O . O . O . O . O
Form:
The progenitor of many monstrous creatures, Euphrates takes an imposing and twisted shape that strikes terror into the hearts of any that behold it. He has a serpentine bulk, but huge feathered wings unshackle him from the ground. Gigantic flaying talons take the place of arms or hands, suitable for ripping and destroying but not for fine crafting or more delicate work. His monstrous visage is crowned by feathers instead of hair; his eyes are two great dying coals that perpetually burn and seeth with fury, his tongue is long like a bird’s but forked like a snake’s and envenomed like a frog’s, and he has great jet-black teeth like jagged shards of obsidian.
Euphrates is cursed by his nature to forever bear serpentine scales, a fact that he greatly resents. He can shift away from his favored form into smaller and more humanoid forms when subtlety or a less imposing stature is called for, but the scales are invariably present. The bright feathers sprouting from him, and the ornaments that he sometimes wears, the robes or shadows that he might shroud himself with, are intended to distract the eye away from the monstrous scales. Though Euphrates finds his scales hideous and humiliating, they are a divine armor of sorts more impenetrable than any mortal-wrought steel could ever hope to be, and at least offer a great deal of protection.
Aspect:
Euphrates is the Great Venin, Miasma, Malignancy, Pestilence, Toxicant, Malediction.
He lords over the aspect of Poison, be it the venom that arrests hearts and thickens blood and darkens flesh, the substance that consumes a healthy mind and leaves on an addict that wastes away the shell of his own body, or a tumorous thought that grows and twists until it corrupts noble intentions into baser ones.
So, to elucidate: ordinary poisons serve Euphrates. Burning toxin flows through his veins instead of blood and noxious fumes pour from his maw instead of breath, and his body’s own venom is more deadly a substance than any other in creation. His venom is so potent that it can defile, weaken, and often dissolve even inanimate matter like stone, metal, or even glass flask. With these powers, he makes corpses of his enemies.
Drugs, alcohol, and other intoxicating or addictive substances serve Euphrates too. The desire and craving for such vices drags hapless victims into his service and worship, and into a vicious cycle of death and misery that can rarely be escaped. With these powers, he makes slaves of his enemies.
Doubt, envy, greed, malice, and the like serve Euphrates also. They are poisons of a sort, after all; however, their target is the mind instead of the body, and so they act slowly and less predictably, but perhaps are all the more insidious. Euphrates’ mastery over these spiritual poisons is weaker and not so absolute as his control over the physical manifestations of his aspect, but nonetheless, his presence and will can project lasting touches upon the minds of others. Those with a strong will can overcome these poisons though, and those who are especially perceptive may sense his corruption in themselves or even in others. Yet to sense his touch is not to cure it; warning a victim of his curse might help by virtue of their newfound awareness spurring them to action, but if they are not disciplined or strong of will, their psyche could still succumb. With these powers, he disfigures the very souls of his enemies.
Persona:
As befits his aspect, Euphrates is vitriolic. His temperament is a bitter and petty one; even the smallest of perceived slights is wont to provoke him to seek out dire vengeance. He is envious and possesses a deep inferiority complex; he would very much like to be loved or admired, but because he knows that his aspect and his scales will prevent any mortals or fellow gods from ever genuinely feeling such things, he instead contents himself with sowing terror and inspiring fear.
In his interactions with others, he will often fish for praise. If he receives it, he often finds himself in a magnanimous and kind mood… for a time. Nicely asking him to curse one’s enemies or cure the poisons that ail another can work, provided that he is lavished with enough praise and the compliments feel genuine enough that he doesn’t feel blatantly manipulated. Looking too closely at his scales, let alone remarking upon them, is a surefire and quick way to trigger a bout of explosive anger from the Great Venin.
Myth:
Okblog was a mighty troll. He lived under a bridge and robbed stupid merchants that tried to cross his river. One day a fat man crossed hauling a whole wagon full of apples. Okblog bashed that fat man and took all of the apples, but his bashing was so vigorous and bashing that he accidentally smashed some of the apples too.
After he ate the merchant and the apples that hadn’t been squashed, he flipped the wagon over the bridge and went to sleep. The ambushing and bashing continued for many days to come, but eventually the wagon started to stink of rotting fruit. When Okblog went to inspect it, he saw some of the mashed apples still clinging to the planks. He poked one, and it was like jelly. A strange biting and cloying smell filled the air, and when Okblog licked his finger, there was a very strange apply taste indeed. Before he knew what he was doing, Okblog found himself licking the rest of the fermented apple juice off the wagon’s wooden boards.
Okblog had a crisis of faith that day and decided to stop ambushing merchants. Instead, he followed the path that led to his bridge, searching for wherever that one wagon-bearing merchant had found the mystical red fruits. He journeyed for many days, dreaming of the delicious juice by night and bashing those that he came across by day. Flesh no longer seemed to taste so sweet, though. The world, once so bright, now seemed withered and gray.
When he finally came upon an apple orchard, the troll should have bashed the farmers who lived there in their hut, but the apples were too tempting. They glowed like great glistening red rubies in the sun. He snatched a thousand of them from the trees, left them one giant heap, and then jumped on top of it. He bashed and smashed the apples with both his hands and his feet, then he paced around the pulverized heap all day, his mouth watering at the thought of finally having more cider. He was so consumed by his vision that he didn’t even notice the farmhand that had seen him, didn’t even hear the armored knights stomping down the road as they came in search of him.
Musical Theme:
((I read the OP thoroughly))
((I read the OP thoroughly))
