For those who followed my thread '[Vile? Mature] Going too far', you saw the plot I was dealing with (along with the problems I was having). Well, I wanted to get Enworld's thoughts on this.
The PCs ended last session with retrieving the Journal of the head Defiler from a chamber beneath a dead tree. The grabbing of the book triggered tainted Earth Elementals from drawing upward, and attacking the party. After a good fight, they began to read.
My goal here is to create a window into the villain. A man who was not evil, but did something because the 'ends justified the means'. And then he couldn't stop. And he slowly decended down into depraved, wretched madness.
Thoughts are always welcome.
They've taken him. Taken him and hidden him somewhere in that cursed jungle. They hide among the trees, the high grass, the vines. Those uncooth savages, they believe the war is over, wittled down our men. Now, now it is more then simply military. He's been taken. They draw their power from the earth? The jungle around them? Very well. I know a way how to shut them out. Stop them. It is shunned, but we are losing; it must be done. I will tear up every acre of green life until I find him, and kill every last one of those bloodthirsty fiends. The dates are scribbled at the bottom, Rose likely having overlooked it. It's marked over ten years ago.
<i>A Necromancer by the name of Ashren the Gnarled had been flung into the Unseelie Court by means of a magical battle. The dark fey took to him like wolves on a sick lamb. They tortured his body and mind. Yet, versed as he was in the ways of pain and death, he prevailed their tortures; he turned it off, essentially. So impressed were the Unseelie that they granted him a gift. A gift of Blight Magic. While there are notes of Blight Magic making it into the hands of others - Druids, Priests, and the like - This was the first documented Arcane wielder to use Blight Magic, and Ashren returned to the Prime with this power at his hands. His notes had been distributed throughout certain circles, copied into darker texts. Some sought to destroy them, others hid them away, or gave them over to infernal creatures for safe keeping.</i>
<i>I used the Defilement today. After a ritual, where I drew from the earth its' nurishing powers, I collected the foul energies, and kept them. I did this in the heart of the jungle, under careful guard. When I was done, the very earth around me was bleak and drained. That should strike fear into the hearts of these ignorant savages. I feel... dirty, using the work of a Necromancer. Death magic, Negative energy, it's ugly, and wrong.</i> Dated three days later.
<i>I encountered the first small guerilla force since my ritual. Ever since the drawing of this essence, I've felt different. Like there is something under my skin, pushing outwards, wiggling, wanting free. The savages seemed enraged and terrified at the same time. And then I unleashed it. One of them was reduced to a wretching fit after the foul magics washed over him. He was soon cut down. I then crushed another with a quintet of arcane bolts. It was at its' full potential, but the energies allowed me to cast it as a simple thing, not larger then it would have. It shattered him. The spells leeched the air, set the others on their heels and they ran. But, as I had cast them, it felt so horribly good. This burning chill inside my bones fled into the Art as it left my fingers, leaving me exhilirated... But once it was gone, I felt cold. I must be careful, wary of this power. After this war, no more.</i>
<i>We're beating back the savages. We've lost many men, but they've lost more. They are scared, and their morale is breaking. I've claimed an acre with my rituals, and it is getting to them. They cry as they fight. Our scouts have said they have found where many are hiding. Here's to hoping my son is there, alive.</i> Two weeks later.
<i>I've loaded myself to the brim. The Blight races inside of me, swirling and churning like some possessive spirit. I've drained so much from the land, all the power I can safely take is holed up in me. I feel tense, tnese like my whole body could climax, is ready to spring outward. I'm having trouble sleeping, with all of this energy pent up. But we set forth to fight, tomorrow, to seek the heart of them out. Gods protect you, Jonsan.</i>
<i>They're all dead. All of them. Everyone. The savages. My unit. Jonsan. Everyone. Dead. I buried him, away from the raped land. And... all I can feel is nothing. Nothing for all this loss. I can't... cry. I can't cry for him. My flesh and blood... No more. So much this has cost me... And it is Ashren's fault.</i>
Four months later. <i>I threw up blood today. My magic is faultering. It calls to me, it wants to join with my magic, make it strong again. The Blight hungers for me... I'm feeling sick without it. Maybe if I simply drain some, and leave it within, it will stop this horrible ache.</i>
Two weeks later. <i>It wants out! Out, it wants to be free. Like bottled lightning. There must be some gluttonous demon inside of me, that wants to suck the life and spit it out and keep going. The longer I keep it in, my stomach twists. And then the migraines. Oh... It burns. It wants to be cast, to be used. What... what have I done? My skin is turning gray. I flogged a courier because an envelope was stained; I couldn't control it. Gods help me.</i>
<i>I've killed, and dealed, and worked, and scrounged, and I found more of Ashren's notes. I'm seeing things now; hearing them. Nothing paticular, but they flicker in the corner of the eye, they trick the ears. Ashren's notes bare how to stop the blight's gnawings. A few methods, yes.</i>
<i>I've found pain, pain makes the hurting go away. Others pain, my pain. The screams of others chase the bats off. No, no they come back. But they are scared, scared of others' blood. Yes... more blood. Pain stops it, pain the Blight likes, it soothes it.</i> The margines are smeared with dried, dark stains.
A month later. <i>I've born a familiar. From clay, and raw ingredients, and a ritual, I've born a familiar. The notes say that this familiar can be implanted the taints and problems of the Blight. And in good time, too.</i>
<i>I thought a cat was watching me. No, spying. Spying for some spellcaster; a spy for the Hunters or the Diciples of Fell. But after I examined its' eyes under a lense, I couldn't find a trace of magic. Maybe it's the bats... I hear them. I hear them in the night, how their little squeaks cry for me, cry my name, they want my blood. I've fireballed the trees outside, but still they squeak. I've even seen them amid the shadows on the ceiling. But the light, a bright light by the bed, it keeps them at bay. Yes...</i>
Two months later. The writing is slightly mangled. <i>My fingers have grown into talons. My skin, it's grey and leathery. The migraines have returned, the bats, they hunger for me more. They scream. It's getting worse. I can feel the Blight gnawing at my very being. I made an egg's insides turn black just by holding it. But I've found a cure. A partial cure, yes... A vial of holy water. Just a drought, and it makes it all go away, just a little. But it burns me so viciously, like boiling acid. The pureness of the water fighting the Blight's taint.</i> Written in tiny letters in the margin. <i>I am a wretched parasite.</i>
Three weeks later. <i>Milanali. A poor little elf I found today, half buried beneath some rocks. Poor thing is madder then I am. I've taken her in, and helping her heal. She blames Life for the loss of life yet lived. She feels betrayed. I've told her Death comes to all things. This has comforted her. And so fascinated is she with the Blight - Brother Decay she calls it - and how it defiles this Sister life. She seems so taken with me, so innocent, so pure. So attractive.</i> Scribbled out is 'H-r p-ain will be .. .... .. reli-f. <i>No.</i> has been boldy written over it.
Three months later. <i>A cleric. Yes, how wonderful they are. A simple removal of the curse upon me has melted the problems of the most fierce corruption from me. It ripped the Blighted powers too - another ritual is in order - but it helped! Oh how it did. And within a grounds of Concecration, the migraines, they've gone... The fears, the nagging sore minds. I've found another Blight Magic wielder. A charming half-orc woman, the cleric of some god of destruction and so on. It's good to have friends.</i>
<i>This must stop... I nearly killed Milanali, because I flew off the handle. I nearly killed her, because of this... this rot upon me. A sweet rot, it helps my... I must rid myself of it. But how? How can I? This cursed addiction, this gnawing it's the bats... No, not the bats. The Hunters, the Diciples... No, they hate the Blight like I do. If it wasn't for Ashren's trip... Yes! Yes, the trip. The Unseelie. They did this. They can fix it. How? How can... The notes. More notes. Must find more notes...</i>
Little messages have been written into the margines, all along this part of the journal. <i>If I die... good.</i> <i>Burn, burn, twist, burn, come back to death, burn again. They dance, they scream, the fires, they soothe.</i> <i>Bleed, blight. Go away, Blight. Die, you will go. Go away. Blood. Pain. Sing to me.</i>
A month ago. <i>The High Forest. Here I must go... To drain the mighty forest. No! The Blight seeks this, yes, no, I must go here, to make it go away. Because it wants me to kill. More. To drain the body of it's life, such a rush... I just read that, and I can't believe... The High Forest. The Unseelie. They will release me. Release me from this torment. I've been reading the notes. Kill them, offer to them, yes... Drain the earth, make them proud... Offer to them a sacrifice... Come, come come. Much to die. Must prepare.</i>
Last week. <i>I have the offering prepared. The spirits of two Dryads and a Sylph have been trapped within a container. To these, I will offer to the Unseelie court. They will be claimed, be taken, for whatever the dark fey want... and then I will free one... one of the beasts, the Bringers of the Blight, and they will cure me. They must. They will be in my power, for the offering. I will ask. Freedome! No longer will children and animals cower in my presence. The world withers around me; I am a leech upon it as much as it is upon me. But no longer. Yes, no longer will all be after me. Blessed be. No longer will I have to kill the spies at every door, every turn, on the street, watching me... Yes. MIlanali goes to collect components. Items to make them die. To stop them, stop those who will stop me from ending the Blight. Yes. Kill them. All of them. I must prepare for the offering. So many to stop me. The forest will be saved, when I am through.</i>
Today? <i>I go now. I go to the Fey Mounds, to make the offering. I have trapped this clearing, so no one finds this book. So none know where to look, how to find the blight, because the Blight Knows I'm forsaking it. The blight wants out, wants more decay upon the earth. But, no. No, might I but I will, I won't let it. I won't let it be found, you see. I'm killing it. Yes! As I kill the tree, as I taint the earth with the Elementals, I am giving the Blight its' last. Sweet revenge upon you, foulness! You cannot read. You do not know... I will drink your last today. And then, then I will be free. Young again. Human and whole. And I'll kill everything that gets in my way. Because you, you my little decaying demon, you will be done for.</i>
[edit] On second thought, does this belong in another forum?
The PCs ended last session with retrieving the Journal of the head Defiler from a chamber beneath a dead tree. The grabbing of the book triggered tainted Earth Elementals from drawing upward, and attacking the party. After a good fight, they began to read.
My goal here is to create a window into the villain. A man who was not evil, but did something because the 'ends justified the means'. And then he couldn't stop. And he slowly decended down into depraved, wretched madness.
Thoughts are always welcome.
They've taken him. Taken him and hidden him somewhere in that cursed jungle. They hide among the trees, the high grass, the vines. Those uncooth savages, they believe the war is over, wittled down our men. Now, now it is more then simply military. He's been taken. They draw their power from the earth? The jungle around them? Very well. I know a way how to shut them out. Stop them. It is shunned, but we are losing; it must be done. I will tear up every acre of green life until I find him, and kill every last one of those bloodthirsty fiends. The dates are scribbled at the bottom, Rose likely having overlooked it. It's marked over ten years ago.
<i>A Necromancer by the name of Ashren the Gnarled had been flung into the Unseelie Court by means of a magical battle. The dark fey took to him like wolves on a sick lamb. They tortured his body and mind. Yet, versed as he was in the ways of pain and death, he prevailed their tortures; he turned it off, essentially. So impressed were the Unseelie that they granted him a gift. A gift of Blight Magic. While there are notes of Blight Magic making it into the hands of others - Druids, Priests, and the like - This was the first documented Arcane wielder to use Blight Magic, and Ashren returned to the Prime with this power at his hands. His notes had been distributed throughout certain circles, copied into darker texts. Some sought to destroy them, others hid them away, or gave them over to infernal creatures for safe keeping.</i>
<i>I used the Defilement today. After a ritual, where I drew from the earth its' nurishing powers, I collected the foul energies, and kept them. I did this in the heart of the jungle, under careful guard. When I was done, the very earth around me was bleak and drained. That should strike fear into the hearts of these ignorant savages. I feel... dirty, using the work of a Necromancer. Death magic, Negative energy, it's ugly, and wrong.</i> Dated three days later.
<i>I encountered the first small guerilla force since my ritual. Ever since the drawing of this essence, I've felt different. Like there is something under my skin, pushing outwards, wiggling, wanting free. The savages seemed enraged and terrified at the same time. And then I unleashed it. One of them was reduced to a wretching fit after the foul magics washed over him. He was soon cut down. I then crushed another with a quintet of arcane bolts. It was at its' full potential, but the energies allowed me to cast it as a simple thing, not larger then it would have. It shattered him. The spells leeched the air, set the others on their heels and they ran. But, as I had cast them, it felt so horribly good. This burning chill inside my bones fled into the Art as it left my fingers, leaving me exhilirated... But once it was gone, I felt cold. I must be careful, wary of this power. After this war, no more.</i>
<i>We're beating back the savages. We've lost many men, but they've lost more. They are scared, and their morale is breaking. I've claimed an acre with my rituals, and it is getting to them. They cry as they fight. Our scouts have said they have found where many are hiding. Here's to hoping my son is there, alive.</i> Two weeks later.
<i>I've loaded myself to the brim. The Blight races inside of me, swirling and churning like some possessive spirit. I've drained so much from the land, all the power I can safely take is holed up in me. I feel tense, tnese like my whole body could climax, is ready to spring outward. I'm having trouble sleeping, with all of this energy pent up. But we set forth to fight, tomorrow, to seek the heart of them out. Gods protect you, Jonsan.</i>
<i>They're all dead. All of them. Everyone. The savages. My unit. Jonsan. Everyone. Dead. I buried him, away from the raped land. And... all I can feel is nothing. Nothing for all this loss. I can't... cry. I can't cry for him. My flesh and blood... No more. So much this has cost me... And it is Ashren's fault.</i>
Four months later. <i>I threw up blood today. My magic is faultering. It calls to me, it wants to join with my magic, make it strong again. The Blight hungers for me... I'm feeling sick without it. Maybe if I simply drain some, and leave it within, it will stop this horrible ache.</i>
Two weeks later. <i>It wants out! Out, it wants to be free. Like bottled lightning. There must be some gluttonous demon inside of me, that wants to suck the life and spit it out and keep going. The longer I keep it in, my stomach twists. And then the migraines. Oh... It burns. It wants to be cast, to be used. What... what have I done? My skin is turning gray. I flogged a courier because an envelope was stained; I couldn't control it. Gods help me.</i>
<i>I've killed, and dealed, and worked, and scrounged, and I found more of Ashren's notes. I'm seeing things now; hearing them. Nothing paticular, but they flicker in the corner of the eye, they trick the ears. Ashren's notes bare how to stop the blight's gnawings. A few methods, yes.</i>
<i>I've found pain, pain makes the hurting go away. Others pain, my pain. The screams of others chase the bats off. No, no they come back. But they are scared, scared of others' blood. Yes... more blood. Pain stops it, pain the Blight likes, it soothes it.</i> The margines are smeared with dried, dark stains.
A month later. <i>I've born a familiar. From clay, and raw ingredients, and a ritual, I've born a familiar. The notes say that this familiar can be implanted the taints and problems of the Blight. And in good time, too.</i>
<i>I thought a cat was watching me. No, spying. Spying for some spellcaster; a spy for the Hunters or the Diciples of Fell. But after I examined its' eyes under a lense, I couldn't find a trace of magic. Maybe it's the bats... I hear them. I hear them in the night, how their little squeaks cry for me, cry my name, they want my blood. I've fireballed the trees outside, but still they squeak. I've even seen them amid the shadows on the ceiling. But the light, a bright light by the bed, it keeps them at bay. Yes...</i>
Two months later. The writing is slightly mangled. <i>My fingers have grown into talons. My skin, it's grey and leathery. The migraines have returned, the bats, they hunger for me more. They scream. It's getting worse. I can feel the Blight gnawing at my very being. I made an egg's insides turn black just by holding it. But I've found a cure. A partial cure, yes... A vial of holy water. Just a drought, and it makes it all go away, just a little. But it burns me so viciously, like boiling acid. The pureness of the water fighting the Blight's taint.</i> Written in tiny letters in the margin. <i>I am a wretched parasite.</i>
Three weeks later. <i>Milanali. A poor little elf I found today, half buried beneath some rocks. Poor thing is madder then I am. I've taken her in, and helping her heal. She blames Life for the loss of life yet lived. She feels betrayed. I've told her Death comes to all things. This has comforted her. And so fascinated is she with the Blight - Brother Decay she calls it - and how it defiles this Sister life. She seems so taken with me, so innocent, so pure. So attractive.</i> Scribbled out is 'H-r p-ain will be .. .... .. reli-f. <i>No.</i> has been boldy written over it.
Three months later. <i>A cleric. Yes, how wonderful they are. A simple removal of the curse upon me has melted the problems of the most fierce corruption from me. It ripped the Blighted powers too - another ritual is in order - but it helped! Oh how it did. And within a grounds of Concecration, the migraines, they've gone... The fears, the nagging sore minds. I've found another Blight Magic wielder. A charming half-orc woman, the cleric of some god of destruction and so on. It's good to have friends.</i>
<i>This must stop... I nearly killed Milanali, because I flew off the handle. I nearly killed her, because of this... this rot upon me. A sweet rot, it helps my... I must rid myself of it. But how? How can I? This cursed addiction, this gnawing it's the bats... No, not the bats. The Hunters, the Diciples... No, they hate the Blight like I do. If it wasn't for Ashren's trip... Yes! Yes, the trip. The Unseelie. They did this. They can fix it. How? How can... The notes. More notes. Must find more notes...</i>
Little messages have been written into the margines, all along this part of the journal. <i>If I die... good.</i> <i>Burn, burn, twist, burn, come back to death, burn again. They dance, they scream, the fires, they soothe.</i> <i>Bleed, blight. Go away, Blight. Die, you will go. Go away. Blood. Pain. Sing to me.</i>
A month ago. <i>The High Forest. Here I must go... To drain the mighty forest. No! The Blight seeks this, yes, no, I must go here, to make it go away. Because it wants me to kill. More. To drain the body of it's life, such a rush... I just read that, and I can't believe... The High Forest. The Unseelie. They will release me. Release me from this torment. I've been reading the notes. Kill them, offer to them, yes... Drain the earth, make them proud... Offer to them a sacrifice... Come, come come. Much to die. Must prepare.</i>
Last week. <i>I have the offering prepared. The spirits of two Dryads and a Sylph have been trapped within a container. To these, I will offer to the Unseelie court. They will be claimed, be taken, for whatever the dark fey want... and then I will free one... one of the beasts, the Bringers of the Blight, and they will cure me. They must. They will be in my power, for the offering. I will ask. Freedome! No longer will children and animals cower in my presence. The world withers around me; I am a leech upon it as much as it is upon me. But no longer. Yes, no longer will all be after me. Blessed be. No longer will I have to kill the spies at every door, every turn, on the street, watching me... Yes. MIlanali goes to collect components. Items to make them die. To stop them, stop those who will stop me from ending the Blight. Yes. Kill them. All of them. I must prepare for the offering. So many to stop me. The forest will be saved, when I am through.</i>
Today? <i>I go now. I go to the Fey Mounds, to make the offering. I have trapped this clearing, so no one finds this book. So none know where to look, how to find the blight, because the Blight Knows I'm forsaking it. The blight wants out, wants more decay upon the earth. But, no. No, might I but I will, I won't let it. I won't let it be found, you see. I'm killing it. Yes! As I kill the tree, as I taint the earth with the Elementals, I am giving the Blight its' last. Sweet revenge upon you, foulness! You cannot read. You do not know... I will drink your last today. And then, then I will be free. Young again. Human and whole. And I'll kill everything that gets in my way. Because you, you my little decaying demon, you will be done for.</i>
[edit] On second thought, does this belong in another forum?
Last edited:
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