocolate snowflake cookies.
There is the dry fluttering of feathers in the darkness before a tall thin figure appears in sight. It doesn’t move into sight nor has it always been there. Rather it is there unapologetically because it has more right to be there and just about anywhere else in this library than anything or anyone else. “You best not sog a single page of my collection.”
As a tree comes crashing to the ground, its leaves shake and shatter and are cast as arboreal refugees into the plane of air. The shed foliage gathers together in its descent and somewhere in that movement becomes a man. A King. To the strugel and man he speaks, “Who are you to cut and clear so near to the palace?”
The vile things follow the orders with the excitement and loyalty of large, highly-trained dogs. His Lordship and his manservant watch the departing entities. The strugel seems unsure, but the death knight(?) shows no such worry. "Your Grace," begins the servant, nervously addressing Helianth, "have you any requests... or-or questions? If you are to attack Ghoul Country, some knowledge from a grand necromancer such as His Lordship would surely be of value to you." They fidget with their paws, clearly unsettled by the bonebeasts, their master's unspoken foreknowledge, and Helianth's willingness to use them,.
The god-eater thinks for a moment. "While I'm not going to attack Ghulheim any time soon, I do have a few questions." It starts, the gears turning in its mind as it develops its idea. "If I had a piece of one of these undead's souls, what would it take to bring them back to undeath should they perish?"
The armored figure llooks faintly amused. The hooded one looks a bit excited suddenly, clearly about to talk about their favorite topic. "Well, first, just to get it out of the way, these are minor undead, and thus lack true souls. Think of them like marionettes: their pseudo-soul is like the control bar, while negative energy acts as the strings, and for these ones, you can think of a tiny sliver of the creator's soul as the puppeteer's arm. These are stronger than your typical undead of their type due to the strength of their pseudo-souls, but they still lack real hearts and minds."
They take a deep breath as a skeleton hands them a glass of water, which they down immediately before continuing. "Now, it would require you to have access to a powerful necromancer, specifically the one who created them. His Lordship, in this case. To truly bring back an undead is a difficult process, as opposed to just re-animating its remains with another pseudo-soul, but it would take that undead's necromancer effectively... well, going back to the analogy, imagine that an undead dies when its strings are cut, leaving the arm just holding the control bar, assuming that both the bar and the arm survived the event, which is necessary for this to work. So what you would think is, obviously, fix the strings, right? Wrong! You need to... well, that's where the analogy breaks down. You need to get the strings to try and fix themselves. Make the bar refuse to leave the puppet behind. Then you bring in a new length of unbroken strings, meaning more negative energy."
They take another breather. The lord pats them on the head encouragingly. "So, you bridge the strings with the new one, leaving the undead harder to control from the arm's vantage point. The pseudo-soul also becomes somewhat stronger in this case. The body and strings are still frail, but the pseudo-soul needs to have been very strong in the first place for this to work. A full soul might work, but it would have to be a very strong one. So, for a simplified version, you come back to His Lordship and he'll bring them back, but in general it's more efficient to make new ones. Does this answer satisfy thee, Your Grace?"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
Goto is in the library, coughing violently and spewing out soda as he stumbles, desperately looking for something.
A skeleton army is outside the keep, chopping down trees and rendering them into firewood as an armored man and a cloaked strugel watch. The servant is holding a tray with a thermos, two glasses, a small dish of marshmallows, and some chocolate snowflake cookies.
There is the dry fluttering of feathers in the darkness before a tall thin figure appears in sight. It doesn’t move into sight nor has it always been there. Rather it is there unapologetically because it has more right to be there and just about anywhere else in this library than anything or anyone else. “You best not sog a single page of my collection.”
As a tree comes crashing to the ground, its leaves shake and shatter and are cast as arboreal refugees into the plane of air. The shed foliage gathers together in its descent and somewhere in that movement becomes a man. A King. To the strugel and man he speaks, “Who are you to cut and clear so near to the palace?”
The witch stands to their feet, wiping the chin of their mask. "A-apologies." They choke out. "I'm afraid it's a curse of mine, and I have no one to retrieve tomes for me."
The armored man turns to look, but does not speak. "H-his Lordship," stammers the stoat, "simply believed that these trees could be restored with magic later and used for firewood now. We-" The armored figure looks down at the strugel, who quickly changes what they were about to same. "I, I humbly apologize for the actions of these skeletons. They were acting under..." The strugel begins to shiver, not from cold, but from fear. "M... my orders..."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
The armored figure llooks faintly amused. The hooded one looks a bit excited suddenly, clearly about to talk about their favorite topic. "Well, first, just to get it out of the way, these are minor undead, and thus lack true souls. Think of them like marionettes: their pseudo-soul is like the control bar, while negative energy acts as the strings, and for these ones, you can think of a tiny sliver of the creator's soul as the puppeteer's arm. These are stronger than your typical undead of their type due to the strength of their pseudo-souls, but they still lack real hearts and minds."
They take a deep breath as a skeleton hands them a glass of water, which they down immediately before continuing. "Now, it would require you to have access to a powerful necromancer, specifically the one who created them. His Lordship, in this case. To truly bring back an undead is a difficult process, as opposed to just re-animating its remains with another pseudo-soul, but it would take that undead's necromancer effectively... well, going back to the analogy, imagine that an undead dies when its strings are cut, leaving the arm just holding the control bar, assuming that both the bar and the arm survived the event, which is necessary for this to work. So what you would think is, obviously, fix the strings, right? Wrong! You need to... well, that's where the analogy breaks down. You need to get the strings to try and fix themselves. Make the bar refuse to leave the puppet behind. Then you bring in a new length of unbroken strings, meaning more negative energy."
They take another breather. The lord pats them on the head encouragingly. "So, you bridge the strings with the new one, leaving the undead harder to control from the arm's vantage point. The pseudo-soul also becomes somewhat stronger in this case. The body and strings are still frail, but the pseudo-soul needs to have been very strong in the first place for this to work. A full soul might work, but it would have to be a very strong one. So, for a simplified version, you come back to His Lordship and he'll bring them back, but in general it's more efficient to make new ones. Does this answer satisfy thee, Your Grace?"
The once-divine ghoul takes mental note of everything he says- its scheme will certainly be difficult, but this knowledge makes it the tiniest bit more doable. "Yes, that answer is very satisfactory. Thank you. These undead... should they acquire more remains to incorporate into themselves, would that make them stronger? Could I give them materials other than bones for a similar effect?"
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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)
The once-divine ghoul takes mental note of everything he says- its scheme will certainly be difficult, but this knowledge makes it the tiniest bit more doable. "Yes, that answer is very satisfactory. Thank you. These undead... should they acquire more remains to incorporate into themselves, would that make them stronger? Could I give them materials other than bones for a similar effect?"
The servant chuckles gently and without any malice or derision. "Well, I'm afraid not, that would be mistaking a puppet for its strings. A bigger puppet means it needs stronger strings, but without someone to add them the puppet might just snap the strings it has. Wow, this analogy is working better than I expected. I suggest if you want to use the 'Snowball' style of tactic, which does seem like the proper idea here given the tight corridors of Ghulheim, you bring us along. His Lordship could enhance the bonebeasts with more energy and I could install new parts for you."
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Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
The once-divine ghoul takes mental note of everything he says- its scheme will certainly be difficult, but this knowledge makes it the tiniest bit more doable. "Yes, that answer is very satisfactory. Thank you. These undead... should they acquire more remains to incorporate into themselves, would that make them stronger? Could I give them materials other than bones for a similar effect?"
The servant chuckles gently and without any malice or derision. "Well, I'm afraid not, that would be mistaking a puppet for its strings. A bigger puppet means it needs stronger strings, but without someone to add them the puppet might just snap the strings it has. Wow, this analogy is working better than I expected. I suggest if you want to use the 'Snowball' style of tactic, which does seem like the proper idea here given the tight corridors of Ghulheim, you bring us along. His Lordship could enhance the bonebeasts with more energy and I could install new parts for you."
"Ah, understood. I'm not the most familiar with how undeath works- my dabblings with it have mostly been trial and error. I appreciate your answers greatly- thank you again." It thinks for a while longer. "And what of magical enhancements? Would those help bolster the strings, so to speak?"
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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)
The servant chuckles gently and without any malice or derision. "Well, I'm afraid not, that would be mistaking a puppet for its strings. A bigger puppet means it needs stronger strings, but without someone to add them the puppet might just snap the strings it has. Wow, this analogy is working better than I expected. I suggest if you want to use the 'Snowball' style of tactic, which does seem like the proper idea here given the tight corridors of Ghulheim, you bring us along. His Lordship could enhance the bonebeasts with more energy and I could install new parts for you."
"Ah, understood. I'm not the most familiar with how undeath works- my dabblings with it have mostly been trial and error. I appreciate your answers greatly- thank you again." It thinks for a while longer. "And what of magical enhancements? Would those help bolster the strings, so to speak?"
"Correct!" They chirp. Lord Braafheid nods. The strugel continues, "I used to customize cadavers for His Lordship, but he found them too taxing on his negative energy stores to keep up as regular thralls, especially since they would eventually decay into misshapen skeletons. What I mean to say is, we absolutely can graft the dead together into stronger thralls, but once they're gone they're usually just gone. Bringing back such a creature would cost immense negative energy."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
The servant chuckles gently and without any malice or derision. "Well, I'm afraid not, that would be mistaking a puppet for its strings. A bigger puppet means it needs stronger strings, but without someone to add them the puppet might just snap the strings it has. Wow, this analogy is working better than I expected. I suggest if you want to use the 'Snowball' style of tactic, which does seem like the proper idea here given the tight corridors of Ghulheim, you bring us along. His Lordship could enhance the bonebeasts with more energy and I could install new parts for you."
"Ah, understood. I'm not the most familiar with how undeath works- my dabblings with it have mostly been trial and error. I appreciate your answers greatly- thank you again." It thinks for a while longer. "And what of magical enhancements? Would those help bolster the strings, so to speak?"
"Correct!" They chirp. Lord Braafheid nods. The strugel continues, "I used to customize cadavers for His Lordship, but he found them too taxing on his negative energy stores to keep up as regular thralls, especially since they would eventually decay into misshapen skeletons. What I mean to say is, we absolutely can graft the dead together into stronger thralls, but once they're gone they're usually just gone. Bringing back such a creature would cost immense negative energy."
"Understood- I'll do my best to not lose any of them unnecessarily, then. I have large ambitions in mind for them." The ever-starving wretch seems content for now as far as questions. "Thank you both immensely for your aid. Your contribution to my cause shall not be wasted, that I promise." It bows again, and starts to head back to the ghoul gate, its gnarled hand knocking on the tombstone's front.
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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)
Goto is in the library, coughing violently and spewing out soda as he stumbles, desperately looking for something.
A skeleton army is outside the keep, chopping down trees and rendering them into firewood as an armored man and a cloaked strugel watch. The servant is holding a tray with a thermos, two glasses, a small dish of marshmallows, and some chocolate snowflake cookies.
There is the dry fluttering of feathers in the darkness before a tall thin figure appears in sight. It doesn’t move into sight nor has it always been there. Rather it is there unapologetically because it has more right to be there and just about anywhere else in this library than anything or anyone else. “You best not sog a single page of my collection.”
As a tree comes crashing to the ground, its leaves shake and shatter and are cast as arboreal refugees into the plane of air. The shed foliage gathers together in its descent and somewhere in that movement becomes a man. A King. To the strugel and man he speaks, “Who are you to cut and clear so near to the palace?”
The witch stands to their feet, wiping the chin of their mask. "A-apologies." They choke out. "I'm afraid it's a curse of mine, and I have no one to retrieve tomes for me."
The armored man turns to look, but does not speak. "H-his Lordship," stammers the stoat, "simply believed that these trees could be restored with magic later and used for firewood now. We-" The armored figure looks down at the strugel, who quickly changes what they were about to same. "I, I humbly apologize for the actions of these skeletons. They were acting under..." The strugel begins to shiver, not from cold, but from fear. "M... my orders..."
He looks at the fizzling, sugary puddle of vomit, "Strange sort of... carbonated curse." He says. "It is probably better that you leave the retrieving of the books to someone else. Me for example. What are you looking for?"
"Magic does not restore a wood, it replaces a tree. You don't harvest the trees in isolation. Each one is entangled in an interconnected web. Not only do you destroy the tree, but also the insects in the wood, the nests in the branches, the fungus in the bark, and much more. Magic may regrow each tree specifically but it creates something fresh, new, isolated, alone, and empty. In time it will mold back into its environment, but you can never replace the old growth." The wind tears through his leafy mane and beard as he speaks and his candlelight eyes flicker wildly, "But trees are another sort of harvest. As the Harvest King, I have no desire to halt the reaper. I simply mean to warn you. Corn and wheat grows back each year, but a forest takes generations to harvest. Don't take more than your share."
*I can continue this slowly tomorrow if you'd like.*
The witch stands to their feet, wiping the chin of their mask. "A-apologies." They choke out. "I'm afraid it's a curse of mine, and I have no one to retrieve tomes for me."
The armored man turns to look, but does not speak. "H-his Lordship," stammers the stoat, "simply believed that these trees could be restored with magic later and used for firewood now. We-" The armored figure looks down at the strugel, who quickly changes what they were about to same. "I, I humbly apologize for the actions of these skeletons. They were acting under..." The strugel begins to shiver, not from cold, but from fear. "M... my orders..."
He looks at the fizzling, sugary puddle of vomit, "Strange sort of... carbonated curse." He says. "It is probably better that you leave the retrieving of the books to someone else. Me for example. What are you looking for?"
"Magic does not restore a wood, it replaces a tree. You don't harvest the trees in isolation. Each one is entangled in an interconnected web. Not only do you destroy the tree, but also the insects in the wood, the nests in the branches, the fungus in the bark, and much more. Magic may regrow each tree specifically but it creates something fresh, new, isolated, alone, and empty. In time it will mold back into its environment, but you can never replace the old growth." The wind tears through his leafy mane and beard as he speaks and his candlelight eyes flicker wildly, "But trees are another sort of harvest. As the Harvest King, I have no desire to halt the reaper. I simply mean to warn you. Corn and wheat grows back each year, but a forest takes generations to harvest. Don't take more than your share."
*I can continue this slowly tomorrow if you'd like.*
"I was told of a book that might be able to transmute my curse into... something more manageable." He wheezes. "I... wasn't told the name..."
The skeletons stop chopping down trees, moving to cut the wood they already removed without any pause or hesitation. The strugel nods profusely. "Yes, your majesty." The armored figure crosses his arms and looks down at them, unimpressed. The servant looks like they're about to cry. "We'll redistribute what wood we have to those who can't get it for themselves, and not harvest any more. W-we've already taken out share, I think." They look up at their master and sort of shrink a bit in the face of the unimpressed death knight.
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Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
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*what a delightful thing. Baron Kremni, though I’ve never met him, has always seemed like a really cool character.*
*The Hollers of Hades in general is just so amazing. I’ve recently been in a very witchy, folk horror sort of mood (became obsessed with Crooked moon, I kind of want to make a Crooked Moon tavern) and the Hades Hollers just fits that completely, I love to hear about what you make for it.*
This is TheFriendlyArchfey’s Alternate Account! “Your Dream Girl’s Dream Girl, Your Favorite Artist’s Favorite Artist.”
_-She Don’t wanna be anybody else, she’s a woman in total control of herself-_
_-certified Villainous Kitty Queen-_ _-somewhere in the gray area between an eldritch horror and a Disney Villain-_ _-Duchess of Dark Fey Vibes-_
“I believe the greatest act of rebellion in this world is staying soft.”
*No one has met him yet, but my party is going to soon. He is the current, biggest threat.*
*I really appreciate that! Good to know that my updates are enjoyed. I bought Crooked Moon (first Dndbeyond purchase) and have also been enjoying it. I would totally join a Crooked Moon tavern. Its been a helpful resource to help me find inspiration.*
*Either of you wanna RP?*
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
*I have about an hour that I can do it. I have the April Fish, the Librarian, the October Hare, and the King I think.*
"Rejuvenation through placing pieces of my soul in vessels stored beforehand. If Amina's revival can tear my soul free from the Ravenous Flame, perhaps someone else could do the same if they already had a piece of my soul to work for. Though I might not need to use that- I have an ace up my sleeve." The god-swallowing blight doesn't elaborate further than that- a magician always keeps their secrets, after all.
"I'm... this might be the mental changes you were talking about speaking, but I... I'm... not sure I want to stop it..." She timidly responds, sounding unsure if she can trust her own judgement. "...It scares me, but... some small part of me... finds it hard to care about that..."
*I don't think we decided yet- but if we're choosing now, let's go with it being a name given to her by Mother Moth. That could be a fun way to restore her humanity- while it might not reverse the effects (at least, not quickly), it would stop them from developing further.*
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)
*How about the King and the Librarian?*
Goto is in the library, coughing violently and spewing out soda as he stumbles, desperately looking for something.
A skeleton army is outside the keep, chopping down trees and rendering them into firewood as an armored man and a cloaked strugel watch. The servant is holding a tray with a thermos, two glasses, a small dish of marshmallows, and some chocolate snowflake cookies.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
The god-eater thinks for a moment. "While I'm not going to attack Ghulheim any time soon, I do have a few questions." It starts, the gears turning in its mind as it develops its idea. "If I had a piece of one of these undead's souls, what would it take to bring them back to undeath should they perish?"
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)
There is the dry fluttering of feathers in the darkness before a tall thin figure appears in sight. It doesn’t move into sight nor has it always been there. Rather it is there unapologetically because it has more right to be there and just about anywhere else in this library than anything or anyone else. “You best not sog a single page of my collection.”
As a tree comes crashing to the ground, its leaves shake and shatter and are cast as arboreal refugees into the plane of air. The shed foliage gathers together in its descent and somewhere in that movement becomes a man. A King. To the strugel and man he speaks, “Who are you to cut and clear so near to the palace?”
The armored figure llooks faintly amused. The hooded one looks a bit excited suddenly, clearly about to talk about their favorite topic.
"Well, first, just to get it out of the way, these are minor undead, and thus lack true souls. Think of them like marionettes: their pseudo-soul is like the control bar, while negative energy acts as the strings, and for these ones, you can think of a tiny sliver of the creator's soul as the puppeteer's arm. These are stronger than your typical undead of their type due to the strength of their pseudo-souls, but they still lack real hearts and minds."
They take a deep breath as a skeleton hands them a glass of water, which they down immediately before continuing. "Now, it would require you to have access to a powerful necromancer, specifically the one who created them. His Lordship, in this case. To truly bring back an undead is a difficult process, as opposed to just re-animating its remains with another pseudo-soul, but it would take that undead's necromancer effectively... well, going back to the analogy, imagine that an undead dies when its strings are cut, leaving the arm just holding the control bar, assuming that both the bar and the arm survived the event, which is necessary for this to work. So what you would think is, obviously, fix the strings, right? Wrong! You need to... well, that's where the analogy breaks down. You need to get the strings to try and fix themselves. Make the bar refuse to leave the puppet behind. Then you bring in a new length of unbroken strings, meaning more negative energy."
They take another breather. The lord pats them on the head encouragingly. "So, you bridge the strings with the new one, leaving the undead harder to control from the arm's vantage point. The pseudo-soul also becomes somewhat stronger in this case. The body and strings are still frail, but the pseudo-soul needs to have been very strong in the first place for this to work. A full soul might work, but it would have to be a very strong one. So, for a simplified version, you come back to His Lordship and he'll bring them back, but in general it's more efficient to make new ones. Does this answer satisfy thee, Your Grace?"
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
*Sorry, I have to leave.*
The witch stands to their feet, wiping the chin of their mask. "A-apologies." They choke out. "I'm afraid it's a curse of mine, and I have no one to retrieve tomes for me."
The armored man turns to look, but does not speak. "H-his Lordship," stammers the stoat, "simply believed that these trees could be restored with magic later and used for firewood now. We-" The armored figure looks down at the strugel, who quickly changes what they were about to same. "I, I humbly apologize for the actions of these skeletons. They were acting under..." The strugel begins to shiver, not from cold, but from fear. "M... my orders..."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
*All is good, we can continue some other time!*
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
The once-divine ghoul takes mental note of everything he says- its scheme will certainly be difficult, but this knowledge makes it the tiniest bit more doable. "Yes, that answer is very satisfactory. Thank you. These undead... should they acquire more remains to incorporate into themselves, would that make them stronger? Could I give them materials other than bones for a similar effect?"
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)
The servant chuckles gently and without any malice or derision. "Well, I'm afraid not, that would be mistaking a puppet for its strings. A bigger puppet means it needs stronger strings, but without someone to add them the puppet might just snap the strings it has. Wow, this analogy is working better than I expected. I suggest if you want to use the 'Snowball' style of tactic, which does seem like the proper idea here given the tight corridors of Ghulheim, you bring us along. His Lordship could enhance the bonebeasts with more energy and I could install new parts for you."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
"Ah, understood. I'm not the most familiar with how undeath works- my dabblings with it have mostly been trial and error. I appreciate your answers greatly- thank you again." It thinks for a while longer. "And what of magical enhancements? Would those help bolster the strings, so to speak?"
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)
"Correct!" They chirp. Lord Braafheid nods. The strugel continues, "I used to customize cadavers for His Lordship, but he found them too taxing on his negative energy stores to keep up as regular thralls, especially since they would eventually decay into misshapen skeletons. What I mean to say is, we absolutely can graft the dead together into stronger thralls, but once they're gone they're usually just gone. Bringing back such a creature would cost immense negative energy."
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
"Understood- I'll do my best to not lose any of them unnecessarily, then. I have large ambitions in mind for them." The ever-starving wretch seems content for now as far as questions. "Thank you both immensely for your aid. Your contribution to my cause shall not be wasted, that I promise." It bows again, and starts to head back to the ghoul gate, its gnarled hand knocking on the tombstone's front.
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)
*Started and finished in one day! Whoo!*
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.
He looks at the fizzling, sugary puddle of vomit, "Strange sort of... carbonated curse." He says. "It is probably better that you leave the retrieving of the books to someone else. Me for example. What are you looking for?"
"Magic does not restore a wood, it replaces a tree. You don't harvest the trees in isolation. Each one is entangled in an interconnected web. Not only do you destroy the tree, but also the insects in the wood, the nests in the branches, the fungus in the bark, and much more. Magic may regrow each tree specifically but it creates something fresh, new, isolated, alone, and empty. In time it will mold back into its environment, but you can never replace the old growth." The wind tears through his leafy mane and beard as he speaks and his candlelight eyes flicker wildly, "But trees are another sort of harvest. As the Harvest King, I have no desire to halt the reaper. I simply mean to warn you. Corn and wheat grows back each year, but a forest takes generations to harvest. Don't take more than your share."
*I can continue this slowly tomorrow if you'd like.*
"I was told of a book that might be able to transmute my curse into... something more manageable." He wheezes. "I... wasn't told the name..."
The skeletons stop chopping down trees, moving to cut the wood they already removed without any pause or hesitation. The strugel nods profusely. "Yes, your majesty." The armored figure crosses his arms and looks down at them, unimpressed. The servant looks like they're about to cry. "We'll redistribute what wood we have to those who can't get it for themselves, and not harvest any more. W-we've already taken out share, I think." They look up at their master and sort of shrink a bit in the face of the unimpressed death knight.
Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.
May each word that I speak be backed by each of my teeth.