Shu

Deify

God of Think Mark Meme Variants

Deify

God of The Nine Hundredth Post.

Deify

God of the East Coast - the Sword of the Atlantic at his hip.

The Avatar Upstairs

He seems like a really decent kind of guy but that never ending and sharply precise pen scratching is grating on my nerves. It was kind of a charm in itself but now I even hear it in my sleep…

Ah well, perhaps if I ask politely then surely…

Come into my Parlor… 💀

The Drow blinked, the smug air about her slipping away in slight. The human man was strangely whimsical and rather… forward as well. Most humans who wandered in here - even the bravest of warriors who’s armor now ornamented her lair - never had such a self assure and loose persona. Nor were they so bold as to tell her to get out of her own sanctum. Or make suggestions towards servitude.

She found herself chuckle slightly, shaking her head, “The gal… you saunter in here so sure of yourself - never mind the bones of your kind lining my walls - and think to drive me from my own sanctuary. I knew humans were dull of wit but I've never encountered one so foolish before.”
Giving her staff a twirl she stepped into a small upraised rock nearby, torchlight casting an imposing shadow on the wall behind her. “My name is Larafan, the last name you’ll ever hear, human. Know that by walking in here so brazen you have sealed your fate as to die by my hand. My magic will see you flayed and I will feast upon your flesh and drink blood from your skull.”

With a stride forward Larafan stepped down from her stone pedestal and raised her staff, gripping the shaft with both hands and muttering a short incantation. An orb of gray appeared atop the carved staff and began to swell outwards like a ghastly bubble. There was a pulse of energy and the orb expanded outward in a sudden motion, spreading across the floor and reaching out into the air with a slight whistling sound as it engulfed everything in a gloomy,blinding miasma. Fog - thick and murky, reaching across the entire chamber save for the farthest corners.

Larafan’s voice carried through the unseen across the chamber, “You were a fool to come here, and I will see you die trembling in terror.”

Come into my Parlor… 💀

RESERVED

Come into my Parlor… 💀

RESERVED

Come into my Parlor… 💀

Most people would avoid wandering into the depths of a dark, foreboding cave. Especially on a night such as this, where the pale face of the moon leered dimly through the thin blanket of dark clouds that covered the night sky. Be it through mere superstition or the fear of wondering into the den of a bear, or something worse. But Shazar Talaudrym was not most people.

A traveler and adventurous sort he always embraced the chance to search for treasure or other valuables that might be lost within a decrepit ruin or other place. Such as a brooding cave tucked away within a small grove of trees, emanating a foul aurora that would drive many a man away. Gnarled stalactites at the mouth of the cave were shaped like the craggy misshapen teeth of a roaring monster, the sound of a low wind circulating within resembled a haunting moan.

Unwavering and determined, Shazar Talaudrym entered the cave. Not knowing what lay ahead but willing to brave any possible danger.

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Unbeknown to Shazar this cave was in fact occupied, a lair for one so reclusive. He was not the first to have found it as he was not the first to dare to wander inside hoping to find something of value. Those before instead finding only their doom, their bones, rusted weapons, and broken shards of armor littered the stone floor inside.

A trail of the deceased seemed to lead down the narrow entrance into a small antechamber. Small piles of skulls were tucked in the corners, scattered remains and discarded equipment lay about. All that was left of what were once daring knights and dashing rogues full of pride and purpose. A foul stench filled the air, a combination of must, mold, and decay. The moan of the gliding breeze maintained as a thin fog skirted the corners and ceiling. Torches lined the cave wall, billowing about illuminating the cave with a golden light.

”Well, well…” a voice broke through the echo of the breeze, ”what have we here?”

A thin shadow etched around a nearby corner, painted along the wall by a nearby torchlight. ”It seems I have a visitor. It’s certainly been a while.” A cracked, jawless skull came bouncing across the hard floor, kicked from around the corner. ”It’s always lovely when fresh meat walks through my front door.” It was a woman’s voice, low and hoarse.

The voice’s owner turned the corner now fully visible in the torchlight. A Drow woman, thin and short like most of their kind. Her skin a deep ash gray, her flowing hair as white as snow. She was dressed in rather revealing robes with thigh high boots and a flowing black cape, her shoulders and arms covered by very thin pads and gauntlets better suited as clothing than proper armor. In her left hand she carried a long staff of carved bones, most looked to be human or the like.

A wry smirk etched at her mouth as she eyed the stranger who had wondered into her lair. “Well, aren’t you the strapping specimen? Tell me; did no one ever tell it is rude to intrude upon someone’s home?”

ᖴOᖇGOTTEᑎ ᖇEᗩᒪᗰᔕ 🌙 The Ring of Aduzahir

The wealthy pasha watched and listened as the entrants introduced themselves. The largest of the group, a towering Dragonborn, was the most capturing at first glance and the first to address him. Even as weathered as he seemed he was impressive in his own way, bestial and intimidating and yet seemingly civil. The titles “Brandon” shared were unfamiliar to the pasha and frankly he did not care enough about titles of those not from Calimshan to even feign an impressed look. Still, a Dragonborn knight would definitely be useful in what was to come. This was enough to earn a nod from the pasha, a slight one. While he found such beings as useful in their own way they were not his equals and he would spare them the barest of courtesy for business affairs alone.

The second to address Jakeem was far more impressing upon him. A woman endowed with the finest wares of the nobility of Calimport, silks and jewelry, and not to mention such a seizing countenance behind the veil she shed away. Her skin and face was that of a Calishite and yet golden hair lochs of a northerner billowed down past her face and shoulders. Obviously a halfbreed, or perhaps magic? Little mattered in truth, Jakeem sensed she was a refined woman and well cultured, thus proven when she spoke annunciating herself and bowing before the pasha, greeting him properly to custom. There was something alluring about her and it was not simply her smoldering beauty. The markings on her skin, the grace she carried in the simplest movement, her voice like melted caramel, she was wondrous. But Jakeem was a restrained man and had more than enough experience dealing with fine women, offering her a more obvious nod and a bright smile. A sorceress? An enchantress…?

The third was another woman, mind you far less polished than the marvelous specimen whom had just exchanged with him. Her clothing, the crude tattoos, even her weapons, Jakeem knew her type before she even spoke, her plain addressing of him asserting that she was a typical uncultured roguish wanderer having made her way here in search of coin. Like the Dragonborn all she received was a simple nod lacking a smile.

Then came the fourth and perhaps the most most undesirable of the lot, or so the pasha hoped. He looked to be little more than an elderly beggar, ragged clothes stained and reeking. He had no sort of weapons other than the ropes tied about his wrists and forearms which Jakeem assumed perhaps to relate to a form of martial art. The man’s entire appearance was unsavory in itself and his informal greeting just made Jakeem not like him that much more. The guards on either side were looking slightly around half expecting the order to have the old street rat removed. It did not come. The pasha merely grumbled slightly and managed a half nod. Even as rank as this man was Jakeem had learned that with adventurous types as these - social inferiors as they were - not to let their appearances fool him. That didn’t mean he had to like them of course.

Stifling a slight gag Jakeem breathed into his hand as the fifth arrival approached. A dainty elven girl armed only with a staff. She was oddly energetic compared to the others and while seemingly polite she was still an uncultured dahyarif in the end. The bow for what it held was soured by her dropping her berries all over the floor, to which Jakeem slightly gritted his teeth.

The final member of this ragtag collection approached. A Drow man, heavily armed and armored. Elves always proved hard to gauge but Jakeem figured this one to be rather experienced and rather aged. ”Greetings Jakeem el Kalil,” the dark elf made a proper annuv and bowed deeply, keeping his head low as he spoke ,”I am Altonas.” He stood upright after a moment, saying nothing else, merely clasping his hands behind his back and standing firm and straight. Jakeem didn’t much care for Drow, typically they were devil worshiping thieves and cultists. This one seemed amiable enough, but Jakeem learned long ago not to let one polite smile endear you to an entire people. Much less such an ill reputed race as the Drow. But a Drow would be useful in various ways diving into the depths of an ancient ruin.

Jakeem took a moment to consider the entire lot. The Dragonborn and Drow - Brandon and Altonas - were both very well armed and presumably veterans of extensive combat. Zasheir - or “Lumal” - was an uncertainty as was the elven girl Arrora, but both were surely capable of taking care of themselves and were at least two extra pairs of hands for the expedition. The other two women were undoubtedly able enough as well, Jakeem had no doubt about that.

Jakeem cleared his throat, partially to expel the lingering smell of body odor that seemed to radiate from Zasheir.
“It is good you have come. No doubt you all have heard tell of the expedition I am planning, and you know I seek able bodied individuals to aid me in my pursuit.”

“Do not forget the high pay.” Altonas interjected with sudden abrasiveness.

Jakeem snickered slightly, reaching to twist at his goatee, “Yes, Drow, never forget the high pay. Do not worry you will be rewarded, all of you. But not now. I do not give reward in advance. If that bothers any of you then leave.”

The pasha expected one or two of the group to turn on their heels and stride out, but happily none did. He saw a few irritated looks but overall they all seemed obliged to stay and hear him out. “Excellent,” Jakeem said, a leery smile crossing his face, “then I shall further explain. We will be traveling out of the city across the desert to an ancient ruin. I have already had my men secure it properly, but I need… ‘skilled’ individuals willing to brave these ruins in search of a very specific relic that I seek. I cannot risk sending a large force into the ruins, far too heavy of hand. You seem the capable bunch, if you work together you should have no trouble. Besides, no one person can dare that place alone.”

“What exactly is this place?” Altonas asked, beating anyone else to the question.

Jakeem smiled, “It is an ancient sanctuary from an age long past. It is ridden with traps and… vermin, if you will. It holds valuable treasures as well as a certain item I desire. I will tell you more after we depart. The day is wasting away and I very much am anticipating reaching the ruins, if we leave now we will arrive just before sunset. I will have camels saddled for those of you without a steed of sorts. I suggest you fill your flasks, the desert is an unforgiving beast.”

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Jakeem had done as he said and provided camels for those who had no mount of their own. Well fed and well rested, the camels were a fine choice in riding out over the unforgiving Calim desert. Accompanying them were a dozen of the pasha’s best men as well as a handful of scouts who could be seen shadowing their small caravan at a distance, crossing over nearby dunes and ridges watching for trouble.

Six of Jakeem’s men rode ahead by two’s with Jakeem behind them on his own mount, two more men at his back. The six hire-on’s all rode together more or less, Jakeem’s other four men at their backs spread apart in a loose formation. While the desert was mostly calm there was enough of a breeze to lift the sands to the air forcing the pasha to cowl his face, his men meanwhile shielded by the iron masks they wore.

One of the scouts had approached them a short while ago informing them they were nearing the ruins to which Jakeem expressed relief, eager to be out of the sun and dust to and sheltered within his tent. He was unsure on where the others stood on encroaching on the ruins tonight, but if he had his way they would be convinced to do so. If not, well, he had waited this long.

Shu’s Character Catalogue (Old/Defunct)

𝕷𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖋𝖆𝖓 𝕽𝖎𝖑𝖞𝖞𝖓

LARAFAN RILYYN

RACE
Drow

SEX
Female

CLASS
Sorceress LVL 10
Necromancer LVL 6

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GEAR
Robes/Standard Robes

ACCESSORIES
None

WEAPONS
Staff of Necromancy
Dagger

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SPELLS

(NOTE: This a loose categorization/listing of spells due to this character being more narrative driven than mechanics based.)

FOG CLOUD

LEVEL 1, CONJURATION

Creates a 20-foot-radius sphere of fog centered on a point within range. The sphere spreads around corners, and its area is heavily obscured. It lasts for the duration or until a wind of moderate or greater speed (at least 10 miles per hour) disperses it. At higher levels when cast the radius of the fog increases by 20 feet for each slot level above 1st.

ICE KNIFE

LEVEL 1, CONJURATION

Creates a shard of ice and flings it. On a hit, the target takes piercing damage. Hit or miss, the shard then explodes. The target and each creature within five feet of it must succeed in a dodge or take cold damage. At higher levels the cold damage increases.

MAGIC MISSILE

LEVEL 1, EVOCATION

Creates three glowing darts of magical force. Each dart hits a creature of choice that you can see within range. A dart deals force damage to its target. The darts all strike simultaneously, or can direct them to hit one creature or several. At higher levels more darts are released at cast.

WEB

LEVEL 2, CONJURATION

Conjures a mass of thick, sticky webbing at a point of your choice within range. The webs fill a 20-foot cube from that point for the duration. The webs are difficult terrain and lightly obscure their area. If the webs aren't anchored between two solid masses (such as walls or trees) or layered across a floor, wall, or ceiling, the conjured web collapses on itself.
A being restrained by the webs can use its action to make a strength check against the spell save DC. If it succeeds, it is no longer restrained. The webs are flammable. Any webs exposed to fire burns away.

CLOUD OF DAGGERS

LEVEL 2, CONJURATION

The caster fill the air with spinning daggers centered on a point they choose within range, leaving the target susceptible to slashing damage.

ANIMATE DEAD

LEVEL 3, NECROMANCY

This spell creates an undead servant. Choose a pile of bones or a corpse of a medium or small humanoid within range. The spell imbues the target with a foul mimicry of life, raising it as an undead creature. The target becomes a skeleton if bones are chose or a zombie if a corpse is chose.

The creature is under your control for twenty four hours, after which it stops obeying any command. To maintain control of the creature for another 24 hours, the caster must cast this spell on the creature again before the current twenty four hour period ends. This use of the spell reasserts your control over up to four creatures animated with this spell, rather than animating a new one.

At higher levels over two additional undead creatures for each slot level. Each of the creatures must come from a different corpse or pile of bones.

VAMPIRIC TOUCH

LEVEL 3, NECROMANCY

The touch of the casters shadow-wreathed hand can siphon life force from others to heal their wounds. On a hit the target necrotic damage and you regain hit points equal to half the amount of necrotic damage dealt.

FIREBALL

LEVEL 3, EVOCATION

A bright streak flashes from the casters pointing finger to a point chosenwithin range and then blossoms with a low roar into an explosion of flame. Each creature in a twenty foot radius sphere centered on that point is exposed. A target takes fire damage as a result. The fire spreads around corners. It ignites flammable objects in the area that aren't being worn or carried.

CREATE UNDEAD

LEVEL 6, CREATE UNDEAD

Can only be cast at night. Choose up to three corpses of Medium or small humanoids within range. Each corpse becomes a ghoul under the casters control.
When cast at higher levels the caster can animate or reassert control over five ghouls or two ghasts or wights. When cast this spell using a 9th-level spell slot, the caster can animate or reassert control over six ghouls, three ghasts or wights, or two mummies.

PRISMATIC SPRAY

LEVEL 7, EVOCATION

Eight multicolored rays of light flash from the casters hand. Each ray is a different color and has a different power and purpose. Red causes fire damage, orange is acidic, yellow is lightning damage, green is poisonous, blue is freezing damage, indigo is restraint, and violet causes blindness.

FINGER OF DEATH

LEVEL 7, NECROMANCY

Sends negative energy coursing through a creature that you can see within range, causing it searing pain. A humanoid killed by this spell rises as a zombie that is permanently under your command, following the caster’s verbal orders to the best of its ability.

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RACIAL PERKS

Darkvision: Drow have a natural ability to see in the dark.

Dexterity & Stealth: Drow are a natural stealthy & dexterous folk. Statistics TBA at a later time.