The priest gathers his congregation around him. Fires burn bright before each of the altars, and silver scrolls hang from the doors. Six men stand watching it in any case, trusting in steel should silver fail. His voice is steady, calming, even as horrid shrieks fill the night. You watch from just outside, standing between two houses, watching the temple. The sheer force of your malevolence is enough to unsettle the man it rests on, although the distance and the holy aura of the temple – which is now stronger than it has ever been – is enough to weaken your fury so that he can continue preaching without more than a vague sense of something wrong.
“And the Lord of Blades stood before the mountain, and at last…” He cuts off suddenly, and finds his mind under attack. He remembers old temple training, and pictures a wall between his thoughts, cutting you off from his thoughts. It’s surprisingly strong, almost as good as some you have seen from archmages.
So you simply go around it, using your greater experience to evade his defenses. And then you simply begin to break things, shattering memories, severing the parts that think from the parts that do, leaving a few tiny, helpless fragments of sanity to keep his hearts breathing and provide a nice background chorus of screaming when you are in control. The priest’s eyes begin to widen in horror, and that is his final conscious act.
The congregants look on, slightly concerned, although it has been less than a second. Through the priest’s mouth you speak. “This telling has reminded me of another tale, one with hidden wisdom in it. A tale of a great hero who needed a weapon to harm foul creatures of evil like the ones that have attacked us. He prayed for twelve days and twelve nights before a sacred, blessed altar, and had a vision. He tore the altar apart, and made its stone into the head of his hammer.”
You make the body smoothly turn, heading to the closest one, and you gesture to the blacksmith.” Let us do the same. Let us make weapons and amulets from the sacred stones.” The people, eager for some way to fight back, shout their acclaim, and swarm over the four altars, cracking fragments of stone off them. The holy aura diminishes around the temple, and something like a smile crosses your face.
Your control of the priest continues for the next week. It is occasionally painful, especially when you outright pray, but such small stings are worth it for the prize, as a faint aura of corruption begins to suffuse the whole village and the power of the temple weakens.
Blood is spilled in “holy” symbols, and people even paint themselves with it, although for now they only use animal blood. Some is even spilled into the well, to “sanctify” it. You and the Boneys continue to make attacks, but you make them seek weak, and easily driven off, although many villagers are wounded, some quite severely.
And so the priest spends long hours consulting his “holy books” until he has found what he claims to be a solution. A minor god of sacrifice and protection…by the name of Klx-Dryklfx. There is a powerful invocation that will make these creatures no longer a threat, he claims. But it requires innocent blood…
Though there is much wailing and sobbing, desperation, your poison, the terror of the past weeks, and the evident success of the previous charms make many of the villagers willing to follow him. A young woman who has refused to partake is chosen, and bound struggling to a huge pyre. Her limbs are broken with chunks of the altars, so that they are twisted and mangled. Andrick, able to walk without pain for the first time in days, eagerly joins in, whispering terrible threats into her ears.
The pyre is lit, and as she screams, your name is chanted. “Klx-Dryklfx! Klx-Dryklfx!
Klx-Dryklfx!”They howl, and you fly forth. Your Boneys add their creaking voices as you land in the town, taking the power from your followers and granting them dark pleasure. Their voices reach fever pitch as the girl burns, dying horribly in your name, and granting you another burst of power. While it is no greater than what you had gained from eating, it is far, far sweeter. You throw your head back and howl as well, drowning out the frenzied chants of your new cultists.
What will you do with your new followers? And what will you do next?
You have gained a new trait! While all demons are skilled at corrupting mortals, you have a knack for doing it with nothing but the sounds of your voice and clever manipulations. This skill translates to many of those who follow you as well.
Name: Klx-Dryklfx
Time: 1 month
Physical Might: 24 (+3 worship, +1 sacrifice)
Mental Might: 24 (+3 worship, +1 sacrifice)
Followers: 13 Boneys, 81 Townsfolk
Slaves: 1 priest
Cults
The Broken
Members: 13 Boneys
Resources: 1
Power: 3 (2 spent worshipping you)
Author
Topic: The Rise of a Demon (Number of ritual wedding duels: 1) (Read 52293 times)