Infinite Darkness

>>918512
>Lich - With your soul bound inside your phylactery, your body rotted into a haunting skeleton. Your studies, no longer restricted by petty needs such as food and sleep, surged forward into new heights, and your talents at Necromancy and Frost magics became unparalleled.

>>918512
>Druid. Tied into the planet's life-force itself, you became one with the world and saw the evils of civilization for what they were: a cancer upon your Mother.

>>918512
>Druid - Tied into the planet's life-force itself, you became one with the world and saw the evils of civilization for what they were: a cancer upon your Mother. With the power to walk in the skins of any of Mother's children, and the strength to raise the green of her blessing using only your magic, you vowed to cleanse her of all thinking creatures. Your promise remains unfulfilled.

>>918512
>Runic Warrior - By cutting into your flesh, inscribing yourself with arcane symbols and words in lengthy rituals, you have become more than any mere human. You have modified your body, your magic, even the laws of the universe itself around you to suit your needs. Your magic lies dormant now, except when you access the gifts given to you by fate and your own brilliance, but what else could you ever need?

>>918628
och, sorry bout my trip. QMing http://boards.4chan.org/qst/thread/897037#bottom

>>918512
>Unbound Soul Mage - Dark magic always called to you, from the day you first received your wand, and the creation of Horcruxes was naturally too tempting. By unbinding your soul, and storing 4 tiny pieces each into a powerful magical artifact, you extended your life indefinitely and became a true immortal. Not even death could stop your power.

>>918602
1 For Lich
>>918615
>>918627
2 For Druid
>>918628
1 For Runic Warrior
>>918635
1 For Unbound Soul Mage

I'll leave the vote open until half past, then call it. Thanks for the responses, guys.

File: dani-mccole-druid.jpg (253KB, 1280x913px) Image search: [Google]

253KB, 1280x913px

>>918637
Called, and writing for, Druid.

>>918655
You turn inward, following your connection to Mother. She grips you in a frail hand, like a hug with shaking arms. You feel her melancholy and her aching fatigue, almost as strong as her overwhelming joy at the return of her most favored child. Her strength, your strength, has waned. Your return will be her return, and your promise will finally be fulfilled.

The callouses on your hands gently probe the inside of your cage, finding the surface smooth and uniform. Your hungry eyes find no purchase in the absolute darkness, but your green can see for you. It extends across the inside of your enclosure, mapping every inch inside your mind. There is no opening, so you focus on your First Totem, thoughts of escape driving your already considerable power from it's apparently lengthy vacation.

Behind your eyes, visions swim of your First Totem's natural domain. You see…

>The darkness of deep ocean

>The swaying grass of the open plains

> The unnerving stillness of the deepest jungle

>>918671
>The darkness of deep ocean

>>918671
>The unnerving stillness of the deepest jungle

>>918671
>The darkness of deep ocean

>>918671
>>>The swaying grass of the open plains

>>918672
>>918674
2 for Ocean
>>918673
>>918679
1 each for jungle and plains.

Writing for Ocean, it is. Could I have two of you roll 1d100, please?

Rolled 41 (1d100)

>>918682

Rolled 26 (1d100)

>>918682

Rolled 77 (1d100)

>>918682

>>918682
You feel the icy waters upon your skin as if you were submerged within their inky depths. Your arms lengthen and your head melts down into your body as you expand exponentially. More limbs grow like branches, and your cage is entirely full all too soon. You continue to expand out, shattering the thin walls of your enclosure and spilling your still ballooning anatomy out into the unknown.

Your eyes burn with the bright, sterile light of fluorescent bulbs lining the ceiling. Your form, now finished growing in the much larger room, spreads out evenly. Your two longer tentacles, which you will forever think of as your 'arms', fly up instinctively against the threat you imagine waits outside your sturdy cocoon.

You try to remember before the cage. Your head pounds, the light still burning your eyes. You slowly collapse back into your naked, human form. Your pale, jaundiced skin is wrinkled and covered with tiny, intricate tattoos. Knotted cords of ink trace from the sole of your right foot, up and around your leg, across your lower back and up over your left shoulder, down to your right hip and across your back once more to rise over the back of your neck and head and end upon your forehead in a larger, more intricate knot, resembling your First Totem: The Colossal Squid.

Your head pounds once more, but your eyes grow accustomed to the light finally. You look around and gape, finally noticing that you are not alone.

>1d100 for perception, first rolled is first accepted.

Rolled 18 (1d100)

>>918694

Rolled 92 (1d100)

>>918694

>>918694
Men stand before you, but unlike any you've ever even imagined. You've seen alchemists blaspheme Mother's wisdom, binding animals together to create monstrosities so unholy you dare not speak their name, yet these men beguile your eyes even more. Their skin is dark, but rough and patched. Dark grays and browns mottle their faces and limbs, and their glowing red eyes scan over your form with slow, cautious intent. Every movement is carefully observed, yet none draw closer.

The pounding in your head resumes once more, accompanied this time with your nose spitting blood across your mouth and chest. Pain blossoms like a new sapling in your skull, and you ready your green.

As you do, lights begin to flash near the men, and their voices, like a chorus of bells ringing inside a flock of birds, chatter all at once. The noise grates upon your soul, as well as your ears. Between the pain, the noise, and the unfamiliarity, you can barely think. What will you do?

>Continue the healing spell, you must make yourself whole.
>Try again to remember, the spell can wait.
>Write-in

>>918702
>Continue the healing spell, you must make yourself whole.

>>918702
>Continue the healing spell, you must make yourself whole.

>>918702
>1d100 please, first rolled first accepted.

Rolled 6 (1d100)

>>918710

>>918711
my dice are cursed

>>918710
>>918711
The blood ceases to spill down your front, but the pain in your head still flows fresh with each hammering beat of your heart. Your green still responds sluggishly, even healing yourself has become more difficult.

The lights continue to flash, and the strange men slowly move toward you. Their hands hold tiny boxes, each pointed at you. Menacingly, perhaps? Their muddled faces are hard to read, especially with the dull agony roaring like a lion inside your frail, tired head. They draw ever closer, nearing arm's reach, and one of them offers a hand. Upturned, with it's three-digited, single-jointed fingers all seemingly relaxed. A peaceful symbol?
>What will you do?

>Place your hand in the creature's.
>Drive them back with words
>Drive them back with force
>Attempt to stir your green and heal yourself once more
>Write in

>>918714
>Attempt to stir your green and heal yourself once more

Gotta heal up

>>918714
>Attempt to stir your green and heal yourself once more

Alrighty then, let's give this another shot

>>918714
>Attempt to stir your green and heal yourself once more

>>918716
>>918721
>>918722
Let's have another 1d100!

Rolled 60 (1d100)

>>918724
Can't be worse than last time.

Rolled 98 (1d100)

>>918724
Don't know how I keep missing the rolls ffs

>>918714
>>918726
Your green snaps forward like a striking serpent, swallowing the pain and restoring you to perfection. Mother's love runs through your veins like a stampede, and you can feel her singing deep under your feet. Her voice is far away, like a chorus carried upon the wind.

The tiny boxes all around you, still grasped in the strange men's strange hands all spark and sputter, giving out puffs of dark smoke and making them chatter all over again. The offered hand, still held out toward you, is now literally right in front of your face. While you are not short, these men still tower over you. You look at the proffered hand in consideration.

>What will you do?

>Ignore them, focus on remembering what came before the imprisonment.
>Observe the strange creatures more, use your green to read them,
>Accept/decline the hand (semi-write in, please elaborate how).

>>918733
>Observe the strange creatures more, use your green to read them,

Gonna leave voting up for the night while I go to sleep. I'll resume some time tomorrow afternoon.

>>918756
We're at 1 vote for observing so far. I'll leave it open for another half hour and start writing.

>>919544
The green inside you opens outward, crawling out from you in a bubble of invisible awareness as your now useless eyes slowly slide shut. The chattering returns, louder and closer, but you focus and drown it out. The earth greets you warmly, brushing against your mind like a bear against a tree. Knowledge floods your mind, abstract and strange, and you quickly begin to decode and devour with hungry curiosity.

Your heart hammers in your chest, the beat pounding in your ears. The floor seems to fall away from your feet, and tears, fresh after so many millennia, pour across your cracked and ancient cheeks. Finally you remember.

It began with your binding, the ancient tradition of your tribe to tie your life to that of the Earth. Thorns, freely given by Mother, are dipped in ink made from blood and bone, and filled with strange magics. The pain begins at your foot, the knotted cord beginning upon the sole and continuing across your body like the caress of a serpent. It took weeks to complete, and when the final blessed moment came, you met your Mother.

She greeted you with familiarity, for she had always known and loved you. She whispered to you, and you alone, as her chosen. She taught you things, druidry unknown to your tribe and even your race. She revealed to you her most sacred secret: That her children are killing her. Like a cancer inside her bosom, they grow and consume, leaving her weaker and weaker.

Rage, an unfamiliar feeling to someone with your pacifist upbringing, filled your soul. Your green, responding to the injustice, responding to your own towering wrath, lashed out and stripped your family of their own magics. Adding them to your own, consuming them like prey, you made your resolve: You would save your mother, even at the cost of your own life.

They called you Dark Lord, they called you evil. They said you were crazy, that you were warped and dangerous. They all died before your strength, before the strength of Mother. Until the day The Last Druid came before you.

He was strong, strong with Mother like you. His goal was not eradication of thinking life, but the advancement of it. The enhancement of it. The saving and healing and protecting of it. Your outrage was only matched by your disdain, and by your defeat.

He locked you in Mother's embrace, left you supping at her tender nipple, and forgot about you. He thought time would teach you, would change you. He was wrong. Now, instead, you emerge from his cursed prison after time immeasurable. How many years did you sleep? Millions? Billions? Your mind spins and the rage returns.

They will all suffer for this, Mother will finally be free. You swear upon your name…

>Write-In, lets have some good druid name suggestions!

In addition, what will you do next?
>Crush these insects that crawl upon your Mother
>Find out how your prison was exhumed, allowing your escape
>Write-In

>>919899
Verudoctius

>>919899
>>Find out how your prison was exhumed, allowing your escape

>>919899
>>919969
>>919977
Your eyes, radiating Mother's green, snap open and lock onto the beings before you. Intent obvious, you make your first step in this new world, reaching out your hand for the still offered limb. The tall creature begins to pull back, but is both too late and too slow. It's skin is rough, like the rusting armor left behind after your many exhaustive battles. Your green surges forward, through your hand and into your newest victim.

>2 rolls of 1d100 please.

Rolled 7, 10 = 17 (2d100)

Nice quest, I'll be watching.

>>920174
>>920256
Thank you! I appreciate the compliment. Like I said, this is my first time.

The creature's mind offers pitiful resistance, and you destroy its mind utterly, even in your extremely weakened state. As you consume your prey, you feel your strength return just slightly. In your haste and hunger, you are quite wasteful with the green.

Turning inward, you translate what little you are able to glean from the consumption of your prey's soul. These are wizened men, like the Alchemists Guild that once opposed, then later served you. They seek to understand the world, to manipulate it. Their industrialization gives them tools to better this process. These concepts are foreign, but you understand one thing: they take advantage of your Mother, of their Mother.

>What will you do?

>Consume them individually (requires multiple rolls against lower DCs, more efficient feeding but slower)
>Attack them all at once (single roll against a higher DC, less efficient feeding but much faster)
>Flee
>Write-In

>>920333

CONSUME INDIVIDUALLY. ALL MUST BE MADE GREEN.

>>920333
>>921319
8d100 please

Rolled 6, 67, 16, 40, 76, 12, 33, 66 = 316 (8d100)

>>921658