Noel said
Mato will take all challengers!
As will Jordan. Speaking of which, I'll whip up that reply either today or tomorrow.
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As will Jordan. Speaking of which, I'll whip up that reply either today or tomorrow.
Was waiting for /anyone/ else to post. If no one does, I'll be sure to make yet another response post.
Still here.
"Like the filthy god of carrion that he is, the Devourer feasts on the torment of the damned. Following the wrath of the light, the rupturing chains, or the veils of dreamers, the Hungering One follows to yank the corpses from the victor and loser. The torment that follows is unlike any other, a living hell where one will never see anything again. Alone, they will suffer. Alone, in the darkness. Alone in the Void." - The Artificers of Hatred: The Princes of Ruin.
Arcturus, Estara
The stench of death, both human and demon, hung thick upon the breeze.
There were consequences to having such a battle, as there always was.
The malevolent force tested the edge of reality, prodding the increasingly delicate border between the empty world of Null and the rapidly corroding land of Anadara. It could taste the cumulative power that pulsated just beyond its grasp. Thousands of mouths salivated as they snapped on empty space, dreaming of the succulent flesh of human and denizen alike. With each passing snap of the jaw, the hunger grew stronger and stronger, forming an unending lust for the juicy morsels that paraded themselves in front of the Devourer.
The Endless Lord's prodding grew stronger, forming a faint beat against the edge of reality.
It intently searched for a host to explosively release his gluttonous presence upon the unsuspecting populace and their supposed survival.
Under the wings of the crystalline guardians, among the refugees of the now burning city of Arcturus, there lay a small boy. He had spent years in the city, always hungry and alone, making a living as a beggar. It wasn't a bad life, to be sure(He'd heard rumors about the wastes to the south, were the daemonic incursions of the Princes of Ruin was daily and varied), but this newest assault had brought to light the fact that he still wouldn't be safe, even then. All he wanted was another meal and a day without the constant threat of death looming over him like the Slaver Demons. Sighing deeply, he turned over and put his ear to the ground, half-halfheartedly expecting to hear the thrum of hoof beats as the forces of the damned came to claim them. He felt only the heat of sun-baked earth. He heard Nothing. Recoiling in surprise, the boy again turned over and met the eyes of an infinitely black thing that looked at him from beyond the veil. The child stared directly into the Void, and it stared back.
The corpse-host ruptured into a spasm of black gas, hissing violently as otherworldly shards of pure hunger and greed lanced out of the hole that was torn between the Void and the human's simple world, smashing into the nearest soldiers of Evarast. Swarms of tiny fangs fell on the surrounding people, stabbing and biting the assembled humans in a frenzy of hate and lust. The form of the child vanished behind a veil of dark smoke, rippling into a cloud of undistilled hunger and spite that 'looked' upon the assembled masses with only one thought on its alien mind.
The Endless Lord was hungry, and before him was a feast.
The pillars of black smoke that made up the wicked tendrils of the descended Prince blew forth in a frothing tide of all-consuming shades. Each of the humans had no time to scream as the Devourer's powers swallowed them whole. The entire square vanished in a pit of greedily gnashing teeth and swarming black blades, biting down on everything they could sink into, taking care to put the fact that the prismatic forces had gathered the humans all in one place to good use. The corpse grinned up at the angelic creatures, before reaching across his domain to bring one of his greater servants to the surface world. Even then, the heroic forces reacted as expected, hailing down lances of pure light that punched through the haphazard shield of dark matter and smashed the once-child into a messy pulp.
Even that destructive rain was not enough to halt the Devourer's plot, and the many mouths of the Wraith grinned in unison. The black substance that lined the ground bulged weirdly, sending rippled throughout the surrounding earth. Horribly alive forces writhed beneath the surface, pushing and twisting in a complex pattern of longing and pain, attempting to break through the barrier that cordoned of the land of Anadara from the apocalyptic lands of the Princes of Ruin. Each monstrous tentacle and tooth pushed and pushed, grasping and snapping at whatever they could find, before finally forcing open the gateway with a disgusting snap. The Warden's muffled cries became all to clear as the monstrosity was birthed into the world, snapping it's jaws around the falling corpse of the abandoned host. Tendrils whipped out and grasped at anything they could, latching onto the forces of Evarast and dragging them to the inky darkness of oblivion, recoiling only momentarily when the spears of light smashed into the exposed muscle.
The spears of fragmented light struck the great monster again and again, burrowing deep into the hide of the eyeless creature of teeth and flesh. Pungent black ichor flowed freely from the destructive wounds, splattering on the prismatic force weapons and corrupting their glow. Each new wound hissed and bubbled under the constant barrage, splitting open and revealing more teeth to bite down the devout and denizen alike, dragging all the more into it's foul maws.
The stench of death, both human and demon, hung thick upon the breeze.
There were consequences to having such a battle, as there always was.
The malevolent force tested the edge of reality, prodding the increasingly delicate border between the empty world of Null and the rapidly corroding land of Anadara. It could taste the cumulative power that pulsated just beyond its grasp. Thousands of mouths salivated as they snapped on empty space, dreaming of the succulent flesh of human and denizen alike. With each passing snap of the jaw, the hunger grew stronger and stronger, forming an unending lust for the juicy morsels that paraded themselves in front of the Devourer.
The Endless Lord's prodding grew stronger, forming a faint beat against the edge of reality.
It intently searched for a host to explosively release his gluttonous presence upon the unsuspecting populace and their supposed survival.
Under the wings of the crystalline guardians, among the refugees of the now burning city of Arcturus, there lay a small boy. He had spent years in the city, always hungry and alone, making a living as a beggar. It wasn't a bad life, to be sure(He'd heard rumors about the wastes to the south, were the daemonic incursions of the Princes of Ruin was daily and varied), but this newest assault had brought to light the fact that he still wouldn't be safe, even then. All he wanted was another meal and a day without the constant threat of death looming over him like the Slaver Demons. Sighing deeply, he turned over and put his ear to the ground, half-halfheartedly expecting to hear the thrum of hoof beats as the forces of the damned came to claim them. He felt only the heat of sun-baked earth. He heard Nothing. Recoiling in surprise, the boy again turned over and met the eyes of an infinitely black thing that looked at him from beyond the veil. The child stared directly into the Void, and it stared back.
The corpse-host ruptured into a spasm of black gas, hissing violently as otherworldly shards of pure hunger and greed lanced out of the hole that was torn between the Void and the human's simple world, smashing into the nearest soldiers of Evarast. Swarms of tiny fangs fell on the surrounding people, stabbing and biting the assembled humans in a frenzy of hate and lust. The form of the child vanished behind a veil of dark smoke, rippling into a cloud of undistilled hunger and spite that 'looked' upon the assembled masses with only one thought on its alien mind.
The Endless Lord was hungry, and before him was a feast.
The pillars of black smoke that made up the wicked tendrils of the descended Prince blew forth in a frothing tide of all-consuming shades. Each of the humans had no time to scream as the Devourer's powers swallowed them whole. The entire square vanished in a pit of greedily gnashing teeth and swarming black blades, biting down on everything they could sink into, taking care to put the fact that the prismatic forces had gathered the humans all in one place to good use. The corpse grinned up at the angelic creatures, before reaching across his domain to bring one of his greater servants to the surface world. Even then, the heroic forces reacted as expected, hailing down lances of pure light that punched through the haphazard shield of dark matter and smashed the once-child into a messy pulp.
Even that destructive rain was not enough to halt the Devourer's plot, and the many mouths of the Wraith grinned in unison. The black substance that lined the ground bulged weirdly, sending rippled throughout the surrounding earth. Horribly alive forces writhed beneath the surface, pushing and twisting in a complex pattern of longing and pain, attempting to break through the barrier that cordoned of the land of Anadara from the apocalyptic lands of the Princes of Ruin. Each monstrous tentacle and tooth pushed and pushed, grasping and snapping at whatever they could find, before finally forcing open the gateway with a disgusting snap. The Warden's muffled cries became all to clear as the monstrosity was birthed into the world, snapping it's jaws around the falling corpse of the abandoned host. Tendrils whipped out and grasped at anything they could, latching onto the forces of Evarast and dragging them to the inky darkness of oblivion, recoiling only momentarily when the spears of light smashed into the exposed muscle.
The spears of fragmented light struck the great monster again and again, burrowing deep into the hide of the eyeless creature of teeth and flesh. Pungent black ichor flowed freely from the destructive wounds, splattering on the prismatic force weapons and corrupting their glow. Each new wound hissed and bubbled under the constant barrage, splitting open and revealing more teeth to bite down the devout and denizen alike, dragging all the more into it's foul maws.
"Oh...?"
Careful planning and a predisposition toward matters of politics, even at this low-level, left only a small margin for Jordan to be happily surprised. For that, he was thankful to the younger girl. It was nice to be wrong about people if there was an unexpected advantage to that newly-gained knowledge. Especially if that meant that his proposed comrade was even better than he expected. Concealing his momentary lapse in focus with another well-regulated smile, the three-star thought for a moment before responding to her inquiry.
"...You are correct to assume that I have... other goals. However, they are rather simple, and I see no reason not to inform you of them." He carefully measured his breathing, making sure that he took long and slow breaths, planning each step as he paced back and forth in front of Mato. "In the most uncomplicated form, I want to get into the student council, for much the same reason that you want the coveted third star. What I want from you, and what you can expect from me, is a mutually beneficial arrangement." He waved a hand, attempting to come up with the correct wording for his proposal. "An alliance, if you will."
Jordan's pale eyes flashed as he elucidated, absently playing with the edges of his over-wide collar. "Scratch my back by supporting my rise to the council, and I'll scratch yours by pushing forth the recommendation that you be bumped up to Three-Star."
Careful planning and a predisposition toward matters of politics, even at this low-level, left only a small margin for Jordan to be happily surprised. For that, he was thankful to the younger girl. It was nice to be wrong about people if there was an unexpected advantage to that newly-gained knowledge. Especially if that meant that his proposed comrade was even better than he expected. Concealing his momentary lapse in focus with another well-regulated smile, the three-star thought for a moment before responding to her inquiry.
"...You are correct to assume that I have... other goals. However, they are rather simple, and I see no reason not to inform you of them." He carefully measured his breathing, making sure that he took long and slow breaths, planning each step as he paced back and forth in front of Mato. "In the most uncomplicated form, I want to get into the student council, for much the same reason that you want the coveted third star. What I want from you, and what you can expect from me, is a mutually beneficial arrangement." He waved a hand, attempting to come up with the correct wording for his proposal. "An alliance, if you will."
Jordan's pale eyes flashed as he elucidated, absently playing with the edges of his over-wide collar. "Scratch my back by supporting my rise to the council, and I'll scratch yours by pushing forth the recommendation that you be bumped up to Three-Star."
The Prince
Name: Tqueiphidalnachtiewnneohial-Nyeraemennepthaphtllaemyen, The Hungering One, The Defiler, The Wraith, The Endless Lord, The Devourer.
Domain: Greed, the Void, Emptiness, Gluttony.
Description: None know for certain what the creature that lurks within the darkest depths looks like. Some speak of a monstrous conglomeration of mouths and tendrils, larger than mortal comprehension and twice as dense as reality. Some speak of a black tower that is bigger than a continent, complete with gaping holes that cycle the power of the Endless Lord throughout his domain, smashing the prisoners against the currents of space and time. Some speak of of a lone figure, broken beyond repair, screaming forever into the blackness. Some speak of the colorless being that stalks through the chasm between realities, carefully sliding into the nightmares of gluttons and the prayers of bandits. All speak true. The Defiler is formless, and yet shaped by the belief of his worshipers.
Yet there is one claim that is as old as the ageless monster itself. Long-forgotten legends speak of a twisting mass that resembled a warping cloud of volcanic gas. It expanded without limit, and was yet empty of everything. All it touched vanished into the gaping maw-fiend, and all that looked at it saw only the end of infinity. This is perhaps the closest to the truth that the mortal plane could bear.
His range of powers is marginally small compared to the others, and almost all of it consists of spreading his vile gateways to the Null. The creature that lurks within the Void only spends time in the mortal plane though possession, and does not send his denizens unless there is a true emergency. Each time he descends on the world, the air around him vanishes into the oily black smoke that creeps around as if alive, devouring all that it touches in an ever expanding ring of darkness.
The Hungering One's purpose is incredibly simple in it's idea, and massively overblown in it's execution. Despite his constantly expanding territory, the Prince of Greed always hungers for more and more, striking at whatever location is his fancy at the time. He claims domain over everything he can get his shadowy teeth into, although he is especially hungry for the souls of the rich and gluttonous. He is also a notoriously difficult prince to worship, as he treats every soul with the same disdain. They will all fade away in the nothingness of Blank alone.
The Realm
Name: Null, or Blank, or the Void. Any of these names is adequately descriptive of the place that is both the home of Greed and yet the embodiment of the Defiler.
Description: Lonely. The world is as colorless as its master and bearer, and is populated by more things than there ever could be, and yet so empty that the incredibly vast, vacuum less space seems to extend into eternity without pause. All that populate it are the very few true denizens of the great Void, and the prisoners. Every single being never sees another unless by the Endless Lord's will, as the souls of the damned are chained several hundred thousand miles from one another, and yet sometimes they are simply pushed into the path of the Wardens.
The world known simply as Null is a prison. It spreads in every direction infinitely. All that enter it will never see another denizen of the place, unless by some twisted will of the Wraith. There is no landscape to the place, with the only features seeming to be the occasional fragments of a once great empire, now swallowed up and set several million miles from anything else. The only truth to the endless nightmare of colorless vacuum is that death will never come to those who suffer in the massive wheel of hatred.
In the exact center of the ever expanding sphere of nothing lies the Tower. The great structure is absolutely massive, complete with spiraling arches bigger than mountains, pillars that could swallow cities whole, and ever-spinning gears and hissing pistons that could crush the mortal populace to death in a single rotation of the eldritch machinery. It is in many ways the heart of both the Void and of the Endless Lord, eternally churning in the gravity-less vacuum that makes up the body of the beast. It is the exact center of the ever expanding realm of nothing, and is the place where Tqueiphidalnachtiewnneohial-Nyeraemennepthaphtllaemyen's alien consciousness resides. There is not a single soul that has ever been inside the great structure save the Prince of Ruin himself, and the only ones that ever see it are the great Wardens.
Denizens: There are only two kinds of creature held within the Void.
The Prisoners: The souls of that belong to the monstrous Defiler are chained to nothing and left alone in the vast blank emptiness that holds all of their brethren that they will never see. All the corpses of men and woman alike begin to fall into disarray, slowly but surely twisting in horrible ways as they squirm to escape the nothing that binds them. The result is a variety of twisted beasts of all shapes and sizes that have been driven to insanity, their only master the Null's constant ropes that bind them in place and force them to the Devourer's will. Being adjusted for the vacuum of space only makes them useless in the true world, thus violating any use for them in the conquest of the material plane.
The Wardens: Great monsters of teeth and tentacles, the Wardens patrol the vast expanse of space in a random path across the vanished cosmos, devouring all that they come across. The path seems randomly designated, but they have a funny way of heading for the souls that were the most rich in life, grabbing them and shoving them down one of the many maws that populate the huge monster's surface. Inside it is a living hell, burning endlessly as fuel for the greatest servants of the Endless Lord. They are unable to descend on the mortal realm, as much like their colleagues in the Prisoners, they are adjusted for a gravity-less vacuum. However, they serve as defenders of the portals for the Wraith's powers, stuffing as many of their mouths and tendrils as they can fit through the gateways and dragging in as many things as they can find, friend or foe.
Name: Tqueiphidalnachtiewnneohial-Nyeraemennepthaphtllaemyen, The Hungering One, The Defiler, The Wraith, The Endless Lord, The Devourer.
Domain: Greed, the Void, Emptiness, Gluttony.
Description: None know for certain what the creature that lurks within the darkest depths looks like. Some speak of a monstrous conglomeration of mouths and tendrils, larger than mortal comprehension and twice as dense as reality. Some speak of a black tower that is bigger than a continent, complete with gaping holes that cycle the power of the Endless Lord throughout his domain, smashing the prisoners against the currents of space and time. Some speak of of a lone figure, broken beyond repair, screaming forever into the blackness. Some speak of the colorless being that stalks through the chasm between realities, carefully sliding into the nightmares of gluttons and the prayers of bandits. All speak true. The Defiler is formless, and yet shaped by the belief of his worshipers.
Yet there is one claim that is as old as the ageless monster itself. Long-forgotten legends speak of a twisting mass that resembled a warping cloud of volcanic gas. It expanded without limit, and was yet empty of everything. All it touched vanished into the gaping maw-fiend, and all that looked at it saw only the end of infinity. This is perhaps the closest to the truth that the mortal plane could bear.
His range of powers is marginally small compared to the others, and almost all of it consists of spreading his vile gateways to the Null. The creature that lurks within the Void only spends time in the mortal plane though possession, and does not send his denizens unless there is a true emergency. Each time he descends on the world, the air around him vanishes into the oily black smoke that creeps around as if alive, devouring all that it touches in an ever expanding ring of darkness.
The Hungering One's purpose is incredibly simple in it's idea, and massively overblown in it's execution. Despite his constantly expanding territory, the Prince of Greed always hungers for more and more, striking at whatever location is his fancy at the time. He claims domain over everything he can get his shadowy teeth into, although he is especially hungry for the souls of the rich and gluttonous. He is also a notoriously difficult prince to worship, as he treats every soul with the same disdain. They will all fade away in the nothingness of Blank alone.
The Realm
Name: Null, or Blank, or the Void. Any of these names is adequately descriptive of the place that is both the home of Greed and yet the embodiment of the Defiler.
Description: Lonely. The world is as colorless as its master and bearer, and is populated by more things than there ever could be, and yet so empty that the incredibly vast, vacuum less space seems to extend into eternity without pause. All that populate it are the very few true denizens of the great Void, and the prisoners. Every single being never sees another unless by the Endless Lord's will, as the souls of the damned are chained several hundred thousand miles from one another, and yet sometimes they are simply pushed into the path of the Wardens.
The world known simply as Null is a prison. It spreads in every direction infinitely. All that enter it will never see another denizen of the place, unless by some twisted will of the Wraith. There is no landscape to the place, with the only features seeming to be the occasional fragments of a once great empire, now swallowed up and set several million miles from anything else. The only truth to the endless nightmare of colorless vacuum is that death will never come to those who suffer in the massive wheel of hatred.
In the exact center of the ever expanding sphere of nothing lies the Tower. The great structure is absolutely massive, complete with spiraling arches bigger than mountains, pillars that could swallow cities whole, and ever-spinning gears and hissing pistons that could crush the mortal populace to death in a single rotation of the eldritch machinery. It is in many ways the heart of both the Void and of the Endless Lord, eternally churning in the gravity-less vacuum that makes up the body of the beast. It is the exact center of the ever expanding realm of nothing, and is the place where Tqueiphidalnachtiewnneohial-Nyeraemennepthaphtllaemyen's alien consciousness resides. There is not a single soul that has ever been inside the great structure save the Prince of Ruin himself, and the only ones that ever see it are the great Wardens.
Denizens: There are only two kinds of creature held within the Void.
The Prisoners: The souls of that belong to the monstrous Defiler are chained to nothing and left alone in the vast blank emptiness that holds all of their brethren that they will never see. All the corpses of men and woman alike begin to fall into disarray, slowly but surely twisting in horrible ways as they squirm to escape the nothing that binds them. The result is a variety of twisted beasts of all shapes and sizes that have been driven to insanity, their only master the Null's constant ropes that bind them in place and force them to the Devourer's will. Being adjusted for the vacuum of space only makes them useless in the true world, thus violating any use for them in the conquest of the material plane.
The Wardens: Great monsters of teeth and tentacles, the Wardens patrol the vast expanse of space in a random path across the vanished cosmos, devouring all that they come across. The path seems randomly designated, but they have a funny way of heading for the souls that were the most rich in life, grabbing them and shoving them down one of the many maws that populate the huge monster's surface. Inside it is a living hell, burning endlessly as fuel for the greatest servants of the Endless Lord. They are unable to descend on the mortal realm, as much like their colleagues in the Prisoners, they are adjusted for a gravity-less vacuum. However, they serve as defenders of the portals for the Wraith's powers, stuffing as many of their mouths and tendrils as they can fit through the gateways and dragging in as many things as they can find, friend or foe.
The Prince
Name: Tqueiphidalnachtiewnneohial-Nyeraemennepthaphtllaemyen, The Hungering One, The Defiler, The Wraith, The Endless Lord, The Devourer.
Domain: Greed, the Void, Emptiness, Gluttony.
Description: None know for certain what the creature that lurks within the darkest depths looks like. Some speak of a monstrous conglomeration of mouths and tendrils, larger than mortal comprehension and twice as dense as reality. Some speak of a black tower that is bigger than a continent, complete with gaping holes that cycle the power of the Endless Lord throughout his domain, smashing the prisoners against the currents of space and time. Some speak of of a lone figure, broken beyond repair, screaming forever into the blackness. Some speak of the colorless being that stalks through the chasm between realities, carefully sliding into the nightmares of gluttons and the prayers of bandits. All speak true. The Defiler is formless, and yet shaped by the belief of his worshipers.
Yet there is one claim that is as old as the ageless monster itself. Long-forgotten legends speak of a twisting mass that resembled a warping cloud of volcanic gas. It expanded without limit, and was yet empty of everything. All it touched vanished into the gaping maw-fiend, and all that looked at it saw only the end of infinity. This is perhaps the closest to the truth that the mortal plane could bear.
His range of powers is marginally small compared to the others, and almost all of it consists of spreading his vile gateways to the Null. The creature that lurks within the Void only spends time in the mortal plane though possession, and does not send his denizens unless there is a true emergency. Each time he descends on the world, the air around him vanishes into the oily black smoke that creeps around as if alive, devouring all that it touches in an ever expanding ring of darkness.
The Hungering One's purpose is incredibly simple in it's idea, and massively overblown in it's execution. Despite his constantly expanding territory, the Prince of Greed always hungers for more and more, striking at whatever location is his fancy at the time. He claims domain over everything he can get his shadowy teeth into, although he is especially hungry for the souls of the rich and gluttonous. He is also a notoriously difficult prince to worship, as he treats every soul with the same disdain. They will all fade away in the nothingness of Blank alone.
The Realm
Name: Null, or Blank, or the Void. Any of these names is adequately descriptive of the place that is both the home of Greed and yet the embodiment of the Defiler.
Description: Lonely. The world is as colorless as its master and bearer, and is populated by more things than there ever could be, and yet so empty that the incredibly vast, vacuum less space seems to extend into eternity without pause. All that populate it are the very few true denizens of the great Void, and the prisoners. Every single being never sees another unless by the Endless Lord's will, as the souls of the damned are chained several hundred thousand miles from one another, and yet sometimes they are simply pushed into the path of the Wardens.
The world known simply as Null is a prison. It spreads in every direction infinitely. All that enter it will never see another denizen of the place, unless by some twisted will of the Wraith. There is no landscape to the place, with the only features seeming to be the occasional fragments of a once great empire, now swallowed up and set several million miles from anything else. The only truth to the endless nightmare of colorless vacuum is that death will never come to those who suffer in the massive wheel of hatred.
In the exact center of the ever expanding sphere of nothing lies the Tower. The great structure is absolutely massive, complete with spiraling arches bigger than mountains, pillars that could swallow cities whole, and ever-spinning gears and hissing pistons that could crush the mortal populace to death in a single rotation of the eldritch machinery. It is in many ways the heart of both the Void and of the Endless Lord, eternally churning in the gravity-less vacuum that makes up the body of the beast. It is the exact center of the ever expanding realm of nothing, and is the place where Tqueiphidalnachtiewnneohial-Nyeraemennepthaphtllaemyen's alien consciousness resides. There is not a single soul that has ever been inside the great structure save the Prince of Ruin himself, and the only ones that ever see it are the great Wardens.
Denizens: There are only two kinds of creature held within the Void.
The Prisoners: The souls of that belong to the monstrous Defiler are chained to nothing and left alone in the vast blank emptiness that holds all of their brethren that they will never see. All the corpses of men and woman alike begin to fall into disarray, slowly but surely twisting in horrible ways as they squirm to escape the nothing that binds them. The result is a variety of twisted beasts of all shapes and sizes that have been driven to insanity, their only master the Null's constant ropes that bind them in place and force them to the Devourer's will. Being adjusted for the vacuum of space only makes them useless in the true world, thus violating any use for them in the conquest of the material plane.
The Wardens: Great monsters of teeth and tentacles, the Wardens patrol the vast expanse of space in a random path across the vanished cosmos, devouring all that they come across. The path seems randomly designated, but they have a funny way of heading for the souls that were the most rich in life, grabbing them and shoving them down one of the many maws that populate the huge monster's surface. Inside it is a living hell, burning endlessly as fuel for the greatest servants of the Endless Lord. They are unable to descend on the mortal realm, as much like their colleagues in the Prisoners, they are adjusted for a gravity-less vacuum. However, they serve as defenders of the portals for the Wraith's powers, stuffing as many of their mouths and tendrils as they can fit through the gateways and dragging in as many things as they can find, friend or foe.
Name: Tqueiphidalnachtiewnneohial-Nyeraemennepthaphtllaemyen, The Hungering One, The Defiler, The Wraith, The Endless Lord, The Devourer.
Domain: Greed, the Void, Emptiness, Gluttony.
Description: None know for certain what the creature that lurks within the darkest depths looks like. Some speak of a monstrous conglomeration of mouths and tendrils, larger than mortal comprehension and twice as dense as reality. Some speak of a black tower that is bigger than a continent, complete with gaping holes that cycle the power of the Endless Lord throughout his domain, smashing the prisoners against the currents of space and time. Some speak of of a lone figure, broken beyond repair, screaming forever into the blackness. Some speak of the colorless being that stalks through the chasm between realities, carefully sliding into the nightmares of gluttons and the prayers of bandits. All speak true. The Defiler is formless, and yet shaped by the belief of his worshipers.
Yet there is one claim that is as old as the ageless monster itself. Long-forgotten legends speak of a twisting mass that resembled a warping cloud of volcanic gas. It expanded without limit, and was yet empty of everything. All it touched vanished into the gaping maw-fiend, and all that looked at it saw only the end of infinity. This is perhaps the closest to the truth that the mortal plane could bear.
His range of powers is marginally small compared to the others, and almost all of it consists of spreading his vile gateways to the Null. The creature that lurks within the Void only spends time in the mortal plane though possession, and does not send his denizens unless there is a true emergency. Each time he descends on the world, the air around him vanishes into the oily black smoke that creeps around as if alive, devouring all that it touches in an ever expanding ring of darkness.
The Hungering One's purpose is incredibly simple in it's idea, and massively overblown in it's execution. Despite his constantly expanding territory, the Prince of Greed always hungers for more and more, striking at whatever location is his fancy at the time. He claims domain over everything he can get his shadowy teeth into, although he is especially hungry for the souls of the rich and gluttonous. He is also a notoriously difficult prince to worship, as he treats every soul with the same disdain. They will all fade away in the nothingness of Blank alone.
The Realm
Name: Null, or Blank, or the Void. Any of these names is adequately descriptive of the place that is both the home of Greed and yet the embodiment of the Defiler.
Description: Lonely. The world is as colorless as its master and bearer, and is populated by more things than there ever could be, and yet so empty that the incredibly vast, vacuum less space seems to extend into eternity without pause. All that populate it are the very few true denizens of the great Void, and the prisoners. Every single being never sees another unless by the Endless Lord's will, as the souls of the damned are chained several hundred thousand miles from one another, and yet sometimes they are simply pushed into the path of the Wardens.
The world known simply as Null is a prison. It spreads in every direction infinitely. All that enter it will never see another denizen of the place, unless by some twisted will of the Wraith. There is no landscape to the place, with the only features seeming to be the occasional fragments of a once great empire, now swallowed up and set several million miles from anything else. The only truth to the endless nightmare of colorless vacuum is that death will never come to those who suffer in the massive wheel of hatred.
In the exact center of the ever expanding sphere of nothing lies the Tower. The great structure is absolutely massive, complete with spiraling arches bigger than mountains, pillars that could swallow cities whole, and ever-spinning gears and hissing pistons that could crush the mortal populace to death in a single rotation of the eldritch machinery. It is in many ways the heart of both the Void and of the Endless Lord, eternally churning in the gravity-less vacuum that makes up the body of the beast. It is the exact center of the ever expanding realm of nothing, and is the place where Tqueiphidalnachtiewnneohial-Nyeraemennepthaphtllaemyen's alien consciousness resides. There is not a single soul that has ever been inside the great structure save the Prince of Ruin himself, and the only ones that ever see it are the great Wardens.
Denizens: There are only two kinds of creature held within the Void.
The Prisoners: The souls of that belong to the monstrous Defiler are chained to nothing and left alone in the vast blank emptiness that holds all of their brethren that they will never see. All the corpses of men and woman alike begin to fall into disarray, slowly but surely twisting in horrible ways as they squirm to escape the nothing that binds them. The result is a variety of twisted beasts of all shapes and sizes that have been driven to insanity, their only master the Null's constant ropes that bind them in place and force them to the Devourer's will. Being adjusted for the vacuum of space only makes them useless in the true world, thus violating any use for them in the conquest of the material plane.
The Wardens: Great monsters of teeth and tentacles, the Wardens patrol the vast expanse of space in a random path across the vanished cosmos, devouring all that they come across. The path seems randomly designated, but they have a funny way of heading for the souls that were the most rich in life, grabbing them and shoving them down one of the many maws that populate the huge monster's surface. Inside it is a living hell, burning endlessly as fuel for the greatest servants of the Endless Lord. They are unable to descend on the mortal realm, as much like their colleagues in the Prisoners, they are adjusted for a gravity-less vacuum. However, they serve as defenders of the portals for the Wraith's powers, stuffing as many of their mouths and tendrils as they can fit through the gateways and dragging in as many things as they can find, friend or foe.
Kathrine greeted her teammates with the same artificial sweetness as she'd given the farmer on the road. There were variations for each greeting, of course, such as an appraising stare at Isis and her water canteen, and a pleasant smile in return to Rinshan's glowing expression.
Internally, however, the young Overture was as spiteful as ever. Of course you're going to be hot, Southey, you spent the night in a furnace. She shifted slightly to shoot a icy glance at Dumont and his heavy clothes, trying to spot the place where the man must be keeping some sort of fan or ice-pack. Workaholic hardass, can't even show up on a day like today and show weakness. Of course not. Carbon and Isis were soon to follow, Kathrine's red eyes darting in between them. Creepy. Really needs to speak up more, act less like a zombie. Juneau has less of a stick up her ass, and that's saying something. They finally settled on the younger girl, flickering down to the canteen. ...As for the princess, she's about as mobile on the rules as this new girl is on stairs. And bringing up water, showing me up. Urgh. That left the two that she was undecided on. The new girl's sweet, really, but seems too gullible. Just perfect, actually. Although her lack of use is showing through. Felix is... Unnerving. Charming, but always twitchy enough to set me on edge.
Lost in thought, she nearly spoke the last line out loud in response to Felix asking about the weather. Momentarily surprised, Kathrine's ladylike facade slipped into the tell-tale expression of abject vacancy. Her perfectly made-up mouth slightly agape and her eyes searching desperately for clues, the Fae desperately tried to come up with words that formed a response to the boy's question. "Er, yes, of course, rather hot." She fervently hoped she hadn't started sweating again.
It was the commander's timely intervention that saved Kathrine from further embarrassment. She carefully listened to the mission, dismissing personal thoughts on the subject(If you're going to lose a kid, maybe you shouldn't be having them you old bag), before figuring that they'd be able to all split up for this mission. That meant no Juneau or Dumont breathing down her neck for taking a short break in one of the many pools of water that most likely held the lost little one. That was always a plus, as her rather stumbling answer was still a valid descriptor of the outside air temperature.
As the commander finished up and complimented Juneau(Like That ego needs stroking) about her forethought, Kathrine's eyes lit up as the albino girl thought up an excuse. "Well, actually I-" She was rudely cut off by Carbon's timely interjection. Somewhat taken aback, she fell back against her chair in a sulk.
Internally, however, the young Overture was as spiteful as ever. Of course you're going to be hot, Southey, you spent the night in a furnace. She shifted slightly to shoot a icy glance at Dumont and his heavy clothes, trying to spot the place where the man must be keeping some sort of fan or ice-pack. Workaholic hardass, can't even show up on a day like today and show weakness. Of course not. Carbon and Isis were soon to follow, Kathrine's red eyes darting in between them. Creepy. Really needs to speak up more, act less like a zombie. Juneau has less of a stick up her ass, and that's saying something. They finally settled on the younger girl, flickering down to the canteen. ...As for the princess, she's about as mobile on the rules as this new girl is on stairs. And bringing up water, showing me up. Urgh. That left the two that she was undecided on. The new girl's sweet, really, but seems too gullible. Just perfect, actually. Although her lack of use is showing through. Felix is... Unnerving. Charming, but always twitchy enough to set me on edge.
Lost in thought, she nearly spoke the last line out loud in response to Felix asking about the weather. Momentarily surprised, Kathrine's ladylike facade slipped into the tell-tale expression of abject vacancy. Her perfectly made-up mouth slightly agape and her eyes searching desperately for clues, the Fae desperately tried to come up with words that formed a response to the boy's question. "Er, yes, of course, rather hot." She fervently hoped she hadn't started sweating again.
It was the commander's timely intervention that saved Kathrine from further embarrassment. She carefully listened to the mission, dismissing personal thoughts on the subject(If you're going to lose a kid, maybe you shouldn't be having them you old bag), before figuring that they'd be able to all split up for this mission. That meant no Juneau or Dumont breathing down her neck for taking a short break in one of the many pools of water that most likely held the lost little one. That was always a plus, as her rather stumbling answer was still a valid descriptor of the outside air temperature.
As the commander finished up and complimented Juneau(Like That ego needs stroking) about her forethought, Kathrine's eyes lit up as the albino girl thought up an excuse. "Well, actually I-" She was rudely cut off by Carbon's timely interjection. Somewhat taken aback, she fell back against her chair in a sulk.
NewSun said
Yes and yes, provided further Princes diverge from the style of the current ones a little. We need some more blatant evil to balance all the quasipseudo-love. ;)
I understand. If I can get my ideas down right, that shouldn't be a problem
Is there room for another PC deity in this RP?
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