::I can try to use words on my flesh, gelatin?, body. Or I can do it on canvas or even another's flesh, I am living ink after all::
::On yourself should be alright. On canvas, maybe. On someone else is, probably don't.::
The Matron rattles of information, "Crossbreed percentages: ogres 20%, giants 27%, humans 97%, elves 15%, orcs 35%, goblins 2%, cave trolls 9%, and the list goes on..."
Using his rod of splendor, Domayoku will wear this revealing noble garb.
The half-fiend antipaladin will also bring his personal assistant, Shashanta and his spymaster, Bela to the party. Shashanta will likely act as Domayoku's lieutenant, while Bela help provide additional security.
Walking with Domayoku and his retinue they return to the witch's exterior using teleportation. Then he walks with several nice cloaks ahead and finding Heather's hut he goes to speak with her.
Ink will start the procession as an Owl.
As Dominique talks with Heather, Demon King Domayoku stands dark and elegant in his royal attire.
Standing to his right is a shapely female humanoid has dark hair, dark eyes, and a pair of small black horns just above her eyes. Small, black, leathery wings protrude from her shoulders, which are hidden by a cloak of elvenkind. She wears nothing else, but the sword belt and scabbard carrying her invigorating mithral longsword. This woman is holding several wooden boxes, allowing her front to be exposed.
Sitting on the half-fiend's shoulder is a female imp dressed in stealthy black leathers that still accentuate the demon's gender.
"Greeting and salutations, ladies. My assistant, Shashanta has several cases of hallucinogenics for the coven to enjoy!"
Gesturing to his shoulder, Domayoku adds, "And this is my Head of Security, Bela, whom shall be providing additional security, if you wish it.
No arcane component harvesting, please."
With items set aside upon a table. He walks up to the table and begins his spell. It takes ten minutes, plenty of time for everyone to sit down. Once done you see a great feast, including service, food and drink.
Faint taps can be heard in the distance of the village as a seemingly small army of frog folk march closer. As they get closer it is clear that the are dressed in servant finery and carrying covered silver platters.
Ink will take time to shift into the heavily tattooed man with a nice tuxedo. He has his dagger, sling and gnarly cane. He bows to the ladies and lets the tattoos move and react showing glorious scenes of battle and legend.
A thunderous sound echoes through the air, punctuated by the sharp crack of cymbals. A fog grows but the sounds of instruments and music can be heard from there. A slightly distorted blaring of a horn melody. Those from the other world quickly recognize the opening of "The Final Countdown".
From the fog emerged a procession of grippi, the frog folk, their glossy skin glistening under the flickering candle light. Each carried ornate platters laden with exquisite goods, sumptuous food, and precious tributes. Their movements were fluid yet deliberate, their wide eyes taking in the grandeur as they gracefully navigate the swamp.
Above them, flies the guild leader of the Seeds of Slaughter, resplendent in a white tux. Flanking him are members of the group, each a spectacle in their own right, their distinct appearances and styles emphasizing their individuality.
As the Desseer reaches the center, the grippi forms a circle below him, presenting their offerings as a visual testament to the alliance's wealth and power. Desseer turns to face the village. An air of tension and expectation settles over the area. Raising a hand, the music ends and he speaks, his voice commanding yet brimming with fervor.
“Tonight, we gather as friends! It is my honor to unveil the Seeds of Slaughter, an alliance forged in the fires of ambition, unity, and strength. Together, we will carve a path through the prejudice. Together, we will form a world where our people do not have to hide."
The Desseer’s eyes scan the crowd, his gaze piercing and unwavering.
“We gather here not by chance but by choice. Your loyalty, your skill, and your resolve are the very foundation of what we shall achieve. Let this alliance be the harbinger of triumph, and let this moment mark the genesis of our rise!”
A roar of approval erupts from the swamp, their cheers reverberating like thunder across the swamp. Desseer allows the applause to wash over them for a moment before raising a hand for silence.
“Now, let me introduce you to the core of our alliance, the champions whose strength and cunning will lead us to glory. As they prefer to be introduced, I give you...”
Myriana found that most of her wardrobe was far more drab than she would like. It seemed that having been undead had given her a far more emo/goth look and that just wasn't for her now. While she didn't want anything too dark she didn't want really bright colors either. She decided on a dark purple, backless, gown of a gauzy material that clung to her form and was just opaque enough to conceal her body but at the same time leave little to the imagination. She wore a matching pair of shoes with low heels adding an inch or so to her height and included most of her magical gear into the outfit.
When Myriana was done preparing for the ball she tuned and went to where Iris was changing. Her lover had wanted some privacy while she changed for once and Myriana couldn't help but wonder what she would look like when she came out. "I'm ready when you are Iris-chan, nya."
Myriana suddenly appeared from seeming nowhere in the air as she slid through a little crack in reality and hovered for a moment as her large butterfly wings flapped a few times to keep her aloft. After a moment she came flying down when she was introduced. Descended with grace, stopping to hover next to Desseer and curtsying gracefully as she awaited him to introduce her.
"The intellectual, the loving, the entrancing, and the utterly purrfect, Myriana!"
"I am Demon King Domayoku, Dark Warrior and Godling of Tyranny." The half-fiend unsheaths his unholy avenger, and salutes The Moon Matron, then all the witches assembled.
In his tailed tuxedo Ink stands and enjoys the spectacle before him. He leans on his shillelagh, as his ink black hair and eyes look over the crowd. White skin is alive with words, scenes and sigils moving across it.
Not one to enjoy the spotlight he still stands as is customary when deferring to Desseer, his superior.
"As mysterious as he is amorphous, the whisper, it is Ink! While he may not keep his hands, feet, or other pseudopods to himself, he has promised to keep his mind to himself!" Desseer declares with a smile and a wink at Ink.
She walks out in her gown shimmering like a cascade of stars. Crafted from deep midnight blue silk, it flowed effortlessly to the floor, the hem gently grazing the floorboards beneath her. The fabric seemed to shimmer with a subtle enchantment, reflecting the light in a way that made her look as though she were surrounded by a soft, ethereal glow.
The bodice, embroidered with intricate silver thread, hugged her slender frame, tracing the curves of her waist before flaring out into the skirt. Delicate, dark lace spiraled up the sleeves, fading into a gentle mist as they reached her wrists, where fine silver bracelets twinkled softly in the night. Her hair, black as raven feathers, cascaded in loose waves, adorned with tiny, glowing crystals that flickered like fireflies. Her eyes, a captivating shade of emerald green, seemed to hold ancient secrets, while her lips were painted a shade of deep crimson, like fresh berries in the dusk.
In her hand, she held a slender silver wand, etched with runes, which she twirled absentmindedly. The gown and her presence radiated a quiet power—one that spoke of magic not just from spells, but from the quiet confidence and mystery that she carried with every step.
She smiled at Myrianna and whistled. She states, "You look ravishing. Thank you for the aid of your... minions... servants... I am not sure what to call them.
---
She likely follows Myriana hovering above from where they had just teleported. She knew she did not have the prestige to be called a champion. If nothing else she flies down and advances on foot.
He walks out of Heather's hut and introduces himself! "I am Dominique Silverstone of Dragon's Glory, The Lightning. May our guilds flourish and grow together!"
He is a very charismatic and imposing figure of thickly corded muscles which you can see on his mostly exposed arms. The Elven white spider silk kimono covers him with grace, the minor colors expressing fealty to the guild. With the turn of his head, many swoon at his smile.
A towering figure of 7’1” and 300 pounds of pure muscle and sinew, Dom is larger than any half-orc you have seen. His nearly perfect white skin seems like it has never seen the sun. There are silver scales that cover nearly the rest of his body. His copper-colored spiky hair is kept short. A mithril headband of beauty rests upon his temples with light blue sapphires augmenting its simplicity. His eyes match the light blue sapphires of the headband, pools for interests to fall into. An intricate black leather belt with three glowing sunstones resides on his waist, with multiple sheathes which you soon find out hold wands. Metal gauntlets reside on his hands with a silver band with a glowing ruby. Upon his neck looks to be an amulet made of chunks of ice. Finally upon his feet are black leather boots with mithril fittings. Glowing yellow lightning bolts are on the outside of each of the boots.
"May they flourish and grow," Desseer responds ceremonially. "Great Matron Moon," he continues dramatically, "We bring foods from our home to share as our relationship grows! May we join the banquet and feast together?"
She chuckles and isn't the only of the witches to realize Desseer just asked a question. She states, "Indeed to our relationship growing! Please bring your food and join us in celebration."
Music begins playing as the elders gather in Heather's hut. There are many more witches or trolls you could speak with.
The grippi begin serving and producing tables as needed. They also add more lighting if needed.
Domayoku and Shashanta sit together, while Bela takes a plate of food and flies out the window to begin her watch.
After feasting, the two fiends walk among the witches and trolls, making small talk and discussing life inside a witch's coven.
At midnight, during the festivities, the Matron collects her elders and their honored guests into Heather's hut. Once all are settled, she casts a spell, and you hear bells. Down the chimney comes a puff of magic. The cloud quickly disperses as an elderly man in red goes, "Ho! Ho! Ho!"
Assuming no one interrupts him, he begins passing out items. He does say, "Your character's background might put you on the naughty list, but this is a redo for you! Most of them have actually done really well on the nice list. Not you Minerva." About a third of the elders don't get a present. Looking at Domayoku, she states, "You get it this time, but I am sure Krampus will see you next year. It's likely most of the Seeds of Slaughter, too. Dominique, we will see about next year!" He hands each of you a small present.
Soon enough, he exclaims, "Merry Christmas to all and all a good night!" He is up the chimney with a wiggle of his nose. Soon, he, his reindeer, and sleigh fly off into the sky as he chuckles with jolly.
Domayoku, and anyone else that gets a diplomacy DC 20 check, you find that most of the witches are in exile. Some have only been here for a few years but many for decades or centuries.
You can easily spread your ideas and seed among the witches. They will welcome you gladly, at least most of them. The white witches are likely to abstain.
The life inside of this witches coven is rituals. Many of the witches have their specialties but there are the weekly rituals that all of them have to attend. Something about protecting the coven, empowering the elders, and making any new bonds as needed.
You now know nearly every elder's name, her likes, and if she is interested in a tyrst with you to make your prodigy. Oh that is a lot of them.
Give me some ideas!
We could use Specials from classes, Domain powers, oracle mysteries, or spell-like abilities.
As time allows, Domayoku will likely breed with at least two witches tonight.
Domayoku carefully opens his present from the Elder Fey to reveal a pink rhomboid ioun stone.
She walks out in her gown shimmering like a cascade of stars. Crafted from deep midnight blue silk, it flowed effortlessly to the floor, the hem gently grazing the floorboards beneath her. The fabric seemed to shimmer with a subtle enchantment, reflecting the light in a way that made her look as though she were surrounded by a soft, ethereal glow.The bodice, embroidered with intricate silver thread, hugged her slender frame, tracing the curves of her waist before flaring out into the skirt. Delicate, dark lace spiraled up the sleeves, fading into a gentle mist as they reached her wrists, where fine silver bracelets twinkled softly in the night. Her hair, black as raven feathers, cascaded in loose waves, adorned with tiny, glowing crystals that flickered like fireflies. Her eyes, a captivating shade of emerald green, seemed to hold ancient secrets, while her lips were painted a shade of deep crimson, like fresh berries in the dusk.
In her hand, she held a slender silver wand, etched with runes, which she twirled absentmindedly. The gown and her presence radiated a quiet power—one that spoke of magic not just from spells, but from the quiet confidence and mystery that she carried with every step.
She smiled at Myrianna and whistled. She states, "You look ravishing. Thank you for the aid of your... minions... servants... I am not sure what to call them.
Myriana saw Iris when she finally appeared, and her eyes widened and her mouth feltl open as she stared entranced at the vision of loveliness before her. "Y-y-y-y-y-y-y-y-y-y-y-y-y-y-you're I-i-iris-chan gorgeous, nya!" Myriana was having trouble stinging words together in the proper order at the sight before her. Myriana remained in a near stunned state for quite some time until Iris had to lead her to meet everyone else so they could go to the party, and it was quite some time before Myriana could collect enough of her whits to say much of anything.
___
[quote-Iris]She likely follows Myriana hovering above from where they had just teleported. Or whatever magic she had used. She knew she did not have the prestige to be called a champion. If nothing else she flies down and advances on foot. Unless someone else has something in mind.
Myriana would hear nothing of Iris being left out of the pageantry and when they popped out, she included her lover with her in her own descent turning the whole thing into a fairy waltz as they landed and stealing a kiss in front of everyone just to make clear what their relationship was. No one would be stealing Iris from this fey-catgirl!
Myriana stayed close to Iris during the party and mingled and talked much like the others. Myriana was enjoying this, getting to know people native to this land and not needing to worry about blood-thirst made her incredibly happy.
___
When midnight came and the magic happened on the chimney Myriana was quickly on guard, but it became evident in short order that this was not something to fear. In fact, the jolly old man in red and white with a big sack appeared and Myriana's eyes practically popped out of her head. She knew who this was, even if she hadn't believed he was real. She knew of the tradition of Christmas on her old world but had never once gotten a thing on it like the old stories said was supposed to happen. Her family, what little she remembered of them, were too poor for that, and when she had become a courtesan and attended parties with her current Master she was never to receive anything either.
Myriana was so stunned she wasn't sure how to react but seeing what happened, and hearing what Santa said about the whole guild getting something since this was their do over but that they needed to work to stay on the good list in the future Myriana knew what she needed to do. She might have to do bad things, but she was going to try and take the least bad options if she could manage it from here on out.
When it came Myriana's turn to get her gift she did this strange teleporting-fly-tackle and glomphed onto Santa Clause as she said, "I didn't think you were real but you are, nya!" She nuzzled a cheek against him and purred as she hugged the jolly man in red and cried. "I-i-i've nyaver gotten anyathing before, even as a kid, why did that happen, nya? Did our home become so bad you just didn't visit anyamore?"
___
When Myriana finally collected herself enough to get her gift from the bag she said happily, "Thank you Santa-dono!" Myriana took her gift back to where Iris was and began to open it. Inside was a rod, one that she quickly identified as a rod that would change her spells damage type to acid. There was also a mixture of gold and gems inside the packaging as well as a large ball of tough looking yarn! Myriana was more than delighted and she began to rub her cheek against the rod for a bit as she snuggled up to Iris.
Santa, a little started by the tackle, recovers quickly and returns a grandfatherly hug to Myriana. Chuckling he replies to her, "Girl, I am made of Christmas Magic. Either Earth lost its magic, not enough believing, or the naughty list is full. Here, they call me Grandfather Winter, but I can go by Santa Claus, too. Parallel worlds and such. You stay on the good list and I will see you again next year!"
She does leave Myriana to try to socialize. even as she hovers she would jump up to grab her, pulling Myriana down to socialize as well.
She takes her present from the Gifter, thanking him silently. She delicately unwraps the gift to find a small cherry wood chest. Within she finds a gown, necklace, a cherrywood wand and more wealth she has ever seen.
Her voice returns as he wiggles his nose, she cries out, "Thank you Granfather Winter!"
The red-suited, jolly man makes his way over to where Desseer is standing, having risen from his seat during the display. He pulls a pouch out of his bag and holds it from the top toward Desseer. Desseer, with narrowed eyes raises both hands in a cup to receive the pouch.
Before releasing the pouch into Desseer's hands, Santa looks him in the eyes and simply says, "Some good beginning materials, and yes, I am."
When the pouch hits Desseer's hands his eyes widen. He quickly opens the pouch and pulls out a couple shards of quartz roughly the size of a human finger and covered in flowing sigils. He looks to the jolly old man with a profound look of surprise. Which, the man responds to with a smile and a wink.
As Santa moves on, Desseer watches him, still with narrowed eyes, but what appears to be a genuine smile touching his mouth.
Ink opens the package and is strangely unsure what he sees. As he does he seems oddly shocked at the various inks, pens and journals within.
Minor wands are in there. He examines them but knows not what they do. he looks at Sinkerklaas
" Thank you Sinterklaas I do not deserve such things." he says placing the gear and goods into a Magical pouch.
Desseer does his best to spend a much time with Matron Moon as reasonable for the social situation. He mingles with the rest of the party goers in the off time, making a point to get to know as many of their people as possible. During the mingling, he often asks about geography to try to expand his mental map.
Desseer easily spends half of the party with Matron Moon.
Many of them fear you. But your diplomacy and work of your people assuages those fears for the most part.
Do you try to engage with Matron Moon on a more intimate level? You feel she might be open to it. You know that you could take any of the witches if you wanted...
Ink the Spot just watches and tries to learn about these witches, their coven, minions, and such. You do find it a little strange that the coven would have both good and evil witches. Maybe Yin and Yang?
The party winds down at about 2 in the morning and most have found a bed to rest in or have more intimate encounters. Hours later many of you are exhausted and likely fall asleep with new friends. It is well afternoon before you wake up. Servants are on hand to help with hangovers, and anything else you might need.
Ink will approach any of the women with tattoos and begin to admire them.
Should he find one he will strike up a conversation.
Ink finds many of the witches having tattoos. There is one in particular that seems to be a canvas herself, as she has sprawling visages of heroes fighting monsters.
'I love your Ink, tell me what stories do they tell?" he asks his skin shifting constantly to match hers.
With the gathering dying down and Father Winter gone Myriana enjoyed sitting with Iris and snuggling close to her. As they sat she looked up at Iris and asked, "This was fun nya. A new group of allies made without having to hurt anyone."
The witch turns to you, her eyes gleaming like embers in the dim light. A faint, mischievous smile plays on her lips as she gestures to the vivid tattoos on her skin. Each illustration seems to shimmer faintly, almost as if alive.
“These, dear seeker, are tales etched in flesh—stories of triumph, loss, and legacy. Here,” she says, pointing to her forearm, where a hero clad in radiant armor battles a shadowy beast, “is the tale of the Champion of Dawn, who banished the Eternal Night from the land. His sword was said to burn with the first light of creation.”
She traces a finger up her arm to a dark expanse where a lone figure stands against a writhing sea of serpents. “This is the Wanderer’s Resolve. He walked into the heart of the Abyss to rescue his beloved, armed with only a promise and his unwavering will.”
Her voice softens as she places a hand over her heart, where a phoenix is depicted soaring through flames, its wings outstretched in vibrant, fiery hues. “And here, the story of rebirth. A city consumed by fire, and from its ashes, a people united stronger than ever.”
She pauses, her gaze lingering on you. “Each image carries its power, its truth, and its curse. They are not just ink, but echoes of lives lived, of battles fought. Now tell me, what story would your ink tell, if given the chance?”
" If unchecked my body dances with imagry and word. A literal moving canvas of emotion and story. Its a blessing and a curse. Still my other body had many stories of my deeds and ranks. This however is more fluid."
He pauses then smiles. " Now I do write and scribe a variety of tales and place them in the world gifting them the vary tales and history I have compiled." he says as he looks her over.
" How much of your body holds these tales?"
She replies to Ink, "Interesting, I would enjoy adjusting my ink. Most of my body holds these tales."
She agreed with Myriana, "Indeed new allies and friends. Though I am not used to having to hurt someone to make it work out. Something with your group perhaps? Would you explain it to me?"
Myriana considered how to answer Iris' request for an explanation for a moment before responding slowly, "Where we were before being nya...well nya...here," she gestured vaguely to imply the world in general, "Our guild was not known to be very nyaice. It was, in fact, knyaown to actively hunt down others and kill them. Manya groups tried to bring us down but nyaone succeeded. I was nyaot a part of them then, but I was hired to infiltrate them and provide information so they could be taken down by others that feared them nya. I was an accomplished spy and managed to get inside nya but then was caught and turned into a vampire nya when I wouldn't talk nya. That forced me to talk, and I lured my friends into a trap nya."
Myriana's ears drooped and she sounded very guilty and sad, "I didn't have a choice nya, the one that turned me could force me nya," she was doing her best to couch this in terms that would make sense since that actually gave the person that turned her access to her logs and let them impersonate her personal communications to others. She still felt guilt over it all regardless and it still bothered her that her former guild mates all left the game rather than accept what happened to their characters.
"Nyao one would accept a vampire in thrall to anyather guild and I was stuck with this one nya." With a sight Myriana leaned over and put her head on Iris' lap, "They aren't so bad nyaow. The worst ones are gone nya, left for places unknyaown, and nyaow we are here."
Ears twitching Myriana's eyes started to drift closed as she mumbled, "I hope we can change nya, I don't want to kill and slaughter nya. Nyaip and happinyaess for...ll." The by now rather worn out felinoid woman was starting to drift off happily using Iris' lap for a pillow.
" Oh you would well I am quite fluid, if you like we could go somewhere and show off out ink, as well as maybe talk somemore about stories and legend! I will say I can change into an ooze, but O am telepathic, so fear not if I mjst revert to my true form" he says gesturing for the woman to lead the way to whatever provate place they can go and "talk"
She seems genuinely interested and states, "Wow that is interesting. That is such an adventurous life style." A bit quieter leading into a whisper she says, "Well from what I have seen, I like you all. Some more than others but that is how it is." She strokes Myrianna's head and ears helping her drift off to sleep.
She seems slightly interested and gets up, saying "Come on." She leads Ink away to her private hut. Where many more pictures are on the walls including my tattoo designs. You see her set of tattoo needles and other mechanisms. She has a seat on her couch and waits to see what Ink has in mind.
Ink will inside smile as he bows."I see you are an artist, and one who specializes in ink>" he says with a smile as he looks about and then speaks.
'Do you mind if I assume a more comfortable As well as speak telepathically" he says as he begins to reabsorb his clothes showing more of his tattooed body, some with the eerie imagry of his former life, but this time the hanging man struggles, or the men dagger plunging into the heart. The eye actually crying.
She nods to Ink, after speaking to her, she thinks, ::Yeah I am not much of a talker but thinking is much easier.:;