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October 25, 2008, 5:44 am

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Masos of the Silt


"He was a strong force of nature, long ago. He and his brethren tended the land, ensuring that it was rich and fertile for the turning of spring, reclaiming the nutrients the land had divested come the autumn. Perhaps he became jealous, or greedy, or merely went mad; regardless, he fell from glory when he hardened the earth, refusing to let plants take hold and obscure the soil. His brethren cast him out, certain he would wander until the end of time amid the myriad realms."


Masos began his existence as an elemental creature, an entity of the fertile soil and the sturdy earth, and he still echoes this origin to some degree; his body is comprised of large portions of stone amid a mass of fine silt; his shape is generally mutable, but he generally prefer an amorphous form, with the silt spilling ahead as the rocky portions tumble over one another. Given cause, such as intruders in his Realm seeking him out, he will shape himself to an inert mound of stone to observe them for a time, and then suddenly explode into motion, his form assembling into a massive humanoid, a titan of stone and silt. He might almost be mistaken as a powerful elemental, had his ascenion to control over his own lesser Nether Realm not worked a subtle transformation upon him. The shards of stone which serve him as eyes glow with a baleful white light when active, and when he speaks his voice carries the dry rasp of the dying traveler is the forsaken wastes, a harsh sound that seems to scrape the ears and drive away the moisture in one’s body simply to hear it.


Earth elemental; became envious of the beauty of the plants, sought to bring such beauty to stone and earth, ended up exiled for not letting plants grow as intended, since it would obscure and corrupt his artistic efforts. Laid claim to a minor Celestial Realm; sank slightly to become a minor Nether Realm, but is close to being a Middle Realm due to the artistry of his efforts. Dislikes Soreen’s focus on death, but appreciates his artistry. Hates Muras, as artistry means nothing if all die before seeing it. Artistic, but calm and patient. Willing to listen to suggestions from other artistically-minded types.

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Random Idea Seed View All Idea Seeds

Which way is he going?

       By: Murometz

Molk Peruda is encountered by the PCs on the second day of their journey west from the salt-choked port of Quyn, as they prepare to explore the jungle.

He appears a gaunt, wolfish man, with matted, dark hair that sprouts from his head in dreadlocks, contrasting with his well-oiled, blue-black, conical beard. His eyes are hidden ebon shards beneath thick arching brows, his nose, crooked, long, and reminiscent of a snout. His mouth is a thin, dark line, his teeth unseen even when he parts his lips to speak.

His skin is the color of tallow, surprising perhaps for a renowned jungle guide, yet his natural helm of dreads and the jungle's canopy keeps the sun from bronzing his originally pale flesh. On his back are tattooed three women from the waist up, side-by-side, each resembling the other but of different ages. This is a tattoo of Molk's mother, sister, and daughter. His wife (don't bring her up to him!) was killed by marauding Qullan years ago, and appears as her own tattoo on his broad but sunken chest.

His feet shockingly are turned around 180 degrees at the ankle, facing towards his back! A curse from a pernicious shaman. Molk walks feet backwards (he's used to it) and walks backwards, forwards. This can be very disconcerting and outright creepy to the PCs as he guides them through the rainforest.

Slung from his back is an archer's quarrel of treated wood carved to resemble a stalking leopard, in his hand a re-curved composite bow of horn and sinew, with a pair of vivid, red eyes, each one painted on the opposite side of the hand-grip. In a leather sheath at his belt, hangs a falchion, its pommel adorned with a curved bird's head and beak.

Encounter  ( Forest/ Jungle ) | January 15, 2014 | View | UpVote 8xp

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