Lesser Wordbearers
Teach Kate and Mischa how to mutate other humans in Lesser Wordbearers. Lesser Worbearers are similar to Wordbearers but noticeably weaker because they are created by pathetic mortal magic
The ritual
Kidnap the rich folk, their families and prisoners who do not want to convert. Use all our subterfuge assets to do this, smokewraiths and ultraviolet imps, oversee the kidnapping ourselves and our cultists. Use them to complete the ritual. If we need more people kidnap more people from the streets and\or make some prisoners 'disappear' from the prison
Re-organization of the cult
Create an unholy parliament of 5 called Nokluvgn's hand. Current members will be Mischa, Kate, Winner of the tournament(Alice?), and the Duke
Inform the cult that you are leaving for few months and form a clear chain of command Nokluvgn's hand >Wordbearers>Lesser Wordbearers>Cultists>Slaves.
Mischa is responsible for magical training, making magical artefacts, maintaining control over imps and undeads
Kate is responsible for recruiting new members.
Former priest is responsible for construction of new underground temple and organizing regular worship of Nokluvgn.
Winner of the tournament is responsible for training and security.
Duke is responsible for getting resources.
Each of them receives control of roughly 1\8 of cult's power with 3\8 being left for living usual lives.
Nokluvgn+Malkus
Assemble a small and sneaky but deadly force composed of 10 spectres, 8 wights riding brutewolves, Malkus on his horse and the demon himself. Stealthy cross the border with Tokzoku Empire, go relatively deep in their territory, attack a village, kill everyone, raise villagers(including long dead ones in cemetery) as low-level undeads and move to attack another village. Repeat few times till we have a respectable undead army and\or attract attention of someone powerful, then decide what to do next .
Victor awakes at the sound of a door opening. Only moonlight illuminates his room; it is the middle of the night. Victor is, in a sense, lucky that he is a light sleeper. He steps out onto the landing, expecting to see his father stumbling drunkenly through the door after being away at a party for two days. Instead he sees five robed figures sneaking into his house, coils of rope in their hands. He carefully walks away, hoping that they don't see him, heading for his parent's room. He slips through the door and awakens his mother. Blearily she asks him what is going on; he explains that burglars are in the house. He tells her to flee, whilst he awakens his siblings. She reluctantly agrees, but insists that he take his father's sword.
As his mother sneaks down the back stairs, he heads back towards the landing, only to see four of the intruders headed up the stairs. He quickly hides in a cupboard, heart racing. Through a crack he watches the presumed burglar walk past his hiding spot, look at it curiously, then shrug and move on. When the man is out of sight, he steps out of the cupboard and quickly makes his way towards his elder sister's room. As he approaches, he hears a muffled scream, causing him to run towards the sound. In his haste, he does not think about the noise he is making, which alerts the
cultist, who looks away from the struggling woman to the corridor, where he sees a panicked young man holding a sword running towards him. He takes a knife out of his robe and throws it at the reckless youth, hitting him in the leg. The man collapses with a cry of pain, and the cultist walks towards him, picking up the sword, wielding it with far more confidence. When his colleague has finished tying up the woman, she joins him in the corridor to watch the man clutch his leg and whimper. They look at each other and shrug, then he kicks him in the head whilst she takes a fresh coil of rope and binds his hands.
Fifteen minutes later the entire household is sitting bound and gagged in the front hall, the mother having been caught by a sixth cultist who was waiting at the back door. One cultist lights a lantern and waves it in the window. In the street, another light waves back, and the six kidnappers lead their six kidnappees outside. They lead their captives down the street, brazenly walking past the nightwatchmen, who carefully look the other way. They are led a short distance across town, to another manor, this one far larger, where they are shoved down into the basement. There they join dozens of others, and their father, who is chained to the wall, blood still seeping from the open wounds across his body. Some of them burst into tears as they recognise friends, similarly taken with their entire families. A cultist removes their gag, and Victor immediately starts to scream for help, in the hopes that someone on the street might hear. All that gets him is a fist to the stomach, winding him so badly that he almost faints.
For several days they sit their in the dark. A cultist looks in on them occasionally, giving them a bucket of dirty water to drink from. One day a Wordbearer comes to look in on them, his runes glowing in the presence of the suffering and despair. He counts them, then frowns and leaves. Evidently they did not number enough, for they are soon joined by yet more captives, random people who had the misfortune to be walking the streets at night. Another count reveals the basement to contain 48 prisoners- ensuring that the captives do not even have room to lie down.
This number still seems to displease the Wordbearer, and the captives shudder to think what dark purpose would require so many of them. They have little time to ponder this, however, as they are soon bound and gagged again, and led back into the light. In the courtyard stand six wagons, into which the captives are stuffed like sardines, then covered with a tarp. In broad daylight the wagons leave town, the guards at the gate winking before waving them through without checking their cargo.
After a wagon ride that lasts hours, and a trek through a dark forest, they arrive in a clearing strewn with bones, dominated by a crumbling shrine, now decorated with scraps of cloth and human hides in honour of the depraved entity these cultists worship. A wizard with her hair tied back sarcastically welcomes them, then frowns as she realises how few of them there are. The Wordbearer steps forwards (shining like the sun in the Evil-steeped air), and explains that 'Nokluvgn' has promised to arrange the rest.
That he does, as several hours later exactly fifty-two people stumble out of the forest, blank looks in their eyes. They seem to wake up only as the cultists finish tying them up, whereupon they panic. They explain to the other captives that they were just walking down the street, minding their own business, when a man appeared before them and told them to go to the forest- which they felt inexplicably drawn into doing.
The wizard rubs her hands as the last prisoner is bound, and calls for her students to bring forth the
vessel. This they do, retrieving from a makeshift workshop to the side of the clearing a massive urn, three feet tall and wide as a man, criss-crossed with bands of a dark bluish metal, covered in runes of both magical and demonic natures. The wizard holds out her arm, and a giant crow lands upon it, and whispers something in her ear. She nods, satisfied, and starts to chant.
The ground beneath the captives glows, and they realise they are seated within a massive circle, which starts to glow an ominous red as the wizard recites her spell. Sparks start to fly out of the urn, and the air grows so thick with magical energy that even the captives can taste it. At the same time, a growing sense of dread heralds the concentration of Evil around the wizard, who starts to wave her arms around, pulling the Evil from the air so that it materialises as a thick black smoke, which she directs into the circle.
Some captives try to wriggle out of the circle, but they find that whilst they are free to move within it, the edge is utterly impenetrable. They spend several fruitless minutes throwing their weight against thin air, but to no avail. Then they find themselves with a new thing to worry about, as the black smoke starts to seep into their mouth and nose, causing them to cough violently. Then all strength leaves them and they fall helplessly to the ground, only capable of watching in horror as ever more dark energy pours into their bodies.
As the ritual approaches its conclusion, the wizard places one hand on the urn, and motions for her students to start repeating her chant with the other. Then she reaches out towards the circle and makes a grabbing motion, then draws back- struggling as if pulling on a great weight. She repeats this gesture several times before the victims start to notice its effects. For as she pulls, a shimmering mist, of shades varying from light to dark grey, starts to emerge from their bodies. Instinctively they know that they are seeing their own souls being ripped away from them, and they redouble their efforts to do anything. All they manage is a few desperate twitches- then agonised screams as their souls start to tear away from their flesh, which splits open and bleeds in sympathy. Their eyes roll back into their heads and they start frothing at the mouth, and still the wizard pulls, deaf to the cries of her victims. Then, one by one, the souls start to detach completely, whereupon they are quickly vacuumed up by the urn. The wizard starts to laugh maniacally as the souls swirl past her head, and she makes a few more pulls to finish off the stragglers.
Now the wizard looks both ecstatic and exhausted- but most importantly drained. The energy seems to be seeping away from her by the second, and she hurriedly performs one more spell- which instantly kills all of the soulless bodies, resulting in a great upwelling of Evil energy. This swirls inside the circle, before the wizard reaches out with an open hand to it, which causes it to flow through her, into the urn, which absorbs it easily, the metal bands glowing red-hot, the runes lighting up and shifting around, the souls within moaning in agony as they are bound within.
Mischa stands beside the Vessel, catching her breath. An acolyte brings her a flask of water, which she drinks some of, before dumping the rest over her head. Then she turns tiredly to where you are spectating, and motions you over. You oblige, striding forth till you stand next to her. Between gasps for breath, she says that the Vessel requires a piece of your essence to be complete- allowing it to serve as not only a repository and source of Evil, but also a sort of phylactery, ensuring that you can be reborn from the Vessel should you somehow be destroyed.
"YES", you say, and reach within your own chest. You pull out a chunk of yourself. Detached from you, the Evil itches to take on a new form, become a new demon with a personality of its own, but with difficulty you impose your will upon it, forcing it to remain essentially
you. Mischa puts on a pair of incredibly thick gloves, made from some exotic leather, and takes the chunk from your hands. Immediately she screams in pain as the raw Evil radiates through the gloves and burns her skin, and she acts as quickly as possible, turning towards the Vessel and carefully depositing the twisting mass within it. Two acolytes then quickly slam the stopper on it, before the chunk can escape, and Mischa seals it with one last blast of energy, before falling to the ground unconscious.
---
With the Vessel completed, you join Malkus and the wights, who sit astride the Brutewolves on makeshift saddles. The mother of your child is amongst them, but looks undeterred by the weight on her back. In the dead of night you set off for the east, passing by Nuulyd and into the mountains.
The Brutewolves do not seem to notice the cold mountain air, and the wights and spectres are obviously immune. Malkus wraps himself in a second cloak and shivers a little; the winter winds are blowing through the valleys, and soon the first snow will begin to fall.
Malkus's horse has no trouble going offroad, all but galloping over rocks and through forests. From a ledge above a pass, you spot a convoy of merchants, guarded by roughly a dozen soldiers wearing gleaming bronze armour, emblazoned with an image of the sun. One of them happens to look up, and spots you. He sounds the alarm, and the soldiers quickly form up, ready to repel an attack, but you seek softer targets, so you just turn around and ride off. They will not have gotten a good look at you anyway- all they will have seen is nine people riding what they presume to be horses, albeit horses with the cliff-climbing ability of a mountain goat.
*You ride for two more days before you stop, by the outskirts of a hamlet nestled half way up a mountain. You wait for nightfall before striking.
Cackling wights charge into the village, throwing burning torches onto houses and hacking at the inhabitants with cursed blades. The villagers put up a spirited defence, quickly organising themselves and taking up makeshift weapons, but the brutewolves are too fast for the villagers to get more than a hit or two in against their riders. What few blows they do land manage to crack a bone here and there, but such minor injuries are quickly regenerated. The wights screech at the villagers whilst spectres swoop through their ranks, whispering madness in their ears. Then you appear, and your monstrous visage is all it takes for the villagers to break and run in terror, making them easy prey for the wights.
Dozens are cut down as they flee, many more find themselves dragged to the ground by starving brutewolves. Those unlucky few who avoid such grisly fates run into you, and find themselves exposed to a brief glance of your true form, causing them to wordlessly fall to their knees, waiting to be eaten.
Using the evil generated by the hamlet's destruction, you raise any still intact bodies as zombies. Unfortunately this village is bereft of a cemetery, as it is too small. It didn't even have a priest, just a small statue of Tokchoko. Your undead horde is less of a horde and more of a small crowd at the moment. You have travelled two days into the mountains- about six on foot. You move on towards the
-North, where the air grows colder, and the villages sparser.
-South, where the air grows warmer, and the villages larger and more common.
-East, deeper into the mountains, where the air grows thinner, and the presence of the Tokzoku empire more pronounced.
Also currently accepting:
-alternate name for the Vessel.
Not currently accepting:
-cult actions. Let them do their own thing for a while, they'll be
fine. (Unless you really really want to)
Name: Nokluvgn
Age: 8.5 months
Physical might: 48 (+3 p/w: province-wide suffering)(-10: chunk placed in Vessel)(+5: OMNOMNOM)
Mental might: 47 (+3 p/w: province-wide suffering)(-10: chunk placed in Vessel)(+3: Worship)(+5: OMNOMNOM)
Followers:262 (153 cultists, 7 magically trained cultists, 22 Nails, 28 Nails (armed), 1 Finger (heavily armed), 40 mercenaries (armed), 4 Wordbearers, 2 trained Wordbearers (armed), 7 knights (heavily armed), 1 Duke)
Slaves: 12 (4 priests, 1 high priest, 7 guards (armed))
Servants: 98 (8 Brutewolves, 3 Smokewraiths, 15 spectres, 4 giant-rat-packs, 10 black imps, 4 ultraviolet imps, 8 skeletons, 4 Hollow Remnants, 3 fungal druids, 36 zombies, 3 Klrntvs, 8 Wights)
Cults:
The New Way: Medium organization. 212 members (103 cultists, 7 magically trained cultists, 22 Nails, 28 Nails (armed), 1 Finger (heavily armed), 40 mercenaries (armed), 4 Wordbearers, 2 trained Wordbearers (armed), 5 knights (heavily armed), 1 Duke)
Slaves: 12 (4 priests, 1 high priest, 7 guards (armed))
Power level: 24 (18 used)
Of which: 3 spent recruiting, 2 spent training cultists (32/32), 12 spent kidnapping, 1 spent arming Wordbearers
Secrecy estimate: The stricter hierarchy ensures that the actions of your cultists are more controlled, and efforts can be made to ensure discretion is employed. However, the mass kidnapping means that some people are starting to suspect that something may be afoot. (Risky)
Resources: 948 (+40 p/week: Duke's income)(-2: arming Wordbearers)(+2: Copper mines)
Locations: Nuulyd: Merchant & town council & jail connections. Mayor on the verge of conversion.
Castle Brylib: Court connections+.
Oegorda: Nokluvgn may have been detected here. No wizards to be found.
Fözdoch Province (misc): No special features.
Other: Focusing their recruiting efforts on the Mayor pays off. After several false starts, they manage to find a way to coax her into discussing religion, and after getting her suitably drunk, into agreeing that the Old Way is a problem, and that the time has indeed come for a New Way. A few more criminals and guards are recruited as well.
Champions:
Mischa Alwiz: The Duke's 'loyal' companion, now corrupted by the allure of evil.
Physical Might: 2 (+1: the Vessel)
Mental Might: 12 (+5: the Vessel)
Knowledge: Magic, adequate Necromancy.
Possessions: Grey imp (knowledge of human & demonic magic, disguised as a crow), the Vessel (An urn containing 100 souls and a chunk of Nokluvgn's essence; +1 physical and +5 mental, enhances spell-casting stamina. Large and unwieldy, requires knowledge of Necromancy to use)
Other: The Vessel enhances her powers greatly, and she soon recovers from the ritual used to create it. She finds that so long as she is within a 50 meters of it she can draw upon its power, and raises four zombies to carry it around for her.
Malkus Rom: The captain of the mercenaries in the Duke's employ, he proved an especially eager convert, requiring only the most minor of rewards before pledging his loyalty to you.
Physical Might: 9 (+2: Devil-horse)
Mental Might: 2
Knowledge: Competent Tactics.
Possessions: Devil-horse (A huge black horse with demonic strength and intellect; +2 physical strength, greatly increased mobility)
Other: Joins the attack on the hamlet. Personally kills a dozen villagers. Feeling pretty good.
"Kate": A female Wordbearer, trained in combat and magic and provided with arms and armour, now the vessel for your demonic offspring.
Physical Might: 6
Mental Might: 5
Knowledge: Adequate Mesmerism, basic Magic.
Other: 2/9(?) months pregnant. Oversees recruitment efforts in Nuulyd.
Demon-Brutewolf offspring: 0.75/2(?) months to birth
Physical Might: ?
Mental Might: ?
Other: The mother is already very visibly pregnant, despite this only being the third week. You suspect that the 2.5 month estimate may be a little high, and revise it to 2 months.
Fortresses:
Fellshore: Was a small fishing village nestled between a small lake and a forest (with mountains not so far in the distance), it has now been razed. It is 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)(being upgraded to Medium Labyrinth 56/200), Crude wall (construction halted. Defence value of 5. 32/100)
Hidden altar: A suitable place to sacrifice to you and praise your dark name.
Copper Mine: A recently reopened mine. The engineers recruited by the Duke are not yet converted (0/10 converted)
Copper Veins: Generates income (5 resources p/w) if fully staffed (requires 100 workers and 10 overseers)(currently at 50 workers and 10 overseers, generating 2 r p/w)
Author
Topic: Demonhood 2 -Number of giant minions lost: between 0 and 3- (Read 143362 times)