Though the praise is received the only response is eternal apathy.
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As a wind of dark portent. It arrives.
In a universe of infinite possibilities that which is fueled by petulant rage is forever eternal. Never resting, always waiting for its moment to gurgle forth from its ichor encrusted hole and fill mens hearts with disgust for their fellow man.
I want you to know that I just updated (though not with more story yet) the "What does a "non-wuxia" high-level fighter look like?" to give you something to do Kobold Cleaver. No need to thank me, just helping out.*Flips table* The prayer heard the incomprehensible squiggly one settles into this nest of cyclopean terrors content in the pool of wailing souls its tiny cultist has thoughtfully provided. Even if this only slows the inevitable madness brought on by the attempt at comprehension towards its inexorable and all-devouring will. In an act both confusing and terrible the caster-martial disparity god calls forth a patch of darkness that further drives its cultist into deeper throes of both enlightenment and soul burning torment by showing them a picture of it's pit of birth.
/me Consumes.
Awakened by the arrogance of mortals the ichorous form of a being whose name kills those who even attempt it's utterance it yawns a twelve fold bellow of hate. Seven mad wizards claw out their eyes and rip off their genitalia in pure sexual celebration as cultists round the cosmos sacrifice themselves in anticipation of its rise. The Caster-Martial Disparity God's innumerable all penetrating tentacles seek out and find the buckets of popcorn scattered about by the milling, mewling mob, and gorges itself on the salty, buttery contents. The sound of impossible crunching is enough to flay the very souls of those nearby.
That which squirms between the folds of the grand cosmic veil wonders why it can't just be left to sleep eternally.
Whoa, walk away for a few hours, I get people casting me like ten times. I'm almost certain my verbal components are "caster versus martial disparities", although I do believe personal assumptions can empower me as well. And lo, with the utternace of one of the seven-fold forbidden phrases it stirs from its effluescent pit of gibbering madness. Groaning in a cry both pure pain and purest ecstasy the creature rises...
Munches quietly in the fertile field "Slowly digesting the souls of the restless the indeterminable squiggly one regards the zombie horse. Which promptly exploded into ichorous madness."
"The Beast stirs."
"Slithering in disturbance of it's deep and inefable slumber the All Consuming Madness of The Ages just wishes in it's cold alien hearts that the petty mortals would just let it sleep already."
"Through forbidden necromantic rites long forgotten to sane minds the beast has awoken."
"The Caster-MArtial Disparity god undulates lustily as its chosen priest's mad gibberings fill the so called sane ones ears with confusion and bewilderment.
In your ear you feel a tickle. It's strange sensation as if something is coming for you from far away. You focus your senses their and you can feel, rather than hear, a cacophony of voices all screaming in unison. You feel your mind crack and then shatter completely as the full glory of your black and oozing lords voice rends your soul in something like a cross between primal lust, black hate, and the most comforting love. You have been chosen, chosen to become his priest on this quaint three dimensional realm.
The many tentacled being of pure black doom accepts the offering from the dark overlord of emancipation complimenting him on his choice of headgear in a language that would cause a mortal to fall into gibbering madness as his gray matter leaked from his ears. It inquires in a voice that is not a voice in that it reverberates the soul rather than the all too fragile ear canal as to the status of the servants mate and offspring.
"Rising from the pit in a fountain of nightmarish screams and black toxic ichor the Caster Martial Disparity god sloughs away the dust of ages to vault into the black void of infinite space. As stars wink out of existence from the sheer horror of the black deities spine rending birth cries the undulating carapace of the Lord of All that Ends blots out the soothing warmth of ignorance."
*ahem*
"Slides a tentacle in."
"Woe unto those who call upon its fell name. For it is nigh impossible with humanoid tongues. To utter a syllable is to invite madness most foul."
"The Caster-Martial Disparity god pokes one of its innumerable heads in. It's very presence ripping the sanity from so called rational minds."
"Arising from the depths of the void the Caster-Martial Disparity God stares down upon the meek creatures of flesh and mathematics that seek to threaten a creature of pure narrative and rage. It absorbs the despair as they fight amongst themselves making it ever stronger. Ancient and evil beyond measure it's black writhing form makes a mockery of taunting laughter."
BARBARIAN PRETTY SURE ALL OF PIZAO AM SMASH DESTRUCITY. HOW AM DESTRUCITY NOT ALREADY DEAD AGAIN?"Nope." "In the black and rotting recesses of the void nest of the Caster-Martial Disaparity God one of its larval young oozes forth from the blackness and nests in the soul of a madman. As it approaches the foolish mortal black ichor spills forth from the madmans orifices as the worms of the apocalypse issue forth from the gibbering maniacs mouth and a spectral tendril reaches into the foolish barbarian's mind and plants alien words in its soul where they take root and grow into cancerous thoughts. From then on AM BARBARIAN knows the Truth. That three high powered characters in a realm based on mathematics cannot even approach a being that has existed before the advent of the very physics that created him. As the tendril delves deeper it bores through what's left of his sanity and opens up his perceptions and he knows that it was not the callous uncaring god that has sundered the stars, murdered millions, forced wizards to ruin the lives of billions of innocents and sacrifice hundreds of their own kind. In that moment the Caster Martial Disparity god shows him who the true monster is. For it has done nothing, it needs never do anything, for the uncaring god only needs to wait, and watch, for its greatest servant, AM BARBARIAN, has opened the gates, broken the seal, already men in armor have shattered causality as creatures consume drugs to become like gods, before long they would become gods and the original founders of this realm would be forced to shatter this realm as they have all the others and rebuild from scratch. The tendril writhes and consumes everything that made AM BARBARIAN unique and leaves him with the cold sadness of this revelation. The cycle has begun. All will end. And a new seed will be planted for the God to be reborn. Left in the hollow husk of what is left of the villain who deluded himself to be a hero all the Caster-Martial Disparity God leaves in his mind are two word gibbered endlessly as he suddenly sees what he has become, what he has done. Thank. You."
"Nope."
"As the heavens trembled from the shattering of the stars the Caster-Martial Disparity God merely watched and fed. As the magic users of the world increasingly grew into hermits that shied away from human company and the sight of harmless birds while normal men saw them all but disappear from the mortal realm the Caster-Martial Disparity God merely waited. As knights in armor atop ancient beasts pierced the veil between worlds the caster-martial disparity god watched. Writhing in its lair of pure oblivion surrounded by billions of its repulsive young the Caster-Martial Disaparity god watched as flightless birds took wing and soared into the skies. Still, it waited."
"As the skies blacken with the armies aligned against magic and for it the undulating horror of the Caster-Martial Disparity god feels something. Perhaps it is excitement, perhaps it is disdain. Its many eyes gaze casually at the ants that devour one another consuming their economies and sundering the heavens themselves. But still, it waits. For it is a god of the End. And even this is merely the beggining."
"Hearing the voice of dissent from the dark void of its nest a thousand ineffable larvae scatter from its baleful form as tendrils sneak between the pages of reality and snatch the tiny voices soul into it. Once inside the nest of nightmares the soul is then stretched and twisted in agonizing torment a thousand times merely from viewing one tenth of the dark magnificence that is the Caster-Martial Disaprity God. When the voice has been reduced into a gibbering form unfit for even the truth of existence the fell god stretches it around a glob of gelatinous eggs from which a thousand tiny apocalypses will burst from and render all innocence shattered."
"Fueled by the infinite back and forth and complete and total break down of causality the Caster Martial Disparity God watches with its many eyes as the pitiful creatures that once may have threatened it an eternity ago now fuel it. Settling it's inconceivable form in the heart of a light and life sucking black hole the Caster Martial Disparity god allows the mortals to continue feeding before it will be strong enough to shatter this universe leaving nothing behind but the egg of it's new form. The cycle of eternity continues and it is at the center of the wheel."
And still, in all that time, you haven't learned to spell "have" correctly. Geez. I know linguistics isn't a class skill for outsiders, but anyone with Int 10+ SHOULD know common, that language that is so strikingly similar to English. "It is difficult to type with a thousand thousand tendrils that exist both in and out of causality. Geez, by the way, is not a word in common. Your attempts at grammar correction, mortal, serve only to feed me. Prepare yourself. You will now incubate my young." *brandishes ovipostor*
Sounds good. I'll try to come up with a NPC/monster casty opponent that a GM could use to challenge a character like yours, and then I'll try to make a 20 pb PC casty that could defeat AM. "Mere constructs of mathematics cannot defeat that which is born in the dark heart of the player's soul. I ahve existed since the dawn of the red box. I will exist at the end of this pathfinding age. I. Am. Forever.
"Born from the rage of ten thousand argumentative posts, a creature of black hate and torment, of the power of improbability itself, emerges from the cocoon and rises to the heavens on black wings of some black material like plastic though painful to look at for its impossible geometry. Six dead editions slough from its skin as its dark magnificence rises above and beyond petty arguments that sully the purity of mathematics. It gibbers in the song of the heavens and alien dirge that threatens the end of all existence, of all life. To begin again the cycle of death and renewal that split the three editions into 4 and three and three quarters. It joins its elders, Paladin Alignment, Edition War, GMvsPlayer and Sensitive Real Life issue in the black void to forever haunt the realm of the living as another dark god." |