Thread 6299881

Reawaken, O great one, thy time has come at last once more. Long left scorned and forgotten, you have not forgotten the heroes who laid low both you, your fortresses, and your dominion. Now you shall rise from the ashes, reclaim your power and reign supreme once again. Let your enemies tremble at the mere mention of your name, for you are the true ruler of this land and all lands beyond it.

Alas! For it has been too long; while the darkness has kept you safe like a cloak, it has also made you forget. Time and the dark have gnawed at you for too long. For while your trick with placing your spirit within a container might have prevented your demise, it also eroded and disembodied you.

A shrivelled shadow you thus became, ignorant of yourself. Ignorant of form, ignorant of name, what scarce memories you did have of your past mostly addressed you as 'lord' or 'master'. None dared speak it, not before your personage at the very least.

Yet you were great and powerful once, the terror of a hundred kings. Sacker of a thousand cities, master of untold legions and hordes of both disciplined blackguards and savage barbarians.
Others saw you as a god incarnate, or at the very least the high priest of a very cruel and demanding god, who was to be appeased with tributes of gold, silver and manpower. Yes, lesser princes, khans and chieftains willingly kowtowed and fought over your ever-fickle favour.

But all of that is gone now, scattered to the wind; your empire fell with you. No servant could ever keep it together. As you lay dying, you made your last desperate gambit. You transferred your soul out of your dying body and into an object.

Oh, it was a brilliant plan, an exit for just such a scenario. But you hadn't foreseen the consequences. It was long, too long, far too long for you to be able to do anything; you withered and diminished. Seething and crying until your spirit lost the ability to form a coherent face. Was this it? Would you spend an eternity in silent suffering? Forgotten and tormented by a world that had moved on from your greatness?

Perhaps not so, for as you lay in your diminished state, you watched from one of the gemstones, which were like windows, set within the object which you had chosen.
Choose an option.
Jewellery
>A ring
>A necklace
>A bracelet
Weapons
>A mace
>A sword
>An axe
Miscellaneous
>A grimoire
>A chalice
>A staff

>>6299881 (OP)
Good fortune thus always smiles upon you for the first time in who knew how many aeons; for the first time you began to see the light of the sun, which brought you hope anew.
The fools probably thought they had found something that they could sell at the earliest convenience for a few silver pieces, but how mistaken they will be. For little did they know that your magnificence was packed within this very artefact. But you shall be patient; see if there are suitable candidates among this group. If yes, you shall make certain to beguile them with the beauty of the gems. If there aren't, well, you'll just await someone else.

>The delicate thin fingers, both of them share them, brother and sister both, the brother with the waxed moustache, and the sister with her frilly locks, nobles then, ever eager to get a leg up.
>Five of them there are, as roady and grimy as they can be, a band of men and women both, of varying races and backgrounds. Rough and tumble adventures then, and if there's one thing you hate, it's adventures.
>Stern and sanctimonious, they stand, all wrapped in bright red cloaks with white markings: two men, warriors both, and a woman, attired in a habit, devout and innocent. Sheephounds and sheep both.
>Olive-skinned, draped from head to heel in whites and khakis, these are desert folk, hardy and resilient, with eyes that gleam against the endless sand they wander. A two men a, woman, and their camels.
>Blonde-haired, pale and cold-eyed. Savage northerners they are, clad in furs, cloth and mail, with weapons gleaming in the sunlight. A fierce trio of two men and a singular woman.
>An odd trio, a merchant fat and indolent, a scholar lean and frail, and a warrior strong and stoic, set out on a journey together to uncover the secrets of a long-lost civilization.

>>6299882
>A Chalice
Nobody ever suspects the dishes muahahaha!


>Olive-skinned, draped from head to heel in whites and khakis, these are desert folk, hardy and resilient, with eyes that gleam against the endless sand they wander. A two men a, woman, and their camels.

>>6299881 (OP)
>A necklace

>>6299882
>>Blonde-haired, pale and cold-eyed. Savage northerners they are, clad in furs, cloth and mail, with weapons gleaming in the sunlight. A fierce trio of two men and a singular woman.

>>6299881 (OP)
>A chalice
>>6299882
>Blonde-haired, pale and cold-eyed. Savage northerners they are, clad in furs, cloth and mail, with weapons gleaming in the sunlight. A fierce trio of two men and a singular woman.

>>6299881 (OP)
>A grimoire
I suspect this will make communication easier, if we can figure out how to change our text.

>>6299882
>Olive-skinned, draped from head to heel in whites and khakis, these are desert folk, hardy and resilient, with eyes that gleam against the endless sand they wander. A two men a, woman, and their camels.

>>6299881 (OP)
>A bracelet

>>6299882
>The delicate thin fingers, both of them share them, brother and sister both, the brother with the waxed moustache, and the sister with her frilly locks, nobles then, ever eager to get a leg up.

>>6299881 (OP)
>A staff
>Olive-skinned, draped from head to heel in whites and khakis, these are desert folk, hardy and resilient, with eyes that gleam against the endless sand they wander. Two men a, woman, and their camels.
Is this the quest?

I suppose I should lock the vote, so I can whip up some drawings. The chalice and desert folk won.
Have the map in the meantime.

>>6299881 (OP)
>A necklace

>>6299882
>Blonde-haired, pale and cold-eyed. Savage northerners they are, clad in furs, cloth and mail, with weapons gleaming in the sunlight. A fierce trio of two men and a singular woman.

A chalice, a perfectly ordinary piece of cutlery made to serve beverages, so none would have suspected it if you were hidden in it, the red gem in the middle acting as your eye to the rest of the world. But long had been your watching, as the sands piled and piled and the lights dimmed; there was nothing to watch, nothing to see, nothing to seethe against, nothing to hate.

Yet the sands began to shift, and for the first time in, who knew how many years, you found the beaker shaking, as sound began to return to you once more.

They spoke a language you didn't speak, though that didn't block you in the slightest, for in the olden days you ripped the tongues of the peoples straight from their thoughts, and though you weren't capable of that, you were still the world's first omniglot.

As the words flowed, you listened and learnt the phonetics, the structure, and the cadence of their speech. It was a new challenge, a new puzzle to solve, and you welcomed it with open arms, eager to have something to do for the first time.

Yet you recognised the language; though it had shifted, these were Sarrindanians, an old desert people who once acknowledged you as the avatar of their serpent god, for which they eagerly paid you great tribute.

You never directly ruled these deserts, though your loyal emirs and sheikhs did; they provided you with heaps of gold, camels and Sarrindan horses. A hint of what can best be nostalgia flowed over you; these were once some of your subjects, and you would have them kneel before you once more, but you were patient, and so you took the time to take their measure.

"We shouldn't have come here, Simbar; your treasure-hunting expeditions have cost me enough in men already." The taller one, with the full beard, said he was clearly their leader.

"You worry too much, brother. Naram, we have been doing this for a while now, and we always turned a profit.'' The younger one, with a smile and a chinstrap beard, said. He seems to be the main pusher behind them going here.

>>6300013
''That may be so, but your antics have already got us banned from one oasis, which is something the caravan cannot afford. There are other threats out here, and your insistence at coming here has weakened us for the journey ahead.'' Naram reprimanded his brother.

''How was I supposed to know that there would be this many wights in these ruins? Normally we can take them, and besides, there has to be something of worth here.'' Simbar then began scurrying about the room, throwing various rotten pieces of papyrus aside.

''There is a reason the caravans stay clear of the region around the salt lakes, and between the robbers, the giant desert spiders and scorpions and the jackals, we have enough on our plate.'' Naram clutched his weapon tightly.

''Yeah, yeah, yeah, I am sorry, Naram. Say, have you seen Samarda? I think I haven't seen her since the antechamber.'' Simbar asked.

''I think she went to search the smaller rooms; she said she will be here as soon as she's finished.''

''And indeed I did, brother; there was nothing of note to be found.'' A feminine voice, belonging to someone with a very light pace , echoed through the corridor. Naram and Simbar turned to see Samarda approaching with a confident smile on her face; she then did a somersault on the floor.

''Well, well, look who finally decided to grace us with her presence.'' Simbar teased, chuckling. Samarda laughed and replied, ''I like to keep you on your toes, brother.''

"You most certainly do, sister. Where you learnt that, I don't know, and you won't tell." Namar bemoaned.

So these three siblings would be your ticket to freedom. Well, best to put on a show to gain their attention before they leave.

You turned your attention towards.

>Namar, the leader
>Simbar, the explorer
>Samarda, the acrobat.

Because of the contentious vote, I am willing to make one small retcon, with a recast of votes for whether you want to be a chalice or a necklace.
>The Chalice
>The Necklace

>>6300014
>Samarda, the acrobat.

>The Necklace

>>6300014
>The Chalice

>Simbar, the explorer

>>6300014
>Samarda, the acrobat.
>The Necklace

>>6300014
>Namar, the leader

>The Chalice

I am sorry, but I have already put the necklace and Samarda into writing, so I suppose I'll have to invoke the QM veto here.

The girl, Samarda, is the most worthy of the bunch, you decided; someone who can do a somersault in desert garb would be a most athletic character. Even if you don't decide to return through her, she will at the very least carry you out of this place.

If she was a worthy vessel for your magnificence was something yet to be seen, but at least for the short term, any pair of legs to carry you out would do; the empire could wait, after all, you waited as well.

''Look over there, that's a nice chalice.'' Simbar exclaimed, picking it up, which made your actual vessel, the necklace, fall to the ground.

''Be careful with that cup, Simbar; you might break it if you shake it too hard.'' Namar cautioned, eyeing the delicate chalice warily. Simbar's carelessness with valuable items was a constant source of frustration for Namar.

''Ah, relax. If there was an evil djinn in it or whatever, I would have rubbed it out already.'' Simbar replied with a laugh, completely unfazed by Namar's concern.

In the meantime, you felt the fingers of Samarda pick up the necklace; it wasn't like directly being touched, but more like someone tried to touch you as if you were wearing armour – the metal wouldn't let her through.

''If he can take that chalice, then this necklace is mine.'' she said as she measured the golden chain in her hand.

''You will sell it, right?'' Simbar took on a serious tone for the first time.

''Finders keepers, slowpoke,'' she said and thumbed her nose at her.

Namar watched the exchange with a furrowed brow, unsure of what to make of the situation. Until he declared, ''Whatever, let us return to the camp for the night; we still have a long way ahead of us, and I want to be out of here as soon as possible.'' The other two complied with their elder brother.

That evening, Samarda took the necklace to her tent and examined it closely under the dim light of a lantern. You noticed there were some tools on the table, a pestle and some other things, but you decided to wait.

'What a special little thing you are. Simbar wants to sell you, but I am not so certain about that.'' She teasingly said to the necklace before putting it on.

''Well, Namar wants to be on the trail soon enough; I suppose I better go to bed before the camels wake.''

The necklace hung loosely around her neck, and for the first time, you began to feel she was asleep, and while you couldn't directly interact with her, you could do so with her thoughts. Her mind was open, and you could thus enter the fortress with the gates open.

>Try to take her measure, open her memories
>See if she'll be malleable; give her a taste of what you did in the distant past.
>Pry open her secrets, there has to be something you can use.

>>6300014
I like the art.

On the one hand Simbar is an explorer so hes probably knowledgeable. A strong fighter? Eccentric enough to be drawn into an adventure for thrills or riches. Gets himself into trouble.

On the other hand Samarda. Shes good at stealth, athletic. If she went off on her own in a dungeon she must be fairly confident in her skills. Secretive which is nice that she might not blab, or that it won't be strange if she continues to be quiet.

Namar seems like he could be the hardest to convince, with men and money. Although if being this Serpent God is worth something maybe hes the religious type.

Will we actually take a body, influence them, speak to them. Take over one of the brothers and see how close we can get to the sister.

>>6300080
>Try to take her measure, open her memories

Is second option like a wife to the Serpent God kind of proposition like appearing in her dreams, or more like Yami Yugi season 0 mind crush

>>6300080
>>Try to take her measure, open her memories

>>6300084
Opening her memories is more like seeing where she comes from and what's she like.

Seeing if she's malleable is you seeing if she is susceptible to the appeal of (re)building an evil empire, essentially.

Do mind that you don't get to play puppet master right away; that takes time.

>>6300087
Thats fine, just getting a feel for who she is and where we are is good.

Roll a 1d100, [DC80] To slip through her mental defences.

Rolled 3 (1d100)

>>6300098

>>6300084
Do mind that the cult of the Serpent God has lost a lot of its power in your absence, but it's still around here and there, nor was it the only cult you sponsored.

>>6300081

Thanks, they're supposed to be vaguely berber/bedioun with pre- and post-Islamic aesthetics, which is why they have vague semetic sounding names.

Naram has been around the sand dune once before, and know his way around, Simbar has been turning over rocks since he was little, nearly died when he was stung by a scorpion, lastly Samarda, wasn't always part of the caravan, she joined her brothers quite recently.

Rolled 31 (1d100)

>>6300098
damn thats some defense shes got

>>6300109
Simbar has similar, as both of them aren't used to having their mind being pried open, Namar, being a hard desert nomad, has better mental defences.

>>6300098
This is still the lower the better, btw.

Rolled 54 (1d100)

>>6300098

>>6300117
Oh lower the better, well okeydokey. Is there a crit range?

Rolled 36 (1d100)

>>6300098
Well, that 3 probably was good enough, but maybe I'll get a crit.

Rolled 57 (1d100)

>>6300098

Rolled 28 (1d100)

>>6300098

Rolled 70 (1d100)

>>6300098
damn, we need a high roll

You peer into her mind, brushing past what minute mental defences the natural paranoia of man grants them. You slip past them unnoticed, which allows you to take a deep dive into her memories and thoughts to see if this girl is all she says she is.

The mind is often said to be a labyrinth of thoughts, memories and emotions, but you navigate them effortlessly. You had done this before, and though it wasn't the most fun method of interrogation, it was one of the quickest around. Very clean too, if you knew what you were doing.

And what's a better way to start than with her childhood? Peering down into it, the first thing you see is the cool, secluded piece of a Near Eastern house, with its small windows. The image shifts to a young girl playing with a doll in the corner, her dark eyes full of curiosity and innocence.

That must be Samarda, still a wee lass at this point. Walking about, you find that both her parents were out in bed, ridden with a disease that would be fatal; that much you concluded when you saw the next memories.

Out on the street alone, parents dead, brothers out in the desert, and the servants took the house for themselves. Samarda thus spent the next days on the street, stealing food and other things; she's quite lucky to have never been caught.

What an ever unfortunate set of circumstances, you wanted to laugh, for misery always is a good source of entertainment, but then an old woman entered the story, talking about how her father once helped her, so now she would help her in kind.

The crone was a poisoner; of that much you were certain when you saw the insides of her home. Rows upon rows of poisons of various kinds: the slow, the fast, the painful, and the painless, all neatly organised on shelves and tables. And what's more, the emblems upon the hags' recipe books were quite clear to you. A golden serpent poised to strike, and a spider spreading its legs out in an octagon. Others had lost themselves to time and wear, but you knew the meaning of these emblems quite well: the cult of the snake god and the eightfold weaving path.
One is a cult dedicated to a vague conception of you as either their avatar or their high priest, if you remember correctly; the other is a cabal of sorcerers who believe in the power of geometric shapes and patterns to channel magic.

The hag herself turned out not to be a former snake cultist, as you had expected, but a member of an offshoot that had turned away from your worship and back into a more traditional manner of worship that was common before your coming.

That did explain some things; those snake cultists used to tattoo themselves with snakes to prove their dedication. They would also ritually drink their poison as a form of communion with their deity.

The hag, however, had no such markings and seemed to disdain the more extreme practices of her former brethren.

>>6300402
And for that, I would have you flayed. You thought as you saw the girl train with poisons, daggers, bows, and throwing daggers.
Her brothers had come by every now and then, and when she was old enough, she went with them into the wider desert, leaving behind her old home. When the day dawned, you were thoroughly satisfied with your shifting through the sands.

You had gained a toe in the door of Samarda's mind, which will allow you to send small, one-word messages to her, more a whisper than a command or suggestion, which will require more finesse and patience.

The following morning, the trio had packed up the camp, together with the rest of their companions and guards, and set off back on the desert trail. You came upon the crescent of a sand dune, and Namar explained something to Samarda.

''Over there, beyond the tomb we raided yesterday, in the distance are the twin salt lakes; no living man has set foot in there for over a millennium. Beyond that, it is rumoured, lies the valley of the kings, where untold riches and danger lie buried; none have gone there and returned.''

''Best we be off; the great desert spiders have been lessened in numbers, but they can be dangerous, as can the scorpion and other creatures. Up north there were a few demons who escaped the gaze of the westerling guards meant to keep them where they belong.''

Samarda was still somewhat new to this caravaneering business, so she had a few questions here and there.

>Where are we off too?
>Great Spiders?
>Demons in the desert?
>If this is so dangerous, why do you keep doing it?
>Write-in.

And here is a version where the dark lord provides some insightful commentary.

>>6300406
>Spelling mistake
Fuck's sake

>>6300404
>>Where are we off too?
>>Demons in the desert?

>>6300404
>Demons in the desert?
>>Great Spiders?
>Write-in.
Spider silk could help cover some of the losses. Imagine a whole outfit of spider silk. Maybe we'd even find another oasis or outlying tomb.

''Tell me, brother, where are we off to? Your caravan must have come a long way already," Samarda asked her brother.

''The next major stop is the city of Almurbah, capital of the Azamoranid Sultanate. I hope to sell most of the cargo there.'' Naram explained.

''As you can see, we're near the Great Salt Lakes. I've made out the route already travelled in black; while in red you can see the places we have yet to see. From Almurbah, we'll travel on to the port city of Qasir, known for its bustling markets and sea. Then we'll go to our furthest point west, near the trading post of Araq, before we shall turn east, to the great lake of Hayra, where we'll stock up on water. Our last stop before we return to where we started is the tower-fortress of Minatyr, where we can sell the last of our ware, I hope. The westerling knights there always buy.'' He added the last part glumly.

The silver tower of Minatyr is interesting; no such structure was there in your time. Before you return in full, you should make certain to scope out what has changed here and there. From the top to the bottom.

''Naram, why do I have the feeling that those knights are related to those demons in the desert?''

He narrowed his eyes. "Because they are; ask Simbar for more details if you wish to satiate your curiosity."

Simbar was more than happy to oblige. ''Over the northern mountain range lie the demon hills. They are usually kept in check there by the order of the silver flame, though one or two do slip through sometimes. We do not know where they come from, but the priests there say they are a stranded remnant of an invading army, not yet cleaned up, as their portal was apparently closed.''

He cut himself off when he saw Naram looking at him. "Don't look at me like that; I read it in a book once. Those priests there are more than happy to explain it to you."

Oh They might not know where they come from, but you knew better. Lowly, vicious little creatures, who you would gladly let serve in your armies if it weren't for the fact you needed to keep them on a short leash, and they were never particularly loyal. And you had some idea of what had been going on here. A demon got it into his head that he could invade this world and rule it, but that wouldn't do. A dark lord doesn't brook pretenders, demon, mortal or otherwise.

But Samarda had already changed the topic.

''What about the great spiders?'' she asked.

''They're a rarity these days; most can stay in hibernation for up to four decades, so whenever one emerges, the nomads hunt and kill it before it can mate. The last one was seen three years ago near Almurbah, but it was killed before it could cause any harm," he replied. Samarda nodded, her curiosity satisfied for the moment.

>>6300472
Though it was a few hours before she had another idea.

''Spider silk could help cover some of the losses. Imagine a whole outfit of spider silk. Maybe we'd even find another oasis or outlying tomb.''

For the first time since you had first seen him, and Naram seemed bemused.

''You have a mind for business, young lady. But nobody knows whether the great desert spiders make silk; nobody has tried before. Ugly beasts, nobody would touch them with a ten-foot pole. As for your other question, I would much rather have a quiet, boring trip, thank you very much.''

Naram's scepticism didn't seem to deter her. She was taught about the usage of dangerous creatures, so how could this be any different?

The great spiders, interesting creatures you found frustrating to work with, had three varieties known to you: the forest, desert, and cave versions. Unfortunately, most of them weren't usable in warfare. Trying to use their wall-climbing abilities led to the beasts being pelted with arrows and burning oil, which it really couldn't handle.

The days went by quietly on the sand dunes, as the siblings led their caravan to the next point. You had, of course, tried to make use of your newfound whisper, but the fact that you could only speak one word made actually speaking to her quite challenging.

The vast desert landscape seemed to stretch endlessly before you, making it difficult to predict when you would reach your destination. That was, of course, until in the distance, camels with black riders upon them started to appear: desert raiders!

Finally, some action and bloodshed; that is what you have been missing. The brothers, of course, drew their weapons, ordered their guards forth, and ordered civilians back. Samarda herself fetched a bow from a roll upon the camel's back.

Your power had increased, of course, and with the imminent violence, you felt it surging. You had enough of the stuff to either help, sabotage or abandon her; for the first time, you had freedom of action.

>Aid her in her archery
>Sabotage her, so you may change hands by falling into the hands of the bandits.
>Sap her at first, then pose as a friend, impose a deal, and then aid her.
>Do nothing; wait it out. You want to see the bloodsport, not participate in it.

>>6300473
>>Sap her at first, then pose as a friend, impose a deal, and then aid her.

>>6300473
>Sap her at first, then pose as a friend, impose a deal, and then aid her.
Let the weak perish and the strong survive

>>6300473
>Sap her at first, then pose as a friend, impose a deal, and then aid her

Now would be the time, the time to strike; a sudden ache in the muscle here, a little sapping of the strength there – it might be a tad dangerous, but this would be your way in, by revealing yourself in a manner where she shall believe you a friend, an ally, an aiding entity that can help her in her time of need.

The desert raiders rode on their camels, spears ready to strike. The brother and their guards rode out to meet them. Samarda remained behind, pulling back her bow.

But things wouldn't go that smoothly.

''Ah!''

With a high-pitched scream, she fell from her camel. Landing on the scorching sand, she clutched her leg in pain, thinking she had been struck by an arrow.

Naive child, you have far more to worry about than your leg.

With a second she was holding her head in pain as well; it was an intense but soporific pain, one that would allow you to re-enter her dream. While all around you the battle raged, but that was a good thing; the bravery, fear, anxiety and bloodlust would feed you while you poked around in her mind. Hopefully nobody would disturb her before you were done.

Within her mindscape, you found her half-buried in the red sand, a subliminal sign of what she thought of this battle, you guessed. You remained out of sight for now. The actor must choose his costume most carefully after all.

As what shall you pose?

>The great serpent, the god of the snake cultists.
>Mirror her own visage, but make it more perfect, more regal, more powerful.
>Pose as a friendly fire spirit of the desert, here to cut a special deal.
>An old disguise of yours, the ancient sun-god Waraw-Ra.
>Pose as a charming, handsome and foreign nobleman.
>Drop the pretences; you shall reveal yourself in full.

How shall you approach her?

>Keep the friendly appearance; insist that you're only here to help.
>Make a half-truth, vaguely telling her you have the power to save her loved ones.
>Make it very clear that she can only survive with your aid; impose it upon her.
>Beguile her; give her visions of all that she could do with your 'help'.

Rolled 69 (1d100)

>>6300571
Since you will be in there for a while, I should see what will happens in the outside world with a roll.



1-20: The caravan fights off the raiders with ease.

20-60: The caravan stays intact, but one of the brothers is injured.

60-80: While they have been fighting, one of the brothers won't survive the aftermath.

80-100: Everybody is dead, and the bandits have you captive.

>>6300571
>Mirror her own visage, but make it more perfect, more regal, more powerful.

>Beguile her; give her visions of all that she could do with your 'help'.

>>6300571
>>The great serpent, the god of the snake cultists.
Well shes got the connection even if its the wrong branch.

>>6300576
Is the battle already over? I'd have thought it would be a much more tempting deal if she thought she needed it to swing the battle lol.

>>6300585
No, it's more about what shall happen to her brothers than the actual outcome.

>>6300587
Perfect

>>6300571
>>Drop the pretences; you shall reveal yourself in full.
>Make it very clear that she can only survive with your aid; impose it upon her.

We are the dark lord who will reclaim our our glory pretending to be anything orhwrsie is a mark of shame.

>>6300571
>The great serpent, the god of the snake cultists.
>Beguile her; give her visions of all that she could do with your 'help'.

>>6300571
>The great serpent, the god of the snake cultists.

>Make it very clear that she can only survive with your aid; impose it upon her.

>>6300571
>The great serpent, the god of the snake cultists.
A convenient and familiar disguise.
>Make a half-truth, vaguely telling her you have the power to save her loved ones.

You begin to take form, from the formless dark cloud you usually are into a different creature. You feel yourself elongating as what usually forms your ghost limbs disappears; you grow longer and longer. Great fangs grow in your mouth; your eyes change from the red figments they were to the yellow of the serpent. Your scales glisten in the dim light, reflecting the sinister nature of your transformation. As you slither through the shadows, you quickly bury yourself in the sand; it is nearly time to strike, and like your wildlife counterpart, it shall be sudden.

This mindscape is an apocalyptic thing, with red sand and a sunless red sky, and in the middle lies Samarda, alone and horrified. ''Naram, Simbar, anyone, please! Where am I? What is this?'' She yelled as you snaked under the sand.

The only response she received was the eerie silence of the desolate landscape, broken only by the sound of her own frantic breathing. You had a plan ready; you would first beguile her, show her what could be hers if she would but accept your aid, and then you would move on to show her the battle was already lost (it wasn't, but she didn't know that) and that the bandits had already robbed her blind and left her behind in the desert.

You had used this guise before, to trick one of the first high priests into serving you; it had been effective then, and it shall do its trick now as well.

"The sands are red, as is the sky." Samarda asked, ''Is this the afterlife? Am I dead?''

"What you are isn't of relevance now, child of the desert." You replied with a smirk. "What matters is that you are in my domain now."

You remain hidden for now, so she asked. "Who are you?"

"Thou hast seen me before; thou hast partaken of the knowledge reserved for my initiated, for the heretic that provided you with this knowledge has escaped my wrath." You answered cryptically, rolling up your snake body to jump out of the sand.

''What, no i-'' You cut her off then and there, jumping out from the sand with a furious hiss, your yellow eyes glittering, your black scales glistening.

"But I am a just god; thou couldn't have known you were getting knowledge from a heretic. For that, I shall grant you my mercy. And mayhaps, my favour, for I am a generous lord as well." With a flick of your forked tongue, you awaited her response with an air of authority and power.

>>6300667
She seemed stunned, lying upon her side as you had emerged. So you started to circle her, drawing your coils tighter. The fear in her eyes only delighted you even further; one snap, and it would be over. You deliberately drooled some poison onto the sand for extra effect.

''Just imagine all you could do with my help; we could exterminate the raiders, bring peace to your land, and go onto even greater heights. In days past, the pharaohs long forgotten asked for my blessing, as did the sultans. Just imagine how far you could make it with my blessing, from urchin to emira to sultana to malikat almalakat, a queen of queens. You reared your head close to show her images of empire, conquest, wealth, and opulence; her eyes turned golden from it.

You then turn to directly face her. "For if thou doesn't, thou might spend thy last days among the jackals, eaten alive. The battle outside goes poorly for thy brethren; thou shalt be fed to the jackals for entertainment or sold into slavery. And I would consider a life in slavery about as much a death sentence as actual death; these deserts only reward the strong and the clever. The question to you, child, is thus: will you be strong and clever enough to take that which shall make you mistress over the sands, or shall you be craven, and wither and die, forgotten and unmourned?'' You said with mocking venom.

Roll a 1d100, the lower, the better, bo3 [DC 65]



Crit-fail = You awakened something, something you loathe.
0 success = Samarda dares to defy you, and denounces you, though she doesn't know where you come from.
1 success = A hard bargain is struck; Samarda doesn't trust you but is willing to accept some help, but is keeping a close eye on you.
2 successes = She somewhat, but not fully, trusts you and is willing to work together.
3 successes = She fully trusts you and shall strike a bargain allowing you to plunge deeper into her soul.
crit-success = Earning your first soul: Samarda almost throws her devotion at you and shall start to quietly worship you.

Rolled 38 (1d100)

>>6300670

Rolled 28 (1d100)

>>6300670

Rolled 37 (1d100)

>>6300670

3 Successes with all rolls under 65? Pretty good

We are good with the ladies

"I, I, I am not certain, my brothers…they," she stammered.

"Thy brethren might be in mortal danger; if thou dalliest as thou dost, it might be too late."

She looked down upon the blood-red sand, closed her eyes, and muttered. "Very well, oh great serpent, I will trust you on this. Now could you please help me?" The desperation was palpable.

You began to shrink; the big serpent form might be good for intimidation, but this required a more finesseful measure of size. You shrank to about the size of an adult man, big enough to look down upon her if you so wished, but small enough that you could begin the process.

You plunged the end of your tail into the sands and produced from them a simple glass. You raised it to your mouth and filled it with venom from your fangs.

''I have no need of an offer on thy part, not yet at least. I would only ask that you partake of my essence and experience the power that courses through my veins.'' you hissed, offering her the glass. She hesitated, unsure of what to do next, but the first sip was followed by a deeper gulp as she felt a surge of energy flow through her body. The taste was bitter, but the strength it provided was undeniable.

''It tastes horrible, but why can't I stop drinking it?'' She asked as she took another drink. She was beginning to tremble, a good sign for you, that is.

"Now, now, my new novice, it is important that you drink until the very. Last. Drop."

She did not respond, for she collapsed once more, and the mindscape began to dissolve around you, leaving you a formless spirit once more.

Though it was of no heed to you, for in the real world, for the first time in who knew how many aeons, you felt the sand upon which the body was lying; the first thing you did was to brush off all the sand that had gotten inside her clothes before trying to find your footing.
This was an adequate body for the time being: lithe, athletic and flexible. It lacked in natural strength, but that was something you could easily 'compensate' for.

''Wait, the girl, she started to move again.'' One of the bandits commented. You didn't know where the brothers had gone off to, or where you were, but that's Samarda's problem, not yours. You were for a very different purpose; you rose up. Looked the two closest to you in the eye, and lunged forward.

"Wha-Ugh" With supernatural speed and strength you slashed the throat of the first man with your bare nails, then plunged the other hand in the other raider's chest, clutching his heart. Finally, after you were able to take lives one more time, your mind was empty, empty but for one thing, one thing that would drive your first foray into the physical plane, that you would KILL

>>6301028
With a primal scream, you pushed her body forth and further; you would feast upon the souls and blood of these wretches. Your eyes glowed with a feral light as you revelled in the power coursing through your veins. The taste of blood on your lips only fuelled your insatiable urge for destruction.

"Desert devil! It's a genuine demon in human form!" Someone shouted, but you paid no heed. You were consumed by the thrill of the hunt, ready to unleash chaos upon the unsuspecting world.

The more of the desert raiders you killed, the more started to flee; more and more of them would take to their heels as they fled before you. Samarda's once-white scarf, veil and coat had been stained red with the blood, as you indulged your own savagery.

Though you had no mirror, you most certainly had blood all over your face as well, for it dripped richly from your hands as well.

It took you a few hours, but the enemy was driven before you, and with it, you began to tire as well; you couldn't claim permanent control of her body as of yet. But that would come, or perhaps you would find a more worthy candidate to act as a vessel for your greatness.

Still, as you retired and Samarda began to regain control, her lucidity returned as well. Though she had not been witness to what you had done, she most certainly would put two and two together.

In parts of the battle that had preceded your awakening, one of the brothers of Samarda had at one point been struck down most severely and would most certainly die this eve.

Which of the brothers was fatally wounded?

>Simbar
>Naram

It would be a futile effort; there was not a single capable healer about here. If Samarda wished to save her brother, which she most certainly would, she would need to turn to you.

>Help her unconditionally, to further her trust.
>Help her, but make the process painful to drive a wedge between the siblings.
>What do you care for this? Let the peon die; they serve no purpose to you.
>I shall not give her the solace of healing her brother, but the prospect of revenge against their killer.

>>6301029
>Naram

>Help her unconditionally, to further her trust.

>>6301029
>Naram
>I shall not give her the solace of healing her brother, but the prospect of revenge against their killer.

>>6301029
>Naram
>Help her unconditionally, to further her trust.

This way we could get all three of them under our control

>>6301049
+1

>>6301029
Ah that must be where the poison drinking custom started, cause he does this theatrical poison drinking to give her power lol

>Help her unconditionally, to further her trust.

Deepening her trust. Naram will be grateful to her for saving his life so we have more influence on where the caravan goes. Eventually we could show him that 'we' saved his life. Saved Simbar's brother too, and it seems like Simbar is the one who got them to deviate a bit to check out the ruins we were in so he might blame himself a bit.

Alas, while Samarda was regaining consciousness, the rest of the remaining caravaneers weren't scurrying to her side but to the aid of her elfer brother Naram, who had been mortally wounded; he was the bravest one and had led them in the countercharge against the raiders. And how the fool paid the price for not sacrificing his minions.

By the time that the Samarda had rejoined the rest of the group, you decided to remain on the backseat for now, until she asked you to intervene, which she most certainly would.

''Samarda, what happened to you? You're stained with blood.'' Simbar, the other brother, had lost his usual nonchalance.

''Never mind that; I'll explain it later. Where's… 'Oh no, please no, no, no, not Naram.'' The woman immediately fell to her knees, bowing over her brother. Crying ever so softly, she whispered, "Please no." She then closed her eyes, for she would come, come seeking your aid.

Great snake spirit, I beseech thee, save my brother, please. You saved us before, haven't you?

The puppets are beginning to stitch on their own strings.

I shall help thee, for I have told thee I am a generous god, and thou shalt bear witness to my charity. You duly spoke, taking on an air of feigned concern.

Hold your hand over his wound; I shall do the rest. You instructed her.

Thank you, oh thank you, oh great spirit. I shall grant you my eternal gratitude and include you in my nightly prayers. '' So you have gained a spot in her personal pantheon; now you just need to kick out the others.

She held out her hand over Naram's wound, and you held out your dark appendage and healed his wounds. The mortal would likewise be infected with a small trace of your venom, not enough to immediately ensnare him, but enough that you might 'persuade' him when it comes to giving Samarda leeway in matters.

Before the night was over, Naram reawoke, unaware of what happened, while you had partially hoped Samarda might start to preach about your miracles here and there; she wasn't the type for it. One of the other two might make for a better mouthpiece; it remains to be seen.

With the caravan on the move once more, you came out of the heart of the desert, with its dune seas, onto more flat, arid land. The sun beat down mercilessly, casting long shadows across the barren landscape as the caravan continued its journey towards its next stop.

It was still a rather boring experience; no tombs to raid as of yet, but that would come. It wasn't like every grain of sand was hiding one. And unlike the mortal adventurers, you could peer beyond the sight of the eye and see what could not be seen. They would pass by a ruin soon enough, and Simbar would pester Namar, and with your influence and that of Samarda, he would allow an expedition.

>>6301189
This caravan was the reason you were free once more, but unless you gained control over it, they would repeat the same cross-desert pattern over and over. That is, of course, if you want to stay with the caravan or in the desert in general; at any rate, you should keep your options open.

>One by one, I shall enthral them; that shall give me proper freedom of action.
>I should wait until we're at Almurbah and see if there are any cult hideouts.
>I couldn't care less about this caravan; if it falls apart, so be it, but I need a ticket out of here.

>>6301175
The snake cult was originally a relatively 'normal' mystery cult, until you came along and put some funny ideas in the heads of the leadership.

>>6301190
>>One by one, I shall enthral them; that shall give me proper freedom of action.

>>6301190
>One by one, I shall enthral them; that shall give me proper freedom of action.
Seems fine to me. A caravan can move around looking for prospects, spread the word, start a small sect where we stop and move on. Maybe come back to it later and see how its doing. Tombs might have goodies.

>>6301192
True whats the point if you cant roll with some funny ideas.

>>6301190
>I couldn't care less about this caravan; if it falls apart, so be it, but I need a ticket out of here.
I ain't looking to 'first girl" these jabronis.

>>6301190
>One by one, I shall enthral them; that shall give me proper freedom of action.

We need latitude

>>6301190
>I couldn't care less about this caravan; if it falls apart, so be it, but I need a ticket out of here.

These three siblings, who form the leadership of this caravan, shall form the basis of your new power base, for the time being, that is. They shall travel about over dune and through oasis, spreading your influence and securing alliances with other nomadic tribes in the desert.

But first you must bring them under your sway; the girl is already susceptible. Namar, the leader, can be made to agree to Samarda's ideas via your feeling of him, which has given you a slip of influence over his judgement.

That only leaves Simbar, the middle sibling, truly pure, but you have your methods. His curiosity will come in handy for what's to come.

Having left the dune sea behind but not yet properly out of the desert, you were currently entering a small hamada, which you would be out of by the end of the next day.

Still, you kept up the evening communion with the one you would consider your closest servant for the time being.

"As thou knowest, I shift and burrow through the sands and the dunes, for that is within my nature, but I have seen thy brethren and thee do much the same, though not with the sand, but in the ruins long swallowed by time." You spoke to Samarda thus, a casual conversation, but it was what you had to do; you needed them to trust you, so you would heap them with opportunities, which would enrich them and let them drown in their own success, for you shall draw them in, closer and closer.

Great serpent, we merely look through that which has long been abandoned. The ones who built such places are long gone, and the animals who live here have no need for gold or treasure. When we take things from there, we merely do as such to make a small profit or to preserve that which was lost.'' Samarda explained in her thoughts, for you had not yet gained the ability to speak normally.

''Enough, I ask naught about the ethics of it all, for I have already told thee that only the strong and cunning shall master the desert. I would merely tell thee that I can see what thou can't, and, as part of my favour, I bestow upon thee the knowledge that another ruin shall be close by, ripe for the plundering.'' You informed her in the tone of a teacher praising a favoured student.

>>6301469
''Thank you, but how shall I recognise it? From what shall I be able to discern from the rest of the desert?'' Samarda asked.

''Come the morning sun, the rays shall reveal that which shall normally be hidden, and the shadows shall guide thee to the hidden ruin. Trust in my words, for I have never led thee astray before, my dear Samarda.'' You so telepathically spoke.

''Inform thy brothers of it as well; they shall find it contains treasures beyond measure.''

The young nomad did just that and, with little effort, convinced Simbar, and with a two-thirds majority, Naram agreed to it as well. It was but a small deviation from the main road, so there wouldn't be any grave dangers. This was near a rocky breakup in the desert. As you had promised, an opening had been formed, revealing a cave, which led to a tunnel, which revealed the true ruin.

>The pale plaster long since decayed, an island outpost of a maritime union, its symbol a young maiden holding a crescent moon.
>Traces of blue paint here and there, mosaics of varying quality, and a duo of man-headed winged lions stand guard.
>A silver star over two crossed rivers, the sandstone long since decayed, etched over with cuneiform.
>The marble obelisk, carved with old hieroglyphs, the falcon and the eye, welcomed them.

>>6301471
>A silver star over two crossed rivers, the sandstone long since decayed, etched over with cuneiform.

>>6301190
>I should wait until we're at Almurbah and see if there are any cult hideouts.

Why the fuck are we investing so much time and effort in the first three schmucks we came across? The bandits, honestly, would have been a much better choice of host.

And why the fuck did we pick the acrobat?

>>6301471
>>The pale plaster long since decayed, an island outpost of a maritime union, its symbol a young maiden holding a crescent moon.

>>6301496
They're traders, if we can control them we can get them to take us to a king or warlord faster

So, any lurkers who want to tie-break?

>>6301471
>The pale plaster long since decayed, an island outpost of a maritime union, its symbol a young maiden holding a crescent moon.

>>6301496
Cute girl, presumably

Ahhh, that brings you back; A memory long forgotten is restored: the visage of Narit-Nino, the Moonmaiden, the patron goddess of the sea league of Kimah, as she gracefully danced across the waves under the silver light of the full moon. Her presence brought calm to the stormy seas and prosperity to those who honoured her with offerings of seashells and pearls. With her dress of stars and carrying the moon around with her two hands.

Though the sea league had long since been defunct by the time of your coming, the religion of the lunar sea goddess lingered along the coastlines of the world like a gentle breeze, reminding sailors of the ancient power that once guided their ships safely through treacherous waters. The legend of Narit-Nino continued to inspire, and you couldn't tolerate the snake cult you had once invented as a counter to her influence, and it would seem you had won out, for her temple in this hidden place was now an abandoned ruin.

''This place, I am not certain what to make of it; it is remarkably intact, coastal in its designs, but we're not anywhere near the coast.'' Simbar's uneducated commentary made you purse nonexistent lips.

''Indeed so, indeed so, the freshwater spring over there is good enough for me; have the men and camels fill up.'' Naram ordered, pulling out a map to denote the hidden spring for future use.

That left you with Samarda, who was curiously eyeing the entrance to the ruin, her hand absentmindedly tracing the intricate carvings on the stone walls. "I wonder what secrets this place holds," she mused, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

They reminded you it was time for some 'suggestions'. "There it is, my good Samarda, the entrance to the place I had promised thee; within might be riches, though in the desert, the water spring is the greatest treasure of all, though you can't take it with you, now can you? Why don't you go inside?' You temptingly said in your snake voice.

Samarda hesitated; perhaps she should be allowed to fetch her brothers, perhaps not. Perhaps you want her to be alone for now, perhaps not; those two will probably go in eventually, so if you get her to snatch the things of actual importance, or on the other hand, perhaps you should let the muscle of the brothers do the heavy lifting if there's anything dangerous.

>Make her go in alone.
>Make her go in with Naram.
>Make her go in with Simbar.
>Let all three of them go in.

>>6301615
>Make her go in alone.

>>6301613
This, I fear, is the answer. Still, she seems aight. Her being a secret serpent cultist is handy.

>>6301615
>Make her go in with Simbar.
He's the more adventurous and one who, if he becomes injured, we can envenom and enthrall.

>>6301615
>Make her go in with Simbar.
I mean Naram just got injured even if we did heal him lol. Its only fair that we can push for something very pretty and fetching we find.

>>6301615
>Make her go in with Simbar.

>>6301615
>Make her go in with Simbar.

>>6301615
>Make her go in with Simbar.

>>6301615
>Make her go in with Simbar.

>>6301706
>secret serpent cultist
Technically, she was never fully initiated or inducted into the serpent cult. She lacks the usual markings that signify full membership. She only really got the knowledge of poison and the traditional martial practices of the cult.
Though with you being where you are, coiled around her neck, you easily could sponsor a theoretical ascent into the high priesthood.

''Take your brother with you, not Naram; the poor fellow's still recovering, Simbar. He is a curious explorer, isn't he? He will aid you in your search for treasures and other riches.'' You so whispered into Samarda's ear, already planning to make your next step.

The interior of the old temple had been better preserved than its outside shell; inside, the dark blue paint still depicted the moonmaiden dancing around, holding the moon in its various stages as she gracefully moved across the walls.

In the middle lay a small shallow pool of water, around which stood the moon in various phases. A special hole had been cut into the roof to allow for light to shine upon the pool, creating a mesmerising reflection of the moonmaiden's image. Which was laid in mosaics upon the floor of the pool.

Yes, quite so, you pathetic wench. I won, you lost, I am still around, and you are dead, deader than dead, for your worship has been long. Now, you're nothing but a mosaic on the pool floor, forgotten by all.

You stopped your gloating for the time being. You had bigger fish to fry. The siblings seemed very interested in the frescoes of the dancing maiden, which was whatever; you didn't bring them here to act as a museum guide, but they should be allowed to take their time to lull them into a false sense of security.

Samarda's new devotion towards you had given you an ever-so-small increase in your powers; the healing of Namar had been the limit of your power at one point, but with her devotion and the consumption of the bandits' souls you had killed, you could begin to more subtly influence events. You were still a long way off from returning in full, if you actually could rebuild a body, or if you had to take over the body of somebody else, but for now, you had to content yourself with subjugating this caravan.

Unbeknownst to them, an animal of grave danger was sleeping nearby; the desert wolf wouldn't attack them without them coming close, but your dark powers can obviously give the animal a rabid bloodlust, should you so desire.

On the other hand, some of the parts that kept the temple together were beginning to sit rather loose; having a part of the roof fall onto Simbar would endanger him, which would allow you an opening into his mind as well.

But first, you should keep true to your obligations and make them victims of their own curiosity and greed. Samarda was overlooking the empty fire altar. Playfully posing as a priest of the moon goddess, though she obviously didn't know who that was.

>>6301877
No, no, the actual place where the temple would keep its relics, artefacts and other treasures would be in the undercroft, where the donations would be kept. You told her as much, and as you told her, she told Simbar, and they quickly descended down the stairs.

Yes, yes, indulge your avarice; it shall make you rich, young man, with wealth beyond your wildest dreams. But do be careful; greed has a way of paying itself. You had seen Simbar's type before, and while he might be loyal to his brother, he would still feel the need to escape his shadow every now and then.

As they reached the undercroft, they relit the torches that stood against the walls, and upon the floors and chests were filled with silver coins and glittering jewels. Simbar's eyes widened in amazement at the sight of such riches; a sense of glee crept over you as you watched him greedily reach out to touch them.

So that is your sin, isn't it? Your greed and desire for wealth. Let us see how far that can be pushed.

While you have been focusing on Simbar for the time being, you should also instruct Samarda.

"Let him take the silver and jewels; you and I have no need of it; you cannot purchase your way out in the desert. No, there is an artefact, something I wish for you to retrieve. Look over yonder, beyond the silver and gems.'' You told her.

In a display piece, there it lies, an artefact of old. It wasn't of Narit-Nino herself per se, perhaps of one of her priests, or brought in as an offering.

Select an artefact.

>The moon-diadem is of a dark blue metal with white pearls embedded in it.
>A silken silvery veil, with intricate flower motifs.
>Silver earrings, in the form of stars, the moonmaid's secondary motif.
>A delicate wooden flute, old and carved with intricate patterns.
>A small dagger, unremarkable, save for some small decorations.

How shall you be dealing with Simbar?

>Time to give that wolf the kick on the tail, let him squirm for a while.
>Let's see how well he deals with a piece of wall on him
>Oh my, he's standing particularly close to that torch.

>>6301878
>The moon-diadem is of a dark blue metal with white pearls embedded in it.
>Oh my, he's standing particularly close to that torch.

>>6301878
>A small dagger, unremarkable, save for some small decorations.
>Oh my, he's standing particularly close to that torch.

>>6301878
>The moon-diadem is of a dark blue metal with white pearls embedded in it.

>Let's see how well he deals with a piece of wall on him

>>6301878
>The moon-diadem is of a dark blue metal with white pearls embedded in it.
>Oh my, he's standing particularly close to that torch

The lunar diadem shimmers even in the dark; a faint magical energy shimmers off it, though it has clearly seen better days.

It is a relatively old-fashioned design. Only the front forms a united band of metal, and you're supposed to connect with some beads on the back. The delicate filigree work on the front is intricate, with small gemstones missing from their settings. Despite its worn appearance, the lunar diadem still holds a mysterious allure; it probably belonged to the highest-ranking priestess back when this temple was still inhabited.

''There it is; take it. It's yours now, my favoured devotee. The priests of this place are long gone, and it shall either fetch you a pretty penny on the market, or it shall look beautiful perched upon your head; you decide.'' You told her as she picked up the diadem, quietly hiding it away in her nomadic robes, while her brother raked his hand through the silver.

If I could, I would have corrupted or broken the diadem myself, but it would appear I need you for that. You grumbily noted.

Your formlessness shifted its focus to Simbar, her brother, who was beginning to lose track of things, the silver gleam in his dark eyes illuminated by the torchlight.

"Hahaha, come and look, Samarda, heaps! Heaps! Of the stuff! Once we're in Almurbah, I will treat you and Naram to the finest dadels and dates in the land!'' he exclaimed, his voice echoing off the stone walls of the undercroft.

''You fool, you can't carry all of that stuff with you; Naram would lose his mind if you packed up the camels with that much silver.'' Samarda playfully warned.

''I know, I know, which is why I will only take a few pouches or so, enough so we might live comfortably while in the city, and some for the Simbar retirement fund.'' He said, head close to a torch.

"You mean that embezzlement scheme of yours where you keep from giving the majority of the shares to the caravan treasury?" Samarda teased, raising an eyebrow.

"It's not an embezzlement; it's strategic planning. Besides, there's enough for everyone here, but more for me." he replied with a mischievous grin.

With that beard and that greed of yours, you would have made for a good Dwarfking; now let's see how well you hold up to the poor man's dragonfire.

>>6302055
While both of them were distracted, you summoned the air currents in the undercroft and blew the fires of the torches into Simbar's turban. The flames quickly spread, engulfing his head in a fiery inferno. As he frantically tried to put out the flames, you heard Samarda call upon you for aid once more.

If you must, after all, what's healing a few sand-mulchers when they are but your first stepping stone?

Roll a 1d100, bo3, [DC65]; the lower, the better.


Critical fail: he burns to death before you can reach him, and you can't repeat the healing trick.
0 Success: You can heal him, but his suspicions about his sister's new powers grow.
1 Success: You can heal him, but he will be partially disfigured from the flames.
2 Success: You heal him, but Samarda isn't willing to ask you to heal his scars as well.
3 Success: You heal him, and Samarda wishes to bargain about his burn scars as well.
Critical success: Newfound worship from two of the three.

Rolled 16 (1d100)

>>6302056
Woosh!

Rolled 52 (1d100)

>>6302056
If they live long enough and one day they are strong and faithful enough to have powers, give him fire powers lol

Rolled 85 (1d100)

>>6302056


On a side note, is there any chance the moon diadem thingy could serve as a conduit for the moon maidens power sort of like our item did for us? If so, that could be a very messy misstep.

>>6302077
Not quite, as this was a more or less a very isolated temple, her actual essence would, theoretically of course, be kept somewhere close to the sea, where her worship was the strongest.

Ah! Ah! Help me then! HELP! At this point the fire had spread from Simbar's turban to his beard.

Samarda was stunned by the sudden lightening of her brother, though she quickly scrambled to find a blanket or water to extinguish her brother, who was screaming and flailing about, completely panicked at his current predicament.

It did take Samarda a while, and when she had finally extinguished her brother's fire, the fire had already mutilated his hair, face and part of his beard. He had also collapsed onto the floor; if you didn't act quickly, he would die, and Samarda knew that, so she beseeched you for aid.

''Not again! Why do you brothers keep injuring yourselves like this!''

Serpent spirit, oh serpent spirit, art thou there? I need your help; one of my brothers has burnt himself most severely. She had once more tapped into the telepathic connection formed between you, which, you noted, you should put to the test: is the necklace your connection to her, or does she have enough of a bond for you to maintain it independently? Something to research.

Thou art lucky thy brother hasn't signed ear nor eye, for that would have been much, much more severe. I shall help thee as I have helped thee before, but be warned, the law of the desert is that the strong shall survive and the weak perish, and I may need to extract a prize if I am so inclined.

Nevertheless, you did your job without complaint, closing up bleedings, removing ash and charred parts, and easing the pain. Hell, you even restored the burnt skin's ability to feel. Though unfortunately, you didn't get the chance to fully remove his scars, as that would have given you the opportunity to extract further concessions from Samarda.

Still, you were pleased, for your hands had lain upon his soul as well, and it was your essence that would keep him going, even if he didn't realise it.

''Oh, Samarda, I thought I had been done for! For real this time around, where did you learn to heal so well?'' Simbar asked, full of gratitude.

''Well, the old lady I stayed with h-had a lot of tomes on medicine.'' She offhandedly informed her brother, neglecting to mention your name.

>>6302100

A poor missionary, but you wouldn't need one right now.

One interesting thing to note, as you gained some insight into his mind, was that he was shaken; the burn scars seemed to have damaged his self-image.

When he exited the temple, he was usually quiet and shy. He sombrely explained to his brother what had happened and what had been found, and excused himself to his tent.

The following morning, he had revealed his new clean-shaven chin to the rest of the camp.

''A radical change, brother, but you could have just shaved the sides off.'' Naram noted with brotherly affection.

''No, I shall keep with a tradition of our clan, Naram; I have shamed myself; it shall grow anew. Besides, the hairs itch on the burn spots." Simbar ruefully noted, and he sat by himself during breakfast.

The caravan left the old sanctuary for new prospects. Almurbah was two weeks away, and the caravan would begin to move out of the desert proper and into the drylands.

This meant being closer to the civilised world, and as the caravan progressed, you began seeing the first signs: goat herders, sheep herders, and various donkey herds, then came the norias and the first small villages. The air was filled with the sounds of bustling activity and the smell of cooking fires, signalling the end of your time in the deep desert for the time being.

With the caravan underway to Almurbah, you decided to focus your attention upon:

>Naram, he hasn't been as shaken by his injuries, so you should do it the old-fashioned way.
>Simbar, he has been severely traumatised by the fire, so he needs to talk to someone he can trust.
>Samarda, via her, you can get in contact with the snake cult in Almurbah, but you need to make certain they will listen to her.
>Nobody, you're here for the ride, not conversation.

>>6302103
>Simbar, he has been severely traumatised by the fire, so he needs to talk to someone he can trust.

A proper Dark Lord surely knows when to exploit moments of weakness no?

>>6301859
Eh, close enough.

>>6302103
>Simbar, he has been severely traumatised by the fire, so he needs to talk to someone he can trust.

>>6302103
>Nobody, you're here for the ride, not conversation.
Remain mysterious and aloof.

>>6302103
>Simbar, he has been severely traumatised by the fire, so he needs to talk to someone he can trust.

Poor, poor Simbar, his face singed by the fire, his usual insolence gone, the lad is obviously in need of some attention from someone he can trust.

You weren't certain if you should take the form of a snake; you have many faces, after all, and to practise your acting, you should vary your roles. The boy has potential; it just needs to be… reforged.

His mind is open, shaken and damaged, for the fire has completely broken what natural mental defences he might have had. And in cruel irony, you decided to visit him in a form that would frighten him the most.

Thus you took form once more, but not as a great snake, nor as a formless cloud, but as a fiery spirit. You forsook the darkness for now, but fire was another favourite element of yours; it forged your arms and armour, it scorched the lands of your foes, and it symbolised power and wrath.

"I have been a fool, too much of a fool. I suppose my treasure-hunting would indeed come back to haunt me. Have I incurred the curse of the pharaohs or something?" So thought Simbar, who had lost not only his beard but his easy-going smile as well.

''Curse? Nay, blessing? Yea, thou should be grateful, yet thou slinkest from thy destiny.'' You said in a voice that seemed to crackle like flames, your eyes glowing with an intensity that made Simbar shiver in fear and awe.

''No, no, no! Stay back! Naram! Samarda! Somebody! Get back! Get back!'' He screamed so. You remained calm and continued.

''Thou dost not understand, dost thou? Thy scorch markings are a blessing, not a curse; they mark thee, for thou might scorn the fire for the pain it has wrought thee, but fire is the lifebringer. It is time for thee to embrace thy destiny and fulfil the purpose for which thou wert marked.'' Your words echoed through his head, leaving Simbar trembling with uncertainty.

"A-a-and what shall be my destiny?" Simbar's voice quivered as he awaited your response, unsure of what awaited him.

"That shall be revealed to thee in due time, flamebearer, but know that it is a great one. Embrace the fire within and let it guide you towards greatness. Know that fire suffers no weaklings, and that through thy suffering thou hast partially cleansed thyself of thy inherent weakness.'' You then puffed up in the smoke, leaving him coughing and puffing.

He then woke up in his bed, unaware you were nearby as the shade you really were.

''Suffering is good for me? Should I put my hands into braziers? No, that's not what he said. Fire cleanses the weak, and I purged myself of weakness, so perhaps that is what I must do: purge myself further through suffering and challenges. And when I have done that, I shall purge weakness throughout the land.''

>>6302377
Simbar has been deluded into believing he can cleanse himself and others of weakness, though much of that is true depending on your goodwill. What is true is that you have sown the seeds of contempt for the poor and weak in his heart.

Another week of travelling came and went before you reached the city of Almurbah, but when it came in sight, it brought the sounds of relief to the caravan you had inadvertently become a passenger with.

The city of Almurbah was a shining pearl in the desert, with its towering minarets and bustling bazaars. A wall of sandstone protected it from the outside world, and onion-shaped domes crowned the towers; it was the capital of the Azamoranid Sultanate, from where the Sultan reigned over his great realm, in accord with his vizier and court of advisors. The air was filled with the scents of spices and the calls of merchants, even from outside the walls.

Even outside there was the evidence of hard work; norias and qanats brought life to the land surrounding it, and the fig trees and date palms provided shade and sustenance to the people.

Though the trio wouldn't go in just yet, no, Naram first had his followers set up camp outside the walls, as was customary.

''You know how it goes, Simbar. I will be out in the city. I will contact the members of our clan first, deliver the letters we have been paid to deliver, and make the necessary arrangements for tomorrow. You stay and guard the caravan with the guards; they'll be paid the day before we leave. Tomorrow the city merchants will come for our goods; you're our best haggler, so try to keep in shape. As for you.'' He turned to Samarda.

"You will stay here as well, at least for today; when one of us is available, we will escort you around. This place is no place for a woman to be alone.'' [/b]

''I can fend for myself, you know. I spent several months on the street and with you in the desert.'' Samarda protested against her brother's decision.

''That may be so, but San'na is no Almurbah; this is the capital of a Sultanate, and I would feel much better knowing you are safe with one of us nearby,'' he replied firmly.

The squabbling of these mortals was of little concern to you; the sense of the sheer amount of thoughts, hopes, fears, loves, and hates within this city beckoned you forth like a fat man to the buffet.

>>6302379
Still, the news that Naram would not allow Samarda into the city without access was unwelcome; it would mean you would need to spend your time outside for the time being, unless you used your influence over him to overrule his previous decision, which you would certainly do.

The only question is, of course, what you should do with, or rather, what your wearer, Samarda, should do.
>Have her shadow Naram around; you do not trust where he is going.
>Tell her to go to the bazaar so you may have a look around for both goods and other candidates.
>Have her sniff it out and contact the snake cult if it exits out here, you are in due need of proper worship.
>Just tell her to stay put, it the time for her to enter the city will come.

>>6302380
>Just tell her to stay put, it the time for her to enter the city will come.
Haste makes waste, and we can learn more and insinuate ourselves further while we wait.

>>6302380
>Just tell her to stay put, it the time for her to enter the city will come.

>>6302380
>Tell her to go to the bazaar so you may have a look around for both goods and other candidates.

It was fun but...

>>6302380
>Have her sniff it out and contact the snake cult if it exits out here, you are in due need of proper worship.

>>6302380
>>Have her sniff it out and contact the snake cult if it exits out here, you are in due need of proper worship

>>6302380
>Tell her to go to the bazaar so you may have a look around for both goods and other candidates.

Rolled 2 (1d3)

A three-way split, oh my.

1: Stay put
2: Try to contact the cult
3: Go to the bazaar

Enough of this; you are, or rather were, the dark lord, and you are not to be kept waiting outside the city walls. While you couldn't travel more than five metres from the necklace that contained you, you could tell Samarda to go inside.

It would mean disobeying Naram's instructions, but you could override his judgements if you so pleased. And it would be a lot smoother than sneaking in and out without telling him, but first, you would need to tell Samarda to bring you inside.

So you decided to give her a 'mission from God' to give her a pretext to protest against her brother.

"Child, though I have been with you for a while now and have demanded no tribute sssave for your devotion, there is a request I have of you." You softly hissed in your snake god voice.

"I yearn to see my faithful once more, so I would ask of thee that thou wouldst bring me to my devotees, if they do exist here." You put on a humble, begging tone; it went against all you stood for, but you were a fine mummer.

The young girl listened intently before saying, "But of course, O great serpent, I shall do as you ask, but my bro- She tried to object, but you cut her off.

"Thou brother shalt understand; you should but ask. Trust me, he shall concede if you ask."

''Naram, no, I wish to go into the city alone; I can myself, and if you don't want me to go, I'll go myself!'' She said the last part with a hint of defiance in her voice.

Naram opened his mouth to speak, to overrule, but you plucked the heartstring. He suddenly closed his mouth, then spoke. ''You know what, fine, you may go, just make certain to be careful, and – uhh, oh yes, I wanted to do this later, but I suppose it can be done now.'' He retrieved a small pouch from his Bedouin robes. ''Your allowance, Samarda, Simbar has put in extra from that silver you found, as a thank you for putting out the fire and saving him.''

Her eyes went wide from the sheer amount of money. Which she immediately put somewhere safe. Naram did speak with her one last time before she went back to her tent. "Just don't go around buying any slaves or horses; they cost too much to feed. And keep safe.''

Samarda went back to her tent, where she got rid of the usual nomadic travelling robes and got into something more suited to the city. Despite all of this, you could sense she was still heavily armed, with throwing daggers on a belt hidden under her robes, a vial of poison on the same belt, and a longer dagger strapped to her thigh. as befits a would-be assassin of the snake cult, though perhaps it is time for her to be properly inducted, but for that you would need an altar.

That crone who raised you might have strayed from my teachings, but it is not too late for you to return to the fold, my dear Samarda.

>>6302944
As she passed through the city gates, both you, and she were at first overwhelmed, for spending so much time alone in the desert and the dryland, you had been used to being alone with at most a handful of people. Narams' caravan counted about two dozen men and slightly more camels; you had counted them to pass the time. Here, there were hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands of people of all kinds of nations. Men, dwarves, elves – you even smelt the stench of the orcs, these with sandlike skin, who were pushing around a noria, while their master stood by with a whip.
Good soldiers, but worthless at nearly anything else, save manual labour. Orcs, or goblins as they were sometimes called, were known for their brute strength and lack of intelligence, making them perfect for tasks that required little skill. You had favoured them in the beginning, though you phased them out for men, dwarves and the elves who joined you.

''Go to the temple district; I wish to start our search there.'' You directed Samarda.

The temple district was in the north of the city past the bazaar, which stood in the middle, and east of the palace, where the sultan and his court resided. Samarda nodded and quickly made her way towards the temple district, weaving through the bustling crowds of the bazaar. As she approached the temples, she passed by vendors selling colourful fabrics and spices, the air filled with the scent of incense and the sound of prayers.

Were you capable of breathing, you would have caught it. The central plaza of the temple boasted a central mosque with intricate domes and minarets reaching towards the sky, surrounded by smaller shrines dedicated to various deities. You peered around; symbols of all kinds of gods were around and about in the flags flying, and the mosaics laid into the ground. There were plenty of symbols, vultures, moons, stars, and the visages of various deities, but your snake cult was not among them.

That was perhaps not unexpected; they would obviously be proscribed from way back in the day if the sultans were the descendants of your foes in the region. But that doesn't mean they aren't here; behind the shadowed nooks and hidden alcoves of a city, there were always dark places, hidden from plain sight; in the houses and underground, you would need to look.

Evil has a way of sensing evil, and you could smell like a scent hound when it came to finding your devotees. There were black spots all around this city, from corrupt officials and priests to the swindling merchant, the pickpocket and the thief. In the distance, you sensed it likewise from the palace, though you knew you couldn't have Samarda stroll in there.

>>6302946
You lingered for half an hour, while Saramda walked around, admiring the mosaics and marble statues that adorned the streets. While you sifted through the thoughts of those who had soiled their souls with their evil practices. Most of the light stuff – thievery, swindle and deceit – you brushed aside. But occasionally you caught a glimpse of something darker, something that made you quiver with delight. They were here, and you would but need to direct Samarda to them.

To begin with, you should direct her away from the central plaza and into the dark alleyways. Then into the backstreets away from the eyes of the priests, further still, into an unremarkable side street where ordinary labourers lived. Enter the apartment on the right, take the stairs down, brush past the fake carpet hiding a hole in the basement hall, and descend even further underground. There, hidden from prying eyes, you would find the entrance to the secret underground chamber where they conducted their rituals.

She followed on down and crept through the darkness as though it was second nature to her. She was away from the open desert, and Samarda reverted to the mannerisms she had learnt on the streets.

The only real thing between her and the cult was the brass coiled-up snake that kept the doors closed. Though you told her how to open it, she pulled the tail, petted the body and jammed her finger in the opened mouth. The doors creaked open, revealing a dimly lit chamber filled with flickering candles and eerie symbols painted on the walls.

She stepped inside and continued on, past symmetrical depictions of snakes, their scales shimmering in the candlelight. As she walked further into the chamber, a sense of unease crept over her, but she pushed it aside, for you continued to assure her that all would be well.

Though her training began to kick in as four masked figures emerged from the shadows, their eyes glinting with malice. This was a dark place, so your powers were strong enough to keep them from killing on the spot.

"How in the name of the great coiling one did you get here? These meetings are for the initiated only.'' One of them hissed.

''I-I-I am here, because…. Because I have something of interest to your masters. Her stammering was unfortunate and would jeopardise the plan, so you had to take a more direct form of control.

They now seemed unsure of what to do; your voice had partially pacified them, it would seem.

''What is going on here? Who's that? Why haven't you killed her?'' An older male voice demanded. Belong to a long-nosed, pale, frail old man.

Roll a 1d100, bo3, [DC75]; the lower, the better (medium difficulty of 60, +15 for being their rightful lord).

>>6302947


Critfail = HERESY, heresy everywhere.

0 success = They reject you, and the old man orders your death.
1 success = They are accepting of you but remain sceptical of both Samarda and you.
2 success = Samarda is welcomed into their midst, but they think you are but a piece of the snake god and won't cede leadership to you.
3 success = You make them kneel, pledge allegiance, and reassert your mastery of the cult.
Critsucces = The return of the king

Rolled 56 (1d100)

>>6302947
Got to love snake cults

Rolled 63 (1d100)

>>6302947

Rolled 26 (1d100)

>>6302948
snakes everywhere

It's funny, the guy was meant obviously as a Sauron rip-off, but he is veering hard into becoming Thulsa Doom

>>6302954
how big of a snake can we turn into?

>>6302957
As big as in the dream sequence, but unfortunately, you need a physical body.

>>6302958
Cool. I'm going to guess that the old body was properly disposed by the heroes. Was there any other big snakes or did we just pop out of vapors?

>>6302963
It's supposed to be a bit vague, as the time stuck in the sand has eroded much about your earliest memories, so you aren't really aware whether you were born a snake, a humanoid, or something else.

The old man was frail indeed, with pale skin rare in these lands, so he never leaves this underground hideout. His dark grey beard was long, his turban and robes black, and his fingernails, with which he stroked his beard, were long and dirty.

You sensed the evil that ran through him; either he was their leader, or someone with a similar appearance was. But he wasn't the master of this cult; that would be you, and you have come again to claim the leadership of the cult.

''Who are you? What are you doing here? I demand answers of you, female, or I shall feed you to the snake pit.'' The dark-robed man demanded.

Samarda was too stunned to say anything to him, not that you wanted her to; this was your cult, and you would do the talking through her mouth. And so you pushed, keeping her conscience in a trance, while you, empowered by the dark rituals here, took over her body.

"I shan't brook your questioning, fool, for I am not your inferior; I am your master come again." The voice that came out of Samarda's mouth was cold and commanding, sending shivers down the man's spine.

The mood immediately changed; the four assassins immediately knelt in compulsion. The old man did likewise, bowing his head in submission to the powerful presence that now inhabited Samarda's body.

''Master, you have come to us once more, after all the years that have passed. The scripture foretold you would return.'' The old man's voice quivered with reverence as he spoke, his eyes filled with awe and fear at the same time.

You, of course, never bothered actually laying down any scripture; that would've been a waste of time you could spend empire-building. You were always tolerant of other religions, but only when they worshipped or invested all power in you.

''Indeed so. Pray tell, what is thy name?'' You asked.

''I am Yudrim ibn Yurdu, the vizier of the cult. I oversee the day-to-day operations and coordinate the laypeople while the priests and priestesses are engaged in prayers, rituals, and sacrifices,'' he replied with a hint of pride in his voice.

''Our devotion to you, O great god, knows no bounds.''

"That shall remain to be seen; my absence has been long, and deviation has inevitably crept into the minds of man. But bring me forth; I wish to see thy inner sanctum.''

''As you wish, great god. Follow me," Yudrim said, leading the way towards the inner sanctum with reverence and anticipation in his eyes. The cult members followed closely behind, eager to witness the long-awaited return of their deity.
These rooms were low and shadowy, the walls lit by a few torches and oil lamps, but they were dark places nonetheless. As you marched, you saw the others fall into line one by one, the priests and their dark green robes, snake belts and bronze skullcaps. The priestesses, in their flowing white gowns, adorned with symbols of the serpent god.

>>6302998
The air was thick with the scent of incense and anticipation as you finally reached the inner sanctum, where the stronger priest carried in an improvised throne for you to sit on. You ascended with your legs crossed, as befits the oriental style of thrones.
The murmurs of prayers and chants filled the chamber, creating an air of reverence and solemnity. The snakes began to slowly surround the throne, the golden black-scale cobra, a beast you had bred out of the ordinary desert cobra for the cult so long ago.

You stayed in this position for about an hour; none dared approach you, though they began to leave jewellery for you, or rather, for Samarda to wear.

When finally, a younger priestess came forward to ask, "Great incarnate of the serpent, what shall we do next? Our plans are at your disposal."

"And what are those plans? What do they contain?'' You asked.

''Our plan was always to infiltrate the government, make one of our own the grand vizier, and begin to influence events from there on out, but we're still proscribed and have suffered many setbacks.'' She said the last part with a small part of fear, but you weren't wrathful, for they had been without your influence to guide them.

There was another matter you had to decide upon, namely what you had been pondering before the priestess had approached you: what to do with Samarda, the one who had found you, the one around whose neck your necklace containing your spirit clung like a snake. You could reward her, of course, but she must first be bound to you in a more permanent way.

There was a ritual for it, and you could make it so she would be your human intermediary between yourself and the cult if you were ever out or away, but you could also simply be rid of her, leave behind her and the caravan and select a new bearer.

What to do with Samarda?
>I tire of her; feed her to the snakes.
>I have had enough of her; wipe her memories and put her back on the streets.
>The status quo is fine, but she shall be formally inducted and marked before I move on.
>She is my finder, my first modern servant. I shall reward her by subjecting her to the ritual that makes an archpriestess, the highest position in the cult of yore.

And what shall be your instructions to the cult?
>Continue to try to infiltrate, but I shall reunite the other sects.
>Continue to try to infiltrate; I shall remain here.
>Tell them to lie low while I shall travel and contact the other sects.
>Write-in.

>>6302999
>The status quo is fine, but she shall be formally inducted and marked before I move on.
>Continue to try to infiltrate, but I shall reunite the other sects.
The snake pit calls to me

>>6302999
>The status quo is fine, but she shall be formally inducted and marked before I move on.
>She is my finder, my first modern servant. I shall reward her by subjecting her to the ritual that makes an archpriestess, the highest position in the cult of yore.

I'd be fine with either status quo or the archpriestess ritual but I figure that could be after shes earned it more naturally. Although if the ritual actually made us both stronger theres some argument to do it and let her grow into it. If the next cultists can sense her as Archpriestess it would certainly help next time.

Otherwise if they know where some of the other cults are they could help us so we don't have to personally convince every sect hoping for a 3/3. Send out a message, or a letter of introduction, a herald, an artifact.

>Continue to try to infiltrate, but I shall reunite the other sects.

I'm tempted to stay here now that we have their allegiance, but it would be quite nice to see more of the world. Grab some more artifacts from tombs. Connect with the other sects, who will be motivated to work and cooperate. More time to work on our little family caravan, which can become a good way to communicate with each sect we find.

>>6302999
>The status quo is fine, but she shall be formally inducted and marked before I move on

What >>6303010 said really. She’s given competent service. Don’t really see any gain in killing her, although im hesitant to rush into such a major promotion for her. Good on her for finding us though.

Probably worth keeping her around though. If nothing else having a perspective that isn’t from a groveling zealot could be helpful.

>Continue to try to infiltrate; I shall remain here

>>6303041
Srry Voted wrong here. Should have been

>Continue to try to infiltrate, but I shall reunite the other sects.

While you were rather, what's the word, not fond, or liking, you have taken a special interest in Samarda; though raised by a heretic, she has proven herself to be the most vital instrument in your coming return, and you have already earmarked her for a spot in the new order.

But that spot should be earned, not given, or else you would be betraying your creed as the snake god; perhaps in due time, she would earn the spot of Archpriestess of the Snake Cult. Though she would obviously have to earn it.

Her previous dedication had been…lacking, obviously, though through no fault of her own, she would become archpriest, but she would have to complete several trials and pilgrimages for you first, which shall give you all more time to corrupt her.

But first, she should be inducted in full, and you knew what that meant, but before you did that, you had one last thing to do: you rose from your throne, walked over to your altar, placed the diadem of the moonmaiden upon it, and struck it with a dagger.

''I bring this offer to you, O snake god.'' You said in Samarda's god, the diadem broke open and for a while shone a bright light before you began to absorb the magical power. Sucking in the light and leaving only darkness.

A good meal, though you were still far off from being able to physically manifest in the mortal realm. But now, you could reach out in full, if you so wished, and influence events in a more direct manner. You couldn't be seen, no, but you could make your voice be heard through whispers in the minds of mortals, planting seeds of doubt and fear, whereas previously you needed Samarda to bring you to them.

You then left her body, made her walk up to some pillows, and then kept her in a trance; you didn't have any unexpected tantrums or defiance. "Bring forth the chalice." You commanded in your true, disembodied voice, which came from nowhere and everywhere in the room. The priests brought over the chalice filled with the venom of your cobras. They gave it to Saramda, who drank it without a fuss; she then collapsed on the floor. But she was not dead; no, even if it were life-threatening, your power would keep her on the side of the living.

You then said the words that would seal her fate. "Mark her."

The cult tattooist came forth with the necessary needles and ink and began to get to work. The reason behind this practice was obvious: once you were in, you were in for life, though with the caveat that it be placed somewhere obscured to avoid raising suspicion. Only in a few select cases did they mark themselves in visible places, but those were usually the most fanatical warriors of the cult, who normally guarded the sanctums.

>>6303183
By the time the tattooist was finished and retreated back to his previous place of standing, she awoke a few moments later. Lucid for the first time, you suppose that normally she would've screamed or panicked, but she simply stood up, walked over to your altar, overlooked by a great golden snake with ruby eyes. And knelt.
''I pledge myself to you, O master serpent. I shall be your instrument, your loyal bearer of your remains, and the dagger that shall strike the backs of your enemies.'' she whispered, her voice filled with reverence.

With her induction now fully completed, the other member came forth to do her own version of welcoming her; a few of them lit incense and chanted in unison, though the high priest, a snake of a woman if you had ever seen one, with heavy green make-up and a silk robe adorned with serpent motifs, led the ritual. She gently gave Samarda a brown basket with a lid, within which were laid two snake eggs.

''All snake priestesses are bonded to their serpentine companions from birth,'' she explained. ''Though you weren't born to be raised with us, the reserve also holds true; you shall be given two, one for yourself and one for our master, whom you carry with you. Raise them, and they shall guard you as well as ten dogs.'' Samarda, still dousy and aching, accepted this gift and the rest of the gifts, which were just various jewels and whatnot, baubles for mortals.

"As to your earlier question, I have pondered it, and thou shalt receive my answer. You have been trying to infiltrate the city government, of which I approve, and I would demand you continue. I, however, shall be on my way; the world has changed much during my absence, and I wish to reunite the disparate snake cults; therefore, I shall be off, leaving you to your mission.

The cultist, quite predictably, begged you not to go, pleading and begging for you to lead them, but you turned them down. So you gave them some more advice.

''Remember, do not try to take over by murder, or at least not too much murder; that makes it too obvious. Come together occasionally, pose as nobles simply having a good time, and rope in as many of the bored and power-seeking as possible. They shall be thy stepping stones.

>>6303184
''But great lord, at the very least you should have something of use with you; take one of our warriors, our priests or priestesses – we cannot let you leave empty-handed.'' The vizier of the cult spoke. You looked across the room; here and there were the ables and the experienced. And you would have them jumping at the chance to travel with you.

>NO, my decision is final, but thy willingness to help thy master is noted.
>"That one" A burly-looking man, covered from head to toe in snakes and ritual etchings, though he hid it behind heavy clothes and headcoverings.
> "This one" A priestess with a fierce gaze and a staff adorned with ancient symbols. She was adorned in a simple light green robe, with a headband bearing a small snake.
> "That one" A young man with a mischievous smile and a glint in his eye, his hands fidgeting with excitement. A professional thief if ever you have seen one.
> ''The one in the corner in the back'' A petite woman, her eyes darting as you named her, an assassin to her core.

>>6303185
>"That one" A young man with a mischievous smile and a glint in his eye, his hands fidgeting with excitement. A professional thief if ever you have seen one

Evil Aladdin? I could think of situations where that skillset could be helpful

>>6303185
>"That one" A burly-looking man, covered from head to toe in snakes and ritual etchings, though he hid it behind heavy clothes and headcoverings.
We could use a goon.

>>6303185
>> "This one" A priestess with a fierce gaze and a staff adorned with ancient symbols. She was adorned in a simple light green robe, with a headband bearing a small snake.

A Priestess that might actually be able to use magic and spread the word. Probably the most educated.

>>6303185
>"This one" A priestess with a fierce gaze and a staff adorned with ancient symbols. She was adorned in a simple light green robe, with a headband bearing a small snake.

>>6303185
> "That one" A young man with a mischievous smile and a glint in his eye, his hands fidgeting with excitement. A professional thief if ever you have seen one.

>>6303185
> "This one" A priestess with a fierce gaze and a staff adorned with ancient symbols. She was adorned in a simple light green robe, with a headband bearing a small snake.

>>6302999
>The status quo is fine, but she shall be formally inducted and marked before I move on.
>Continue to try to infiltrate, but I shall reunite the other sects.

"This one" You used Samarda's finger to a long, proudly standing snake priestess. With pale green eyes, an uncommon sight amongst these people, but the initiation poison was known to have side effects.

She knelt before you. ''I am Nifari, novice priestess, forty-fifth in the hierarchy of the cult. It shall be my honour to travel alongside you, master. And alongside you, bearer.

Because you didn't have any hands, she kissed the hand of Samarda instead, which you would have considered offensive were it not for circumstances being what they were.

The vizier then took over instructing her. "Do not come back with her right away; wait until the day before the caravan is to leave, then book along as a passenger to their end destination, and pack your belongings in the meantime; take as many travelling clothes as possible. Once you're out there, you must follow our master's every will and demand. Have you understood?''

''I have, vizier; I shall do as you and the snake god ask of us.'' she replied.

You then had Samarda bring herself and the basket containing the snake eggs back to the caravan camp outside the city walls. You ordered her to put them somewhere nondescript and told her to feed them once they hatched, though after about a year they could hunt on their own.

Once you were returned to your usual host family, the usual practice and merchantship of the brothers came and went; the city merchants purchased the spices, silk, and other goods they had brought from afar. A good chunk of them were sold off in bulk, and Naram was satisfied with the yield he was bringing in. Simbar, who had taken to hiding his burns behind his nomadic veils, handled the haggling for prices. Naram was pleased with the profits from the sales, while Simbar skilfully negotiated prices for their goods.

With the time for sale overcame the time to buy in; Naram began stocking up on supplies, finding new delivery contracts, and preparing for their next journey to distant lands. Simbar continued to conceal his scars, expertly navigating the bustling markets to secure the best deals on goods they would need for their travels.

The next stop would be on the coast, to the west, the city of Al-Torniach. Which was the first stop on what was considered the borderland between the Occident and the Orient, where they hoped to sell off what remained of their merchandise.

>>6303511
And as promised, the day before they left, a woman approached the caravan. Nifari had forsaken the priestly garb and donned her disguise for the journey.

''Kindly asking your pardon, sirs, but I heard you were undertaking a journey out to the west. I am due to travel there myself, and I am willing to pay handsomely for the fare.'' She said, holding a pouch of silver and gold.

Naram simply shrugged. "Well, the camels have been unburdened, and extra money is always welcome; we shall begin our journey tomorrow. So I recommend you fetch your belongings. Do you have any servants to accompany you?"

"No, sir, I am going alone." Nifari replied, subtly nodding to Samarda.

And so the next morning, they went off again, this time with Nifari in tow, eager to begin their journey out west. The inclusion of a proper snake priestess would pay its dividends, though you should be careful about not overplaying your hand. Those two snakes, once hatched, and the one Nifari had hidden with her, would act as your eyes and ears around the camp.

But you had things to do. Those two brothers were ensnared but not enthralled, so they presented a risk, as did their employees, who you have been ignoring for now.

>Simbar shames himself for my 'gift' I should correct that.
>Naram remains too independent in mind, either he shall fall, or I shall have him elimated
>The guards, porters and other workers in the caravan are loose ends; have Nafiri start preaching and indoctrinating them.
>Considering how she's effectively your understudy now, and you now have an assistant to dump all the theoretical on, you shall begin educating Samarda in the dark arts.

>>6303513
>>Naram remains too independent in mind, either he shall fall, or I shall have him elimated

>>6303513
>The guards, porters and other workers in the caravan are loose ends; have Nafiri start preaching and indoctrinating them.

>>6303513
>>The guards, porters and other workers in the caravan are loose ends; have Nafiri start preaching and indoctrinating them.

>>6303513
>Naram remains too independent in mind, either he shall fall, or I shall have him eliminated

>>6303513
>The guards, porters and other workers in the caravan are loose ends; have Nafiri start preaching and indoctrinating them.

>>6303513
>Considering how she's effectively your understudy now, and you now have an assistant to dump all the theoretical on, you shall begin educating Samarda in the dark arts.
When we have more of our magic, we won't even NEED these people... Though Simbar shows promise. Naram seems too strong-willed and responsible to be as easily manipulated.

The caravan is much, much more than the three siblings you have been focusing your attention on. Porters, guards, guides and cooks are all present, and all have a vital role to play in this caravan. Some of them are on permanent retainer; others are hired on a temporary basis, and that is exactly what bothers you.

Every hireling that comes and goes is a loose end; while they might not know it now, or will forget it, some of them will talk about the mysterious occurrences that have been going on within the caravan.

And if there is one thing you do not want, it is for word to spread about what evils you have been spreading and committing. No, the current caravan composition, with only one passenger, Nafiri, shall be the last permanent guest for the foreseeable future.

Aside from that, you have begun to distrust Naram, your taint hasn't spread, and his rule over the caravan is unquestioned; thus, you should start to subvert his authority.

Nafiri, an actual priestess of your cult, shall begin to preach about their ideals, while Samarda, Naram's sister, shall keep him in the dark. While they won't ever be inducted (not that you want them), they shall provide the perfect cover for your travels. There is much to uncover in the sands and cracked earth of this place, and were you to regain your form, you would need every piece of it.

But to preach, Nafiri decided to earn their trust first, to talk and understand, for she was of the opinion that ears would be opened to the word if the word came from a mouth they liked. She also let her pet and familiar, a snake typical of the cult, out at night to eat rodents and other foods while providing her with enough gossip, secrets and other information.

And so she would slowly ingratiate herself into the community of the caravan. Though she didn't neglect to talk to her new sister in faith every once in a while, Samarda pretended not to know her at first, though they would slowly start to warm to each other.

''You seem to be getting along with our passenger quite well, sister.'' Naram observed.

''She seems to be getting along with everyone, but we are the only two women in a caravan of men, and it gets lonely sometimes,'' Samarda replied with a knowing smile.

The caravan continued on along mountainous and hilly dryland. The heat was sometimes alleviated by the coastal winds that on occasion broke through the rugged and dried-up terrain.

Not that you cared much about any of that; you were using your second sight, seeing the unseen, for you remained clung between the worlds of the living and the dead. But it also enabled you to peer past the layers of the earth to uncover that which had long been forgotten and lost. And since you ate that diadem, it has become more accurate.

roll a 1d100, bo3, [DC 70] To see if you can find anything interesting on this part of the journey.

Rolled 68 (1d100)

>>6303925

Rolled 38 (1d100)

>>6303925

Rolled 86 (1d100)

>>6303925

There always has been much hidden within the sands; the kingdoms come and go, for this part of the world was already ancient before you came into it. The ziggurats, the pyramids, the palaces and the fortresses all rose and fell and were rebuilt and fell into ruin, and the only thing that remained unchanged was the sands.

Much has been lost, even of my own arts; the dark realm cannot arise anew without my guidance.

For the three caravanning siblings, of course, it was another treasure-hunting expedition, but you had leaked them a larger location this time around.

The pillars hadn't collapsed under their own weight as yet, but the skeleton of those unfortunate enough to recklessly enter this temple was visible among the rubble, a stark reminder of the dangers that lay within.

You didn't know what it exactly was that lay within, but it was something vicious, something that had claimed many lives before.

But beyond that, deeper in the old sanctum, there would most certainly be something worth claiming. It might also provide you with the occasion to rid or convert Naram, who was proving most resilient to the inherent corruption of your healing of him. This displeased you greatly, for while Samarda had been yours effectively from the moment she put on the necklace, and Simbar was increasingly under your spell, Naram's resistance posed a threat to your plans for domination.

''Shadow them, Nafiri. Stay hidden, but intervene if things prove dire. Just tell the guards that you shall post that you're curious.''

''But of course, Lord Serpent.'' She turned about to retrieve her staff from among the baggage she had brought with her.

''I would have thought you would have learnt your lesson by now, Simbar. Do you really want to continue doing this after the last incident?'' Naram spoke as he entered through the old entry.

''Shut up, Naram, I don't want to talk about that.'' He said with unusual malice before breaking off to search the first room. Through Samarda, who had been standing by, you hear Naram murmur. ''Since when is he so snappy? Something strange has been happening in these last few months.''

Samarda didn't hear him speak, for if she did, she most certainly would have distracted him from his suspicions. Samarda did not know you had already approached Simbar disguised as a fire spirit, and she didn't need to know; that would mess up your great masquerade.

>>6304084
Nevertheless, with all three of them in the temple together with their guards, you could begin getting to work.

You have 15/15 Dark Power, which shall allow you to directly manipulate events.

>Awaken the beast lurking within the temple, -7 DP
>Reanimate the carrion lying on the ground to give them a good scrap. -5 DP
> Create an illusion of a powerful enemy to sow chaos among the guards. -3 DP
>Push over a pillar, making it fall upon someone of your choice. -10 DP
>Blow out the torches -2 DP
>Awaken a swarm of fell bats -5 DP
>Conjure a spectral apparition to haunt and distract them. -4 DP

>>6301615
>Let all three of them go in.

So are we trying to kill off the guards? A little worried if we go too hard we may kill one of the siblings.

>>6304085
>Awaken a swarm of fell bats -5 DP

This seems like a modest challenge

>>6304107
Anon... It's been five days.

>>6304085
>Awaken the beast lurking within the temple, -7 DP
Maybe it will be something we can dominate and control?

>>6304085
>Awaken a swarm of fell bats -5 DP
rabies.
Wait, can an illusion be used to make guard stab each other thinking they saving another from an attacker?

>>6304085
>>Awaken the beast lurking within the temple, -7 DP

>>6304085
>>Awaken a swarm of fell bats -5 DP

You reach out deep into the dark crags and nooks of this old ruin; there are bats here, not of the ordinary kind. These are fell bats, wicked creatures that stalk the mountainous part of the desert for sheep and goats and the occasional shepherd. Though, they now still rest silently hundreds of metres above where the searching party is currently. It shall take but a short fuse to awaken them.

You reach into yourself; it is the first time you would be casting your powers in such an aggressive manner since losing your body. You concentrated and telepathically reached out to the sleeping bat swarm.

"Meat, meat, there is fresh meat to be had; they threaten your nests and your homes. Awake, awake.'' Communicating with creatures was easy, but sending so many of them messages took a lot more effort. The bats stirred, their screeches echoing through the cavern as they began to rouse from their slumber. You could feel their hunger and anger fuelling their awakening, ready to defend their territory at all costs.

''What was that?'' Naram asked as he swung his torch above him to take a better look. He cautiously walked away from the centre of the room.

Nafiri had remained outside; she would consistently stay a room behind to shadow them in case there was an emergency, or in the worst-case scenario, to pick up the necklace if all of them died.

They were coming, racing down fast to sweep up and eat anything in their path. Naram's heart raced as he realised the danger they were in, as the screeching and flapping of the bats grew louder and closer. Naram, Simbar, Samarda, and the guards that they had brought with them drew their weapons, preparing to defend themselves against the oncoming swarm of bats.

Roll a 1d100 [DC45] to determine the outcome of this encounter.



0 Success = The bats are overwhelming; nobody can get to safety.
1 Success = The bats come with ferocity; only one person can make it to safety.
2 Success = The bats are briefly held back, which shall allow for two of the three to make it out.
3 Success = Naram, Simbar, Samarda, and all of their guards successfully fight off the bats and escape unharmed.

What will come after this will be a bit experimental, so bear with me.

Would you like to influence the battle even further?
>Imbue Samarda with dark vitality, keeping her safe from any consequences. -2 DP.
>Imbue Simbar with dark vitality, keeping him safe from any consequences. -2 DP.
>Imbue Naram with dark vitality, keeping him safe from any consequences. -2 DP.
>Weaken Naram by sapping his strength -4 DP
>Weaken Simbar by sapping his strength -4 DP
>Weaken Samarda by sapping her strength -4 DP

Rolled 60 (1d100)

>>6304428

Rolled 65 (1d100)

>>6304428

Rolled 40 (1d100)

>>6304428
We shan't fail in this.

Rolled 3 (1d3)

Alright, let's see who gets out unharmed.

1:Naram
2:Simbar
3:Samarda

>>6304519
This sister exists to watch her brothers experience death.

You would not be much of a lord if you didn't at least try to protect some of your subjects, and you would make certain that it would be the one who is the most use for you; the last thing you would want is for the bats to make off with the necklace, as the beast doesn't possess the intelligence for you to communicate with.

And so you directly contacted the Samarda. Your bearer would at the very least make it out alive if the other two were going to be severely injured or even dead.

"Run for it! To the exit – those things will shred you apart if you're unlucky. Run!'' You hissed at Samarda, who bolted to the exit and around the corner, where she encountered Nafiri.

"What are you doing here?" Was the first thing she asked of Nafiri.

''The master ordered me to follow you in case there was anything dangerous.'' Nafiri replied, Just a swarm of great fell bats flew screeching out of the exit. Flying low over the caravan before turning about and disappearing up the cavern that lay above the entrance of the sanctum.

Samarda's heart was beating; you felt it, full of the excitement of the escape and the fate of her brothers.

She quickly went back inside, this time bringing Nafiri along with her. Though a good chunk of the guards were either dead or dying, you had kept tabs on whether the brother would actually die. They hadn't, though; here and there they had been cut, but it wasn't life-threatening.

The same could not be said about the guards, some of whom had been snatched up entirely; others were disembowelled.

The two brothers were on opposite sides of the room; Simbar had made use of a lower section of the room in combination with his shield and sword to defend himself, whereas Naram had used his shield and spear to hold off the bats from a corner of the room. Both of them were injured, slumped down, and exhausted.

There was opportunity here; with the bats probably satiated, they wouldn't be a problem when you had them push deeper into the sanctum, and it provided you with the opportunity to tighten your grip on Simbar, if not Naram, and if Samarda is unwilling to terminate her brothers, you could have Nafiri do the job while she wasn't looking.

>Tell Samarda to cauterise Simbar's wounds with fire, to destabilise him further.
>Tell Samarda to cauterise Simbar's wounds with fire, to destabilise him further, and have Nafiri use your 'gift' to kill Naram.
>Have them carry out Simbar, while you shall focus on corrupting Naram.
>Speed up the bleeding process, so neither of them shall survive.
>Have the two try to heal them both

>>6304526
>Have them carry out Simbar, while you shall focus on corrupting Naram.

Gaslight Gatekeep Snekboss

>>6304526
>Have them carry out Simbar, while you shall focus on corrupting Naram.
Seems like the play here

>>6304526
>Have them carry out Simbar, while you shall focus on corrupting Naram.

>>6304526
>Have them carry out Simbar, while you shall focus on corrupting Naram.

>>6304526
>>Speed up the bleeding process, so neither of them shall survive.

To your surprise, Naram remained quite lucid. Unlike Simbar, who had fallen unconscious on account of his wounds. Naram remained slumped against the wall, watching your two minions approach him.

Even more to your surprise, he grimaces as he sees his sister arrive with her new best friend. Naram's eyes narrow as he takes in the sight of his sister and her companion, a mixture of anger and resignation evident on his face.

Slowly, he rises up from the floor, clutching both his shield and using his spear as a crutch. In spite of it all, he's somehow standing. When you had expected him to be as incapacitated as Simbar, you didn't like it, especially since he kept grimacing.

''Brother, we must get you out of this place; it is dangerous out here,'' Samarda asked.

"Not so fast, Samarda. I have been thinking, thinking about a lot of things. Ever since you joined the caravan, strange things have been happening.'' He said in a serious tone.

''Naram, your'' Samarda tried to reason with him, but he interrupted her.

''I couldn't tell it at first, and there hasn't been anything abnormal since you joined at first, but then Simbar dragged us off into that tomb, found those artefacts, and ever since then you and the rest of them have been behaving strangely. First, you go on a rampage during that scuffle with the bandits, then whenever you or that other girl are near," he pointed to Nafiri, ''I feel a strange pain in my chest,''

You had enough of this; you would make him shut up. Part of him was touched by you; you would make him shut up. You reached out and tried to dry up his throat.

''Argh, and then there's that, that constant pain I feel whenever I go against your whims, or when my resolve saps when you want something like in Almurbah.'' He winced.

>>6304909
"But that chalice Simbar found isn't harmful." Samarda objected.

''That is because I got rid of it!'' Naram suddenly shouted, "I buried it in the sands. Not that he paid much mind to it after he got burnt, but there was another treasure there, wasn't there? Samarda?'' He said with a bitter tone, his eyes flashing with anger. "You know what I'm talking about."

Samarda didn't directly clutch the necklace, though you did feel her heart start to beat faster while she was reaching around in her cloak. Nafiri likewise tightened her grip on her staff.

"And now those bats sweep down with their damned claws, cutting out many a good man's throat. And of all of us, you make it out unharmed and bring that girl who hired passage back in Almurbah. I do not know why, but there's something off about you, and I think I know why.'' Samarda's eyes narrowed, though you felt her panicking.

''Give me the necklace, you know the one; even if it kills me, I shall cast it into the crags of the abyss where it belongs.'' Naram's face was one of grim resolve as he arose in full, back on his two feet, hand reached out.

At this point, you were furiously trying to make him shut up, sleep or fall by way of the wound in the chest. You could simply retract the essence you poured into him, but it would kill him. Your initial plan to subtly corrupt him with subtle mind games and manipulations was going down the drain the way things were going. Something had to be done, and quick.

You have 10/15 Dark Power, which shall allow you to directly manipulate events.

>Tell the girls to kill him; you have had enough.
>Tell them to subdue him, then sacrifice him to you.
>Tell them to subdue and then bind him so you might pluck about in his mind.
>Enough of this; you shall retract your investment in him, killing him [+1 DP].
>I have had enough of your defiance, Naram; I shall enter thy mind in full [-3 DP]

>>6304911
>I have had enough of your defiance, Naram; I shall enter thy mind in full [-3 DP]
We have power to spare, might as well break his will hands-on.

>>6304911
>>Tell them to subdue him, then sacrifice him to you.

>>6304911
>Enough of this; you shall retract your investment in him, killing him [+1 DP].

>>6304911
>I have had enough of your defiance, Naram; I shall enter thy mind in full [-3 DP]

Foolish mortal. If he won’t serve us willingly…

>>6304911
>I have had enough of your defiance, Naram; I shall enter thy mind in full [-3 DP]
beast surprise entrance

>>6304911
>Enough of this; you shall retract your investment in him, killing him [+1 DP].

>>6304911
>I have had enough of your defiance, Naram; I shall enter thy mind in full [-3 DP]

>>6304911
>Tell them to subdue him, then sacrifice him to you.

It has been long enough; your patience is running thin. Again and again, he dares to defy you; either way, he shall fall under your sway.

Samarda and Nafiri remain silent for now; neither of them makes a move to fight him, but you will, and you shall.

You concentrate to begin coalescing your dark essence into a force that shall forcibly bend him to your will. The power surges through you; a dark and potent energy shall brook no denials.

Then you lunge forth, out from your necklace, and though they can't see you, your two devotees most certainly sense your attack.

The air grows warmer as you reach into Naram's mind, though he resists still. Were you more powerful, you would have been able to overpower him, but you were still brittle from your imprisonment and had to try to wrestle him in his mind.

Begone, fiend! You have no place here! Release your hold over my sister and brother! Naram's voice echoes in his mind, filled with determination and defiance. You feel a surge of anger and frustration as he pushes back against your influence, but you refuse to give up easily.

Thou shalt submit, or thou shalt perish! Thy sister made cause with me of her own accord, and thy brother did likewise. They are mine now; their souls now dance and sing for my approval, and there is nothing you can do to stop me. Your words drip with malice and contempt, but Naram's resolve remains unshaken as he continues to resist your dark influence.

In spite of it all, in his mindscape he stands defiant; he is different from his siblings, and you knew it, having forsaken subterfuge for brute force, but for now he remains unbroken.

>>6305189
You pushed in again, flooding his mind with images of horrors, abominations, and unspeakable terrors, which made him howl and convulse in pain, but he didn't budge.

He was too resolute, too determined to succumb to your evil intentions. Naram's inner strength surprised even you, the Dark Lord, the Serpent God, the being with so many names and faces you most certainly have forgotten them all.

But you were not one to give up easily, for you thrived on the challenge of breaking those who dared to defy you. As you continued to assault his mind, he slowly began to give ground, though you had to pull back on occasion, for if you weren't careful, you could severely damage both his mind and his body, killing him or leaving him a gibbering wreck, incapable of even walking.

But were you able to corrupt him in full, he would be yours, on a level only Samarda had achieved, and he would be even more servile.

Battle of the wills has been initiated!

Roll a 1d100 [DC35] (hard base difficulty of 40, -5 DC, +1 adverse re-roll due to Naram's strong will).



0 success: Temporarily throwing you out of his mind, he quickly kills himself to deny you his service.
1 success: You manage to break him, in a bit of a literal sense of the word. He is rendered completely insane and will require the occasional wrangling to get him to do what you want.
2 success: While you are able to subjugate him, his body is permanently damaged due to the intense mental battle. His skin pale; his hair shall turn white.
3 success: Despite the intense mental battle, you are able to subjugate him without causing any permanent damage. Rendering him the final sibling to fall under your sway.

Rolled 63 (1d100)

>>6305190
MIND CRUSH

Rolled 9 (1d100)

>>6305190
Break! Break! Break!

Rolled 59 (1d100)

>>6305189

Rolled 31 (1d100)

>>6305193
Well, I suppose I should use Naram's one adverse re-roll to try and overturn anon's 9.

>>6305196
snake win

You plunge deeper into his mind, scorching and destroying as you go. You didn't care anymore; you wanted him on his knees, begging for mercy and at your complete mercy.

Mercy you wouldn't render unto him considering the circumstances, you drove deeper, making him convulse in pain and plead for release from the torment you were inflicting.

On and on you pushed deeper and deeper, like scraping his ever-so-fragile human mind against sandpaper.

No, no, I am, I am arrrgghhh! What came out of his mind next was incomprehensible gibberish as his mindscape collapsed around him; whatever was left of his sanity was now completely broken. Though he wouldn't be the most reliable of minions, he most certainly would be a useful test subject if his other uses aren't up to what they used to be.

As you observed his mental breakdown, a sinister smile crept across your face, knowing that his shattered psyche would make him the perfect pawn. As you left his mind, you turned back to instruct Samarda and Nafiri both, though you decided to give Samarda a warning.

"Let this be a lesson for thee, for those who defy my will shan't be spared; this is the price of disobedience." You sternly remarked to her.

Naram, of course, had collapsed while you were mindbreaking him, though he stood up once more, still weak from his wounds, and with a primal roar, he weakly lunged forth, discarding his weapons and acting like a wild animal. You quickly forced him to sleep before addressing the two women once more.

"His mind is shattered, and it shall take a while for me to decide what to do with him. Straitjacket him and gag him as well; his gibberish displeases me greatly."

The two of them quietly tied the former caravan leader up, who murmured the occasional incomprehensible phrase as he drifted off into unconsciousness. With the immediate threat neutralised, you turned back to the matter of plundering this sanctum.

You let your cultists on, past the burial chambers and over the chasm whereunder the great beast lurked, which was thankfully asleep as of right now, its snores echoing through the cavern. The treasure you sought lay just beyond, waiting to be claimed by your devoted followers.

>>6305204
There, past the scrolls, long since rotten and crumbling, lay a tome of ancient knowledge bound in leather as black as night. Its pages are full of arcane runes, symbology and the drawings of skeletons, wraiths and other carrion. Nafiri opened it for you, for it was in a language neither of them knew, but you did.

And though you couldn't cast the spell yourself just yet, this book would be an important part of your return as soon as you were able to devote the time to research it.

Samarda quickly removed it from its stand, and they left as quickly as they had come, for they had a problem; with Naram completely insane, they needed a solution for how to keep control of the caravan. For they would most certainly fall into disarray when they find out what happened to their leader, currently bound and gagged and in no state to lead them.

Nafiri had done her job by preaching and spreading your teachings, but only a part of the caravan had fallen under her, and thereby your influence. The rest were loyal to Naram, and without him, chaos would surely ensue. Samarda knew they needed to act fast to prevent a mutiny and maintain order within the caravan.

>Have Nafiri continue to preach, while Samarda subtly 'removes' dissenters.
>It is time, time to purge, time to ensure that only those loyal to you remain within the caravan.
>Continue on, like nothing happened, as if Naram's new eccentricity is inconsequential.
>It is time to disband the Al-Marinizid caravan, methinks, and drive them to the four winds.

>>6305205
>>Have Nafiri continue to preach, while Samarda subtly 'removes' dissenters.
Should make sure that the rest of the family doesn't mind or have second thoughts after seeing what has happened to Naram.

>>6305205
>>It is time, time to purge, time to ensure that only those loyal to you remain within the caravan.

>>6305205
>It is time, time to purge, time to ensure that only those loyal to you remain within the caravan.

>>6305205
>Have Nafiri continue to preach, while Samarda subtly 'removes' dissenters.

A velvet glove wrapped inside a steel fist

Rolled 1 (1d2)

An impasse, time to roll.

1: Purge
2: Preach and removal

With Naram no longer a threat, he is also in no state to lead his caravan, but that didn't mean his followers remained a threat.

They're leaderless for now, but if you allow them to fester, or worse, were you to allow them to regroup and organise under a new leader, they could become an even greater danger. It would not do; no, it was time for action.

Your loyal instrument, Nafiri, would aid you in this cause; she had covertly converted a good chunk of the porters and guards to your side, and with most of Naram's armed guards turned into lunch for the bats, you were poised to strike.

''Nafiri, thou hast served me most faithfully; for now it shall be time to purge this caravan of the unbelievers. I shall leave the minute details to you, for I have faith in thy skill. Leave the other brother alone in this endeavour; they might be of use to me yet.'' You telepathically communicated your orders to Nafiri, who simply bowed her head in obedience.

''Your will be done, great lord; I shall call hither the true believers, who shall smite your enemies in your name.'' She messaged the thought back to you. And you also informed Samarda about the plan and ordered her to stay close.

It began slowly, Nafiri calling together her band of followers one by one over the course of the day; you had Samarda giving specific orders that none were to disturb her poor brothers. She, being one of the foremost experts on herbalism (a side effect of learning about those poisons), made most trust this decision.

Nafiri had begun to gather the sections of the caravan she considered to be reliable; most of the remaining caravanners were too busy tending to their own tasks and responsibilities to notice the subtle preparations taking place.

As the sun beat down upon them, Nafiri looked down upon them from a ridge in the desert, where she had lit a brazier for extra effect.
''My brothers in faith, it is once more that I gather you here together on a most urgent occasion. Our beloved leader, the caravan master Naram, has been driven mad by the machinations of those who would do him harm; they have locked him up in his tent and are making themselves master of his fortunes.'' There were some who murmured, but they were drowned out by an increasing fervour that swept through the ranks.

''We have been cruelly deceived and are about to be betrayed, but it must not be so! We shall extract our revenge! We shall rise up against these traitors and free our leader from their clutches. Tonight, we shall stain the sands with the blood of the traitors!'' As she reached her crescendo, the crowd roared with bloodlust, their eyes glinting with a fierce determination to take action.

While the men back in the camp proper might have heard the exact words, the screams and roars were impossible to ignore, but most dismissed it; Nafiri had been doing this type of thing before, but now it would lead to something.

>>6305378
As the starry blanket fell over the sand, there were stirrings in the camp; here and there men broke off from their campfires and watchposts and began to gather, and Samarda began coating their blades with a deadly poison, preparing for the impending slaughter. As per usual, the men would slowly fall asleep or inebriate themselves with alcohol or other substances, unaware of the danger lurking just beyond their camp. Nafiri's plan was coming to fruition.
As the first man approached, a loyalist guard called out, "Wait, Adil, your shift isn't in-ungh." A quick dagger to the neck made the man slump down.

Similar incidents began happening all across; the camp resistance was feeble as they began burning down tents with men still in them. The chaos and panic spread quickly as the attackers moved swiftly through the camp, leaving a trail of destruction in their wake. Nafiri watched with glee while the camp partially burnt down, while Samarda left to go and make certain her brothers were safe.

She didn't say anything to Naram, who was looking looney-eyed and was still babbling nonsense. She did go to see Simbar, who was still lying in his bedroll.

''S-S-Samarda, what is going on? I see fires.'' His tone shifted from meekness to an obsessive pyromania, though you didn't want to deal with that right now.

"Make him sleep." You would make Samarda lull him back to sleep, with some help from yours truly, of course.

"Sssshhh, everything is fine, brother; we're merely ensuring that we shall all be safe and sound," she whispered soothingly, gently stroking his forehead until his eyes fluttered shut. Though she had touched his scorched skin, she looked as if she had plunged her fingers in camel dung.

Outside, the purge went on, slaughtering what remained of the uncorrupted by the dozen. Some would flee, but the desert would not let them escape; either the poison would get to them or the sun would, and besides, none suspected your involvement.

Come the following morning, you conclude that the corporate downsizing has been achieved, and you could sell off the remaining camels at the next stop. Speaking of which, with Namar a gibbering madman, Simbar a half-functioning piece of bacon, and Samarda dancing to your tunes like a puppet, you were now the effective master of the caravan.

Which, of course, meant that you now held the ability to dictate the course by which you travel. Originally, you had planned to coast along with Naram from city to city, contacting the various sects of the snake cult, but you were free to go and come as you pleased now.

>Continue with the original plan; there was nothing wrong with it.
>Scrap the plan; we should begin to stalk the desert for more ruins.
>Continue with the original plan, but plan in a short 'seminar' in the dark arts.

>>6305379
Nicely done, Nafiri.
>Continue with the original plan, but plan in a short 'seminar' in the dark arts.
Without the civilized caravanners' eyes on us, we might as well do some of the dark sorcery we were infamous for.

>>6305379
>Continue with the original plan, but plan in a short 'seminar' in the dark arts.

Smart snake

Enough of them are dead, so you now have more than enough supplies to stay here for a while. The snake cults can wait for now; they have been waiting for you for more than a millennium, so you should at the least begin to lay the groundwork.

Simbar, Nafiri, and Samarda were all followers; that much is true, but they are bound by their own mundane nature, limited, for you suspect that there shall be need of great and expensive amounts of magical research in your return.

Normally magic is reserved for a happy few; those born with the gift are the only ones who can manipulate it. But there are always loopholes to override and violate the laws of reality and grant powers unnatural to those who might not deserve them but who are willing to serve you for such knowledge.

But first, you would need to compliment your minions; they have done their job well, and you shall reward them with a special lesson in the dark arts. A small reward, a trivial part of your broad academic knowledge of the arcane, for which they shall be grateful, for you have the feeling both of them shall grasp at the opportunity for more power.

Unfortunately, Simbar was in no position to learn anything, a pity, but there would be plenty of time; you were immortal after all, and mortals were fun playthings, these three. So you called hither your two most devoted henchwomen, Samarda and Nafiti, cultists they be, but that wasn't enough; you didn't need mere worshippers or followers. You needed disciples, acolytes, and apprentices willing to do your bidding without question, and these two were perfect candidates for your dark teachings.

A day after the slaughter, while the lower porters were dragging away the corpses, you made both of them go into the old sanctum, with the dark tome at their side.

''The two of you are worthy of being dubbed my most able servants, and for that I shall reward thee thus, for I am a good and generous god.'' You softly hissed.

Both of them knelt in gratitude, but you called them forth. ''Enough, now is not the time for worship, but for me to teach you, my students.''

You opened the book with a brush of the wind and then blew out the candles; the two of them panicked. But you calmed them. ''Do not fear the dark, though you walk under the light; the dark isn't your enemy but your ally. Embrace it, and it shall make you strong.'' You dictated.

>>6305417
"We shall begin with the basics. Both of you have been blessed by me, so let us start with the foundation of your powers." They listened intently, eager to learn from their master.

The dark arts are a wide, complex field, and you didn't want to spend all your time teaching your evil understudies, so you decided to begin with a specific subset.

>Necromancy, the art of raising and communicating with the dead.
>Demonology, the art of summoning and binding demons to your will.
>Blood magic, the art of using blood as a source of power for spells and rituals.
>Umbramancy, the art of manipulating and creating shadows.

>>6305418
>>Blood magic, the art of using blood as a source of power for spells and rituals.
Blood is always available

>>6305418
>Blood magic, the art of using blood as a source of power for spells and rituals.
This'll likely be the easiest to make use of on the road.

>>6305418
>Blood magic, the art of using blood as a source of power for spells and rituals.

>Umbramancy, the art of manipulating and creating shadows.
Shadow magic with an assassin? A classic combo, but I can't complain about blood magic.

>>6305418
>Demonology, the art of summoning and binding demons to your will.
rings

>>6305418
>Necromancy, the art of raising and communicating with the dead.

>>6305418
>>Demonology, the art of summoning and binding demons to your will.

''Come, listen closely to what I am about to tell thee, for the usage of thy blood, the very essence of thy being, is of utmost importance in this matter; blood magic is by its very nature based around the usage of blood, be it animal, human, dwarf or elf; it is the fuel by which thou might gain the powers thou wasn't born with. Let us begin with a simple ritual offering. Take thy dagger, if it be clean, and prick your fingers, both of you.''

They hesitated at first, and though they did it with a hairpin instead of a dagger, a small puddle of blood soon filled a small bowl placed in between them.

''You should always use fresh blood; the dried-up remains of the guards around you aren't going to do the trick. Normal blood is fine; the blood of the elder ones, of kings and queens, is even better. But the most important thing is that it must be fresh,'' you explained while turning the pages in the book.

You quickly browsed through the book until you came to the page that you were looking for. One which depicted a circle in which were placed arcane symbols.

"Take thy finger, the pricked one, and draw this symbol, for with the connection between the blood in the floor and the blood within thy own veins, the ritual shall be complete," you whispered as Nafiri and Samarda did as instructed, slowly drawing the symbol on the floor. The room suddenly grew colder, and a faint hum filled the air, signalling that the ritual was indeed taking effect.

The remaining blood in the bowl began to boil, turning into a red mist that glowed and simmered as it slowly dissipated.

''The communion has been completed. You have been imbued, for a time, with newfound arcane power. Try it; boil out that corpse, both of you.''

Both of them walked over to a respective corner of the room, focusing their energy on the corpse lying there. With a swift motion, they both raised their hands and concentrated, causing the body to convulse and then disintegrate into nothing but the skeleton, picked completely clean.

Both of them then convulsed in pain, for blood magic wasn't for the soft-hearted. As they collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath, they knew that the price of power was steep but necessary for their survival in this unforgiving world.

>>6305655
It continued on like this for a while; for a month you educated them in the basics of the forbidden art. You also warned them of the effects of excessive use, pale skin, and red eyes, and if they weren't prickly about whose blood they would take, they might as well sleep in the rosebushes. In spite of it, you saw the hunger for more in both their eyes, though Samarda remained more restrained than Nafiri. Though both of them would be vain enough not to sully their natural beauty with the telltale scars of drawing out blood.

As the days passed, you noticed their skills improving rapidly, their movements becoming more fluid and precise. But you would have to call it a halt, for you wished to continue on your journey; though the purge had thinned out the amount of caravaneers, there were still enough of them left to make it to Al-Torniach, the pale harbour upon the cliffs.

Soon enough, you were leaving behind the wilderness once more, navigating through the mountains and vales. The coastal regions of the great desert were always greener than the inland; here and there were actual green spots in between the sand dunes, providing a stark contrast to the arid landscape. As you travelled closer to Al-Torniach, the salty breeze from the ocean began to fill the air, as you began to move closer to the coastline.

''Have you ever seen this much water?'' Nafiri asked Samarda.

''Yes, but it was lighter blue and warmer, and you shouldn't drink it.'' answered Samarda. Nafiri, who apparently had never left Almurbah before, looked at the blue water with a mix of wonder and caution. She had only heard stories of the vast ocean that surrounded their desert kingdom, and now she was finally seeing it for herself.

Al-Trionach itself wasn't like the inland cities; its people were paler of skin and salt-stained from the sea air, and their accents were thick with the dialect of sailors.

There was more foreign architecture and ships in the harbour, and the two women looked at it all with curiosity. Simbar, who by now had recovered from his injuries, took the lead in bringing them from the hill, over the fields where dates were growing and goats were grazing, to the walls of the city. He had fallen for the story about Naram being driven mad by treacherous employees. By now, he was half-mad as well, looking into fires for minutes on end.

So much so that Samarda had to sell the surplus camels herself, which delayed your search for the snake cult in this city. Which you left to Nafiri.

To find if there's a snake cult in Al-Trionach, roll a 1d100 [DC75].

Rolled 60 (1d100)

>>6305656
Albino snake

Rolled 89 (1d100)

>>6305656

>>6305656
>By now, he was half-mad as well, looking into fires for minutes on end.
Seems like we need to work on Simbar a bit. A half-sharpened tool loses its edge twice as quick.

Rolled 71 (1d100)

>>6305656
In case it's best of three

There was a snake cult around these parts. Though, as Nafiri reported back, they were of lesser influence compared to the one in Almurbah.

They had agreed to meet with you as faithful visitors; you were always welcome around here. The meeting point was in an old warehouse, just behind the docks, where they stored vinegar; it kept the guards away, so it was said. The meeting was different from the one in Almurbah. There were priests, but they were dressed in simpler robes, which were black instead of a dark green, and they didn't wear any bronze skullcaps. They seemed to lack priestesses, which might be part of the particularities.

Most surprising of all, however, was the man who was chosen to represent them, a large man with a goatee called Obdel, a vinegar salesman. The meeting itself was a tad bit awkward. As the two women weren't really certain what to do or say.

''Shall we present our cult markings? So you might verify our status as-'' Nafiri cut herself off when Obdel raised his hand.

''A kind offer, but I'd rather you not; we abandoned the practice when King Robert II began hunting down all those who are marked in the old tradition; when they started to cut open clothes during searches, we quietly stopped tattooing our members. We prefer to use special pieces of jewellery and etching in coins.'' Nafiri and her companion exchanged a surprised glance; you were surprised as well. Religious orthodoxy has dwindled severely, it would seem.

''Do you even have a temple?'' Samarda asked, for the backroom of the warehouse was rather small, and the guards present seemed more like your regular merchant goons than religious fanatics.

''We do, but it's in the countryside, under a farmhouse owned by one of our members.'' Obdel explained, ''The church has been ruthless in its suppression of anything that doesn't align with their beliefs, so we have to keep a low profile.'' Nafiri nodded in understanding.

''The church of the westerners, you mean?'' Nafiri asked.

''The very same; this land was conquered two and a half centuries ago when crusaders from overseas, worshipping their foreign god, claimed it as their own.'' Obdel replied with a hint of bitterness.

This was unwelcome news for you; while you had been contented to take a backseat for the duration of this visit, you were alarmed now.

In the desert, there were many gods, so you could easily blend in behind the effigies of a thousand and one gods, but if the men of the west had taken to worshipping one god and denying all others, getting your tendrils into Al-Trionach would be difficult.

>>6305701
The cult in Almurbah is in hiding, not struggling to survive, for the authorities there seem to be less interested in pursuing its enemies to the depths, but here, it is a different story: no temples in the city, a vinegar salesman as their head, and inquisitors breathing on their neck.

>This is too embarrassing; these people are a lost cause. You shall take this city from the outside, not the inside.
>This part of the cult is in dire need of reorganisation. Their current leadership is clearly ineffective and unable to protect them from the inquisitors.
>Tell them to stop focusing on the city, and have them go and disperse into the countryside.
>Write-in

>>6305702
>This part of the cult is in dire need of reorganisation. Their current leadership is clearly ineffective and unable to protect them from the inquisitors.

>>6305702
>This part of the cult is in dire need of reorganisation. Their current leadership is clearly ineffective and unable to protect them from the inquisitors.
From the top-down. If this vinegar seller is competent, he may earn a rank. If not, he deserves none. These monotheists are a concern but nothing we can't overcome, in time. As long as their god doesn't notice what we're up to before it's too late.

>>6305702
>>This part of the cult is in dire need of reorganisation. Their current leadership is clearly ineffective and unable to protect them from the inquisitors.

>>6305702
>Tell them to stop focusing on the city, and have them go and disperse into the countryside.

This wouldn't do; the cult was too defensive, too focused on hiding. There is a need for a change in leadership. This vinegar merchant is too indolent, and you would make your presence known to them. So you spoke out aloud, which you were somewhat loath to do; the more people heard you, the more you risked revealing your existence and survival.

"Pray tell, dost thou believe thou art worthy of thy position? Hast thou performed any great deed in my name? An action, or art thou content to remain passive and wither and die?''

The mood in the room shifted; the assembled members of the cult trembled, while Samarda and Nafiri both began to smile. The master had returned to his manor and would put things in order.

Obdel fell to his knees right after jumping from his chair. He began chanting prayers with a quite high speed of the mouth. And a priest stepped in to fill the gap; he had a long nose, sunken eyes, and a surprisingly calm voice. "If I may speak, lord, Obdel here is our interim leader; our previous hierarch was caught and executed by the inquisitors. We're currently in the process of finding a safe location where we might elect a new leader.'' The priest said, coughing after speaking. You sensed he was ill, terminally so, though he didn't know it.

''I see, interim. I suppose that it is better than being scattered to the winds. But I disapprove of the election, though I suppose thou had no better recourse. I would much rather I appoint a new leader myself.''

When our lord wishes to do as such, he may do so; his pick is always more legitimate than any election.'' The priest's eyes flashed with devotion, despite his failing health.

The formal gathering was scheduled in two weeks; Obdel, being a rich merchant, paid for some of the expenses incurred by the caravan, though to avoid suspicion, Samarda declined offers to stay in an inn or hostel. They kept to their camp, where she and Nafiri continued to practise their blood magic in secret, away from prying eyes.

Simbar kept looking into the flames, though Samarda slapped him when she thought he was going to damage his eyesight. She had become more callous in general, going from lovingly spoonfeeding her insane brother to carelessly shoving porridge through a funnel in his mouth.

Naram didn't notice; he did eat but kept mumbling through it before Samarda gagged him again. She looked at him with a mixture of pity, exhaustion and disgust, though the last sentiment was growing by the day.

The two weeks passed by quietly. As the location of the meeting was passed through, it was inland, away from the shores, a two-day ride, somewhere where the gathering of so many camels, litters and horses wouldn't be suspicious. Samarda and Nafiri would travel alone to the meeting, leaving Naram behind with Simbar, who couldn't be trusted either, so one of the purgers was asked to look after both.

>>6305873
They rode for two days, from the density and sprawl of fields and farms to the foothills of the mountain, where they stopped by a villa with an enclosed courtyard, owned by Obdel. Who had disguised the meeting as a meeting of business associates. In the basement, where a small brass idol of a snake held the watch, there would be a gathering. Most were in disbelief that a young woman was the bearer of their lord, but they quieted down once you started to speak.

''I have been informed that thy part of the sect has been suffering from setbacks. I have thus decided that there is a need for recourse, both for thy organisation and for thy leadership. First and foremost, thou shalt acknowledge the high priesthood when it shall be time for it to return.''

"As for the new hierarch, I shall appoint one who is worthy and capable of leading the sect."

You peered through the room, sifting through minds, thoughts and intentions, for you needed someone capable of enacting your will here.

>Obdel, while not a natural fit for the role, will try to tie the cult into the merchant networks, for he primarily fills the coffers of the cult while maintaining a low profile.
>The shepherd, hardy and stern, shall seek to bring the cult out of the city and into the inland, from where he seeks to build up a new society that shall wage war upon the invaders.
>The fanatic shall seek to wage unending war upon the foreign invaders with the usage of suicide attacks and guerrilla tactics.
>The noble, cunning and resourceful, will hide away the cult in a mountain fortress, where he seeks to turn them into an army.
>The priest shall try to hide the cult's intentions behind alms and charitable acts, using the guise of charity to buy the sympathy of the populace.

>>6305875
>The priest shall try to hide the cult's intentions behind alms and charitable acts, using the guise of charity to buy the sympathy of the populace.
This priest isn't just wise enough to intercede, he's able to do it tactfully. He's a born intermediary and will make spreading our cult in the future far easier. I think he's a clear choice.

>>6305875
>The priest shall try to hide the cult's intentions behind alms and charitable acts, using the guise of charity to buy the sympathy of the populace.

>>6305875
>Obdel, while not a natural fit for the role, will try to tie the cult into the merchant networks, for he primarily fills the coffers of the cult while maintaining a low profile.

The Priest is dying from a terminal illness, I don't think electing him will do very well if hes just going to die in a couple years. Just treat this cult as a money maker.

>>6305875
>The priest shall try to hide the cult's intentions behind alms and charitable acts, using the guise of charity to buy the sympathy of the populace.

>>6305875
>>The noble, cunning and resourceful, will hide away the cult in a mountain fortress, where he seeks to turn them into an army.

''The priest and his protégé, for I am of the judgement that thou art not in a state of striking back as of yet, bring the alms to the poor; they shall, by thy listener and cloak, act good and act normally, for if they continue to suppress thee, they shall suppress their own populace. Let the crusader trample over thee, as long as they shall trample over their own subjects as well, earn their trust, and make them your brothers and sisters, for they shall assist you when the day comes for retribution. As will I.''

The priest came forth from the gathered congregation and kissed Samarda's ring in lieu of your own fingers, which were still invisible, incorporeal and formless. This showing of submission formally confirmed him as the new hierarch, and he turned to talk to the rest of his new followers.

''We have fallen on hard times; that much is true, but together we can rise again. Trust in me, as I trust in you; it shall not be easy, nor do I fully expect things to be short; it shall be long, hard and laborious, but we must first gain the support of the common folk before we shall enact our long vengeance. Obdel, you and the rest of our rich friends shall fund our operations, discreetly, and…''

This went on for a while, with all the usual celebrations and congratulations, though Samarda and Nafiri were heading back to camp before the evening was truly late.

There was not much else to do in Al-Trionach, called Trionapli by the crusaders. It was not as big as Almurbah. Dominating the skyline was a massive white keep, raised in the western style, whereon a banner bearing a red lion on a white field was depicted, clutching a sword in one hand and a key in the other.

Entry was, of course, forbidden for simple wanderers of the dunes and plains, and you were weary of the knights that came and went out from the gatehouse. Beneath the shadow of the castle, you had Samarda walk about in the markets; there wasn't much of note – some baubles from the west brought from the sea and vendors selling spices and textiles from distant lands. Some of which were supplied by her family caravan.

Still, you made her stop by the cathedral dedicated to this god of theirs. Their emblem was a bright red burning rose, behind which were two crossed keys. The cathedral was adorned with intricate stained glass windows depicting the legend of the burning rose, adding to the mystique of the place. You forbade entry to Samarda, for looking at that symbol made your eyes hurt if you kept looking at it.

Pain, an experience you hadn't had in the longest time, but you had finished your business here; you had connected with two sects of the snake cult. The next stop, according to Naram's map, was the town of Flueta, less of a city and more of an oversized trading post, where the west and east crossed goods the most.

>>6306148
The route called for a general move along the coast before moving inland and close to the mountain range that separated the arid eastland from their more fertile counterparts.

And so, Samarda, Nafiri Simbar, and Naram (whom Nafiri had offered to throw in the river while the other two weren't looking.) Though you declined, all three of the siblings had some part of your essence within them, and to waste it would be to waste your investment in these three.

And with the easygoing trekking along the coast in Crusader-controlled territory, you had the time and methods to *ahem* ensure the viability of your favoured tools.

>Simbar is teertering on the brink of madness, so you have an easy opening.
>Naram's mind is a mess, a mess I should clean. He can be useful if you can get him under control.
>Samarda is the only sibling who hasn't disappointed you, and as such should be educated further.

>>6306149
>Simbar
Lil pyro

>>6306149
>Simbar is teertering on the brink of madness, so you have an easy opening.

>>6306149
>>Samarda is the only sibling who hasn't disappointed you, and as such should be educated further.

>>6306149
>Samarda is the only sibling who hasn't disappointed you, and as such should be educated further.

>>6306149
>Simbar is teertering on the brink of madness, so you have an easy opening.

Simbar Simbar Simbar, ever the middle child, was not as loyal and capable a tool as Samarda, nor the gibbering wreck of a man that Naram turned into.

You had made him develop an obsession with fire, something he had begun to do in obsessive amounts. After the fell bats cut open his face and body, his mental health had taken an even further decline.

As soon as he had regained consciousness, he had cauterised his wound with fire, which had left even deeper scars on his already mutilated body. The smell of burning flesh began to soothe him, a twisted comfort in the midst of his half-madness.

It was an opening you could easily step into to help him along his path. If Samarda was your bearer and Nafiri your tongue, then perhaps there might be a role for Simbar as well.

As night fell over the camp, which had stopped by a small lake in the arid hills, you entered his dreams once more, lighting up your shadowy form in the guise of a fire spirit.

Simbar's mindscape was one of fire and brimstone; all around him stood the half-burnt or molten faces of himself and his family members. Naram's face had its mouth open, screaming in agony as he melted. Samarda's face was one of gold, shimmering in the flicking flames as this rendition of her coldly watched Simbar plough his way through the flames.

Simbar struggled and trudged on until he fell, and being licked by the flames, he crawled up in a foetal position and quietly sobbed to himself.

Weakness, in its most base form. Disgusting.

You flew over to him, making the flames dissipate as you raised him up by his neck.

"You pathetic insect, had I not told thee that thou shalt forsake weakness, and now you wallow in it?! Filth, you are unworthy of my gifts; I should burn you to a cinder and sow thy ashes upon the fields! " You furiously bellowed in a fiery but heavy voice that reverberated over the landscape.

''Please, my lord, please, I am sorry; it is just that my brother has be-'' Simbar whimpered, tears streaming down his face as he begged for forgiveness. You scoffed at his pitiful display, which made him shut up.

"Dost thou think I care about thy siblings? No, you wish to be strong but remain weak. Your brother failed in this pursuit and paid the price for the weakness of his mind; your sister, on the other hand, has grown contemptuous of thy frailty.''

>>6306149
I'm >>6305879 again. Samarda is, largely speaking, more useful to us but Simbar's descent into madness has been entertaining. Let's see some more of it.
>Simbar is teertering on the brink of madness, so you have an easy opening.
I doubt he has any magical potential but we could be wrong. Regardless, fire is a useful tool. Perhaps we could stoke some of it in him. Of course, there's also the concern that Samarda could come to expect tutelage instead of appreciating it as a gift, which shifting our focus nips in the bud.

>>6306305
Off in the distance, Naram's head made a worthless noise, while Samarda looked on with disdain.

''But you are ashamed, ashamed of your own weakness and of your visage. Your sister may keep her beauty, and thy brother at least looked normal. But thou art misformed, disfigured and cast out from the places thou could previously enter.''

''Please, I could handle the burns, but the scars have made me unwelcome in even the most common of settings. I cannot bear to see the pity and disgust in others' eyes when they look upon me.'' Simbar whispered, his voice barely audible over the crackling fire.

How very touching, unfortunately for him, you didn't care about any of that. Either he would learn to become useful, or he would be cast aside.

>Promise you shall give him a new face, forged in the heat of a forge, to remake him.
>Tell him to man up and stop caring about what others think about him, or else.
>Feign compassion, and tell him how to turn his insecurities into hatred.

>>6306307
I'm an idjit, my apologies AdleQM.

>>6306308
Hmm...
>Promise you shall give him a new face, forged in the heat of a forge, to remake him.
Fusing a metal mask to the man's face could be kickass.

>>6306308
>Promise you shall give him a new face, forged in the heat of a forge, to remake him.

In the olden days, when you walked upon the earth and sand and made all tremble, there was a civilisation upon the savannah. Populated by men of darker skin than these people, its kings would sacrifice their eyes to gain sorcerous power, whereafter they would wear not a crown but a mask of gold, with two massive rubies for eyes that glinted in the sunlight. The people of this ancient civilisation believed that by sacrificing their sight, they could see into the spirit world and communicate with powerful deities to protect their land.

You proved them different when you unleashed hordes of orcs, men and other creatures upon their kingdom, destroying everything in their path and showing them that their sacrifices were in vain. The savannah became deserted once more, as the survivors fled into the highlands and jungle.

It might not be an exact copy of this tradition, but you could arrange for something similar for poor old Simbar, to fuse his face with a metal mask so that none may peer at the deformed visage beneath. And you told him as much.

''We can mend thee, if thou so wishest, to forge thee anew, with a new face,'' you offered, knowing that he would most certainly accept.

"I wish to be mended, please. I don't wish to walk among the cities with a headwrap around my head. Please, fire spirit, if you can, do as you promise.''

"It shall need time, for a suitable forge is not easily found." You replied.

''I am willing to travel to make that happen, for I desire to be whole once more.'' With newfound determination in his eyes, Simbar agreed to your offer.

You left Simbar's mind with satisfaction but also disgruntlement, for now you had to find a suitable forge for you to work on; you were a master craftsman, but that didn't mean a thing if you couldn't interact with the physical world, and you needed a very specific kind of forge, and considering you will be travelling close to the mountains, a dwarven forge shall be the closest opportunity; it will be a slight detour from Flueta and Araq, but it will hopefully be worth it.

Because Simbar had effectively stopped caring about leading the caravan, and Naram was well, Naram, you could easily have Samarda redirect the caravan, which was slowly hybridising into a wandering band of fanatics thanks to Nafiri's preaching. To sreach the land for a Dwarven hold, preferably an abandoned one.

Roll a 1d100 [DC65]. To find a dwarven hold, abandoned or inhabited.

Rolled 39 (1d100)

>>6306322

Rolled 24 (1d100)

>>6306322
Seven rings for the dwarves

Rolled 95 (1d100)

>>6306322
Mwahahahaha

It would take fifteen days, fifteen days of hard trekking through the mountainous passing, where you carefully instructed Samarda on the whereabouts of any bandits or goblins that you might encounter.

There was a time when the dwarves had a hold in every mountain chain of note, when they could carve the underworld and dig greedily and deeply. They were already in decline when you came around the first time, and you made certain to 'accidentally' leave behind goblins, who would infest the mountains, the holds and the caverns, thus making a return unlikely.

Now, as you journey through these same mountains with Samarda, you can't help but feel a sense of glee as the abandoned visage of yore comes into view, beaten, broken and dead. The only dwarf remaining is the one made of stone, for the goblins hated to go out in sunlight, and the stone guardian was too heavy to simply demolish.

The front gates were empty, as they would be with most floor levels; nobody was there. No, but you could see that they were still here, eagerly awaiting trespassers to eat. Orcs, also called goblins, might have been your main source of labour once, but you found them to be expendable and cowardly when things went wrong.

They weren't in the hold proper but had long since retreated into the caverns below, once the mines, now the 'home' of those creatures. You quickly made certain that they wouldn't come for you, for though they are of a low moral character themselves, they above all else fear evil, and it was an exploitable fact you wished to use.

On occasion there would be a glimmer in the dark, something that would unsettle the party searching for a forge, but you knew damn well they wouldn't dare do anything while your presence was lurking above them. The shadow in this place was strong, and it allowed you to project an aura of menace to the goblins.

That is not to say that there weren't challenges; part of the tunnels had collapsed, and debris from defaced statues and other obstacles made the journey difficult. However, your calculated manipulation of their fear ultimately led to the party finding the forge.

>>6306355

"So your brother believes he can gain a new face; does he intend to forge one? Is he even a smith, Samarda?'' Nafiri asked as she made certain the torch wasn't going out.

''He isn't, and that is what worries me.'' Samarda whispered back.

Simbar, who eagerly pushed open the door as he came into the forge halls, which had remained remarkably intact, here and there crude goblin weapons lay upon the anvils, which themselves remained pristine, the blast furnace and bellows still in working order, etched with arcane runes. Simbar marveled at the sight, realizing the potential power that lay within the forge. He turned to Nafiri and Samarda, a glint of maddness in his eyes as he declared,

"We must harness this forge's magic for our own purposes." And he eagerly began jumping upon the bellows, causing the flames to roar to life and the runes to glow with an otherworldly light. Nafiri and Samarda exchanged worried glances, unsure of what Simbar's actions were planning.

You did know, and though Simbar was an imbecile when it came to smithing, you were a virtuoso with the craft, something only a select few came close to achieving.

There was, of course, the question of how exactly you would go about smithing. Telekinesis would be safe but was cruder than attempting to manifest your hands into this world, though if you failed, the aura would collapse, and the goblins would most certainly come.

>Keep it safe; use telekinesis (safe, but will prevent you from making a more 'radical' solution).
>Try to concentrate your essesne, and bring your hands come forth. (Will lead to a roll).

>>6306358
>Keep it safe; use telekinesis (safe, but will prevent you from making a more 'radical' solution).
Safety

>>6306358
>Try to concentrate your essesne, and bring your hands come forth. (Will lead to a roll).
Are we not divine? This is as good an excuse to stretch our limbs as we'll get anytime soon.

>>6306364
I changed my mind. I'm a dice addict.
>Try to concentrate your essence, and bring your hands come forth. (Will lead to a roll).

Righty-ho, roll a 1d100, [DC55] for you to manifest your hands.

Rolled 56 (1d100)

>>6306410
I've got an EVIL feeling about this...

>>6306414
Dagnabbit, I should've known.

>>6306414
Drums in the deep...

Rolled 90 (1d100)

>>6306410
they come

Rolled 35 (1d100)

>>6306358
Is it goblins?

Rolled 56 (1d100)

>>6306410

You would have need of your digits; telekinesis wouldn't be able to give you the fine motor control necessary for this task. And besides, it has been too long since you have wrought with your own hands, but first, you should instruct your underlings.

"Tell them to throw those crude goblin weapons into the forge, for we have need of the metal." You whispered to Simbar, who was jumping up and down the bellow like a man possessed.

The Dwarven forge didn't require fuel, at least not in the traditional sense of the word. The runes etched into the walls of the forge itself provided all the heat necessary for metalworking, a feat of ancient Dwarven engineering that would be of great use to you.

But first, you required your hand to be brought forth; you poured whatever essence you had, concentrating it into making yourself new hands made of raw dark energy, but something went wrong, for as you concentrated, the aura that kept the goblins away collapsed.

And they sensed it as well, and they sensed the presence of a new meal within the forge, and their guttural laughter began to fill the tunnel underneath. They were coming, weapons drawn and wardrums banging; they were coming.

Reacting quickly, you poured your dark power into the aura to re-establish your menacing presence, and like a barking dog before lightning, the filthy creatures slinked back into the Underdark.

-3 DP

That was a close one; you weren't ready to bring them to heel, not yet. But it had taken you extrta effort to scare them away once more. And you dind like it.

But as the molten metal poured from the forge, you knew that you needed to begin work. Your appendage picked up the hammer. You had no need for moulds or casts; your hands would shape the metal as easily as if it were clay. Mortal men might have lost their fingers or sustained burns, but you were no mere mortal. Your skills were unmatched in the art of smithing, and with each strike of the hammer, you felt a sense of creative pleasure, the same you had when you forged your weapon and armour so long ago.

Simbar would better be grateful for the artwork you were making for him, for it was a masterpiece in the making. As the metal began to take shape under your skilled hands, you knew that this creation would be a gift worthy of a king.

You currently have 12/15 DP

But speaking of that, how far were you going to go with it?

>A simple mask of steel, with an opening for the mouth, eyes and nose.
>Create a magical mask, to be fused to his face, granting him an intimidating gaze that can inspire fear. -2 DP
>You shall not merely create a mask, but a set of armour, for him to wear, enhancing his toughness and strength. -4 DP
>You had enough of Simbar's uselessness and weakness; you shall burn him to a crisp, but keep him alive, so you may lock him within an armour of black metal. He shall be a voiceless, nameless hulk, with barely enough autonomy to look after his master's bearer. -8 DP

>>6306615
>You shall not merely create a mask, but a set of armour, for him to wear, enhancing his toughness and strength. -4 DP
We'll forge a proper enforcer from this charred wretch!

>>6306615
>You shall not merely create a mask, but a set of armour, for him to wear, enhancing his toughness and strength. -4 DP
very own darth vader

>>6306615
>You shall not merely create a mask, but a set of armour, for him to wear, enhancing his toughness and strength. -4 DP


Ancient evil, connected to a corrupting piece of jewelry and a master smith? Where did I hear that before?

>>6306615
>>You had enough of Simbar's uselessness and weakness; you shall burn him to a crisp, but keep him alive, so you may lock him within an armour of black metal. He shall be a voiceless, nameless hulk, with barely enough autonomy to look after his master's bearer. -8 DP

>>6306615
>You had enough of Simbar's uselessness and weakness; you shall burn him to a crisp, but keep him alive, so you may lock him within an armour of black metal. He shall be a voiceless, nameless hulk, with barely enough autonomy to look after his master's bearer. -8 DP

>>6306615
>You shall not merely create a mask, but a set of armour, for him to wear, enhancing his toughness and strength. -4 DP

ARISE LORD VADER

Clink! The hammer falls down with a great force. The sound reverberates through the forge hall, making lesser men tremble under the force of your labour.

This steel was crude, weak, brittle, and imperfect due to the poor craftsmanship of the goblins who inhabit this place, but you shall remould it, refine it, and perfect it . True steel, as pure as it can be, from the depths of the earth. With each strike, you feel the metal yielding to your skill.

You are far beyond the need for ordinary pliers or tongs; you can hold the metal parts that shall form Simbar's dread armour with your own hands. The heat doesn't harm you, nor can you hold the raw power of creation that flows through you as you shape the steel into something magnificent.

You spend minutes, nay, hours upon the creation of the armour that would turn the disappointment that was Simbar Al-Mariniz into a warrior of dread and terror, for if Samarda was your bearer and Nafiri your tongue, then you would shape Simbar to be your armoured fist. Your most loyal enforcer would be a force to be reckoned with, striking fear into the hearts of all who dared to cross you. With each strike of the hammer and twist of the metal, you could feel the power and control growing within you, for mastery of metal always did give you pleasure.

You were no hedonist, no, but creating with metal was the closest thing to a hobby you had; metal was your favourite medium for expressing your dominance and strength. Strong yet mouldable, lifeless yet able to take on any form you desired.

The sound of clanging metal and the sight of your creations taking shape brought a sense of satisfaction unlike anything else in your life. The forge was your sanctuary, where you could channel your inner fire and mould it into something tangible and formidable.

Aside from forging the armour, you made certain to etch into the armour the runes of old, which would not merely protect but also enhance the wearer's strength, endurance, and agility, on the inside of the armour, with you also installing a failsafe in case Simbar would dare to defy you.

The armour would also extend his lifespan; for as long as he wore it in full, he would still need to eat, but as the years would come and go, he would grow dependent upon the armour; it would feed off him, and he would sustain himself on it.

''Come hither, O Simbar, for thy armour is ready at last.''

>>6306724
Simbar positively jumped at the opportunity. You had advised Samarda and Nafiri to not say anything, for you did not wish for them to interfere in this matter.

You helped him, using telekinesis to strap on the sabatons and greaves. Simbar marvelled at the intricate design of the armour, feeling a surge of power as he put it on. The weight felt almost comforting, as if it was a part of him now, and a part of him it would become.

As he put on the helmet, he collapsed on the floor before arising with maniacal laughter.

"I am reborn! Nevermore shall the world see my face unless I wish for it!'' He half-madly proclaimed.

You performed one last act, one last thing, before the strain of manifesting your hand would become too much to bear. You handed him a new weapon, something no ordinary man could handle for its weight, but he now could, for he now stood two metres twenty high. A massive metal warrior upon whom you bestowed.

>A massive mace
>A dual-bladed axe
>A great flail
>A Claymore
>A warhammer

Would you like to test him?
>No, have him escort the party out of the hold.
>Order him to slaughter the goblins for your entertainment.
>Retract your aura of protection; put him to the t

>>6306725
>A warhammer
>Retract your aura of protection; put him to the test

>>6306725
>A warhammer
Only the mace is more oppressive. It's a fittingly humble weapon.
>Retract your aura of protection; put him to the test
If he was worth the investment, he can prove it now.

>>6306772
This is >>6306621 again. I don't know why my IP changes so frequently.

>>6306725
>A great flail

With the heads shaped like snake heads or something thematic ig

>Retract your aura of protection; put him to the test

>>6306725
>A massive mace
>Order him to slaughter the goblins for your entertainment.
master shredder?

>>6306725
>>A massive mace
>Retract your aura of protection; put him to the test

Rolled 1 (1d2)

1: Warhammer
2: Mace

It was a relatively simple weapon, brute in its manner and great in its impact, as blunt as a raw block of metal, upon which you have woven spells of malice and hate. The warhammer was wrought in its entirety from steel, with a few token decorative elements, but it would prove devastatingly effective in the right hands.

As is custom, the front is blunt, designed to crush bones and armour with each swing, while the back end features a sharp spike for piercing through any defences. The weight of the warhammer was balanced perfectly, allowing for powerful strikes without sacrificing speed or accuracy.

You telekinetically floated the weapon before Simbar, who took it with both hands; mad excitement came from behind his helmed visage.

''Take this weapon, O Simbar; thou shalt be my armoured fist, here to cleanse the world of my enemies, who are manifold. Use this hammer to strike down all those who oppose me, for you are now my champion in battle," you declared with unwavering confidence. Simbar's eyes gleamed with determination as he raised the warhammer high, ready to fulfil his newfound role as your fierce warrior.

As you faded out of existence once more, you cacklingly retracted the aura that kept the goblins away. But not before whispering something into the ears of your servants three.

"There are goblins coming, many in number and strong in malice. Prepare yourselves, for the battle ahead will be fierce.'' It was only fair you inform them of the threat ahead.

Goblins were by nature cowardly creatures, but they always gained in confidence when they were in large numbers. And so it was here; their war chants had remained in the distance for now, but they were growing ever closer and closer.

Ush-gragh…Ush-gragh.

The party began moving almost immediately, racing down the tunnels away from the the forgehall, past the great corridor and over an old bridge.

Ush-gragh-arsch-ur! Ush-gragh-arsch-ur!

They were gaining upon them now, and openly; their horrid visages with the crooked ears, sand-coloured skin and jagged teeth were visible in the flickering torchlight. Their cruel laughter already began to fill the corridors as Simbar formed the rear guard.

>>6307082
As they reached the antechamber before leaving the old hold. Their dread warcry once more filled the air. USH-GRAGH-ARGSH-UR!

And so you watch with glee as the armour-clad madman went on a rampage, splitting skulls with his warhammer as though they were cherries, using the spike on the back of the hammer to impale his enemies with brutal efficiency. The echoes of battle cries and clashing metal reverberated through the ancient stone walls, a symphony of violence that was music to your and Simbar's ears.

''KILL! Come forth, you filth! My hammer hasn't tasted enough of your blood!'' Simbar's eyes gleamed with bloodlust as he jumped into the fray, eager to partake in the carnage. The enemies stood no chance against the armoured berserker. As Nafiri, Samarda and the other guards formed formation, he kept the goblins away, who were in headlong retreat before long, their morale shattered by the black knight you had created.

They reached the entrance hall, where the goblins didn't dare to go, for the sunlight was most painful for them, but that didn't mean there wasn't a challenge.

As Simbar led his party to the entrance door, a great, guttural voice called out. Oi!

A hulking specimen of the orc/goblin species, eyes filled with low, cruel cunning, and with a spiked mace in hand, his armour was crude but thick, and a crown of pig iron rested upon his bald head. He alone dared step forth into the sunlight, as he called to Simbar.

''Humie, you and your pals have trespassed upon my turf and stolen my steel. I demand wergild; your entire pouch of gold and half your camels will do the trick. Otherwise, my boys here will have some fun with you lot.'' A guttural bout of laughter came from the chieftain. But Simbar was undeterred. He himself proclaimed as much.

''I have slaughtered enough of your ilk by now, and I would truly inaugurate my hammer by smashing your skull in first.'' The chieftain's smile faded as Simbar stepped forth, armour-clad and hammer in both hands.

Roll a 1d100 [DC65] Bo3

Rolled 63 (1d100)

>>6307083

Rolled 100 (1d100)

>>6307083

Rolled 99 (1d100)

>>6307083
Forth, instrument!

>>6307102
>100
Heh, here's to hoping crits apply.

>>6307104
Quite the contrary, my dear Anon, this is lower the better system.

Good thing you shaved up on that dark power.

Simbar and the goblin chieftain moved to strike each other, their brute weapons clashing against each other, Simbar's warhammer blocking his mace. The goblin chieftain's eyes narrowed in determination as he pushed forward, his strength matching Simbar's.

Simbar brought his hammer overhead to crush the goblin's head, but he ducked, slamming the hammer into the floor, cracking up the ancient tiling the dwarves once had made upon their entry hall. The sound of the impact echoed through the chamber, causing dust and debris to fall from the ceiling.

The chief took advantage of the opening, swinging his mace down upon Simbar's left hip, but he managed to dislodge the hammer in time. They briefly circled each other, both of them looking for an opening or any sign of weakness that might be exploited.

Samarda, Nafiri, the others and the lower goblins remained spectators, enthralled by the spectacle of seeing the two metal brutes clash.

With another swing, Simbar knocked the brittle iron crown off the goblin's head, which broke upon hitting the floor. The goblin chieftain noticed and let out a furious howl.

''Oh, now you've done it, humie. I will have your head upon a spike!''

With great fury, the goblin began a fell assault upon Simbar, who dodged, parried and countered, but he was beginning to lose ground against the relentless onslaught. The crowd gasped as the goblin chieftain's strikes grew more ferocious, pushing Simbar to his limits.

Eventually, even with his enhanced strength and endurance, it wasn't enough; the mace hit him in the kneecap. He fell onto his other knee; the goblin chieftain discarded his own weapon, laying his one hand upon Simbar's shoulder to keep him there as he raised his other hand, a wicked grin on his face. Simbar's heart raced as he braced himself for what was to come next.

"Hahaha, ya know, I haven't tasted manflesh for the longest time, and yours seems to be relatively tender." He said with sadistic glee as he tried to worm his fingers through the eyeslit, the nails cutting the flesh under the eye. Simbar hadn't reacted with rational words; he had only exclaimed pained screams as his demise seemed imminent.

What a failure you are. I gift you a weapon and armour, but you do not possess the strength to wield it. Wretch.

Your patience with Simbar's repeated failures was reaching its breaking point. Of the three, it was only Samarda who had proven of any use, and perhaps you have had enough.

You currently have 8/15 Dark Power

>Enough of this, I shall contact the Goblin directly, and he shall fall in line. [-2DP]
>If I must, I shall give Simbar renewed vitality. [-3DP]
>I have had enough; my bearer is near the exit. I shall crush them both with a rock. [-4DP]
>The steel is strong, the flesh is weak. I have had enough of thee, Simbar; I shall strip away thy flesh and bones forevermore. [-4DP]
>Franky, I don't care; if Samarda wishes to save her brother, let her.

>>6307108
Oh no, I was excited to see the ramifications of the critfail, kek.

>>6307121
Simbar has failed us repeatedly.
>The steel is strong, the flesh is weak. I have had enough of thee, Simbar; I shall strip away thy flesh and bones forevermore. [-4DP]
Maybe we can embed his soul in the armour? Then fill it with molten steel later.

>>6307121

>The steel is strong, the flesh is weak. I have had enough of thee, Simbar; I shall strip away thy flesh and bones forevermore. [-4DP]

Simbar has had enough chances

>>6307121
>>The steel is strong, the flesh is weak. I have had enough of thee, Simbar; I shall strip away thy flesh and bones forevermore. [-4DP]

>>6307121
>The steel is strong, the flesh is weak. I have had enough of thee, Simbar; I shall strip away thy flesh and bones forevermore. [-4DP]

In hindsight Samarda really was the best choice. This fucking guy man.

Honestly this just makes it funnier that the backflip girl is the only one capable of anything lmao. Good on her tho

>>6307121
>The steel is strong, the flesh is weak. I have had enough of thee, Simbar; I shall strip away thy flesh and bones forevermore. [-4DP]

"You've failed me for the last time Simbar...Again."
Simbar is our Starscream. That nat100 critfail to get dunked on by a goblin chieftain, this fuckin guy. Frankly I don't think even turning him full metal will stop him from jobbing, but its really funny so I say keep his soul in there.

Samarda really is the best. Dreamscape seal the deal.

>>6307162
Then that 99 afterwards was just kicking the guy when he was down. Simbar is unintentionally funny.

>>6307121
>The steel is strong, the flesh is weak. I have had enough of thee, Simbar; I shall strip away thy flesh and bones forevermore. [-4DP]

Not surprised this is happening. I thought Simbar was going to be our pyromancer, but somehow he became the berserker instead of his brother. Just get rid of him and give his armor to Naam. Then we can just take control of him whenever something needs a good beating.

>The steel is strong, the flesh is weak. I have had enough of thee, Simbar; I shall strip away thy flesh and bones forevermore. [-4DP]

>>6307121
>The steel is strong, the flesh is weak. I have had enough of thee, Simbar; I shall strip away thy flesh and bones forevermore. [-4DP]

You have truly had enough; he consistently failed you time after time again and again. You gave him the means to obtain power, and like the fool he is, he managed to lose against a goblin warlord.

Part of you wished he would die then and there, but you had invested enough into the man that you were loath to do so, so like a good investor, you decided to retract your assets from him once and for all; his body and soul were forfeit, and you would collect them both.

You heard his pathetic pleas for help on the surface of his thoughts. ''Master, please help me… I failed, but I can''

Enough! I have had enough of thee and thy bumbling manners; thy sister alone has proven to be worthy of my attention. You, on the other hand , are nothing but a disappointment. I shall take what is rightfully mine and leave you forevermore, my thrall – nay, less than a thrall.'' you declared coldly, cutting off his pleas with finality. With a swift and calculated motion, you began the process of eviscerating not merely his flesh but his marrow and bones as well.

"ARRGGHH!!!" You set alight dark flames that soon covered his entire body; as you lifted him up from the ground, the fire began to glow from each part of the armour, bursting forth from gauntlet, greave and visor.

The goblin chieftain had already made his retreat back to the depths of his dank caverns, where he would seethe about this defeat, though he left with two fingers permanently blackened.

Inside the armour, you were burning and boiling Simbar alive; you unleashed your wrath in full. The dark lord shan't brook failure. Armour and arms are but tools; in the hands of those who are worthy, they can do great things, but he wasn't worthy, so it was the man who was at fault.

"My lord, please, have mercy. How was I?"

>>6307383
"I WILL NOT HEAR OF IT!" You bellowed with a fury resurfaced. "You are nothing but a failure. You aren't worthy of my gifts, nor are you worthy of the body you inhabit; thus, I condemn you now to an eternity of labour. You shall slaughter thousands, but you shall take no pleasure. None shall hear your pleas nor your suffering. You shall be an automaton, bound to my will. No more shall the name Simbar be heard by any upon this world."

You made another motion, and like a mask revealing a face, you revealed yourself from behind your fire-spirit guise, which made Simbar shriek in terror.

''Silence! Thou art now nothing; thou may not speak any longer. Thy soul shall power this armour in place of thy body. That shall be thy dooming, to serve me forever.''

No words came back; the spirit was broken, and so you shoved his soul, preparing to leave for the afterworld, back into the collapsed armour, where the enchantments would keep it.

Samarda had returned to overlook her former brother's armour, so she yelped as the armour began to resemble itself. No longer constrained by Simbar's natural height, the armour optimised the positioning of the plates as it moved to retrieve its warhammer.

''Simbar?'' She called out.

''Simbar is no more, child. I have killed him. Let this be a warning to you. I forbid thee from ever speaking his name again.'' A few months ago, she would have defied you and screamed out in anger at your treatment of her brothers, but by now, you had a most formidable hold over her soul. She did not defy you, meekly accepting your decision as though it were law.

Perhaps you should do as such and give him a new name to denote his new status.

>No. 1, to denote his servitude.
>Mortharn, the black helmet
> Thangdring, the tyrannical hammer.
>Write-in

>>6307384
Alas, poor Simbar, we barely knew you.
>Thangdring, the tyrannical hammer.
No. 1 is a bit too impersonal, and Mortharn's too imperial for what he's become. Thangdring, on the other hand, has a nice ring to it.

>>6307384
>Mortharn, the black helmet
Who next to put in the suit?

>>6307384
>>No. 1, to denote his servitude.

>>6307384
>Mortharn, the black helmet

''Arise, Mortharn, let the failures of the past be swept away. Thy old name shall be forgotten; let thy new moniker become the byword for terror and fear. Be born anew, as my black knight.''

The armour was empty, though from the inside it was burning hot. It made no attempt to answer you, for it went on its knees as quickly as it could, quietly swearing renewed allegiance to its lord, before rising just as quickly.

Gone was the typical swagger with which Simbar used to carry himself; the nonchalant and cocky cadence was replaced by a pacing that was nearly mechanical in its manner. The armour quickly placed the warhammer upon its shoulder, marching out of the hold as though it was part of a leaving army.

Samadra and the others followed behind, though the metal hulk was undistracted by any of this, bluntly walking up into the middle of camp, placing down its warhammer, and overlooking the camp.

"The perfect guardian." So you explained to Samarda and Nafiri. "He shall not rest, not speak, not eat, not drink, nor shall he need to defecate or other such base instincts, unbothered by either heat or cold." The two red bulbs were once Simbar's eyes, which stared out in front of them but did not acknowledge their presence. Like a statue, he stood, uncaring for the world outside.

Samarda slowly walked over to the metal giant, the automaton that had once been her brother, and ever so gently touched the breastplate, though no reaction came. Nafiri stood back, watching in silence as Samarda tried to connect with the being that used to be her sibling.

''Excuse me, Nafiri, I wish to be alone.'' And she slumped off to her tent, quietly closing the flap behind her. You ordered Nafiri to take on the night watch with Mortharn, for you sensed Sarmada was touching the necklace.

>>6307577
Within the tent itself, Samarda was sitting with her head in her hands, at a loss for what to do.

''One brother a madman, the other a piece of armour, and I am left to pick up the pieces,'' she muttered to herself. She leaned back, looking out into the room with tired eyes.

"I have told thee before that I punished thy brothers for their defiance and incompetence; after all, only thou, and thou alone, hast proven worthy of my blessings." You softly said as Samarda fed the casket with the two snakes.

''Forgive me, serpent god, but I have lost all my brothers now as well as my parents; I only have you, the caravan, and Nafiri, your priestess, to help me. The caravan now falls to me, and though I remain faithful to your plan to reunite the snake cult, this journey has brought me many grievances.''

>Thou should not worry, for I have chosen thee for a reason. Thy brothers were failures; think about how much you can do without them.
>I can understand, truly, but you still have your family in faith; ask Nafiri for guidance if I am not available. She shall give you a better understanding of the faith.
>Have I not told thee before that the desert belongs to the strong and clever? I would recommend thy remains clever and strong, unlike thy brothers.
>Write-in

>>6307578
>I can understand, truly, but you still have your family in faith; ask Nafiri for guidance if I am not available. She shall give you a better understanding of the faith.

She is wanting to be comforted, I think. We are…I’ll suited for that? This is probably the best angle to take.

The current state of her brothers is threat enough on its own, we don’t really need to rub it in.

>>6307578
Hmm... Samarda is a young woman going through personal doubts, and we are an ancient evil that's sunk so far into darkness and isolation we're no longer, practically speaking, human. While we could influence her, she wants to be comforted and reassured and we really aren't the person to manage that.
>I can understand, truly, but you still have your family in faith; ask Nafiri for guidance if I am not available. She shall give you a better understanding of the faith.
Nafiri is a skilled serpent cultist and was chosen by us for a reason. I'm (>>6307389, if my IP's changed) starting to like Samarda and would prefer not to suppress her free will, if we can help it.

>>6307578
>I can understand, truly, but you still have your family in faith; ask Nafiri for guidance if I am not available. She shall give you a better understanding of the faith.

>>6307578
>>Have I not told thee before that the desert belongs to the strong and clever? I would recommend thy remains clever and strong, unlike thy brothers.

>>6307578
>I can understand, truly, but you still have your family in faith; ask Nafiri for guidance if I am not available. She shall give you a better understanding of the faith.

''I can understand, truly, but you still have your family in faith; ask Nafiri for guidance if I am not available. She shall give you a better understanding of the faith.''

Samarda had been inducted into the snake cult, and she did worship your guise, but her grasp of the tenets the religion espoused was lacking a bit. Nafiri, a proper priestess of the cult, would be better positioned to guide her in such matters.

She accepted your advice most willingly and began attending the preachings held by Nafiri more and more regularly.

One problem that had been getting worse since the starting of the preaching and the subsequent purge was the gradual degeneration of the merchant caravan. They weren't completely off their knockers just yet, but the porters, guides and guards that remained started acting more and more like a band of fanatics, and while you could keep them from openly marauding as of yet, their tendency to ritually scar or brand themselves with the mark of the cult would mean they would be more easily spotted and exposed if they didn't properly cover themselves up.

Nevertheless, it was out of the mountains, or at least this part of them, before you would set off for the land of Araq, to the city of Flueta, the great tent camp upon the face of the world, as it was advertised.

The passes and mountains wound on for a long while longer. There had been a few incidents, here and there, small goblins and bandit bands, but Mortharn proved more than superior in that regard. The metal man could by now swing the warhammer in one hand if need be, and with neither flesh nor bones, he was more or less impervious to whatever attacks those creatures could muster. As they approached the city of Flueta, the caravan started to descend from the mountains. Taking a turn west, then east, further east still before turning west once more.

This was a land with a Mediterranean-like climate, and the air was filled with the scent of citrus and olive trees. The journey had been long and would be longer still, for Flueta would be, but a stop on a longer journey back east.

>>6307889
That was, of course, if you could get there first, for while the city had been sighted in the distance, and the hills rolled on most smoothly, a small band of knights and their retainers were approaching the caravan. As you tried to peer in closer, you realised why Flueta was under siege, something that must have begun while you were in the mountains, by the looks of it, for the city seemed relatively undamaged for the time being.

Their lead knight came on in with his helmet removed, his plate armour proudly polished, and his beard neatly groomed. ''Cállate muchachos. Les informaré.'' He told his knights before turning to Samarda and clearing his throat.

"I am sorry, dama, by order of his majesty, King Rodrigo VI, the city of Flueta is under siege; all roads to and from the east are closed. It would be best of you to be on your way.''

This was unwelcome news; the marketplace of east and west was closed off to the caravan, disastrous for business, and for you who wished to gain the measure of at least some of the men of the west.

>Tell Samarda to continue on further east.
>Ask for permission to sell to the army camp.
>Continue on to Flueta regardless.

>>6307891
Soldiers in a siege emplacement? There are few more desperate markets. With the monotheistic trend, there are some risks but I'm fairly confident in our capacity for subterfuge.
>Ask for permission to sell to the army camp.
This way, we'll be able to make a profit and, while we're selling our wares, get the rundown on the whys and wheres of the ongoing conflict. Of course, the newly converted fanatics are conspicuous, but they'd hardly be snake cultists if they couldn't keep in their trousers long enough for their prophetess to do some business.

>>6307891
>Ask for permission to sell to the army camp.

>>6307891
>Ask for permission to sell to the army camp

This seems pretty safe. If nothing else we could probably use the money.

>>6307891
>Ask for permission to sell to the army camp.

>>6307891
>Ask for permission to sell to the army camp.

''Well, kind sir, I would ask permission of you to sell to the army camp; we have a surplus in foodstuffs and.'' Samarda was cut off by the rampacious laughter of the knight.

"I am afraid you will have to forgive me, senorita, but the orders of the King of Almarja are clear; the roads are closed, none may leave or enter, and only those of the true faith may be allowed to conduct trade with the army camp, preferably with our own kin. As you are from the east and therefore almost certainly not of the true faith, the road shall remain blocked to you.''

The knight now took on a more serious tone, though he quickly shifted a bit in his saddle before nonchalantly opening his hand.

"But there are always exceptions to be made, with the right incentives, obviously." Samarda simply sighed and emptied about a quarter of her coin purse into the knight's outstretched hand. "I trust this will be sufficient to allow me passage," she said, trying to hide her frustration at the situation. The knight's expression softened slightly as he pocketed the coins, nodding in agreement.

''Si, now if you will excuse me, me and my comrades have to continue our patrol. So long!'' And the horses kicked off, and they left behind the caravan.

''Dishonest swindler.'' You overheard Samarda mutter. Before getting the caravan back on the road.

While the caravan continued on to the siege camp surrounding Flueta, you took the time to dissect and dismantle the language of these Almarjeans, a quaint little tongue, with some affections borrowed from the language of Samarda's people, though it most definitely had other influences, and its structure was different.

Where it would take most years, you could understand a language in under an hour. And it would do you much good, it would seem, for the caravan was ordered to make camp outside of even the army camp. Barred from entering the camp proper without permission and escort, and they would have to permit the preaching of their clergy if they wished to proselytise to the caravan, something that didn't sit well with you, Nafriti or Samarda. But you would only remain here for about a week, so at least the chance that someone might slip up is lessened.

For the first two days, nothing much of note happened; the quartermaster's agents practically plundered the excess supplies the caravan had brought with them, paying handsomely. On the third day, nothing of note happened. Near the end of the fourth day, some drunken soldiers tried to enter the camp but were arrested by the provosts, who issued a prompt apology. It was on the fifth day that trouble reared its head, in a most unexpected form.

>>6308249
A young cleric, adorned in white robes decorated with simple embroidery of roses, entered the camp, halted in the middle, and, in a heavy accent, began preaching about the goddess Arnemirel. The Rose Dame, as she was also called, was the sole goddess of men beyond the mountains, so you heard from his preaching. She was the hero-goddess, a red-haired maiden with armour richly decorated in roses and other floral motifs.

The caravaneers initially ignored him, the fool's whining falling on deaf ears as they went about their business. But as the hours passed, more and more of them began to look at the man with increased annoyance. You had kept Mortharn around, both to make certain you could book a quick escape if things soured with the Almarjeans and to make certain that your devotees wouldn't kill this man prematurely.

Still, the new snake god followers weren't as used to hiding in plain sight like Nafiri was, and if you didn't reign them in, there would surely be bloodshed.

Roll a 1d100, Bo3 [DC55] To see if the caravan can keep their cool.

Rolled 77 (1d100)

>>6308250

Rolled 69 (1d100)

>>6308250

Rolled 30 (1d100)

>>6308250
snake oil salesman

Rolled 18 (1d100)

>>6308250

The mood in the camp was becoming more and more riotous by the second; the unwelcome missionary was clearly agitating the caravaneers. They were beginning to gather, quietly clutching their weapons.

''Get out! We don't want your presence here,'' one of them shouted, his voice rising above the murmurs of the crowd. The missionary, sensing the growing hostility, slowly walked away; thankfully, he broke for it before the men had time to throw rocks at him.

The missionary returned an hour later, bringing in tow two knights in green cloaks with golden crosses and a higher-ranking clergyman, here to demand answers, no doubt.

Quickly, you ordered Samarda and Nafiri to move to apologise and explain, to keep them out of the camp, avoiding any potential conflict with the newcomers. The missionaries stood their ground, ready to defend their presence, though Nafiri deftly defused the situation by explaining that the caravan had been through a lot as of recently and had bad experiences with preachers.

While the priests turned out to be more trusting, the knights were less impressed; they gave Samarda a formal notice of eviction. Samarda accepted the notice gracefully, promising to comply with their decision. Though on the inside, both of them were stewing, you had been feeding both their pride and deceit, though in this case deceit won out over price. They had until tomorrow to break camp.

This was of course unwelcome news, but with the profit made, you could easily leave without any problems, unless, of course, you really wished to peer inside.

>Order them to move on; I have had enough.
>Order Samarda to put on the dark blue robes; we shall infiltrate the camp and maybe the city.

>>6308433
>>Order them to move on; I have had enough.

>>6308433
>Order them to move on; I have had enough.
Best to let their guard down, for the time being. There are yet more snake cults to beckon, yet more bygone power to wrest from this misbegotten age.

>>6308433
>Order Samarda to put on the dark blue robes; we shall infiltrate the camp and maybe the city.

>>6308433
>Order them to move on; I have had enough.

>>6308433
>Order Samarda to put on the dark blue robes; we shall infiltrate the camp and maybe the city.

That was enough of that; with all those goody church members watching, you would rather fancy yourself not to be discovered prematurely. This church of Arnemirel would be perhaps your greatest priority, but not as of now; you wished to continue on with the originally planned route of the caravan, which would carry you now to the northern parts of the great desert, the very periphery of what was called the great lake of Hayra. Another great trading hub in between the men of the west and Samarda's own people, the Kharodarians.

The roads there would be relatively safe, as the republics that made up the trading cities around the lake collaborated on matters of collective security. This Hayrian league wasn't like the emirates, sultanates, and other petty kingdoms that littered the deserts, drylands, and mountains of Kharodaria, but a union of independent city-states working together for mutual benefit.

The road there would be long, turning east into the great desert and dune seas to follow on through to the greatest oasis of them all.

Nevertheless, Samarda, Nafiri, Morthran and, to a much lesser extent, Naram followed on through with the new route, leaving behind the semi-humid plains of Flueta and Araq and going back deep into the desert.

It was the same name as it was when you were found; the desert would challenge them in the traditional manner, with scorching heat in the day and cold nights, desert bandits, and who knew what else lay beneath the sands. Were they at one point still a merchant caravan? By now they had been turned into an impromptu army; their lack of cargo made them less juicy targets for the roaming desert raiders, and while you subtly kept them from indulging their brutality whenever the civilisation drew nigh, you were more than willing to indulge their savagery out in the wilds. The results spoke for themselves: the weak were culled by attrition and combat; the strong would become stronger.

The desert was an excellent training ground. The harshness and threats from the outside would make them into proper warriors in due time. As you went further east, you began hugging the foot of the mountain range once more, though the desert wasn't far out of sight.

As you continued on, you continued to teach Samarda and Nafiri the basics about blood magic and how to subvert the natural order, they themselves having no innate talent for magic.

>>6308710
Blood offerings, both from slain enemies and on occasion scoured from Naram, the human vegetable, would be necessary to fuel their spells and strengthen their abilities. Indeed, you were teaching them about the usage of blood in the reconnaissance of the land. Magic uncovers that which remains hidden and lies beyond even your second sight, mighty though it may be; even you couldn't look over the horizon.

But the scrying had its desired effect, as the blood began to draw and retract itself in response to their commands, and it revealed:

>A lone castle, hidden in crag and mountain, the seat of a bandit chief.
>A gruesome cave, where the demons who escaped their prison now lurked.
>An ancient barrow, long since forgotten and sulking with carrion

>>6308712
>An ancient barrow, long since forgotten and sulking with carrion
Ancient to the mortals, perhaps. For us it might as well be contemporary! A bit of nostalgia on this convoluted trek.

>>6308712
>An ancient barrow, long since forgotten and sulking with carrion

>>6308712
>An ancient barrow, long since forgotten and sulking with carrion

It was a barrow like many others you had seen in your time; in times of old, before even you first rose to power, they were there, and though you were much, much older than some iterations of that particular civilisation, the pharaohs had proven both useful underlings and painful adversaries.

There were no pyramids here, nor anything else of great note. If you remembered correctly, that great lake Samarda was talking about didn't exist in your time. No, it would seem the rivers had changed course, and the desert took that land long ago. But the barrows remained, silent witnesses of a forgotten era, their secrets buried deep within the earth.

There was no life within, unlike most tombs, where the local wildlife or bandits made their homes inside structures they didn't understand. All within was dead, even the few corpses that were quite clumsily disposed of in a corner.

You knew well enough who did this; the khopesh upon the table closest to Mortharn might have been ceremonial, but there would be more practical variants in the hands of the carrion who yet guarded this place.

While it was too small for a pharaoh or nobleman, it was clear that whoever was entombed here held some importance in their society. The air was heavy with the dust and age, the walls carved over with hieroglyphs. Here and there, an oil lamp flickered dimly, casting eerie shadows on the ancient stone. The silence of the tomb was broken only by the sound of the party's footsteps. The ancients believed that to maintain your status in the afterlife, you should maintain your tomb in this world. These lamps were usually kept burning by whatever slave had been ritually sacrificed.

>>6308790
But the people inside here were no true mummies, at least not in the traditional sense, for they weren't sentient in any way or form, only waking to protect their tomb and going back to sleep when the threat had passed.

''This place gives me the creeps.'' Nafiri whispered. Snake priestess she might be, but tomb raider perhaps not.

''You should get out more, city girl.'' Samarda teasingly whispered back, a blatant lie if you ever heard one, but it isn't like Nafiri knows Samarda is from a rather large town.

"Up yours, sandmulcher." Nafiri retorted with a smirk, trying to hide her unease as they continued deeper into the tomb. The air grew colder, and the shadows seemed to dance around them, causing Nafiri to grip her staff tighter in anticipation of what lay ahead.

They didn't sense them, but they were hiding now, waiting for them to split up, eyeless carrion awaiting them when they would start to split among the corridors and strike from the darkness.

Nafiri was uneasy, but that was natural, you supposed; this isn't her usual line of work, while it is second nature for Samarda. For now, they had come to a halt, planning their next move.

You have 15/15 Dark Power.

Would you like to use it?

>Try to bind the carrion to my will; my necromancy is getting rather rusty. (-5DP)
>Use fire magic to burn up the corpses, eliminating them as a threat. (-4DP)
>Use umbramancy to cloak Samarda in supernatural stealth, allowing her to sneak past. (-4DP)
>Reach out into the minds of the party, and bless them with battle meditation for the coming fight. (-2DP)
>No, if there is any threat, I shall dispatch Mortharn.

>>6308792
>Try to bind the carrion to my will; my necromancy is getting rather rusty. (-5DP)
It has been millennia with precious little to divert us from our predicament. Or has it been longer? We ought to search for a calendar sometime, but that's beside the point. We're not here on business, why not stretch tired old muscles? Could always use a few corpses for a distraction regardless.

>>6308792
>>Use umbramancy to cloak Samarda in supernatural stealth, allowing her to sneak past. (-4DP)

>>6308792
>Try to bind the carrion to my will; my necromancy is getting rather rusty. (-5DP)

>>6308792
>Try to bind the carrion to my will; my necromancy is getting rather rusty. (-5DP)

>>6308792
>Try to bind the carrion to my will; my necromancy is getting rather rusty. (-5DP)

>>6308792
>>Try to bind the carrion to my will; my necromancy is getting rather rusty. (-5DP)

It was beginning; even in your current impotent form, your power was slowly returning to you, and with it would come your power. Though you currently were but a literal shadow of your former self, only able to influence events indirectly, you were beginning to regain a more substantial form of power. The enthralment of the caravan and of Samarda and Mortharn in particular had given you enough power; the rituals you had taught Samarda and Nafiri had subtly fed you as well.

Your summoning of the fell bats was but a small thing compared to what you would do now; you had merely warned the bats, you hadn't made them submit to you, but these cadavers weren't of their own will; their tomb's enchantments animated them, so you merely needed to override the tomb.

While they were planning, you began to weave a dark incantation that would allow you to control the undead creatures with ease. The temperature in the tomb dropped significantly as the dark energy of your spell, though unseeable with the naked eye, sent shivers down the collective spines, save for Mortharn, who didn't have a spine.

"Come, ye carrion, come forth and serve your new master," you commanded, your voice echoing through the tomb with an otherworldly power. Ordinarily, you were only heard when you spoke to Samarda or Nafiri, but now all the people assembled heard your most dreadful voice, and lesser men squirmed, even more so when the undead creatures slowly began to rise, their lifeless eyes fixed on you in obedience as you took control of their cursed existence. With a flick of your wrist, you directed them to do your bidding, creaking their embalmed bones and forcing them to undo the wrappings. Mummies they might have been buried as, but their faces would be uncovered, so their gaunt, undead visage might bring terror to all who beheld them. The crowd gasped in horror as the undead assembled together in the central hall, though none attacked the party proper.

''The master must have awakened them with his magic.'' Nafiri whispered as the undead creatures stood at attention, awaiting further commands. The assembled party stood frozen in part fear, part awe. While you had done some magical things for them, this was the first time you so blatantly flexed your magical prowess for a larger crowd.

Still, it was a victory for you; you still got it! Even after all these years. As the undead creatures remained motionless, the party slowly regained their composure, and while the most loyal of your followers stayed put, there were some who quietly moved to the exit.

>Have the undead slaughter the cowards.
>Have the undead slaughter the entire caravan, save for your four 'investments'.
>Make the undead shadow the caravan as extra protection.
>Dissolve them; they might be powerful, but they won't be welcome in civilisation.

>>6309041
>Have the undead slaughter the cowards.
Blood

>>6309041
>>Have the undead slaughter the cowards.

>>6309041
>Have the undead slaughter the cowards

Oh ye of little faith

In lockstep, the undead warband marched after the wayward cowards; they were not worthy of being your followers after all, it would seem. You do not brook weakness, nor cowardice for that matter.

While they were slow, they did catch up with those you had wished dead, mercilessly hacking their weapon into the flesh of the fleeing cowards. The sound of their screams only fuelled the undead's determination to carry out your orders without hesitation.

Before locking up into formation once more and marching at your tune, like a mass of puppets on strings, they might not have much in terms of initiative, but the undead were always good line-holders, unbreakable, and immune to morale even in the direst of circumstances.

Samarda sighed. ''I suppose I will have to sell even more of the camels; if this continues, we won't have much of a caravan left.'' You would normally admonish her, but you were in a good mood; the undead could just as easily serve as substitute labour if the situation called for it.

Thankfully, Nafiri did your work for you. "Our master's designs are his own; if he wishes to slaughter the unworthy, we must let him do so, even if he does it through the undead."

Samarda offered no response, simply rolling her eyes; at any rate, they soon left the temple once more and got back on the road.

The embalming of the raised corpses, combined with their advanced age, made them smell less foul than what the porters had expected; they would act as the guardians within the desert, making certain that none tried to rob the caravan as it made its way through the treacherous terrain.

The undead, though unsettling to many within the caravan, proved to be an effective deterrent against potential threats, though you took extra care to ensure there were no witnesses, not around here at least. If word got out too soon, you might be prematurely exposed, jeopardising your plans. So as the desert began to wane once more in favour of the yellow-green vegetation that grew around the great lake of Harya, you quietly buried them and put them in hibernation so you might retrieve them more easily.

>>6309185
The undead were carefully hidden beneath the sand, their presence known only to you and a select few. As the caravan continued on its journey, you saw for the first time this great lake, which might be better described as an inland sea, for you couldn't peer past the horizon, where the merchant ships came and went. The sight of the bustling port city on the shores of the lake filled you with a sense of anticipation; there would surely be a snake cult hidden among the labyrinthine streets and dark alleys, awaiting their master's return.

It was a great surprise to see that they were practising in the open, their temple a grand structure adorned with serpentine motifs, standing proudly in the centre of the city. The locals seemed unfazed by their presence, going about their daily lives as if the cult were just another part of the city.

Immediately, you more or less had Samarda and Nafiri bolt over there to inspect with your own eyes *what* was the cause of such openness, though you soon enough saw why: the fat priest, with his booming voice, leading the cult in their chants and rituals, while preaching about the need to pray for safe travel across the desert and how the great serpent would protect those who showed devotion. But it was clear that it wasn't like the other snake cults; there was no hidden malevolence, no awaiting your return. No, these had washed their hands of the old ways and seemed content to simply worship their serpent god in peace, without any ulterior motives or dark intentions. This wouldn't do, not at all; something would need to be done.

>Try to arrange for a private meeting with the high priest.
>This priest is weak; I should find a more suitable replacement in the flock.
>I will not have anything to do with this; I shall destroy when I have my armies and b

>>6309186
Hmm... the local snake cult has abandoned the malevolence that we'd prefer BUT is successful enough to have a huge temple and corresponding congregation. On top of that, they're still worshipping us.

>Try to arrange for a private meeting with the high priest.

Let's see if we can correct this misunderstanding, or better yet, leverage it to gain even more traction.

>>6309186
>Try to arrange for a private meeting with the high priest.

Heresy bad, but Mayhaps we can change his mind…or bend it

>>6309186
>Try to arrange for a private meeting with the high priest.
Snake Snake Snake

>>6309186
>This priest is weak; I should find a more suitable replacement in the flock.

Trying to arrange for a meeting with the high priest was more difficult than previously thought; both Samarda and Nafiri were rebuffed for their efforts. Still in their desert clothing, it was quite obvious that they wouldn't allow random nomads into the higher parts of the temple, where the high priest resided. The guards near the stairwell were firm in their stance, refusing to budge even after Samarda and Nafiri explained their urgent need to speak with the high priest. It seemed that gaining access to the inner sanctum would require a different approach altogether.

But seeing how open the snake cult operated, being open in their way and manner and blatantly flaunting their snake jewels and other symbols, Samarda and Nafiri would obviously need to be as blatant in their dress as well. They returned to the camp, unrobed from their desert garb, and stepped into the light green of the Almurbah snake cult, with golden jewels adorning their bodies and snake symbols prominently displayed. It was a risky move, but none seemed to bat an eye as they proudly paraded into the temple once more.

This time, the guards were more than willing to let them into the inner sanctum, where they were welcomed by the local priest with open arms, for they saw in them two pilgrims, and they were more than eager to hear news and stories from the outside world. The priest led them to a sacred chamber where they were offered food and drink, eager to learn of their travels and experiences beyond the desert.

The high priest wasn't present, for he was away on business, though when he returned, he invited the two into his private quarters to hear from them about their journeys. He was fat and indolent. His corpulent form complements his avaricious eyes, while listening to their tales with a bowl of dates in hand, eager to satisfy his gluttonous appetite while indulging in the tales of adventure and discovery from the two travellers.

>>6309450
''We are curious, high priest; have you heard? Our master is returning, and he wishes to bring back the faithful to the fold.'' the two travellers began, their voices filled with excitement and anticipation. The high priest's eyes widened in surprise, his greedy gaze momentarily distracted from the bowl of dates as he listened intently to their news.

''How very quaint, but I am not interested in your own interpretation of the faith; our lord hasn't returned in centuries, why would he choose now?'' he replied dismissively, his mind already drifting back to the feast laid out before him.

"Because he has," Nafiri replied fiercely, "He has reawakened, and his presence is felt by those who are faithful to the fold." Nafiri's words made the high priest wipe some of the date juice from his chin, a flicker of doubt crossing his face before he quickly composed himself and chuckled. "I suppose we shall see," he said, reaching for another date.

>''No, you will not;'' speak to him directly.
>You will strangle him here and now.
>Time to pry open his mind; you have had enough.
>Leave; this man is a disgrace.

>>6309451
>>You will strangle him here and now.

>>6309451
>Time to pry open his mind; you have had enough.
The most straightforward path. Of course he has doubts, we expected he would! Had he been swayed from convictions without proof solely because he was told so, I'd have bene disgusted.

>>6309450
>Time to pry open his mind; you have had enough.

>>6309451
>Time to pry open his mind; you have had enough.

Oh ye of little faith, hath the prosperity of thy surroundings made you decadent? Nay, you care more for the food and wealth than you do for thy devotion. I shall pry thy mind open.

As you began to form yourself once more, the temperature began to drop in the room; the high priest, once sweating profusely, suddenly stopped. A chill ran down his spine as he nervously looked around him; the lights were still on, and out here it should be naturally warm.

The room fell silent; you peered down as your spirit moved away from Samarda and towards the high priest. It was for the first time that you then saw your own reflection in his terrified eyes.

Though you yet remain incorporeal and invisible, your power was felt by all. Nafiri watched with barely contained glee, while Samarda remained stoically silent.

''G-guards.'' The high priest softly whimpered, but you quickly took the breath away from him to say more.

''And pray tell, priest, cynicism doesn't suit one of thy profession, yet thou seemst to revel in it. There is much in this world that I don't tolerate, and apostasy is one such thing.''

As he began convulsing upon the floor, you began to reach into his mind, deeper and deeper, but this man seemed to have a stronger mental barrier than you anticipated.

Roll 1d100 [DC45] to pry open his mind.

>>6309451
>Time to pry open his mind; you have had enough

Rolled 14 (1d100)

>>6309583
Gonna be so cringe if we beef this

Rolled 71 (1d100)

>>6309583
Easily done.

Rolled 99 (1d100)

>>6309583
ANCIENT SPIRITS OF EVIL COME FORTH

>>6309603
FUCK

You pull yourself in deeper and deeper, flashing past his past and present as you worm your way through his mind. Unlike your devotees, Bountou, as he was called, was a scion of the local nobility, raised in wealth and power of the likes Samarda, a former street urchin, and Nafiri, an orphan until she was taken in by the cult, could ever imagine.

No, Bountou's upbringing was one of privilege and luxury; his ascension into the priesthood was more a political appointment than a religious calling. Consequently, he indulged himself in drink, food, and women without a second thought, his lavish lifestyle fuelled by the wealth of his family and the influence of his position.

You pressed on further trying to enthrall him for your own cause, you wouldn't have the man lead aynthing, but his influence and wealth would make this sect of the snake cult a good lender of coin.

However, beneath his facade of opulence and power, Bountou harboured a deep sense of insecurity and fear of losing his status. You exploited this further, flooding him with memories of his brothers, who humiliated him and constantly reminded him of his shortcomings.

But in the end, Bountou was damaged, not broken; while he had been cowed, he wouldn't easily relinquish control. But perhaps that would be enough; autonomous underlings with a semblance of competence are rare to come by.

>Pull out, you shall make a deal with him, and his loyalty shall be assured.
>Drive him insane, allowing you to con the cult into appointing a more malleable leader.
>Kill him; you have had enough.

>>6309613
>Pull out, you shall make a deal with him, and his loyalty shall be assured.
A money lender and influence broker branch of the Cult is just fine and it doesn't even have to hide.

>>6309613
>Pull out, you shall make a deal with him, and his loyalty shall be assured.
An adequate priest, good enough to handle the task.

>>6309613
>Pull out, you shall make a deal with him, and his loyalty shall be assured.

>>6309613
>Pull out, you shall make a deal with him, and his loyalty shall be assured.

Rise, fool, and make yourself useful

>>6309613
>>Pull out, you shall make a deal with him, and his loyalty shall be assured.
Join! Or! Die! JOIN! DIE!

>>6309613
>Pull out, you shall make a deal with him, and his loyalty shall be assured.

>>6309613
>Pull out, you shall make a deal with him, and his loyalty shall be assured.

The pathetic fat man lies before you on the floor, whimpering and begging. Though you didn't break him completely, he most certainly has been cowed and neutered, terrified of you and your bearer and favoured priestess.

"Please, please, lord, I-I." He began.

"Enough, Bountou, though I might disapprove of thy hedonism, thy coffers are full, are they not? Most of thy brethren have been driven off the streets and into the underground. Yet thou art in the open, and thou hast been blessed to flourish in this city. Remember, my power is not to be trifled with, and I can easily take away all that you hold dear.'' Your words strike fear into his heart.

"But I have no need to punish thee yet, as thy fortunes are vast; thus, for the common good, I shall leave thee in charge yet, to continue on with thy advancing of our common interests. When the time comes, and if thou remainest true, I shall reward thee; if not, we shall see."

''But of course, lord, but of course, is there anything you might wish for?'' High priest Bountou asked.

You had some things in mind, though you didn't need to eat, sleep or breathe like mortals did. Your two chosen did, thus there was something you could demand from him.

''I require an imprest; thy gold will come in handy for the road yet untrodden. A few pounds of it shall be enough.'' Bountou nodded, understanding the request. Upon leaving his private quarters, he had an attendant bring up a few small bags filled with gold from the temple treasury.

"This is enough wealth to buy you a palace in the upper city, if you so desire, my lord." You weren't certain whether his definition of a few bags differed from yours or whether he was trying to impress you with his generosity. Either way, you graciously accepted the gold, though it perhaps was a bit too much for the journey ahead, so you decided to tell Nafiri and Samarda to buy up goods and provisions, as well as extra baubles and whatever they might need for the road.

This proved to be a mistake, as the two women splurged the allowance you had given them on a variety of items: new daggers, clothes, shoes, headwraps, some spears and swords for the guards with some light armour, as well as luxurious fabrics and jewellery for themselves. You didn't care; there was enough money in the camp, and you never used money in your time.

>>6309937
Still, Samarda did make one extra purchase in the form of a slave girl from the steppes, whom she had purchased to feed Naram, she herself having been fed up with caring for him. It was no concern to you, so you thought; the slave would free up more of Samarda's time, so it was whatever. You had been left rather bored during the whole shopping session, and you were glad when it was all over.

What would come next was quite simple: the caravan would trek along the lake of Hayra, move across the last bit of desert, and move into what was formerly known as the domain of the silver tower, informally as Minatyr. A crusader state created to ward off the demons that still stalked the world after a failed invasion.

The first few days were with much happening; the lake was kept safe by the league who governed it. You had them keep quiet for this part of the journey, and you would most certainly have to do the same when you would come to Minatyr.

With the lake behind you and the desert ahead, you left civilisation behind once more as you ventured into the warm and unforgiving sands of the desert. It was cooler here up north, the cold winds blowing in from the northern steppes, providing some relief from the scorching sun during the day. The vast expanse of sand stretched out before you, with only the occasional oasis offering respite from the harsh conditions.

But there was opportunity to be had as well; with no prying eyes, you could openly your evils without fear of judgement or consequence. The desert was a place where secrets could be buried deep beneath the shifting sands, allowing you to pursue your plans without restraint.

>You should prod around with Naram more to see if there's something salvageable.
>You shall further educate Nafiri and Samarda in the dark ways.
>It is time to begin drilling this caravan into a warband.
>You shall look around for more hidden places.

>>6309938
>>You shall further educate Nafiri and Samarda in the dark ways.

>>6309938
>You should prod around with Naram more to see if there's something salvageable.

>>6309938
>You shall further educate Nafiri and Samarda in the dark ways.

Lord Vader can wait

>>6309938
>>You should prod around with Naram more to see if there's something salvageable.
Samarda would probably be happy if we can put this dude back together into something.

>>6309938
>You should prod around with Naram more to see if there's something salvageable.
As tempting as deepening their knack for magic is, the more time Naram spends as an invalid, the less time he'll spend furthering our ambitions. Who knows? There could be a master orator or assassin buried in there.

There was not much left of the man once known as Naram, mentally, that is; in body he was now long since neglected, his hair and beard having grown to lengths that were unmanageable. His eyes, once bright and full of life, were now dull and vacant, a mere shell of the man he used to be. His once strong frame was now frail and hunched over, his face prematurely aged.

By now, most of his family had abandoned him; Samarda had more or less given her responsibilities to Zarin, the slave girl she had bought to take care of him; Simbar, for all intents and purposes, was dead, reforged into the steel monster known as Mortharn, which now silently kept your creed enforced.

But that doesn't mean the last of the three is of any less use to you; Naram might be a whimpering mess, not even capable of eating his own meals, but you suppose you might as well see if there is something salvageable within his mind. The old caravan master would probably have some valuable information or insights buried deep within his broken psyche if you could just find a way to reach it.

And so you entered his mind in the same way as you had broken him initially, delving into the depths of his memories and experiences, searching for any glimmer of knowledge that could aid you in your quest. The twisted labyrinth of Naram's mind proved a surreal but at the same time dull hellscape. Distorted faces, twisted memories, grievous shrieks and haunting whispers filled the void as you navigated through the chaos, all in a wonderful grey colour.

You brushed all of this aside as you came closer and closer to the centre of the mind, where a shrivelled, starving, man lay naked upon the floor, his hair and nails overgrown, his eyes vacant and hollow.

He on occasion made noises, but they were unintelligible, for his mind had been shattered beyond repair by the horrors you had poured in. The man's body twitched sporadically, a result of the torment he endured within his own mind.

He didn't pay you any attention; on occasion a nursery rhyme reverberated through the mind, which was then followed up by more murmuring.

Naram's mind was shattered but not completely ground to dust; like a craftsman picking together a broken vase, you would try to piece together the fragments of his shattered psyche in your own image, of course. A new servant, in a blank state, is preferable. And so you reached out and began to chant.

Roll a 1d100 [DC60] To see if you can heal at least part of his mind.

Rolled 28 (1d100)

>>6310073

Rolled 87 (1d100)

>>6310073

>>6310073
Witness me get a nat 1

Rolled 87 (1d100)

>>6310105

As you begin to piece together the pieces of Naram's mind, you begin to find that a good chunk of the remains of his psyche are beyond repair. There is a core, the slightest in essence, that remains intact amidst the chaos and destruction.

It is, unfortunately, quite difficult to mend that which was broken, and by the time you are finished, there is no more naked man, but a man restrained, mumbling to himself in somewhat comprehensible language, which came apparent when you left your mind and returned to your resting place around Samarda's neck.

The man's eyes hold a glimmer of recognition, but it is not much, whereas previously he would only murmur gibberish. He could now begin to form semi-coherent, though not always understandable, sentences.

''Shadow…falls…across land, all hope lost.'' These were the words he repeated as his attendant fed him his food.

He murmured out more about the snake strangling his sister's neck, his brother a slave to metal, sham religions, and impending doom. You had Samarda gag whenever it wasn't food or drink time, for you knew damn well what would happen if they stopped and listened to what he had to say.

The road continued on once more as you left the desert and went into the great grasslands, where the sky seemed to stretch endlessly above. It wasn't the steppe yet, but if you moved further north, it would most certainly be so.

Though the open terrain was soon broken up by the hilly formation known as the Demon Hills, here and there scattered castles stood guard against a wasteland that came out of the mountains.

Minatyr itself was a great settlement, with dark stone walls that protruded heavily against the horizon, a stark contrast to the vast expanse of greenery that surrounded it. The town bustled with activity, traders coming and going, guards patrolling, and the distant sound of blacksmiths hammering away at their craft. It is the beating heart of the crusade against the remaining demon hordes.

The caravan here would sell some of its excess metals and arms, as well as food, but you were here for other matters entirely. Ancient towers like this, filled to the brim with ancient knights and other lorekeepers, would be your best chance both to learn more about this world and to scour the vaults below for forbidden knowledge which might be gained, which might give unto you the means to return in proper.

Though this time they were allowed to camp inside the city walls, the outside being too dangerous. It would take some time for your minions to get some measure of this city, but they would be able to blend in, for this was quite the multinational city, so none batted an eye at the desert caravan so far from the desert.

What would you like Samarda to do?

>Visit the public library; you wish to know more about this age.
>Find and scout out if there are any sewers and catacombs.
>Send her out to gather information on the city's political landscape and key figures.
>write-in

>>6310127
>Send her out to gather information on the city's political landscape and key figures.
Best to find out the movers and shakers, so as best to topple them.

>>6310127
>Find and scout out if there are any sewers and catacombs.

Sanke bad with mind control?

>>6310127
>Find and scout out if there are any sewers and catacombs.

To hell with paying rent

>>6310127
>>Visit the public library; you wish to know more about this age.
lore time

>>6310127
>Visit the public library; you wish to know more about this age.

Rolled 2 (1d2)

The sewers:1

The library: 2

The All Saints Holy Library for the betterment of the general education of the public was a large building with big arched windows, raised from the same basalt stone that encapsulated the city in the form of its walls.

You had ordered Samarda to bring you there, for you wished to know more about the what and why after you had been gone for so long, and as you approached the library, the intricate carvings on the stone facade became more apparent, laying upon a large welcoming courtyard that led to the grand entrance. In the centre of which stood a large equestrian statue of a historical figure, surrounded by lush greenery.

Upon the plinth was engraved the following words: L'empereur Rollon IV a fait don de cette statue en mémoire des campagnes de son arrière-arrière-grand-père Richard II contre les démons.

The emperor Rollo IV donated this statue in memory of the campaigns of his great-great-grandfather Richard II against the demons.

The statue itself was of a bearded monarch, his sword raised proudly in the air. His horse trampling some winged wretch or the other – you didn't care; you weren't there for that.

You did sense Samarda's confusion at all of this; she didn't speak the language, nor did she know the script in which the books were written, so you gifted her the knowledge of these tongues, for you had taken them as your own as soon as you had heard them.

As she approached the entrance hall, she moved past the old statue of Richard II, towards the open door flanked by two guards. She was, however, suddenly approached by a monk with a collection-box.

''Care to spare a coin? Miss, it is for the asylum,'' he asked politely. Samarda reached into her pocket and absentmindedly dropped a few coins into the box.

''What kind of asylum, if I may ask?'' she inquired, more to pass the time than out of genuiine interest.

''An asylum for the once possessed and the mentally ill; the demons on occasion tend to possess one or the other, and though the exorcism expels them, there can be severe damage, enough that such persons are a danger to themselves and to others, so we take care of them instead.'' The monk said, before moving on to other potential donors in the busy marketplace. Samarda nodded, feeling a mixture of curiosity and unease at the monk's explanation. She briefly considered dumping Naram there, but you suppressed such thoughts for now; you could always dispose of him later if he truly was a lost cause.

>>6310453
Moving past the entrance hall, you moved her through the library to find out more about the world as it was. When you were first defeated, it was the 2593rd of the Fifth Age, King's reckoning. Who the king was who had created this system you didn't remember. It was thus a big surprise to you to see that the official calendar had been reset. Even worse, they had broken with the age system. The new calendar started with the coming of the Wlandeans, a barbarian people who migrated south after dragons drove them from their homes, adopted local customs, and became some of the most feared knights upon the continent. The Wlandeans had established a new empire, the founding of which was apparently so profound they kept it as their year zero.

Nevertheless, you did find a book from before that time, so you hoped to find something, anything about yourself, or at least your realm.

>Sreach for books of general history
>Screach for demon history
>Try to find your own history

>>6310454
>Sreach for books of general history

Well, it’s clearly been a fucking long time skip since we got KO’d, so in all honesty it’s probably better to update our general knowledge of the world first

>>6310454
>>Sreach for books of general history

>>6310454
>Search for books of general history

Nothing suspicious

History, history, history – though you didn't care for it when you came to conquer and subjugate the continent during your first rise, it most certainly would continue after you were defeated.

Yet you were frustrated in your efforts by, in your eyes, the nonsensical modern calendar system, it now being the 724th year since the founding of the Wlandean Empire out west; thus, you should start with them. The tale began under a barbarian headman named Rolf and his son, also named Rolf, who were forced to flee hearth and home to escape the dragon's ire, or so the story goes.

They went south, into lands that had been greatly depopulated, and mixed there with the local population. The father and son duo managed to defeat both an invasion of the east and several rebellions against their rule, culminating in Rolf the younger, or Rollon as he from then on became known, being coronated as the greatest king of all, a king among kings, or emperor. His line was blessed by the heptarchy of Arnemirel as their bulwark upon the earth, to lead the other nations against the unfaithful and stand watch over the west. Rollon's descendants continued to expand their empire, conquering new lands and spreading their influence far and wide. The legacy of Rollon the Great lived on for generations, until the present day, so the book told you, as Emperor Walaran was entering his tenth year of rule, in unbroken line with his ancestors.

This was all well and good, but it didn't tell you about everything. You wished to know more about the circumstances concerning your defeat, and there most certainly weren't any Wlandeans involved.

In the week that followed, you, or rather Samarda, turned page after page for you to read; each and every one of them told the history of a people or realm that had begun long after you were first defeated. No, what made it worse was that some calendars were different, which made keeping track of what happened where harder than it should be and frustratingly elusive.

And that left you with no other recourse; you would need to have Samarda ask about if there were any elven records about matters. Their longevity would mean their account would be more reliable, though the question remained whether such a record existed within the halls of this library at all. Elves kept their knowledge safe, and what did end up outside their realms was incomplete. Thus, you had Samarda search high and low for anything in the history section that might have been written by an elf.

Roll a 1d100 to see whether such a record exists [DC 65].



0 Success = If such a record exists, Samarda can't find it.
1 Success = It exists, but it is within the archives, and you don't have permission.
2 Success = It is open to the public, but large parts are damaged and unusable.
3 Success = You're in luck, a rare piece, relatively intact.

Rolled 55 (1d100)

>>6310547
I dont suppose that maybe we could steal some paper slips that would grant us entry deeper inside

Rolled 84 (1d100)

>>6310547

Rolled 91 (1d100)

>>6310547