I had all these ideas ready, but fate would have it that after reading Hisa, now would work. It was like throwing a cleric into one of Muro's games, it all looked so sturdy on paper, but chance leads to their demise... mmmmm
What I would like to know, at least in this sub, is just HOW one's spirit is turned into a demon, and it seems rather relevant. And while I agree that them all being mortal, or an collection of fragments of souls, would be neat, I think that them not all being humanoid, or even "intelligent" would be interesting. Velce, the Sorrow of the Hunt, a massive tiger with paws the size of a dwarf's chest....
What purpose do you want them to serve? Are they merely there, waiting expectantly for Random Evil Baddies (REBs) to summon them, or do they actively strive to advance their own personal agendas in the world, and how do they deal with eachother when said purposes are not in agreement?
Crafted outta the finest ironwood, and ensorcelled to withstand the greatest blows, this seat just begs to be sat on. Given a crude intelligence one day by a drunken mage, this stool rages against it's sedentary existance and seeks to create excitement, of any kind. In addition to it's rather mundane ability to take the weight of even the heaviest and toughest adventurers, this stool also can project it's feelings and thoughts into the minds of those around it, gaining more and more power as those around it become increasingly inebriated.
Pretty soon it'll be "slipping" on the booze wet floor and causing people to trip around it, and when they fall it'll project into them to make them even more angry, hoping to stir up a nice and simple brawl. However, if you manage to ply the seat with a few drinks, it'll soon turn into a blubbering wreck and tell you its life story... "I wanted to be a sword when I grew up, but NOOOO, that wizard had to make me into a stool."
- Nigh Unbreakable
- Mildly Intelligent
- Slightly Animate Go to Comment
Said to be made in hidden stills deep in the mountain caves, with equal parts blood and corn, it isn't in fact the alchohol in these bottles that make this brew famous, but the bottles themselves. Through some perverse magics, these bottles have been made so that, if they are broken in the hand's of a sentient, they cannot be dropped unless if the lifeblood of a sentient has been spilled.
Needless to say these brews are banned in any sane city, village, hamlet, thorp, or metropolis, but lone bottles have their way of finding themselves being served under other names, and with different tastes. Go to Comment
Rather, but the recoil on the Tommygun was rather bad too. One could only assume, the vaguely cyberpunk-ness of most near-future settings, that advances had been made in artifical limbs and the like to allow more tolerance in the human arm for getting kicked by a mule some ten times in half a second. Go to Comment