Fuck it, just eat the conspirators. And those three that rebuffed you, if you can get them at the same time. They can't alert anyone if they're dead!
Convert the Duke, then his advisors, then everyone else. If there's any 'pure' people still left have them sacrificed to you as an inaugural thing. Then you can finally leave this damned (in both senses) castle!
Oh, the merc captain. I suggest we name him ... Malkus Rom. He shall be our future warlord of darkness and stuff once we decide to go a-conquering.
+1
Maybe we should light a few forest fires as we leave, just to let off some stress/steam. In any case, let's head back to Fellshore so that we can investigate that lake.
+1
With the plan with mercenaries failing badly, Order 5 cultists from New Nuulyd and 5 cultists from Fellshore Some cultists from somewhere to volunteer in the army
The conspirators panicked once they realised the doors were locked. They banged on the aged oak, but no one heard (or no one cared), and the doors stood impervious. Gathering together in the center of the room, they did the only thing left to them and began to pray. But not even prayer could save them now; they could only watch as the torches on the walls started to produce improbably large quantities of smoke, quickly filling the room. It moved as if with purpose, surrounding them, leaving them huddled in a smoke-free circle.
Strange shapes appeared in the haze, lurking just out of sight, in the corner of their eyes. They heard the sound of knives scraping against the stone, the growling of unseen beasts, the sinister laughter of their tormentor. Then suddenly an impossibly long finger whipped out of the smoke, curling around one of the knights, who struggled helplessly against it before being dragged into the smoke. They stared in shock in where moments before the man had been standing, before his agonised screams filled the air, continuing unabated for minutes before finally, mercifully ending. As they were processing this, another finger appeared, grabbing another survivor by the ankle, pulling him forcefully from the clutches of his terrified friends.
Again came the screaming, and this proved the last straw; rather than waiting there and getting picked off one by one, they dashed into the smoke, hoping to find a door and somehow escape. But where were the doors? Surely they were in this direction? Surely we passed that upturned chair earlier? Surely there were more of us a second ago? As they stumbled blindly through the smoke, people disappeared, there one moment, gone the next. The only hint as to their fate was the sound of something chewing and the cracking of bones.
Eventually, somehow, they found a wall, and followed it for far longer than should have been possible, passing the same section of wall multiple times, but here too they eventually- whittled down to a mere five survivors- they found a door, miraculously unlocked. They burst out of the room, thick black clouds billowing out into the corridor. A passing pair of courtiers screamed, and ran off to warn others of the fire that must surely be causing the smoke. The survivors stumbled after them, running down the corridor with the smoke following them.
Then suddenly someone stepped out in front of them; a fellow courtier. They shouted at him to run, but he merely stood there, grinning. It was then that they noticed the knife in his hands, and realisation dawned. They quickly turned to run the other way, but not before the man stabbed one of them in the neck, laughing delightedly as a fountain of blood sprayed across his face.
Eventually they reached another door, and hurtled through it, then locked it, in the hopes that it might hold their pursuers at bay for a minute. As indistinct shapes slammed against the door, they stacked crates up until they could reach the narrow window set high in the wall. Built to let in a modicum of light and air, not let out a fleeing person, one of them nevertheless managed to squeeze through it before the door burst open and smoke instantly filled the room. The now sole survivor was faced with the problem of being on the second floor, yet managed to find footholds in the castle's crumbling walls, and slowly started to descend, even as her companions' screams echoed through her ears.
Miraculously, she managed to reach the ground- where she was met by a hooded figure. "Help me!", she said, "They're after me! The smoke, it's after me!"
"I KNOW", responded the figure.
Your cultists did a reasonable job cleaning up the mess you left behind. A small fire in the conspirator's meeting room explained the smoke, and the bloodstains dismissed as probably nothing. The disappearance of over a dozen members of court, including the Duke's steward, may have proved more difficult to explain, but the court seemed too interested in preparing for the next party to care, dismissing the missing people as being 'no fun anyway'.
Mischa appreciated the gift of a few of the uneaten corpses to use as imp food & test subjects.
Meanwhile, in the present. :/
The Duke visits you for his regular dream-consultation hour. He comes in with two buxom courtiers hanging on his arms, his breath itself a potent alcoholic beverage. He dismisses the courtiers with a kiss each, then turns to you in a jolly mood, and tells you that he hasn't really been having that much trouble with nightmares, lately. In fact things have been pretty good all round, he says.
"Is that so", you reply, "and to whom do you owe this good time? To the church?"- the Duke shakes his head-"To your prince?"- the Duke shakes his head-"To your own efforts?"- the Duke hesitates for a moment before shaking his head.
"No", you say, "You owe it to
ME"The Duke sobers up somewhat as your voice changes, a chill going down his spine.
"WHO SUGGESTED YOU RAISE THE TAXES THAT PAY FOR YOUR EXTRAVAGANCE?"The Duke sits back in his chair, terrified.
"ME. WHO MADE YOUR COURTIERS SO MUCH MORE FESTIVE?"The Duke, sensing a theme, points a hesitant finger in your direction.
"ME. WHO SPOKE TO YOUR WIFE IN HER DREAMS, MAKING HER SO ATTENTIVE TO YOUR PRIMAL NEEDS?"The Duke cowers in fear as your disguise slowly dissipates, horns growing from your head, your back twisting unnaturally as the bones rearrange themselves, and the tips of your wings break through the skin.
"ME. WHO KNOWS YOUR WANTS BETTER THAN YOU DO, AND PROVIDES FOR ALL OF THEM?"The Duke whispers something, presumably "you"
"ME. TO WHOM SHOULD YOU SWEAR FEALTY OUT OF GRATITUDE FOR ALL THESE SERVICES, AS THAT HE MAY GRANT YOU YET FURTHER REWARDS?"The Duke hesitates, a shout of defiance on the tip of his tongue, but as he watches you stretch your bony wings and flex your incredible fingers, he swallows his words and instead mumbles "You"
"CORRECT. YOU SHALL KNEEL, AND OFFER YOUR LOYALTY TO NOKLUVGN."The Duke's eyes widen as he recognises the name; the same name he has been praising each night before sleeping. He reluctantly bends down before you, and with his eyes on your feet intones: "I- I swear my- my undying loyalty to- to- to my lord Nokluvgn"
"GOOD. NOW SUMMON YOUR ADVISORS. THEY TOO SHALL KNEEL."Beneath your malevolent gaze, their eyes on the Duke standing nervously by your side, the Duke's inner circle bends the knee to Nokluvgn, and arise members of your cult. With the upper echelons of the court converted, and the rest of the court corrupt hedonists to a man, your work here is truly done.
Mischa, who was reluctant to see you arrive six weeks ago, is now reluctant to see you go, and requests that you return soon to see what progress she has made.
As you make your way back to Fellshore, you let off some steam by letting off some smoke in the woods. You feel much more content as the sound of roaring flames fills your ears, blast-furnace-esque heat sears your skin, and a rain of ash washes away your stress. Two villages are destroyed before the fire burns itself out, and though they are far away, the sounds of dying villagers still reaches your ears, filling you with glee.
Arriving at Fellshore, you note the beginnings of a crude wall around the settlement, the villagers building a palisade of logs, and then reinforcing it with layers of earth, conveniently using up the vast quantities excavated from the tunnels below. The villagers seem somewhat shocked to see you; your long absence had made their faith waver somewhat, with some of them just going through the motions. Not a trace of doubt remains when they lay eyes upon you again, and they work twice as hard to satisfy you.
You summon the spectre you sent to investigate the lake, and demand he tell you more, and no more riddles.
Ancient, forgotten beasts of old
Still slumber in that frigid deep
Their days no more, their tales untold
No longer making mortals weep
Those lurkers in that cursed lake
Begin to stir at evil's touch
Their powers are for you to take
Once your strength becomes too much
You slap the spectre upside the head.
Now then. It is time to
-Do something Evil.
The cults will be merged into one next update. You may want to check out the section on the Brylib division for a pleasant surprise.
The recruitment business didn't happen this update, but fortunately there are still a few weeks before the capital expects their soldiers, plenty of time to have your cultists infiltrate.
Name: Nokluvgn
Age: 6.25 months
Physical might: 45 (+3: province-wide suffering (continuous))(+4: OMNOMNOMNOM)(+5: Death&Destruction)
Mental might: 41 (+3: province-wide suffering (continuous))(+2: OMNOMNOMNOM)(+5: Death&Destruction)
Followers:135 (93 cultists, 4 Wordbearers, 14 rich people, 6 councilfolk, 3 knights (heavily armed), 1 ex-priest, 1 mercenary captain, 7 courtiers, 1 Duke, 1 Duke's wife, 4 advisers)
Slaves: 12 (4 priests, 1 high priest, 7 guards (armed))
Servants: 13 (4 Brutewolves, two Smokewraiths, one devil-horse, 3 spectres, 3 giant-rat-packs)
Cults: The New Way: Low organization.
Locations:
Fellshore: 76 members (74 cultists, 1 Wordbearer, 1 knight (heavily armed))
Power level: 13
Of which: 4 spent gathering resources, 5 spent building wall, 3 spent training.
Resources: 22 (-4: building wall)
Other: Training is underway (27/30). The villagers begin building a crude wall around the village. They can't quite manage a stone wall, but earth and wood makes a serviceable alternative.
Nuulyd: 44 members (19 cultists, 2 Wordbearers, 14 rich people, 6 councilfolk, 2 knights (heavily armed), 1 ex-priest)
Slaves: 11 (4 priests, 7 guards (armed))
Power level: 10
Of which: 2 spent recruiting new members, 3 spent developing courier system.
Resources: 1
Other: Middling success sees four new recruits join. The courier system has been established, and the first messages are delivered to Fellshore.
Castle Brylib: 14 members (7 courtiers, 1 mercenary captain, 1 Duke, 1 Duke's wife, 4 advisers)
Power level: 5
Resources: 1040 (+1000: Duke's treasury)(+40 p/week: Duke's income)
Other: With the Duke under your direct control, the treasury is opened to you, and the taxes flowing into it are yours to spend as you please.
Champions: Mischa Alwiz: The Duke's 'loyal' companion, now corrupted by the allure of evil.
Physical Might: 1
Mental Might: 6
Knowledge: Magic, basic Necromancy.
Possessions: Grey imp (knowledge of human & demonic magic, disguised as a crow)
Other: With a corpse to play around with, and less need to hide her activities, she makes significant progress with her studies, to the point where she is able to raise the corpse for an indefinite period, though she is still reluctant to openly walk around with a zombie following her, so leaves it in corpse form most of the time.
Fortresses: Fellshore: A small fishing village nestled between a small lake and a forest (with mountains not so far in the distance), now undermined with many tunnels and chambers forming a twisted maze, lit with smoky torches, where the shadows form strange shapes in the corner of your eyes.
Smallish labyrinth (10, increases secrecy)(10 denotes the defensive strength of the structure), Crude wall (under construction 15/100)
Small (hidden) altar: A suitable place to sacrifice to you and praise your dark name.
Author
Topic: Demonhood 2 -Number of giant minions lost: between 0 and 3- (Read 143920 times)