- Location
- Brittany, France
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Thank you, that was exactly what I was looking for.
General Exalted Thread
Ghosts of people who died from being twisted by the Wyld or were tainted by the Wyld after their death.
Dark Souls' Black Knights complete with demon killing.
Cenzurazka, the Iconophobic Swarm
Demon of the First Circle
Progeny of the Enforcer of Thought
There is nothing in all the realms of existence that terrifies the cenzurazka more than an image. The ten thousand tiny biting insects that make up the fog-like mist of its body tremble in fear to see a statue, a tapestry or a drawing. Such fear gives birth to hatred, and from hatred comes a bitter and cold rage. Only non-representative art avoids their ire.
When an iconophobic swarm sees that which it hates, it throws itself at its bane with a terrible ferocity. The insects that make up the swarm have many different kinds of mouth - some have probosces for slurping up ink, some grinding jaws for wearing away paint, and some chisel-mouths for chipping away at stone. A great clamour of wings marks a swarm at work, and when they have finished their work, they leave unravelled tapestries, faceless statues and bare canvas.
In Malfeas, these demons are not forced into discrete clumps. Instead, they form vast clouds that exist on the scale of weather systems. Moving across the landscape like locusts, they desecrate artwork and profane statues. When they pass through a bazaar, the signs and the pictures are stripped bare. For that reason the merchants and traders of the Demon City hate these creatures and hate Meldu for making them. The Enforcer of Thought cares not, for he made them to honour an Immaculate monk he once met with a most admirable fervour for destroying any books of representative art - and who once even demolished an inn for the offence of having a painted sign outside.
Summoning: (Obscurity 3/5): Perhaps unsurprisingly, the cenzurakas are a little used demon. Most sorcerers are fond of their books and calling on one of these demons puts them at risk. As a result, when they call on them they make sure to do it far away from anything they care about. A cenzurazka takes a point of Limit for each action that they are forced to remain in the presence of representative art without acting to destroy it. They can squirm forth into Creation when a merchant puts up false signs that make promises he does not intend to keep, and his deceived clients take it on themselves to burn the art and the merchant alike.
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- Location
- The sixth circle of Hell (second on weekends)
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Ooo! Also also! Plot-hook style writeups - that is; not full writeups, just a paragraph or two on each - of three Celestial Exalt yidak. The kind that aren't generic "breeds" of lesser ghost, or even potent "Underworld Dragons". The kind that are unique themed horrors with names that are known and feared in the Underworld; each as powerful as a Deathlord in its own right.
Sucal
The Devil’s Cut
- Location
- Bottom of the barrel
Not sure if you've done anything like it already, but a Ghost or Demon that a sorcerer or necromancer would use to keep their beers cold and their food hot !
A bomb-pumped gamma ray laser, as a First Circle Demon. Blow itself up (and presumably reforms, immaterial) to shoot deadly radiation at people.
Godzillaslayer10
I am ready for this quest!
- Location
- Somewhere
Forgive me, but I was never able to get into Exalted due to a lack of playerbase near me. However, that never stopped me from loving the setting especially the Demons. My question is thus. Is there a First Circle Demon that essentially acts as a Get Hype broadcast for the Exalted's soldiers? Something similar to a Waagh Tower from 40k perhaps? If so would that demon be Isidoros or Malfeas'
The Ruins of the Monastery at El-Galabi
Demesne: Solar 2, Necrotic 2
Three hundred years ago, a holy man was chosen by the Sun. His virtues were unquestionable; his wisdom without doubt. He built a great monastery in the Fire Mountains not too far from Gem in a most sacred place, and golden-robed students thronged the cool halls. It was a place of peace, learning, and instruction.
Then everything changed when the Scarlet Empire attacked.
Any delusions that the Dragonblooded could not reach this secret place high in the Fire Mountains were cruelly broken. El-Galabi was razed, the initiates slain, and the holy man's skull was smashed on his sacred cobbles. He did not take it well. His wailing hungry ghost rose from the grave, along with many of his followers and that night they feasted. The hordes of the Dead were more than the Realm could repulse, and all they could do was ring the ruins with salt and leave the mountaintop temple to be forgotten. No men come to El-Galabi these days. Sun-bleached bones are stacked like firewood in the dry fountains, gnawed by monstrous mouths, and the sandstone buildings are scored where yidaks have sharpened their claws. The stone walls that the Realm built around the ruins still stand strong, and the interior is packed with salt. It is the only thing containing the monsters.
The light is wrong here. Sunlight and flame are too bright, producing stark and harsh illumination, while shadows have no penumbra - only inky blackness. One can walk from a street that is lit like midday into a ruined building which is utterly lightless. The yidaks lurk in these dark places in the day, and one who prizes the sanctity of their body will stay outside. When the sun has set, the entire city is a deathtrap.
Essence tokens can be collected from this place. They take the form of butterflies and other winged insects, whose substance is inky black and who glow like fireflies. These flitting sprites lurk in the basement of the ruined temple which was once the central manse of this temple complex. Safely harvesting them is left as an exercise to the reader.
The Holy Man of El-Galabi
Yidak Lord
Dead By Violence
The holy man who built this temple complex was a righteous and temperate man. Ah, but he knew the kiss of temptation well, and he fought to hold back his hidden urges. In life he seldom broke - and was deeply ashamed of those times when he locked himself away and drank himself into a stupor - but in death his po soul is unchecked by his will. The monster revels in everything he denied himself in life, only to stumble into the shadows and claw his skin from his back in self-flagellation.
Bloated by power, this yidak is a peer to a weak Lord of Death. His repressed urges have led him to swell into immensity - thrice the height of an adult man. He is naked, for the soldiers of the Dragonblooded stripped his corpse, though his long wispy bloodsoaked beard provides some modesty. His dried skin is stretched taut over his bones, but his mouth has swollen into immensity and needle-teeth as long as swords fold out like a snake's fangs. There are three elbows in his over-long ape-like arms, and a third eye sits in his forehead, weeping black tears. His uncut toenails click against the stone, giving some warning of his approach.
The power of the holy man suffuses this temple he gave his life for, and his mad urges suffuse the landscape. During the night, the landscape takes a different shape - one wrought from the impulses and urges of a mad ghost. All the proportions in the strangely reconstructed buildings are off and the other hungry ghosts in the landscape are forced to move like puppets, twisted to stand upright like men. They scream and gibber in a mockery of prayer and this pleases the po for all things are as they should be. Within the temple there are many good things and luxuries he secretly desired, but should a thief taste the wine or eat the meat they will find it laden with maggots and rot.
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The Village By The Sea
Demesne: Kimbery 2
You've probably heard this story before. There's a village, right - one of those little coastal villages where they rely totally on what they can catch. It happens in the North where they hunt whales and it happens in the West where they harpoon squid and it happens among the sea-silk divers in the South. If the fish don't bite, they starve. And the fish don't bite. The children grow sick. Men die at sea desperately trying to catch what they can. They start sacrificing men to the gods to try to lure back the fish. Nothing works.
Then something washes ashore. Something they've never seen before. Something big and meaty. Maybe it has a strange iridescent shell. Maybe it's a whale with tentacles in place of its mouth. Maybe it's just an entire pod of dolphins which have the eyes of men. The thing is riddled with parasites, but these are coastal villagers, and they're starving. They don't care. They eat the flesh, they drink the blood, they harvest the bones and the shell and they thank the sea-god that sacrificed itself for them so they might live.
And as sure as day follows night, the villagers start to change. The children are born strange, marked by the sea god that gave its life for them. People who sleep in houses where they keep the bones of the creature dream of the deep ocean, watching unnamed things swim by. And usually about this point there's a fight and the ones who still follow the old gods try to purge the new followers of the sea god. Sometimes they win, and the village gets abandoned. But when the sea god's followers win, then there's a massacre and there's blood offered to the new gods and things just get more and more weird. The landscape starts to rearrange itself into an occult sigil. It brands itself on the flesh of the followers of the sea god. The parasites from the sea god start living inside the villagers and they hear their whispers and rejoice because of it. Maybe there are even other things living in the sea that say they're from the sea god - only she's really a goddess - and they take the villagers as brides and husbands and from their union are born hybrids.
Then sometimes sorcerers from the Heptagram or priests of the Immaculate Order arrive.
It's better for the villagers if it's the priests.
They'll only kill them.
The essence tokens of the demense take the form of the parasites that squirm in the sea god and in the villagers who give their adoration to the Great Mother. These pale, eyeless creatures infuse their hosts with the essence of Kimbery, corrupting the substance of Creation with her maleficent maternal love. There are many occult uses for them, and sorcerers given to darker magics seek them out. Of course, it proves necessary to remove the parasites from their host, and this is invariably lethal in cases when the victim has been sufficiently changed by the Demon Sea.
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Walker of the Yellow Path
Ho There!
- Location
- The Land of Memes
Necromancers who bind ghosts to their flesh to steal their skills and powers.
The City of Lost Demons
Manse: Malfeas 3
When the Demon King Malfeas slams two of his levels together to rid himself of a troublesome itch, the ruin and devastation is titanic. The rubble of the crushed buildings litter Cecelyne and sink into the depths of Kimbery. Sometimes the detritus of the King's pain travels further than others, and occasionally a city block or two will be hurled for five days and fall from the skies of Creation. Crashing down as a meteor, the dense materials of the Demon Realm sink through Creation's surface deep underground. The demons who survive this are trapped in Creation, in the underground ruins of a few Malfean blocks. Creaton rejects them and magma bleeds through around the buildings, while traces of Ligier's flame flicker in the braziers and furnaces of the lost city.
One such fragment of Malfeas' skin landed in the deserts beyond the Great Scar a hundred miles from Gem around 200 years ago, and the City of Lost Demons lies at the bottom of a glassy canyon. It is a mighty fortress of black splintered basalt, with a moat of lava only crossable by perilous thin metal bridges. Once it was part of the flesh of Hidrae, the Scar of Empires, and hence it survived its passage through the skies of Cecelyne better than many. Magma coats the exterior walls and drains through what were once windows. Within the halls smith-demons take ore mined by slaves to try to patch up holes and prevent the collapse of this fragment of the Demon Realm. Demonic warbands roam forth from the city to hunt for unfortunate travellers and the desert tribes to drag back to this underground place of magma and back-breaking labour.
The lord of this enclave is Yulak, a once-blood ape sublimatus with the horns and legs of a mountain goat. From his throne in the heartstone room he ponders the green-flame of Ligier trapped there, and considers how best to keep the fire of the prince of the Yozis alive. As long as the fire burns, his rule here is unquestioned, for he has learned the forbidden arts of sorcery and can draw on its power to cast down his foes. The worship of human slaves feeds it, as does the sacrifice of his rivals, but it slowly fades - and every time he uses it for sorcery, it grows dimmer. He needs more mortal slaves - or else a powerful ally who might be able to fan the fires. His vizier whispers to him, speaking of blasphemous rituals that might be able to open a gate to Hell where they could gather more of Ligier's fire - but Yulak fears to return to that place. He hides his sickness, too, for the flame has given him a slow-acting case of Green Sun Wasting that even his mighty flesh cannot overcome.
The hearthstones of this manse take the form of flames taken from the central fire. They burn without consuming fuel for as long as they last, but they radiate their power and one who holds them too long or draws too deeply on their stands risks catching Green Sun Wasting.
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- Location
- Canada
an FCD that's designed to be an actor and camera-man, and wether on their own, with others of their kind, or surrounded by unsuspecting innocents, they constantly act out and film horror movies, and are equally suited to the part of monster, victim, or terrified bystander.
- Location
- Virginia
A damaged Solar manse, buried under a city that's forgotten its existence.
A Solar manse that was (is?) a hospital, used during the Contagion.
(These could be the same manse.)
A Solar manse that was (is?) a hospital, used during the Contagion.
(These could be the same manse.)
- Location
- Wörms, the half continent
A lunar manse that was used for the construction of behemoths until the lunar died.
- Location
- England
FCD - a delicious meal that will drain you from the inside, puppet your body for a while, force you to make another meal vessel for itself. the leave you alive afterwards hungrier than before.
Infernal manse - Built to hide the effects of infernal essence tainting the land, succeeded hilariously.
Infernal manse - Built to hide the effects of infernal essence tainting the land, succeeded hilariously.
- Location
- The Pagoda of Masks
FCD - the gothiest demon descended from the ebon dragon that writes/performs poetry and macabre theater to immortalize instances of futility in the face of overwhelming power. Has side gigs writing propaganda for demonic warlords and sorcerers in creation that hypes up their victories (Octavian has warehouses FULL of these guys).
Man, it's still worth clearing for the lore, but Jesus Christ, City of Lost Demons is more frustrating than any area I've played since my first run through Sen's Fortress. Seriously, it starts with "the rafter segment of Anor Londo, except longer and with lava" and then turns into "Castle of the Old Iron King, except it's too dark to see shit." And whoever came up with the boss is bad and should feel bad - massive AoE flame attacks should not also cause rapid toxic buildup, and a boss who can do THAT should not also be a giant gorilla-goat that hits like the Smelter Demon.
Plus the loot is just kinda shit - the Green Sun Ember is admittedly a decent pyromancy flame in PVP, although the toxin buildup from holding it makes it inconvenient for single player. But the normal enemies don't really have any drops worth farming for, and the Demon-slave Tatters aren't even good for Fashion Souls.
Revlid
blob of bugs
- Location
- England
"Blasphemous murderers! Blood crazed fiends. Atonement for the wretches… by the wrath of mother Kimbery. Mercy for the poor wizened child, mercy. Oh please, atonement for the wretches. Lay the curse of blood upon them, and their children, and their children's children for evermore. Each wretched birth will plunge each child into a lifetime of misery… Mercy… For the poor wizened child… Let the pungence of Kimbery, cling like a mother's devotion."
The Forgotten Pyramid of Anamra
Manse: Solar 5
Men have forgotten that once the deserts to the east of Gem were a carefully irrigated landscape, rich with life. The great river Anam ran through these now dry lands, carrying rainfall from the mountains. There were villages and towns and carefully engineered farmlands where wheat and cotton and peaches and other fine things were grown. Second greatest of the cities on this plain was Anamra, where silver was as common as brass and where they could spin silk from flames. The lords of Anamra wrought great magics upon this place, and though the lords were cast down by their servants the new rulers sought to maintain their power.
Alas, then came plague and the princes of chaos and all the careful irrigation systems and pacts with weather spirits became as nought. Searing flame in the hands of the Scarlet Empress burned the madness twisted land to sand and all that was left was trackless desert spotted with oases where a trace of the old magic held true.
Built on a stony plateau that rises above the sands, the town of Namala knows that once giants lived under their town. Wind-worn faces of forgotten faceless kings glare out from the cliffsides. It was the giants who made sure that water flowed from the rock and let the water-lords of Namala maintain their despotic rule. Those who displease them are not permitted to sup from the water, and are cast out into the wastes where only shiftless bandits dwell, desperately seeking transient oases or the blood of animals. But the proud water-lords know nothing of the great pyramid that they have built their power upon, despite the fact their vaunted water is but a spillage from broken pipes. The sand and rubble choked the holy places and all is lost.
And perhaps that is the best, for Anamra was a place of sacred healing and care, enabled by its wealth. When the Great Contagion came, the walking dead came to Anamra seeking respite and merely brought death with them. Even the greatest power of the great pyramid could not cure them, but it could prevent them from dying as long as endings were not permitted to flow into their chambers. The sick were packed into the holy place, until it was full and there they lay, eternally dying of the Contagion but never quite dead. The lords of Anamra knew what they wrought when they built a place where sickness and age never led to an ending, but they were long since murdered. In the end, the sick walked out of the pyramid to die - or else took their own lives and the lives of others, to escape their torment.
But decay had no hold over Anamra and so that is what packs the lost pyramid to this day - more than a thousand freshly dead corpses, slain by violence to escape the Contagion. Should one breach the doors to the pyramid, there will be an ending and that will take a rapid toll long denied. But before that happens, an explorer might notice as they delve deeper into this charnel house of healing that many of the bodies have been gnawed upon and some are but bare bone, broken open for the marrow. What manner of survivor might lurk in the sealed chambers, trapped here for seven hundred years of agony? What might such a madman know, before the passage of years claims him?
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Sunlight Ronin
Servant of the Sun
Deity of the Fifth Rank
In the great war against demonkind, the Chosen did not fight alone. The cataphractoi of the Sun were his bosom companions and the first Solars' tutors in the arts of war - as far above the celestial lions as a celestial lion is above a common lion dog. They were lancers beyond compare, riding the sun's rays, but their martial skills were second to their virtues. Only the most worthy divinities were accepted to the ranks of the cataphractoi; they could endure any pain, brave any foe, hold to their oaths in the face of all adversity and they knew to sheath their weapons when the time came. They braved the very limits of the geas, willingly engaging the demon princes and with spears of holy light they slew countless demon legions.
To the Principle of Hierarchy, such actions were intolerable. Colourless fire fell from the heavens and many of the gods were erased from existence. So died many of the most virtuous divinities, leaving only a few scattered survivors such as one who would later become the Golden Lord of An Teng, and perhaps many of the wicked things that later happened in An Teng were born of such a winnowing. Their shining orichalcum armour was left to fall in the dirt and it fell into the earth, down into dark places which had never known light. And in the darkness, the sun gleamed.
The gods were unmade, but their armour was the armour of heroes and the least gods had learned from their wearers as a child might learn at the knee of a parent. The oaths of the sunlight cataphractoi were sworn afresh by the masterless armour-gods and clanking fingers picked up fallen weapons. To the Sun they presented themselves and smiling despite his tears for his lost companions he accepted their service. Many brave deeds and many great actions were carried out by these gods, though they were less virtuous than their predecessors and burned with wrath for their slain masters.
In the long years of peace, there was little need for these armour gods - yet the favour of the Sun meant that they retained high status in the Yu Shan bureaucracy. To the ascendant gods of the new order they were an inconvenience, and this was made worse by their personal friendships with many of the veteran Solars. The armour gods were shunted aside, honoured but sidelined. And then came the dreadful day when the Sun turned his face from Creation and set them free from their oaths, telling them to do as they saw fit.
Since then the sunlight ronin have done that. Some ventured forth to Hell to do battle against the demons once again, and occasionally tales are whispered in the bazaars of Malfeas of figures in lion-faced golden armour. Others fought and fell in the Usurpation - on both sides, for some took the Sun's actions as a condemnation of the rule of the Solars. Yet others marched forth from their sanctums in Creation against the Balorian Crusade, and fought until they were spent. Many descended into the darkness below Creation, to look for more of their fallen kin and hunt and slay forbidden gods for sport. A few still walk Creation; some as champions of the sun, others as bloody butchers lost to conflict
Imrix
Periodically Malevolent QM
A Lunar manse, a doorway visible only under the full moon's light which opens only to rituals lost to time. Once it opened to a settlement from a greater age, nestled within a dreamworld and now forgotten, fallen. What sublime terrors lie within? And where else does the door lead?
- Location
- Library
One of Yozi' Oramus failed attempts at creating new Exalt.
drearyArchon
Chaos Lord Chaos
- Location
- The Floor of Social Sciences
Oramic and TED aspected Manse in Hell