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For long centuries have I peered down upon the squabbling mortals of surrounding lands, witnessing the follies and foibles of the living. I can stand it no longer!
Foolish mortal worms, cast your troubled queries unto the chill winds which blow ceaselessly past Gallowspire and the fell power of my necromancy shall draw them forth for my amusement. Those I deem worthy of an answer may be granted the boon of my ancient wisdom. Those who prove unworthy shall have the living essence drawn from their bones, then used to nourish my Abyss-spawned Mwangi violets.
Delay will not be tolerated! My violets' blooms wither!
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So how come you didn't name your tower Fred? That seems like a good name for a tower.
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So how come you didn't name your tower Fred? That seems like a good name for a tower.
A worthy question. I chose Gallowspire because of dire eldritch significance forever attached to the name Freh'd.
Few living mortals have seen the accursed B'drochh Tablets, which describe rituals for summoning a being of primordial nightmare, a demigod of such horrific power even the undead tremble at the thought of conjuring it. The tablets describe this being's awesome power, its effortless ability to call forth towering primaeval beasts and bend them to its perverse will.
Even worse, dreaded Freh'd appears in the company of a capering minion, the freakish monstrosity Bahr'nee. Together, these ancient horrors form a destructive force equalled only by the spawn of Rovagug.
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Which is really better, cake or pie? And which one is cheesecake?
In the Gallowpire Grimoire, even the most foolish can easily decipher the half-forgotten glyphs proving that pie is superior in both taste and eldritch potential. Cheesecake has a crust, thus making it a pie. Crustless cheesecake is unworthy of contemplation.
My violets shall drink deep of your life-essence, growing vibrant and robust.
Ever dance with the devil in the pale moon light? And if so who led?
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Ever dance with the devil in the pale moon light? And if so who led?
Unfortunately, the Whispering Way strictly prohibits dancing, both under lunar illumination and otherwise. Dancing generally requires music, a frivolous distraction when adherents of the Path of Undeath should instead be contemplating ways to wring every last drop of delicious life energy from the screaming souls of one's victims.
If I were to deign to dance with a devil, daemon, fiendish djinn, or other extraplanar horror, I would lead, of course. Few of them have my inimitable sense of style and rhythm.
"You can't unmake an omelette without repairing a few eggs."
"The undead CAN say no. But usually they say BRAIIIIIIIIIINS"
What is a "Dead Man's Party?" (Other than an Oingo Boingo song)
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*dons his Hellknight Helmet*
Greetings to you, oh Whispering Tyrant. Two questions shall I pose to your malevolent wisdom.
First, a terrible threat walks the land, naming itself AM BARBARIAN. It believes itself stronger than any magic, stronger than Aroden, stronger than you even. How would you go about ending this threat and reclaiming your greatness?
Second, do you recall the names and dwellings of your followers, cultists and other associates within Cheliax?
*removes his helmet*
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Aspiring Agent of the Grave here.
Worship to which gods or goddesses would look best on an application for employment in the Way? Besides Urgathoa of course.
Many mortals carelessly neglect to plan for their undeath, leaving the time after their extinguishment up to chance and the whims of passing wraiths. Of course, nothing could be more foolish. To fully enjoy your recrudescence into the world of the undead, you should first build a solid spiritual foundation.
Of course, the worship of Urgothoa will always be popular, both for the social connections it allows and their affordable un-health insurance. This doesn’t mean that you should neglect the many other sinister beings of darkness that offer comparable benefits.
Groetus is a fine example. Although his cult has suffered recent declines in some areas, my divinations assure me that before the end times come, they’ll be going strong again. His cult’s striking “skull scythe” schtick shows a strong sense of design, even if it’s not particularly original.
The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse have been unfairly neglected lately. After their several-year stint as villains in apocalyptic fiction, they are overdue for resurgence. A thoughtful cultist could get in on the ground floor of a stylish new sect.
Some enjoy the whimsy of worshipping less sinister gods such as Sarenrae or Iomedae, banking on the ironic effect of a “holy warrior” (or mage) turning to darkness. While such melodramatic effects are not lost on me, I recommend they be reserved for cheap Taldan operas or Ulfen epic poetry. A moment’s reflection should reveal that the ancillary expenses of such a move (such as replacing drapes due to color clashes, redesigning the temple in one’s trap-filled lair, hiring new minions, and sending apologetic notes to request old friends not to drop by anymore) outweigh any benefits.
When raising an army of undead do you start with zombies, skeletons or something a little more powerful?
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First, a terrible threat walks the land, naming itself AM BARBARIAN. It believes itself stronger than any magic, stronger than Aroden, stronger than you even. How would you go about ending this threat and reclaiming your greatness?
Although lesser creatures may tremble in fear of the avatar of destruction who calls himself “AM BARBARIAN”, he is no match for the undying intellect of the Whispering Tyrant. My mighty intelligence instantly devised countermeasures for his every randomly violent impulse and primitive stratagem.
“AM BARBARIAN”, have you missed something lately? A little, fuzzy stuffed bear, perhaps? I assure you, your totem Teddy is quite safe as long as you remain far from Gallowspire. No harm will come to him.
Of course, should you trouble my minions’ contemplations, poor Teddy will discover the true might of my magicks. I would be forsce to transform Teddy into Demilich Teddy, a floating bear head of tattered fabric, its every sinister button hungering to drain the souls of the living, its fluff-filled interior instead stuffed with the malevolent desire to snuff out all life.
The choice is yours, AM BARBARIAN…
Second, do you recall the names and dwellings of your followers, cultists and other associates within Cheliax?
Despite my youthful charisma, Sir Hellknight, The Whispering Tyrant wasn't born yesterday.
On the other hand, I cannot ignore a courteous request. Some of my followers will call upon you when it is convenient for them. Your bones shall form a stylish support for the chill flames I use to illuminate my Mwangi violets.
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What is a "Dead Man's Party?" (Other than an Oingo Boingo song)
As any fool could have told you, a dead man’s party is a band of adventurers who have chosen to enter Gallowspire.
Please eat heartily before you report to my conservatory for mulching. My violets require more fertilizer.
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When raising an army of undead do you start with zombies, skeletons or something a little more powerful?
When recruiting undead minions, many aspiring overlords make the rookie mistake of starting with skeletons or zombies. While such loyal minions have their advantages, it’s always wise to begin by recruiting whatever other undead may lurk nearby. That spares you the tedious process of convincing your mindless minions to follow your undead lieutenants.
Ghasts and wights make good sergeants for your undead horde: Not only are they formidable in battle, but their antics can be an amusing diversion on dull nights in the crypt.
Vampires are often recommended, but after discussing them on the lich overlord yahoo group, I’ve heard too many stories of them turning on their masters. It seems that some vampires will do anything for a nice piece of neck.
Lesser liches are always a good choice. Hang onto their phylactery, since as long as they know that you hold the key to their continued survival, they will serve you faithfully.
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Despite my youthful charisma, Sir Hellknight, The Whispering Tyrant wasn't born yesterday.
On the other hand, I cannot ignore a courteous request. Some of my followers will call upon you when it is convenient for them. Your bones shall form a stylish support for the chill flames I use to illuminate my Mwangi violets.
Very civilized, Dread One. I anticipate the meeting. If they find me disagreeable, I will be certain to return their corpses to your kingdom so your garden will not be wanting.
That does raise a separate concern of mine, however: when did you take up an interest in gardening? The concern of one such as you for the condition of topsoil is obvious, but the interest in flowers seems peculiar.
What is a "Dead Man's Party?" (Other than an Oingo Boingo song)
Merely mentioning will get you incarcerated in most Inner Sea cities and settlement.
Did you never aspire to godhood for yourself?
Or perhaps you strove for the more powerful approach of mingling among your flock, feeling adoring hands raise you upon the throne built of the bones of those who fell upon their swords in adulation at the mere hint that their deaths would be pleasing...
The 'gods' upon the outer spheres grant spells, sure. But the cries of betrayal when those spells fail ring forever in their divine ears. The blasphemer's venom goes unchallenged as their flock is drawn away, disillusioned by divine silence, abandonment.
Those of us who dwell among our flocks may strike blasphemy where it stands, its venom wasted. We heal with a touch. We sooth with silver tongues. We send our acolytes into frenzies of pride and ecstasy with the smallest of purrs.
Tell me, how loyal is your flock?
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Very civilized, Dread One. I anticipate the meeting. If they find me disagreeable, I will be certain to return their corpses to your kingdom so your garden will not be wanting.
If only all Hellknights were as considerate. Despite their vaunted "Lawful" nature, many are prone to littering and similar offenses against common decency.
That does raise a separate concern of mine, however: when did you take up an interest in gardening? The concern of one such as you for the condition of topsoil is obvious, but the interest in flowers seems peculiar.
This new hobby has its roots in a terrible tragedy, the unfortunate incident when Arazni was abducted by that polyester doubleknit-wearing sneak, the ghost Geb. After helping Arazni to find her inner "free spirit", I had invested long years of preparation to win her affections. As she lay there, entombed in Lastwall, I repeatedly sent her invitations to visit Gallowspire. She kept refusing, insisting that she had to "moulder her hair" or claiming her robes weren't properly decrepit yet. In retrospect, I should have sensed that she was playing hard-to-get. She soon departed with Geb, believing his hollow promises of a career in Chelaxian opera.
In the aftermath of this debacle, I summoned several so-called experts on "picking up" women, trying to prevent such embarrassments in the future. I was wise to do so: The tormented screams of their tortured spirits provided hours of diversion and provided my listless servants with a salutary example of the risks associated with giving bad advice.
In the brief moments between these alleged experts' horrified screams, one tenatively suggested that I should develop some sort of hobby that would impress women. Having read that women enjoy flowers, I sent for the most lethal blossoms imaginable.
I also had to admit that Gallowspire's decor was a bit gloomy. Acting on the desperately-offered advice of the last "expert", I had new wallpaper sent in from the realm of a little-known (but extremely flamboyant) demon lord. The change to my "little bachelor pad" has been quite dramatic: The last party of foolish adventurers to enter my halls screamed most amusingly as their eyes melted and my Abyssal potted fern digested their limbs.
This clearly proves that just because one is undead is no reason to become set in your ways. A few houseplants can really change a room.
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This is some fine quality thread necromancy!
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Where has this been?
How has this thread remained hidden all these years!?
Absolutely Awesome!! :D
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NURRRRRRMMMM!!!