It was late in the day. Jalick was tired, hungry, and eager to be home. But the most expensive of his goats, a Durana Grey, was missing after his herd was scattered, and he needed to find it before he could return. There had been wolves seen on the plains, and of late he had been feeling something...odd. He knew several of the other herdsmen had that same nervous sensation. He suspected several of them had been suffering nightmares, and he was especially worried about…He was jolted out of his worries by a loud, pitiful bleat. Sprinting, he charged forwards, cursing, staff at the ready to protect his property.
He came to a halt, mouth hanging open, his grip tightening. The goat had been completely torn apart, its guts spilled on the ground. Two…things had their heads buried in its opened stomach, feasting noisily. A third was gnawing on the skull. They had no eyes, but mouths full of jagged teeth. Spurs of bone soaked in blood thrust from their withered flesh. Slowly, he began to back away, when the three creatures started to point behind him. A hideous laugh, sounding like rock scraping on rock came from their throats, and then they turned back to the goat.
Jalick turned, expecting to see more of the horrible creatures. These were terrifying, but he thought he could fight them. He was considered a tough, strong man. He had once fought off a sabrecat that had attacked his flock. These were probably no tougher…When he saw the true terror of what had come for him, he dropped his staff and fell to his knees. His sobs mingled with the sounds of the dying goat and the feeding creatures. He refused to look up, to see those impossible limbs and that terrifying maw again. He felt a crushing pressure around each of his limbs, burning agony as his flesh groaned and creaked.
Three days later his body was found, his face peeled off and nailed to the goat’s skull by bone shards. The rest of him was gone. The man who found him – a retired soldier who had fought a dozen battles without flinching – threw up at the sight.
For nearly two weeks you terrorize the lands, attacking whenever you find someone alone, and leaving their mutilated corpse on display. Soon people only travel in groups, and they frequent the temples ever more, though no answer comes to their prayers. The night is full of the sounds of grief, the day of tense silence.
You are careful, both never to be seen and to take from a wide area. You concentrate your kills on Dresick, but to avoid culling too much of your potential worshippers you slaughter several others as well, leaving their mutilated, unrecognizable corpses near the unfortunate village. In an incidental stroke of good fortune, one of the first men you killed was a peddler coming to Dresick. They shall feel the lack of supplies as the year stretches on, and your cult enjoyed the new foods and the various other supplies.
When you are not killing, you watch and listen, indulging yourself, feeling the rush from worship, the delight of misery and faltering faith, as the priest struggles to offer solace to the bereaved, although ironically your own poison makes his job a little easier.
An atmosphere of terror and despair begins to soak into the village, and people begin to pull apart, breaking into a few small groups, who argue nightly in the village hall and temple. Some want to go for help. Some want to go on the offensive. Some blame the desert tribes, or unusually savage wild animals, or even the ghost of Caliwik. No one can convince a majority, and no one wants to risk independent action.
Now, you shall…
[] Reveal yourself to the whole village and demand they serve you.
[] Offer to protect a few members in exchange for their worship
[] Step up the attacks
[] Something else
Name: Klx-Dryklfx
Time: 0.25 months
Physical Might: 17 (+6 meals, +2 worship)
Mental Might: 17 (+5 meals, +2 worship)
Followers: 13 Boneys
Cults
The Broken
Members: 13 Boneys
Resources: 1
Power: 3 (2 spent worshipping you)
Author
Topic: The Rise of a Demon (Number of ritual wedding duels: 1) (Read 57432 times)