Each new home prides itself on its idol and as each new home receives its idol, the power within them grows, glows and connects. ...They are the bringers of wonderment and gifts but little do the townsfolk know, for the Shithiran are the takers of everything.
Destroyer of Dynasties, Killer of Kings, Bane of Broods, Curse of the Ruling Elite!
It is a personal journal tucked away in an library. It appears as an ordinary journal or diary from the outside and inside. In the spine or binding there is always a tiny strip of metal that other components and symbols are attached. Yet there is more, if you read carefully.
“It is your move.”
Being alligned with Evil does tend to make the afterlife a little less appealing. Unless one can somehow claw their way up the heirarchy immediately, one should be looking towards a long, long, long, time of torture and servitude to greater spirits, before any chance of reincarnation will occur. One of the first things Smart Evil Cultists and Priests learn is how to avoid final death.
Note From MoonHunter: I finally found the one piece we have been missing from the Garage Sale from Hell thread this entire time. A magic item that every covert Evil Cultist and Demon worshiper must have… a lucky piece.
The ring was an item he was always wearing; innocuous enough that no one would question it. It became his perfect tool of power.
It is a popular view amongst magic-users, that most members of the Cult of Malidon are just bitter people, blaming magic for their private losses and defeats, often seeking to silence some other qualms with burning witches. For one low cultist at least, this view is completely wrong…
Idea from the Aeneid. Could make an intriguing encounter when searching for firewood..."Quite near there happened to be a mound of earth, at the highest part of which were growing thickets of cornel and a dense cluster of spiky myrtle-stems. I went up there and tried to wrench the green growth from the ground to provide a leafy covering for our altar. There I was confronted by a horrible and astounding miracle. For from the first bush which I tried to break off...blood oozed in dark drops, fouling the earth with its spots...A piteous moan came from the base of the mound and I heard a human voice answering me: 'Why, Aeneas, must you rend a poor sufferer? I am buried here...for I am Polydorus. Here death overpowered me in a crop of piercing iron-pointed spears. And so a crop resembling javelins has grown over me...'"