Turn 1:I Can't be bothered to think of a title after writing all of that.A massive swirl of darkness appears infront of the cultists as they gather for their usual prayer to their god. Within the darkness their was a sentient being, a god who ruled over the darkness itself, and his first thoughts were that of helping his worshippers. As the swirl of darkness settles standing there is a man made of pure shadows, adn voice is heard saying "Hello my children I am the god you pray to, Hikari the God of Darkness, and I have come to offer you my most devoted worshippers a sliver of my power. I will teach you the power of Necromancy with it you will be able to control the corpses, and skeletons of the dead to be your sword, and your shield, but to gain this power you must willingly accept it. So who among you wish to learn this power?" The crowd gahtered infront of him wore colthes of normal citizens all except one he stood tall, wrapped in a blood red cloak, and in awe of the shadow standing infront of him. "You must be Isarin, the prohept who has spread my word. For that I thank you my loyal child, and I promise you another life after your death. This promise is to all of you when you die I will take your souls, and reincarnate you, and give you another life to live, and all I ask in exchnage is your devotion, and worship."
At first many of them begin to back away, simply unprepared for such an appearance. The prophet raises a single hand and they all freeze, he nods and everyone relaxes, apparently this man has taught them very well. The promise of life after death invigorates the followers, and you can feel divine essence pouring from them, each yearning to have such power, as they come to you one-by-one you use this fervor and your own powers to break the very cycle of life within them. As they are each in turn washed with power they all partially die, becoming closer to the spirit world so that they could drag those poor souls back from it. The entire ritual takes from dusk to the first rays of dawn but by the time the sun rises each has the power over life and death, able to create mockeries of it to serve themselves. You however were unable to give them the exact controls of it, all except for the prophet, his closeness to you allows him the full knowledge of Necromancy, and the others the potential to learn to master it, in time.
-9 Divine Essence
+Current Followers gain the permanent ability to learn Necromancy from the teachings of others
+Prophet Isarin gains fulls Mastery of Life and Death
**Tomorrow a well-loved grandfather of a large family shall die in the presence of your prophet**
I attempt to gather a crowd of people, particularly who either have no religion or will be easily swayed to join mine. Then, I magically amplify me and my prophet's voice. "Comrades, citizens of the Great City of Unial, hear my call. We are the powerful nation in the world, yet our power goes unused! Join with me, great mean and women, and we shall begin our path to conquest!" Create several pieces of golden jewelry (or whatever the most expensive thing I can create is) and throw it into the crowd. "These gift are a mere fraction of what our great empire shall accomplish with me by our side!
Listen to the words of Andel, my prophet, the bringer of flame, and blessed worshiper of mine, and learn the true path to conquest!" Raise my scimitar in the air and create a pillar of fire, hopefully convincing them that I am fit for their worship. "Should you accept me as your god, I shall bless you and deliver upon your enemies the righteous cleansing flame! You shall have greater power than any other empire, and wealth that even gods such as I would envy! You will win any war, and will we blessed in all things should you accept me! Now together, we shall begin our glorious path to conquest! Spread the world of my dominion, and together we shall rise to victory! " I'll also send one follower to attempt an alliance with cthulu.
Description of prophet
Name: Andel
He is a mid sized young man with short brown hair. He is dedicated to spreading word of the new god, and believes that worship of me is the only true path to conquering the world.
Oh, and I think I forgot to mention in my description that I also wield a scimitar.
You persuade a minor crowd of weak-willed people to join near your prophet, who then climbs atop a large stone block. You lay your voice over the prophets and bellow forth with him you intentions. Gold coins rain lightly from the sky into the outstretched hands of the cheering crowd. As the cheering reaches a climax you appear standing above your prophet, as you finish the speech the crowd begins cheering your name, a chant the rebounds from the highest peak to the lowest valley. As the day wears on and the fever induced by your presence grows, a lord appears amongst the crowd, and screams his reply to you "Lord Arorlag, my estate shall become your first temple in this city of the weak, all shall know of thy presence!"
**The follower you send to contact the cult of cthulu is caught sneaking around a restricted area in the back of a bar, and is sentenced to hang for thieving tomorrow.**
**Tomorrow Construction on your first temple shall begin, as such you may have your prophet dictate how it shall be built, though keep in mind while a lord this mans purse is not unlimited.**
-5 divine essence
+21 followers gained
-1 follower sentenced to be hung
-Other gods now know of you in their city, though thus far you are a minor annoyance.
> I tell my people to multiply and evangelize, but not take unnecessary risks for the moment. I look for anyone doing tasks inefficiently, and tell my prophet ways for them to do things better and faster.
They celebrate and many a baby is conceived, (follower growth rate increased to 10% per turn for the next 5 turns) They construct a small shrine to you, through which you can preform miracles on people praying there at a greatly reduced cost. Everyone seems to be doing tasks fairly well for tribes people, though you notice one young man who seems a very unskilled lover, you are tempted to teach him to be better but restrain.
**Tomorrow a pack of wolves shall be drawn to the camp due to all the food and celebrations, without your intervention most of the people will be slaughtered.**
+1 follower gained
Empathica appeared before her follower as he lay dying amid the carnage he has created, his Bezerker heart bursted in his chest. She nodded somberly.
"So tell me...how do you feel?"
He looked up at her. She seemed to tower above him, a beautiful woman with the lower body of the horse-he knew her as his Goddess Empathica. Even for a man of his age, lust wasn't totally beyond him.
"Goddess? It hurts. Am I dead?"
She smiled serenely, and flicked her tail.
"The dead feel nothing. Hence, you remain alive."
The old man was curious.
"Why?"
She nodded again.
"My favorite question. I love giving the answers...you, Ser Elmal, have been my greatest follower, though you did not know it. Your life has been spent in pursuit of strong emotions that I have power over-passion, rage, anger, fear, hate, envy, hope...and your faith has allowed me to manifest myself here, momentarily at least."
He was curious.
"But, why have you come? Surely, you do not shepard souls to the..."
She flipped her hair, a little impatient.
"No. That's not my...jurisdiction. No, I've come to make you my prophet. My force on this world. You will spread the word of my coven. In return...I can make your life much more exciting. Not easier-more exciting."
The Goddess smiled brightly. Elmal accepted, and rose from that field, healed of body. Emapathica gave him a saucy wink, turned away and galloped off the field as fast a bolt of lightning, leaving only a bright, ringing laugh and an indistinct red light that slowly faded away.
The sky was cloudless. The mans heart was beating again in his chest. He felt stronger, and lighter of step. 10 years? more like 20 years younger. The Old man was a Young man, again. He felt good. Very good.
Action: Prophet Elmal goes to openly spread the Word of Empathica to the common man. Following Empathica allows one to live life to it's greatest, with no regrets.
Prophet Elmal roams the village spreading the word of Empathica, many of his old friends see his knew gain of life and are immediately drawn to believe, while a handful of impressionable youth take to the idea of no regrets for their actions and join. Though many are drawn simply by the ideals and not the exact belief in you as a goddess.
**Tomorrow many of your followers shall overindulge in beers and wines, and many will be susceptible of mind and body.**
+10 followers
- 10 average belief
In the center of the village Ferrus's Prophet gathered the people. He began to preach about Ferrus's might and strength, of his will and justice. Slowly the people began to accept his words. And then as he reached the highpoint of his speech, out of the ground behind him in a burst of light the mighty figure of Ferrus himself came forth, towering over the entire village. And together the prophet and Ferrus spoke in Unison, and the very ground shook at their voices.
Prophet is named Lord Haldron
The presence of Lord Haldron drew a crowd, as he began to speak he drew a larger crowd, and when the figure of Ferrus burst forth so many people had come forth that walking in the square was impossible. The crowd shook and the ground rumbled, faith and acceptance roared forth from the crowd, but many were unsure and scattered at the shaking. All together 30 people were left, but of those only 15 truly believed. The prophet was ashamed at the lack of acceptance from the people, but it was okay, they would come to his side eventually.
+15 followers gained
-2 Divine Essence
Dorim was conversing alone with his Prophet, in a large, cavernous room in the heart of StrangleMurk, below the city. The room was hewed out of the rock, with shining veins of various ores sparkling in spots. The prophet, Momuz, was a bushy haired, brown-bearded dwarf, and listened attentively to the image of his god. "My worshippers are few, but they are faithful. I am entrusting it to you to assist me in converting them. I know you can do it. The Stone is with you." Momuz bowed his head as the image of Dorim disappeared.
Momuz stroked his beard and walked to the back of the room, up stairs carved out of the stone. Having just finished conversing with Dorim, it was time to address the masses. Of the group amassed, there were only 20 faithful. The rest had come to see if the stories of were true. As the prophet entered, any talking fell silent, and those looking down raised their heads. "All gathered here, I have spoken with Gorim, God of all we hold dear. He has promised bountiful ores in the mine shafts, and that the Plump Helmets shall grow swiftly. He is still weak from the awakening however. He asks you to put your faith in him, and he will provide." With that, he left the room.
Action: Prophet Momuz travels throughout StrangleMurk, promising that Momuz will provide wealth and blessings for the Dwarven people in return for worship.
The actions of Prophet Momuz meets with unbelievable success, and as he talked with each dwarf in turn, that dwarf would run off to speak with another, come days end 50 more souls were gathered at the worship. Though their faiths carried conditions, without providing the ores and harvests in return, they will not stay long.
**tomorrow a minor cave in shall happen on a group of miners, they do not worship you**
+1 Divine Essence
+ 50 followers
- 50 belief
Murldon awoke, consciousness streaming into his being like a flash flood.
Who was he? He was Murldon, the faceless one. His identity unknown or nonexistant, he felt power flowing into him from his believers. It was time to put that power to use.
He studied his following, a motley collection of bandits and other assorted criminals and crooks, focusing on their leader, his prophet, Kandar.
A deep man was Kandar, thinking of things which perhaps should not be thought of, it was these wayward thoughts that had first allowed the idea of Murldon to enter his mind and take root there, growing into what it was today.
He would have to increase his following among the bandits, and continue from there.
Give our chosen the ability to shoot lightning from his hands and heal run of the mill minor ailments. Have him convert new followers with the aid these god-given powers as well promises of wealth and good fortune to believers, mostly wealth. Have some of the followers start building a temple/shrine dedicated to me, nothing too grand, gotta think small here.
You attempt to pour the control of lighting and disease into your prophet, but the whole endeavor meets with terrible success, instead he ends up inflicting anyone he touches with sickness. Luckily the prophet is resourceful and challenges the non-believers to touch his flesh if they truly would not see the ways of Murldon, after being punched a half dozen times by a number of headstrong men, those men then fall ill and die in fits of coughing blood. It spreads fear of your might, and a few men join with your faithful.
+10 followers
- 10 population killed
- 2 divine essence
+ feared by populace
Prophet Kandar causes sickness in those who touches his flesh
A man in his fifties was pondering on a book written in an ancient language long forgotten. This wasn't the only strange book he had for in his study room the four walls donned with bookshelves, each filled with books, books that hid within themselves the dark material of a man's worst nightmares. The man took a knife from his table and while chanting in an ancient language he slit his palm. His ritual was successful as his knees lost their power he started to hear a voice. A deep, ancient voice.
"Charles Dexter Ward, my most loyal follower. Tell the rest that I have awakened and to start looking for followers, start with the homeless, with the street thugs. Be careful, for this magic is frowned upon. Your services will not go unnoticed."
With that the voice had gone away and has Dr.Ward began to rise he heard the tiny feet of thousands of rats, the walls were covered and they all gathered to his desk. But as soon as Dr.Ward could notice it they were gone and a black book had appeared on his desk and on it written in gold was it's name, "Necronomicon".
(OOC:I don't strictly follow the Ctulhu lore in everything I write.)
The Prophet Charles Ward reaches to the book, and taking it in his hands begins spreading the word that you had awoken amongst the faithful, and they in turn began recruiting the scum of society. Those that resisted were taken and locked in the basement of Prophet Ward so that they might not give away the ancient cult. Though largely unsuccessful a few forlorn souls were drawn to the cult over the day.
+Artifact Created
Necronomicon+ 5 followers
+ 15 prisoners, must be fed or killed within 3 days
**
Tomorrow the moon shall reach it's apex of power, and any creation or transformation acts shall be free**
Author
Topic: Essence Born, Multiplayer Edition Turn 1 (Read 8335 times)