View allAll Photos Tagged Undeath
Blogging for a friends store (Dreadmorne), first time so sorry if I screw up something!
~*=Dreadmorne Items=*~
Left Arm: Dreadmorne Zemon Kit / Skinless mod
Brain / Monocle / Barnicles / Neck Bolts / Neck Incisions: All at the next Gacha Guild!
Souls
~*=Items list=*~
The Skull Itself: Rawl (The Angry Store)
Jacket: Hotdog Porcupine Jacket
Left Arm Wrap: L'Emporio&PL ::*Luctator*:
Left Elbow Wrap: Matova Arm Wraps
Body: Belleza Jake 2.0
~*=Unobtainable Items=*~
Strands of Hair (DECO)
Bandit Pants and Boots (DECO)
Padlock Necklace Gacha (DECO)
Punk Hair (Friends OC Hair)
Newly wed and newly dead! That is all you need to know about the Zombie Bride and Groom.
Alas, they never got to go on their honeymoon during life; the result of the Zombie Apocalypse happening on the same day as their wedding ceremony (very unlucky). It is a real shame; the Bride was far too busy worrying about place settings and if her father would get too drunk at the reception and make a pass at a Bridesmaids when she should have been worried about the freshly Zombiefied organist who was about to take a bite out of her and her new husband. “You may kiss the Bride” took on a whole new meaning that day!
Still, in death (or is that undeath?) they are finally heading out on their Honeymoon on their trusty Zombie Motorbike with side-car. A fortnight at the caravan in Skegness should do wonders for their complexion.
This was build to go in the banner of the Brick Fanatics Monster Fighters Vehicle Madness Competition.
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop.
Thronefall Expanse is a vast, wind-scoured field of ruin — broken thrones, shattered banners, and crowns half-buried in ash. It is where failed monarchs, forgotten sovereigns, and betrayed rulers drift as echoes. Here, loyalty lingers longer than memory, and duty outlives the living. Ancient vows hang in the air like tattered breath, and to speak them is to risk binding yourself to a history not your own.
Environment:
Endless plains of cracked stone and ceremonial platforms overgrown with regretweed.
Toppled statues whose faces erode but whose eyes remain clear.
Thrones, rusted and fractured, some whispering oaths when approached.
Echo-fog that moves like a royal procession, revealing glimpses of coronations long dead.
Obsidian obelisks etched with royal sigils — some are still bleeding light.
Dominant Themes:
Legacy without lineage
The burden of authority
Betrayal, sacrifice, forgotten justice
Creatures & Echoes:
Crownwraiths: Ghosts of rulers who died clinging to power; each carries a spectral regalia.
Oathbound: Warrior shades that still obey their final command, even in undeath.
Regret Lions: Spectral beasts with broken manes, guardians of loyalty misused.
The Herald of No Throne: A limping figure in royal garb with a shattered horn, endlessly announcing monarchs who never arrive.
Ritual Hazards:
Oath Echoing: Spoken promises may echo back rewritten, binding you.
Throne Binding: Sitting upon a fallen throne may awaken the loyalty of nearby dead — or the ire of those they once served.
Crown Memoryflash: Crowns, when touched, can force a vision of the bearer’s rise and ruin.
Anchor Quote:
“Every throne is a wound. Some still bleed.”
The tales of Leo Wayfarer and Damu the Kenku Assassin,as told by Leo to his Nephew Leto Collins (# 7 of 33)- Into the Jurka.
That bird and I saw a lot of weird shit in our days, some of it still keeps me up at night, most of all our very last job together, but some things we ran into weren't weird in a scary way, just in way that defies any sense. I dunno...but the world and it's truth is far more complicated then what we're taught,and you have to separate the things that really are true from the bullshit the Church and the Military feeds the public to hold our culture together. Don't get me wrong, I still love Regentum, even after all these years. I believe in a God, but not the church or the Emperor. What's important to me about Regentum is that it's perhaps the only place in the world where a common, regular person can receive the benefits of their own hard work. Everywhere I've ever been I've only seen masters and servants. The Dwarves are good to one another, perhaps even better then we in Regentum are. But in Rolheim the Dwarves have a very set and rigid way of life. You're stuck in the position you're born into, but no Dwarf suffers or is destitute. Here in Regentum if you're born poor you can do something about it. Other Human nations that aren't our Colonies, forget it. That's why so many foreigners become Pirates. It's better to be a Pirate then the serf of some Sultan in Lu' Hadej, toil the years by on a Brenendale fishing ship, live under constant war in the mess of Alson, or slave away under some Monk in Nijiro.
After I got out of the Army like a lot of guys I was pretty jaded with all the shit talking about conquering the world for light and law and all that sort of talk. Our leaders fight for money and power and cull troops from the ranks of our working poor after getting them hyped up on religion. I mean look, they take these kids, they start at age fifteen, and all these boys are either from farming villages, or some industrial slum. You take a kid like that who hasn't got much of a future and you tell him that he'll be trained to fight for holy order, and that he will be special, that he will individually play a vital role in shaping the future of the empire and he buys it. Like me and yours Pops. We knew it was either the army, the docks, the factories or jail. It's ugly that it takes a large degree of smoke and mirrors to hold Regentum together, but its better then everywhere else out there.
Anyhow after Damu and I took out that Goblin leader Ertu we were in good standing with the Military as skilled mercenaries who were good at eliminating specific targets that were loose ends they needed cleaned up. It took those motherfuckers less then a month before I got a knock at the door from a Army courier with a new bounty contract in one hand, and a sack of gold in the other. I hadn't even yet spent all my money from before.
I was told that the Military needed a new way to send food supplies to all the troops the world over because the cost of doing so was getting too high due to the sheer number of troops we now how have the world over. Traditionally the food either came from local sources, or was shipped in by merchants with government contracts. The Military hired Wizard-Engineers to design a new system of providing troops with enough food in a cheaper way. So they applied the idea of the factory to the slaughter house. Along the road way between Salsburg and Fieldsview a big warehouse was built in which cattle was slaughtered in mass by huge killing machines and the meat cured, salted and prepped for shipping.
Some Druid freaked out about this place and attacked it. Around this time the Army was routing out a large strike force of the Derago Tribe of Hobgoblins. The Deragos' got their asses handed to them and broke up into a bunch of small rag-tag units. The Druid trashed the place pretty good, and the report in my contract didn't mention as to what happened to the Druid or who he was. Troops, Engineers, Craftsman and supply laden Merchants were quickly sent in to get the Meat Factory up and running. All of these sitting ducks alone along the highway caught the eye of a squad of Derago Hobgoblins who in turn decided to take their own stab at the meat factory. We were asked to find the leader of the Squad, a Hobgoblin named Jahghu Khazul and kill him. The Army in the area was still busy chasing down the bulk of the Derago forces, and had them pinned way up north almost to Rolhiem.
This time around we bought our own wagon and horse rather then catching a ride with a caravan. A nice light brown horse I never got the chance to name or get attached to. After the mission I ended up loosing our horse in a dice game on the way back to Scardale to this skinny toothless drunk in a bar in Salsburg. Damu was pissed off about it, and he laughed at me the whole way home.
Most of the trip there was easy, if even a little boring. We had to go this round about way to get there as there was no highway that went directly there and I didn't want to chance getting shook down with Damu in tow. But even playing by the book we got caught up in some shit. Between Nolos and Salsburg we got stopped by a Polly squad. One of them saw us in Nolos when we stopped for supplies and bitched to the others about a Kenku moving around the interior. Even though the eastern end of Regentum is thought of as being more religiously tolerant then out west, its just that out west they think of themselves as superior given that they eastern region was conquered and absorbed into the Empire. Really everyone in the Empire outside of the big coastal cities clings very firmly to our Religion and its accompanying prejudices. I caught a lot of shit over the years for having a Kenku for a friend.
5 of these pricks rode up on us, battle standards held all high, pole arms drawn, you know the whole fucking works. Big fucking fags in their shinny armor demanding to know what me and the Bird were up to. I held out the contract with the army guys in Scardale and was like, "Were here to do your dirty work". Some big prissy bitch, Sir Halton kept scrutinizing me, being like, "How can I keep the company of a Heathen animal?", and how legal or otherwise "To bring such a foul creature into the interior was an affront to the holy sanctity of our beloved empire". Typical Paladin fag shit. Fuck them. The mercenary rabble were here to wipe their ass because they were too important to do it themselves. Damu maybe a local legend here in Scardale, but out in the country or in the eyes of the Church he was scum.
When we got to the Meat factory there was a bunch of workers busting their asses to fix it, a few merchants and rich Gnomes, some solders, and some hired swords keeping an eye on the place. The ruined factory buildings had maze of scaffolding towering up their crumbling walls, and about the area around them was a decent sized encampment. Various tents dotted the place, though one could clearly tell the difference between tents belonging to the workers, the merchants, the troops and the mercenaries. Worker tents were drab though orderly. The tents of the business men were lined with velvet and furs. The Army tents had various standards embroidered to them, and the mercenary tents were both drab and disorderly. Also they were off to the side of everyone else. I saw a big, ugly mother fucker around the Merc tents, both too big and too ugly to be completely human, but not a Half-Orc. I saw he wore the spiked gauntlets common to Gladiators and figured he must of been a half-breed slave who fought his away from to freedom from the fighting pits. Still fighting on behalf of the gold of the rich, but at least the deal was more in his favor. I hope anyway. One of the other mercs there was this guy Ramalti, a big guy with a shaved head and thick curled mustache. I knew him from the army. Once we fought Pirates together off the coast of Fazas. After checking in with the Captain of the place, we set up camp with Ramalti.
Ramalti had a huge pile of furs arranged under a high posted canopy and laid around a fire with a few extra skinned rabbits cooking. We caught up on things for a hour or so, though I could tell he didn't like that I had Damu with me, though he didn't say anything.Ramalti told me his last gig was doing a hit for people who were part of Snake-Worshiping cult and that he was glad to be away from them. Said that they used pit fighting for a front and had a lot of weird orgies. Didn't seem too bad to me but he warned me to stay away if they ever approached us.
Damu was fidgety, which was unnerving given how calm how usually was, something was up. The small talk between Ramalti and I was broken when Damu asked flatly, "Tell us about the Hobgoblins around here, we are here kill to Jahghu Kazul". It was an awkward moment. Ramalti gave Damu a stern look and me a half stern half worried look and was like, "Yea Kazul, yea he's around these ways, or should be. Last we knew anyway. Look let me tell you guys a few things about this job. The moneyed people here have their head up their ass and all they want to know is when this place will up and running again. Don't listen to them. The military guys are here to watch them. They're only gonna tell you half of what you need to know. Something weird is going on out in the fields. Animals have been acting strange. On patrols at night I've seen bolts of color and light off in the distance, and one night while following what was the tracks of two small feet, they abruptly shifted into the paw prints of a 4 legged creature."
I looked over at Ramalti and he handed me a wine skin, "Also have you two heard of an area called the Jurka?", he asked. "No", Damu replied. Damu didn't know much beyond city life, or even beyond life in Scardale. He was always a tad out of his element on missions like this. Though to be honest I never heard of it either. It is a creepy place we found. "The Jurka", Ramalti said, "is an ugly, sunken scar of land sunken and wide, but also consisting of many hills, little rivers, creeks and the occasional murky swamp lake. It is a lonely and windy stretch of land of irregular width, but hundreds of miles in length. Jurka is Goblin for 'the crack'. Most Goblins and Hobgoblins avoid the place, though I've been told that some powerful Hobgoblin Warlords are buried there.The Gobos say the place is cursed as its not naturally occurring. Something deep below the ground they claim cracked the land open centuries ago. It's not on any known maps, nor mentioned in any journals. For a distinct land mass so big that's very strange. Someone must not want it to be known."
Damu laughed, "I don't care about any cracks or secrets any Hairies keep from each other. We're here for Jahghu Kazul, that's all that matters."
Right before dawn we were woken up to screams and commotions. The first thing I saw upon waking were 4 foxes a few feet away from me. I laughed at first, but when I stood up I realized the place was over run with foxes. Foxes and geese. They were every where, howling and running amok. It would have been funny if it weren't so out of place and deliberate seeming. No one knew what to do and it I think because of that it was really freaking a lot of them out.
Quickly then I saw a fox stare it me. It had a bloody muzzle and in its mouth was a blood-stained pointed Gnome hat. I pointed over to Damu and he quickly drew an arrow and shot the fox. As I ran towards the fox its shape contorted and elongated. By the time my sword was swinging directly at it the fox it had become a tall skinny guy with long matted hair down past his ass, a long matted beard, and just a loin cloth on. His eyes seemed distant yet driven by some equally remote purpose. The Wild Man rolled out of the way. I saw that his hands were glowing and all of a sudden vines grew quickly up from the ground, like water being poured from a bottle, that were wrapping up around my legs. He smiled without humor at this and pulled the arrow Damu Shot him with out of his shoulder. Blood squirted out and a chunk of meat flopped over from the wound.
What looked like a large, stocky Goblin but still not a Hobgoblin walked up to the Wild Man just as he was picking up the bloody Gnome hat. The Wild Man looked over at the strange Goblin and spoke, "This will do. The Dwarves and the Gnomes are just as bad as these Regentum people. The Gnomes maybe even more so. They hide behind their money and get Humans to do their dirty work." The Goblin-thing didn't seemed to care too much, but they never had the chance to debate the matter. Ramalti and Damu charged the two. Ramalti carried a large spiked mace that he swung down towards the head of the Goblin. Catching the creatures cap, but not its head, the Goblin leaped up in the air far higher then a Goblin should be able to leap, and landed on top of Ramalti biting him in the neck. The vines wrapped tighter around my legs and I was worried that my legs would shatter under the strain. Damu threw his dagger straight into the gut of the Wild Man with one hand, and slashed across his face with his sword with the other. The Wild Man fell back, holding his guts into his stomach. The slash across his face caused his nose to dangle and his cheek to flop open. I think some teeth were missing or dangling by tiny threads of mouth meat in his beard. The ground around us burst into flame. Damu leaped out of the way, and Ramalti was still struggling with the creature wrapped around his neck and head. Me, I stuck my legs in the fire and burned away the vines. It was painful, but not as painful as my legs being crushed.
Quickly I tried to stand, but I stumbled as I got up. The Wild Man rushed with his hands transformed into large green glowing claws. A claw jabbed towards my head, but I ducked under it, and swooped my sword upwards and into and out of his chest. The fire abruptly stopped. The Goblin creature jumped off of Ramalti and by the time it hit the ground it transformed into some strange mix of Goblin and Wolf. Later on Damu said such creatures were called Barghests. Whatever it was it took off running. Soon all the Foxes and Geese went away.
The Captain and his men surrounded the Wild Man. I was confused at first because they bound his body in shackles, as why exactly they would bound up a corpse, but my confusion quickly turned to anger as the poured a healing potion down the mother fuckers throat. I screamed out at them, "What the fuck are you doing? He's a Witch, leave him dead! I'm not killing him again unless I get paid extra." Which funny enough we did get paid twice for killing that guy. Turns out he was the crazed Druid who attacked the Meat-Factory in the first place. Gharuun the Druid, wanted across eastern Regentum for various acts of terrorism, spreading blasphemy, and other crimes against the Empire. Around the camp I heard that Gharuun was once the Son of a rich industrialist family out of Tardon. He was supposedly once Francis Applemoore, a scion of a blue-blood family who went insane around the time his family fell to controversy. If I recall right, I think actually the Applemoore's owned a factory outside of Tardon that accidentally poisoned a near-by river with mercury, killing hundreds of peasant-folk, and making many more sick.Butt-Boy Sir Halton and his squad of Knights showed up to interrogate Gharuun and bring him to Elaine for execution, but not until after they kissed Gnome ass. The Gnomes and the Human Merchants were grieving over the loss of the Gnome Harov Goldstein and his money (which the Barghest apparently got away with).
It was found out after a day of torture that Gharuun was working with Jahghu Kazul and his forces out of the Jurka because of mutual animosity towards Regentum. The whole "the enemy of my enemy" bit. Gharuun was bothered by industrialization and by it being this far into the interior of the country-side. Admittedly on that part Gharuun was perhaps right, I myself hate to admit that I agreed with a Druid, but while I grew up in the city surrounded by factories and industry, I've always valued the clean greenery of the country side when I've traveled through it.I could see how he ended up a Druid after coming from a family who's factory poisoned the land. I'd hate to our beautiful country side ruined just to make people like Harov Goldstein rich. Jahghu Kazul however could give two shits either way. Gharuun didn't want loot and worked for free. Gharuun was a zealot, violence for his religion was its own reward. Kazul was a raider and aspiring Warlord. He only valued money and brute force.
That night Damu and I rode into the Jurka.
The very southern most portion of the Jurka came to a tapered tip and sloped down at an easy descent. It really did look like a sunken crack in the earth, as if here the world split open and then was over grown over the ensuing years. A creek ran along the bottom of the valley. We decided for the time being not to go directly into the Jurka but to follow along its western edge, at least until dawn. By dawn we saw that the creek had grown considerably in size further up stream, and off the near distance was a waterfall with what looked like an old, abandoned ruined mill next to it.
Damu scouted out the ruin and it was clear. We camped out there for a few hours. Not even bothering to unravel my bed roll, I just laid on top of a concrete slab and rested my head on my bag. In my nap I had a strange dream about a grand mother living in the mill with her grand children and a giant frog that moved into the water fall that ate her kids. I woke up and didn't want to find out if that was true or not, so I shook Damu awake and we got going.
As dawn rose, the whole of the Jurka was blanketed in an early morning foggy-mist and lit in a pale glow. The place has a strange beauty, yet something is noticeably unsettling about it. Everything is a bit off, and nature with in it goes in unusual courses. During that morning ride along the Jurka Damu and I saw aquatic rabbits. I shit you not, we saw water-rabbits, long and skinny, with wide flat feet and light green fur. Maybe they couldn't breathe the water, but we saw rabbits hopping from land and into water, swimming frantically down stream, and back out again.
By late afternoon we caught sight of fresh tracks that looked like the hoof-prints of the giant boars that the Hobgoblins ride heading from the west and northbound into the Jurka directly. We left our horse and wagon there and headed in. As we did we stopped to consider tactics. We both had fought Hobgoblins but they had numbers on us. Plus we we're only after one of them. The Hobgoblin raiders of the northern plains I have a respect for. On their Boar-Mounts they are deadly. They have a unique style of Calvary tactics that is very different from how we, or the Elves, etc. would use typically fight on horse back. They fight almost like a pack of wild animals, and use hit and run tactics with ruthless efficiency. When I was in the army I fought with units charged with taking out Hobgoblins on a few occasions. While we always won, it was only because of superior numbers. For every raider we took they easily took 6 to 8 of our men. You have to use traps and guerrilla tactics on them, as a blow to blow fight always came with heavy losses.
So we decided that we would try to locate them, then set up what ever traps we could near by, and hopefully lure them in. I knew Damu carried all sorts of nastiness is in his bag. He always came equipped for a millions forms of murder. Though I learned a lot from him in those years. When I first met him I still fought like a soldier as I still thought like a soldier after years in the army. On our first two missions he taught me the difference between fighting and killing. He was a killer born and bred, I was a warrior who learned also to be a killer. I still had to do most of the blow to blow work when it was necessary. But he was right. We didn't fight for honor, or duty we did this work just for money, so it doesn't make sense to take a lot of risks when you're a mercenary.
Right before night fall we came upon a hilly area with-in the Jurka that rang out with a low, droning, moaning sound that seemed to wrap around the area with the wind. It all seemed very somber and morbid. The hills about the place each had various oblong obelisks on top. I stopped to check one out. It had markings on it that neither of us could read and was made of a strange purple-black stone. The pillar had holes carved into it which when wind blew through it created the moaning sounds the carried through this mournful place. At the base of this pillar was a regular limestone slab carved out in Gobbely which read, "Kufaza Derago". This place was a series of Hobgoblin burial mounds! Where they got the strange obelisks, I don't know, but they didn't look like they were carved from the hands of any Goblinoid. Whatever their origin I was glad for them for the sounds they made would provide us some cover.
Damu quickly grabbed my side and motioned me to duck down. In the haze of the setting sun I saw the silhouette of a Goose. "That's not a real Bird, that Druid escaped", he whispered to me as he drew his bow. Sure enough two hills over the goose landed by a mound and quickly shifted its form into that Gharuun. He looked in bad shape. Good, it'd be easier to kill him again. Damu snuck in closer, hugging the shadows between hills, but keeping Gharuun with in constant bow shot. I drank two potions, one to move far more swiftly then I could and another that made shadows wrap around me. He motioned to me to get in position to attack after he attacked first. I saw him dip his arrow head into a little jar of something nasty, plus his arrows heads were not only enchanted, but carved in a way that did even more damage when you pulled them out. Gharuun was kneeling before an Obelesk and had started to perform some sort of ritual when Damu fired a shot through his back and out his chest.
Leaping up the hill I was almost knocked over as the air rippled waves of force in all directions from out of Gharuun. I saw his glowing hands touch the wound and seal it. But with the arrow still stuck through him. Hopefully the healing spell he cast on himself didn't take out the poison on the arrow as well. Mother Fucker. It started to rain like mad out of no where, and Damu got knocked over by huge gusts of wind. Gharuun laughed at me as I swung my sword at his head. He ducked, and swung up with a wooden staff that caught me on the chin. I spit blood in his face and swung again. And missed again. For a crazy naked guy he moved like a fucking tiger, I'll give him that. Then I saw that next to the mound a hole was dug. I quickly figured that if this was a burial mound it was a freshly dug grave. Good. I deliberately made a shitty swing towards him again, and made an equally deliberate shitty attempt to dodge the counter blow from his staff. It hit me in the chest, and I acted like it
really knocked me on my ass as I fell towards the hole. Never, ever gloat over somebody in a fight. As I lay there in the pouring rain, Gharuun stood over me grinning with some violent yet distant look in his eyes. I have no idea where his mind really was, nor will I ever find out for in that moment I grabbed him and pulled us both down into the hole, impaling him with my sword as well hit the bottom. I stood up and saw Damu on top of the hole making a cut off his head gesture. Breathing heavy I nodded in agreement, As I tossed the head up to Damu the rain abruptly stopped.
Something picked Damu's eyes in the distance. He paused and pulled out a periscope, "Hobgoblins, about 5 of them on Boars are coming this way, yet two are pulling a cart carrying something covered in blankets. The lead rider looks important. I bet it's Jahghu Kazul. We have maybe 30 minutes before they see us." It wasn't enough time to get too elaborate with traps. The mud from the magic storm was at least helpful. Out of his side bag, Damu pulled out 4 claw traps and buried them in the mud along the hill. I was hoping for enough time to dig pit traps, they work wonders on mounted attackers. Flint, oil flasks, and trip wires would have to do. Damu made a few fire bombs and handed me one. We hunkered down on the edge other side of the hill as we listened to them ride up. I stuck my flint to light my fire bomb as the sounds of boar-snorts grew louder. I heared the distinct metal snap of a claw trap over top the awful wailing of the obelisks and the roar of a boar bred to gigantic proportions. I through the fire bomb, and heard screams in Gobbley. It was on.
Damu ran around the edge of the hill top to the left and I to right. I saw him shoot a quick burst of arrows that caught a boar in the gut and it's rider in the eye. A boar big enough for a Hobgoblin to ride is a boar big enough to bite someone as small as Damu clean in half. Those things are damn near the size of horses- not as tall, but way wider and sturdier.
Another Boar-mounted Hobgoblin charged at me swinging a morning star as his mount aimed its tusks at me. I quickly saw this was really a feint, as a bigger and badder looking Hobgoblin behind him was drawing his bow down on me. I let the first rider charge me, then I quickly dropped down on my back. It lept over me and I stabbed upwards into its belly, disemboweling the beast, but caught an arrow in my leg in return. Two Hobgoblins on foot were pulling the cart the last of the way on foot. The traps took out their mounts. The rider who's mount I killed swung his morning star down at me, and caught me in the gut, though the spikes only poked me a little bit, my armor took most of the blow. The bigger and badder looking Hobgoblin, whom I quickly figured was Jahghu Kazul was still on his mount and was calmly drawing another bow shot. Fuck the nobody with the morning star, I ran straight for Jahghu.
He leaped off his mount and ran out at me with this really nice, sleek battle axe. He caught me in the left shoulder with it and across my abdomen. I kicked him the shin, and as he stumbled Damu caught him in the neck with an arrow. As he Jahghu hesitated from the arrow shot I swiped across the chest, and down again taking of his left leg right below the knee. Morning star guy swung over from behind me and caught me in the right shoulder. Damu threw his dagger right through morning star guy's throat and I finished off Jahghu Kazul as he lay there bleeding. I took the axe and Jahghu Kazul's helmet. The thing was silver with all these fancy ivory horns. He had large key around his kneck tied with thick leather cord. I took that figuring it had to do with the whatever was under the blankets in the carts. Maybe they were leaving an offering to a recently dead Chieftain I thought. Nothing really could have prepared me for what was under there.
The two Hobgoblins pulling the cart up the hill managed to get what was in the cart off of it just before Damu killed them with a rain of arrows. It sat before the hole. We looted the Hobgoblin bodies and dumped them all in the hole with Gharuun, minus the head of Jahghu Kazul. As we started to peel layers of blankets back from what was under the them, we could start to see a glowing green light come from underneath them. I paused, and Damu's feathers stood on end. I started to feel something or someone around us, and I was immediately knocked back ten feet. I felt like I was just hit in the chest with a boulder. I think ribs broke. I could hardly breathe. As I stood up Damu screeched and pulled back the rest of the blankets.
I told you this mission was a weird one. Beneath the blankets was a big round glass jar mounded on a shinny black base, and capped with an ornate black metal lid complete with a key hole, filled with a glowing green, bubbling liquid that inside floated a large misshapen brain.Worst of all it spoke. "Where is Jahghu Kazul?", we heard a low voice speak from all directions. The Kenku practice black arts and Damu was privy to a lot of creepy shit because of what his clan did, but I could tell he was completely dumbfounded by this talking Brain in a Jar. Damu lifted up Jahghu's head and pressed it to the glass of the jar, "He's dead. We killed him." Balls of steel that bird had, even when confronted with something like this. "Where is the key that he wore around his neck?", demanded the Brain in the Jar. The thing had power, whatever the fuck it was. But it had no legs and so broken ribs or not I decided to play my hand heavy figuring that sense I had legs and the Jar did not I could run. I strode over to it with the key in hand, taunting it, "I have it but if you try that shit again I'll break it!". It made a hissing sound and the liquid inside bubbled. "Very well, what do you want?", it responded.
Damu spoke up, "What are you, why do these Hobgoblins have you and why are you here with them to meet the Druid Gharuun?"
"Very well then, I will you tell my story and then in exchange you will help bring my story to an end. I am or at least I was Draaza Kazul, Hobgoblin Shaman of Derago Tribe. I was Jahghu's Uncle. The Derago are in the employment of another race you Humans and you Kenku know nothing of. They are a foul and terrible race that dwell in deep caverns under the mountains west of Rolheim. There they plot the destruction and enslavement of all the world above and practice rites and foul sorcery so black and alien even I am aghast at the cosmic scope of their horror. Needless to say its better that you don't know this race. Many of us regret the pact our ancestors made with them in order to gain an edge over our rival tribe the Kulshychi Hobgoblins who serve the Hidden Lords of the City of Bayport. Secret wars have been waged for generations now between the shadows of Regentum and Rolheim, wars on both your edges, indifferent to the whims of Human and Dwarf. This place we call the Jurka is a casualty of that war."
This certainly I wasn't going to tell the army when we collected our bounty. On a few missions I've stumbled on to schemes and plots on a scale I tend to avoid. I'll save that shit for the military and the good guys. If this wasn't bad enough already, the Jar went on.
"Some where between these uncontested lands, close to Manas as well, there is reputed to be the stronghold of an Elven-Wizard recluse of significant prowless. I led the mission to find this Stronghold so the Derago could raid it secure the Wizards secrets for those we serve. I failed the first time and as punishment those whom the Derago serve did this did me. With in this jar they said my occult powers would be strong enough to find the Elf-Mages location, which in fact was true, but it was obvious they intended it also to be a punishment for my failure. They locked me in this state of chemical undeath. Nothing pleases a proud Hobgoblin more, other then perhaps the din of battle and the cries of fleeing enemies, then then feel of wind across his face as he rides across these vast, rolling ancestral plains on his beloved Boar mount. I did find the location of the stronghold and a great legion of Derago were called together from across the plains, and from under the earth out of the dark subterranean cities of our employers where we our are numbers are bred like cattle by our employers who have tricked us and are becoming our masters. I dread the day when these creatures have enslaved our race entirely for those bred by them will out number our proud and freeborn numbers with in a few generations. Foolishly we gave them our weak and disgraced thinking they would merely eat them, for they live on the brains of other races, but instead from these few they are raising a region of war-fodder. But as our collective force rode out to the tower we were spotted the forces of Regentum and Guidane. They broke our advance and scattered our numbers. While I have no love for Humans or your culture I am grateful that they foiled this raid. I dread to think of what power lurked in the fortress of that Elven-Wizard that those below, who already are the masters of countless volatile magics, would go to great lengths to capture it, and what they would do with it. I was to be brought here to be buried, what is left of me anyway, to be laid to rest, free of this nightmare undeath, in a proper repose fitting of noble born Hobgoblin reunited with his ancestors. The Druid, a traitor to his kind I'm told, I have mixed feelings about that, was to clean any taint of necromancy that may pollute my remains. It's too late for that now, as I assume you killed him as well. My last request is that you take the key you took from my Nephew's body, unseal my Jar-Prison and bury me with-in the mound."
I looked down at Damu, he shrugged in agreement. I didn't want to fight again if I didn't have to. I had only one healing potion on me and I needed it already. As I unsealed the Jar the sound the moaning obelisks grew to a great roar. A great burst of green-light erupted from the inside and I heard a great loud sigh of relief coming from its voice. In my minds I quickly saw a vision of tall thin beings in ornate robes with pasty pale sickly skin and faces of tentacles. I hoped I never saw such creatures again and it wasn't until our very last mission together that we ever saw any. Years later we saw the very dark truth that the Brain in the Jar that was once Draaza Kazul told us that night on the burial mound deep in the Jurka. As I pulled the brain out and carried it to the hole I saw what looked like a wispy and translucent image of a Hobgoblin adorned with all manner of ritual fetishes and symbols emerge out of the Jar. The image nodded to me and as I tossed it in we heard the ghost of Draaza Kazul say ,"Thank you".
Tired and wounded we hoped that we could make it back to the abandoned mill. I drank my healing potions as we walked into the night back the way we came. Once we were away from the sounds of the obelesks we could could hear yelling and galloping hooves in the distance. We weren't out of the mess yet. A few hours into things, perhaps a hour or two before dawn, Damu paused for a second then I heard a thudding sound as he dropped. An arrow was in his hip, and it was too dark out to tell where it was coming from.Worst off all we back on the edge of the Jurka, out on open plains with no cover. I saw two big lumbering bodies rushing towards me. I ran head long towards them and swung wildly. Two huge Bugbear berzerkers, shock troops for the Hobgoblin raiders. The Barghest had returned and it was on top of Damu! The Bugbears were all fur and muscle and armed with huge spiked clubs. Their eyes glowed a feint yellow in the dark, and they seemed consumed with a frenzied blood lust. Even still I thought I could take them, though with berzerkers of any sort you have to be careful because they'll hut themselves just to hurt you more.
I hate that Humans are damn near the only race that can't see in the dark. Thinking of that I kicked dirt in the face of one Bugbear right as the other swung down his club with both hands. It missed and I stepped on the club, leaped up and swung my sword deep into its neck and collar bone. It fell, and rolled over. The other grabbed in both its hands, making me drop my sword and it lifted me up in an effort to bite my head. I head butted it with my spiked helmet and dazed it for a second. I gutted it with a dagger and it swiped my face with its claws, leaving me with a cut from under my left eye and across my cheek to my jaw line. The other Bugbear got up and I grabbed my sword. It ran full force at me with a bone shiv and I held my ground, but ducked out the way as it went pass me and down into the Jurka. Sadly it was only ten feet to the bottom. The other Bugbear went towards the Barghest. Damu was pretty beat up. I saw him limping and holding his stomach in one hand and swinging his sword in the other. The Barghest was in wolf-thing form and its mouth drooled with a mess of feathers and blood.
Damu could do a bit of magic but he hated to do so. Not that he had a problem with magic, but he prided himself on his talents as an assassin so much that he only used such things as a last resort. Like there in that tight spot cornered between the Barghest and the approaching Bugbear. He chanted something to himself and leaped twenty feet away and over the head of the Bugbear, which he slashed wide open as he went by. As the Bugbear's skull split open I charged the Barghest and ran it through. It shriveled and shifted back into its stocky Goblin shape at the end of my blade. Damu came back and looked over the edge into the Jurka and laughed, "Hey Leo look at that!". Down in the Jurka I saw an albino frog the size of a barrel eating the insides of other Bugbear. Shit the dream was real after all! Lord that place was creepy! We made it to our horse and Damu limped into the Wagon. He was in bad shape, but he'd make it, however shitty the ride would be.
When we got back the encampment in sorry shape the Paladins were gloating at the mess we were in but shut the fuck up when we presented the heads of both Jahghu Kazul and Gharuun. I demanded that we get paid twice for in fact killing Gharuun twice, something the Pollies didn't manage to do once. Which we did, and I managed to negotiate a healing for Damu, though they really didn't want to do that. We had Sir Halton sign and dip a wax seal in our work papers saying we had completed the task at hand so we didn't have to travel all that way carrying severed heads. All in all it was a good mission with no complaints.
In regards of burying what remained of Draaza Kazul I think in this case I did the right thing. It felt right, and despite of the circumstances of why I was there in the first place, I did feel like the burial mounds were in their own way a holy and sacred spot. Don't let the Clerics know I said that, but like I said, in spite of how many Hobgoblins I sent to their ancestors over the years, I do respect them. Maybe the plains of the uncontested regions are better off left in the hands of Goblinoids and crazed Druids. Better then in the hands of Gnomes and equally greedy Humans that will poison the untouched land with factories. Though like Draaza Kazul I dread the day when those below have grown their Hobgoblin slave armies to numbers vast enough to lay waste to our nation. The masters of the Derago have a name for themselves, but as I learned from the Dwarves of Rolheim they are called Mind-Flayers by others. I learned from the one time I went to Rolheim that much of our own history that we are taught is heavily watered down by the Church.
We are taught that the earth is base and profane and that's why Bestial races who come from out of the earth rather then on top of it- Orcs, Ogres, Goblinoids, etc.- inherently have a greater predisposition towards evil. That's not completely true I've learned. These races come from wild, untamed places and are more like animals. Certainly an Orc is dumb and vicious and that viciousness easily favors things we would call evil, but it's nature is more like a hungry Wolf then it is Demonic. Also while they all dig burrows, tunnels, or live in ruins or caves, they live off of the land. They don't live underground. However there are things that live underground, deep underground and these things certainly are evil. But they are evil in a way to that is a mirror to us and that is why the Church hides their existence. There are races down below that are intelligent, build cities and have cultures, though horrific nightmare cultures left buried below. While I was in Rolheim I learned that the 1298 war of Stockdon wasn't really led by a Dragon and its forces. The Dragon served the Mind-Flayers. A small number of them in fact. Rolheim has a long history of waring with these Mind-Flayers.
Anyway, I know that a lot of the work Damu and I did was part of a bigger plan for Regentum to clear out dangers from the wild areas so that industry could be moved deeper into the interior. We were the first generation of a legion of hired swords set out to do dirty work with big business and industry moving quickly behind us. They hire young mercenaries now more then ever. I just hope that its all towards a good end. I don't want Regentum to turn into an Empire of billowing smoke stacks and loud grinding factories. If it were up to the rich the whole country would look like the factory slums of Scardale. I see the guys coming in here boasting of their exploits wanting to blow their gold on my beer and the girls I keep around here. I earned and lost fortunes a few times over to taverns and prostitutes that I know now in my fifties that it's better to be standing behind the bar then sitting in front of it. I hear the kids are getting a lot of work clearing out areas out west for the new railroad and that by the time I'm dead it'll connect Elaine with Scardale. But the government really doesn't know whats lurking out there. Some of them do, the Rangers do, but their the dirtiest bunch of crooks you'll ever run into and they'll never tell the Army, the Church and certainly not the Palladins. We have more to worry about then mere Pirates, Bandits and Goblinoid Raiders.
But if the monsters and other horrors out there don't ruin us the Gnomes and big business will.
"I serve the universe no more. I serve another force that has crept into my being and shown me the unfathomable power within the frigid vacuum of space." The Scarred Guardian
History
War of Light
One of the Guardians of the Universe revived by Kyle Rayner when he recharged the Central Power Battery, this Guardian participated in their attack on the Anti-Monitor during the Sinestro Corps War.
She was grabbed by the Anti-Monitor, who seriously burned her. Although she could theoretically heal her body with the help of the other Guardians, she has refused to do so, stating that it serves as a reminder of the Guardians' past arrogance and inaction.
She also became increasingly militant with regards to the rise of the Lantern Corps and the possibility of the Blackest Night. She was part of the diplomatic mission to Zamaron, where she was particularly aggressive with the Zamarons. Following the mission's failure, the Scarred Guardian proposed that the Guardians illegalize romantic relationships between members of the Green Lantern Corps, an act which lead to the resignation of dozens of Lantern couples.
Blackest Night
However, the Scarred Guardian's real goal was not the prevention of the Blackest Night, but its realization. While she was burned by the Anti-Monitor, she was exposed to the power behind the Black, and sought to ally with it.
She assigned Ash, the Green Lantern of Sector 650, on a secret mission to locate the Anti-Monitor's corpse. Additionally, she also assigned Saarek to try and communicate with the spirit of the Anti-Monitor to facilitate in recovering the corpse.
She has done these things without the knowledge of the Guardians of the Universe, even communicating with the Lanterns while in the other Guardians presence. The Scarred Guardian also appeared to leak information on Sinestro's transfer to Korugar to the Sinestro Corps, allowing them to launch a rescue mission.
Soon, she began withdrawing into the bowels of Oa to look at the Book of the Black, a book which contained prophecies on the people of Earth, who would be a major threat to the Black.
When Larfleeze declared his treaty with the Guardians void over the Controllers' actions, Scar saw a new opportunity to further the War of Light. She presented a motion to repeal the ban on the Vega system and the plan for the Guardians themselves to become more personally involved with the conflict.
When the Guardians left for Vega, Vice of the Red Lantern Corps was captured and placed in the sciencells. Planning to use him to split Oa in half, Scar freed Vice of the muzzle preventing him from spewing the acidic blood in his veins, then freed the Qwardian Power Rings that the Green Lanterns had been capturing, sending them to the Sinestro Corps members held in the sciencells.
During the breakout, the Sinestro soldier Lyssa Drak felt her way into the Bowels of Oa and located the Book of the Black. Unaware of Scar's presence, Scar took Lyssa by the head and slammed it literally into the book. Turning a page, Scar says only "I hope you enjoy the view from in there", as Lyssa looks out from a page in horror. Following this, Scar used the power of the Black to shatter the protective barrier around Oa.
Following the sciencell riot, the Guardians were observing the state of the Universe as the War of Light raged on.
The Guardians realized that Ganthet was correct in his interpretation of the prophecy, and that the Blackest Night would occur. They then noticed a shadow spreading from Sector 666, and decided to recall the Green Lanterns to Oa to prepare for an attack.
Scar, however, attacked the Guardians, killing one by tearing his heart out. Imprisoning the Guardians in her black blood, Scar explained that the Anti-Monitor's attack had not just burned her, it had poisoned her, killing her slowly and allowing her to come under the influence of the Black. Scar said that the Black Lantern Corps would succeed where the Green Lantern Corps and the Manhunters failed and bring order to the universe by destroying all life in it.
Powers and Abilities
Powers
Green Energy Manipulation: Scar, like all other Guardians, is capable of wielding the green light of the Emotional Electromagnetic Spectrum.
Black Energy Manipulation: Scar is also able to manipulate the power of the Black, usually taking the form of vomit from her mouth or her own blood.
Immortality: Like the other Guardians, Scar was naturally immortal and could not die of old age or disease. However, after the poisons of the Anti-Monitor killed her, she lived on in undeath.
Flight
Paraphernalia & Equipment
Book of the Black
Transportation
Flight, Teleportation
Notes
As one of the Guardians of the Universe resurrected as a female child by Kyle Rayner, Scar's technical first appearance is Green Lantern (Volume 3) #150. However, she was not differentiated as a unique character until Green Lantern (Volume 4) #25.
Guardians of the Universe
The Guardians of the Universe are a race of extraterrestrial superhero characters appearing in American comic books published by DC Comics, commonly in association with Green Lantern. They first appeared in Green Lantern (vol. 2) #1 (July 1960), and were created by John Broome and Gil Kane. The Guardians of the Universe have been adapted to a number of films, television programs, and video games.
The Guardians of the Universe are the founders and leaders of the interstellar law enforcement agency known as the Green Lantern Corps, which they administer from their homeworld Oa at the center of the Universe. The Guardians resemble short humans with blue skin and white hair. They are depicted as being immortal and are the oldest living beings created in the Universe.
Background
The Guardians evolved on the planet Maltus, being among the first intelligent life forms in the universe. At this time, they were tall, grayish-blue humanoids with black hair, who roughly resembled humans except for their skin color.
They became scientists and thinkers, experimenting on the worlds around them. One experiment led to the creation of a new species, the Psions. In a pivotal moment, billions of years ago, a Maltusian named Krona used time-bending technology to observe the beginning of the Universe. However, this experiment, and later attempts to stop it, unleashed disaster upon all existence.
Originally, the experiment splintered the Universe into the Multiverse and created the evil Anti-Matter Universe of Qward. Following the retroactive destruction of the Multiverse, it was revealed that Krona flooded the beginning of the Universe with entropy causing it "to be born old".
Feeling responsible for this, the evolved Maltusians relocated to the planet Oa (at "the center of the Universe") and became the Guardians. Their goal was simple: combat evil and create an orderly universe. They acted quickly on that goal.
During this period, they slowly evolved into their current appearance, losing about half of their height and having their skulls grow larger. They now act as the leaders of the Green Lantern Corps, an interstellar police force which patrols the universe.
Consequences
Desiring to bring order, peace and harmony to all the universe, they created a mechanized police force composed of powerful, self-aware androids known as Manhunters. These Manhunters, resembling uniformed, blue-skinned humanoids, operated as cosmic police officers, much like the later Green Lanterns. They protected civilization and maintained peace in the Universe for millions of years, patrolling 3600 sectors into which the cosmos had been divided.
One day, the Manhunters collectively changed their directives and set out on a campaign to eradicate all organic life. Starting with Sector 666, they killed the people they had been created to protect, eradicating almost all life in the entire sector before the Guardians stopped them.
Most Manhunters were decommissioned after the massacre of Sector 666, but the ones that escaped became the sworn enemies of their former masters and remained so until modern times.
The Manhunter rebellion caused the Guardians to split into groups with different goals. The Controllers believe the only way to protect the Universe is to control it.
The Zamarons, consisting entirely of female Oans, felt no need to involve themselves in the Universe's problems at all. Over the years, both groups evolved to look dissimilar to the Guardians. Other groups also left the Guardians; one such group settled on Earth, becoming the source of leprechaun legends.
The Apokolips campaign ended in a truce, with the Guardians forced to abandon a soldier (Raker Qarrigat) to Darkseid. Fearing dissension, they ordered all records of the Campaign expunged.
Survivors of the massacre of Sector 666 – beings labelled demons – banded together to form a nation called the Empire of Tears, which opposed the Guardians’ efforts and philosophy.
They used dark magic to create a galaxy-spanning realm of chaos and evil. The Guardians eventually defeated the Empire and imprisoned its leaders, the Five Inversions, on the bleak world of Ysmault.
The Guardians decided that magic was chaotic and posed a threat to the balance they desired to achieve. They labored to destroy sources of magic and suppress or imprison its users throughout the Universe. They succeeded in compacting much of the chaotic magic energy of the Cosmos and imprisoning it inside a star; part of it eventually escaped to become the Starheart.
Modern history
Oa's defensive systems
The Guardians were almost wiped out in the events of Emerald Twilight, the only survivor being Ganthet.
They sacrificed themselves to create one final power ring, a power ring perhaps more powerful than all others before it. Oa was itself destroyed in a battle between Parallax and Kyle Rayner, but rebuilt in the events of "Legacy" as the final wish of Hal Jordan's former power ring.
The Guardians have since been restored when Kyle Rayner, as Ion, recharged the Central Power Battery. Rayner lost his power and role as Ion but this sacrifice released all the Guardian's life forces from the dormancy in his ring.
The Immortals first appeared as children but aged quickly and many seem to have returned to the identities they had before they created Kyle Rayner's power ring. Unlike before, however, the Guardians are male and female, rather than just male.
While Kyle had made them children in order for them to grow up and become less cold than their predecessors, this had not worked. Instead, the Guardians were as cold and manipulative as they were before the Emerald Twilight, with the exception of Ganthet and Sayd. Also, one of them, Lianna, seemed to have reverted to the original Maltusian appearance in the process.
Many of the Guardians revived by Kyle Rayner seemed to have disappeared, as only a handful now appear in the current Green Lantern issues, while dozens were revived by Kyle Rayner.
Female Guardians appear in flashbacks to Hal Jordan's rookie days as a Green Lantern. Whether this is an oversight or a result of the events of Infinite Crisis has not been explained.
With their revival, they began to rebuild the Green Lantern Corps using veterans to train the new ring-bearers. Alongside this experiment, the Guardians refortified Oa by creating a planet-wide armor and defensive system to prevent successful attacks against them. The Sinestro Corps War forces them to rewrite the Book of Oa and to add ten new laws.
To date, four of the ten have been revealed. They also expelled Ganthet and Sayd from their rank, because of the discovery that they were in a romantic relationship with each other. Another reason for their expulsion was their quotation from the forbidden chapter of the Book of Oa, which has Abin Sur's discovery of the prophecy The Blackest Night.
In the aftermath of the War, both Ganthet and Sayd have evolved into two new beings on a paradise-like planet Odym, where they are harnessing the blue energy spectrum of hope and creating blue power rings and batteries, planning to create another intergalactic police force in order to be able to aid the Guardians and the Green Lantern Corps against The Blackest Night.
The rank of the Guardians has weakened, as well; while there were originally twelve of them as Head Guardians, there are now six of them, after Ganthet and Sayd left Oa, and one Guardian died after a battle with Superman-Prime—this Guardian willfully "detonated" himself in an unsuccessful, last-ditch effort to destroy the insane Kryptonian (who wished to destroy the Universe in his own right).
A female Guardian has been left scarred by the Anti-Monitor, and the exposure to his antimatter energy reveals to have had dire consequences. Her fellow Guardians were unaware of the changes within her, either physical or behavioral (she is far more militant than is normal for the Guardians).
In the Origins and Omens backup stories running through several DC releases in February 2009, she is given the official name of Scar.
Scar killed one of her fellow guardians in the beginning of the Blackest Night, and is later revealed that she has since died after the Anti-Monitor's attack, and functions as an undead instead of an immortal. Another guardian was killed by Nekron, as a sacrifice to summon the Entity on Earth.
The Guardians seemed extremely displeased with the appearance of the other corps. While they "tolerated" the existence of the Star Sapphires, they made it clear that they were going to exterminate the Red Lantern Corps.
They also made a deal with Larfleeze of the Orange Lantern Corps some time ago, which resulted in the Vega System being out of Green Lantern jurisdiction. However, they seem to show particular displeasure with the Blue Lantern Corps, going so far as to attempt to forcibly remove the blue ring acquired by Hal Jordan, and when that didn't work, attempting to hold him on Oa until such time as it could be removed. With the ultimatum delivered by Larfleeze, the current wielder of the orange power of avarice, Scar proposed lifting the ban on the Vega System as well as having the Guardians leave Oa to get involved in the conflict personally.
The Guardians accepted Scar's proposal and left Oa with Hal Jordan and the Green Lantern Corps to confront Larfleeze in the Vega System. The Guardians also decided to see how Jordan's blue ring would function with his green one during battles. After the Agent Orange's defeat, the Guardians negotiated with Larfleeze once more in order to continue to keep the orange light of avarice contained. The Agent Orange later launched an attack on Odym, seeking to possess the powers of the Blue Lantern Corps, presumably being swayed by Scar.
During the Blackest Night, the Guardians finally realized that Ganthet and Sayd were correct in their interpretation of the prophecy discovered by Abin Sur. However, Scar killed a Guardian and bound the rest to prevent them from interfering.
She later sent a number of black power rings to the Green Lantern Corps' memorial, reviving the deceased members of the Corps as undead Black Lanterns. She also weakened Oa's planetary defenses for an attack from the Black Lantern Corps.
When a group of Green Lanterns found their way into the Guardians' chamber, they found it empty, with no sign of Scar or her captives. Scar had taken her captives to the dead planet of Ryut, home of the Black Lantern's Central Power Battery.
Scar teleported herself, the Guardians, and the Black Lantern Central Power Battery to Earth, directly on top of Black Hand's home, and Black Hand summoned Nekron to Coast City. In the midst of the battle, Nekron killed a Guardian and Black Hand used his blood and organs to raise "The Trespasser" from the ground, holding a white figure.
Ganthet revealed the entity to be the living embodiment of life in the universe. It seemed Earth was where life first began, a fact the Guardians did their best to hide, to keep the entity safe from harm and exploitation, redirecting that danger towards themselves by informing the majority of the universe that life began on their planet of Oa (despite the fact that the Oans were in fact born on the planet Maltus).
During the War of the Green Lanterns storyline, the Guardians had been discussing the various events occurring, ranging from Hal Jordan's allegiance with the New Guardians to the revolt of the Alpha Lanterns and so on.
The group is then later confronted by Krona, who reveals his plan to control emotions. As a result, he had the Ion, the Predator, Butcher, Ophidian, Ion, Adara, and Proselyte inhabit the six Guardians as hosts and placed Parallax back within the Green Central Power Battery to subjugate the Green Lantern Corps under his control.
The Guardians are freed from Krona's emotional control by Hal Jordan, who kills Krona using his ultimate power. The rings from the other corps return to their former wielders. However, the Guardians expel them from Oa. The Guardians believe Hal to be the most dangerous of the Green Lantern Corps; therefore, the Guardians wrongfully discharge him from the Corps, much to the Green Lantern Corps' chagrin.
Afterward, the Guardians of the Universe allow Sinestro to become a Green Lantern once more. However, the Green Lantern Corps learn from empathy Lantern Meadlux that the Guardians are afraid of Hal Jordan, fearing that what happened to Krona would eventually happen to them if Jordan was allowed to continue as a Green Lantern.
Later, when the Green Lantern Corps are in disagreement and attempt to kill Sinestro, the Corps break into the sciencells, but the Corps discover that the Guardians have in captivity Sinestro and are trying to remove Sinestro's green ring, but the ring will not be removed.
Later, the Green Lantern Corps were in a meeting by the Guardians, where they chose to continue the fight and that any intrusion would incite a mutiny. The other Green Lantern Corps are in agreement.
⚡ Happy 🎯 Heroclix 💫 Friday! 👽
_____________________________
A year of the shows and performers of the Bijou Planks Theater.
Secret Identity: N/A
Publisher: DC
First appearance: Green Lantern Vol 4 #25 (January, 2008)
Created by: Geoff Johns (writer)
Ivan Reis (artist)
Blogging for a friends store (Dreadmorne), first time so sorry if I screw up something!
~*=Dreadmorne Items=*~
Left Arm: Dreadmorne Zemon Kit / Skinless mod
Brain / Monocle / Barnicles / Neck Bolts / Neck Incisions: All at the next Gacha Guild!
Souls
Harpoon
~*=Items list=*~
The Skull Itself: Rawl (The Angry Store)
Jacket: Hotdog Porcupine Jacket
Left Arm Wrap: L'Emporio&PL ::*Luctator*:
Left Elbow Wrap: Matova Arm Wraps
Body: Belleza Jake 2.0
Chains: ::Static:: Draped Fetters
~*=Unobtainable Items=*~
Strands of Hair (DECO)
Bandit Pants and Boots (DECO)
Padlock Necklace Gacha (DECO)
Punk Hair (Friends OC Hair)
Three-part description: The character, the miniature, and then the ORIGINAL Orcus! And the original Orcs, too!
When you're talking about the big bads of D&D, Orcus is one of the biggest and the baddest. One of the major Demon Lords, Orcus is equal to Graz'zt and Demogorgon in power and influence, and their rivalry is the main reason why demons don't just swarm over all the planes and burn everything. But the thing is, he's more than "just' a demon lord, he's also a god. Orcus was originally just a demon lord (which is like saying "Oh, he was just the emperor), until he was killed in a random struggle. Orcus responded to dying by coming back as undead, and taking the deomain of undeath as his. He then managed to graduate to full godhood, and even though he has shed his previous undead nature, he is one of the leading gods of undeath and reanimation. Ghouls? All his. Liches? A surprising amount give him alliegance. In 4th Edition D&D, the main quest series (going from 1st to 30th level) is all about discovering his plot to take control of the whole domain of death itself, and become Lord of the Afterlife. And the fight against him in the end is INSANE. Well... yeah. He's a god, and all. They don't go down easy. But let's take a closer look. Orcus's staff contains the skull of a dead god, and he can kill someone purely by touching them with it - in 4th Edition, it knocks you out immediately, and takes out half of your health if it misses, though after he uses it he has a 1/6 chance of being able to use it again next round. Just being near Orcus is deadly, as he emits an aura that instantly resurrects anybody killed as a ghoul under his control. And if you take hom down... he might not be dead. There's a good chance he can just go back to his plane, recover, and take you down later.
This figure is really significant - the Gargantuan Orcus figure was going to be released (like some of the big dragons) for D&D miniatures, but then got cancelled. So cancelled, in fact, that they showed off the prototype at GenCon 2007 because they didn't have to worry about NDAs anymore. But the response to THAT was enough outcry for Orcus to be put into full production. He's kind of expensive, but VERY well-made and painted, extremely huge, and - get this - made of DURABLE MATERIALS. WOW. He's mostly a soft plastic (that holds detail well) or hard rubber. orcus has a chance of not exploding if you drop him! And the PAINT is fantastic, outdoing pretty much any other D&D mini, even the COlossal Red Dragon that's about twice his size (and same price).
And finally, a quick word on mythological origins - Orcus was the name of an ancient Roman death/underworld judge-god. After Christianity came by, Orcus got turned into sort of a devil figure (just like Hades!), and soon his origins were forgotten in favor of using his name for generic monsters and demons. This is where we get the word "Orc," which predates Tolkien. And now you know!
Featured on Nerditis's Figure Photo of the Day: nerditis.com/2013/01/18/figure-photo-of-the-day-orcus-dem...
Featured on Life In Plastic: nerditis.com/2013/03/13/life-in-plastic-obscure-toy-lines...
Wasn't sure I was happy with Krell until I started to add all the finishing touches to different areas, then he suddenly came together and I'm quite chuffed with him now. :)
Done in Ai. Finalized in Photoshop
"When the Skulls Whisper: The Rise of the Ebon Sentinel"
In the ashen mists of a dying battlefield, Vaelorith, the Warden of the Shadow Sigil, stands as an eternal sentinel. His silver-white hair, braided with the ceremonial threads of fallen kings, cascades over obsidian armor etched with cursed filigree. Crimson eyes burn like dying stars, a mark of his pact with the ancient gods of undeath.
Across his breastplate, two skulls—one hollowed by time, the other glowing with infernal power—symbolize the duality of death and judgment. They whisper secrets of the condemned, speaking only to Vaelorith, who alone bears the burden of forgotten souls. His presence brings silence—an ominous calm before the storm of reckoning.
Behind him, tattered banners flap against a sky cracked with omenous clouds. Shadows twist and crawl in his wake, for he is not merely a warrior, but a myth reborn—crafted in sorrow, vengeance, and unholy flame. Those who see him are left with one truth: death is not the end, merely the reckoning.
Some books are banned for a good reason…
Figures used: Orcus, Demon Prince of Undeath (Dungeons & Dragons), old book
#drawlloween #drawlloween2022 #toys #toyphotography
THE LICH'S LAIR.
Here we have my third entry into the #halloweenhabitats25 and #letsbuildhalloween2 challenges over on Instagram! Again, continuing the theme of undead D&D enemies, we have a lich in his lair. I tried multiple tile patterns before eventually settling on this one, attempting to convey the grandiose taste of a creature that pursues eternal life/undeath. If there's one thing liches have, it's a flair for the dramatic, right? Collected in the lich's lair, we see a bit of everything, including some of his favorite trinkets, one of his favorite spells, a lovely still-life from one of his favorite artists, his grimoire with his nastiest and most profane magic, and of course, the captured souls of many adventurers which he'll use to one day feed his phylactery! Clearly, he's brought some more with thim, however--I wonder where he'll find the space to store them? As always, for lore: read on!
In the world of D&D, liches are powerful spellcasters who have taken on the mission to learn and conduct dark, unholy rituals that tether their soul permanently to their body, even after death. While their spirits inhabit their bodies, the flesh and its innards continue to rot away, leaving the lich with a rather macabre visage. They often dress themselves in fineries, which convey the quality of enlightenment they tend to claim they've achieved in their abominable state of being. Liches undergo the process of trapping their souls within a vessel known as a phylactery, which they often keep heavily guarded, or even hidden and inconspicuous, to avoid being destroyed by self-righteous heroes. To destroy a lich's phylactery is to destroy its safety net of regenerating after its physical form is slain. Thus, it is left vulnerable, and capable of being extinguished. A lich will fight with all its might to avoid having its broader ambitions cut short by a setback such as being slain again, and will employ devastating magic and traps to deter intruders that would infiltrate its lair.
He got a makeover...
Kubaki is Kiba's soul. Back in the feudal eras of Japan Kiba was the son of a powerful daymio loyal to the shogun. During the war between the Emperor and the shogun Kiba's father died and in his fury and anger Kiba rushed out into the snowy fields of his homeland, hacking and slashing at everything he could find, determined to bring revenge for his father. However he forgot the conditions outside and staid out far too long in the winter cold becoming ill and weak. He was rushed inside and kept very good care of by all staff. Despite all this he was determined to be a part of the meetings with the shogunate about the war and replace his father to the best of his abilities. He refused help when he needed it and carried on as if he were not deathly ill at all until he was bedridden with his condition. In the night a figure appeared before him offering him a cure for his illness and a worry free life of harm. He was delirious with fever and could not answer if he wished this gift or not. The figure did not wait for such an answer however and bit down into the boy's neck and life faded from him fast until all went black...
When he awoke Kiba found himself on a stone slab in heat that felt almost unbearable. Groggy but no longer feeling as sick as he had been he looks up and around before seeing a creature before him of monstrous proportions. Horns stuck from its heard and wings from it's back. It spoke to him and told him he was in hell. Quick to grab for his sword Kiba reached but found no blade to protect himself with. He cursed at it and told it he did not recognize it as a gozu, the bull headed guardians of hell but he was unsure. The creature demonstrated its power, showing him its ability to shape shift and control the land he was standing on until Kiba realized he was dead and there was nothing he could do. Anger rose inside him, hatred for this betrayal. The creature assured him that what the figure from life had promised him was true and that his body roamed the earth now as a blood drinking corpse. As punishment for this curse his soul had been cast into the depths of hell itself. With this Kiba grew even more angry, more bent on revenge. The creature saw this spark in the other and offered him a deal, the power to carry out his wish if he were to serve him. Without hesitation Kiba accepted this gift of corruption becoming a demon himself.
As time went on he became more corrupted, evil and spiteful and his body grew more demonic. He killed his entire family clan, leaving only those who did not live in his home of Nara and swore revenge on his walking body and the one who turned it into that. He tracked him making his life miserable, making him fear for his life at every turn when suddenly his enjoyment of torturing Kiba had to come to an end. His powers seemed to disappear and the voice of his new master no longer heard. With this he grew uneasy but still bent on his purpose, what drove him to live as long as he did in this state. He tracked down his body with somewhat more difficulty and found it within a school. He was stuck in his demonic form now but it seemed that this school would accept someone like that and so he applied to become a student knowing that his body would never recognize him in this state and swore to make his life hell on earth as his existence had to be because of him still being alive in undeath.
The Shadowfell is a realm of darkness and undeath, and is fought over by several factions - one of them are the Death Giants, titanic fiends of darkness. They resemble huge vampires, but steal and horde souls rather than blood. Those souls form a swirling aura that encircles and empowers them, making the Death Giants stronger with each and every kill.
Profile:
Code name: "Victim"
Real name: Unknown
Species: Unknown
Gender: Male
Kanohi: Doesn't use one.
Powers and Abilities: Among the Dark Hunters, "Victim" is mostly known for one thing, something that surprises all those outside of the mercenaries--revival. "Victim" can be killed, but he cannot die and will always return. Impale him, behead him, cause his body to explode, vaporize him, destroy every last atom and he'll still come back. Not only come back, but show no sign of any physical damaged done to him. Though as if that is not bad enough, that which killed him will find him to reappear either right behind them, or in front as they look back, and meet a swift end. The only known limitation of this seeming resurrection is that his killer, after killing him, must look back in the direction of his corpse (or where his corpse would be) and then in the opposite direction again. Only after that happens will "Victim" reappear for his revenge.
What this is, be it a power, ability, or technology, none are too sure and even "Victim" himself does not know how it works or why it happens. Only one thing is for certain, and that is "The Shadowed One" seems to know the secret to his immortality and can remove it at any time. But aside from this strange means to never stay dead, "Victim" is swifter than Toa and as strong as Skakdi. His claws are razor sharp, which, combined with his mighty strength, allow him to tear or punch through most armors and beings. Though he has no personal weapons of his own, he tends to grab whatever is available and is decently skilled with a variety of tools. He has learned to be quite stealthy, moving nearly silent and unseen to avoid detection. Though his own clumsiness has failed his stealth attempts many times.
Personality: Grim, but loyal, "Victim" prefers concentrating on the job and little else. This is mostly just to keep his own mind distracted as his power terrifies him and lives in constant fear for when his next death might be his last. Working extra hard to not only please his leader, but to avoid another death. To this end, he is always sneaking around, up on his toes and stalking around ever corner to avoid hazards.
Background: Where did "Victim" come from, when was he recruited, why is he here? None know, but none care much to ask either, for his has one ironic purpose, to be the victim. When he came, he died on the first day after falling for their target's trap. Only to surprisingly come back with the target's corpse, with him being alive. And the patterned continued, where he kept falling prey to target's attacks, falling for their traps, getting captured, getting killed; most started to even believe he had a cursed power to always result in him becoming the victim, to die. As a result, he received the codename "Victim." A name that would become known throughout the Matoran Universe, but one that none realized belong to one being. To outsiders, it was believed that "Victim" was the general name for all Dark Hunters sent on a suicide mission or ones killed for failure.
"Victim" himself, however, despised the name. He wanted to be better, less clumsy, and to not die. To kill his targets and live, to avoid pain. He felt the pain of every death and the pain never dulled with time. And all the more terrifying was all the other hunters wanting to test his resurrection. What if he killed himself, could he come back? What if another hunter purposely kills him while captured, could he reappear outside the cell and let them out? So many questions, but "Victim" would never let them try. He already didn't know why he came back and that was during times he was trying not to die. He didn't even know if there was a limit to unfortunate deaths, let alone purposeful suicide, and refused to try. And in that refusal, he eventually became more skilled and died less. It seemed the universe itself was still against him and death was always near by, but still far less than in the early days.
Though he was always sure of one thing, that being "The Shadowed One" could finally kill him. And for that, he was upmost loyal to an undying degree, eventually becoming a very highly talented assassin for the Dark Hunters. Between his skills, loyalty, and knack of undeath, "The Shadowed One" started pairing him up with particularly untrustworthy hunters. Ones that would, most certainly, try to betray "The Shadowed One" or kill their partner. As a test, "Victim" was once teamed up with "Vanisher," and the teleportation fiend returned alone again. Only this time when he came before "The Shadowed One" to answer for it, "Victim" came bursting through the doors and severely beat "Vanisher" for what he did to him. After that, only young and naive hunters who didn't know of "Victim's" power would ever attempt to kill him while paired up.
Designer's Notes:
Alright, so "Victim" has been the hardest one for me to build and this is my compromise ending build. In my descriptions, he's always hunched over, on his tippy toes, walking around like a cartoon character sneaking past something. And in that state, he's about half the height of a Toa, but is supposed to also look bulky, like a bruiser and/or Krekka. At any time, if he were to stand up straight instead of constantly sneaking, he would be Toa height. But for me, just trying to build that cartoony sneaking form was painful. I still don't think I achieved it, but it's as close as I'm getting.
Skarr the Barbarian - Vampires
Yolande Fireheart walked in the light undergrowth of the woods just outside the Imperial city, her black wool cape and hood trailing behind her. She normally loved the smell of the early morning dew, and the sounds of the waking animals and birds. Reminded her of home in the Northlands, where her father would already be awakened hours before and working at his blades at the Fireheart Forge. She was supposedly looking for fresh mineral deposits, for her own forge, right here in the city, but her mind was elsewhere. Ever since she had met the Countess….
Not that Yolande was swung that way, but when she had first met the Countess of Richtenburg for the sale of a hundred swords for La Comtessa’s men, she had been struck with the woman. Countess Gabriella of Richtenburg was almost hypnotic and sensual, and tickled Yolande’s nerves beyond what the young Norther woman had thought possible. And, in their subsequent meetings, when Gabriella had admitted to being a vampire, a fiend, the very demon her father had warned her against, she still could not take the courage to shout for the watch. The way the Countess explained the advantages of undeath, Yolande longed for blood kiss, the caress that would turn her vampire . The feeling did not fade when she was alone, the petty squabbles of city life, jealousies and rivalries, all Yolande saw or felt were those delicious fangs sinking into her flesh…
…and so, she had come to look for mineral deposits. Normally, the job of kneeling in the earth and tearing her fingernails on the rocks till they bled reminded her of her own mortality, and of home. But not today. She thought only of Gabriella.
And so it became fitting when the small, raven haired Countess silently appeared behind her.
“Where…where did you….”, spluttered Yolande Fireheart, reaching for her blade, with which to attack the vampire.
Gabriella ignored the blade, and walked closer to Yolande,
“Shhhh now, sweetness, it’ all going to be fine”, she murmured.
Yolande stood there, in the morning air, shaking as Gabriella approached her, clad in the “Gabby the fisher girl” disguise she had been affecting recently. Gabriella stroked Yolande’s hair gently, cradling the blonde Norther’s head in her arms. Instinctively, Yolande tilted her head on one side and bared her neck for the vampire,
“Shhhh”, reassured Gabriella, “it won’t hurt. It’ll all be over soon, my darling.”
Yolande closed her eyes as Gabriella’s long fangs emerged from her mouth. Gripping Yolande’s head in her emerging claws, she bit deep into the jugular vein in Yolande’s neck, sinking her sharp fangs in. Gabriella held the Norther woman in her strong grasp as her body spasmed and instinctively tried to get away. Then, as Gabriella drunk deep of the delicious rich blood, she felt Yolande’s body relax into warm ecstasy.
Yolande’s vision became hazy. She remembered parts, not all. She remembered her vision fading in the harsh heat of the suddenly burning sun. How did Gabriella stand to be outside in such heat? The morning sun made her skin feel like it was almost on fire. She remembered the revolting smells coming from the sellers of cooked meats in the market, horrible retching smells of dead flesh.
And the delicious throb of the veins on their necks as the rich blood pumped in their warm bodies…
Yolande woke with a start. It was darkness outside, the middle of the night. Had the meeting with Gabriella all been a dream???
Skarr the Barbarian - Vampires
Yolande Fireheart walked in the light undergrowth of the woods just outside the Imperial city, her black wool cape and hood trailing behind her. She normally loved the smell of the early morning dew, and the sounds of the waking animals and birds. Reminded her of home in the Northlands, where her father would already be awakened hours before and working at his blades at the Fireheart Forge. She was supposedly looking for fresh mineral deposits, for her own forge, right here in the city, but her mind was elsewhere. Ever since she had met the Countess….
Not that Yolande was swung that way, but when she had first met the Countess of Richtenburg for the sale of a hundred swords for La Comtessa’s men, she had been struck with the woman. Countess Gabriella of Richtenburg was almost hypnotic and sensual, and tickled Yolande’s nerves beyond what the young Norther woman had thought possible. And, in their subsequent meetings, when Gabriella had admitted to being a vampire, a fiend, the very demon her father had warned her against, she still could not take the courage to shout for the watch. The way the Countess explained the advantages of undeath, Yolande longed for blood kiss, the caress that would turn her vampire . The feeling did not fade when she was alone, the petty squabbles of city life, jealousies and rivalries, all Yolande saw or felt were those delicious fangs sinking into her flesh…
…and so, she had come to look for mineral deposits. Normally, the job of kneeling in the earth and tearing her fingernails on the rocks till they bled reminded her of her own mortality, and of home. But not today. She thought only of Gabriella.
And so it became fitting when the small, raven haired Countess silently appeared behind her.
“Where…where did you….”, spluttered Yolande Fireheart, reaching for her blade, with which to attack the vampire.
Gabriella ignored the blade, and walked closer to Yolande,
“Shhhh now, sweetness, it’ all going to be fine”, she murmured.
Yolande stood there, in the morning air, shaking as Gabriella approached her, clad in the “Gabby the fisher girl” disguise she had been affecting recently. Gabriella stroked Yolande’s hair gently, cradling the blonde Norther’s head in her arms. Instinctively, Yolande tilted her head on one side and bared her neck for the vampire,
“Shhhh”, reassured Gabriella, “it won’t hurt. It’ll all be over soon, my darling.”
Yolande closed her eyes as Gabriella’s long fangs emerged from her mouth. Gripping Yolande’s head in her emerging claws, she bit deep into the jugular vein in Yolande’s neck, sinking her sharp fangs in. Gabriella held the Norther woman in her strong grasp as her body spasmed and instinctively tried to get away. Then, as Gabriella drunk deep of the delicious rich blood, she felt Yolande’s body relax into warm ecstasy.
Yolande’s vision became hazy. She remembered parts, not all. She remembered her vision fading in the harsh heat of the suddenly burning sun. How did Gabriella stand to be outside in such heat? The morning sun made her skin feel like it was almost on fire. She remembered the revolting smells coming from the sellers of cooked meats in the market, horrible retching smells of dead flesh.
And the delicious throb of the veins on their necks as the rich blood pumped in their warm bodies…
Yolande woke with a start. It was darkness outside, the middle of the night. Had the meeting with Gabriella all been a dream???
Skarr the Barbarian - Vampires
Yolande Fireheart walked in the light undergrowth of the woods just outside the Imperial city, her black wool cape and hood trailing behind her. She normally loved the smell of the early morning dew, and the sounds of the waking animals and birds. Reminded her of home in the Northlands, where her father would already be awakened hours before and working at his blades at the Fireheart Forge. She was supposedly looking for fresh mineral deposits, for her own forge, right here in the city, but her mind was elsewhere. Ever since she had met the Countess….
Not that Yolande was swung that way, but when she had first met the Countess of Richtenburg for the sale of a hundred swords for La Comtessa’s men, she had been struck with the woman. Countess Gabriella of Richtenburg was almost hypnotic and sensual, and tickled Yolande’s nerves beyond what the young Norther woman had thought possible. And, in their subsequent meetings, when Gabriella had admitted to being a vampire, a fiend, the very demon her father had warned her against, she still could not take the courage to shout for the watch. The way the Countess explained the advantages of undeath, Yolande longed for blood kiss, the caress that would turn her vampire . The feeling did not fade when she was alone, the petty squabbles of city life, jealousies and rivalries, all Yolande saw or felt were those delicious fangs sinking into her flesh…
…and so, she had come to look for mineral deposits. Normally, the job of kneeling in the earth and tearing her fingernails on the rocks till they bled reminded her of her own mortality, and of home. But not today. She thought only of Gabriella.
And so it became fitting when the small, raven haired Countess silently appeared behind her.
“Where…where did you….”, spluttered Yolande Fireheart, reaching for her blade, with which to attack the vampire.
Gabriella ignored the blade, and walked closer to Yolande,
“Shhhh now, sweetness, it’ all going to be fine”, she murmured.
Yolande stood there, in the morning air, shaking as Gabriella approached her, clad in the “Gabby the fisher girl” disguise she had been affecting recently. Gabriella stroked Yolande’s hair gently, cradling the blonde Norther’s head in her arms. Instinctively, Yolande tilted her head on one side and bared her neck for the vampire,
“Shhhh”, reassured Gabriella, “it won’t hurt. It’ll all be over soon, my darling.”
Yolande closed her eyes as Gabriella’s long fangs emerged from her mouth. Gripping Yolande’s head in her emerging claws, she bit deep into the jugular vein in Yolande’s neck, sinking her sharp fangs in. Gabriella held the Norther woman in her strong grasp as her body spasmed and instinctively tried to get away. Then, as Gabriella drunk deep of the delicious rich blood, she felt Yolande’s body relax into warm ecstasy.
Yolande’s vision became hazy. She remembered parts, not all. She remembered her vision fading in the harsh heat of the suddenly burning sun. How did Gabriella stand to be outside in such heat? The morning sun made her skin feel like it was almost on fire. She remembered the revolting smells coming from the sellers of cooked meats in the market, horrible retching smells of dead flesh.
And the delicious throb of the veins on their necks as the rich blood pumped in their warm bodies…
Yolande woke with a start. It was darkness outside, the middle of the night. Had the meeting with Gabriella all been a dream???
Skarr the Barbarian - Vampires
Yolande Fireheart walked in the light undergrowth of the woods just outside the Imperial city, her black wool cape and hood trailing behind her. She normally loved the smell of the early morning dew, and the sounds of the waking animals and birds. Reminded her of home in the Northlands, where her father would already be awakened hours before and working at his blades at the Fireheart Forge. She was supposedly looking for fresh mineral deposits, for her own forge, right here in the city, but her mind was elsewhere. Ever since she had met the Countess….
Not that Yolande was swung that way, but when she had first met the Countess of Richtenburg for the sale of a hundred swords for La Comtessa’s men, she had been struck with the woman. Countess Gabriella of Richtenburg was almost hypnotic and sensual, and tickled Yolande’s nerves beyond what the young Norther woman had thought possible. And, in their subsequent meetings, when Gabriella had admitted to being a vampire, a fiend, the very demon her father had warned her against, she still could not take the courage to shout for the watch. The way the Countess explained the advantages of undeath, Yolande longed for blood kiss, the caress that would turn her vampire . The feeling did not fade when she was alone, the petty squabbles of city life, jealousies and rivalries, all Yolande saw or felt were those delicious fangs sinking into her flesh…
…and so, she had come to look for mineral deposits. Normally, the job of kneeling in the earth and tearing her fingernails on the rocks till they bled reminded her of her own mortality, and of home. But not today. She thought only of Gabriella.
And so it became fitting when the small, raven haired Countess silently appeared behind her.
“Where…where did you….”, spluttered Yolande Fireheart, reaching for her blade, with which to attack the vampire.
Gabriella ignored the blade, and walked closer to Yolande,
“Shhhh now, sweetness, it’ all going to be fine”, she murmured.
Yolande stood there, in the morning air, shaking as Gabriella approached her, clad in the “Gabby the fisher girl” disguise she had been affecting recently. Gabriella stroked Yolande’s hair gently, cradling the blonde Norther’s head in her arms. Instinctively, Yolande tilted her head on one side and bared her neck for the vampire,
“Shhhh”, reassured Gabriella, “it won’t hurt. It’ll all be over soon, my darling.”
Yolande closed her eyes as Gabriella’s long fangs emerged from her mouth. Gripping Yolande’s head in her emerging claws, she bit deep into the jugular vein in Yolande’s neck, sinking her sharp fangs in. Gabriella held the Norther woman in her strong grasp as her body spasmed and instinctively tried to get away. Then, as Gabriella drunk deep of the delicious rich blood, she felt Yolande’s body relax into warm ecstasy.
Yolande’s vision became hazy. She remembered parts, not all. She remembered her vision fading in the harsh heat of the suddenly burning sun. How did Gabriella stand to be outside in such heat? The morning sun made her skin feel like it was almost on fire. She remembered the revolting smells coming from the sellers of cooked meats in the market, horrible retching smells of dead flesh.
And the delicious throb of the veins on their necks as the rich blood pumped in their warm bodies…
Yolande woke with a start. It was darkness outside, the middle of the night. Had the meeting with Gabriella all been a dream???
Even in undeath, Dwarves retain certain cultural attributes. (They're really attached to those beards.)
Skarr the Barbarian - Vampires
Yolande Fireheart walked in the light undergrowth of the woods just outside the Imperial city, her black wool cape and hood trailing behind her. She normally loved the smell of the early morning dew, and the sounds of the waking animals and birds. Reminded her of home in the Northlands, where her father would already be awakened hours before and working at his blades at the Fireheart Forge. She was supposedly looking for fresh mineral deposits, for her own forge, right here in the city, but her mind was elsewhere. Ever since she had met the Countess….
Not that Yolande was swung that way, but when she had first met the Countess of Richtenburg for the sale of a hundred swords for La Comtessa’s men, she had been struck with the woman. Countess Gabriella of Richtenburg was almost hypnotic and sensual, and tickled Yolande’s nerves beyond what the young Norther woman had thought possible. And, in their subsequent meetings, when Gabriella had admitted to being a vampire, a fiend, the very demon her father had warned her against, she still could not take the courage to shout for the watch. The way the Countess explained the advantages of undeath, Yolande longed for blood kiss, the caress that would turn her vampire . The feeling did not fade when she was alone, the petty squabbles of city life, jealousies and rivalries, all Yolande saw or felt were those delicious fangs sinking into her flesh…
…and so, she had come to look for mineral deposits. Normally, the job of kneeling in the earth and tearing her fingernails on the rocks till they bled reminded her of her own mortality, and of home. But not today. She thought only of Gabriella.
And so it became fitting when the small, raven haired Countess silently appeared behind her.
“Where…where did you….”, spluttered Yolande Fireheart, reaching for her blade, with which to attack the vampire.
Gabriella ignored the blade, and walked closer to Yolande,
“Shhhh now, sweetness, it’ all going to be fine”, she murmured.
Yolande stood there, in the morning air, shaking as Gabriella approached her, clad in the “Gabby the fisher girl” disguise she had been affecting recently. Gabriella stroked Yolande’s hair gently, cradling the blonde Norther’s head in her arms. Instinctively, Yolande tilted her head on one side and bared her neck for the vampire,
“Shhhh”, reassured Gabriella, “it won’t hurt. It’ll all be over soon, my darling.”
Yolande closed her eyes as Gabriella’s long fangs emerged from her mouth. Gripping Yolande’s head in her emerging claws, she bit deep into the jugular vein in Yolande’s neck, sinking her sharp fangs in. Gabriella held the Norther woman in her strong grasp as her body spasmed and instinctively tried to get away. Then, as Gabriella drunk deep of the delicious rich blood, she felt Yolande’s body relax into warm ecstasy.
Yolande’s vision became hazy. She remembered parts, not all. She remembered her vision fading in the harsh heat of the suddenly burning sun. How did Gabriella stand to be outside in such heat? The morning sun made her skin feel like it was almost on fire. She remembered the revolting smells coming from the sellers of cooked meats in the market, horrible retching smells of dead flesh.
And the delicious throb of the veins on their necks as the rich blood pumped in their warm bodies…
Yolande woke with a start. It was darkness outside, the middle of the night. Had the meeting with Gabriella all been a dream???
Got myself a kit and a flashlight. You never know when you'll need it. Especially with 2012 coming soon..... Also got the Amazing Screw-On Head!! I have heard a lot about it, but again never bit the bullet. Now I'm glad I didn't! Sars Wars just looks so great! I have a bunch of friends coming over tonight so I know what movie we will be watching!! And of course: The Last Christmas!! Holy crap this graphic novel looks great!
And last, but not least... WIckedkarma's girlfriend wrote me a zombified Christmas Story:
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the land
The zombie apocalypse was close at hand;
No longer the most wonderful time of the year,
The holiday spirit was snuffed out by fear;
The children were nestled all terrified in bed,
While their young lives were threatened by hoards of undead;
And mama, the kids and I hid in our bunker,
Had all settled down for our safety to hunker,
When all of a sudden a sound like thunder,
Tore the silence of Christmas Eve night asunder.
I ran to the peephole hoping I could spy,
Whatever was making such a sound in the sky.
The flame of an afterburner lit the night,
My eyes took a moment to adjust to the light,
Then, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But an armored sleigh, and eight bionic reindeer,
With a battle-ready driver, so lively and quick,
Our salvation had come in the form of St. Nick.
With the fury of Valkyries his coursers descended,
Here to make certain our nightmares were ended;
"Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! on Cupid! on, Donner and Blitzen!
Tonight we ride to battle in glory!
To face all what may come, no matter how gory!"
At the sound of his cry the zombies looked up,
Hoping that on the flesh of Santa they would sup,
On top of our bunker he came in to land,
The destruction of the zombies now close at hand.
Piloted by St. Nick, as sly as a fox,
His sleigh held an armory to rival Fort Knox.
Half saint, half Rambo did our hero emerge,
Arrived just in time to rid the flesh eating scourge.
He was dressed all for war, from his head to his toes,
And his clothes were all splattered with the blood of his foes;
A bundle of guns he had flung on his back,
He was a one man army prepared to attack.
His eyes -- how they burned with a fearsome bloodlust!
His mission was clear and he knew his cause was just!
His mouth was all twisted in a grimace so fell,
And his mind bent on sending brain-eaters to hell;
Between his teeth he held a Cuban cigar,
Puffing with zeal as he readied himself for war;
He had a fierce face and a muscled physique,
Jolly old Santa’s fat shape had gotten quite sleek.
All geared up for war Santa made quite a sight,
I had to laugh right out loud in spite of my fright;
With a pump of his rifle, a thunderous report,
The undeath of zombies was quickly cut short;
He spoke not a word, but slew zombies with mirth,
A man on a mission to save the planet earth,
A single thumbs up told us all that he’d won,
That we were all safe now, that the killing was done;
He sprang to his sleigh, invigorated by slaughter,
And dead on the ground lay ever last rotter.
But I heard him exclaim, as he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night."
I'm seriously astonished at how well you did WIckedkarma! Tell your girlfriend that her story was great and I will be sharing this candy with my wife (as she's eating one of the candy canes).
Also, I didn't forget that I also got Torchlight from you, so huge thumbs up from me to you sir!! I really appreciate the thought that went into the gifts!
Skarr the Barbarian - Vampires
Yolande Fireheart walked in the light undergrowth of the woods just outside the Imperial city, her black wool cape and hood trailing behind her. She normally loved the smell of the early morning dew, and the sounds of the waking animals and birds. Reminded her of home in the Northlands, where her father would already be awakened hours before and working at his blades at the Fireheart Forge. She was supposedly looking for fresh mineral deposits, for her own forge, right here in the city, but her mind was elsewhere. Ever since she had met the Countess….
Not that Yolande was swung that way, but when she had first met the Countess of Richtenburg for the sale of a hundred swords for La Comtessa’s men, she had been struck with the woman. Countess Gabriella of Richtenburg was almost hypnotic and sensual, and tickled Yolande’s nerves beyond what the young Norther woman had thought possible. And, in their subsequent meetings, when Gabriella had admitted to being a vampire, a fiend, the very demon her father had warned her against, she still could not take the courage to shout for the watch. The way the Countess explained the advantages of undeath, Yolande longed for blood kiss, the caress that would turn her vampire . The feeling did not fade when she was alone, the petty squabbles of city life, jealousies and rivalries, all Yolande saw or felt were those delicious fangs sinking into her flesh…
…and so, she had come to look for mineral deposits. Normally, the job of kneeling in the earth and tearing her fingernails on the rocks till they bled reminded her of her own mortality, and of home. But not today. She thought only of Gabriella.
And so it became fitting when the small, raven haired Countess silently appeared behind her.
“Where…where did you….”, spluttered Yolande Fireheart, reaching for her blade, with which to attack the vampire.
Gabriella ignored the blade, and walked closer to Yolande,
“Shhhh now, sweetness, it’ all going to be fine”, she murmured.
Yolande stood there, in the morning air, shaking as Gabriella approached her, clad in the “Gabby the fisher girl” disguise she had been affecting recently. Gabriella stroked Yolande’s hair gently, cradling the blonde Norther’s head in her arms. Instinctively, Yolande tilted her head on one side and bared her neck for the vampire,
“Shhhh”, reassured Gabriella, “it won’t hurt. It’ll all be over soon, my darling.”
Yolande closed her eyes as Gabriella’s long fangs emerged from her mouth. Gripping Yolande’s head in her emerging claws, she bit deep into the jugular vein in Yolande’s neck, sinking her sharp fangs in. Gabriella held the Norther woman in her strong grasp as her body spasmed and instinctively tried to get away. Then, as Gabriella drunk deep of the delicious rich blood, she felt Yolande’s body relax into warm ecstasy.
Yolande’s vision became hazy. She remembered parts, not all. She remembered her vision fading in the harsh heat of the suddenly burning sun. How did Gabriella stand to be outside in such heat? The morning sun made her skin feel like it was almost on fire. She remembered the revolting smells coming from the sellers of cooked meats in the market, horrible retching smells of dead flesh.
And the delicious throb of the veins on their necks as the rich blood pumped in their warm bodies…
Yolande woke with a start. It was darkness outside, the middle of the night. Had the meeting with Gabriella all been a dream???
(continued from here)
Meanwhile, Sven had made his way from the trading stalls with a new shield. Though originally a Swede, the merchant Jarvik Korrison had been an old friend of his in Norway who had made his way to England to avoid a rather messy trial for a crime that he "may or may not have committed." He had practically given the shield to Sven, asking only that he helped save the town from a draugr plague.
"These people, this village," Jarvik said with an expansive hand gesture, "are my family now. Much better than that thrice cursed Baerni Bjornson, who may or may not have framed me... uh, sorry, where was I?"
Sven grinned. "These people, this village, are your family now..." he said, imitating Jarvik's hand gestures.
"Aha. Always the joker, Sven! Well, they have been upset of late by undead. It seems that a local tomb was upset somehow... now draugr come out and attack by night, and our dead rise by day. You were always a joker, ja, but also always an adventurer. I'm sure you can help them! Do it for an old friend... or at least do it for this shield, uh? High quality steel, and an enchantment as well, a sort of protection from fire."
Sven grinned again and clasped the merchant's arm. "It's a deal, old friend. A legion of draugr, what's that to Sven Anderson?"
Sven, however, was starting to regret his promise. "What on earth am I thinking?" he muttered to himself in Norse. "I can't fight a horde of undead..." He looked up at the rumble of a cart. There was a chained coffin in it. Not good. Not good at all... if he died, then there would be an undead Viking with a Snaketooth longsword and a +1 shield of fire protection running around. Perhaps the best way to help this village would be to stay as far away from it as possible. Yes, that was the way. He would not break his oath, and the undead would not break his body. "Or my mind," he thought, shuddering at the prospect of undeath.
Then again... what was a legion of Draugr to Sven Anderson? Surely they would be slow and fragile from the years of rotting in a musty tomb. If he destroyed whatever was raising them, surely they would no longer be held to fight. He would not be the only one fighting them... surely he would not die with a whole adventuring party around him. Yes. Surely. Whoever she was...
He turned again at familiar voices. The fiery haired girl and the dragon cloaked warrior. They had been on the road to Sandford only a few minutes behind him, entering the town just as he was talking to Jarvik.
What were they saying? He couldn't hear them over the noise of the cart.
"I suppose it's not my business... still, I should like to know more about them..." he thought, and turned back to the path.
"Godan... uh, hello." he called to a sandy haired mercenary walking ahead of him.
"Hey! You here for the mummies too? Well, maybe I'll leave a few for you then." The man seemed a trifle arrogant, and perhaps not too bright.
"Uh... yes..." Sven said hesitantly. "You mean the undead? Yes."
"Yeah! What else?"
"Right, of course. Say, do you know anything about those warriors over there? He gestured across the road. The cart had visually vacated the immediate area, but the sound was still more than enough to block the speech of the adventurers.
"Nope! That girl's nice on the eyes though, huh?"
"Uh, yeah."
"Well, looks like I have to get going! See you at the town hall! Hope you're ready to beat down some mummies!"
"Indeed." said Sven blandly.
(continued here)
This ultimate of undead sorcerers is casting a dark spell.Remember: He trapped his soul in an object long before Voldemort.
In life he was Urikel Zarl, leader of a savage druidic lion-worshipping cult. But in undeath, he is The Ghostlord.
An ancient and evil Lich who resides near the city of Brindol, the Ghostlord is quite dangerous, but has mostly kept to himself in recent centuries. But now the Red Hand army has stolen his phylactery and blackmailed him into helping them in their conquest. It is the mission of the heroes to either retrieve the Ghostlord's phylactery and negotiate for his assistance, or corner and defeat him before he can aid the Red Hand.
The Red Hand of Doom was a FANTASTIC D&D adventure, and a lot of the unique enemy types got represented in D&D miniatures. Sadly, for some reason, some of the main villains (including Azarr Kul, the main bad guy) were left out. This is a Pathfinder Denizen of Leng mini, but it looks enough like The Ghostlord's art to count. Also, hellcats standing in for ghost lions, and Viscera Devourers for bonedrinkers.
The basic plot of the Red Hand of Doom involved the half-dragon hobgoblin Azarr Kul and his Army of the Red Hand - goblins, hobgoblins, bugbears, hill giants, dragons, and many other types of savage monsters who had banded together into a dragon-worshipping army. it is a very large module that covers a war, and nearly every major mission has contingencies in place in case the players fail. Take The Ghostlord, for example:
-If the players retrieve his phylactery and bring it to him (after fighting through his guards!), he agrees to leave the players and the City of Brindol alone, although he will not offer any more assistance. And in fact, if you hang around too long, he might get annoyed enough to try to kill you.
-If the players do not retrieve his phylactery, they can try to reason with him and offer to save it for him. In the unlikely event that he agrees, you will have some assistance from his undead legions... though he will also try to kill you if you take too long or fail to get that phylactery back.
-If the players do not retrieve his phylactery, they can try to fight him off. If they defeat the Ghostlord (who is roughly as strong as Azarr Kul, only magic-based. Ouch.), then he might regenerate near his phylactery and come after you to kill you later.
-If the players destroy the Ghostlord's phylactery and then defeat him, he is gone for good.
-If the players fail at retrieving his phylactery or driving him off, then his undead forces will assist the Red Hand at several key points, and the Ghostlord himself will turn up to fight you during the siege of Brindol (alongside any of the Red Hand generals and dragons who have not been killed, too. This is A Bad Thing.).
-And of course, the Red Hand has stationed a garrison in the Ghostlord's lair. Even if you can secure him as an ally, you have to fight through the hobgoblins, general Ulwai Stormcaller, and Varanthian, a powerful Behir. No one ever said it would be easy!
This might be the only time in D&D when you WANT to have a lich on your side.
This is my new-ish character Kubaki. He is the corrupted "soul" of my vampire character, Kiba. He has had many looks but this is his newest.
I like how this came out because I used the Trap Sphinx skin without the tattoos and used the Gauze tattoos for the Kayn skin. They work so wonderfully together!
Enjoy his lengthy background....typos and all cause I am extremely lazy
Kubaki is Kiba's soul. Back in the fudal eras of Japan Kiba was the son of a powerful daymio loyal to the shogun. During the war between the Emperor and the shogun Kiba's father died and in his fury and anger Kiba rushed out into the snowy feilds of his homeland, hacking and slashing at everything he could find, determined to bring revenge for his father. However he forgot the conditions outside and staied out far too long in the winter cold becoming ill and weak. He was rushed inside and kept very good care of by all staff. Dispite all this he was determined to be a part of the meetings with the shogunate about the war and replace hisfather to the best of his abilities. He refused help when he needed it and carried on as if he were not deathly ill at all untill he was bedridden with his condintion. In the night a figure appeared before him offering him a cure for his illness and a worry free life of harm. He was delerious with feaver and could not answer if he wished this gift or not. The figure did not wait for such an answer however and bit down into the boy's neck and life faded from himf ast untill all went black. When he awoke Kiba found himself on a stone slab in heat that felt almost unbareable. Groggy but no longer feeling as sick as he had been he looks up and around before seeing a creature before him of monsterous perportions. Horns stuck from its heard and wings from it's back. It spoke to him and told him he was in hell. Quick to grab for his sword Kiba reached but found no blade to protect himself with. He cursed at it and told it he did not recognise it as a gozu, the bull headed gardians of hell but he was unsure. The creature demonstraited its power, showing him its ability to shape shift and control the land he was standing on untill Kiba realized he was dead and there was nothing he could do. Anger rose inside him, hatred for this betrayl. The creature assured him that what the figure from life had promised himw as true and that his body roamed the earth now as a blood drinking corpse. As punishment for this curse his soul had been cast into the depths of hell itself. With this Kiba grew even more angry, more bent on revenge. The creature saw this spark in the other and offered him a deal, the power to carry out his wish if he were to serve him. Without hesitation Kiba accepted this iftof corruption becoming a demon himself. As time went on he became more crrupted, evil and spiteful and his body grew more demonic as time went on. He killed his entire family clan, leaving only those who did not live in his home of Nara and swore revenge on his walking body and the one who turned it into that. He tracked him making his life mizerable, making him fear for his life at every turn when suddenly his enjoymentof tourchering Kiba had to come to an end. His powers seemed to dissapear and the voice of his new master no longer heard. With this he grew uneasy but still bent on his perpose, what drove him to live as long as he did in this state. He tracked down his body with somehwat more difficulty and found it within a school. He was tuck in his demonic form now but it seemed that this school would accept someone like that and so he applied to become a student knowing that his body would never recognise him in this state and swore to make his life hell on earth as his exsistance had to be because of him still being alive in undeath.