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monstersdownthepath · 3 days

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Deity: The Sea of Teeth

(Pic source: Craig Spearing, though it doesn’t seem to be on his site anymore and exists only as reuploads)

Chaotic Evil God of Endless Hunger

Domains: Chaos, Death, Destruction, Evil, War Subdomains: Demon, Entropy, Catastrophe, Cannibalism, Blood Favored Weapons: Bite Symbol: Fangs surrounding bones, stars, and/or planets. Sacred Animals: All gluttonous animals. Sacred Colors: N/a

The Abyss is deeper than any being could possibly comprehend, stretching an unknowable distance into the chaos beyond what sane beings consider the relative safety of their reality. Whether it has an end or a bottom is a mystery none have yet solved, as the deeper one goes, the more they must grapple with the knowledge that the hundreds of layers occupied by the foulest sorts of demons are merely the surface level of the Abyss, the safest environs a mortal of this cosmos can exist in. To venture into the Abyss is taxing enough, but to delve deep into the Outer Rifts, where the primordial qlippoth and beasts even stranger roam, is something few can withstand for longer than fleeting moments. It is easy, though not entirely accurate, to compare the demon-occupied Abyss as something akin to the levels of the ocean where the sun still reaches. It is dangerous, laden with hazards and predators which may end the life of an explorer… But the Rifts? If one were still comparing the Abyss to the ocean, the Outer Rifts are depths where sunlight cannot reach, where the pressure is so intense that even steel buckles and crumbles, where the cold is so penetrating that nothing can defend against it, and where life as we know it simply cannot survive.

But like the ocean’s darkest depths, there is still life to be found, alien and strange. Predating even the eldest of the gods, the qlippoth crawl and slither and skitter in endless varieties and maddening shapes. From tiny insects to the great, demigod-level Qlippoth Primordials, qlippoth span across every branch of existence, forming grotesque and twisted mirrors to the biospheres found all over creation, all living and eating and dying and transforming. It is a great, eldritch ecosystem, where even worlds must feed.

And with the imprisonment of Rovagug, it has lost its apex predator.

Ask any zoologist what happens to any ecosystem in which an important predatory force is removed and you will receive a similar answer; the prey gorges itself until it starves, reproduces until there is no more room, and the cycle of life comes to an abrupt and terrible halt as the links in the chain give way one by one. In extreme cases, the entire environment is destroyed by the unbalance. While it’s true that the Abyss has no shortage of predatory creatures all willing and able to consume one another, none of them work on the scale that Rovagug did, devouring and destroying entire landscapes and worlds at once to keep the growth of the Abyss itself from becoming too dangerously rampant.

But now that he is gone, the balance is upset, and the invasive species that is demonkind has done more harm than good as the natives of the Rifts experience an apocalyptic collapse. Unfortunately for the cosmos as a whole, from the deepest depths of the Outer Rifts a new apex predator has risen to fill the vacuum.

Keep reading

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monstersdownthepath · 4 days

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Ever feel like some deities' aligment don't really fit their descriptions, 'specially racial ones tied to 'monsters'? Like, Dretha want orcs to make strong children and fiercely protect what they have, and resents the male gods for being dicks. Nothing really evil, especially compared to other 'evil fertility goddesses' like Lamashtu and Shib-Niggurath. Feels like she's only not Chaotic Neutral because 'orcs bad'.

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Some, yes! However, the orc gods are kind of in a weird area in my consciousness due to the existence of the Hold of Belkzen, aka Orc Central. In canon Pathfinder lore, the Orcs of Belkzen (where the orcish pantheon reigns) are all warmongers hellbent on proving their tribe is the strongest, their leaders are the most powerful, their gods are the only ones worthy of worship! There is no room for softness, for care, for anything resembling true love in a society that prizes individual strength so immensely. Even Dretha, arguably the most gentle of the orc pantheon (in the same way being tazed is more gentle than being struck by lightning), is not immune to this; her nurturing care of young orcs comes at the cost of every other culture, society, and species the orcs come across, many of which she demands as sacrifices in exchange for healthy children... and note that she prizes strong and healthy orcs above anything else, with grim implications regarding orcs born in any other condition.

In a vacuum, "fight fiercely to defend what they have" is a statement that wouldn't be out of place in any Good god's portfolio, and even outside of a vacuum, this was a perfectly Neutral stance back in the olden days when the orcs were being forced from their home by the dwarves... but this is no more. The Hordes of Belkzen have grown, and they now conquer and take not only from each other, but from all their neighbors. "Fight fiercely to defend what they have" looks much less Neutral when they lay claim to everyone else's stuff in accordance with their perceived right as the strongest beings in the world, and see the simple existence of everything outside their tribe--even other orc tribes--as a threat to their belongings, their families, and their way of life.

... all this to say that, yes, she IS Chaotic Evil because the Belkzen Orcs are, by and large, Chaotic Evil. They brought their gods with them from the underground and the majority of them haven't changed for the better because of it; many of them are, in fact, worse now that there's a target for their wrath beyond one another. Even the orcs fighting to reform Belkzen into a proper nation instead of a shattered collection are some flavor of Evil. It takes a long, long time to undo thousands of generations of teachings, after all.

ALL OF THAT being said: if you have an orc character and want to treat her as CN, it's incredibly easy to do.

#im not entirely sure how 2e has begun treating orcs because i do not have access to Sky King's Tomb #so im not sure if the general vibe is 'orcs bad' or if it's 'belkzen orcs specifically are bad'#asks #alexcoene #this got away from me

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monstersdownthepath · 4 days

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Articles will return next week! Thank you all for being patient! I feel rested.

#delete later

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monstersdownthepath · 5 days

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A pair of new deities

Well, sort of new. One of them is entirely original, but the first one is actually based on a comedic aside found in Agents of Edgewatch: Assault on Hunting Lodge Seven, where he's listed among a few of the notable names to try and miserably fail to take on the Test of the Starstone. In both cases, however, these deities are involved with the Starstone, a bit of lore I've not really touched before due to my preference for cosmic horror.

In reality, both of these could be full articles on their own, but I feel like they're not 'big' enough to get two individual pages. Maybe one day I'll change my mind. For now, though, here's a look at Veelich, the God of Failure, and Wittiby, the God of Familiars.

VEELICH, THE UNWANTED Chaotic Neutral God of Failure, Outcasts, and Falling Forever In Bottomless Pits

Domains: Chaos, Darkness, Luck, Protection, Void Subdomains: Caves*, Shadow, Curse, Imagination, Solitude, Isolation* Favored Weapon: Club Symbol: A hole or trench with a goblin hand reaching out of it. Sacred Animal: None Sacred Color: Green and yellow *Followers of Veelich can modify either the Darkness or Void Domains with the Caves Subdomain, and the Darkness Domain with the Isolation Subdomain.

Veelich the Unwanted was once known as the unluckiest goblin in all of Absalom, if not the Inner Sea, or perhaps even the world. Not a day went by that he didn't stub his toe, slam his fingers against something, spill his drinks and food, bump into the wrong person, or open his mouth and accidentally insult the very wrong person. To many, it felt as though he couldn't have possibly been doing it on accident; no one alive could be so cursed! Certainly, he was doing this for attention! But Veelich repeatedly insisted, sometimes tearfully, sometimes full of fury, that he wasn't doing anything on purpose, and near as anyone could tell, he was being genuine. Things just happened to him, constantly, and perhaps his only solace (or perhaps his true curse) is that he hadn't been killed for it yet.

That all changed when he tried to take the Test of the Starstone, so people thought. Like every aspirant, Veelich had to first make it inside the cathedral, and to do that, he had to first bypass the bottomless pit which surrounded it. Like so very, very many aspirants before him, the first challenge proved to be insurmountable, and to his credit, he did go all out on his attempt. He had purchased a powerful potion of Jump to heroically leap into the air, a sturdy parachute to glide the rest of the way, and a sturdy security line attached to a powerful, magic stake in the ground in case his luck went sour (as it always did), and even a Ring of Sustenance to both avoid the risk of food poisoning AND assure that his goblin appetite didn't force him to do anything stupid once he finally got into the cathedral.

What he did not know was that his Jump potion was on a discount due to being largely expired, its effects not nearly as dramatic as they should have been, his parachute wasn't secured properly, and a citizen passing by as he set up had accidentally dripped some savory sauce on his safety line, attracting the attention of a voracious rat. Even if none of those incidents had occurred, the sheer number of good luck charms he had brought with him in the hopes of stabilizing his cursed luck would have weighed him down anyway, but fate did not have to work especially hard to send him screaming into the darkness, Ring of Sustenance assuring he wouldn't even die quickly, never to be seen or heard again... For about five or so years.

It was, perhaps, more surprising for Veelich than it was for the first of his unintentional Clerics, Oracles, Antipaladins, and the like to find out that he had achieved a measure of divine apotheosis as he fell endlessly in that pit; he had gotten so used to talking to figments of his imagination as he fell that it took his devoted several months to convince him that they were real, and that he had actually succeeded in his goal of becoming a god... But not in the way he had wanted. In a cruel cosmic jest, the cruelest yet, his attempts at becoming the God of Overcoming Adversity had cemented him as the God of Failure, a figure of mockery and a target of endless jokes, all of which he gets to hear every time someone mentioned him by name. He doesn't even get a proper divine realm, instead having been transported, at some point, to a dark pocket of the Maelstrom that perfectly imitates the pit he spent his final few years as a mortal falling through. His divine portfolio doesn't lend itself to any particularly major miraculous acts; he's mostly a sponge and scapegoat for misfortune and curses, which he then passes onto his followers so that they may then pass them onto their foes (provided they don't perish miserably from the influx of cursed power).

It's not all bad, though. In a way, his bad luck never actually killed him, and though his power isn't especially impressive when compared to that of a proper Ascended, it DOES give him hope that one day, he will be able to find out who or what worked to make him so miserable in his mortal life.

As a proper god, Veelich can grant Boons to any creature taking the Deific Obedience feat, but he does not possess a dedicated Prestige Class such as Feysworn or Diabolist. Boons are typically gained slowly, achieved at levels 12, 16, and 20, but by entering the Evangelist, Exalted, or Sentinel Prestige Classes as early as possible, they can be obtained at levels 8, 11, and 14 instead. While normally a full god would grant three sets of Boons, Veelich isn't powerful or especially creative enough to come up with more than one. Perhaps, in time, he will.

Obedience: Either find or create a hole deep enough to hide your entire head inside, then do so. Spend at least half an hour making casual (though one-sided) conversation about what's been going on in your life so Veelich gets some respite from the deluge of frantic prayers, then you may devote the remaining time to redirecting any misfortune or accidents you have suffered or believe you will suffer to him. Benefit: Gain a +4 sacred or profane bonus to saving throws against curses, and to Climb and Athletics checks.

Boon 1: Cruel Irony (Sp): Gain Jump 3/day, Create Pit 2/day, or Curse of Befouled Luck 1/day.

Boon 2: Curse Sponge (Sp): Common faithful believe Veelich will soak up all their bad luck and misfortune, but you know that prayer isn't enough. Sometimes you have to roll up your sleeves and do it yourself. Up to three times per day, you may cast Accept Affliction as a spell-like ability, except you may use it on any creature within 20ft rather than as a touch spell. If you've absorbed at least three separate afflictions from another being with this ability (whether it be all in a single casting, or one affliction per casting) within the same 24 hour period, Veelich redirects a portion of your suffering; once within the next 24 hours, you can cast Bestow Curse as a spell-like ability.

Boon 3: Screaming Into the Darkness (Sp): Once per day, you may give a foe a taste of what the God of Failure had to deal with. This acts as using the Maze spell as a spell-like ability, except instead of sending a victim into an extradimensional labyrinth, it sends them falling into a bottomless pit inside of which flight--magical or mundane--is impossible. As such, the victim does not make Intelligence checks to escape, but must instead succeed Climb checks (DC 15 + 1/2 your Hit Dice + your Charisma modifier): the first to catch themselves and stop from falling, then 2 additional successful Climb checks for each round they failed to stop themselves from falling (thus a creature that fell for 3 rounds would need to make 6 successful Climb checks to fully emerge from the pit). A creature that fails to escape the pit reappears at the location they disappeared from falling at terminal velocity, taking 20d6 bludgeoning damage the moment they hit a solid surface.

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WITTIBY, THE SAGE OF SMALL MAGIC True Neutral God of Familiars, Cantrips, and Arcane Study

Domains: Animal, Community, Knowledge, Magic, Strength Subdomains: Animal*, Cooperation, Education, Arcane, Resolve Favored Weapon: Quarterstaff Symbol: An animal-patterned spellbook with a pearl clasp Sacred Animal: Any familiar Sacred Color: Lime green *Followers of Wittiby may select any of the Subdomains under the Animal Domain.

Disparagingly called the Undeserving God by many, the tale of Wittiby is a strange one, a story tinged with hubris, tragedy, and lost friends. They were once the proud assistance of an archmage, a familiar created from a beloved pet and instilled with a grasp of the mystic and the arcane. Who their archmage was, and what shape they had before their ascension, are both memories that were lost to them during the trauma experienced within the Starstone Cathedral.

No one is ever prepared for the Test of the Starstone, no matter how great their power. The archmage was no different, confidently striding across the bottomless pit with a powerful Wind Walk spell and deftly avoiding the pockets of dead magic sent up to stop them before throwing open the cathedral's doors as though they were the doors of the mage's own tower. All the while, Wittiby was on their shoulder, cheering them on as the doors closed behind them, sealing their fates.

What, exactly, happened within the cathedral is something they will not say, though they obviously remember it with perfect clarity. All they reveal is that their beloved archmage, whose name was taken from them, survived every trial the Starstone Cathedral placed in their path... every trial but the last one, in the Starstone's own chamber, which took their life. Though, by all accounts, the archmage appears to have been a haughty, self-aggrandizing blowhard, their final act was one of pure kindness, sealing their beloved familiar--pet, associate, friend--in a bubble of force to protect them from the terrible backlash of arcane severance to try and teleport them out of the Cathedral, wishing only for Wittiby to escape the cathedral and the rest of their life free, but fate had other plans in store.

Someone touched the Starstone that day, after all. It just wasn't the one who opened the door.

When asked what possessed them to do such a thing, Wittiby claims that they planned to use their divine powers to turn their archmage into their Herald, restoring them to life. It was not to be, though, and for such a selfless wish, the familiar's cataclysmic ascension event tore all records of who the archmage was from reality so thoroughly that no one who was there the very day they strolled into town could even recall the mage's face or name. Going even further, Wittiby's form became protean and chaotic, shifting between dozens of animals in the span of minutes, to rob them of the shape their master gave them. All they have left is their master's spellbook, bereft of details of their life but cover-to-cover full of immense arcane knowledge.

Whether this apparent cosmic cruelty is some form of punishment from the Starstone itself for trying to bypass its rules, a price paid by all Ascended that they simply do not speak of or cannot remember (Wittiby's arcane bond to their master may be the sole reason they recall anything about them), the fate of any being to make it to the center of the cathedral but who failed the final test or, as many sneer, the price paid for Wittiby all but literally riding their way to the Starstone without doing any real work, is the subject of conjecture... even by Wittiby theirself, who isn't yet sure if they even deserve their position.

Still getting used to their place as a new god, Wittiby's dour mood has yet to fully lift, but they find joy where they can in their new duties as God of Small Magics. Every time an aspirant caster learns a new cantrip, casts their first spell, and forges (or deepens) a bond with their familiar, the world gets a little bit brighter for the Shapeless Sage. Their time as a god is a mere handful of years, their faithful a scant handful in number, knowledge of their very existence all but unheard of beyond Absalom, so time will yet tell what sort of god they will grow to be as the passing years heal their wounds and scars over their memories. For the moment they are content performing small blessings to protect mages and their bonded allies from danger when they can, and putting hopeful casters on the path to discovering and mastering their first spells.

As a proper god, Wittiby can grant Boons to any creature taking the Deific Obedience feat, but they do not possess a dedicated Prestige Class such as Feysworn or Diabolist. Boons are typically gained slowly, achieved at levels 12, 16, and 20, but by entering the Evangelist, Exalted, or Sentinel Prestige Classes as early as possible, they can be obtained at levels 8, 11, and 14 instead. While normally a full god would grant three sets of Boons, Wittiby is too new to divinity to offer more than one.

Obedience: Practice magic with your familiar or animal companion for at least one hour. If you are not a caster or do not have a familiar/animal companion, spend at least one hour either researching magical theory or caring for an animal which trusts you. Benefit: Whenever you, your familiar, or your animal companion performs the Aid Another action, your target gains an additional +2 sacred or profane bonus to their check.

Boon 1: The Essentials (Sp): Gain Magic Missile 3/day, Levitate 2/day, or Tiny Hut 1/day

Boon 2: Hedge Wizardry (Su/Sp): The blessing of the God of Small Magic gives you mastery over the smallest magic there is: cantrips. Each time you complete your Obedience, select three cantrips from an Arcane caster class (Magus, Sorcerer, Summoner, Witch, or Wizard). You may cast these cantrips at will as spell-like abilities for the next 24 hours. In addition, once per round as a swift action, you may cast any level 0 spell you know (be it a cantrip, knack, orison, etc) with a casting time of 1 standard action or less, including the ones gained from this Boon.

Boon 3: Constant Companion (Sp): The pain of losing one's treasured companion can be crippling, and Wittiby seeks to alleviate that pain as quickly as they possibly can. You may cast True Resurrection once per day as a spell-like ability, but only to return a creature's bonded companion to life. This includes familiars, bonded mounts (like that of a Paladin or Cavalier), animal companions and, if need be, eidolons. This does NOT include hirelings or cohorts gained via Leadership. You may use this ability to resurrect bonded companions other than your own. Using this ability as an excuse to repeatedly send bonded companions into danger against their will is seen as an abuse of Wittiby's gift and may provoke their wrath.

#Second reblog

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monstersdownthepath · 7 days

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Rereading Dragon Ball made me wonder about how might be a fiend themed after pointless or useless self-sacrifices, given how many times they happen there. I wonder if they'd be better off as a Daemon or a Asura (who would of course be more specificaly tied to religious sacrifice).

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Daemon, though it'd be a rare, high-CR breed. Self-sacrifice isn't usually in the wheelhouse of someone who's Neutral Evil, after all, but someone peering at their old life and seeing that their sacrifice was utterly pointless would probably get a little warped on their way to judgment. They may tear themselves back into the land of the living in an undead form first to try and correct their failure before being drawn into the Boneyard, at which point they're too stained to be anything but Evil.

That being said, there's also room for an asura born from a divine mistake along the lines of "a god tries to set up a martyr, but the martyr's sacrifice achieves nothing of value, so they suffered and died for nothing." Given how much overlap there is in existing fiends, having both a daemon of death by pointless sacrifice and an asura of worthless martyrdom isn't outside the realm of possibility. Perhaps the first of both fiend breeds arose from the same incident...?

#asks #alexcoene

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monstersdownthepath · 7 days

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Would The Lamb from cult of the Lamb,if you based an archfiend on them,be more in line with an Infernal Duke or Demon Lord?

I'm leaning towards infernal Duke. If you need a rundown on the Lamb I can explain.

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After some unnecessarily deep consideration, I'm also leaning towards Infernal Duke. Executing other, unworthy fiends and siphoning their power is just an extension of Hell's "the strong rule the weak" dogma. Even further than that, the Lamb's absolute authority over the lives of their flock, down to reading and altering their individual thoughts, settles well into the overall desires of devils. Free will is only allowed if it aligns with your goals; it's a privilege that can be revoked.

#asks #pantherlord3

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monstersdownthepath · 7 days

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A pair of new deities

VEELICH, THE UNWANTED Chaotic Neutral God of Failure, Outcasts, and Falling Forever In Bottomless Pits

Boon 1: Cruel Irony (Sp): Gain Jump 3/day, Create Pit 2/day, or Curse of Befouled Luck 1/day.

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WITTIBY, THE SAGE OF SMALL MAGIC True Neutral God of Familiars, Cantrips, and Arcane Study

Someone touched the Starstone that day, after all. It just wasn't the one who opened the door.

Boon 1: The Essentials (Sp): Gain Magic Missile 3/day, Levitate 2/day, or Tiny Hut 1/day

#original concepts #Pathfinder

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monstersdownthepath · 8 days

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The Children of Saint Caligine

(Art by @tsunadadudi!)

Most people's first exposure to the Society of St. Caligine or, more commonly, the Children of Saint Caligine is one of mild curiosity or wariness when an ominous cart stinking of spice and chemicals rolls into town, staffed by figures in dark robes with worryingly bright red trim. In almost complete silence, the cart will pick a spot in whatever marketplace or town square is available before it unfolds, turning into a storefront. One of the strange cultists will then step forward and offer a challenge to the onlookers: Can you survive the trials of St. Caligine? Before unveiling just what those 'trials' entail: a wide variety of spices and sauces for sale, each searing the eyes and tongue more than the last.

What at first appears to be a cult to some dark god quickly reveals the entire ominous presentation is little more than an elaborate marketing ploy, an act that every employee is in on. Rarely ever breaking character (unless forced to by locals who don't appreciate their act), the Children proclaim that their mixtures will aid in "elevating" one's palate, in strengthening one's resolve and tolerance, speaking of the "delights of burning agony" and "the most exquisite pains" that only they can provide.

Though their deliberate overtly-sinister mannerisms often put them at odds with societies who've had terrible experiences with cults in the past, there are the occasional towns which put up with their antics, and even find them entertaining. Many market goers, if nothing else, enjoy the large selection of spices they sell, some of which appear unique to the Children's own farms, and local farmers consider them a boon as the Children are quite eager to secure new sources of ingredients and pay well for sources of capsaicin that they do not already possess.

Often, the worst thing that happens when one of the Children's carts rolls into town is that someone suffers significant gastric distress attempting to consume one of their homebrewed hot sauces that proved to be too much for them to handle. They sell a great many sauces that are outright hazardous to consume (stating that their creation was a test of if they could, rather than if they should), requiring any who partake to sign hefty legal waivers before they're gifted the smallest sample to test themselves against. What few know, even among the Children, is that the rare moments when someone triumphs over their toxic, burning mixtures and even dares for seconds are the moments treasured by more than just the onlookers. Such individuals find themselves asked strange questions by stranger visitors, visitors who are a little more earnest when they ask if their new target wishes to expand their horizons and really test their tolerance...

For the most part, the Children of Saint Caligine are exactly as they appear to be once their cart unfolds: salesmen with a gimmick. A great many of the employees manning these carts are uninformed as to the true nature of the Children and are simply paid to run the shop and follow the orders of their superiors. Many of them may be spice aficionados, gourmands, or hot sauce enthusiasts engaging with their hobbies, and there's a generous handful among them that are chefs looking to hone their craft, but many more still are just average people with a flair for the dramatic, a willingness to wear the cloaks to put on a show, and a desire for a paycheck and/or to travel around with their carts. For every ten commoners earning their pay day to day, though, there is at least one who truly considers themselves a Child of Saint Caligine.

If you were to ask any of the mundane workers just who St. Caligine was, they would give you the same spiel all the 'surface level' employees will: That he was the founder of their company, an enthusiastic consumer of spice, a hot pepper farmer, and an entrepreneur with an eccentric flair. A true drama queen who greatly enjoyed the attention he garnered acting as some villainous sorcerer or poisoner as he passed out his products and cackled like a madman as he watched willing participants writhing in agony at his concoctions, sometimes even offering rewards to those who could "survive his trials." Ask any of them where the company is primarily based or where this Caligine is now, and you'll get an inaccurate answer every time. Absalom, Alkenstar, and Rahadoum are all common, but the real seat of Caligine's enterprise lays much, much further away.

Should you prove yourself a true heat fanatic and a person of particularly high tolerance, you may be able to speak with one of the true Children and learn the real version of the Saint's tale: That Caligine was an alchemist who focused more on altering himself than altering the world, imbibing countless caustic brews in an attempt to elevate his understanding of chemistry and his own biology. This penchant for causing catastrophes within his own body gave rise to the practice of what the Children call "gastromasochism," transforming his stomach into a crucible in which he forged new, miraculous experiences... and eventually transforming the rest of him altogether.

------ The True Saint and his Clergy ------

SAINT CALIGINE Lawful Evil Velstrac Demagogue of Chemistry, Spice, and Gastronomy

Domains: Evil, Fire, Law, Strength Subdomains: Kyton, Alchemy*, Loyalty, Resolve Favored Weapons: Whip Symbol: A flaming tongue impaled on a hook, and/or surrounded by chains. Sacred Animals: None Sacred Colors: Red and green *Followers of St. Caligine may use the Alchemy Subdomain to modify the Fire Domain, replacing the Fire Bolt power and the spells at the appropriate level.

Even most 'true' Children are kept ignorant of the final fate of Caligine until they have ascended far enough into the ranks of the cult behind the company and proven their fanatic devotion to the heat and explorations of their own tolerance, though many of them learn it independently, either through research or through simple guesswork. In his quest for more intense forms of pain, Saint Caligine has shed his identity as a human and has been embraced in the Plane of Shadow, his desire to cause himself unspeakable agony having earned him a place among the velstrac. Chains, hooks, whips, and knives do not excite him nearly as much as whatever horrifying reaction occurs upon his tongue and along his throat when he imbibes his latest creation, nor can any prolonged torture session entertain him as much as the hours of agonized writhing he undergoes as the very same chemical tears its way through his body. It is through this constant experimentation, this constant push to go ever farther, to experience new heights of true internal suffering that Caligine rose past the ranks of the flensers and bone-carvers to achieve the rank of Demagogue.

Caligine resembles the man he once was only by virtue of his humanoid shape. His body is swathed by miles of oil-stained gauze that smells of terrifically strong, unidentifiable chemicals, what hairless flesh can be seen beneath the bandages bleached and burned by exposure to his caustic creations. He no longer has eyes (though this doesn't impair his ability to see), his nose a ragged hole in his head, and his limbs are grotesquely elongated and exaggerated. No part of him is more exaggerated than his tongue, a wretched appendage that nearly reaches his knees when loosed at its full length, the scarred and beaten limb strong enough to shatter the bones of any creature it constricts and leathery enough that he often uses it as a sharpening strop for his bladed instruments, giggling in demented glee as the runoff on each tool and ever-sharpening edge delights his abused tastebuds and nerves. He has long grown past consuming foods that mortals would consider edible (and uses alchemist's fire--bottle and all--as a palate cleanser), quaffing combinations of chemicals which would incinerate a lesser being or otherwise bring them a swift and horrible death through poisoning, gifting him with a resilience against poison that velstrac typically lack.

Caligine's palace in the Plane of Shadow looks halfway like an alchemy lab and kitchen, and halfway like a massive dining hall, surrounded on all sides by miles of gardens filled with alien plants and sustained by enormous false stars. He toils nonstop within his laboratory to create new formulae to bring endless pain to himself and others, the recipes served in this palace rarely survivable by mortal life but nonetheless entertaining for the visitors who come from all over to test their mettle against his creations. Or, at the very least, to watch with amusement as others try their hand at withstanding whatever godless creation is placed in front of them. There have been more than a few occasions where a haughty visitor believes that they've bested Caligine's recipes only to be informed that what they've successfully withstood are the appetizers and, refusing to be bested by a mere meal, foolishly demand a greater challenge... and find out far too late that immunity to poison or even fire will do nothing to save them from Caligine's most potent creations.

------ Obedience and Boons ------

The cult of Saint Caligine is almost entirely composed of his 'Children,' people drawn in by the doctrine of self-experimentation and the consumption of new, exotic foods, drugs, and poisons which cause terrible reactions within their bodies. It is these children which work in the fields of the farms which grow strange, exotic plants or raise bizarre animals from which choice ingredients may be extracted and honed into powerful, agonizing chemicals, and the laboratories in which these processes are undertaken. Rather than toil in secret, though, the Children--under the guidance of their transformed founder--have chosen to become overt practitioners of their art and 'bless' the public with their creations, moving under the guise of sauce salesman to build goodwill... and, of course, earn the money they require to fund their gastronomic adventures.

Those who swear allegiance to the Sweltering Saint do so for various reasons, the most common being sheer masochistic glee (which is what most of the velstrac in his flock joined for), imbibing hideous mixtures and concoctions or adventuring out into the world to expose themselves to substances that cause sanity-fraying agony and nausea as they shred the body and sometimes even the mind. Chasing new and exciting highs from both pain and whatever wondrous side-effects their encounters cause (often both at the same time) is the primary motivating force among the Saint's cultists and adventurers which swear to him, though it's by no means the only one. Other cultists include people honing their internals from exposure to hostile elements in the same way a warrior tests themselves against greater and greater foes in the hopes of achieving some new and improved state of being, while some may be seeking to achieve the same agonizing apotheosis that Caligine did, having transformed into a velstrac while still alive.

The cult is, obviously, quite small. Demagogues attract a fraction of the worshipers that full deities or figures such as the Archdevils and Demon Lords do, and Caligine's esoteric doctrine appeals fewer still into his fold. He has only been a Demagogue for a few decades at that, compared to the hundreds of even thousands of years that his elder peers have enjoyed, and as such the growth of his following is slow. He supplements his numbers with hired hands, and these mundane folk who work in the carts are kept almost entirely in the dark about the true purpose of their worldly travels, which is twofold: Find like-minded masochistic souls willing to become one of the Children, or find victims hardy enough for the Children test their most terrible brews upon. Any who reject the first often become the second.

As a Velstrac Demagogue, Caligine may gift especially fanatic worshipers with Boons that are are relatively simple: a trio of spell-like abilities, each of which may be used 1/day. Boons are normally gained slowly, at levels 12, 16, and 20, however entering the Evangelist, Exalted, or Sentinel Prestige Classes can see the Boons gained as early as levels 10, 13, and 16. Note that, as with all Demagogues, you cannot enter the Diabolist Prestige Class to quickly obtain these Boons without DM fiat.

Obedience: Consume a spicy food, a poison, or an item which deals Fire or Acid damage. Spend an hour dealing with whatever side effects may occur from this action; you may not use magic to alleviate your suffering during this time, though you may use mundane means (such as drinking water) to lessen it. Benefit: You gain a +2 profane bonus to saves against poison. In addition, you gain 2 points of both Fire and Acid Resistance; if you already have Resistance to one or both of those elements, it increases by 2.

Boon 1: Trial of Fire and Acid

Boon 2: Burning Hellmouth Lash (Acid or Fire only)

Boon 3: Transmute Blood to Acid

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monstersdownthepath · 9 days

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Deity: Nulrea, Emissary of Eternity

Lawful Evil Velstrac Demagogue of Isolation, Meditation, and Demiplanes

Domains: Evil, Law, Protection, Void Subdomains: Kyton, Fortification, Solitude, Isolation Favored Weapon: Falcata Symbol: An infinity symbol made of dozens of small circles, some of which contain a small environment or depict a creature trapped inside. Sacred Animals: Blind cave animals Sacred Colors: Gray, dark blue

Those who know of the velstrac know to fear them for the depravities that they inflict upon the bodies and minds of their victims. Those who have been rescued from their clutches are almost always irretrievably insane, broken by ceaseless tortures as the cruel fiends sought to shape their bodies into new and aesthetically pleasing configurations. Velstrac are always seeking to hone their craft on others before turning the scalpels on themselves, in much the same way a sketch artist would use scrap paper from a notebook for their practice work before utilizing a proper canvas for their real masterpiece.

The Demagogues among their kind are no different, but they work on a much grander scale. Whereas a typical velstrac works to perfect the suffering of a single individual, a Demagogue may become the architect for the torment of entire nations as part of their latest and greatest project. There are always exceptions to this rule, of course; one of which is the obscure Demagogue known as Nulrea, the so-called Emissary of Eternity. Very few know of this entity's existence, a Demagogue only by virtue of their considerable power rather than by having a large following of servants and fans. Rather than seeking the spotlight and the adoration of their peers, Nulrea prefers an existence of quiet contemplation and meditation, seeking out areas in the Great Beyond where they cannot be reached by any force and pondering deeply on the mysteries of the mind, the soul, and of existence itself.

It is said that the Emissary was born at the end of time and has been living all of eternity backwards, a lofty claim if there ever was one, but one that's nonetheless accepted by many considering the circumstances of their past: that is, Nulrea has no recorded past. As near as any scholar and diviner has been able to discern, the odd velstrac merely decided to reveal their presence to the greater velstrac population after hiding for an unknowable amount of time in an unknown location for an unknown purpose. They have revealed nothing of their past, if indeed they have one, stating plainly "I have no past, only an infinite future," a sentiment echoed by the handfuls of supplicants who have undergone the Emissary's agonizing process of enlightenment, destroying their own past selves through concentrated efforts to induce ego death, leaving room for a brand new self to be born.

Even among velstrac, the mutilations of Nulrea are unique, in that they barely look like a living creature, but seem more fossil than flesh. They appear as a humanoid made of soft stone that nevertheless bears deep and organic-looking scars, some of which bleed as though there were flesh beneath the stone. They possess no facial features, but deep scars along their head give the vague impression of a face. They also have no hands or feet, their limbs terminating in rough, rounded masses of stony scar tissue. When they do deign to move, they do so by hovering in utter silence, looking to all the world like a puppet being pulled along by unseen strings or a doll being carried by an invisible force, leading many to believe that the Demagogue's body is entirely useless as anything but an anchor point to sustain an incredibly powerful mind.

Despite the lack of any teeth or claws, Nulrea can leave hideous open wounds that are difficult to magically heal upon any creature coming too close, all without making a single movement, giving the impression of a victim being torn into by an invisible force. No one is quite certain if Nulrea manifests phantasmal limbs, summons or is guarded by an invisible attacker, or simply rends victims with psychic power, but the end result is the same, and there appears to be no measure that can be taken or defense that can be raised against the velstrac's unusual vector of attack. They prefer to avoid combat if only not to interrupt their current train of thought, striking out with their strange lashing power only until the approaching creature leaves, but if pressed into battle they can unleash even more frightening psychic abilities... or simply be done with a single creature with little more than a gesture.

Floating anywhere from ten to a hundred feet above their head is a halo consisting of thousands of tiny lights, each no larger than a fleck of dust, each providing such scant illumination that even their great number produces little more than candlelight, as not to annoy Nulrea with unneeded light. Every one of these of tiny specks represents a demiplane it has sealed an enemy, annoyance, or supplicant inside, each plane sustained by the Emissary of Eternity's power. Such victims are trapped in environs such as endless sunlit deserts, valleys of ice that go on forever, vast bottomless oceans, labyrinths of twisting tunnels, forests with no edges, cities that continue endlessly into the horizon, and other such spaces... Though victims that Nulrea dislikes may be sealed inside bubbles a scarce few meters across, such as a single room within a house, on a disk that sits atop an infinitely tall spire, or even within a coffin barely large enough for their body. Time passes differently within each demiplane, fully at the whims of Nulrea, and trapped victims may experience the passage of decades, centuries, or even millennia within their prison even as mere days pass in normal time.

With their needs and lives magically sustained and their bodies recovering swiftly from any form of harm, creatures imprisoned in these planes have little choice but to find a way out or go completely mad, and often do both. Escape isn't simple, as Nulrea sets the conditions for leaving each prison plane and gives only the vaguest possible instructions for doing so; complete madness is often required to parse these instructions, and worse is needed to carry them out. A victim condemned to walk through an endless desert may be tasked with finding a single specific grain of sand and consuming it, while someone trapped in an endless city may be required use their own blood to scribe the entirety of their life along its streets a hundred thousand times, and someone trapped in a cave may walk through the tunnels for several lifetimes before figuring out that they must dig their way through the solid stone with tools crafted from their own bones. Each task inevitably requires some level of intense, long-term suffering or sacrifice, often to the point the victim goes entirely numb to it. Rarely do imprisoned creatures emerge from the demiplanes at all, and not one has ever been the same as when they entered.

------ Obedience and Boons ------

Nulrea's clergy is obviously quite small. Very few creatures even know of the isolationist Demagogue's existence, and fewer have reason to seek them out. They offer little to most supplicants, refusing to share the secrets they know with any who are not sufficiently 'enlightened,' and the only way one may achieve a level of enlightenment the Emissary finds satisfactory is to subject ones self to unreasonably extended periods of deprivation, isolation, and silence, until all past personality and potential are destroyed, the hopeful now hollowed out and ready to serve wholly as a vessel for the secrets the Emissary wishes to impart. Typically, this means the price of the Demagogue's knowledge and power is to willingly accept being sealed within one of its demiplanes until total ego death is achieved.

Even other velstrac are wary of drawing Nulrea's attention, lest they end up trapped within a realm of numbness until the madness inherent to the velstrac is eclipsed entirely by new and novel forms of insanity. Some, however, purposely seek it out for that precise result, primarily any velstrac wishing to become the feared Obsignator; a cult of Obsignator known as the Ten-Thousand Moments in Amber--in reference to the Demagogue's halo of demiplanes--and the victims and madmen they've managed to capture/attract make up the largest cult in the Emissary of Eternity's name.

Creatures who manage to escape Nulrea's demiplanes and recover from their madness sometimes develop a deep and unsettling appreciation for the Demagogue's "work," taking a moment to silently thank it for giving them new perspectives on time, suffering, silence, and isolation before making their way back into the world. These blessed souls are regarded by the Demagogue as having taken their first steps towards true enlightenment, though it is up to them to continue their journey. While many of them become mad hermits no longer able to stomach the presence of other beings and retreat to isolated areas to further ponder the mysteries of eternity, some instead become adventurers seeking to either unravel the mysteries they have begun to ponder and the secrets they have discovered in their meditations, or simply make up for lost time and catch up with the world that they have not been a part of for several lifetimes--perhaps several hundred.

As a Velstrac Demagogue, Nulrea may gift especially fanatic worshipers with Boons that are are relatively simple: a trio of spell-like abilities, each of which may be used 1/day. Boons are normally gained slowly, at levels 12, 16, and 20, however entering the Evangelist, Exalted, or Sentinel Prestige Classes can see the Boons gained as early as levels 10, 13, and 16. Note that, as with all Demagogues, you cannot enter the Diabolist Prestige Class to quickly obtain these Boons without DM fiat.

Obedience: Find a spot where you can expose yourself to a single repetitive sensation, such as water flowing over your body, wind blowing over you, sunlight shining down on you, or constant cold. Spend at least one hour completely still, meditating on this sensation. If a creature interrupts your meditation, you must deal at least 1 point of lethal damage to it and drive it away. Benefit: Gain a +4 profane bonus to saving throws against charm and compulsion effects, as well as to saving throws to avoid effects that would inflict confusion, insanity, or madness.

Boon 1: Blindness/Deafness Boon 2: Lesser Create Demiplane Boon 3: Maze of Madness and Suffering

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monstersdownthepath · 10 days

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A collection of Nascent Demon Lords (plus an extra)

(Pic source; it’s not 1 to 1 what I have in mind, but it’s close enough! and certainly eye-catching)

I’ve done daemons and sahkil, so here we have a trio of nascent demon lords. And also, as an extra treat, an especially disgusting Qlippoth Lord! These aren’t my only concepts for nascent lords, but if I put all of them in a single post then I won’t have any to post later!

As always, there’s significantly more lore for each of these horrors than I put in their little blurbs. Feel free to ask! If one or another gets enough attention, I might write a full article like I’ve done for bigger divinities.

TW for alcoholism mentions in the second entry, and body horror and major unsanitary themes in the final entry.

Keep reading

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monstersdownthepath · 11 days

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How Gremlins Are Made

Every now and again on the wonderful world of Golarion, the barrier between this world and the first--the land where the Fey live and frolic--weakens just enough for a wisp of fey magic to blow through, like a dandelion seed carried by the wind. Now, normally, these wisps are no more dangerous than an errant strand of spider's silk blown free from the web, and they land somewhere where they do no harm, causing a flower to grow or a bug to be born or an egg to hatch a little earlier than it normally would... but that's just the thing: like a strand of spider's silk, this wisp of fey magic is sticky. Not sticky in a way that a fly or a bird would get caught by, but sticky in a way like a good joke or a strange word or a harsh insult is sticky.

And that's where it starts.

As mentioned, these wisps normally just blow away, off to give vigor to some tiny plant or patch of land... but sometimes, they blow somewhere men and elves live, and they can can start catching onto things they shouldn't. Thoughts and ideas, emotions and energy, words and actions, all of these create tiny waves in the world, so small and fleeting that they're impossible for most to notice, but for these thin wisps of fey power, a spoken word may as well be a twig stuck out in the air that they can tangle around.

Some fey are born this way, you know. A lot of them, in fact, are born when these wisps of power collect enough words, thoughts, feelings, and deeds, but we're not talking about 'some' fey, we're talking about gremlins, the nastiest of the fey. THESE unfortunate buggers are born when a wisp catches onto something cruel. A cruel word spoken, a cruel deed done, a cruel thought passing over one's mind... Any act of cruelty starts the snowball, and once it starts, it's nearly impossible to stop. This wisp of mischief collects this cruelty unintentionally, and that cruelty builds up over it like dust on a cobweb until it downright resembles one! A nasty, musty mess of ugly thoughts and tangled curses that eventually drifts somewhere the sunlight can't touch it, where it weaves itself into a foul, hairy cocoon.

Gremlins are born from these cocoons. Born from mischief, nursed by cruelty, and full of tricks as any fey, they set out into the world to do as all that lives does: to thrive, grow, and spread. One gremlin can become many in short order as they snatch wisps of fey power from the air and weave in their own acts of cruelty, though (thankfully) most aren't smart enough to know a wisp when they see one... though this is only a small mercy, because if a gremlin cannot find a wisp to nurse, it will instead be cruel all the time in the hopes that a wisp happens to be passing by.

It's certainly easy to see a town suffering from a gremlin infestation and clutch your pearls, wondering how awful these people must be to each other for so much cruelty to exist. It's easy to say that surely, these folks must deserve whatever torments their fey neighbors must be delivering upon them, if they're acting foul enough to attract them! But keep mercy in your heart and some damn sense in your mind, because a gremlin parade is no show of how rotten a town is! Just how unlucky they are. Gremlins can be born from any act of cruelty, and who among the races of man and elf can say they've never thought a single cruel thought, even one never voiced or acted upon?

In fact, if all a town has in regards to foul fey is gremlins, that's certainly a good sign! Acts of cruelty spawn gremlins, but acts of pure malice? Pure hate? Pure spite? All out in the open, shouted into the air? Well, those can cause things much, much, much worse than gremlins to hatch from those greasy black cocoons.

#original concepts #Pathfinder #a little look into how i envision fey work #at least the ones that manifest in the material plane

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