((I will do a quick intro for each application that is accepted, these do not count as updates.))
I was once and am still known as Kikai'Ventuk, The Writhing Corpse Amalgam. My Sphere was and is Undeath. It was Literally The Manifestation of Life that sealed me away. The reasons are pretty obvious if you think about them.
I am back now. The universe will wither and die once more, I simply require additional corpses for mass. My cultists will die for me. Returning as undead weights to plague the living. You only die once. However you can live twice. For a price.
(10)
Your undulating bulk silently glides past the Lurker at the Threshold. There is a brief moment of panic as he stirs slightly in his sleep, but you're past before he notices you. The walls may have grown thin, but it is still a struggle to push your mass through. You feel the power of the celestial alignment reaching through from the other side, forcibly pulling you into the mortal world then nothing for a few moments, before existence exploded in being.
You find yourself in a small village, its inhabitants slightly malnourished. The Goddess of Life had stopped granting the prayers of her priests to bless the fields, and reduced to their former output they struggled to support the population that had grown on the back of the increased harvests her worship had brought. Rationing was in effect and many grumbled about the Goddess who abandoned her loyal followers.
It seemed you had arrived at an opportune time to begin...
conversion.
You have a single worshipper, an ancient lich who still remembers the benefactor that granted him immortality. Sadly he is not particularly skilled, and seems to have been sealed away by a small but dedicated order of the vile Life Church from what you can sense, weakened as you are.
You are a
ravenous Poltergeist (10% satiation, Rank 1, 1 Worshipper). Roughly at the level of a minor Guardian Angel, you can only effect a single person or smallish object with your power. Appearing in the dreams of a mortal or whispering on the wind. Shoving rocks, lighting candles, drawing holy words in the dirt and other such poltergeist like activity are all possible.
However, in the sphere of undeath you are somewhat less limited. You could raise a small graveyard worth of corpses up as shambling undead, teach a single worshipper the secrets of necromancy or raise a more powerful undead such as a wight, that could convert the living into its mindless spawn.
Yes, you were once known as Asarias, God of War! It was that bastard of creation, Mezujin the Umbral Luminescence, who did this to you, all because you kept defeating his oh so carefully prepared spells with the barest modicum of tactics and firepower.
But now you were back! And this time you would do it right! You would destroy that accursed Mezujin once and for all, if only you could recover your sword, the End of Apocalypse, and once more have your flock create the mightiest army known to creation and destroy all those who oppose you.
(15)
You stomp past the Lurker, almost hoping it wakes up so you can do battle with it. The only reason you refrain from purposefully awakening it is your current weakened state, all the fault of that accursed Mezujin, sore loser that he is. Confronted with the barrier blocking off the world from this plane of Aether, you almost instinctively reach for your sword, before once more swearing vengance upon Mezujin as you are reminded that is it missing from your side.
Rage burning brightly in your heart, you claw through the obstruction, the stars strengthening your strikes. For a brief glorious moment you are lord of heaven, the planet stretching down below you, and then you are falling. With but a thought you guide your descent. To where you feel a small candle of devotion from those who still remember the old ways,
your ways.
A small dojo comes into view, where a family of priests teaches the fighting styles passed down from yourself so long ago. They carry out the rituals as tradition demands, but you can only feel the spark of true belief from a meagre three of them. The first, the seeming patriarch of the family, is busy training new disciples in the way of sword. Another, a younger man, perhaps his grandson, is studiously trying to piece together a burnt manuscript. And the third is a young girl of no older than six, fervently praying to a half-broken statue of you, a single incense stick burning as she begs you to allow her to fight as the men do, instead of being relegated to woman's work.
On a sidenote, you cannot help but be worried by the complete absence of your nemesis your senses are detecting from the world around you. Perhaps he is waiting in ambush?
You are a
Hungry Poltergeist (20% satiation, Rank 1, 3 Worshipers). Roughly at the level of a minor Guardian Angel, you can only effect a single person or smallish object with your power. Appearing in the dreams of a mortal or whispering on the wind. Shoving rocks, lighting candles, drawing holy words in the dirt and other such poltergeist like activity are all possible.
However, in the sphere of war you are somewhat less limited. You could rapidly increase the skill of a single person in the battle arts, turn the tides of a minor battle through the tweaking of fortune or conjure up a few dozen temporary implements of war.
((I would like to note that due to the uniqueness of your secondary power source you'll going to have to devour or parasitize other gods to increase your satiation if you don't get the sword. If you do get the sword however, it'll give you a big boost to your satiation, and allow you to stay manifested for pretty long periods. Getting the sword won't be easy though))
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Topic: Roll to form a Cult: Round 4 (Read 14500 times)