Lord Zee
Vec
JFK
Fetzen
Thayr
BingTheWing
The earth shuddered beneath the tremendous, heavy bronze boots of a giant. The walking colossus, armored in coruscating bronze that showed no sign of its ancient age, might have blended in with the aurous grass of the plains were he not the size of a tree. Balon moved ungracefully; his unwieldy gait a result of his muscles deteriorating from the curse and his time spent underwater leaving him with poor balance. Still, when he slowly trudged whilst clad in a suit of armor, his stride was large enough to let him move at a speed unburdened humans would struggle to maintain.
After a short while Balon found himself ravenous, his body completely unused to any type of motion or physical work. Walking so far inland had been foolish; he felt weak, hungry, and dry. Just as he was about to return to the sea and regain his strength, one of his feet broke through the ground and fell into some ravine below. Tripping, the giant fell down face first, his hands outstretched to break his fall. Instead, they too broke through the ground and his entire body fell into some dark cavity in the ground, along with a cascade of dirt.
Balon's enormous body crashed down into the flooded tunnel, instantly sinking to the bottom of the black water. The giant was instantly reinvigorated. This water felt cool, refreshing. It also felt dangerous, and eerily similar to the water at the bottom of the trench. Balon's prison had been equally murky and dark as these waters, but there was something more here. The giant could feel that some malevolent being was here, no doubt the source of the taint in this aquifer.
Balon's sole good eye was quick to adjust to the complete darkness, giving some limited eyesight in these waters. However, that wasn't necessary. Balon could have negotiated these treacherous tunnels with all three of his eyes blinded, for he could feel the water's flow and all the ripples within, even through his bronze armor. Deciding to swim up this tunnel to investigate the source of this taint, the giant began to crawl on his belly through the tunnel, which was rather narrow for his liking. In some places it was possible to swim, but in most he was forced to pull himself forward by gripping the floor and walls of the passage.
After a short time the tunnel was filled with a blinding light and a wave of cleansing magic. Other than forcing his eye to readjust to the dark once again, there was little effect. After all, Balon had once been a holy guardian. His black heart had always been immune to such spells. Suddenly, he felt disturbances in the water, everywhere. There were creatures in these tunnels, and that light seemed to have roused their anger. An eddy of water pushed back a tuft of hair tangled with seaweed, revealing Balon's bulbous, rotten eye- the one in the middle of his forehead, that killed anything it saw. The giant did not cover his eye back up; instead, he peered down the winding tunnel with it, and clasped his spear and shield even harder.
Cyclone
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Bio
Back when dinosaurs ruled the Earth, I got started with writing online on the Spore forums. Man, those were the days. We're talking like 12 years ago 2010-ish!
I've been here on and off for almost as long, and have GM'd a bunch of different things to varying success.
I've been here on and off for almost as long, and have GM'd a bunch of different things to varying success.
Word of my splendor:
Most Recent Posts
Hope you feel better, BBeast.
I suppose Shaige would be a decent fit for a smoke demon esque creature, since his theme is something akin to a voodoo loa or an Aztec god. He originally would be somewhat of a necromancer, but I'll just keep the pain elementals and refrain from doing too much else with undead since that's Calvartem's specialty.
Yeah, do whatever with your rogue being for a while. So long as you don't massacre all of Paterdomus in the time span of a few hours.
I still feel that Shaige would be the best fit for my rogue being, because reasons. I suppose I'll try to do something with him while you figure that all out.
I suppose Shaige would be a decent fit for a smoke demon esque creature, since his theme is something akin to a voodoo loa or an Aztec god. He originally would be somewhat of a necromancer, but I'll just keep the pain elementals and refrain from doing too much else with undead since that's Calvartem's specialty.
Yeah, do whatever with your rogue being for a while. So long as you don't massacre all of Paterdomus in the time span of a few hours.
Shaige soon found that the hidden cave he stumbled across wasn't some tiny camp for a few roving bandits. This was something more, an entire subterranean city. Below the forested hill there was a vast network of caverns and tunnels that stretched out for miles, the blood vessels of the earth. At least a thousand humans lived in this section of the cavern, with small cots in cold, damp corners. There were some magical braziers haphazardly thrown down in various chambers, though with such sparse lighting the darkness still seemed to almost swallow the settlement. Despite living in this place for some time, the humans were unable to adapt to the suffocating darkness. Living in such nightmarish conditions and eating mostly fungi for fear of going onto the surface had left many people sickly and broken.These people lived like frightened little rats, hiding in their own graves.
In this wretched abyss, devoid of warmth and light, the ghost was in his own element. He was free to listen and watch without fear of being seen by even the druids amongst these people. The druids seemed to be the only thing keeping the people alive. It was they who used magic to conceal the entrance, they who created and maintained the magical lights, and they who gathered food for the hungry masses from both the surface and the dark, unexplored reaches of the chasm. Still, the druids themselves were only human, and they too smelt of fear. With only basic earth, life, and illusion magics, Shaige doubted very much that these spellcasters would be of much use in a fight.
It did not take Shaige long to learn the story of this place. By overhearing many a hushed conversation, he was able to piece together that these were refugees from a village that had recently been conquered. A great city state to the east had been advancing further inland, waging a holy war and killing any barbarian tribes that refused to be subjugated. With all the varying tribes in these forests and mountains having pride and long memories, this group was unable to atone century old feuds and find refuge. So, caught between their foreign conquerors and some other tribes that would hardly be any kinder to them, they had no choice but to flee into the bowels of the earth. With crusaders and enemy tribesmen still skirmishing above, venturing to the surface was a frightening prospect. Fear of starvation was the only thing more powerful than fear of being enslaved or executed, so it was seldom that the druids ventured out beneath the sky, and only at night and for brief periods of time. Something had to be said for the hardy druids, since it was a miracle that they had managed to keep their people alive for this long.
Shaige eventually left the caverns the way he came, and scoured the nearby area in search of some of these crusaders. It was not long before he stumbled upon a trio of the conquerors. A fearsome sight they were, though likely not in the way they had envisioned. Two of them lay on the forest floor, hacked in a two or three places and shot with arrows in a dozen more. The two knights' armor was so mangled that it hadn't even been worth looting, and so it would remain there until it rusted away and the crusaders' bones crumbled to dust. However, their bodies looked pristine in stark contrast to the third man in their party, whose corpse had been dismembered and nailed to a tree. He looked to have been their leader. Perhaps he was a priest or a wizard of some sort, for he was garbed in a robe of red and gold. Or perhaps the robe had just been golden, and the red was the man's blood. It was difficult to tell.
Shaige left the scene to search for crusaders once more, preferably living ones. No doubt that ambush was the work of some of the neighboring tribesmen; it was hard to imagine the druids shivering back in the cave committing such brutality. Then again, something about those people struggling to survive in the darkness had resonating within the ghost. They were not unlike himself, victims of circumstance attempting to grow and make the best of things. They had potential. They were resilient and loyal, and they desperately needed a leader if they were to have any hope of survival. Shaige decided then that he would aid this tribe, and take them under his protection.
Shaige's Stuff:
Minions: Soran the imp construct, 9 imps, 37 pain elementals
Resources: A few bags of tools for the imps. Food is starting to run low, so the imps have resorted to trapping some small animals to help stretch their supplies.
Infrastructure: A dungeon heart, the imps' makeshift altar, some small animal traps outside. The inside of Shaige's dungeon is being expanded, and the outside is now fortified with wooden abatises and concealed with magic.
In this wretched abyss, devoid of warmth and light, the ghost was in his own element. He was free to listen and watch without fear of being seen by even the druids amongst these people. The druids seemed to be the only thing keeping the people alive. It was they who used magic to conceal the entrance, they who created and maintained the magical lights, and they who gathered food for the hungry masses from both the surface and the dark, unexplored reaches of the chasm. Still, the druids themselves were only human, and they too smelt of fear. With only basic earth, life, and illusion magics, Shaige doubted very much that these spellcasters would be of much use in a fight.
It did not take Shaige long to learn the story of this place. By overhearing many a hushed conversation, he was able to piece together that these were refugees from a village that had recently been conquered. A great city state to the east had been advancing further inland, waging a holy war and killing any barbarian tribes that refused to be subjugated. With all the varying tribes in these forests and mountains having pride and long memories, this group was unable to atone century old feuds and find refuge. So, caught between their foreign conquerors and some other tribes that would hardly be any kinder to them, they had no choice but to flee into the bowels of the earth. With crusaders and enemy tribesmen still skirmishing above, venturing to the surface was a frightening prospect. Fear of starvation was the only thing more powerful than fear of being enslaved or executed, so it was seldom that the druids ventured out beneath the sky, and only at night and for brief periods of time. Something had to be said for the hardy druids, since it was a miracle that they had managed to keep their people alive for this long.
Shaige eventually left the caverns the way he came, and scoured the nearby area in search of some of these crusaders. It was not long before he stumbled upon a trio of the conquerors. A fearsome sight they were, though likely not in the way they had envisioned. Two of them lay on the forest floor, hacked in a two or three places and shot with arrows in a dozen more. The two knights' armor was so mangled that it hadn't even been worth looting, and so it would remain there until it rusted away and the crusaders' bones crumbled to dust. However, their bodies looked pristine in stark contrast to the third man in their party, whose corpse had been dismembered and nailed to a tree. He looked to have been their leader. Perhaps he was a priest or a wizard of some sort, for he was garbed in a robe of red and gold. Or perhaps the robe had just been golden, and the red was the man's blood. It was difficult to tell.
Shaige left the scene to search for crusaders once more, preferably living ones. No doubt that ambush was the work of some of the neighboring tribesmen; it was hard to imagine the druids shivering back in the cave committing such brutality. Then again, something about those people struggling to survive in the darkness had resonating within the ghost. They were not unlike himself, victims of circumstance attempting to grow and make the best of things. They had potential. They were resilient and loyal, and they desperately needed a leader if they were to have any hope of survival. Shaige decided then that he would aid this tribe, and take them under his protection.
Shaige's Stuff:
Minions: Soran the imp construct, 9 imps, 37 pain elementals
Resources: A few bags of tools for the imps. Food is starting to run low, so the imps have resorted to trapping some small animals to help stretch their supplies.
Infrastructure: A dungeon heart, the imps' makeshift altar, some small animal traps outside. The inside of Shaige's dungeon is being expanded, and the outside is now fortified with wooden abatises and concealed with magic.
Well, I was going to have Shaige fly over to the city and investigate it soon, and when that happened I was going to describe Paterdomus and its clergy in detail. Currently he's with spying on a tribe of people living in the mountains west of Paterdomus.
To be honest I've put myself into a weird spot here and due to poor planning, I'm not quite sure what to write, hence my silence for the past few days. I had planned for Shaige to discover that Paterdomus' fire and water cults are waging a crusade against the surrounding people. As simple as that sounds, I'm struggling to write a post revealing that information IC and have Shaige's story play out.
As in for your rogue being, I expressed some interest after that PM you sent me, and that still remains. Shaige is just occupied for the time being, so if your rogue being is imprisoned by the fire/water priests in Paterdomus, or driven off, they could meet once my keeper gets around to investigating the city. Alternatively, you could figure something out with BBeast or somebody else.
To be honest I've put myself into a weird spot here and due to poor planning, I'm not quite sure what to write, hence my silence for the past few days. I had planned for Shaige to discover that Paterdomus' fire and water cults are waging a crusade against the surrounding people. As simple as that sounds, I'm struggling to write a post revealing that information IC and have Shaige's story play out.
As in for your rogue being, I expressed some interest after that PM you sent me, and that still remains. Shaige is just occupied for the time being, so if your rogue being is imprisoned by the fire/water priests in Paterdomus, or driven off, they could meet once my keeper gets around to investigating the city. Alternatively, you could figure something out with BBeast or somebody else.
Shaige traveled through the hinterlands of Paterdomus with a swiftness few corporeal things could match. Silently and without being noticed, he flitted from shadow to shadow, ever observant of his surroundings. This land was laden with magic; the very forests themselves up in these mountains seemed to be enchanted, presumably by the creator of this world. This magic that could hide terrible traps just as easily as it could lull one to sleep held no power over the ghostly keeper. From his empty visage there was a cold, level gaze that missed nothing.
There were animals everywhere in this forest, which seemed peaceful enough. Deers, squirrels, bears, and the occasional wolf were spotted by Shaige, but they did not run. Their fur always stood up straight and they knew something was wrong, but they could neither see nor smell the ghost, and so they carried on with their lives without ever knowing the specter had been within mere feet. There were signs of human activity as well. There was the occasional path left behind by a small group of men traversing the forest for some reason, but there were many more paths left by cautious feet. It seemed that some group was hiding in this forest, and going through great lengths to cover their tracks. Shaige sought out to find these people.
After some time, the spirit found himself in the shadow of a stony crag that jutted out from the land like a scar. Clinging to a small ledge near the top, Shaige could sense something. He peered at the spot more closely, and saw through the illusion magic that had been hiding the entrance to a cave. Within that cave, Shaige saw moving creatures. It took a moment, but he recognized them as humans. For some reason, Shaige felt a bizarre and utter hatred for those creatures. They had existed in the world of Shaige's prior life, and so he had been born with a plethora of knowledge regarding their language, cultures, behavior, and prowess in battle, amongst other things. Yet, coming into existence without any memories, Shaige's negative opinion was meaningless, built upon a foundation of air.
Entering the cave, Shaige decided to observe these humans for some time. He would reevaluate his opinion, and even if he was right in seeing them as a nuisance and a threat that needed to be crushed, it could never hurt to better know the enemy. The sun began to go down, exaggerating the shadows in the cave and the bright light from the hearths and magical lights within. Realizing that nearly a day had already passed, and that this would take some time, Shaige decided to contact Soran. Reaching out, over the hills and forests to where he sensed his loyal servant, the keeper managed to establish a connection with the construct.
The pain elementals vigilantly patrolled the hilly area, ensuring that nothing could enter the master's cave unseen and unchallenged. The imps, meanwhile, were gobbling a stew they had cooked from some stolen vegetables, some morsels of meat from animals they had trapped, and a bit of ash and tar for flavor. They had taken the liberty of summoning more pain elementals for their master, but after that they had nothing to do. So they simply sat in the cave, watching over the tiny vial that was their master's most valuable possession. Suddenly, Soran jumped, spilling his stew. The others burst into laughter.
Shaige's voice echoed in the mind of his construct, "Is all well? I have traveled far from our small cave, and will be preoccupied for some time."
The imp construct replied aloud, "Master? Is it you?" The guffawing imps instantly fell silent in respect.
"I feel you speaking, but your words fall silent upon me. You must project your thoughts across space and into my mind. It should be effortless, for I have already linked our souls together."
"Oh wise and powerful master, do you hear me now?"
"I do," the ghost responded, unaffected by the flattery. "What have you done in my absence?"
"I am afraid we were not at all productive. We summoned several more pain elementals, and when there were no more souls in the vicinity, we rested. We had no orders."
"Good. Do not act on your own accord, unless absolutely necessary. I am to be consulted first," Shaige replied, his commanding tone evident enough, even through the telepathy. This land is not so desolate as you might think. I want you to immediately begin using illusion magic to conceal the cave, fortify the entrance, and then expand the interior. Have the pain elementals patrol a wide area, taking care not to be seen. Do as I say, for I will be kind to those who serve me well."
As Shaige's voice faded, Soran snapped out of the daze the telepathy had rendered him in. Within seconds, he was organizing the nine imps and giving out tasks. Under his guidance, they worked efficiently and without argument. The presence of a construct greatly expedited progress.
[b]Shaige's Stuff:[/b[
Minions: Soran the imp construct, 9 imps, 17 pain elementals
Resources: A few bags of tools for the imps. Food is starting to run low, so the imps have resorted to trapping some small animals to help stretch their supplies.
Infrastructure: A dungeon heart, the imps' makeshift altar, some small animal traps outside
There were animals everywhere in this forest, which seemed peaceful enough. Deers, squirrels, bears, and the occasional wolf were spotted by Shaige, but they did not run. Their fur always stood up straight and they knew something was wrong, but they could neither see nor smell the ghost, and so they carried on with their lives without ever knowing the specter had been within mere feet. There were signs of human activity as well. There was the occasional path left behind by a small group of men traversing the forest for some reason, but there were many more paths left by cautious feet. It seemed that some group was hiding in this forest, and going through great lengths to cover their tracks. Shaige sought out to find these people.
After some time, the spirit found himself in the shadow of a stony crag that jutted out from the land like a scar. Clinging to a small ledge near the top, Shaige could sense something. He peered at the spot more closely, and saw through the illusion magic that had been hiding the entrance to a cave. Within that cave, Shaige saw moving creatures. It took a moment, but he recognized them as humans. For some reason, Shaige felt a bizarre and utter hatred for those creatures. They had existed in the world of Shaige's prior life, and so he had been born with a plethora of knowledge regarding their language, cultures, behavior, and prowess in battle, amongst other things. Yet, coming into existence without any memories, Shaige's negative opinion was meaningless, built upon a foundation of air.
Entering the cave, Shaige decided to observe these humans for some time. He would reevaluate his opinion, and even if he was right in seeing them as a nuisance and a threat that needed to be crushed, it could never hurt to better know the enemy. The sun began to go down, exaggerating the shadows in the cave and the bright light from the hearths and magical lights within. Realizing that nearly a day had already passed, and that this would take some time, Shaige decided to contact Soran. Reaching out, over the hills and forests to where he sensed his loyal servant, the keeper managed to establish a connection with the construct.
The pain elementals vigilantly patrolled the hilly area, ensuring that nothing could enter the master's cave unseen and unchallenged. The imps, meanwhile, were gobbling a stew they had cooked from some stolen vegetables, some morsels of meat from animals they had trapped, and a bit of ash and tar for flavor. They had taken the liberty of summoning more pain elementals for their master, but after that they had nothing to do. So they simply sat in the cave, watching over the tiny vial that was their master's most valuable possession. Suddenly, Soran jumped, spilling his stew. The others burst into laughter.
Shaige's voice echoed in the mind of his construct, "Is all well? I have traveled far from our small cave, and will be preoccupied for some time."
The imp construct replied aloud, "Master? Is it you?" The guffawing imps instantly fell silent in respect.
"I feel you speaking, but your words fall silent upon me. You must project your thoughts across space and into my mind. It should be effortless, for I have already linked our souls together."
"Oh wise and powerful master, do you hear me now?"
"I do," the ghost responded, unaffected by the flattery. "What have you done in my absence?"
"I am afraid we were not at all productive. We summoned several more pain elementals, and when there were no more souls in the vicinity, we rested. We had no orders."
"Good. Do not act on your own accord, unless absolutely necessary. I am to be consulted first," Shaige replied, his commanding tone evident enough, even through the telepathy. This land is not so desolate as you might think. I want you to immediately begin using illusion magic to conceal the cave, fortify the entrance, and then expand the interior. Have the pain elementals patrol a wide area, taking care not to be seen. Do as I say, for I will be kind to those who serve me well."
As Shaige's voice faded, Soran snapped out of the daze the telepathy had rendered him in. Within seconds, he was organizing the nine imps and giving out tasks. Under his guidance, they worked efficiently and without argument. The presence of a construct greatly expedited progress.
[b]Shaige's Stuff:[/b[
Minions: Soran the imp construct, 9 imps, 17 pain elementals
Resources: A few bags of tools for the imps. Food is starting to run low, so the imps have resorted to trapping some small animals to help stretch their supplies.
Infrastructure: A dungeon heart, the imps' makeshift altar, some small animal traps outside
I'll post as Shaige, then have Balon fall into the tunnel and maybe kill an eel or two, and then have him start swimming up the tunnel. That way you can get in something like 2-4 posts about Af and the human girl before dealing with Old Deadeyes.
Edit: And Dawnon, your posts are good. Actually, come to think of it, I've been really liking everybody's writing so far. I hope everyone else can say the same.
And BBeast, it occurred to me that I haven't exactly been doing a good job writing my entries for the Compendium. Sorry about that; I'll have to do better on that front with my next few creatures. I also realized that I haven't given out coordinates for Shaige's dungeon yet. You can just plop it down in the foothills of one of the mountains, due west of Paterdomus.
Edit: And Dawnon, your posts are good. Actually, come to think of it, I've been really liking everybody's writing so far. I hope everyone else can say the same.
And BBeast, it occurred to me that I haven't exactly been doing a good job writing my entries for the Compendium. Sorry about that; I'll have to do better on that front with my next few creatures. I also realized that I haven't given out coordinates for Shaige's dungeon yet. You can just plop it down in the foothills of one of the mountains, due west of Paterdomus.
Falling into one of the tunnels sounds like a great idea. Or perhaps Xir'ain could investigate the farm just in time to see Balon come smash down the houses and kill/enslave/eat the locals. Either way, if their first encounter will be a fight, I'm not sure where to go from there. Balon obviously isn't the type to back down, since he conjured a plague knowing fully well that there would some terrible punishment for it. So I guess the next question to ask is whether Xir'ain would be willing to negotiate if he was either matched blow for blow, or defeated. This early on in the RP, the keepers just haven't gained enough power to be capable of defeating powerful rogue beings with impunity.
You know, something that I've been wondering is what those eels actually do get to eat. Do they just survive purely off of eating the rocks in those tunnels?
You know, something that I've been wondering is what those eels actually do get to eat. Do they just survive purely off of eating the rocks in those tunnels?
Hmm, good timing with that storm, Cavalier. We coordinated the weather without realizing it! 
So Jay, still interested in my rogue being now that you actually know about it? If so, do you have any ideas for how he could find Xir'ain, or vice versa?
So Jay, still interested in my rogue being now that you actually know about it? If so, do you have any ideas for how he could find Xir'ain, or vice versa?
Elysium's sea was unpredictable. The weather oscillated much in these parts; however, more oft than not it was calm. There were on occasion gales of wind that not even the briny clefts could withstand, and tempests that could toss about ships like dice in some sort of game of the gods. Today, however, it was tranquil. The calm waves scintillated with white diamonds of light as they basked in the sun's warmth. Seagulls and herons flew in lazy circles, fat from an overabundance of fish. One could hardly imagine a paradise more serene.
But deep below the waves... that was another world. A thousand fathoms below the waves, all was black. The darkness itself could swallow minnow and whale alike. A thousand fathoms below that, there was a gaping trench. One could descend into that black abyss for hours until he forgot which way was up and which was down, becoming yet another pale skeleton to rest at the bottom. Yes, this trench had a bottom, though few living souls ever saw it. There were vents that spewed out searing oil and vile gases from the bowels of the earth; poisons to most, but food for some. A whole ecosystem had thrived here since the world's first days, tiny microbes that metabolized the gases fed larger, carnivorous creatures, which fed even bigger creatures, and so on. One of these creatures, an albino, eyeless fish, darted into a cave with a mouthful of smaller fish. It had to bring tribute to its master; lest his ire consume all the creatures of the trench.
At the very end of the cave there had once been a door that led to a staircase, one that descended down into the very core of Elysium. There, some great artifact had been stowed away long ago. There had also been a noble guardian that dwelled in this cave, guarding the door. None had ever tried to enter, but if they had, they would no doubt have been driven off by the great, three-eyed giant that the world's creator had left behind.
Now, the door was sealed and hidden, and there was a twisted, depraved creature shackled to the wall by great chains and ancient magic. Balon was his name. He had been commanded to spend an eternity alone in the deeps of the sea, guarding some holy artifact that he had never even seen. For a time, Balon had done as he was told, but the solitude was maddening. The fish down here were dark, spiteful things that hated the light above and those that lived in it. In time, their malice rubbed off on the guardian. When his creator and master left, Balon realized his freedom. Abandoning his post, he climbed up the rocky walls of the trench and clambered up onto the ocean's shores, then went about reaving and murdering.
Entire villages fell before the giant, who could pound a man into the ground just as easily as he could strike him down with a bolt of magical lightning. Those men that he did not kill or devour, he enslaved. For a time, Balon was king of the land, the shore, and the ocean's blackest reaches. He had a great palace built by the sea. He taxed his subjects to the brink of starvation so that he could have a mountain of gold and jewels to call his own. Some tales would have it that he fathered half a hundred monstrous children; the first of the trolls, cyclopes, and other filth that plagued Elysium to this day.
And then the creator returned, enraged to see what had happened in his absence. Balon's great palace fell like a mere sandcastle before nature's onslaught; hurricanes and earthquakes scattered its stones across the whole continent and buried the vaults of gold beneath a thousand tons of rubble and a mile of seawater. Balon was ordered back to his post, and cursed to die if he ever set foot on dry land again. Out of spite and contempt, the giant sought to ruin what he could not have. Within the depths of his sea cave there was a great cauldron. He coerced the marine creatures to bring him all sorts of strange things from all corners of the planet, and then for nearly a decade, he stirred and mixed poisons in his great cauldron. At last, when he deemed his brew ready, he grabbed an eel and tossed it into the cauldron. The black fluid inside rotted the poor creature's flesh and blistered its skin. The writhing, still living creature splashed some of the fluid in one of the giant's three eyes, before dying. The plague nearly killed Balon, but alas, the land was not so lucky. The sickness eventually left the corrupted guardian, although the magic and the toxins lingered. That eye never saw again; and neither did any creature unfortunate enough to be caught by that blind eye's stare, as they were doomed to meet the same fate as the eel.
Balon released the vile fluid into the ocean, and exerted his command over the sea. The currents carried the plague to ports, and men began dying like flies, helpless against the magical disease. Needless to say, the creator was infuriated at this second betrayal, and cursed the treacherous guardian with every ailment he could think of before having him imprisoned at the depths of the world for the rest of time. Balon was wrought with the symptoms of his own disease; he lost sight in yet another of his three eyes, his skin turned black as coal, and his bones and muscles deteriorated to the point that it was a struggle to move; a fight to stay alive.
The fish that darted into the cave at last reached its master. The giant was still a king of the sea, even in chains. He still wore ancient bronze armor, covered in intricate runes and enchantments. At his side was a great spear and a shield; to look at them at remember what he once had hurt Balon almost as much as the curse. The giant was careful not to look at this fish, but not so much out of kindness. The creatures of the trench had been growing more and more rebellious and unruly, seeing that the tyrant wasn't as powerful as in the older days. If this fish died, Balon might very well starve to death with none of the others willing to bring food.
With an unusual amount of ease, Balon reached out with his hand to take the food from the fish's mouth. The ancient chains rattled, and as they did so, something caught Balon's eye: a little speck of rust had formed on his otherwise immaculate shackles. It took a moment to realize what this meant. And then, for the first time in centuries, the giant guffawed. His laughter was a scary thing to hear, even distorted by the water. At last! These chains were immune to rust and impossible to break; being tied to the creator, they would last until the end of time. Or the end of the creator's life, it would seem. With his body strengthening as the chains and magical force field around him weakened, it would seem that the accursed giant had outlived the righteous, arrogant fool that he hated.
Balon looked at his spear and shield. He remembered the thrill of battle, the power he had once wielded, the lands he had conquered. That gave him the strength to break free. With a thunderous sound, the giant pulled so hard that his chains were ripped out of the rock wall. Although they were still attached to his wrists, that was of little matter. Nothing could impede him, nothing would stand between the giant and the freedom that he had reminisced over for so long. The six yard tall giant snatched up his spear and shield, then stood tall. If he were not underwater, Balon would have likely fallen down. His muscles were still weak from the curse, and sitting for a few centuries meant that he almost had no balance; however, that didn't stop him. A few hours later, the bronze-clad sea giant was clambering back onto the shore. The sea was no longer harmonious, by any standards; a horrendous storm had rolled in to herald the old king's return. It felt good to walk on solid land once more.
But deep below the waves... that was another world. A thousand fathoms below the waves, all was black. The darkness itself could swallow minnow and whale alike. A thousand fathoms below that, there was a gaping trench. One could descend into that black abyss for hours until he forgot which way was up and which was down, becoming yet another pale skeleton to rest at the bottom. Yes, this trench had a bottom, though few living souls ever saw it. There were vents that spewed out searing oil and vile gases from the bowels of the earth; poisons to most, but food for some. A whole ecosystem had thrived here since the world's first days, tiny microbes that metabolized the gases fed larger, carnivorous creatures, which fed even bigger creatures, and so on. One of these creatures, an albino, eyeless fish, darted into a cave with a mouthful of smaller fish. It had to bring tribute to its master; lest his ire consume all the creatures of the trench.
At the very end of the cave there had once been a door that led to a staircase, one that descended down into the very core of Elysium. There, some great artifact had been stowed away long ago. There had also been a noble guardian that dwelled in this cave, guarding the door. None had ever tried to enter, but if they had, they would no doubt have been driven off by the great, three-eyed giant that the world's creator had left behind.
Now, the door was sealed and hidden, and there was a twisted, depraved creature shackled to the wall by great chains and ancient magic. Balon was his name. He had been commanded to spend an eternity alone in the deeps of the sea, guarding some holy artifact that he had never even seen. For a time, Balon had done as he was told, but the solitude was maddening. The fish down here were dark, spiteful things that hated the light above and those that lived in it. In time, their malice rubbed off on the guardian. When his creator and master left, Balon realized his freedom. Abandoning his post, he climbed up the rocky walls of the trench and clambered up onto the ocean's shores, then went about reaving and murdering.
Entire villages fell before the giant, who could pound a man into the ground just as easily as he could strike him down with a bolt of magical lightning. Those men that he did not kill or devour, he enslaved. For a time, Balon was king of the land, the shore, and the ocean's blackest reaches. He had a great palace built by the sea. He taxed his subjects to the brink of starvation so that he could have a mountain of gold and jewels to call his own. Some tales would have it that he fathered half a hundred monstrous children; the first of the trolls, cyclopes, and other filth that plagued Elysium to this day.
And then the creator returned, enraged to see what had happened in his absence. Balon's great palace fell like a mere sandcastle before nature's onslaught; hurricanes and earthquakes scattered its stones across the whole continent and buried the vaults of gold beneath a thousand tons of rubble and a mile of seawater. Balon was ordered back to his post, and cursed to die if he ever set foot on dry land again. Out of spite and contempt, the giant sought to ruin what he could not have. Within the depths of his sea cave there was a great cauldron. He coerced the marine creatures to bring him all sorts of strange things from all corners of the planet, and then for nearly a decade, he stirred and mixed poisons in his great cauldron. At last, when he deemed his brew ready, he grabbed an eel and tossed it into the cauldron. The black fluid inside rotted the poor creature's flesh and blistered its skin. The writhing, still living creature splashed some of the fluid in one of the giant's three eyes, before dying. The plague nearly killed Balon, but alas, the land was not so lucky. The sickness eventually left the corrupted guardian, although the magic and the toxins lingered. That eye never saw again; and neither did any creature unfortunate enough to be caught by that blind eye's stare, as they were doomed to meet the same fate as the eel.
Balon released the vile fluid into the ocean, and exerted his command over the sea. The currents carried the plague to ports, and men began dying like flies, helpless against the magical disease. Needless to say, the creator was infuriated at this second betrayal, and cursed the treacherous guardian with every ailment he could think of before having him imprisoned at the depths of the world for the rest of time. Balon was wrought with the symptoms of his own disease; he lost sight in yet another of his three eyes, his skin turned black as coal, and his bones and muscles deteriorated to the point that it was a struggle to move; a fight to stay alive.
The fish that darted into the cave at last reached its master. The giant was still a king of the sea, even in chains. He still wore ancient bronze armor, covered in intricate runes and enchantments. At his side was a great spear and a shield; to look at them at remember what he once had hurt Balon almost as much as the curse. The giant was careful not to look at this fish, but not so much out of kindness. The creatures of the trench had been growing more and more rebellious and unruly, seeing that the tyrant wasn't as powerful as in the older days. If this fish died, Balon might very well starve to death with none of the others willing to bring food.
With an unusual amount of ease, Balon reached out with his hand to take the food from the fish's mouth. The ancient chains rattled, and as they did so, something caught Balon's eye: a little speck of rust had formed on his otherwise immaculate shackles. It took a moment to realize what this meant. And then, for the first time in centuries, the giant guffawed. His laughter was a scary thing to hear, even distorted by the water. At last! These chains were immune to rust and impossible to break; being tied to the creator, they would last until the end of time. Or the end of the creator's life, it would seem. With his body strengthening as the chains and magical force field around him weakened, it would seem that the accursed giant had outlived the righteous, arrogant fool that he hated.
Balon looked at his spear and shield. He remembered the thrill of battle, the power he had once wielded, the lands he had conquered. That gave him the strength to break free. With a thunderous sound, the giant pulled so hard that his chains were ripped out of the rock wall. Although they were still attached to his wrists, that was of little matter. Nothing could impede him, nothing would stand between the giant and the freedom that he had reminisced over for so long. The six yard tall giant snatched up his spear and shield, then stood tall. If he were not underwater, Balon would have likely fallen down. His muscles were still weak from the curse, and sitting for a few centuries meant that he almost had no balance; however, that didn't stop him. A few hours later, the bronze-clad sea giant was clambering back onto the shore. The sea was no longer harmonious, by any standards; a horrendous storm had rolled in to herald the old king's return. It felt good to walk on solid land once more.
It's good that you're taking the time to really plan out your characters. A few times I've fallen into the trap of making a character that I thought would be awesome, but soon grow to dislike and abandon.
Your construct idea sounds good. Your keeper could work, too, although it's a bit unconventional... Having your expertise being to help other Keepers' creatures will make your guy weaker in other aspects. A more aggressive Keeper with no interest in making friends might try to take your dungeon rather than ally.
So yeah, keep tossing around ideas until you're ready to post. Getting a few pages behind shouldn't screw you over much, at least in the long run.
Your construct idea sounds good. Your keeper could work, too, although it's a bit unconventional... Having your expertise being to help other Keepers' creatures will make your guy weaker in other aspects. A more aggressive Keeper with no interest in making friends might try to take your dungeon rather than ally.
So yeah, keep tossing around ideas until you're ready to post. Getting a few pages behind shouldn't screw you over much, at least in the long run.
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