The demons vanished in a puff of smoke, having only managed to deal out some property damage and several flesh wounds. The mouth-portal in the sky's smile turned into a deep frown, and the music cut off abruptly with a record scratch. The maw let out a deep, yet somehow whiny, "Oh, come ooooooon," before it collapsed in on itself with a loud crunching sound. That day, Asmodeus earned himself a follower in Drake, who went on to preach his name to all who would listen.
----------------------------------------
Letter to Asmodeus:
Asmodeus finds a scrap of suspiciously human-looking leather in his throne room, with a note written in a very loopy and flowery handwriting. The message on it is short and to the point.
Dick move, man. Dick move.
-----------------------------------------
Elsewhere, Babaki furiously squeezed and crushed the unfortunate Quasit chosen to be his stress ball for the day. "Well, THAT was embarrassing! VERRUCKT!" the god shouted, startling his herald. "If anybody asks, that was some demon lord. A demon lord decided to be unusually festive, and tried to destroy a world, but got humiliated by Asmodeus. That is our story, and we're sticking to it." The demon blinked twice before nodding. "..̴.Of ͏c̸ou̵rs̸ę,҉ ͘my ̵l̴o̧r̵d̷. Whàt͠ev͏er̴ yo̢ú s͝ay͞."͢
On a distant Imperial colony, a man called Drake sat at his chair in the communication hub. It was his job to check all incoming and outgoing messages between the small colony and other Imperial outposts, a job so tedious and boring it was a miracle that he hadn't snapped years ago. His glazed eyes slowly slid back and forth across the dozen or so screens in front of him, reading line upon line of boring technical jargon and inane small talk. He close to falling asleep; so close, in fact, that a loud crackle of static from the screen closest to him nearly made him fall out of his chair in shock. Annoyed, Drake glared at the screen, watching the text blur and warp. To Drake's surprise, the static turned purple, and a garbled voice could be heard coming from the screen. The static suddenly stopped, revealing a leering clown face floating in front of a purple backdrop.
"Hello there, my good man!" the clown said, grinning widely at Drake. "I thought I'd give you a heads up on what's about to happen. Can't start a party unannounced, after all!" Drake's eyebrows furled in annoyance. Damn kids and their weird-ass pranks, he thought, Second time this week the thing's been hacked. I've got to remember to complain to the tech department. Drake pushed the reboot button for that screen, but the clown remained on the screen. "Oh, how cute! You think this is a joke! Listen here, Drake," the clown sneered at the startled worker. "My servants and I have been talking, and we decided to go and have a grand day out in the mortal world! But, alas! Your Imperium decided to try and ruin our day!" Drake stared blankly at the clown head, trying to process how he knew his name. "Now, I know what you're thinking," he continued. " 'What the heck is this guy talking about?! I'm so confused right now!' Well, don't you worry your pretty little head about it! Just know that your home has been randomly selected to host our party, and that, one of us is about to have a really bad day. And to be honest?" The clown leaned closer to the screen, his eyes glowing purple. "I'm planning on having a really good one! Ciao!" With that, the screen turned back into purple static.
The ground started shaking underneath Drake's feet, and he heard a chorus of horrified shrieks from outside. Rushing to the window, he followed the crowd's gaze up to the sky. Hovering about a hundred feet in the air was a disembodied smile, with teeth jagged like a shark's. The mouth opened, revealing a swirling purple portal deep in its throat. From the portal poured peculiar music, soft at first but quickly growing louder and faster. To Drake's horror, a hulking, monstrous form leaped from the mouth, landing right in the middle of the crowd with a loud thud and crushing some of the terror-stricken bystanders. He quickly closed the curtains, and ran to his door to lock it. From outside he heard the sound of gunfire, the few guardsmen in the small colony desperately trying to take the creature down. As he bolted the door shut, Drake heard several more thuds from outside, and the screaming grew louder and more desperate. He scurried under his desk and grabbed his small pistol, clutching it desperately even as he heard the gunfire cease outside and the screams rapidly be silenced. Making himself as small as possible, bracing himself as he heard the creatures begin slamming on his door, he prayed to any god that would listen for solace.
Babaki grins at Vortae. "Was that a bit of rage I saw there, Vortae? You may be more interesting than I gave you credit for! Now, I'm afraid I must be going. I have preparations to make!" Babaki grabs Verruckt's hand, drags him over to Zodaxus, and eagerly snatches his gift bag away. "I must say, Zodaxus, that this party was significantly more tolerable than I had though it would be! My complements to the host." With that, Babaki and Verruckt vanish in a puff of purple smoke.
The Carnival:
At The Carnival, things were no different than usual. The sounds of laughter and screams filled the hot air, and the fleshy Abyssal ground was crawling with disturbing, puppet-limbed larvae trying their hands at various carnival games. The fiendish Maenads were frolicking in their blood-stained dresses, the Vrocks were picking off any weak-looking stragglers, and the Gibbering Mouthers were shrieking their beautiful chorus. Everything was as usual, until the ground started shaking.
From the earth a purple tar burst out in a huge geyser, the sludge forming twisted limbs and faces seemingly at random. The tar snaked into the sky like a dragon, and the end of it formed a familiar, clownish face. Every monster, demon, and larva stopped what they were doing and knelt, despite knowing full well that Babaki never really cared if his minions bowed to him or not. The grinning god slowly looked over each and every creature in his vicinity, before clearing his throat. "GOOOOOD MOOOORNING, CARNIVAAAAAL!!! HOW'RE Y'ALL DOING TODAY?!" Babaki shouted in a tone straight from a game show, knowing his voice would carry to every nook and cranny of his domain. The kneeling masses stood up, and let loose a noise somewhere between an excited cheer and a war cry, and most of them with limbs started clapping. The oozing form of the god put two of his hands up to stop the applause, and continued. "Good to hear, good to hear! Seems you all are doing great! BUT!" the god gestured dramatically, "I bet you could all use a holiday!" Some of the crowd cheered, although most of them remained silent and avoided eye contact with their master. Babaki grinned, all of his dozens of eyes glinting with a purple fire. "Well TOO F+$*ING BAD!"
Every creature in the crowd flinched, and the ones who cheered stopped dead. Several of Babaki's eyes glared directly at the ones that cheered, while the rest gazed over the crowd. "Are you suggesting that The Carnival isn't the greatest holiday you could ever possibly have?! BLASPHEMY! But I'll overlook your blatant lies for now. I have good news!" Some of the hate left his eyes, although he didn't stop staring at the blasphemers. "We're going to have a party in the mortal world!" Every assembled monster cheered loudly, clapping and laughing and howling in a display that would horrify almost anyone who witnessed it. "Seems some mortals are getting a bit too big for their britches! They think they can stamp out chaos from the world! It's our job to show them just how silly that idea is!" The monsters continued their revelry, until Babaki slapped an enormous oozing hand on the ground, crushing a horde of larvae.
"But before we do that," the god continued, bringing his hand up and clenching it into a fist with the larvae still in it. "we need some UPGRADES!" The Lord of Teeth opened his hand, and from where larvae once were fell a pack of Shemhazian demons with brightly painted faces. Babaki looked over the remaining larvae, many terrified but many others seeming eager, and sprouted dozens of new hands from all over his form. "Now, then. WHO'S NEXT?!"
Haven't posted in a few days, so I thought I'd get a bit of writing done.
Vortae considers for a moment, unable to shake the incongruity of the Laughing Man's subdued behavior.
"There is something, I think: I could use Your help. There is a powerful civilization, a spacefaring empire that has managed to conquer a truly impressive number of worlds over the course of a few dozen millennia. For all its power and age, it's spectacularly unenlightened, and its preoccupation with Order has only intensified exponentially. They're now poised on developing reliable mass planar travel, and they will use it to strike at Our realms - and We cannot permit them to discover the secrets of pocket universe construction, which they almost certainly would have if they weren't so sanctimonious and stupid. It's all become something of a cancer, and I say it's high time it was pruned. I was thinking their ongoing War On Chaos - yes, they actually call it that, if You can believe it - is worth You and I and a few other Chaos gods forming a coalition of Our forces for an enjoyable excursion of liberation, discovery, and vengeance."
Am I ripping off WARHAMMER 40,000? Yes, yes I am.
Babaki's eyes, previously glazed over with boredom, flash with an intense, primitive fire. "Oh! Vengeance, you say?! If you had something this interesting to share before, why didn't you just say so?!" Babaki's grin grows wider and more feral, and he shoves his plate into Verruckt's waiting hands. "I've been dying to have some fun in the mortal realm lately! And I know for certain that all of my followers would LOVE to help us scrape this little tumor off!" The Lord of Teeth slaps his hand onto Vortae's shoulder in a friendly manner, albeit quite a bit harder than is strictly necessary. "So, tell me more, friend! Who exactly are they? What are their weapons like? What races are they mostly? Why do they fight?! How can I break them?! Whoops! Got a little excited there. I suppose I'll find the answers to my questions soon enough! Just one quick question, though; who else is going to be in on our little adventure?"
"That's quite something," Vortae finally responds, the Lonely One's conversation skills not being the best in the pantheon.
Vortae's head tilts sideways at an odd angle, as though studying Babaki. He's keeping something hidden, He thinks to Himself. What could He possibly feel the need to hide from Me? 'Bashful' is one thing I never took Him of all gods for.
Babaki continues sloppily eating the meat, and looks at Vortae suspiciously. "Yes, it is indeed something! Did you want something, or did you just feel like wasting some time with me?"
Babaki looks up from his plate of meat, a slab of pork hanging out of his mouth. He swallows it own hard, before speaking. "Ah, hello there Vortae! The Abyss is splendid, as always. I swear, The Carnival looks better every time I look at it!"
"Irrelevant." Lolth says languidly, stretching out like a cat would in a comfortable spot. "Mortals mean nothing, if they turn from me I'll just torment them even more! They are an expendable resource, meant for my enjoyment, and I raise them up or tear them down as whimsy strikes."
"Suit yourself, dear Lolth!' Babaki says, shrugging. He leans in close, and whispers into her ear. "But, just between you and me, mortals do have their uses. Where do you think demons come from?" Babaki backs off, and finishes off his steak. "This was a lovely chat, but I've got important business with the snack bar. Talk to you later! Come along, Verruckt."
Babaki leisurely strolls in the general direction of the snack bar, Verruckt by his side. The monster looks up to his master, and says "Siré,̷ for̨giv̨e me͠ for ͞saying̢ thi̕s, ̡bu̢t͞ ̵I͘ ̧d͜ơn̶'t̡ ̨se̴e ͞why̛ ͠y͞ou͡ ͟t̕a̕lk ́t̢o ͢her̶. ҉Sh͡é's no͜t ͟e͘xa̡c͡tl̸y̴ ́g͘rea͜t comp͞a̕ny͞.̶" Babaki doesn't even look at Verruckt as he responds. "Verruckt, my boy, when you live on the same plane as that woman, you try your damnedest not to get on her bad side. Plus, she's a real looker!" Babaki stops at the snack bar to pile his plate completely full of raw pork, and Verruckt simply shrugs and swirls his tongue around his cup of wine absentmindedly.
Lolth, her dark skinned face seeming to gleam somehow even in the dim light, just smiles. "Mortals are just mortals Babaki, what can they do but what is in their nature? Which I see is to be chaotic and selfish in their actions and fail at their endeavors, though I have great sympathy for their frail mortal natures." She says, savoring a chocolate fed to her by one of the attractive party goers, then; "Not that that keeps me from punishing them for their failures, or heck, even when they succeed sometimes."
Babaki chidingly wags a finger at Lolth. "That's going to get you nowhere fast," Babaki said. "Sending mixed signals to your followers can really f!+% up your day, in the end!" He pauses to take a huge bite from his steak before continuing. "Trust me. In my younger days, I nearly ran out of worshipers because I punished the wrong people at the wrong time! It was hilarious, of course, but it took a long ass time to build their numbers back up."
Decided to write a bit about one of Babaki's creations.
Milda's Children:
Among the elves, there is a legend that tells of a princess, of beautiful appearance but little wisdom. The tales say that she was to be wed to a rich and powerful duke, but felt no love for him. In fact, she hated the duke with a passion, and begged her unfeeling father to change his mind. As is often the case with this kind of tale, he refused to listen. So, fearing the looming prospect of a marriage to someone she hated, the princess did all she could; she prayed. For weeks on end she prayed, shutting herself off from all who tried to console her, begging any god who would listen to delay the worst day of her long life. On the day before the ceremony, as she lay in bed, she dreamed of a tall elvish man sitting by her bedside and talking to her.
"Why, you poor dear!" the man cried, and unmoving grin on his face. "How pitiable! Such a beauty in her prime, forced to marry such a disgusting man!"
"Please, sir," the princess begged, "Be you god or demon or worse, I care not! Please don't let this happen! Give me a week, just one week, and I'll be able to sneak away from this place. I'm sure of it!"
"A week, huh? Is that all?" The man smiled widely, and started cackling. "Well, dear, I'd be happy to help. I'll give you your week, as long as you give me something of yours."
"Anything! I'll give you anything!" the elven girl cried.
The man's smile grew wider, as the dream started to fade out. "Well then, consider it done!"
The princess awoke to a lot of commotion. In the night, some manner of beast had gotten into the garden where the wedding was to be held and destroyed everything that had been set up. The king, too proud to have the ceremony with anything less than perfect decorations, ordered the wedding area to be rebuilt within one week. The princess laughed with joy, but recoiled at the noise that came out; a harsh, choking sound that made her maids flinch with every cackle. Although not pleased with her new laugh, the princess was satisfied with the mayhem and glad to have the chance to flee on her own terms. That night, she attempted to sneak out under cover of darkness. Alas, the guards found her, and dragged her back to her room. For the rest of the week, the princess was unable to go out at night, as the night watch had stepped up their guard. Desperate for a solution, she once again resigned herself to prayer. The night before her rescheduled wedding, the man from her dream returned, looking even happier than last time.
"Why, hello again!" the man laughed. "Good to see you, dear. What do you need this time?"
"Please, sir!" the princess cried. "I have need of your aide once more! My escape attempt failed, and now that dreaded day is growig closer! But I believe I have come up with another way to flee. Please, just give me one more week!"
The man chuckled darkly. "Another week? Surely this attempt couldn't take that long. But, you asked for it, and I am more than happy to deliver! If, of course, you can pay my price."
"Any cost is fine. Anything to avoid him!" the foolish young woman cried.
The man smiled even wider, and the dream abruptly ended. The princess woke up to discover that one of the groom's best men had been savaged by some kind of wild animal. The duke, almost as perfectionist as the king, had sent for one of his friends from his homeland. It would take at least a week for him to arrive. The princess smiled at this news, causing her maids to gasp in horror. She looked into a mirror, and discovered that her formerly perfect teeth had been replaced with jagged, pointed cones obviously designed to rip and tear. The princess, disgusted at her new teeth but delighted to be free for another week, decided to put her plan into motion. Breaking her bedroom window, she adorned her Ring of Feather Falling and leaped out. Unfortunately, the guards snatched her on the way down, and thus the princess was locked in her room for a full week. As the day of her wedding grew closer, the foolish princess prayed more and more, but didn't have any more dreams about the smiling man. On the day of her wedding, she muttered prayers under her breath the entire day, even as she was fitted for a veil and a dress. As she walked down the aisle, her groom already waiting for her, the prayed to the smiling man specifically, begging for his aide. As she approached her soon-to-be-husband, she felt her eyes start to burn, and her mouth formed a wide grin.
The groom, so exited to finally see his new wife in her gown, slowly lifted up her veil. What he found, however, was not the lovely face of an elvish princess. Her eyes were small and perfectly round, her teeth jutting out into jagged spikes. Most disturbing of all, however, was the enormous, open-mouthed smile that took up more than half her face. The noble recoiled in horror as his bride grabbed his shoulders and sank her teeth deep into his neck. The now crazed and blood-soaked princess laughed long and hard as the groom sank to the ground, gasping with his last breaths an order to kill her. The guards advanced, but the monstrous princess simply leaped over their heads and fled into the woods.
It is said that, to this day, she and her spawn lurk in dark woods and caves, eagerly seeking out elvish men to feast on.
Milda's Children: The slender, violent monstrosities known only as Milda's Children lurk in forests where elves are known to live. They appear to be young elvish women, save for their beady eyes, jagged teeth, and enormous mouths permanently twisted into smiles. They are exclusively carnivores, preferring elf flesh above all others. They reproduce asexually, growing lumps on their backs that eventually break off and form new Milda's Children. The offspring resemble their mothers, plus they take after some of the male elves that the mother had eaten. They mostly revere Babaki as the creator of their race, although they readily take to the worship of almost any particularly violent deity or demon lord.
Seeing Zodaxus get distracted, Babaki and Verruckt take the opportunity to slink off back to the snack bar. Babaki takes a plate of raw steak, and the two move off to the crowd surrounding Lolth. "Well, hello there!" Babaki calls to the Queen of Spiders. "Its been ages! You never call anymore. How's the 'snuff out the sun' plan going? Still going nowhere?" The Lord of Teeth leers at her unpleasantly, chewing on the slab of meat as he talks. "I kid, I kid! I'm sure you'll make it happen eventually. Probably."
Meanwhile, Verruckt silently swirls his tongue around his cup of wine, observing the other party goers and their habits for later use.
Been brainstorming a bit since Tharros isn't a party person and wasn't invited anyway. The "Liked by" section in the spreadsheet is even empty. You're hurting poor Tharros' feelings guys. =(
Don't worry, Tharros. No one likes Babaki either, and he's doing alright!
Tharros, God of Decay wrote:
Maybe do some world building and have a conflict arise between our followers? My initial thoughts were to have two competing apocalypse cults fighting it out, one that is actively trying to bring destruction to their home world - summoning eldritch horrors and whatever else they can get their hands on - and one that wants it to end the 'right' way. Open to suggestions.
Sounds good to me! I'm thinking about a sect within Babaki's worshipers who believe that they could earn demigodhood by bringing catastrophic destruction to a world in Babaki's name. Sound good to you?
Zodaxus teleports in front of Lathander and Babaki. "Awww," he says, a smile spreading across his face. He turns to Lathander. "Nice to see you Sunny Boy!" He says, opening his arms for Lathander's prefered greeting.
He turns his head and nods at Babaki as Lathander glomps him. "You too, Pennywise. I mean that. I'm celibrating my life's work today, and I'm glad to see you here for that."
Babaki bows deeply, maintaining eye contact the whole while. "I'm just glad to be involved!" he says, glancing at Verruckt who is slowly coming to join him. "I know we've had our...differences regarding freedom in the past, but it's good to know I'm not on your s%~# list yet!" Babaki pauses to take a deep swig of his cup before continuing. "I take it you already know Verruckt?"
For just a moment, Babaki's face contorts to a hideous mask of deep, seething rage. Remembering where he is, he quickly returns to his usual grinning face, albeit noticeably forced. "Uh, yes! G-good to see you too, Lathander." Babaki shape-shifts into a significantly smaller version of his shoggoth form, and oozes his way from the overenthusiastic god's grasp. "It is good to see you in your usual good spirits, I suppose."
Meanwhile, Verruckt stands in the corner, watching the display with a neutral expression and poking his tongue into a cup of red wine. "̧I̶ ho͝pę t̷hi͜s i̶s̨ ̡w̶ha̢t͝ ýou ̴w͏ańted̡,̷ M҉as̸ter̵," he calls across the rooms.
Babaki enters the palace confidently, followed closely by his hideous herald Verruckt. "M͞a͡s̶t̷e̸r," the beast whispers to Babaki in a disgusting gurgle. "I̢'m̧ a͘f̷r͟a̧i͞d ̸I ̷d͢o͘n'͘t ͘ùn̸derstan͞d ̕ẁh̷y̢ wè h͠a҉v͡e͢ ̡t҉o ̵bę he͡re. Do͏n͞'t͟ y͡o͝u͢ ̴h̡àte Z̷o͡daxús͟?̵" The god grins down at his herald, a strange light in his eyes. "Oh, but of course I do!" he loudly whispers back. "If I had my way, we'd already be feasting on his entrails. But he did go out of his way to invite me, so there was really nothing I could do!"
The monster looks at his master incredulously. "Şíre, ̀please̕ ̛forg͘iv҉e m͝é ̛f͡o͟r spe͜a̕k̢i̛ng҉ ou̷t͡ ̕o̷f ̛l͏in̡e,̡ ̵but t͝ha͞t i̴s͠..͘.r͠a̡t̕her ştu͠p̀i̷d.̛" The monster flinches back, as if expecting to be hit, but Babaki makes no move to strike him. "Now, now, Verruckt! You of all people should know the value of good manners. You see..." Babaki leans in close to his herald, and hoarsely whispers into his ear. "I'm not exactly the most popular god." The Lord of Teeth makes an exaggerated expression of shock, while Verruckt just silently stares at him. "Can you believe it?! It seems the others don't much care for my brand of fun. But, if I'm seen socializing like a 'normal' being, they may change their tune yet!"
Verruckt simply stares at his master for several seconds, before turning away. "̕If ͜yǫu͠ s͞ay̡ so͝, ̧M͢a-" The monster is cut off by Babaki rushing to the snack bar, leaving Verruckt in the dust. Babaki snatches one of the cups from the hands of the bartender, and it immediately fills with rich, dark alcohol. The Smiling Man grins up at the shocked bartender, before speaking. "Hello there, my good man! You wouldn't happen to have any gnome meat here, would you? The rarer the better!"
Updated the profile a bit with some information about Babaki's herald and unfortunate troll son.
Also, I'm really glad the invitation was expanded to almost everyone. After all, what kind of party doesn't have a clown? Besides, you know, fun parties.
Age-wise, I see Babaki as the type to be extremely coy about when and how he came about. Asking him will get you a different story each time. He could be an ascended Demon Lord, a notorious mortal serial killer granted godhood, a creature born from mortal's frustrations, a god of joy and laughter corrupted by the Elder Evils, or a primordial force of madness given the form of a clown, all depending on how creative he feels when asked. It can at least be said that he's younger than Vortae and older than Cyric, even though that really isn't saying much.
Babaki clung to the roof of the Grand Tent, his form that of a purple shoggoth with an oversized, leering clown head. He loomed over almost the entire Tent from his perch, watching the two beings in the central arena desperately fight for their lives. On the left side of the arena was Arkaidak, a bloated son of Babaki, towering over the arena in the shape of a four-armed red troll. To the right was Jerik, a banana-yellow vrock and the latest addition to the Grand Tent's impressive lineup of performers and gladiators. The stands where empty, as the Tent only opened when the mood struck its Master.
The Lord of Teeth watched with mild interest as the vrock ducked and dodged away from his son's iron claws. His attention was fully gained when Jerik jabbed at Arkaidak's ribs with his talons.
"No, no, NO!" the god cried as he oozed down the wall and slithered over to the pit. The combatants were momentarily paralyzed with fear as the god shifted from his shoggoth form to that of a short Orcish man, still with his trademark facepaint and unmoving grin. Babaki slapped his hand onto the vrock's shoulder, causing it to flinch. "Now, Jerik," the god said cheerfully, "I know you're new here, and that's fine! Everyone's a newbie at some point. However..." The god suddenly dug his nails into the demon's flesh, making it bite back a scream. "It seems you've misunderstood why you're here."
Babaki shoved the vrock onto the floor, and leered down at him with his unchanging smile. "You are here to entertain me. Now, that jab? That was a good hit. It probably hurt like a b~*##. But it didn't look painful, you hear me? In other words, it was kind of boring" The god turned to face his monstrous son, who at this point was standing completely straight and avoiding eye contact. "Now, Jerik? Look here. Watch me. Don't take your eyes off me for a second."
The god manifested a simple club in one hand, and threw it into the air before catching it again. Without warning, Babaki whipped the club into his son's knee, making a sickening crunch and eliciting a scream of agony from the monster. As it knelt down on its injured knee, Babaki swung the club directly into the troll's face, completely crushing its lower jaw and spraying blood on the floor. The vrock watched, transfixed as his master brutally brought the club down on the troll again and again.
The stupor was broken as Babaki spoke to him, not pausing his assault on the broken form of his son. "Now, the trick *WHAM* is to aim for *WHAM* where the bone is closest *WHAM* to the skin! This *WHAM* ensures that the impact *WHAM* isn't absorbed by the flesh! *WHAM*" The god looked down at the crushed remains of what was once his offspring, his face still a smiling mask but his eyes glowing with joy. "Thank you for your assistance, boy! You'll certainly be getting extra dessert this evening!"
The Lord of Teeth turned away from the already regenerating body of his child, and stared the vrock right in the eyes. "And that's all there is to it, my friend! Did you get all that," the god happily asked, "or would you like another demonstration? I believe my boy's had enough for today, so if you need more help, you'd need to stand in for him." Jerik, still slightly stunned by the intrusion on his fight, silently gave its master a thumbs up. If anything, the god's smile got bigger. "Splendid! In that case, I must be off. I'm looking forward to your performance tonight." Suddenly, the god vanished in a puff of purple smoke, leaving behind a very confused vrock and a very angry sack of regenerating troll bones.
Time for some opinions! Some of which turned out to be not as unpleasant as one would expect.
PC Gods:
Adriel: “Oh, now this is amusing. It thinks its a hero! How cute. You wouldn’t think someone of his age would still try and play the knight in shining armor. It’s gonna be a fun time making this one snap!”
Atheos: “I’m shocked this one hasn’t collapsed into a black hole yet! You’d think a god of atheism would just paradox himself out of existence, but alas! He’s still here. While the man himself is one of the most boring beings I’ve ever met, his existence is hilarious.”
Cil'Dr: “Such a shame, this one. If it weren’t for his unfortunate reliance on others, I think we’d be the best of friends! As it stands, he is far too stuffy for my tastes.”
Ishalla: “A lovely lady with an appreciation for a good set of fangs! What more could you want? Oh, wait! I know! A damn sense of humor. She also doesn’t see the inherent joy of tearing out a jugular, just seeing it as another part of the circle of life. Way to make my fun sound boring.”
Michazra: “This one. Oh, boy, this one! What I wouldn’t give to mess with her. She’s so focused on her petty ambitions, it just makes me want to ruin her day! I’d love to be there when her world inevitably crumbles around her.”
Osoro: “Taking the wonderful concept of a harem, and adding love to it? Absolutely disgusting”
Scrapeknee: “Not gonna lie, I like the cut of this guy’s jib. He certainly keeps things interesting around here, and boredom is one of the worst fates this world could fall to.”
Tharros: “This guy makes me angry just thinking about him! HOW DO YOU TAKE THE FUN OUT OF DEATH AND DESTRUCTION?! I DIDN’T EVEN THINK THAT WAS POSSIBLE! You, sir, are simply the worst.”
Vortae: “I don’t know who this thing is, or why this thing is even here still. As long as it stays out of my way, I probably won’t start anything. Probably.”
Zodaxus: “Listening to this guy talk is like chewing foil! I hate how he prances around, blabbing about freedom while making my favored toys question if they really want to keep having fun! I’d twist his wings off and shove them down his beak if I could, but I’m not dumb enough to try.”
NPC Gods:
Asmodeus: “I have never seen a stick so firmly shoved up anyone’s ass before. It is simply ridiculous, and not in the fun way. It’s funny as hell taunting him, though! I’ve recently sent him a gift basket full of half-succubus spiders, and I’m eagerly awaiting his response.”
Bane: “What do I think of Bane? Let me tell you. I am a being of wrath and fear, I take the form of a monstrous clown, and my tents are made of the still-squirming pelts of my enemies, and I think bane is trying way too hard to be evil. Tone it down, you dork.”
Cyric: “I like what he stands for, but I can’t stand the guy. He’s an absolute dumbass who thinks he’s better than he really is. I’m considering becoming a Greater God just for the purpose of smiting him and getting him out of everyone’s hair.”
Helm: “What is with this guy? He just stands there and watches the world go by. I’d rather just ignore him and hope he goes away, but it seems he’s not going anywhere anytime soon.”
Lathander: “I know I should probably hate this guy because he’s a goody-twoshoes who wants to see evil vanquished, but I really just hate him because of his unrelenting f*cking hope. It disgusts me to my very core.”
Lolth: “A damn fine woman with an excellent taste in sacrifices. I’d like to enjoy her company more, but she’s also a horrid b@%$% if you actually try and chat with her. I’m certainly going to keep my eyes on her…”
Loviatar: “I’m no stranger to torture myself, but it seems like she’s taken it much farther than I. I’d love to get to know her better, but it seems she is repulsed by me. I have no idea why!”
Mystra: “Could someone please tell me what the point of magic that doesn’t maim and kill is? Besides the spells that make you harder to kill, I see no point in the whole thing. The sentiment applies to magic’s mother as well, I’m afraid.”
Shar: “Frankly, Shar bores me. She doesn’t take as much joy in what she does as she should, and it annoys me.”
