Thread #6394137
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''He was many a thing to many a person. The wise mentor, who helped the hero on his way; the able wizard, always able to conjure up new tricks and spells; the trustworthy advisor, there to guide the king or queen on their way to greatness; the beloved courtier, whose suggestions always won favour at court; the loyal friend, who stood by through thick and thin; the compassionate healer, who tended to the sick and wounded with care and skill. All of these were masks in one way or the other, and though many spoke of him, none knew him.
He was a king, a priest, a merchant and a sorcerer, and yet he was also the dirty man toiling in the fields and the cutthroat lurking in the alleyway. A thousand roles, and yet he always came back with another: the elven prince, the dwarven master craftsman, the orc warchief, the hooded stranger. He was the priest of the sun god in the sweltering jungles of the south and the incarnation of the winter king in the taiga of the frigid north.
But what lay beneath? But a malevolence unrivalled, a desire to impose order upon all life, to make this world rigid and unyielding to his whims. And he played his parts well; sometimes he arose, deceived a people into worshipping him, and made their land, their people, and their culture but a part of his vision.
Coalition-building might have been his true strength, both in his favour and against him. His efforts led him far, building an empire that stretched from the jungles over the deserts and steppes to the ice caps. From east to west, from north to south, nowhere was truly safe from his reach.
And at the centre of it all lay a place most desolate, a blighted landscape, where nought stood but a dark tower. Here he planned, coordinated, plotted and sat upon his throne, in between leading his dark hosts or going out to conduct his eldritch plans and rituals elsewhere.''
https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=The%20Shad ow%20Rises%20Anew
The deed was done; a rebellion had been squashed once again, their cavern home rendered uninhabitable by your own toxic fumes. Part of you had wished to crawl through, rip the little leader from his hiding hole, and eat him wholesale.
But you elected not to; no, instead you made certain that if there were those who had survived, they would never see the sky again, nor would they hew their way out, for you melted the stone shut. When you finally got out of the caverns, the mountain partially caved in, sealing off any chance of escape for the rebels.
But it was inevitable, was it not? Such is the fate of all those who oppose you; nobody would remember this place, the peasant might for the rest of their short, miserable lives, but they will die, and a century from now, there will be naught in remembrance but your past conquests, nothing in the present but your edicts and decrees, and the future to be filled with future glory.
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>>6394137
You had had enough of mountains and dry land; you had rooted out the last simmering embers of resistance, and now only the dregs would need to be killed, which you intended to leave for your subordinates.
Flying back, you held counsel with the rest of your war council; the sultan would be informed, and he would be pleased. Though at the same time, he was growing weary of your usual justifications in finding his lost siblings; he was growing depressed and withdrawn.
This, of course, worked in your favour, as you whittled away at his authority, positioning yourself as the true power behind the throne. Unfortunately, you had been busy with war, and while your cronies at court were good at keeping the sultan distracted, you hadn't handpicked a successor.
Then again, you didn't consider Qasim to be that frail, and while his children were young, they showed promise, some of them did, though whether you wanted a second Qasim or someone else to pose as a figurehead, you hadn't decided upon yet.
No, your first priority was your secret laboratory, where fruits of your labour and research had finally hatched. Naga, or Lamia, the fusion of man and snake, an unholy creation that would assume leadership of the snake cults on your behalf when they were of age. A reasonable attraction rate, you presumed, of the original twelve, only three had failed to hatch.
"A reasonable rate of failure, though I expect future incubations and hatchings to have a higher success rate." You dictated to your main assistant, and general beast of burden: Erassyl.
"Yes, my lord." She answered.
You watched them closely, infants still, with patches of scales on the human part here and here, as well as the eyes. At the same time, their tails were in varying colours and coats, which you found interesting, perhaps something else to consider for future experiments.
You considered two options, either you would have them raised together, to create a bond of kinship among them, and to make certain they would work together in managing your cults on your behalf
Or you could ship them out right away to be raised among the cult assigned to them, and then they learn and adapt local customs, and keeping them separate would also keep them from plotting against you.
>It is best these creatures be kept together; they shall form a shadow cabal in the future and must be raised as a group, not individually.
>Keeping them separate cripples their ability to plot against me, and the decentralized nature of the cult is part of its strength.
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>The deed was done; a rebellion had been squashed once again, their cavern home rendered uninhabitable by your own toxic fumes.
this quest needs a villain! it needs...
>>6394139
>Keeping them separate cripples their ability to plot against me, and the decentralized nature of the cult is part of its strength.
we don't need a concentrated host; we have ourselves for that. what we need is many hands in many different places
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No, these would be clever little snakemen (and women). And while you would have them raised to regard you as a god, you knew better than to blindly trust in them. That was a mistake made both by you and others before, and in spite of it all, you were able to learn from previous mistakes. Not that you would ever admit to making mistakes in the first place.
You waited about three months for the babes to grow; you had them weaned on both milk and snake venom to ensure they got a healthy diet for both of their halves. Before the time would come, on a dark night, you had them wrapped in blankets and given to riders, who would in turn bring them to the snake cults.
You had made certain to inform them ahead of time, sending dreams and visions to ensure they would accept these children as their chosen ones. As the riders disappeared into the night, you couldn't help but smile. It was almost like the good old days, where your creatures could terrorise the land with naught but your iron hand to rein them in.
You returned inside shortly afterwards; evil never rests after all, and diligence is a virtue, even among the free peoples. The laboratory was more or less your home; outside your quarters in the palace, this place was the one you could truly call your own.
Aside from prisoners, you also kept your most fanatical private troops here as guards and protectors of your most valuable experiments. The faint hum of machinery and the occasional screech of a creature in pain filled the air as you came back to the desk to begin a new experiment.
You had about seven princes left, but even in spite of your best efforts, the prison life was begging to wear them out. No amount of mandatory sun hours and good meals could keep them in top condition; you did turn one into a proto-snakeman, but you were considering having him killed. Kingsblood is the most potent of all bloodlines. And you would soon find new purpose for them.
As to the princesses, you had three of them; two were Qasim's sisters, and the third was the former Princess Malidwa, whom you had kidnapped on her wedding day. But as your guards told you, she was growing mad, flying into animalistic rages when you showed yourself, often needing to be restrained to keep her from causing harm to herself or others.
She had a violence to her that neither Elyssa, Samdarda, Nafiri nor even Mortharn were capable of. Though in the case of Mortharn, you suppose that he isn't capable of feeling bloodlust, or anything at all, really.
But as you began pondering your next steps, it would be time for the next step in rebuilding your strength, whether it be through your minions, new allies, or by increasing your own strength once more. There were matters in the capital which required your attention, so your lab underlings would prepare for the next great experiment or ritual.
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>>6394587
As to Malidwa, what should be done with her?
>Let her rot; I shall reuse her later.
>Such a defiant young maid, bring her to the rack, break her spirit.
>Oh, you wish for revenge? I shall give it, but not against me; you shall be reforged.
What should your lab minions turn their attentions to next?
>Prepare a suit of armour for my designs; Mortharn is deserving of a little brother.
>Create a grand pyre and ritual runes; I desire to bargain with the powers below.
>Have them lay the groundwork for a great siege engine to complete your conquests.
>Leave behind alchemical notes for them to develop into the liquid breath of the dragon.
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Such vigour, such violence, admirable traits for one of the feebler sex. She isn't like your previous underlings; Samarda and Nafiri were urchins, aware of the lot in life and capable of hiding their misgivings and emotions. But this one is a princess born high, pampered and used to getting what she wants. With not a care in the world.
At least not until you came along; you crashed her wedding and killed the groom, in-laws, and actual family. Threw her into the deepest, darkest, dankest dungeon one could find in a desert and left her to stew for some months.
Probing into her soul and mindscape did reveal an almost consuming thirst for vengeance, dreaming about tearing the dragon's wings off, pulling out his claws, and other such gruesome acts of retribution. Fire burnt in brown eyes as she scowled and snarled whenever you came by.
The guards had stolen most of her jewellery and left her essentially with only the clothes on her back. Which were getting dirty and tattered. Three escape attempts, of which were foiled, and a bunch of other incidents were tried to either harm the guards, herself, or her fellow prisoners.
A situation which you would rectify with utmost haste; such hatred and fury are useful; they need but be directed towards more productive channels. Now you're not going to hold an anger management session; that would be a waste of your time, and she was but a frail, mortal human, not even all that deadly. But all that is about to change.
You had been waiting to perform such an operation before; Samarda was tempted, Simbar transformed, and Nafiri had been raised from birth to be loyal to you, but you did have more brutal methods to enforce compliance from your underlings. And you were very good at recycling your defeated enemies, in one way or another. And you could be very creative in your methods.
>Kill her, raise her, kill her again if need be, and eventually bind her. The undead lacked the frailty of the living.
>Vengeance? Thou wishest for vengeance? Then I shall introduce thee to a spirit of vengeance. With whom thou shalst share thy body
>Mine blood holdeth corruptive properties; a small transfusion of it shall ensnare her and make her tougher besides.
>Rip out her heart to be replaced with a demonic or other outsider's heart that shall grant her power in exchange for eternal loyalty to you.
As for your other project, while this facility had been designed for biological and arcane research and production, there was an engineering side to it as well, one which you had used to produce some superior weapons, mostly small arms and other enchanted weapons. But it has remained out of the limelight until now.
That was to be changed for the next campaign, the one which would go west, into the most formidable sultanate yet. With them out of the way, the west would be open, though you knew it wouldn't be so simple.
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>>6394838
Rumours had been circulating that the Azamoranids had been in talks with their old enemies, for the first time, the gaze of the west was turned upon your puppet state. And you knew they would come to aid them, so you would need a leg-up, something to lie low and slight fortresses and walls. To breach and destroy something great, something forged and enchanted in the hottest flames. Born of metal and magic.
>A great battering ram, spitting acid and flames, able to melt and break walls and gates
>A trebuchet, accurate and deadly, able to shoot projectiles with precision and force, demolishing any obstacle in its path.
>A tube of copper, to be filled with black powder, to be filled with stones, or, deadlier metal balls.
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You had employed gunpowder before, when you blew the palace Malidwa was staying in to smithereens. That was a simple barrel and fuse sort of plan, but there are more advanced means of using it.
A great barrel of metal, cast from something like copper, would serve to push the force of the gunpowder into a more useful manner. Your labourers therefore dug a pit for the barrel to be cast into, while others went out to fetch the copper required. While a great melting pot was made ready as well.
You didn't expect them to succeed on the first attempt; some would be too frail, others too heavy, or the copper would be too impure, but it mattered little. The kinks would be beaten out eventually, and the wonderful part about metal was that one could always melt it down.
The real tricky part would be to introduce your apprentice alchemists to the safe production of the gunpowder, but that could wait.
For you had another brilliant idea that, like a shooting star, flew across your mind. As the princess was dragged into the chamber, you began to prepare the necessary tools and spells.
"Beast! Monster! Release me so I might rip you limb from limb!" She screamed at you, but you paid her no heed.
"Thou shouldst not worry, mine dear, for I, in my infinite generosity, have decided to release thee from thy suffering," you calmly announced.
This momentarily knocked the wind out of whatever she was going to say, surprise and confusion taking over her expression. It was but a momentary reprieve, for her tantrums flared up again when she was bound on the operation table.
"Of course, with a release from thy suffering, I do not mean a release from imprisonment or my own demise but a different release for thee. Free from both free will and the distractions of mortal life." You slowly began to approach the bound princess.
These words did not calm her down, far from it; in fact, they only served to increase her panic and fury. You reached out with one hand and cast the spell that would spell her doom. You did it quickly and cleanly, ensuring the body was intact for what was to come next.
Next, you peered beyond the veil to see the unseeable, and you caught and bound her soul as it was leaving the body. There would be no afterlife for her; no, she would be on the dreary world for some time longer.
Unlife can be such a thrill; a mere zombie she would not be, that would be a waste of the royal blood, and besides, you could raise chaff like that by the dozen. No, this creature shall be more refined than that.
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>>6395270
>Nevermore shall you be seen, though touch shall be felt; invisible you shall remain, only to be seen via the clothes you wear.
>Balm and wrap her up to be thrown into a sarcophagus, a key to open the secrets of long-dead kings and queens.
>You shall have the blood you crave; taste it, savour it, and know it shall be what keeps you alive.
>I shall deny you thouch, for you aren't worhty of it, nay, you shall go through men and stone, but the mortal world shall remain out of your reach forevermore.
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Enough time had passed. While you temporarily bound her soul to a crystal, you began preparations with her corpse. First, you drained out the last blood still circulating in her veins. Ordinarily, only vampires can create other vampires, but you are older than even the first vampire and know what is required to create new ones.
You never quite liked the usage of them, vulnerable to sunlight, though it doesn't kill them, and dependent on the blood of others, and unless you know their weaknesses, they are nearly impossible to defeat.
You began the incantations and the rituals; you awaited the coming of the blood moon, under which the creation of new vampires was the most powerful. As midnight approached and the moon came out from behind the clouds, a dim red light filled the clearing as your acolytes chanted on your behalf while you drew in ancient power from the dark skies.
"By my power most ancient and terrible, I shall grant thee life anew, Malidwa, but no more shall you cherish the sun, nor walk amongst mortals without inspiring fear and hatred. Rise, my child of the night, and serve me faithfully for eternity."
A bolt of dark redness struck her chest as you shoved her soul inside her corpse. and watched as Malidwa's eyes flickered open, glowing with a hunger for blood. Almost immediately, she tried to jump you, but you knocked her back with a small telekinetic blast, keeping her at bay.
"Thou shalt find that mine blood is not for consumption; at very least, it isn't suitable for sustenance, but I did promise thee blood, did I not? And I suppose a congratuatory gift is in order." You grinned as you put your foot on her windpipe. It wouldn't kill her; you can't kill what's already dead, after all. You took a small dagger from your pocket, pricked your pinkie, and let the drops of blood drip into her mouth.
"That is all thou shalt get from me. I am not a charity, and in service thou art bound, so do not think I shall provide thee with blood for free; go out, hunt, taste the blood, carve it, desire it, and lust for it. The night shall be yours for as long as you remain under my stewardship."
She did listen and immediately attacked your acolytes instead, which, to be frank, you didn't really care about; they were more disposable than if she had gone off Erassyl or someone of importance.
Speaking of which, you weren't going to take her to the captal, she would need some time to grow into her new life, which you would prefer to be done in a place both far away from the prying eyes of the court and where your men could intervene if the situation required it.
"Keep her locked away during the day and let her roam out during the night; let her gorge on whatever she comes across, but don't let her run off." You bade them goodbye and flew off to play the court games once again.
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>>6395682
Your position was a strong one, especially after your successes in the field. Heaps of titles, land, and power had been bestowed upon you, and you were to push it to even greater heights. With the sultan having withdrawn from governing, you were the true master of the realm, able to control the bureaucracy, the army, and most important of all, government spending.
Yet cracks were beginning to show in the next generation of princes, whom you had mostly ignored, who were now demanding a voice in government, something you didn't have the slightest intention of giving. Despite your ethereal youthfulness, you were seen as old, passé, the face of yesterday. When the new sultan acceded, you would be out of a job.
There was also the new territories out west you conquered; you had made a deal with the nobility there, but you knew that they would try to limit the central government's power. They were up for the chopping block as well.
With the first class of your new special guard/intelligence agency/secret police nearing their graduation, the opportunity to properly police internal affairs without having to outwit courtiers was now yours.
>I see now that while I have a place in their minds, their souls and hearts must be mine as well; spiritual plurality must be turned into religious orthodoxy.
>I shan't suffer the princelings; I have outwitted the previous generation with ease, and you shall serve as much as lab rats as your uncles and aunts.
>I have had enough of the nobility; new men, men who know who made them, must take their place.
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The snake cult, the name says it all, doesn't it? A cult dedicated to a snake god, who in reality is yours truly. The naga you had created for them would assume leadership, eventually, when they were of age.
But they were mostly meant for the west, to act as your network of spies and as a fifth column when the time would come to march west and bring all the desert under your domain.
They had been more confident in Mustafarid territory, where your official policy of religious toleration had enabled them some leeway in operating out in the open. As the grand vizier, you had been able to cover up their more illicit activities, while also instructing them to tone down the human sacrifice for the time being and to switch to animals.
But they were still too much of a cult, hiding where the authorities wouldn't look. Which is fine and good in territory not yet under your sway. But they were also a means of control; this society did not yet think you a god but a vizier, a very powerful position, but you were still formally on retainer to a mortal sultan.
No, you must ingrain yourself deeper into their culture, cast away other idols, and assert that there is but one god, the true god, master of the sands and lord of serpents and of men. And to do that, you need religion, an actually organised one, that can preach and worship in the open.
Of course, you can't just show up at court wearing a snake-like headpiece and staff and demand they all convert or die; that would be too blatant and too blunt. Instead, you would have them slowly emerge from the shadows and into the full public view; it doesn't have to be grand at first. Some of the nobles you have in your pocket can convert it as a show that it is a safe, normal religion.
Safe, clean, and respectable, that is how it should present itself to the outside world, or at least to the Mustafarids. So it was time for you to pull some strings; first things first, you raised their status from being tolerated to being an officially promoted and endorsed faith among the thousand cults and gods that were worshipped throughout the sultanate. Also setting aside sites and land upon which they could openly build their temples and funnelling them funding via one of your slush funds.
But how exactly would the cult go about dealing with the other sects?
>With fire and sword, we shall arm them in secret and look the other way when they kill, destroy and vandalise.
>Through a very aggressive campaign of self-promotion, exalting the virtues that come with worshipping the snake god.
>Not through any holy book, but through the tax code: convenient tax breaks for them and heavier burdens for the others.
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You set to work; to change a religion is to change the soul of a people, and you would slowly crank up the privileges for the snake cult, now going by a more public-friendly name. Now formally known as the Temples of the Serpent, it did draw in some new followers and priests, helped by the fact that both men and women could join the ranks.
Obviously, these newcomers wouldn't be allowed to know all the secrets and rituals. At a secret meeting, it was decided that they would be an outer circle, to be initiated if they showed proper adherence and ambition. The inner circle would be the actual leadership, there to assist you and your forces in controlling every aspect of life here.
You decided to introduce a new tax, one on the donations and alms given by the citizens to the various temples. To 'more efficiently redistribute the wealth among the downtrodden.' and to 'ensure that an unbiased third party could audit and regulate the distribution process.'
Unpopular as it turned out to be, you unleashed the first agents of The Serpent's Fangs upon them. With them moving into the open, away from the training yards in the mountains, you would officially keep them as a bodyguard, guarding you and your quarters and escorting whatever important goods you needed to transport. Priests and dissidents went missing; others learnt to keep shut from then on.
In the palace halls the balance once more shifted in your favour; the appearance of the green-cloaked lifeguards made the regular troops nervous, but with the captain of the guards in your pocket, none dared to object. It also allowed you to keep tabs on the princes and princesses.
So you sat down, working your way down the various letters and acts you deftly signed into law or renewed. Updating your network of blackmail and reshifting your spies as needed.
But in other news, the adventuring company you had sent out to find its way to the Hellhorn had sent word back, saying they had successfully located the artefact. Good news, for you had sent them out a while ago and were beginning to have doubts about their progress. Their letter detailed their progress since their departure.
They had suffered some casualties in trying to find this horn, for, of the original five, only three remained. The mountainous terrain they had to go through on the last leg of the journey seemed to have claimed a toll in the form of two lost companions.
But the path was open; you needed but to go there and claim your prize for yourself. It lay in a ruined shrine, dedicated to a long-since-forgotten god. perched atop a ridge overlooking the vast valley below. The remaining members of the group were determined to press to return home and receive payment as agreed upon, with them demanding that the sum belonging to the dead two would be split among them.
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>>6396387
The horn would soon make its way into the hands of a worthy master, which left you with something else to deal with. The loose ends needed to be tied up. What should be done with these adventures?
>No witnesses, these patsies will be dealt with accordingly.
>Pay them only what was agreed upon.
>Pay them double for extra compensation.
>Sic Malidwa was on them, so she put practice to good use.
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No, failure shouldn't be rewarded; incompetence must be punished, and the hungry need to be fed. You wouldn't pay them a penny; those adventures had served their goal, and now was the time to dispose of them. The Hellhorn wasn't worthy of them, and if they were clumsy enough to die to the terrain, they would most certainly not survive what you were about to let loose on them.
You flew back, not to the laboratory, but to a small ridge a stone's throw away from it, over a few dunes and unforgiving plains. There, in the dead of night, the disgraced princess was sucking out the blood of a caravaneer unfortunate enough to cross her path.
You coldly landed in front of her, watching as she briefly glanced with hateful ruby eyes before turning back to her victim. After you transformed into your elven form, you spoke to her.
"I have need of thee, princess." You coolly said, but she paid you no heed. She continued to feast upon the man, but you weren't going to wait for that. Reaching out, you smacked her in the face with the back of your hand.
She hissed and wailed as she was thrown back.
"Enough frivolities, wench. Thy master has need of thee, and you will do as you are told."
"You…" She whispered, rubbing her cheek. "You turned me into this; the sun now hurts me." She said. "But worst of all, " She plucked with two fingers at the two fangs which had grown in her mouth. Two canines, overgrown and sharp. "I don't know what it is, but I feel empty and hungry, and only blood can sate me. I smell it everywhere, calling to me, and I feel myself craving it." She hadn't turned her head to you, and you suspected that she was talking to herself more than to you.
She was struggling; her desire for revenge and once-natural persona were both losing ground to something darker and more sinister. It would take a century or so, but she would slowly fall in line as the pigment would slowly recede from her countenance. It was inevitable; either she would succumb, or she would truly die.
"Now then, my bidding. Three adventurers, who have failed me, are to be terminated. Thou shalt carry out this task, shall thee not? After all, there will be blood to be reaped."
She did not speak but nodded in both fear and hatred. You telepathically sent her the last confirmed location and warned her to travel only by night. She would recognise them by the scent of their blood. Then you took off to the mountainous ridge where your prize awaited.
You kept to the clouds, avoiding revealing yourself to the cities and hamlets below. For you wished not to openly show yourself; that would raise the alarm too quickly. You descended over the peaks and into the valley where the treasure was hidden.
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>>6397005
In between two great mountain ranges, there, upon a lesser ridge, lopsided and covered in trees, stood the ruins of an ancient shrine. Vine and moss had taken over. The entrance had long since collapsed.
To make this more convenient for yourself, you shrunk down again to enter through the parts of the shrine that hadn't collapsed. Unimpressed, you overthrew a pillar, opening the way to the undercroft. The air was thick and dry, the room cold and musty. But it was there, at the end of the room. Chained and bound with heavy iron cuffs lay the Hellhorn. The enchantments had worn off, and the chains melted rather easily, but you knew it wouldn't be that easy. Something outside had been eyeing the Hellhorn for centuries, unable to reach inside. But waiting, waiting for someone to pick it up. Malevolence lurked and awaited you; if you had to guess, someone wanted his horn back.
But the question would be whether you would comfort him about it.
>Blow the horn, just to see what his reaction would be.
>Go back upstairs; he can't reach you in the bounds of the shrine before flying off.
>Confront him; it will be fun.
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Ancient evil or not, you wouldn't be so easily cowed, especially since you weren't some puny knight or would-be hopeful do-gooder. You fancied yourself more a master of a different morality. Nevertheless, that which kept the demon at bay was the consecrated ground, which forbade them from entering, even after this shrine had since crumbled.
The fools should have made it for you as well, but you could circumvent it by virtue of being from this plane. Neverthelles. You halted in the doorway, on the precipice. Holding the hellhorn in your hands.
It was a large horn, large enough that you had to carry it with two hands; it is ribbed and black in colour, save for the golden mouthpiece at the end. It felt odd and was warm to the touch, and it emitted a low, ominous hum.
"Step out of the shadows, ye demon. Don't think you shall ambush me now. I have what thou desirest, and thou mayest never see it again." You declared with a voice unleashed. It was heavy and authoritative, and the air around you came to a still after your declaration.
Out of a cloak of darkness emerged a figure, his invisibility no longer of service. An imposing figure, towering over you, broad and muscular, with piercing, flaming eyes. Four horns jutted from his head, and one was broken off, leaving a jagged stump on his right temple.
"Puny elf, you dare deny me that which is mine?" It glowered down at you with a menacing expression. Yet he couldn't reach you, for you were still on holy ground.
"You cannot stay there forever, mortal. I will have what is rightfully mine, even if I must wait for you to leave the sanctuary." The demon came out in full, great mace in hand. His skin was ash-black, save for the cracks of molten lava that ran through it.
But wait, he wouldn't, for you did step forth, though your hand became a claw and your skin became scales, and you soon grew in size to match the demon's imposing figure. For extra effect, you roared with a deafening cacophony that shook the earth.
"Of all creatures, thy ilk should know naught to deny a dragon his prize, wretch from below." You growled; he took a step back, not because he feared you, far from it. He had obviously not expected you to be a dragon.
You spewed forth fire; he did likewise. Neither of you would hurt each other with that. Lava was his ichor, and a dragon doesn't burn so easily. Both of you made ready, one of you would leave with the prize; the other would be left here.
>Base DC of 50
>You're a dragon +35DC
>Greater Demon -20 DC
>Soft underbelly: -10 DC, +1 adverse re-roll.
For the opening phase of this duel, roll a 1d100 (DC55) to see who will gain the upper hand.
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You trampled forth, fury breathing, as you crashed into the demon with all your might, your girth and raw mass flooring him beneath you. Fire and toxic fumes would be of no use here; both of you were immune, and in this battle, it would be strength, skill, and the sharpness of either one of your claws.
He threw you off, regained his footing, and roared in a low but baleful and foul manner. Like the horn of a funeral procession, and it made the woods bristle and shake. You answered in kind, roaring with an equally baleful manner, but yours was louder, more intense, more like the eruption of a volcano.
You spread your wings, revealing your immense size and power. Flapping them about to both confuse the demon and to kick up the dust so you could perform a second attack. You picked up speed, using your wings to accelerate your charge. This time, you wouldn't give him the chance to shake you off that easily; no, you would wound him. Wound him, or hurl him off the edge of the ridge.
Peering through the dust, you sprang forth, jaw wide open, snapping shut with a loud crunch. Teeth like swords indeed, for you bore deep into the demon's flesh, tearing through sinew and muscle with ease. At the same time, you let go of what turned out to be his hand, wary of the fact that his other hand was still clutching a deadly weapon.
Quickly making room to plan your next step, your enemy had been dealt a blow; it didn't knock him out of the fight completely. But that was now a little step closer to happening.
>Base DC of 50
>You're a dragon +35DC
>A enemy hand mauled +10DC
>Greater Demon -20 DC
>Soft underbelly: -10 DC, +1 adverse re-roll.
For the next phase of the duel, roll a 1d100 (DC65) to see if you can continue to press the advantage.
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He angrily looked at you, his hand stained with bitemarks and bleeding deeply. Blood dripped on the ground, killing the grass and making the dirt sizzle.
You had tasted of him when you chomped down on his hand. Demon blood isn't for consumption, but for the select few able to withstand both its acidity and temperature, it is a quaint delicacy. It tasted bitter and sour, a bit prickly on the tongue as well, but nothing that harmed you.
The two of you went after each other again. Were there witnesses here, many a song would be sung about the dragon duelling with the balor. Were you on the side of good, there would most certainly be ballads written about your bravery. But alas, that was not the case, although it certainly is an idea.
Truth be told, this pas was a bit of an impasse; neither of you had truly gained the upper hand, and while by now you two are bruised and bleeding in some places, it is nothing too serious, not yet at least. The two of you made ready one more; either one of you would claim victory, and you would make certain it was you.
>Base DC of 50
>You're a dragon +35DC
>Enemy hand mauled +12
>Greater Demon -20 DC
>Soft underbelly: -10 DC, +1 adverse re-roll.
For the next phase of the duel, roll a 1d100 (DC67) to see if you can continue to press the advantage.
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Neither of you made the next move, circling slowly as you both got closer and closer. The balor was clutching his mauled hand against his chest; were he not a demon, he would probably die in the next few days if it were to get infected, which, considering your nature, it would certainly.
Then he lunged forth, bellowing his lungs out as he brought down his mace in a vain attempt to cripple you in kind. But you were as deft as you were strong. On all fours, you quickly jumped aside, turning on your heel, striking him in the back with your tail, which cracked like lighting. And as he stumbled forward, you seized the opportunity to slash with your claws into his neck.
But you were not done yet, no, it was time for you to finish this little distraction once and for all. With him floored, you quickly flipped him over, throwing your weight onto his chest.
With a triumphant roar and blow of fire, you lunged forth with your long neck, sinking your teeth deep into his throat. His blood trickled into your mouth as he tried in vain to burn you away with his own fiery breath, but to no avail; the light in his eyes went out as the lava-like blood stalled.
A pity in some ways, such a beast would have been useful in future wars of conquest, but alas, demons like him were always too much busywork to control. Betrayal was something you had gotten used to in the past, which is why you preferred mortals who believed you a god or the ideologically indoctrinated.
Nevertheless, you delayed your departure for some time while you feasted on the vile demon's flesh, cutting and chewing as you went. Not wiry like most demons were, his flesh was nicely tender and succulent. After a night eating his flesh and picking his bones clean. In a final mockery, you placed his skull in the ancient chapel as an insult both to the god once worshipped and the demon race as a whole.
You once more retrieved the hellhorn, though what you would do with it now was the question. Take it directly into the heartland of the demons? To test it out? Take it home to study it with care and see what it does in a safe and controlled environment.
>To the valley, there is nothing collateral there anyway.
>Back to the lab, where I might study it in peace.
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