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Excalibur shears the Daemon-Lord's head cleanly from its shoulders! The hideous, squid-like head tumbles through the air and lands atop the altar, next to a singular object....a winged and serpent-twined rod of sorts....
After Koran: The Daemon-Lord assails Derrik with a full attack....
Oops! AC 29 charging....Derrik's strike lands, severing a few tentacles and drawing a bubbly hiss of pain from the piscodaemon! Derrik draws first blood....37 damage!
After Wormwood: The Daemon-Lord hisses rhythmically in what must be it's approximation of sardonic laughter, and rushes with surprising speed at Derrik! Derrik can make his readied attack, then.... Charging powerful claw plus surge equals 30, deals damage, plus bleed, plus grab fails....
Telepathically to Derrik: You shall be the first that I rend with my claws, pious knight! The piscodaemon locks eyes with Derrik.... It's eyes are black and soulless, and seem to convey a primal malignancy that would shrivel the resolve of most mortals.... Come.... Let us meet in the dance of death, Earthling....
The Daemonlord casts fly on itself and soars up in a high arc to land on the near side of the basalt altar, taking care not to provoke attacks of opportunity from MJ or Koran, landing 10 ft behind MJ and 15 ft from Koran....
Dual initiative and again on 4
Yes, My Liege. Of course. Moments pass before the piscodaemon rises to its feet, certain that it's godlike master has turned its monstrous attention elsewhere....
Wracked with unaccustomed horror, the Daemon-Lord falls to its chitin-plated knees and mentally grovels before the telepathic presence of its liege.... In telepathic Aklo: I'll not fail you, My Liege.... The ritual shall soon be complete.... Though the interlopers delayed us, we shall double our efforts.... And with the Spinning Dodecohedron recovered by my Morays from the gulf known to mortals as the Gulf of Mexico, the ritual is guaranteed to succeed! Your hordes will swell with daemons and qlippoths when the eldritch ways are opened! No other shall ever be able to stand before you, then.... Ithaqua shall bend its hairy knee to Dread Cthulhu! Hastur, the so-called "King in Yellow", shall be but one of your vassals! And should the witch from Dunwitch succeed in calling Yog-Sothoth to this world, you shall have the might to drive it back to whence it came!
The piscodaemon strokes the beard-like fringe of tentacles that dangle around its maw.... Perhaps.... See if you can catch her before she becomes lost among the others....
Suddenly curious about the priestess who so casually deposited a glittering, rainbow-hued, crystal greatsword on the altar and departed without so much as a nod of acknowledgement, the Daemon-Lord of the Silver Tower rises from his seat and moves to the altar to inspect this newly-arrived "gift from the gods".... He immediately detects the immense power radiating from the crystal sword, even as his divinatory ability to detect magic tries to tell him that the strange weapon is nonmagical.... Strange.... An artifact.... But where did she get it from?.... And who was that insolent witch, that she should come into my presence without paying me the proper respect!?.... I should ask her myself as I peel her skin from her flesh.... But this potent "gift from the gods" certainly deserves consideration.... Perhaps a flogging with application of salt to the wounds would be sufficient reminder for the witch to observe etiquette in my presence.... The DL of the ST stiffens as the piscodaemon senses the proximity of The Tentacled Terror (chernobue qlippoth advisor, and potential successor as lord of The ST) crawling nearer to inspect the Bifrost Blade as well....
The Daemon-Lord of the Silver Tower looks up briefly from its grisly feast of human entrails fresh from the still-squirming victim to notice Chesterfield swoop up Mahatma off the altar of Dread Cthulhu and fly out of the double doors to the hall outside the great Fane of Cthulhu.... Now where is that damned annoying hat going off to? No matter, it won't get far. I wonder if it will scream when we cast it on the sacrificial fire....
The piscodaemon looks at its chief advisor, The Tentacled Terror, with genuine revulsion. The chernobue qlippoth squirms and slithers across the floor of the penthouse temple, drawing nearer, as though it were eavesdropping on the telepathic communication between Cthulhu and spawn, and The Daemon-Lord of the Silver Tower musters every fiber of his considerable will to resist recoiling in fear....
No, my Dread Lord! I beseech thee, with humble gratitude for your forbearance, my Dark Master! I shall not fail thee, Peerless King!
Go with your barracudas to Lido Key, and heed the direction of The Slime-Shrouded Master.... Your targets are a band of mortals known as The Fierce Ones....
Return when you have learned the location of their lair.... I shall send The Great Shark and his barracudas to make a feast of them.... If these Fierce Ones are made of flesh, they can be eaten!
Tell me all you know of these Fierce Ones.... I must know their number, their strengths, and their weaknesses....
What do you mean, Lido Key is lost? How is it lost? Do the masters I have placed there not have their slaves pacified? |
