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darklordazalin · 1 year

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Azalin reviews Darklord Vecna

Domain: Cavitius Domain Formation: 750 BC Power Level: 💀💀💀💀 💀 Sources: Vecna Lives! (2e), Vecna Reborn (2e), Die Vecna, Die! (2e), Book of Artifacts (2e), Domains of Dread (2e), Dragon Magazine #402 (4e), Vecna Dossier (5e)

Vecna is known by many names. The Master of the Spider Throne. The Lord of the Rotted Tower. The Maimed God/Lord. The One Named Only in Whispers. The Whispered One. The Dying King. The Undying King. While imprisoned in the Mists of Ravenloft, he was known as the Chained God. Aren’t we all?

The ‘history’ surrounding the lives of those that ascended to godhood are obscured by time, embellishments, and outright lies of their followers. Vecna’s is no different. Likely only Vecna, who holds onto secrets like a miser holds onto copper pieces, knows the full truth in these matters.

Vecna was born on my home world of Oerth. Many powerful wizards hail from Oerth: Mordenkainen, Iggwilv, Acerarak, and myself to name a few, but Vecna was said to be the ‘greatest of all wizards’. Though, his life is said to pre-date the ascendancy of the Suloise Empire, so there weren’t likely many wizards to compare him to at the time.

His origins on Oerth aren’t well known, though new information indicates he was born into the peasantry and studied magic in secret when he was forced into servitude after his mother was exiled for performing ‘dark magics’ e.g., the best kind of Necromancy. Despite this recent glimpse into his life, some believe he is from another plane of existence and others say his Rotted Tower simply sprung out of the deeps of the Lake of Nyr Dyv. More likely he was born and rose to power in more traditional and less fantastical means.

Vecna was a master of the arcane and he conquered entire regions of Oerth by creating armies of the undead, constructs, and mortals subjugated to his will. As city after city fell to Vecna’s might, it was not enough for him for only Vecna’s ego could surpass his arcane prowess. Newer scholars believe Vecna rose up against his Master’s and with the whispered voices of an unknown entity (the Serpent, perhaps?) penned all of his evil into the Book of Vile Darkness. Given some of the ‘feats’ in this book of his, I can confirm that it is aptly named.

How did Vecna become a god? Well, the one truth that remains consistent among the many tales surrounding this lich is he had a lust for power and domination that, regardless of how much he took, he could never satisfy. The Zarovan Vistani tell a tale in which Vecna became obsessed with overcoming death after his dear mother passed. An extreme reaction to the death of a parent, but it seems to be a requirement of lichdom to have parental issues…

In his quest for eternal life, Vecna is said to have bred entire villages purely for the purposes of experimenting on them and that he reshaped the landscape of Oerth with his magics – many claim that it was Vecna who created the Bright Desert. Given he was not even a lich when he apparently accomplished these feats, it is more likely that he caused a bit of a drought once with some ill-conceived weather magic.

Vecna used Necromancy to extend his life as he continued to search for a way to extend it indefinitely. There are some that say Vecna was cursed into lichdom by powers greater than his own to punish his pride and arrogance. Though, if that was the case they should have targeted Mordenkainen by now. There is also the mysterious entity known as the Serpent that speaks directly into Vecna’s mind, revealing to him the secrets of multiverse and perhaps provided him with the knowledge to transform into a lich. This Serpent could exist or it could be a creation of Vecna’s own decaying mind. Perhaps a leftover imaginary friend from when he was a child and no one wished to converse with him? I personally believe he sought lichdom himself and most stories tell how he conducted dark, mysterious rituals to transform himself. I’m sure I am more than familiar with the sort of ritual he performed.

Another name that Vecna should consider donning is The Betrayed Lord of He Who Misplaces his Trust. Many know of Kas’s betrayal, but there was another before him: a wizard Apprentice of his known as Acerarak. With desires to obtain his master’s secrets, Acerarak orchestrated Vecna’s near annihilation at the hands of the priests of Pelor. When the lich was at the brink of destruction, Acerarak made a convenient appearance and saved him.

Acerarak soon stole his Master’s secrets and quickly departed before his treachery was discovered. Seeing what Acerarak became, I think it is easy enough to figure out what sort of secrets he stole from Vecna. You’d be correct in blaming Vecna for any damage the Tomb of Horrors/Annihilation has done to you. Humiliated, Vecna became more obsessed with his secrets, swearing to never make the same mistake again.

Then there was Kas the Bloody-Handed or the Destroyer or ultimately, the Betrayer. Kas rose quickly in the ranks of Vecna’s armies, his merciless violence matching Vecna’s own and eventually he became Vecna’s top lieutenant and adviser. If the lich ever had a friend, it was Kas. The two would spend countless hours scheming together to expand Vecna’s empire. So fond of Kas was Vecna, that he extend his life through necromancy. Something I have granted my most loyal of servants. For what better gift is there than the gift of serving me longer…or even forever?

There are two tales regarding how Kas became a vampire. In one, after he could no longer extend his life, Vecna gifted him with a silver, fanged masked. Upon donning the mask, Kas accepted the gift of immortality as a vampire. In the tales told by Vecna’s loyal followers, Kas became a vampire after the pair were claimed by the Mists. I think it more likely the former tale to be the truth as it shows Vecna misplacing his trust a second time, which would be rather embarrassing for a deity of secrets.

As his empire grew, Vecna relied heavily on Kas. He became the lich’s hand of justice and spokesman. Kas’s word was considered as good as Vecna’s. Still, the lich’s past haunted him and the Paranoid Lord could not fathom anyone having true loyalty to him without ulterior motives.

Vecna crafted a sword for Kas. Bards would have you believe the sword was made from the heart of a frozen star and forged in the flames of a stolen sun. Utter nonsense, of course, but it was a very powerful weapon. The lich infused part of his essence into the blade in order to overhear Kas’s plans and, on occasion, read his very thoughts. Perhaps such mind reading spells were beyond Vecna’s abilities? As that seems like a far simpler method.

Kas gave the sword the very original name of The Sword of Kas. The sword, annoyed by its moniker and having taken on far too much of it’s creator’s personality, desired domination and the hording of secrets. Instead of allowing Vecna access to Kas’s conversations and mind, the sword fooled the lich with false thoughts of loyalty while it influenced Kas to betray him. Yes, the God of Secrets and Magic was fooled by a sword he created.

While Vecna was performing complex rituals to ascend to godhood, the sword convinced Kas to attack and destroy the lich. The two were, by all accounts, evenly matched and in the end the only things left of the pair were Vecna’s left hand and eye and the Sword of Kas. All of these artifacts are said to still exist on Oerth and at times, elsewhere. The Sword is one of the few things that may be able to kill the deity of secrets. The eye and hand of Vecna are incredibly powerful, but to use them is to invite the Whispered One into your very soul. Their use in the past has only resulted in disaster for the welders and more often than not fail them at a crucial moment. Fitting for the lich who was cut down by the sword of his own making (unmaking?) by his ‘loyal’ lieutenant while trying to become a god.

Vecna’s essence roamed in between worlds for decades or centuries depending on the source. Foolish mortals continued to worship the fallen lich allowing Vecna to grow in power and become a demigod. That was not enough for his ego, however, and Vecna wished to reshape Oerth in his own image. Working through an Avatar, Vecna began his campaign of domination anew.

Through his Avatar, Vecna had a strong tie to the Prime Material Plane. If he had been satisfied with mere demigodhood, he would never have had this weakness nor a way for the Dark Powers to claim him. But since Vecna’s ego always demands more, the Mists claimed him and his fortress, the Citadel Cavitius.

In Ravenloft, Vecna seethed and obsessed with escaping, but he was also distracted by the presence of Kas the Betrayer, now the lord of Tovag and just on the other side of the volcanic range known as the Burning Peaks that seperated Vecna’s Domain of Cavitus from Kas’s. They sent armies against one another, but as Vlad Drakov has yet to figure out, they could do very little damage to one another.

Cavitius encompassed a life draining desert and a single city, the Cavitius Citadel, where the living survived on fear and desperation. For Vecna knew every event, every thought that occurred within the Citadel’s walls. He was said to “fear none of the living” yet his laws essentially amounted to not worshiping Vecna = death. The lich even outlawed the use of magic just in case one of his subjects decided to rise against him. Sounds like he feared mortals quite a bit, actually.

Trapped in the Mists, Vecna was still a demigod. Some of his more potent abilities include being able to cast any wizard or cleric spell, teleport instantly anywhere in his Domain, and reach his followers outside of Ravenloft. Only the most powerful magical weapons can hope to harm Vecna and even if someone manages to destroy him, he eventually rises again.

Vecna did escape Ravenloft, though because of his pride and desire for vengeance against Kas, he failed in his first attempt. The Serpent taught Vecna the Three Words of Creation, which would transcend him into godhood and thereby break free of his prison. He could have done this without bothering with Kas, but instead he attempted to use the Three Words to be reborn in Togav where he could destroy Kas then escape. This plan ultimately failed as a group of adventurer’s stopped him.

As one should, Vecna did not give up hope and made another attempt to escape, this time ignoring Kas. He knew that in order to become a true god he would need to complete a ritual in which he consumed the essence of another demigod. Seeing as there were no other such beings in Cavitius, Vecna created two tablets, shadowed in mystery and lies, that promised the secrets of transcendence. These tablets drew Iuz, the Corpse King, to Vecna. Iuz invaded Cavitius through a portal from Oerth, but instead of finding his own ascension there, he was consumed by Vecna.

Vecna ascended to true godhood and escaped the Mists. He made his way to the City of Doors (Sigil) and as is his nature, attempted to reshape the entire multiverse in his image. Vecna obviously failed as we are not currently living in a world made up entirely of skulls and imaginary snake friends. Though it is only a matter of time before Vecna tries again…

#darklordreviews #vecna #ravenloft #cavitius #azalin rex #lich #sigilyph #City of Doors

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honourablejester · 10 months

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Factions of Sigil

I’ve been noodling around character options from Sigil and the Outlands (sidenote: I didn’t even hear of this book until it had been out a couple weeks), just out of curiosity. I do like Sigil as a setting, but I just like big fantastic urban settings, and Sigil is an excellent example. I especially like the Hive and Lower Wards and Undersigil, but this will hardly surprise anyone.

I’m browsing the factions of Sigil. The whole defined-by-philosophy is an interesting angle, even if it does feel a little bit Hogwarts-House-y as a player option. But, you know. People like categorising themselves, and I’m likely no exception. So no harm to browse the options, and with that in mind …

I like the Bleakers. Instinctive knee-jerk favourite. First choice of faction, Bleak Cabal. Life has no meaning, so make your own, and generally try to be nice about it. (Yes, I am primarily a cleric player, what about it?). The Bleakers as an organisation offer sanctuary and respite and food and healing for planar maladies or for people who’ve just seen/been through the horrors, and I like them. There’s no grand cause, no greater meaning, so you might as well just help people. Also their home base is in the Hive Ward, which does not detract.

As someone who plays a lot of clerics, and also someone who likes cosmic horror, the Athar are also interesting. The gods are charlatans, because they’re too comprehensible to really be the powers behind something as vast and complicated as the multiverse. Clerics are actually drawing power from unknowable sources, and the deities we know are just taking the credit. That’s … toothy. I could do some stuff with the Defiers, for sure.

The Seekers are also … I mean. Archetypes I like, let’s count them down? It’s funny that the Mind’s Eye and the Bleak Cabal are opposed, but I do enjoy them both. Seekers want to expand their minds and power by constantly seeking and experiencing and learning. Also they make tools for the city, so they pull in the smith archetype, the mad scientist, the iconoclast. Also, becoming a god is a perfectly acceptable goal for a Seeker, as divinity might be one of the steps to your inner truth that you unlock.

The Dusters are … complicated for me. Initially I do quite like them? They have a fair amount in common with the Bleakers, and I also love the undertaker thing, the carers for the dead. That they believe that the multiverse is already an afterlife is fascinating and fun. But the progression, already dead to undead to true death, is where I lose the faction a little bit. Wanting to experience all the facets of death until finally finding true death probably isn’t a character motivation I’d go for myself. I would work for them, but I wouldn’t join them.

I could also noodle around with the Fraternity of Order and the Doomguard. The Fraternity’s rigid legalising isn’t something I’m interested in, but their search for underlying truth via categorisation is, and could make an interesting lawful knowledge seeker. The Doomguard’s cyclical understanding of creation and destruction, what goes up must come down again, plus their access to the smith archetype again, and their bone-and-rust-and-scars aesthetic are all interesting. I could have fun with a Sinker too, I think.

I’m not interested in the Mercykillers, Hands of Havoc, the Fated, or the Transcendent Order. I like that the Society of Sensation exists, but I wouldn’t be part of it. And the Harmonium is … complicated. I feel like it’s a faction where there’s a lot of decent people in it, people that I’d individually like, but ‘peace through might’ as an overriding philosophy is just not one I enjoy.

But. Kneejerk first instincts? Bleaker Life Cleric, Athar Goolock, possibly Fraternity Knowledge Cleric or Doomguard Barbarian.

While we’re in Sigil, though, some random locations and NPCs that I just enjoy:

All of the Hive Ward, I’m greatly enjoying the Hive Ward, but the Grease Pit is just fantastic casual worldbuilding, this fun little alley full of incredibly questionable planar street food. You’ve got a roadkill eatery run by aarakocra, a seafood eatery where you catch your own fish out of an aquatic demiplane, a myconic-operated fungal sandwich shop that sells psychoactive foodstuffs, and a sweet shop run by a faerie dragon and an imp that advertise concoctions ‘sweet enough to rot a lich’s teeth’, among other things. The art has demonic rotisserie shops, yetis selling ice cream, and a mind flayer selling something fried onna stick. It’s fantastic.

All of the Lower Ward also, but Bones of the Night, the cavern library complex of skulls collected by one old dude who uses necromancy (speak with dead) to gain access to their combined knowledge, is definitely a stand-out location. Also the Ditch, Sigil’s one body of water, a horrifying ‘reeking morass’ of corrosive and polluted water and slime (and bodies that have been melted smooth by it), that occasionally runs sweet and clear when a portal opens up and dumps water from a celestial river into it, and everybody in the district bolts down for wash day when this happens.

The Planar Energy Cooperative in the Market Ward is really cool? Founded by archmages from worlds that blew up or were otherwise destroyed due to destructive magic, they run a massive multiversal divination set up to monitor for other worlds that are about to blow themselves up too, and try to siphon magic out of worlds about to go up to stave off destruction. Like. There’s a lot you could do with that, as a concept.

And then Undersigil, all of Undersigil, but the Loop is fantastic. The loop is a closed, circular loop of tunnel that’s only accessed via portal, and if a portal dumps you in here, you can’t get out. And it’s a bit loose from reality, so as you’re running around it in a panic trying to get out, you might see your own back running around a bend ahead of you. It also bends time, so while you were lost in there for ten minutes, you could come out ten thousand years in the future. Or past. Or just sixteen days late. There are also Undersigil factions that know how to navigate it, and use it to telefrag pursuers by running into it, making sure they’re followed, and then running out again and leaving their enemies stuck. Fantastic. Excellent little bit of a thing to stick into your city.

Undersigil also has a hive mind of cranium rats called the Us or the Many-as-One, which is rapidly developing into a neural network that rivals the intellect of a god. So there’s also that. Heh.

I haven’t gotten too far into the Outlands and the Gate Towns yet, but I do like the idea that they’re constantly at risk of being devoured by the planes they’re connected to, so you have to do something ideologically opposed to that plane to keep them in the Outlands. I’m not generally fond of the alignment-based cosmology of D&D, but I do like the idea of people or even an organisation going around being evil in good aligned towns and lawful in chaotic ones not out of any necessary belief in evil or law or good or chaos, but out of pure pragmatism to keep your hometown from being flushed down the planar toilet because it got too extremely one thing or the other. That’d be a great job for a party: your organisation’s whole deal is to be a light in darkness, a dark temptation among virtue, a bastion of law amongst chaos, or a liberating flare amid rigidity, all as required when required, for no ideological reason beyond the physical preservation of your realm.

This is definitely an interesting book.

#d&d #sigil and the outlands #city of doors #factions #locations #worldbuilding #some interesting things

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10bendog · 3 months

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Finally, here's part 3 of the CN City art!

As I promised last time, I'm posting this last piece today to commemorate a very special occasion - my 25th Birthday THE 1 YEAR ANNIVERSARY OF CN AKUMAS' COMPLETION!

These drawings were really fun to make. I'm totally planning on doing some more in the future. Gotta rep more CN shows, after all. :D Maybe I'll make ones for the seasonal events or sth. I'll think about it.

"This is Cartoon Network."

Last, but not least, here's, again, the full renders of the characters in the piece. :D

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aliquistis · 1 year

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Astarion having such a high lockpicking proficiency is so funny to me, like. What's he doing? Picking locks on the houses he can't enter without an invitation?

#pops the door open #hello #i'm here to seduce you #could you please invite me in #why not #look how sexy i am #ugh there is no taste in this city #bg 3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion #bg3

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starry-bi-sky · 6 months

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my body's aching like a knock-down drag-out

and my poor heart is an open wound A Childhood Friends Au snippet that very briefly delves into Danny's life post-accident. CW: Mild Mentions of Blood, Violence, VERY mild gore ig. Danny briefly recalls getting impaled during a fight.

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What they don't tell you about being dead is that it hurts. That it can hurt. That it can hurt more than when you were alive. That when you die, the emotions you die with stick with you like a leech that just won't let go. That emotions are ugly little thorns that stick their barbs into you and grow beneath your skin; or, at least, whatever’s left of it.

Danny is familiar with anger. It kept him warm in Gotham, when his parents weren't home from work and he and Jason were crowding Crime Alley with their presence. It kept him warm in Amity, when the fresh sting of moving was still needling into his heart and he wanted nothing more than to rip and tear into the closest person next to him.

He's familiar with violence. With fights. With death. He's seen people die in Crime Alley probably every day. From overdose, from gunshots, from stab wounds; anything that can kill, rest assured he's seen it. He's familiar with getting his own knuckles rough and bloody when other kids turn and bare their teeth at him and Jason; they're all just starving dogs stuck in a fighting pit, primed and ready to rip out each other's throats.

Black eyes, stomped hands, bloody noses. You name it; he’s had it. Gotham is paved with the blood of her children, and Danny likes to imagine that when he was born, the doctors handed his mother a file and told her; “Take it. He’s going to need it for his teeth.”

Danny’s mom (and dad, for that matter) was too busy trying to keep him and Jazz fed, so Danny stole the file from her drawer with Jazz’s help, and did it himself.

He’s familiar with anger, he thought he was getting better at it these days. It doesn’t come to him as easily as it did before. Of course, that was before Jason died.

Danny is less familiar with grief. Caring kills and Gotham kills the caring, so Danny cares very little about other people. Or he tries to. But grief hurts. His grief hurts. It hurts too much. It hurts like a bug trying to crawl out of his chest; like a rat chewing a hole through his heart. Some days he wants to dig his hands into his hair and split himself down the middle. Some days he just wants to scream.

He’s dead. He’s dead. He’s dead.

He wants the whole city to hear him wailing, some days. It sticks itself in the back of his throat like bile, and Danny is one wrong retch away from letting it loose. It sticks in his lungs like all the tar he’s smoked in since he was nine. It pushes and aches at his temples, in his head, like his brain is trying to swell out of his skull. His thoughts becoming so loud they threaten to commandeer his tongue.

He has no mouth, but he must scream.

Something they don’t tell you about being dead is that it hurts. That it hurts more than when you were alive. Something they don’t tell you about being dead is that it’s violent. That it’s bloody. Or as bloody as it can be when everyone has no blood.

Another thing they don’t tell you about being dead, is that it’s a lot like Gotham that way.

With no threat of death, Danny’s enemies forget death itself. Blood comes easy, like water, and teeth are encouraged. Bring your own fangs to the fight. Dying is something you can just walk off.

Danny’s been dead for three months. He can’t say he’s been walking it off easy. He’s perfected the art of turning his nails into claws since his heart was still beating, but he can’t say he’s perfected fighting other ghosts.

Scrappy is just not enough.

He feels like he’s back in Gotham again. Back in her death-shroud alleyways, fighting someone bigger than him. But there’s no Jason to watch his back, and Danny has to get himself out of there alone. Or he might just not get up at all.

Black eyes, busted lips. It’s familiar to him like an old scent, Danny isn’t quite sure that he’s missed it. It’s more familiar than his fights with Dash.

But there’s no one else who can do it but him. Not Sam, not Tucker. He can’t lose them too. He can’t. He can’t. He can’t. His heart can’t take another break, he already feels like he’s going insane.

With no threat of death, Danny’s enemies fight like death themself. He learns why when Technus puts a street sign through his stomach one day. It pins him to the asphalt like a moth pinned by its wings.

Danny claws at the metal like how an animal caught in a trap chews off its leg, and every move is blinding pain. He thinks he was howling, but it’s hard to tell. He couldn’t recognize the sound of his voice.

He bleeds green. It mixes in black with the pitch blackhole in his heart, which throbs and twists and cries in time with his reckless panic. The finger-choking terror of dying again strangles out the air he doesn’t need. His blood evaporates, only to reabsorb into him. It just bleeds out again, cycling like a snake eating its own tail.

Danny breaks his nails clawing at the metal, and eventually gets it in his mind to pull it out. So he does, and the end drips ectoplasm green as he gets to his feet. In red-vision, Danny sends the sign back with snarling, vicious fervor. The pain is irrelevant in his rage.

Only after the fight does the hole the pole left start to close. Danny doesn’t shift human until it’s gone. Unlike other injuries, a scar stays behind. Ugly; mottled, it aches for a week with every twist and stretch his body makes. He hates it.

Being dead is agony.

Every part of him is in pain. Every step, every word he speaks, everything he does, it is prerequisite with pain. The body is temporary, but the soul is forever, and death has carved into it with its freezing green hands and left him with never-ending heartache. It has torn from him and stolen what of him it could, and in return it’s left him with sorrow.

His pain is his grief, and he’s sobbed in the safety of his room more times than he can count. It’s still as fresh as the day he heard the news of Jason’s death. He knows, instinctively, that it will stay fresh forever.

In his room, Danny shoves his hands over his mouth and shrieks in whatever, muffled way he can into his pillow. It’s not enough. It’s never enough. He needs to be louder. He needs to be heard. He refuses to be.

Being dead hurts.