CAS

CAS
Showing posts with label Daemons. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Daemons. Show all posts

Wednesday, November 27, 2019

Project - Daemons and Demons and Devils of the Flanaess - Part 1 Daemons



Project - Daemons and Demons and Devils of the Flanaess - Reference List

Part 1

DAEMONS/Daimon

Anthraxus the Decayed (Daimon)(Oinodaemon)[Deity]
AOE - 233,234
COH - 62

MMII - 27,29,30

Bocheiris (Daemon)[NPC]
NA - 45,46

Brucilosu (Daemon)(Diseased One)[NPC]
        DOD - 50,146,147,150

Bubonis (Daemon)[NPC]
        MMII - 30

Charon (Daemon)[NPC]
        MMII - 28,29

Cholerix (Daemon)[NPC]
        MMII - 30

Diptherius (Daemon)[NPC]
        MMII - 30

Eight Diseased Ones (Daemons)[ORG]
CED - 239,242,244
COH - 357,358,360,362,363,392,393
        DOD - 49,96,98,102,146,151

Ilenz (Daemon)[NPC]
CED - 171,172

Karuglamurin (Guardian Daemon)[NPC]
I7 - 30

Pneumonias (Daemon)[NPC]
COH - 362

Poxpanus (Daemon)[NPC]
COH - 57,58,59,60,61,62,63,64,65,66,70

Putriptoq (Daemon)[NPC]
AOE - 184,185

Rheachan (Daemon)[NPC]
COH - 60,61,62,63,64,65

Tul-Oc-Luc (Arcanadaemon)[NPC]
WG6 - 44

Typhus (Daemon)[NPC]
        MMII - 30

Virulex (Daemon)[NPC]
COH - 358,360,362

Zender (Daemon)[NPC]
COG:C# - 8,13











Friday, June 5, 2015

The Daemon Tells His Tale



The Daemon Tells His Tale


Your world is cold and plain as the skin of a virgin stretched on a drying rack. What I can tell you of the places beyond thought and behind reality would make you cry tears of blood, make you scream till your throat was stripped raw, pleasure you beyond pain and understanding.

Can you see the colors of death? Can you taste the sublime flavors of damnation or hear the unending chorus of those trapped between the veil of life and the curtain of eternity? You would have me rip a handful of threads from the weave of fate and place them in your grasp though each strand would flay your soul. Truly I would laugh at such a sight and bask in the radiance of your torment.

Would you sail with me on the boat of dreams past the boundary of the sane? Take bleeding wings sewn with the severed silver thread that binds your spirit safe to Earth?

The mystic heavens have no place for mortal travelers. To hear of what far fabled lands reside beyond the birth of the moon and the far reaches of the outer dark will set you on a path that will forever take you from the world of man.

There is no safety in words. They will not shield you from the horror of the empty dark. The words are a doorway, a gate to fear and wonder, that once opened can never be closed.


I will tell you of places unreachable filled with the nameless and the unimaginable from which there is no return.

End

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Copyright March 2014 By Jason Zavoda

Sunday, July 28, 2013

Inspiring Illustrations - The Blunt Monster With Uncounted Heads


31). The Blunt Monster With Uncounted Heads

NOTE: These are adventure seeds and setting work for my own Hyperborea campaign inspired by the Astonishing Swordsmen & Sorcerors of Hyperborea Gazetteer

Deep within the forests of the Coast of Scars can be found the ruins of a small stone tower. Its foundation stones are very old and show the marks of fire and of war. How many times the tower has been tumbled and rebuilt none can say, but a few stories of its latest incarnation remain though the upper most levels are cracked and roofless.

Of late a man has come to dwell within this ruin. He is thin and austere, robed as a priest or a sage or crafter of spells. His name is not known, though some call him 'The Mage' or the more lengthy 'The Summoner of Small Daemons'. And that last name is very apt.

All about this man run the smallest of Daemons, run, dance, fly and cavort about him as if around their heart's desire. Should any approach this man with malice in their hearts these Daemons turn from merriment to a vicious defense. Even the greatest of the Devil-swine which haunt the woods give him and his horde a wide berth for those that have not have met their fates buried beneath a thousand small teeth and claws and a thousand more waiting for their chance to blood themselves on their larger kin.

'The Mage' seems pleasant enough, but his flock of small Daemons deters visitors of a more wholesome sort. With each passing day it seems a few more of these tiny Daemonic forms join the throng which surrounds the old tower though some are always flying or scuttling afar to do their adoration's bidding. And as time passes the fewer Devil-swine there are to be found in the woods, though the nearby City-State of Dorset, long overrun with these foul piggish Daemons and their progeny, seems to be swelling in compensation.


How long it will be before 'The Mage' turns his attention to this Daemonic concentration, if that is his ultimate goal, none can tell, but it has been long years since the Coast of Scars has been as clear and safe from the swine-men or their Daemonic masters as it has become due entirely to this unnamed man and his abhorrent following.