#cistern fiend

[blackjackkent]

All right. Let's get Minsc back!

I learned (a bit) from my last attempt at this with Hector and am actually putting our frontline fighters ahead of the backline ones for purpose of walking through the little tiny tunnel in which we enter the Minsc Combat Zone.

Conveniently, since Jaheira will be going owlbear mode, this allows me to put her in front and continue my headcanon that she is no longer making a pretense of Rakha being the leader on this particular scenario. She is tired, she is angry, she is lonely, and she Wants. Her. Friend. Back.

She halts in the sewer tunnel, seeing the pacing bulk of the Rashemaar, then turns and puts out a hand abruptly against Rakha's arm. Her eyes go hard and steady, looking up to meet Rakha's.

"Hear me a moment, cub," she says quietly. "We have spoken of your blood, of the hunger it gives you to kill. And I have said that I will stand with you, that I will guide you. Well, let me guide you now."

Rakha blinks, raising one eyebrow slightly, and then nods.

Jaheira waits for this acknowledgement, then goes on. "I think we will find many cultists in there, including that fiend that wears my face. Do what you will with them. But lay a hand on Minsc with murder in your mind, and I will not stay my hand in answer. Are we clear?"

A long silence. Then Rakha nods again. "Yes," she says, low, gutteral - and completely firm. She has seen Jaheira's building strain over the last few days; she does not doubt the truth of the druid's words now. More to the point, she agrees with them. She does not want to kill Minsc; she has not followed his trail all the way here only to lose control now.

Jaheira searches her expression intently for a long moment, and then nods, drawing back. "Let us go, then."

-----

The cistern proper is a large open room, shrouded in foul-smelling fog. Long-abandoned and rusted mechanisms line the walls, along with heavy iron pipes snaking in and out of the stonework. Several hooded Bhaalists prowl the edges of the room, and at the far end stands Minsc with his doppelganger partner - and a small and surprisingly familiar figure engaged in intent conversation with them.

"All the coin seems to be there, if a little blood-stained," Roah Moonglow is saying cheerfully as Rakha and the others draw carefully within earshot in the cistern's shadowy entrance. She clicks her tongue, amused, and peers up at the two taller figures with sardonic humor. "You lot are enthusiastic about your Lord's work."

"Our Lady," the creature wearing Jaheira's face growls. "We serve only the Absolute."

Roah laughs. She doesn't seem at all bothered by the other woman's air of threat; Rakha gets the distinct impression that Roah has stared down enough people taller than her that it no longer troubles her a jot. "Silly me," the halfling deadpans. "We Zhentarim are so long past our own godly roots, I'm afraid I forget the half of them."

She turns her head to eye Minsc, and for a moment a little of the brittle facade fades, replaced by honest curiosity. "But you I know," she says thoughtfully. "When did you start worshiping gods?" Again the flash of a taunting grin. "Did they give your wee rodent a worm friend too?"

Rakha edges further into the sewer just enough to see Minsc flinch abruptly at the words. He looks as if someone has struck him - or, more to the point, as if something is striking him from within. Rakha knows that expression. She's felt it on her own face many times.

"Rodent?" he whispers unsteadily.

"Enough!" the false Jaheira snarls before Roah can clarify. "You will show the Stone Lord proper respect! And you will return to the Guildhall and do as we have paid you to."

Roah swallows, her composure cracking just a little. "Of course," she says hastily. "I only thought--"

"Wait."

The pain has faded from Minsc's face, and as he looks up, his eyes fix directly on Rakha, as if he has cut aside all the shadows that cover her. Then his gaze turns from her to Jaheira, and his expression hardens almost to the stone he has been named for.

"Flop all you wish, little fish," he growls, and the basso grumble of his voice resonates all the way to the room's high ceiling. "But Minsc has caught you!"

At once all of the Bhaalists are on guard, and the doppelganger draws her scimitars with a nasty smile. Rakha sees the glint out of the corner of her eye as Jaheira's blades flash into her hands in answer.

Roah grins broadly and immediately begins to backpedal towards the ladder that leads out of the room. "On that note - good luck!" she calls as she goes. "The job will be done by the time you get to the guildhall."

And then she's gone, and the Bhaalists close ranks. And as fire flares out from Rakha's fingers towards one of the cultists, she hears Jaheira's voice rising in alarm over the din of combat - no wise and controlled counsel now but pure desperate pleading:

[thecreaturecodex]

Cistern Fiend

Image by Thomas Baxa, © TSR, Inc.

[Before I played D&D, back when I was just a monster kid (as opposed to now, when I am a monster adult), I stumbled upon a website collecting large swathes of TSR’s monsters from their 2nd Edition Monstrous Compendiums. I didn’t get a chance to read all of it before copyright lawyers swooped in (it was still early in the days of Web 1.0, and AD&D 2e was still going strong), but the cistern fiend was one of the few monsters that really stuck out to me. Something about its absurd lethality. It drains 1/4 of your hit points per bite, no save, and its poisonous tentacles are save-or-die, paralyzed for minutes even if you do save. Maybe that’s why it only appeared in the Dark Sun Monstrous Compendium, not making any reappearances in later editions. I have toned down its lethality, and removed most of its psionic abilities, in this version. I also made it explicit that it can be trained as a guardian--the original is unclear whether the people living near a cistern guarded by a cistern fiend can still use the water, or if they’re universally victimized.]

Cistern Fiend CR 12 N Magical Beast This creature resembles a great cross between a cobra and a worm. Its body is transparent and possesses a faint greenish hue. Clusters of waving tentacles grow from its upper section, beneath a wide hooded head with piercing fangs.

Cistern fiends are predatory beasts that lurk in water, especially in desert oases or rare wells of groundwater in dry climes. They filter the water they live in, resulting in especially clean and clear water, but require blood as a nutritional supplement on a regular basis. Cistern fiends typically use magic to repel one type of creature from their wells while drawing another (repelling magical beasts but attracting animals, for example) in order to feed on the fluids of creatures coming to drink. Their tendrils whip about them while they attack, striking creatures nearby and injecting them with paralytic venom. Creatures that succumb to this poison are drained dry after the cistern fiend is finished with its current victim. A cistern fiend can consume vast amounts of blood at once, turning from a transparent green to a muddy brown and swelling from a flattened shape to a sausage-like plumpness. 

Cistern fiends are tamable, albeit fussy, and may be a vital protector of some desert communities. They can be commanded to use their spell-like abilities to repel or attract creatures the keeper chooses, as well as to ignore people wearing specific colors or making certain signal noises. Cistern fiends are simultaneous hermaphrodites, and fertilize themselves after especially good bouts of feeding. They give birth to a single cocooned offspring, which quickly leaves the water and finds a new hiding place, lest it be devoured by its parent. A young cistern fiend has a leathery skin that can retain water for as much as a week. Adult cistern fiends however require almost constant submergence, and only emerge from the water to feed.

A cistern fiend grows between forty and fifty feet long. When not fed, they have the circumference of a human thigh, but can up to triple in diameter after a large meal.

Cistern Fiend           CR 12 XP 19,200 N Huge magical beast Init +7; Senses darkvision 60 ft., lifesense 60 ft., low-light vision, Perception +9 Aura writhing tentacles (10 ft., Ref DC 20) Defense AC 26, touch 11, flat-footed 23 (-2 size, +3 Dex, +15 natural) hp 187 (15d10+105) Fort +15, Ref +14, Will +9 Defensive Abilities transparent Offense Speed 20 ft., swim 40 ft. Melee bite +19 (3d6+9 plus grab) Space 15 ft.; Reach 15 ft. Special Attacks blood drain (2d4 Con), constrict (2d6+9), poison Spell-like Abilities CL 15th, concentration +19 1/day—antipathy (DC 22), sympathy (DC 22) Statistics Str 23, Dex 17, Con 22, Int 1, Wis 14, Cha 18 Base Atk +15; CMB +23 (+27 grapple); CMD 36 (cannot be tripped) Feats Improved Initiative, Improved Vital Strike, Iron Will, Lightning Reflexes, Power Attack, Stealthy, Toughness, Vital Strike Skills Climb +13, Escape Artist +13, Perception +9, Stealth +12 (+20 underwater), Swim +14; Racial Modifiers +4 Escape Artist, +8 Stealth (+16 underwater) SQ compression, water dependency                    Ecology Environment any water and underground Organization solitary Treasure incidental Special Attacks Aura of Writhing Tentacles (Ex) All creatures within 10 feet of a cistern fiend must succeed a DC 20 Reflex save every round or take 1d12+3 points of bludgeoning damage and be exposed to the creature’s poison. The save DC is Dexterity based. Poison (Ex) Injury—slam; save Fort DC 23; duration 1/round for 4 rounds; effect 1d4 Dex damage; cure 2 saves. A creature reduced to 0 Dexterity by this effect cannot breathe and begins to suffocate. The save DC is Constitution based. Transparent (Ex) A cistern fiend gains a 20% miss chance against melee attacks made against it, and a 50% miss chance against ranged attacks. It may make Stealth checks without cover or concealment. This effect cannot be seen through with see invisibility or removed with invisibility purge, but is ignored by true seeing and suppressed if the cistern fiend is subject to a faerie fire or glitterdust spell. A cistern fiend that has consumed at least 5 Con points worth of blood is no longer transparent for the next 24 hours.

[bizarrobrain]

"Pulsating Mass of Worms" by Sewer Fiend - From "Echoes From the Cistern" (2021)

[albumarchives]

Sewer Fiend | Echoes from the Cistern (2021)

[mcprincessdiaries-archive]

life is fleeting and i realize i may never be able to share the stories i want to as fully fleshed out fiction. but thats ok cause im fine with essay length rambling text posts. so how about some belala lore indulgence :-)

part 1 of ???

some background: belalas spent like, basically her whole life studying to be a chirurgeon. while she excelled in the medical side of the field, her ability to weave healing spells left something to be desired. after learning everything she possibly could at whatever far flung outpost she'd been at, its guildmaster realized the help she needed was simply beyond what he could offer. so he sends her off to where he originally learned his craft, gridania

upon arriving and meeting with e-sumi-yan she immediately gets tasked with the tall order of assisting with the cleansing of the recently-ish-unearthed ruins of amdapor. of course, she wasnt to do it alone, as the guild leader had the foresight to seek help from a band of "incredibly trustworthy adventurers". three guesses at their identities.

sasabe had been approached by the serpent commander i-forgot-his-name while doing business at the adders' nest, asking if she was interested in assisting a newly arrived conjurer with some great arduous task. she accepts, and invites bonana and oranje to help too

so a black mage, a dark knight and a samurai walk into the stillglade fane. this happens during late stormblood, by the way. bonana, upon realizing who theyre helping, is just 100% completely absolutely stunned. to make it worse, she doesnt seem to recognize him (remember, she hasnt seen him since he was still a kid), so he decides to play the cool and stoic act and leave the talking to the other two while he internally panics

its a long, awkward trip down to the south shroud. belala did happen to recognize sasabe as "the girl at the tea shop" that befriended her sister. it prompted her to share quite a few embarrassing stories about said sister, that perhaps he didnt want sas to know about. just as well, belala also spent some time poking and prodding at him a bit, wondering why he seemed to regard her so strangely. but before he caved in to her pouting, they arrived at the entrance to the lost city.

there, they meet a serpent officer casually leaned against the wall, a mighty weird lance upon his back, his collar so high you could fit a number of puppies in it. he proclaims he was sent by brother e-sumi-yan to oversee them to their task, and guide them if need be. a dungeon, basically, theyre doing a dungeon. not lost city though. lets call it ummmmm....the dreamer's assay. sure

the first part is underground where ancient aqueducts flow into a cistern. but after decades upon centuries of being clogged, the areas grown stagnant with mold and decay, the creatures that roam it just as rancid. immediately belala is overwhelmed by the assault on her senses, while the others dont seem nearly as bothered. after assuring shes ok bonana charges ahead, but not too fast cause hes not quite certain of her capabilities yet.

at the end of their path they find an enormous croc infected with all manner of fungi and parasites. not a regular crocodile mind, one of those fucked up hairy ones with the face that splits open

after an intense boss fight the beast is laid to rest, and belala senses a change in the area. grabbing at that feeling, she channels aether through her staff and cleanses the stagnant waters of its taint. as it flowed freely again, she swears she saw someone standing at the other side, leading them onwards

the second part...i havent actually solidified. all ive got is its like a bunch of spiderwebs over a chasm, with a big ol' spider boss at the end. belala cleanses the wind, and she sees the ghost again, taking them even further downwards.

the THIRD area is some kind of sanctum, clearly somewhere important back in its glory days. however, it appeared to have a growing voidsent problem, the fiends forcing themselves to manifest within the power-laden statues adorning the place. after dealing with the infestation, the group comes across a very large, very important and imposing-looking statue, in similar appearance to kuribu. but instead of a faceted red jewel imbedded in its chest, this one was a smooth, pure white.

the serpent officer steps forward, shoving belala out of the way to reveal his ulterior motives. for he was never a real officer, but a black mage of ancient mhach...whose corpse had been roused into undeath by a rather ambitious voidsent. her plans laid bare, she makes her move to inhabit the statue just as it began to stir.

however, she couldnt possess it completely, becoming instead an abomination of marbled stone and twisted flesh, its wings breaking and giving way to a mass of writhing tendrils. the point is its very scary and gross and belala is 100% freaking out cause she has never seen anything like this before. queue final boss music

belala manages to gather herself as the other three make quick work of the fiend. everything goes fairly smooth, until the field is obscured in a cloud of darkness, the voidsent catching all of them unaware in the grasp of her tentacles. with quick thinking bonana shields his sister from the brunt of the attack as theyre grabbed together, afterwards wiggling one his arms loose to protect her with a powerful barrier (blackest night babyyy).

suddenly the conjurer finds herself all alone, that horrible creature gloating as it loomed over her. digging deep to find the courage within herself, she raises her staff and calls out to the stone still clinging on, and the white crystal resonated with her pleas. the statue collapses in on itself, crushing the voidsent within, as a wave of white, holy light bursts out, utterly destroying whatever remnants of it were left.

with victory secured, she rushes to aid the others recovery. none worse for the wear, sasabe starts looking through the rubble of the once-glorious statue. within it she finds the selfsame stone that had been embedded in its chest, completely smooth, save for a single symbol carved into its surface. the soul of a white mage.

she hands it off to belala and upon holding it, she sees the same small ghostly figure clad in white and crimson. this time, however, they take off the hood...revealing a face eerily similar to her own. holding up a finger in a hushing motion, the phantom dissipates, leaving the band to make their way back to gridania.

upon returning belala shows the soul crystal to the guildmaster, and he smiles and congratulates her, revealing the journey had been a deliberate test. it turns out the padjal had already known about its resting place as the ruins were explored, but was asked by the elementals not to disturb it. he was told to wait for the right moment in which a rightful successor would step forward and claim it. reluctantly she accepts, still feeling as if she hadnt quite earned it.

but before she can ruminate on it bonana asks to talk with her alone outside, except its not really a talk he just kind of awkwardly takes off his helmet to reveal his identity. belala is rightfully shocked, wondering why he didnt say so sooner. as it turns out, he didnt because he believed she'd been in cahoots with their mother, as he had seen letter written between them, and knew that she was the one who'd been pressing for him to leave home and study medicine just like she did (the thing that drove him to run away)

belala tries to assuage him and explains the reason she did that was because she knew how unhappy he was at home, and there wasnt much else she could do, being so far away, with no way to talk directly to him without their parents knowing (yet she admits there was an aspect of just wanting to see him again to it as well). but this only irritates him further as he sharply points out hes not a little kid that needed saving, and he definitely didnt need his goody-goody sister being around for others to compare and ask why he cant be more like her

ultimately their little "reunion" ends with him storming off, leaving belala alone to contemplate about just how much time has passed between them.

[the-hoarse-bard]

I returned to Delphine, and she was disappointed to hear the Thalmor didn’t know anything, but was surprised when I mentioned they were searching for someone named Esbern in Riften. She explained that Esbern used to be the lorekeeper for the Blades. She had assumed the Thalmor had killed him when the Blades dissolved. I said that if someone was hiding in Riften, they’d probably use the Ratway. Dank sewer full of ruffians, no one would look down there. I offered to ask the lads at the Ragged Flagon, they’d probably know something.

Delphine agreed, but before I could leave, she pointed out a chest in the corner, saying that I might want my gear back. I was embarrassed at nearly forgetting, but just took my stuff and headed toward Riften. I swear I could hear Delphine laughing at me as I left.

As I arrived in the Flagon, I felt something was slightly off, but ignored it. I was busy. I walked over to Delvin and asked what he knew about a fellow named Esbern. He thought a moment, but then said, “You mean the crazy bloke who lives back in the vaults with all the locks on his door?” I knew of the man. I had encountered him during my early days with the guild. “You mean THAT’S Esbern!?” I asked incredulously, “I thought he was just one of the usual crazies back there.” Delvin replied, “I’m not completely sure of the blokes name, but it’s worth checking out, eh.” I begrudgingly agreed and thanked Delvin for the info before heading for the back room, where the door to the vaults was.

The vaults are somehow even more unpleasant than the rest of the Ratway. The rest of the Ratway is full of muggers and fiends waiting to take any and all gold you have, sure, but the Vaults are full of madmen who are willing to kill you for absolutely no reason at all. It’s all the guild can do to keep this lot out of the Flagon itself.

As I entered, I noticed that the Thalmor were already down here also searching for Esbern. The Flagon is far from the only entrance to this place, doubtless they knew that the guild would probably try to extort them for all they’re worth to use that entrance. I paused to listen for footsteps, and counted only three men down here. This would be easy.

I stayed low on the shadowy ledge near the Flagon entrance, and waited for one of the soldiers to wander close. I dropped down behind him, planting my dagger in his spine. Unfortunately, one of their wizards heard it. He turned around and whipped a firebolt at my head. I ducked it and dove for a nearby doorway. It seems I chose the wrong one, as another firebolt whizzed down the hall it was attached to. I took a deep breath, and dashed down the hall towards the, now very frightened looking, wizard and put my dagger into his eye and he quickly bled out.

The final soldier burst through a nearby door, having heard the commotion, and he took a riposting stance. Seeing he was prepared for armed combat, I sheathed my dagger and instead chose to use my claws. I used my speed and dashed into his gut with my shoulder forward, grabbing him around the midsection, causing him to drop his sword in surprise. I lifted him over my head and fell backwards, placing our total weight directly on his neck as his head met the flagstones. I heard his helmet dent on impact along with a satisfying crack from his neck, and he was dead, allowing me to proceed deeper into the vaults.

At last I found the familiar door, wrapped in chains and covered in far too many locks for a sane man. I walked towards it slowly, and knocked on the board covering the slot. It slid open, and I heard that familiar paranoid voice, “What is it, what do you want? Oh, it’s you again! Who sent you this time, the guild again?” I replied, “Actually, this time it’s someone you might know better. Delphine. We’ve been looking for you to help fight the dragons returning, but it looks like the Thalmor know you’re down here too.” He was shocked to hear the name Delphine, and wondered out loud whether it could be a trick, but then he decided, “Very well, I’ll believe you. Give me a moment to get ready and we’ll go.”

I heard some rummaging from behind the door for a minute and then I heard him speak again, “Okay, I’m unlocking the door now.” The process of undoing all the latches and tumblers and stoppers took longer than it did for him to gather his belongings. Eventually, though, he stepped out, every bit the disheveled old bastard I had expected. He said, “Well, then... Shall we?” and took the lead back toward the Flagon.

As we made our way back, we were accosted by another small contingent of Thalmor soldiers. Esbern put his arm in front of me, telling me to stay back. I was curious about what he was about to do, so I listened. He took a breath and thrust both of his palms forward and a violent storm of wind and ice scattered them all before us. 

As I was gawping at the destruction this one old man could wreak, I heard a small exclamation of surprise and fear from the end of the hall, and in the darkness made out a face. He took off on seeing me notice him, but I chased him down and tackled him to the ground. He pleaded with me not to kill him, claiming that he was just an informant. I asked what he meant and he presented me with a note bearing instructions to alert the Thalmor if he saw me. That’s when I recognized the rat bastard. He was what was off in the Flagon! We only get regulars, and it had felt off because I didn’t recognize him!

He still groveled at my feet not to kill him, but then I leaned down and said to his teary face, “No.” and ran him through with Windshear. Esbern asked from behind me, “Someone you know?” I replied that he wasn’t, but that’s what the concern was. The Thalmor had one plain-clothes informant, they would likely have more. 

Esbern advised caution, and we chose to take the secret exit from the Flagon’s cistern into the graveyard behind the temple of Mara. As we came out of the yard in front of the temple, we were rushed by a Khajiit with a dagger. She yelled at me in Ta’agra, “You cannot escape, slow paws!” She tackled me and was about to plunge her dagger into my chest when an ice spike suddenly burst through her chest.

Esbern had just saved my life. He helped me up and asked if I was okay. I told him not to worry about me, and I searched the Khajiit’s body. She had a note much like the one that stranger in the Ratway had. I had to laugh a little. Instead of alerting her Thalmor masters, she had chosen to attack us on her own, and that lead to her death. Esbern and I immediately realized we couldn’t stay in the city tonight, so we set off for Riverwood at once.

[naviizeldablog]

Hylia’s First - Part 2

First things first, I want to say thank you to @luna3002 for reminding me that I had in fact, a wip that was promised to be published. I then searched through my wips and to my astonishment, and annoyance, saw that I was nearly done with the fic and had decided to abandon it. For some stupid reason.

But yeah, here’s the way over due chapter two for Hylia’s First, no there will not be a part three unfortunately. Credit goes to @linkeduniverse for the awesome au. 

Peace out.

Warnings: violence, blood, fighting, the usual

“That’s enough Ghirahim.” All heads turned towards Sky, who stood in the now open doorway to the altar. He wore an unreadable face, which unsettled the heroes who were so used to his outgoing personality. The demon saw him and smiled with anticipation. 

“Skychild, we meet once more.” never once breaking his gaze with the demon lord, Sky walked over to where Wild laid unconscious in Hyrule’s arms and picked up the Master Sword. The others watched silently as he retrieved his shield from where he left it and approached the mysterious stranger.  

With the eerie smile still visible, Ghirahim opened his mouth to speak but was suddenly interrupted by the glowering knight. “I know not of how you’re here, or how you’ve managed to escape your prison. But I will not let you hide among the dwellers of light any longer!” To the other heroes, it seemed that the sacred sword glowed faintly in the dim atmosphere when their friend spoke.

The demon sighed in disappointment, “And here I thought you would at least listen to what I have to say. But I suppose that we’re both short on time here aren’t we?” with his free hand he snapped his fingers, and another sword appeared within his grasp.

“No matter now. Today I will avenge my fallen master, and what better way is to do so than killing his executioner!”

The heroes moved out of the way, dragging their unconscious comrades along with them. The two swordsmen walked in a circle, each one waiting for the other to make a move. Suddenly the demon tucked his sword in by his side, and dashed faster than could be possible at the Skyloftian. His lash was meet by a sturdy shield and a counter attack directed towards his head. They pushed each other away, and started to viciously engage in battle, neither opponent showing mercy. 

The two fought, the sounds of metal clashing echoed throughout the cistern. To the others it was as if the brawling swordsmen were dancing, with no signs of one having the upper hand on the other.

Suddenly the demon unleashed a wave of daggers, one of them slicing open the hero's cheek. A fire could be seen burning in Sky's eyes as his face morphed into a vivid expression.

He raised his sword upwards, where it became engulfed with a bright aura. Sky then brought down his blade, and from it, a piercing light threw the demon against a pillar where he landed which a sickening crack. The demon pushed himself up on his elbows as he stared down the approaching knight. Tension was high in the room as the Master Sword, glowing bright and powerfully, was held up to the demon’s neck. 

“Dammit...”

“Surrender now and perhaps live another pitiful day, or be cut down by the sword of Hylia.” at Sky's command, the demon looked at the sword pointed at him with disgust.

“Does she still speak?” the Skyloftian was taken back by his question, but only placed a boot on the demon’s chest, and pressed the blade closer as he spoke.

“What is it to you?”

His foe chuckled, or at least attempted to with a foot on his battered ribs. “Death will do me more mercy than chains and humility, do you have it in you to deliver a final blow Skychild?” Sky narrowed his glare down at his beaten opponent, and then to the other’s surprise, held his sword high above his head.

“SKY WAIT!” the knight paused his execution and looked at the speaker, who just happened to be Hyrule struggling to stay on his feet. “I know it’s easy to be caught in the flow of taking out hoards of monsters and foes,” the younger hero staggered for a second and coughed out some traces of blood into his sleeve, “but this is different.”

The demon underneath Sky’s boot let out a pained laugh, “A bit new to the job are we now? If you’re not used to serving true justice then how did you even manage to take down your enemies?” the demon was silenced by the increasing weight upon his chest, and gritted his teeth as the hero pushed down on his broken ribs. 

The younger hero took another step closer, "Sky..."

“You don’t know what harm this fiend has done.” the venom in his voice was evident, a stark contrast to his usual personality.

Despite sensing the growing storm of anger, Hyrule tried to ease his friend again, “Maybe not, but this isn’t you Sky-”

“This demon doesn’t deserve to live in this world of light!” Hyrule was quickly silenced and gave a pleading look to the other heroes as Sky once again had his sword at ready.

"Sky," all heads turned towards the hero of time, who was being propped up by Twilight. "If you kill him out of cold blood, then you degrade yourself to your foe's degree." silence filled the cistern while the hero of the sky thought over his choices. And then to their relief, he slowly brought his sword down to his side, and stepped off of the demon. Head down and expression unreadable. 

A gasp and a shout echoed through the room, “SKY BEHIND YOU!” but just as Ghirahim reached the hero with a dagger in hand, a blade pierced his chest, and the gem centered on his chest. Sky’s face was unreadable, but his arms shook while he had his sword positioned behind him without even turning around, just in time to end the battle for good. 

He stood up from his battle stance, and pulled the blade out from his foe’s now limp body. He and the others watched as the demon torso became littered with black cracks spreading from the broken gem, the light of insanity and battle disappearing from the demon’s eyes and replaced with a dull and lifeless glaze. 

“So are you going to tell us who that was or are we going to have to figure out by ourselves?” heads turned from the hero of oracles who had just spoken, and then to the brooding knight standing over the demon’s corpse. 

The first hero sighed and sheathed his sword and shield, “If you didn’t know before now, his name is Lord Ghirahim.  Second-in-command to the king of shadow Demise, who you now recognize as Gannon.” Mutters and whispers were spoken among the heroes, until they were hushed by the oldest soldier.

Shrugging off his successor, the hero of time stood up and glared Sky down. “It appears that there’s something else you’re hiding from us.” to this, Sky looked around at each of his descendants, contemplating on how he were to explain, well. Everything.

“...Ghirahim... is the first creation of the goddess Hylia.”

[bigbenalpha]

I’ve been DMing, session 5

The D&D session this evening (08/22/18) was pretty loot-centric. No fights happened but there was still a dangerous development. This recap is slightly long but it's a good read if I do say so. **WARNING** might be scary

A few more bodies were found in the flooded cellar, but they were genuinely dead. The party found healing potions and antitoxins in the cellar, coin and many useful items that once belonged to the zombies. The ghost's body was discovered - it was the zombie that was missing its legs. Her daughter and son were two of the bodies from inside the cellar. The party made a pyre and burned all the corpses. They decided to check out the cave where the stream flowed out to fill the cistern. This is where the Drow came out according to the goblins.

Inside they discovered a large cavern with many types of mushrooms, some edible and some that glowed faintly. There were also many clusters of glowing crystals and a strange trail of something on the cavern floor that seemed like room temperature ice. It was the hardened slime trail of a flail snail. Luckily the snail wasn't around but several party members knew that the trail, once hardened, could be harvested and melted down and used like glass. It would fetch a good price from the right people at market. Back outside, a locket and a strange metal object was found in the ashes of one of the dead kids. Right about where the stomach should be. The locket was a cameo that matched the family portrait in the farmhouse and the object... maybe was a key to the lightning chest?

A few of the party took the ashes and skulls of the ghost and her kids to the small family cemetery and laid them to rest by the grave of her husband, placing the cameo in his gravestone. Back at the house, the object was indeed the key to the chest. even more coin and loot was found. But first a magic mirror in the lid showed the party a quick montage of the many people who tried to pick the lock. The first was a goblin being forced to do it by a Drow then a series of random people who seemed like bandits or adventures, maybe a hapless teen who talked his pals into partying in the haunted house. Most of those people were clearly killed by the lightning trap. Then there was hideous, green woman with greasy black hair and gnarled hands. The lightning slammed her hard and seemingly fried her left eye. As she crawled away the mirror returned to normal. When the party returned to the great room of the farm house they felt the temperature drop like when the ghost confronted them in the windmill. They saw the lady working at her stove while her kids sat the kitchen table. The front door opened and the husband walked in. The party were only able to hear the faintest whispers from the family and they all ran together and embraced. Right before the vision faded the woman looked at the party and smiled.

The party loaded up the slightly recovered hostages and the stolen loot onto the farm's rickety wagon and donkey cart (which were going to have to be pulled by the big beefy party members). Storm clouds had gotten thicker in the sky. Useful things were harvested from the ankheg and giant wolf spiders, then they were thrown onto another pyre with the bodies of the Drow, goblins and chitines. As they reached the edge of the wheat fields lightning struck the windmill and farmhouse. The fires quickly spread and the old grains in the mill exploded. As the party picked up their pace and fled into the forest and the road back to the caravan the fire spread to the fields.

Also in the chest was a journal. The ghost's name was Willofred Hargrove, wife of Yusef, mother of Henry and Susan. The ghost and the family portrait she her having long, raven-black hair, as do her children. She was a wizard and she and her husband were adventures who finally came back home to take over his family's farm. They were joined by two dwarf fiends and a halfling. About fifty years ago the town of Fair grove was caught in a turf war between hill and fire giants. Yusef was in town and died. The town wasn't completely destroyed and many people kept living there but it was pretty much done. Then another series of bad things begin to happen. Crops failed, farm animals and elderly folk were struck down by a mysterious malady, children began to act up and do destructive things. The final event was shocking - a young mother threw her newborn twins over a waterfall and killed her husband. She was raving that it was really the fault of the Queen Bee or the Green Bee and she took her own life a few days later. Willofred suspected that a green hag was at large in the area and began to take steps to protect the area from her. Then Henry and Susan went missing. That was the last entry.

Back at the caravan the hostages were all reunited and their stolen items returned. The party were congratulated and many tales were told over the campfires. As the evening drew to a close Baba Sarya told that party that had seen in her cards that a heavy cloud hung over that farm and the party had disrupted something. She told them all to stay close to the fires or sleep inside if they could. Everyone went to bed and fell into a well earned sleep, and they dreamed.

They all dreamed the same thing, but they were each alone in their dreams. The awoke from a nap, on a couch, the tears they shed when they cried themselves to sleep were dried on their cheeks. They were back in the farmhouse, clean and well-kept. Their spellbook and various implements of craft were on the coffee table. None of the scryings had shown the location of Henry or Susan. They stood up and straightened their dress, the potions that were cooking on the stove were ready to be bottled and stored. They loaded up the bottles which felt weightless compared to how heavy their heart was. They made their way to through the fields, past the windmill and down the path to the cellar. Odd, the door was open and one of the oil lamps was burning. Maybe one of the farm hands had forgotten to close up properly. They set the potion bottles on the shelves that were full of many home-canned foods. They hear a sound even though in the dream there aren't really any sounds. They turn and see their children standing in the cellar door. They run to them, silently shouting their names but they don't respond. They look up with dead eyes and pestilent mouths. The door slams closed and the children pounce. The lights go out and they tumble in the darkness, every bite just feels frozen and empty.

When the lights come back the party members are themselves again, but so very young. They're reliving a shameful episode from their pasts. Maybe they were grown when it happened bu the dream they're kids. They're being slapped around by bigger kids they half remember and grown-ups are watching and letting it happen. The worthless little shit deserves that and more after doing a rotten thing like that. maybe some of the adults are people from the caravan. They finally get free of the crowd and head deeper into the house. Is it a house? Did all that really happen here? Somewhere a baby is crying and maybe... pigs are eating at a trough? They wander down a long hall, things seem familiar but not. The crying and eating sounds get louder. A woman is humming an oddly happy tune. They go in the room where the singing, crying and eating are coming from. The ceiling seems so high and all the furniture has strange, drawn-out proportions. Two dark-haired kids are sitting at a table eating dinner. A woman with long black hair is sitting with her back to them, sewing and singing. You can tell now that two babies are crying somewhere in front of the woman. She sings:

"You must be my lucky star 'Cause you shine on me wherever you are (SNAP! baby screams) I just think of you and I start to glow 'Cause I need your light and baby you know" (SNAP! baby screams)

They don't want to get closer but they can't help it.

"Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight"

They're right beside her and she turns suddenly. It's the hideous green hag with a patch on her left eye.

"I see you! I know what you did! Maw-Maw Sugar knows!"

On the table in front of her are two screaming newborns. She's twisted one of their legs around and sewn it onto their backs. Their heads are at an unnatural angle. They flip over onto their remaining leg and to hands and crawl to the edge of the table. The party members jump back and bump something. This gets the attention of the two black haired kids who stop eating their mother and get up. Maw-Maw Sugar cackles. ^They party realizes they're in the windmill. Here's where things diverge in the dream.

Half the party get scared and run, half stay and fight. The fighters become their adult selves and have their weapons. They swing at the hag but she floats out of reach. The zombies and the baby things move in. The fight goes up the stairs as the the hag cackles and the windmill catches fire.

The ones who run go outside into the wheat field, which stretches on forever. The zombie kids and baby things give chase. From up above they hear the hag cackling. They turn to see her circling overhead, riding a flaming scarecrow. She swoops down and grabs them in her giant hand and pulls them to her face.

"I know what you did and I'm gonna find you! And Maw-Maw sugar is gonna EAT! YOU! UP!" Her face is covered with bees and she pulls the patch away from her eye revealing a terrifying, fanged maw. She crams them. In the mill the fight stops when the fire engulfs the stairs and they fall into nothing. Everybody wakes up, not at all rested. and that's where we stopped. PREVIOUS         NEXT

[king-of-the-sandbar]

Sewer Fiend - Echoes from the Cistern

Pere Ubu - Dub Housing

Visceral Mass - Visceral Mass EP

Katy Kirby - Cool Dry Place

Freshman Woes - Thank You Rap Gods

Aux Cutter - Aux Cutter

Megadeth - Cryptic Writings

Megadeth - So Far, So Good… So What

MDC - Millions of Dead Cops

Billie Eilish - Happier Than Ever

Drug Toilet - Believe in Love EP

Hum - Downward is Heavenward

Atrahasis - Antediluvian Prophecies

Obliteration - Black Death Horizon

Obliteration - Necropsalms

Coroner - RIP

Autopsy - Mental Funeral

Ruun - Atheos EP

Nekromantheon - Rise, Vulcan Spectre

Condor - Unstoppable Power

[crab-full-of-rocks]

someone: can you rap??

me: ya

me: Well, ya got trouble, my friend, right here, I say, trouble right here in River City. Why sure I'm a billiard player,certainly mighty proud I say I'm always mighty proud to say it.I consider that the hours I spend with a cue in my hand are golden.Help you cultivate horse sense and a cool head and a keen eye. Did ya ever take and try to give an iron-clad leave to yourself from a three-rail billiard shot? But just as I say, it takes judgement, brains, and maturity to score in a baulk line game,I say that any boob can take and shove a ball in a pocket. and they call that sloth the first big step on the road on the depths of deg-ra-Day. I say, first, medicinal wine from a teaspoon, then beer from a bottle. An' the next thing ya know, your son is playin' for money in a pinch-back suit. And listnin to some big out-a-town Jasper hearin' him tell about horse-race gamblin'. Not a wholesome trottin' race, no! But a race where they set down right on the horse! Like to see some stuck-up jockey'boy sittin' on Dan Patch? Make your blood boil? Well, I should say. Friends, let me tell you what I mean. You got one, two, three, four, five, six pockets in a table. Pockets that mark the difference between a gentlemen and a bum, with a capital "B," and that rhymes with "P" and that stands for pool! and all week long your River City

youth'll be frittern away, I say your young men'll be frittern! Frittern away their noontime, suppertime, choretime too! Get the ball in the pocket, Never mind gittin' dandelions pulled or the screen door patched or the beefsteak pounded.

Never mind pumpin' any water 'til your parents are caught with the cistern empty on a Saturday night and that's trouble,

oh, yes we got lots and lots a' trouble. I'm thinkin' of the kids in the knickerbockers, Shirt-tail young ones, peekin' in the pool hall window after school, ya got trouble, folks! Right here in River City. Trouble with a capital "T" and that rhymes with "P" and that stands for pool! Now, I know all you folks are the right kinda parents. I'm gonna be perfectly frank. Would ya like to know what kinda conversation goes

on while they're loafin' around that hall? They're tryin' out Bevo, tryin' out cubebs, tryin' out Tailor Mades like cigarette fiends! And braggin' all about how they're gonna cover up a tell-tale breath with Sen-Sen. One fine night, they leave the pool hall, headin' for the dance at the Arm'ry! Libertine men and Scarlet women! And Rag-time, shameless music! That'll grab your son and your daughter

with the arms of a jungle animal instinct! Mass-steria!

Friends, the idle brain is the devil's playground!

[andrwjames]

don't follow me don't retweet don't reblog you're what's wrong. you can't see. but you're sucked to a system, of negativity. your posts are cistern, at best, an intern, you've got no return. wheres i'm like agassi. because i got swagger, see. i believe in me. and pursue my beliefs of a world more pleasing less teasing, more dreaming. and no more fiending. straight off top goodnight fuck it all

[king-of-the-sandbar]

8/6 - 8/13

Sewer Fiend - Echoes from the Cistern

Pere Ubu - Dub Housing

Visceral Mass - Visceral Mass EP

Katy Kirby - Cool Dry Place

Freshman Woes - Thank You Rap Gods

Aux Cutter - Aux Cutter

Megadeth - Cryptic Writings

Megadeth - So Far, So Good… So What

MDC - Millions of Dead Cops

Billie Eilish - Happier Than Ever

Drug Toilet - Believe in Love EP

Hum - Downward is Heavenward

Atrahasis - Antediluvian Prophecies

Obliteration - Black Death Horizon

Obliteration - Necropsalms

Coroner - RIP

Autopsy - Mental Funeral

Ruun - Atheos EP

Nekromantheon - Rise, Vulcan Spectre

Condor - Unstoppable Power

[sarahbearah64]

someone: can you rap??

me: ya

me: Well, ya got trouble, my friend, right here, I say, trouble right here in River City. Why sure I'm a billiard player,certainly mighty proud I say I'm always mighty proud to say it.I consider that the hours I spend with a cue in my hand are golden.Help you cultivate horse sense and a cool head and a keen eye. Did ya ever take and try to give an iron-clad leave to yourself from a three-rail billiard shot? But just as I say, it takes judgement, brains, and maturity to score in a baulk line game,I say that any boob can take and shove a ball in a pocket. and they call that sloth the first big step on the road on the depths of deg-ra-Day. I say, first, medicinal wine from a teaspoon, then beer from a bottle. An' the next thing ya know, your son is playin' for money in a pinch-back suit. And listnin to some big out-a-town Jasper hearin' him tell about horse-race gamblin'. Not a wholesome trottin' race, no! But a race where they set down right on the horse! Like to see some stuck-up jockey'boy sittin' on Dan Patch? Make your blood boil? Well, I should say. Friends, let me tell you what I mean. You got one, two, three, four, five, six pockets in a table. Pockets that mark the difference between a gentlemen and a bum, with a capital "B," and that rhymes with "P" and that stands for pool! and all week long your River City

youth'll be frittern away, I say your young men'll be frittern! Frittern away their noontime, suppertime, choretime too! Get the ball in the pocket, Never mind gittin' dandelions pulled or the screen door patched or the beefsteak pounded.

Never mind pumpin' any water 'til your parents are caught with the cistern empty on a Saturday night and that's trouble,

oh, yes we got lots and lots a' trouble. I'm thinkin' of the kids in the knickerbockers, Shirt-tail young ones, peekin' in the pool hall window after school, ya got trouble, folks! Right here in River City. Trouble with a capital "T" and that rhymes with "P" and that stands for pool! Now, I know all you folks are the right kinda parents. I'm gonna be perfectly frank. Would ya like to know what kinda conversation goes

on while they're loafin' around that hall? They're tryin' out Bevo, tryin' out cubebs, tryin' out Tailor Mades like cigarette fiends! And braggin' all about how they're gonna cover up a tell-tale breath with Sen-Sen. One fine night, they leave the pool hall, headin' for the dance at the Arm'ry! Libertine men and Scarlet women! And Rag-time, shameless music! That'll grab your son and your daughter

with the arms of a jungle animal instinct! Mass-steria!

Friends, the idle brain is the devil's playground!

[tehzii]

someone: can you rap??

me: ya

me: Well, ya got trouble, my friend, right here, I say, trouble right here in River City. Why sure I'm a billiard player,certainly mighty proud I say I'm always mighty proud to say it.I consider that the hours I spend with a cue in my hand are golden.Help you cultivate horse sense and a cool head and a keen eye. Did ya ever take and try to give an iron-clad leave to yourself from a three-rail billiard shot? But just as I say, it takes judgement, brains, and maturity to score in a baulk line game,I say that any boob can take and shove a ball in a pocket. and they call that sloth the first big step on the road on the depths of deg-ra-Day. I say, first, medicinal wine from a teaspoon, then beer from a bottle. An' the next thing ya know, your son is playin' for money in a pinch-back suit. And listnin to some big out-a-town Jasper hearin' him tell about horse-race gamblin'. Not a wholesome trottin' race, no! But a race where they set down right on the horse! Like to see some stuck-up jockey'boy sittin' on Dan Patch? Make your blood boil? Well, I should say. Friends, let me tell you what I mean. You got one, two, three, four, five, six pockets in a table. Pockets that mark the difference between a gentlemen and a bum, with a capital "B," and that rhymes with "P" and that stands for pool! and all week long your River City

youth'll be frittern away, I say your young men'll be frittern! Frittern away their noontime, suppertime, choretime too! Get the ball in the pocket, Never mind gittin' dandelions pulled or the screen door patched or the beefsteak pounded.

Never mind pumpin' any water 'til your parents are caught with the cistern empty on a Saturday night and that's trouble,

oh, yes we got lots and lots a' trouble. I'm thinkin' of the kids in the knickerbockers, Shirt-tail young ones, peekin' in the pool hall window after school, ya got trouble, folks! Right here in River City. Trouble with a capital "T" and that rhymes with "P" and that stands for pool! Now, I know all you folks are the right kinda parents. I'm gonna be perfectly frank. Would ya like to know what kinda conversation goes

on while they're loafin' around that hall? They're tryin' out Bevo, tryin' out cubebs, tryin' out Tailor Mades like cigarette fiends! And braggin' all about how they're gonna cover up a tell-tale breath with Sen-Sen. One fine night, they leave the pool hall, headin' for the dance at the Arm'ry! Libertine men and Scarlet women! And Rag-time, shameless music! That'll grab your son and your daughter

with the arms of a jungle animal instinct! Mass-steria!

Friends, the idle brain is the devil's playground!

[lovelylorna]

someone: can you rap??

me: ya

me: Well, ya got trouble, my friend, right here, I say, trouble right here in River City. Why sure I'm a billiard player,certainly mighty proud I say I'm always mighty proud to say it.I consider that the hours I spend with a cue in my hand are golden.Help you cultivate horse sense and a cool head and a keen eye. Did ya ever take and try to give an iron-clad leave to yourself from a three-rail billiard shot? But just as I say, it takes judgement, brains, and maturity to score in a baulk line game,I say that any boob can take and shove a ball in a pocket. and they call that sloth the first big step on the road on the depths of deg-ra-Day. I say, first, medicinal wine from a teaspoon, then beer from a bottle. An' the next thing ya know, your son is playin' for money in a pinch-back suit. And listnin to some big out-a-town Jasper hearin' him tell about horse-race gamblin'. Not a wholesome trottin' race, no! But a race where they set down right on the horse! Like to see some stuck-up jockey'boy sittin' on Dan Patch? Make your blood boil? Well, I should say. Friends, let me tell you what I mean. You got one, two, three, four, five, six pockets in a table. Pockets that mark the difference between a gentlemen and a bum, with a capital "B," and that rhymes with "P" and that stands for pool! and all week long your River City

youth'll be frittern away, I say your young men'll be frittern! Frittern away their noontime, suppertime, choretime too! Get the ball in the pocket, Never mind gittin' dandelions pulled or the screen door patched or the beefsteak pounded.

Never mind pumpin' any water 'til your parents are caught with the cistern empty on a Saturday night and that's trouble,

oh, yes we got lots and lots a' trouble. I'm thinkin' of the kids in the knickerbockers, Shirt-tail young ones, peekin' in the pool hall window after school, ya got trouble, folks! Right here in River City. Trouble with a capital "T" and that rhymes with "P" and that stands for pool! Now, I know all you folks are the right kinda parents. I'm gonna be perfectly frank. Would ya like to know what kinda conversation goes

on while they're loafin' around that hall? They're tryin' out Bevo, tryin' out cubebs, tryin' out Tailor Mades like cigarette fiends! And braggin' all about how they're gonna cover up a tell-tale breath with Sen-Sen. One fine night, they leave the pool hall, headin' for the dance at the Arm'ry! Libertine men and Scarlet women! And Rag-time, shameless music! That'll grab your son and your daughter

with the arms of a jungle animal instinct! Mass-steria!

Friends, the idle brain is the devil's playground!

[whatsabriard]

someone: can you rap??

me: ya

me: Well, ya got trouble, my friend, right here, I say, trouble right here in River City. Why sure I'm a billiard player,certainly mighty proud I say I'm always mighty proud to say it.I consider that the hours I spend with a cue in my hand are golden.Help you cultivate horse sense and a cool head and a keen eye. Did ya ever take and try to give an iron-clad leave to yourself from a three-rail billiard shot? But just as I say, it takes judgement, brains, and maturity to score in a baulk line game,I say that any boob can take and shove a ball in a pocket. and they call that sloth the first big step on the road on the depths of deg-ra-Day. I say, first, medicinal wine from a teaspoon, then beer from a bottle. An' the next thing ya know, your son is playin' for money in a pinch-back suit. And listnin to some big out-a-town Jasper hearin' him tell about horse-race gamblin'. Not a wholesome trottin' race, no! But a race where they set down right on the horse! Like to see some stuck-up jockey'boy sittin' on Dan Patch? Make your blood boil? Well, I should say. Friends, let me tell you what I mean. You got one, two, three, four, five, six pockets in a table. Pockets that mark the difference between a gentlemen and a bum, with a capital "B," and that rhymes with "P" and that stands for pool! and all week long your River City

youth'll be frittern away, I say your young men'll be frittern! Frittern away their noontime, suppertime, choretime too! Get the ball in the pocket, Never mind gittin' dandelions pulled or the screen door patched or the beefsteak pounded.

Never mind pumpin' any water 'til your parents are caught with the cistern empty on a Saturday night and that's trouble,

oh, yes we got lots and lots a' trouble. I'm thinkin' of the kids in the knickerbockers, Shirt-tail young ones, peekin' in the pool hall window after school, ya got trouble, folks! Right here in River City. Trouble with a capital "T" and that rhymes with "P" and that stands for pool! Now, I know all you folks are the right kinda parents. I'm gonna be perfectly frank. Would ya like to know what kinda conversation goes

on while they're loafin' around that hall? They're tryin' out Bevo, tryin' out cubebs, tryin' out Tailor Mades like cigarette fiends! And braggin' all about how they're gonna cover up a tell-tale breath with Sen-Sen. One fine night, they leave the pool hall, headin' for the dance at the Arm'ry! Libertine men and Scarlet women! And Rag-time, shameless music! That'll grab your son and your daughter

with the arms of a jungle animal instinct! Mass-steria!

Friends, the idle brain is the devil's playground!