Aesopian

Great work

Should we give them group TP pex?

I love how insanely confusing our lore is that we are basically ‘this is dnd but we don’t want to say it’

The mother of malice, the long-dead god, the sire of claw and tail, the hand that grasps at the world’s future… Her fingers coil around your throat so tightly that, when you wake from your dreamless sleep, it is with a strangled, desperate whisper. Alone in the sewer, the only ears to hear your gasps are those of the desiccated corpses that were your previous victims. It has been only days since you sacrificed them, yet all that is left is a crumbled mess of dust and bone. REVENGE. Like a newborn kit having its unready eyes peeled open, you feel yourself yanked upright. The pressure on your neck releases; your rasping breaks into a cough. You nearly fall back over – your body unsteady – but you just barely manage to stay upright. You ascertain that you are weaker, again. You cannot remember the last time rest rejuvenated you. It feels that whenever you shut your eyes, whether in a blink or in sleep, something more of you is gone when you opened them back up. Your back, once merely bent, has now collapsed into a permanent stoop. Skin sags over your bones like wet cloth, freshly speckled with liver spots. Hair stretches as a grey matt all the way to your hips. Formerly razor-sharp eyes, that could pick a sparrow from twenty trunks’ distance, now manage only an unfocused smear of grey where the brick wall opposite you stood. You could hardly believe that your nineteenth birthday was only four months ago. REVENGE. Her breathy, hate-drenched voice seeps into your mind. You know the only salve for the years crippling your body is to sacrifice to the mother of malice, to pay for your youth with the time of another. You must kill. By killing another, you could take their time for your own, and satisfy the hunger of the mother. From the sewer grate above, moonlight spills like silver water. Perhaps you would be lucky, and some reckless wetnurse has left a babe behind an unlocked window. It feels like a sign. The mother’s power had been growing, and she had become so strong now that the world could feel her claws digging deeper into its past every day. The sacrifices you had made – that your brothers and sisters had made, all throughout the world – had made it possible. Her greatest curse freshly unfolding… Food no longer keeps. Bread blisters into a crawling smear of mold before it leaves the pantry. Fruit blackens from the stem inward, syruping into a sweet, sour ooze that attracts fat, greedy crows; apples split open and breathe a stink of fermented sugar. Salted meat becomes a dry, powdery husk that flakes to dust when touched, and fresh fish bulge and crack under the light, eyes collapsing into black milk. Dairy sours into a thin, curdling film that refuses even the rats; jars of pickles weep and grow hair. This was her doing. Time stolen, in countless slivers, accelerating the aging of all life. All in service to return her to horrible existence… Metztli. The previous god of time, who now devours the past to feed her future. You had heard stories from sailors that her gargantuan rotting corpse, far away in Arcas, grows riper with offal every day. Her skull, once bleached snow-white by the sun, now wears the rotting countenance of a beautiful woman dead scarcely a week. By consuming time, she pushes her own death into the future, and it would not be long now before her death is in the future, and she would be alive again in the present. Steadily, she is closer to the present, closer to now, and you could only imagine the horror she would inflict upon her enemies once she is finally reborn into–but in the midst of your musing, her voice returns. It is so loud that it obliterates all thought. It rolls over your consciousness as easily as an artist draws her brush through paint. REVENGE–LIFE–AGAIN… AND YET, THEY WOULD SAVE IBLEES IN THE NETHER FOR TEN THOUSAND YEARS, BUT NOT ONE OF THEM COULD SAVE ME? NOT ONE OF THEM COULD INTERVENE ON MY BEHALF–COULD STOP MY DEATH? MY FAMILY, MY FRIENDS, ALL OF THEM, USELESS–FECKLESS–WORTHLESS… THIS FETID FUTURE, THIS PATH HAS ALWAYS BEEN WRONG. THIS REALITY WAS NEVER MEANT TO EXIST. IT HAS BEEN PERVERTED AWAY FROM THE TRUE PATH, THIS SUFFERING A CRUEL AND DISGUSTING JOKE– MY MURDERER–YOU– I WILL SEE IT. I WILL MAKE IT. I WILL TAKE THIS UNJUST WORLD AND I WILL BREAK IT. UNTIL I HAVE MY JUSTICE… I WILL LIVE A THOUSAND-THOUSAND-THOUSAND LIFETIMES ACROSS A THOUSAND TIMELINES ACROSS A THOUSAND REALITIES IF IT MEANS I WILL KILL YOU IN ONE OF THEM. I WILL PLACE INTO THE MINDS OF MY SPAWN THE ONE AND ONLY TRUTH THEY EVER NEED KNOW: THAT YOU MUST BE DESTROYED. I WILL CUT SHORT A THOUSAND FATES IF EVEN ONE OF THEM COULD BE YOURS. I WILL, AND NOTHING COULD EVER STOP ME. I WILL TWIST THE COURSE OF EVERY FUTURE UNTIL THEY LEAD TO ONLY ONE DESTINATION: YOUR INEVITABLE DEATH.

Wow look at all that info!!!! 🐸

wowj what do you think about if i made it so ST can change player's age on their character cards

great work, this looks pretty cool

I don’t know what this means but it makes me laugh

Suppose that the Empire of Man succeeds in conquering the world. Do you think staff should instantly force wars of rebellion? Do you think staff should regulate its control over its vassals? Do you think ST should be encouraged to turn the Emperor into a Dark Lord of the Sith? I personally prefer just the last option (because @Werew0lfas the Lich King would be fun).

Pretty cool post I dig it

Keep in mind, these effects were present in Nexus, and saw no warclaim use. I can nerf it down to like 5 seconds, though.