Lugubrious

Unlikely Heroes

The sand awoke before Adam did. Stray particulates, masked by the darkness on the inside of the van, levitated into the still, stuffy air and began to coalesce. By the time that Vida was sufficiently awake to begin panicking, enough of the sand had accumulated a few inches above the floor near Adam's feet to form a little shape. Though anyone squinting closely enough through the invasive darkness would be able to see it was a four-legged creature of some sort, its identifiable characteristics stopped there. This animal shared the characteristics of a number of others, having a doglike body, very angular years, a forked tail, and a curved snout--a Typhonic beast. Once fully formed, measuring about a foot long and eight inches tall, the sand creature padded its way toward Adam's head to nuzzle it, grating its coarse surface against the middle-aged man's stone-gray stubble. Even when Pat's low voice broke the smothering silence present in the van's interior, the animal pursued its task.

Finally, Adam awoke. He emerged from a dreamless, thoughtless void of darkness to a crowded, overwarm, confined darkness lined with his own sand. With a grumble he raised both palms to his forehead, kneading the skin there to chase away the sluggish, early-morning feeling. His mouth was bone-dry, probably from sleeping with his mouth open yet again. Adam quickly realized that the chances of there being coffee in this place were slim to none, so he slowly sat up against a smooth wall to rub the forced sleep away. A nudge in his side distracted him from this task, and when he blearily looked down he found the little sand animal rubbing up against him like a pet that wanted attention. Ignoring the other people in the van -or perhaps simply not aware of there existence yet-, he tentatively stroked its long head with a forefinger and middle finger. In response, the creature stretched lazily, much the same as a dog. Just as Adam was beginning to enjoy the construct, however, the van hit a slight bump and whatever force held the animal in cohesion was broken, scattering the sand on the floor again.

For the first time, Adam realized he wasn't alone. He stared at the other humans with a look of worry etched upon his features; he wasn't sure whether to feel afraid, guilty, or just embarrassed for so shamefacedly exposing his secret. None of them seemed particularly malicious, particularly not the young woman who seemed to regard him as a danger, recoiling in horror. Still, Adam couldn't shake the feelings of confusion and helplessness that were really starting to upset him. The others were asking the same questions he thought to, however, so he remained quiet.

Unlikely Heroes

I admit to not being very active, but I've mostly been waiting for material to avoid a single-paragraph Adam-wakes-up-in-a-cell post. There haven't been nearly as many Reformer posts as TSP posts, so there's less to work off of, but I'll definitely get going while the getting's good.

Dungeon Keepers

Finally, the dappled sunlight shone through the thick, rolling clouds. Sprinkles of rain still fell, but the torrents of Biblical proportions were gone. Steam began to rise from the foliage as the midday sunlight, kept at bay by the cloud cover, beat down upon it and evaporated the residual water. Clotho, having spent a good hour traversing the dense jungle on foot, was relieved when she stretched her transparent wings and found them dry enough for sustained flight. Her Dungeon loomed above her, but even had it not been such a mammoth landmark, the essence of her soul imbued in her Heart would have guided her back to it. After a few experimental beats of her wings, she took to the air, searching for an empty hive chamber. On the way, she called out to any imps she caught a glimpse of to follow her.

She found a suitable room about halfway up the trunk, plastered against the blighted wood. Beetles swarmed around it, and six of her fifteen available Drone Imps were on hand to carry out her orders. Clotho tore an entrance into the cocoon-like structure and landed within, followed by her minions. The chamber was large, vacant but for a few fat wood beetles whose shells glistened in the dim light, and it was well-supported thanks to numerous support strands outside. Its position, structure, and connections to other parts of the hives allowed it to serve as a central hub, and the role that Clotho had in mind for it suited the theme well. After determining the chamber to be satisfactory, she removed the head biomancer's pendant from about her neck and pried it apart with her claws. Inside the iron casing was a bead of viridian amber, practically dripping with sheer life force. The power contained within the bead almost caused Clotho to salivate, and she experienced a strong urge to consume it, but her sense kicked in. Instead, she placed it in a groove on the underside of her left forearm's carapace.

The effect was instantaneous. The glow of the crystal, signifying the life energy contained within, drained into Clotho's forearm and scrambled the localized genetic material. Before her eyes, the shell covering both the forearm and the entire upper arm melted, churning with magic and making rather horrific crackling and squishing noises. It was an unpleasant experience, but Clotho kept a cool head, carefully exerting her control over the magic. If she failed, the energy could spread like a cancer, warping her entire body and killing her, or worse.

Luckily, she succeeded. Her will proved stronger than the entropy of the released life magic, and the material that constituted her arm reformed itself into an improved shape. Now the carapace took the appearance of armor, an ornate layout of vambrace, rerebrace, spaulder, and pauldron. In addition to provided Clotho with new defensive capabilities in combat, a needle-like protrusion extended from the front of the vambrace portion—an evil-looking stinger, literally dripping with corrupted life energy. Clotho had great plans for this biological weapon, schemes that would give her an unfair advantage in any situation: a venom that could nullify magic. Though uncultured at the moment, Clotho knew that with enough tinkering her fell concoction would have the ability to render even the magic of fellow Keepers useless for a limited time, forcing them to fight her on her own turf: physical combat. Before any of that, however, the poison would have to be concocted. Once perfected in a laboratory of some sort, it could be incorporated into Clotho's biological repertoire and used freely as her own body manufactured more.

Though the specialized toxins were beyond her reach at the moment, the Stinger remained a potent tool through which Clotho could exert her will. Extending the needle, the Swarm Keeper rammed it into the floor of the chamber, releasing a wave of her magic that formed into more summoning portals for imps and flooded the room with life energy. Once another ten had been summoned, Clotho addressed them all. “I have imbued this room with my corruption. You will construct here, using my life essence as a base, a Living Foundry where we can grow weapons for our horde. Like the ant cultivates mushrooms to provide food, you will cultivate organisms that produce our arms. The Myrmidons require spears and shields; I expect that them to be the first products of this Foundry.”

She paused for a moment before continuing. In the silence, the squelches and stretching of the corrupted life magic could be heard. “Higher in the tree, among the leaves, you will build an apothecary where new toxins may be developed.” Walking among the group of drones, she single out the largest, most vicious-looking individual and laid a clawed hand on its shelled shoulder. She remembered that it had been the first, and the quickest, to obey her orders when the frameworks for the Dungeon were first being made. “You will accompany me to my Heart. While in the future I can divine transformative serums to create a construct, that cannot be done without the laboratory. As such, you get your due promotion the hard way. Lucky you.”

Status:
0/3 Drone Imp Construct
0/3 Living Foundry
0/6 Apothecary
Location: Dungeon
Dungeon: Jungle north of Saploya River, N16°W12° An incomplete and unfurnished yet vast hive spanning the length, width, and height of a massive, ancient tree in the jungle. The hive itself is constructed of a magically-created liquid that expands and hardens into a stiff, paperlike substance upon exposure to air. The main body of the hive is suspended by countless support struts that reach for hundreds of feet in every direction. The Dungeon Heart is situated at the very top of the tree. Currently has: Dungeon Heart, Myrmidon Spawner.
Forces: 25 Drone Imps, 48 Myrmidons

Dungeon Keepers

Rain fell in sheets over the rooftops of Virens, sliding off their cleverly-designed tiles like droplets off a duck's back onto the cobblestones below. Wherever possible, Clotho dodged beneath the eaves in her flight from the Biomancer's guild. Though she did not fear the magicians, whether trying to fight or simply sounding the alarm, exhilaration filled her with the irrepressible urge to flee with her stolen loot. The amulet, clutched against her chest by her claws, throbbed with life energy. Clotho guessed that it functioned as a power source or at least astral focus for the Biomancers, and would aid the development of her domain immensely. A more immediate concern, however, was the rain; tropical deluges seldom lasted more than a few minutes at a time, but this storm seemed to be intent on sticking around. Already the broad, cluttered streets of Virens were utterly waterlogged, and every step Clotho took created a noisy splash to be drowned out by the cacophony of sound. Clotho relied almost totally upon her innate night vision at this point, so dark were the heavens. The same eyes that guided her to the edge of the town, however, proved to be a hindrance as well.

Roughly fifty feet from point at which main street became a road meandering out of town through the dense jungle copse, Clotho halted. Standing in her way were four biomancers, if their moss-infused robes were anything to go by, as well as five town guards armed with machetes and longbows. Though Clotho knew the luminescence of her eyes and the filched pendant partially gave her away, but she still might have been able to slip by undetected had not an obtrusive lightening flash illuminated her form. Upon seeing her, the soaked company recoiled One of the biomancers, a broad-shouldered man with vast, bristly sideburns, released a powdery mist from his hands that the rain carried into the ground, where tiny vines poked through cracks in the cobblestone and began to grow thorns. One guard identified himself as some sort of officer by announcing in a deep baritone, “Careful, fellas. This ain't no common thief. Form a...”

A sudden thunderclap crushed any chance of hearing the supposed captain's commands or replying to them. No matter--Clotho had no intention of exchanging words. Her rapier whipped into position and she darted forward, running fast and low. The humans stood no chance. Though valiant, the near-blackness denied them a clear target, and Clotho was among them like a wolf among hens. She twisted to and fro, lashing limbs and weapon around in a maelstrom of terror. Her weapon of choice had no slashing or cutting power, but a painful sting served as both a distraction and a lead to be followed up with a hard-shelled kick. Instead, Clotho impaled each target in turn with her barbed rapier; the cruel weapon slid into the warm bodies easily, barely even making them bleed. When the blade was yanked out, however, the barbs brought everything they pierced with them in an eruption of gore.

The last person alive, an elderly female biomancer, gasped faintly as the rapier's needle-sharp tip sprouted out of from between her breasts from behind. She was already on her knees, so Clotho knelt to whisper in her ear lest the rain drown her out. “Let's have a little chat, woman to woman.” The crone shivered violently, burping out little sobbing noises that might have been pleas were she not so terrified. “What is the purpose of your leader's amulet? You wouldn't have tried to face a skilled thief in the dark, pouring rain, with guards most likely asleep moments ago, were it not important.”

Clotho's victim made no sign of understanding. Clearly the Swarm Keeper had erred in her extermination of the more able humans first. With a disappointed groan, Clotho rose halfway to her full height, prepared to brutalize the crone's body with a quick pull of her weapon's hilt. As she twisted the blade, the old woman finally cried out, “Life! Manipulate...living things...lumber...produce...livestock. The amulet is the magic of the guild!”

Dozens of tiny, sawlike teeth were bared in a smile. The news was better than anything Clotho could have hoped for. She bent over the stabbed biomancer and carefully fed the rapier -which had no crossguard- through the woman's body. When the weapon was finally out, only tiny entry and exit wounds remained, barely bleeding. Their owner would live, but Clotho happily hypothesized that the events of this damp afternoon would render her a total lunatic for however many months she had left to live.

Clotho stalked away into the jungle, armed with the potential to manipulate life.

Status:
Location: Virens
Dungeon: Jungle north of Saploya River, N16°W12° An incomplete and unfurnished yet vast hive spanning the length, width, and height of a massive, ancient tree in the jungle. The hive itself is constructed of a magically-created liquid that expands and hardens into a stiff, paperlike substance upon exposure to air. The main body of the hive is suspended by countless support struts that reach for hundreds of feet in every direction. The Dungeon Heart is situated at the very top of the tree. Currently has: Dungeon Heart, Myrmidon Spawner.
Forces: 15 Drone Imps, 39 Myrmidons

Dungeon Keepers

Clotho paced her Dungeon Heart, filled to the brim with excitement and energy but unsure how to utilize it best. The tropical afternoon sun shone brightly down on the jungle, smothering it in humidity, but a stirring breeze from the south forewarned some sort of tempest on the way. Right now, Clotho wanted nothing more than to take off and careen through the skies, reveling in her power and freedom and a semblance of the child that she used to be. Deep within, however, she knew that the mantle of a Keeper embodied both diligence and seriousness, and so she stalked her lofty chamber with ideas flitting through her head like bees seeking the richest flower to sponge for honey. Her instincts told her that there were others out there, Keepers like her, who wouldn't be struggling with the issue of maturity. The knowledge imparted to her by the sting would only serve her so far, and the memories of the being whose insect avatar had stung her indicated that bloodthirsty expansionism wasn't wise. Searching for a solution, Clotho's ringed yellow eyes probed the corners of her Heart chamber, taking in the empty shelves, the empty chairs, the empty cocoon, and the gradually darkening sky. Before becoming the Swarm Keeper, Clotho had been nothing, empty like this room—it was up to her to fill it. A moment later, an idea struck her, the gossamer wings unfurled, and Clotho shot from the room up into the heavens. The scent of rain was in the air, but before the drops fell a little operation was in order.

Hundreds of feet below, in the hollow at the base of the tree, the Myrmidon brood was thriving. The first generation, sixteen strong, was hatched and had already bored deep gashes into the roots of the King Tree, where they feasted upon the wood. The heartwood of this colossal tree was in a viscous sap that, aside from being very nutritious, was also infused with magical essence, concentrated in the plant over many centuries. This sticky, arcane resin might have served as the prized commodity of the Virens Biomancers' Guild, which revered it for its ability to hasten the growth of living things, but instead it fed the swelling horde of Myrmidons, augmenting their growth rather than that of the Virens economy. By tomorrow, several generations of the ant warriors would be battle-ready.

The storm rolled in sooner than anticipated. Shrugging off the first few spatters of water on her shell, Clotho was nevertheless forced to land in Virens as the clouds burst into a tropical deluge. She alighted in the forest just outside the city, preserved to keep the place scenic, and carefully folded her wings around her to keep the rain off. There was no chance of disguising herself as a human; her unnaturally long arms and legs, coupled with her height of seven feet and very inhuman exoskeleton, meant she would be spotted in an instant. The pouring rain was both a blessing and a curse, for while the greater part of the townspeople would have fled indoors, the power of flight was denied to Clotho if her wings were doused.

She remembered well the location of the Biomancers' Guild, having been drawn to often as a human. As she dashed through the town on articulated talons, she quickly recognized its flamboyantly decorated exterior, even in the half-light of the storm. After ascending its marble steps she pushed her way in through a thick kapok door that had once been painfully hard to budge.

Only twice had she ever seen the interior in her years of living in poverty in Virens. The snooty Guild magicians were no philanthropists, but they were definitely raking it in if their décor was to be any indicator. In a town with the primary export of wood, the ability to manipulate life with magic commanded a handsome income. A carpet woven to resemble grass extended across the entire floor, covered with fine wooden chairs, desks, books, etcetera. A cheery fire, the only light in the room, crackled in a pit on the east wall, where two magicians rested in high-backed seats. As the door blew shut behind Clotho, one of the men -whose striped green robe identified him as an administrator, called out without turning to look, “Vit, is that you? We've been waitin' for ages. Bring the wine over 'ere and take a seat, get warm.”

Clotho briefly smiled, showing a few fangs, before taking a few steps in their direction. As she approached, she raised her left hand and activated her magic. “You coming or what? Vitreus?” The magician shifted his weight and turned around just in time to see a glob of paper fluid sail past him and splatter onto the fire. In the instant before the blaze was extinguished, he beheld Clotho's inhuman body and sinister, grinning face. A low, guttural yelp issued from his stunned lips, “uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh!” and the room plunged into darkness except for a faintly glowing amulet around the leader's neck. He scrambled out of his chair and into the hardening liquid hive-material, where a wet sploch signified that he was stuck. His elderly companion, terrified and confused, slipped on a puddle of goo and hit the ground hard, where he half-consciously covered his head with his arms. Clotho strode forward through the shadow, her luminous yellow gaze able to pierce the darkness. The man's lips quivered, no words forming from the breath he gasped out. Clotho knelt before him, rapier drawn, and plucked his amulet. A second later a flash of lightening lit up the room, and the two men were alone. Outside the thunder boomed.

Status:
Location: King Tree, jungle north of Saploya River, N16°W12°
Dungeon: An incomplete and unfurnished yet vast hive spanning the length, width, and height of a massive, ancient tree in the jungle. The hive itself is constructed of a magically-created liquid that expands and hardens into a stiff, paperlike substance upon exposure to air. The main body of the hive is suspended by countless support struts that reach for hundreds of feet in every direction. The Dungeon Heart is situated at the very top of the tree. Currently has: Dungeon Heart, Myrmidon Spawner.
Forces: 15 Drone Imps, 17 Myrmidons

Dungeon Keepers

Nestled in the warm, restrictive binds of her cocoon, Clotho finished her plan. She had wasted no time in her design, favoring function over form and exhibiting a clear lack of patience or mercy in her design. The first creatures fabricated by Keepers were, as a rule, weak, dumb, and unremarkable, but nevertheless Clotho had put her every effort into the blueprint. She reasoned that while her ability to endow her primary minion with offensive prowess was limited, she could somewhat resist the equally fragile stereotypes of cannon fodder and glass cannon by focusing primarily on defense. Intelligence and strategy were, contrary to all impressions, two of Clotho's most prized qualities. The semblance of a raging, mindless bug queen would undoubtedly be useful later.

Strategy was, in fact, the number one asset of the Myrmidon. Though Clotho's eyes were screwed shut, she visualized it perfectly. Standing at six feet tall, four feet long, and weighing four hundred pounds, the Myrmidons featured the lower body of ants and rather humanesque torsos—a twisted sort of centaur. Their dark yellow carapaces, tough, edged with small spikes, and extremely fibrous, would be able to take most conventional means of attack with little damage. Moreover, Clotho planned to equip them with huge chitin shields and long, barbed spears for maximum defensive prowess. In close quarters, Though Myrmidons wouldn't be particularly threatening in terms of raw power, they served excellently as protectors and enforcers; other creatures would be created down the road for raw destructive might.

With a wet crunch Clotho tore out of her cocoon, leaving half of it in shreds. In her clawed left hand she held a little yellow egg, hard-shelled and spiky. After a brief stretch, she extended her wings and took off through the hole in the ceiling, zooming from the King Tree's zenith toward its base. When she arrived, she could only confess herself pleased with what she saw. The undercanopy of her arboreal home was a chaotic, frightening tangle of paper and plant. Large amounts of this jungle's native arthropods had gathered everywhere, a phenomenon Clotho hadn't foreseen. Perhaps their instincts had guided them to their knew home, or their tiny minds had sensed the Swarm Keeper's potential. In the span of only a few moments, Clotho recognized an ant hill, several picturesque spiderwebs, and a bustling beehive. She couldn't help but feel a certain kinship with -or perhaps subconscious urge to rule- all these bugs, but there would be bigger, better bugs to nurture. The Myrmidon was exactly that, and the species needed a chamber to call home.

Clotho landed on the leaf litter outside a huge crevice at the tree's base. Here a drone imp had constructed a shelter, like the dwelling of a trapdoor spider, that fed into the root-strewn cave. Perfect. Clotho strolled in, egg in hand, and promptly evicted the imp. It left its own nest without protest, standing silently nearby should its master require its service. Clotho placed the egg in the imp's nest before stepping back and poking it with a magic-infused rapier. Instantly the egg rocked, wreathed in the same vile energies Clotho had used in her previous summonings. A minute later, it hatched in an explosion of magic, growing to full size in the span of seconds. The Myrmidon was everything Clotho had hoped, six feet of durable, spiked shell built like a tank. Beneath its feet, the magic spread throughout the chamber, converting what used to be an imp's habitation into the spawning grounds for the Myrmidon race. New eggs swelled into existence from creepy, plantlike veins as a thick fume filled the air. More than satisfied, Clotho pushed her way out of the trapdoor and into the shade cast by her half-built hive.

Status:
First Minion: 3/3
Location: King Tree, jungle north of Saploya River, N16°W12°
Dungeon: An incomplete and unfurnished yet vast hive spanning the length, width, and height of a massive, ancient tree in the jungle. The hive itself is constructed of a magically-created liquid that expands and hardens into a stiff, paperlike substance upon exposure to air. The main body of the hive is suspended by countless support struts that reach for hundreds of feet in every direction. The Dungeon Heart is situated at the very top of the tree. Currently has: Dungeon Heart, Myrmidon Spawner.
Forces: 15 Drone Imps, 1 Myrmidon
Compendium
First Creature – the Myrmidon. 6” tall, 4” long ant-centaur sort of thing. Though it does have a humanoid torso, it is still totally enclosed by a carapace that is tough, fibrous, and spiky all in one. Usually outfitted with both body-length shield and long spear, and can fight with claws and mandibles in close quarters. Built for survivability.

Pokémon Mystery Dungeons: The Unsettling Future

Don't bother. This is utterly dead. Just let it rot in peace and pursue other opportunities.

Unlikely Heroes

If you've ever wanted to be an evil overlord (somewhat more evil than the Reformers) this one's for you. Check it out.

Unlikely Heroes

Would it make everyone here loathe me if I were to link a respectable roleplay that needs members?

Dungeon Keepers

A wise remark, Bbeast. Considering my forces currently consist of fifteen two-foot insectoid paper mache-spitters, I think I'll wait to act upon it.