first_mono_recording__1_.m4a | |
File Size: | 8413 kb |
File Type: | m4a |
Connor Jennings
Mook #3: Oh, hey, are you orcus? Huh... well, I got a favor to ask your, evilness. I mean look, I’m sorry to disturb you, I’ve gone to a few others before you. I have been all around the lower planes: the 9 hells, Hades, The Abyss. I heard tales there was a guy that could help me in Hades, but all I could find were a bunch of slugs. The devils were more responsive, but they kept asking for my soul, which, you know, ‘cuz I’m dead, I can’t really hand over because that's, all of me right now. Demigorgan was my next best bet, but I know he’s supposed to have 2 baboon heads or something, and every one I found going by the name “Demigorgan” had only one head, and it certainly wasn’t a baboon. Stuppid material plane cinema. Mr. Skeltal was pretty easy to find, but he’s still recovering his calcium from the skeleton war. Oh, and don’t get me started on Cthulhu. So that leaves you, and you know, at first becoming undead didn’t seem like a great option, but I was looking through the monster manual and revenants are challenge rating 5, which is pretty good; since you’re the Demon Prince of Undeath I figured I’d ask you.
Hmm, yeah, I should probably start from the beginning. You see, I was a member of a small adventuring party, just me and two of my friends. He heard tales of an abandoned dwarven mine, lased with treasure and unmined ore but filled with ghouls. My buddies and I went into these mines, and for a while we were pretty successful. We methodically took out every ghoul we encountered, and we managed to get a decent amount of treasure too. At one point we found a chest, obviously trapped. It was getting late and we decided to rest for the night; there was this huge barrel of dwarvish beer, the good stuff, and my comrades and I decided to have a few mugs. We were just settling in for a long rest when this other group of adventurers entered our camp. We were every kind of hospitable, we shared some food, shared some beer, we even made sure to tell them about the trapped chest. I thought we had made some new friends, thought we might clear the rest of the mines together... they must of thought otherwise. Their fighter spilled our liquor and they proceeded to stand in formation in the back of the room. Before I had time to react their mages spat fire from their hands, lighting our half of the room on fire. And my world burned. All I could see, was fire. All I could feel, was fire. All I could hear, was fire... that and the wails of my slowly dying comrades.
Their rogue was nowhere to be seen and their cleric retreated from sight into a side room. If she had some form hippocratic oath, she smashed it into a million pieces, letting us wither and die and hiding with naught but her cowardice as company. Their warrior, who had been so kind whilst we were merrymaking, baited us with hands outreached as if in friendship, only to toss us back into the inferno. And their mages laughed, with cackles a hag would envy. The agonizing wriggling my comrades bodies doused in flame were reflected in their eyes, and yet they smiled as though their blood had been replaced by pure euphoria. I can see them now, one was tall and gaunt, yet his skin seemed to glow in tandem with the blaze he had unleashed. The other was exceedingly short, from where I lied his skin appeared to be in the early stages of decomposition, as if his very flesh was caving in on the cavity where his soul should of been.
Look, I know that you are generally in favor of that sort of thing, demons being the embodiment of chaotic evil and all, but I beg of you, please, give me a chance at vengeance. Look at you, you sit here, on this throne of power, but what have you done recently? No one fears you anymore, not since you were demeaned into a killable enemy in fourth edition; you fancy yourself as a god and while you may have power you have no influence. And look at me, you know what my name is? Mook #3. Mook #3! Do I even have a last name? Do I? Both of us, we’re nothing. Sure you may be considered a level 30 solo boss and I just have a challenge rating of 1, but in the eyes of adventurers, in the eyes of our common enemy, we’re both just punching bags full of experience points. They may seem to be a boon for you now, another set of hapless agents to unconsciously push the world toward how you see fit, but mark my words, one day they will come for you. Like they came for me. They’ll reach a high enough level, and when they tire of the material plane they’ll get bored, just like they got bored of my comrades company, and they will slaughter you as if you were nothing more than a gnoll.
That is why you must reanimate me. Revenant or Wraith, Wright or Death Knight, it matters not to me as long as revenge is mine. And when revenge is mine, influence will be yours. Do this for me and all those with an intelligence score high enough to comprehend you will fear the Demon Prince of Undeath! Unending death to those that would oppose you! Your face betrays your positive feelings toward this plan, that I can see plainly. Well then, with your unholy blessing I’ll be off. And when I return... I’ll have the world on a pike.
Mook #3 laughs evilly. Exuant.
Mook #3: Oh, hey, are you orcus? Huh... well, I got a favor to ask your, evilness. I mean look, I’m sorry to disturb you, I’ve gone to a few others before you. I have been all around the lower planes: the 9 hells, Hades, The Abyss. I heard tales there was a guy that could help me in Hades, but all I could find were a bunch of slugs. The devils were more responsive, but they kept asking for my soul, which, you know, ‘cuz I’m dead, I can’t really hand over because that's, all of me right now. Demigorgan was my next best bet, but I know he’s supposed to have 2 baboon heads or something, and every one I found going by the name “Demigorgan” had only one head, and it certainly wasn’t a baboon. Stuppid material plane cinema. Mr. Skeltal was pretty easy to find, but he’s still recovering his calcium from the skeleton war. Oh, and don’t get me started on Cthulhu. So that leaves you, and you know, at first becoming undead didn’t seem like a great option, but I was looking through the monster manual and revenants are challenge rating 5, which is pretty good; since you’re the Demon Prince of Undeath I figured I’d ask you.
Hmm, yeah, I should probably start from the beginning. You see, I was a member of a small adventuring party, just me and two of my friends. He heard tales of an abandoned dwarven mine, lased with treasure and unmined ore but filled with ghouls. My buddies and I went into these mines, and for a while we were pretty successful. We methodically took out every ghoul we encountered, and we managed to get a decent amount of treasure too. At one point we found a chest, obviously trapped. It was getting late and we decided to rest for the night; there was this huge barrel of dwarvish beer, the good stuff, and my comrades and I decided to have a few mugs. We were just settling in for a long rest when this other group of adventurers entered our camp. We were every kind of hospitable, we shared some food, shared some beer, we even made sure to tell them about the trapped chest. I thought we had made some new friends, thought we might clear the rest of the mines together... they must of thought otherwise. Their fighter spilled our liquor and they proceeded to stand in formation in the back of the room. Before I had time to react their mages spat fire from their hands, lighting our half of the room on fire. And my world burned. All I could see, was fire. All I could feel, was fire. All I could hear, was fire... that and the wails of my slowly dying comrades.
Their rogue was nowhere to be seen and their cleric retreated from sight into a side room. If she had some form hippocratic oath, she smashed it into a million pieces, letting us wither and die and hiding with naught but her cowardice as company. Their warrior, who had been so kind whilst we were merrymaking, baited us with hands outreached as if in friendship, only to toss us back into the inferno. And their mages laughed, with cackles a hag would envy. The agonizing wriggling my comrades bodies doused in flame were reflected in their eyes, and yet they smiled as though their blood had been replaced by pure euphoria. I can see them now, one was tall and gaunt, yet his skin seemed to glow in tandem with the blaze he had unleashed. The other was exceedingly short, from where I lied his skin appeared to be in the early stages of decomposition, as if his very flesh was caving in on the cavity where his soul should of been.
Look, I know that you are generally in favor of that sort of thing, demons being the embodiment of chaotic evil and all, but I beg of you, please, give me a chance at vengeance. Look at you, you sit here, on this throne of power, but what have you done recently? No one fears you anymore, not since you were demeaned into a killable enemy in fourth edition; you fancy yourself as a god and while you may have power you have no influence. And look at me, you know what my name is? Mook #3. Mook #3! Do I even have a last name? Do I? Both of us, we’re nothing. Sure you may be considered a level 30 solo boss and I just have a challenge rating of 1, but in the eyes of adventurers, in the eyes of our common enemy, we’re both just punching bags full of experience points. They may seem to be a boon for you now, another set of hapless agents to unconsciously push the world toward how you see fit, but mark my words, one day they will come for you. Like they came for me. They’ll reach a high enough level, and when they tire of the material plane they’ll get bored, just like they got bored of my comrades company, and they will slaughter you as if you were nothing more than a gnoll.
That is why you must reanimate me. Revenant or Wraith, Wright or Death Knight, it matters not to me as long as revenge is mine. And when revenge is mine, influence will be yours. Do this for me and all those with an intelligence score high enough to comprehend you will fear the Demon Prince of Undeath! Unending death to those that would oppose you! Your face betrays your positive feelings toward this plan, that I can see plainly. Well then, with your unholy blessing I’ll be off. And when I return... I’ll have the world on a pike.
Mook #3 laughs evilly. Exuant.