There are sinister strangers beneath us.
SepticGentleman
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𝙼𝚊𝚗 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙼𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚎
STATUS: I like the night liiiiife, I like to ɮ օ օ ɢ ɨ ɛ 4 yrs ago
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I like the night liiiiife, I like to ɮ օ օ ɢ ɨ ɛ
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𝕊 𝕢 𝕦 𝕖 𝕖 𝕖 𝕖 𝕖 𝕫 𝕖
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I feel a tremble in my temple
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He’s mastered the art of Simp Mode
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Jace haunts me dreams, blesses me nightmares, ye
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Bio
Is it?
Most Recent Posts
Somewhere in the mortal plain, under a sunlit sky, there is a stretch of farmland. Sprawling fields of green, forests in the distance, paths to town, and a barn and a house at the center of it all. Everything was perfectly normal within the scene, save for the barn’s stables being very much on fire.
There were men about. Poorly dressed, unkempt, foul-smelling… evil men. Not the simple evil of merely possessing a penchant for raping and pillaging, there was… literally, something evil within them. Seeping from their eyes, noses, mouths, ears, in the form of an opaque, black fluid. Some were riding their own horses around the grounds, afflicted with the same unsightly material - though it was much more apparent for them. Horrible, jagged wounds ran along their necks, with the fluid bleeding out of them and onto the dirt and grass profusely, leaving little black spots everywhere.
Something was alive within it. Squirming, writhing, desperately seeking something organic to… inhabit.
An unafflicted horse broke free and ran from the stables, only to be struck from the bolt of a crossbow moments later. It stumbled, falling, sliding on the dirt. Another horse, with two of the afflicted men riding it, quickly approached. One dismounted, approached the fallen, screaming horse, and brandished a knife. As the equine specimen kicked and neighed, the man gently inserted the knife into its neck and ran it down the length. But before the horse lied still, the man…
Vomited, into the wound.
The putrid black filth, crawling with tiny, worm-like creatures, quickly burrowed into the horse’s wound, spreading throughout its body. It struggled for only moments before, somehow settling, ceasing its movements while the man stood up, and watched it do the same.
It was one of them now.
Nearby, at the front of the house, there was another congregation of afflicted men. One of them particularly, seemed the leader of the terrible band. Tall, gangly, black-haired and pale-skinned. Even more disgusting in appearance, with bulging black veins spread about on his skin. In his hand was a long, serrated blade, almost cruel in appearance. His eyes, yellow and swollen, peered at the farmer who was down beside the door, crying.
“Just, just- please! Take the horses, take everything! Leave me and my family alone!” He called out. The leader, however, seemed none the sort for sympathy. He replied to him, in a horrible, guttural voice with an unseemingly jolly tone, backed by a fluid-stuffed throat, “We’re taking our pickings, don’t you worry. Your horses, they’re all very fine indeed… but we’ll need a bit more to, compensate for your initial failure to… work with us.”
“Anything you want! Just say it!”
“Well… saw your dog earlier… looked to have a good nose on ‘im. Could be useful.”
“Yes! Take the dog!”
“We will! Thank you! And, uh… well, your son, saw him out working the fields earlier too, he’d make a fine addition to our little posse. Young, strong, good at menial labor…”
“No, no, no, don’t take him, please I’ll-”
The man pressed his fingers against the farmer’s mouth, making a long “shh” noise. “Stop talking now, and that’s all we’ll take.” He said, “Cross this kind man’s heart.” The farmer did not say anything - only attempting to hold back tears as two afflicted men breached his home, and searched for his son and dog.
“It’ll be over soon, friend.” Said the leader, with a disgusting smile, “Trust me.”
Yigzavath was internally demanding that the rest of the Pantheon hasten their arrival. His hands were twitching, as were his arachnid appendages. Damn it, he had work to do. Why did no one else understand that simple fact? He was no slouch or lounger, he was a god with a job.
At least, that seemed his twisted way of saying it.
He darted his source-hidden vision around the area, scanning the other deities. Sombra, acting like a child nestling in Nahash’s lap. Dormammus going haywire on Erisbili. The Primals all talking silently, with Kilgarrah maintaining his downright annoying vigil.
Yigzavath continued to twitch patiently. He knew full well all he had the power to do now was wait.
There were men about. Poorly dressed, unkempt, foul-smelling… evil men. Not the simple evil of merely possessing a penchant for raping and pillaging, there was… literally, something evil within them. Seeping from their eyes, noses, mouths, ears, in the form of an opaque, black fluid. Some were riding their own horses around the grounds, afflicted with the same unsightly material - though it was much more apparent for them. Horrible, jagged wounds ran along their necks, with the fluid bleeding out of them and onto the dirt and grass profusely, leaving little black spots everywhere.
Something was alive within it. Squirming, writhing, desperately seeking something organic to… inhabit.
An unafflicted horse broke free and ran from the stables, only to be struck from the bolt of a crossbow moments later. It stumbled, falling, sliding on the dirt. Another horse, with two of the afflicted men riding it, quickly approached. One dismounted, approached the fallen, screaming horse, and brandished a knife. As the equine specimen kicked and neighed, the man gently inserted the knife into its neck and ran it down the length. But before the horse lied still, the man…
Vomited, into the wound.
The putrid black filth, crawling with tiny, worm-like creatures, quickly burrowed into the horse’s wound, spreading throughout its body. It struggled for only moments before, somehow settling, ceasing its movements while the man stood up, and watched it do the same.
It was one of them now.
Nearby, at the front of the house, there was another congregation of afflicted men. One of them particularly, seemed the leader of the terrible band. Tall, gangly, black-haired and pale-skinned. Even more disgusting in appearance, with bulging black veins spread about on his skin. In his hand was a long, serrated blade, almost cruel in appearance. His eyes, yellow and swollen, peered at the farmer who was down beside the door, crying.
“Just, just- please! Take the horses, take everything! Leave me and my family alone!” He called out. The leader, however, seemed none the sort for sympathy. He replied to him, in a horrible, guttural voice with an unseemingly jolly tone, backed by a fluid-stuffed throat, “We’re taking our pickings, don’t you worry. Your horses, they’re all very fine indeed… but we’ll need a bit more to, compensate for your initial failure to… work with us.”
“Anything you want! Just say it!”
“Well… saw your dog earlier… looked to have a good nose on ‘im. Could be useful.”
“Yes! Take the dog!”
“We will! Thank you! And, uh… well, your son, saw him out working the fields earlier too, he’d make a fine addition to our little posse. Young, strong, good at menial labor…”
“No, no, no, don’t take him, please I’ll-”
The man pressed his fingers against the farmer’s mouth, making a long “shh” noise. “Stop talking now, and that’s all we’ll take.” He said, “Cross this kind man’s heart.” The farmer did not say anything - only attempting to hold back tears as two afflicted men breached his home, and searched for his son and dog.
“It’ll be over soon, friend.” Said the leader, with a disgusting smile, “Trust me.”
Yigzavath
Yigzavath was internally demanding that the rest of the Pantheon hasten their arrival. His hands were twitching, as were his arachnid appendages. Damn it, he had work to do. Why did no one else understand that simple fact? He was no slouch or lounger, he was a god with a job.
At least, that seemed his twisted way of saying it.
He darted his source-hidden vision around the area, scanning the other deities. Sombra, acting like a child nestling in Nahash’s lap. Dormammus going haywire on Erisbili. The Primals all talking silently, with Kilgarrah maintaining his downright annoying vigil.
Yigzavath continued to twitch patiently. He knew full well all he had the power to do now was wait.
To the lovecraftian fans...
Ak'abs are a lovecraftian creature, described by a narrator "A creature who I can not recall, and must not."
likely some sort of demonic vampire moth thing that our favorite filth mongerer came up with with collab of the mad man.
Looks like the fuckchild of a housefly and a lamprey.
Working on Vorris' picture and I just wanted to remind everyone how much it sucks to get your neck caught in one of these.
<Snipped quote by dragonmancer>
Camel pirate? sign me up.
The fact that I have accepted the joke character sheet as my legitimate hero is kind of sad.
Don't fret. Reluctant camel enthusiasm is simply one of the many steps to true happiness.
I wonder if any heroes will Join the crew of Francis Drake to Pillage, rob, and burn Travel the high seas and spit at fate!
YOU'RE ASKIN' FOR IT, LIZARD BOY.
Nahargu'ul and Iuppiter
Written with @JunkMail.
At last, someone pleasant to associate with, at least by the Sea-Fiend’s standards. As Iuppiter took his seat among the three-out-of-four Primals, Nahargu’ul turned and asked him a relatively simple question.
“Excited?”
Iuppiter turned to the god he considered his closest brother and nodded.
“Very much so. I cannot wait to see the world again. It’s been too long.”
Iuppiter opened his mouth as if to say something, but hesitated. He thought for a moment, trying to find his words. He stroked his beard and leaned onto the arm of his chair closest to Nahargu’ul.
“And you? Are you excited?”
“Ah…” Nahargu’ul began, “I would be lying if I were to say not. But… I dread to say that I am expectant of a… less than pleasant state of things, upon our return.” He paused for a moment more, before adding, “Five centuries is nothing to us, but… to mortals, it is several lifetimes over worth of spreading their filth wherever they can. You recall the running waters full of refuse that I dealt with so vehemently?”
“Aye, I remember you being particularly angry with Yigzavath about it too.” Iuppiter said, his lips splitting into a wide smile. He imitated his fellow primal, waving his arms around loosely as if he was trying to be an angry octopus.
“Heh. True. But not all of it was the Filthmonger’s doing.” Nahargu’ul said, glaring a bit at Yigzavath, who simply had his rotten, hive-riddled hands folded over the table, twitching slightly, waiting patiently - and yes, angrily - for this deal to be done. Nahargu’ul narrowed his eyes and continued, “Much of it was on part of the mortals themselves. Tossing their waste into rivers, spoiled cargo over the sides of their ships… so much time without any intervention… it’ll look absolutely horrid.”
“I dont think it’ll be that bad. Nothing we can’t clean up.” Iuppiter said, ever optimistic. He thought on Nahargu’ul’s words for a moment before he added his own thoughts.
“Will be interesting if they manage to invent flight one day. Their air pollution from fires is small now. Hopefully we can get some… good habits into them.” he said. He looked over the sea-fiend once again and seemed to sense his worry. “If you want any assistance, I’d be happy to help in anything I can do. They all know how good we are at… working together.”
“I may beckon the occasional strike of lightning.” Nahargu’ul replied, reclining in his seat. “In truth… I’m not all so morose about it. Gives me… something to do, after all. Breaks the monotony of the ocean. At least, it will, for a time. Then, undoubtedly, things will settle again.” He sighed through his veritable beard of tentacles. “I’ll have to savor the years, I suppose.”
“Should travel with me some, when that time comes.” Iuppiter offered, his whole demeanor changing to a more hopeful one. He knew Nahargu’ul very rarely left water. Maybe a few new experiences could do his friend some good. “Mortal or not, they sure know how to cook!”
“Maybe.” Was the Sea-Fiend’s response, expressing what had to be a smirk with that unpleasant mess of a face. “Though you know my considerations towards the mainland. It’s just… so lacking in the freedom of open water.” Another pause. “Such as unpleasant as any god would feel, outside of the one place they hold power over. Though, saying that to you is…”
Again, he stopped. And sighed.
“Nevermind.”
Iuppiter reached over and patted the Sea-Fiend on the shoulder.
“The god of the sky walked the land like a man an era ago and will so again. Maybe the king of the sea should consider walking among our creations? They are after all, seventy percent water.” Iuppiter said, trying (and failing) to suppress the chuckle that followed. But it seemed the humor was lost on Nahargu’ul, who simply nodded in reply, and turned his head away, scanning the rest of the present Pantheon silently.
<Snipped quote by SepticGentleman>
That's grimrock 1... where you fight a giant mechanical one shoting cube.
Yeah, a Minecraft.
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