rolled 64 = 64

hey /x/ get in here we need your help

rolled 93 = 93

rolled 21 = 21

>>14817442

The Hrumation Magocracy is a place of unfettered magical experimentation, rampant urbanization, and apalling health & safety regulations. As if the immense, hermaphroditic rat monster breeding an army in the sewers was not enough, a pair of particularly foolhardy Magi inflicted a particularly unpleasant fate on one Faust von Faustus. A bitter ex-sergeant of the nightwatch and sick of people mocking his ridiculous name, Faust offered himself for research in the labs of Mileena and Mannfred, a Heartwright and Communer respectively.

Technically speaking, the experiments were a success - they could not only transfer the mind of one being into another, but they had also created a swarm of psycho-reactive beetles.

The tests had not been intended to prove either of these facts, but you apply for grants with what you have.

Faust has since gone on the run, living in the shadier parts of the city where Eternal Captain Sol Ralek's University Square Irregulars cannot find him., lamenting his fate and hiding his composite form under a longcoat and hat.

>>14817420
Oh hey I have a picture of that thing

>rotheat quantifier

Not a picture, but I think that would make an interesting monster.

>>14817835

Hang on, I've done that one before. Let me dig her story out of the rulebook.

The Lost Girls: They say there was the daughter of a woodsman who played with the fairies of the forest. In innocent wonder, shehe told her father about the great trees where the Dryads lived, the grand and ancient oaks at the heart of the forest. The woodsman didn't believe in the Fair Folk, but he believed in good lumber. Into the woods he went, by the noonday sun when the Lords & Ladies were weakest (though he did not know this), and cut down the greatest old oak there. When the little girl returned by twilight, the Fair Folk were enraged by her betrayal, and cursed her; Her father had been a reaper of trees, now she would be a reaper of men.
The Lost Girls look like emaciated, naked girls of about ten, their bodies twisted to resemble dogs on all fours, walking on the knuckles of their claw-fingers and claw-toes, with long tails, nose-less faces with all-white eyes, and grinning, fanged mouths. Lost Girls loathe men, and will rip them to shreds at the merest scent. Adult women they ignore. Young girls, however, they seek to bite and infect with their curse.

>>14817919
fucking weird/creepy, glad I keep a hunting shotgun at the ready while in the woods

>>14817835
It's... adorable.

>Requesting El Chupa Cabra

massive knight

>>14817991
>>kieththompsonart

where we're going, we wont be needing eyes

pic dumping while awaiting writefaggotry

>>14818007
>>14818007

>mfw

>>14817962

Falcat-Ra, Ivory-Chained Eyes, Baron of the Blood-Slick Plateau, Seething Demon of Wrath and Thief of Peace.

Falcat-Ra, like all Nobles of his burning, violent circle is a tall, muscular figure with flesh of basalt and blood of molten iron. His Prime Animus has great, black hooves and the head of a fanged goat, his face a mass of glaring, baleful eyes. He is called the Thief of Peace for suspicion of one's neighbour is his purview. The theft of another man's livestock, the coveting of his wife, the blind paranoia when those close to home cannot be trusted - these things are his pleasure. The seething, slow rage of imagined betrayal, the collapse of friendships and of villages. He loved a mortal goatherd, once, but was rejected, and at his passage the animals become furious, mutated, and violent. Grasses turn to glass near his footfalls and sob in terror when broken.

His other Anima take the shape of a hammer which shatters locks leaving the name of a close friend in the mind of the first person to discover the break-in, a torrent of liquid gold which pours from the mouth of a chosen minion, and a bloody temple to his own glory.

>>14818109
Beautiful

>>14817971

Porcelain Caged Envoy of Nightmare's Palace:

Fear is a diplomat, if that can be believed. Fear, in his vast black palace in its hidden Arcadian Realm, abode of bogeymen, ban-si, and grimteeth. Fear, the whispering voice who breathes on your spine, in the dark places of the night.
The Envoy is his agent to other Realms, the mouthpiece for its masters' words - a beautiful simulacrum of a human with a goat-skull head made from porcelain. Should negotations begin to break down, or the threat of violence loom, cracks begin to appear. Chips and shards fall away; something oil-black and reeking of malice writhes beneath the surface.
It can shatter into a sharp-edged engine of murder, all whirling shards and vile claws - or just a breath of black smoke, which quickly fades.

And maybe then it is dead.
Maybe then it is gone.

You can't know, not for sure.

>>14817981

The common zombie seems, from a theoretical point of view, to be nothing to worry about. It is a slow, mindless thing. Tireless, fearless, stronger than two men, yes - but ultimately, what can it threaten any reasonable warrior? Wait it out, and nature will reclaim the blighted things before long.

But with the rotting dead come plagues. Diseases of man and beast and crop alike. A zombie is a vomiting, infectious curse that lives on even when the threat of the body is passed.
Kill them. Strike them down without mercy. Know that in your lungs and blood and harvest, they live on.

This is a doodle I made with the nightmaretastic scribblertoo thing.

That thing can churn out monsters like it was no bodies business.

>>14818007

>>14818007

"It was huge, sir. Like some vast and hateful mockery of a fish, all teeth and lashing tail. They... by the Paragons, sir they... it skittered around on long, bony spider-legs, wheezing and choking on its own breath, tearing men apart while its demon master cackled from his saddle..."
- Report from the Haukar Reach Massacre, declared Unhistory by the Special Operations Bureau

"Prototype C. Terramorph, unofficially dubbed 'landshark' or 'Mr. Wheezy' by Twilight Guard Soldryn, has proven a resounding success. It sowed chaos and terror in the enemy ranks and provided a rapid method of ingress to the fortress of Haukar by the rider. A second wave of test cases is presently in production, with more stable ambulatory grafts and better breathing apparatus. Requests for 'lightning organs, like the ones in South Sea Eels' have been logged."

- Presiding Surgeon's notes, Flesh-Vat #23, Temple of the Dark Mother

>>14818007
Dear God...they're beautiful.

>>14818098
>>14818291
>>14818326
>>14818328
And here I thought I was just being silly posting that.

>>14818032
(You know what's great to write this stuff to? Kilimanjaro Dark Jazz Ensemble. And Coil, obviously).

Soul Traps are employed a unscrupulous, outcast Necromancers - those rare and debased few who reject their peers' respect and reverence for the mortal soul, and condemn ghosts to amethyst prisons. These devices serve a myriad of ends - power for Necromantic constructs, traps for would-be thieves, and darker purposes still...

Centuries of imprisonment drive all but the most stoic ghost to madness, losing their sense of self to become raving spectral monsters that know only hate and lust for revenge.

And sometimes, their prisons break. It isn't hard to do. It can happen by accident, by the shifting of stones in some long-forgotten lair.
Death comes, then. Blissful, painless oblivion - given freely to those encountered by the broken ghost, in jealous rage of that same peace denied.

>>14818359
They're goddamn Land Sharks, man. There is NOTHING IN THIS WORLD more terrifying.

>>14818404
true

>>14818049

Love's Labours Lost:

They say that one of these birds is born everytime a heart is broken. A patchwork of lost futures, half-real dreams, locked secrets and little deaths, the Labours are potent spies and psychopomps. If you can steal the little copper heart each one owns, it will obey your every command - but the moment you lose its heart, it will eat yours.

>>14818404
What about... JAMAICAN Land Sharks?!?!?!

>>14818370
It was in Year 1320, Season of Mist, that the Collegium Magi consumed itself in a column of magical fire. No amount of research after the fact has been able to determine the cause of the accident or the source of the eldritch flames, but its mark upon the local flora and fauna has been remarkable.

For example, the entire local population of Western Royal Foxes are infected with what appears to be fire that flickers between violent magenta and a deeper violet. The arcane energy consumes the flesh, only to regrow it minutes later. Needless to say the pain of this constant consumption and revivification has driven the animals quite mad and all are extremely dangerous.

While they cannot leave the scorched grounds that surround the Collegium, they do not seem to perish of any natural means; their internal fires simply simply bring them back to their cursed life again.

>>14818460
>peter benchley's creature

>>14818460
Aren't those vulnerable to explosive decompression though?

>>14818520
Well sure, but how many people have compression chambers just lying around?

>>14818146

Of the Twelve Patterns of Magic, none is more feared than the Pattern of the Ebon Night. Magi of this pattern, known as Shadows, are masters of stealth and subterfuge, able to cloak themselves in darkness, silence their steps, or steal memories from your mind.

But this is not why they are feared.

Like all Magi, Shadows can conjure servitors formed from the purview of their Magic - animate, solid shadows, living darknesses that mostly obey their maker. But unlike other Magi, who must call on the aid of a Heartwright to give their constructs minds of their own, many Shadow-constructs seem able to think for themselves from the moment of their creation, as if drawn from some all-knowing, primeval darkness. And yet, they love their masters...

>>14818534
Compression chambers seem to be a natural part of such creature's environment, perhaps as a population control.

Imagine being that guy.

>>14818456

Amazing.

>>14818190

Hadesh-ka, Lady of the Dying Dreams, Poisoner of Sex, Duchess of the Weeping Wound and Stalking Demon of Lust.

Hadesh-ka's Prime Animus is the form of a vast reptilian monster, rheumy eyes staring through cracked cararacts, stinking pus oozing from between dry, brittle scales. But this is not her - the gnawing, hateful insect hiding within is the true form of his Demon; a vast and ugly patchwork of crawling parasites whose dimensions and proportions hurt the mind to witness. It is said the meat of her host will sate hunger for a lifetime, and that the dripping pus cures all illness at the price of becoming a vector for infection.

She hates that which is pure and majestic, which is beautiful and inviolate. She loves those things which pervert and consume - in particular, the spread of sexually transmitted diseases, and even better; those who knowingly spread their sickness. Her obession is this perversion of the sexual act, turning an expression of love and act of procreation into the incubation of her loathesome spawn.

>BINDING amosta

Amosta, the Ebon Hunger, Shadow in the Flame. A mindless brute compared to its kin, Amosta is still a brilliant tactician compared to most mortals, so long as those tactics rely on terror and the relentless apllication of strength. Amosta delights in seeing others flee before him, his terrible blazing aura consuming those who are too slow or too foolish to escape. Few beings can endure the flames long enough to engage the demon in direct combat, and these are soon devoured by Amosta, who has no solid form but is instead demon shaped hole in reality, a void of all consuming hunger that devours anything it touches as his flaming aura burns all to ash.

>>14818614
hey, it's a new one. source?

>>14818631

Welp, there goes any chance of me sleeping tonight.

Or for the rest of the week for that matter.

>>14818684
So old it's new, I'm afraid. Got it from /tg/ a while back.

>>14818631
WTF is that shit O.o

>>14818250

Su-makat, Hateful Grave-Chime, Betrayal-Shattered Sword, Rueful Prince of the Killing Fields, Baron of the Endless Tombs and Seething Demon of Wrath.

The War Animus of Su-makat is a great hound sewn from the flesh of flayed traitors and broken barricades, armoured in the graves of the vainglorious dead.

It patrols the horizon-spanning graves of his domain, glorying in the tally of those men consigned to die in vain by foolish commanders.

Do you still have the beard?

>>14818733
>>14818672
>>14818630
>>14818109

sounds like Exalted

contributan

contributan

Go.

can you do >>14818583 please? I liked it

>>14818791

Try this.

>>14818816
Thats not a monster. That's just Awesome-Cool(tm).

>>14818859
Fine, jeez. It still counts.
Fluff this.

>>14817919

source?

>>14818871
Necron Drizzt?

>>14818915
The Drizz't of Necron, yes.

>>14818631
The photos I have attached with this memo were all taken within the past three weeks; due to the lack of information networks and degredation of urban infrastructure do to continued hostilities we have been successful in suppressing evidence. The cover story of parasitical organisms growing fat due to lack of medical care might not be as untrue as we originally thought. Barring evidence of it being a genetically engineered organism release by an opposing party (a possible but increasingly unlikely scenario) I have a growing suspicion that we are indirectly to blame for this. The creatures bear a remarkable resembalence to our Model 327 assassination bio-implant. While R&D hold strong to their claims that current generation implants cannot suffer malfunctions or failures of this nature, my chats with former research personnel and outside sources reveal that there is still a (uncomfortably large) chance that an incident of this nature has occurred. My speculation based on our current evidence places the most likely cause to be Operative No. 429A, listed as MIA two months ago, undergoing a mutation cascade event due to radiological and/or chemical exposure. He is our only unaccounted for agent with that model of bio-implant. If true, and words get out, we're looking at another Hysein incident, only this time we'll have far more to worry about than a couple of politicians pissed off about dead tourists.

ORIGINAL MONSTER (C) ANONYMOUS 2011, DO NOT STEAL

ITT: The pee is never going to dry.

Nice big beastie for you.

>>14818583
>>14818595
>>14818612
>>14818628
>>14818633
>>14818776
>>14818781
>>14818986
guy here. Now I've taken my flash drive with all my collection of /tg/ images.

Proceeding to dump

>>14818497
this for you

SH-SH-SH-SHAAAARKS

>>14818791
Take a good look at this picture. It's been cropping up on message boards, forums and imageboards in greater frequency since the beginning of this year. As far as we can tell it isn't a BLIT or a basilisk, but it's definitely a form of memetic trigger. The image itself is harmless, crudely made of old sprites and paint programs, the problem is that after a certain number of views it changes. It's not actually an image, but a very small program disguised in an image that activates when a certain number of views are registered. After it activates it shuts down almost immediately, only a few people at most are infected by a single one. Those suffering under its effects unconsciously create and post new versions of the program, so far authorities haven't identified any other effects. Please warn others about this image and report any sightings to the authorities. Thank you.

>>14818757
He does, you know ^^

>>14819000

Typhoon Kites are fortunately rarely seen except in the very worst weather, in storms, hurricanes and typhoons however, they emerge from the depths and engage in what most surviving witnesses describe as strange, cavorting spiral flights consisting of up to twenty Typhoon Kites.

Folklore tells us that the Typhoon Kites are the offspring Kelis of the Wild Winds and Grosi the Deep Dweller, both from the Orlentian pantheon, due to the fact that none of the alleged members of the Orlentian pantheon can be verified in the Five Rituals of Confirmation the College regards their existence as unlikely.

This Image was captured by Maigon Imselle as she executed an emergency extraction from the Schooner Good Hope.

been a while, jabberwock

have drawing of abomination

>>14818583
(Since it was requested and good as any, sorry for the delay, technical issues).

Orchard Wardens:
A strange pack of pseudo-mechanical creatures found high in the mountains, the Wardens resemble some nightmare combination of hound and stag-beetle, and jealously guard an anomalous clearing with tree which bears silver apples. They are rarely violent, trapping trespassers in the toothless expanse of their distended jaws and depositing them outside their idyllic domain. Sometimes those who pass near this place see them - silent and watchful on the mist-shrouded rocks above. There is no consensus on what the apples do - eternal youth, panacea, knowledge, who knows?

>>14819194

Tooth Bags, the lowest of the low on the demonic pecking order.

Punished for the sin of being evil but being lousy at it, the Tooth Bags are virtually immobile creatures whose only form of attack is to awkwardly shuffle up to someone and try to bite them.

Even the most inept combatant should be able to survive encountering them, if you are too weak to kill them, a brisk walk should ensure that you can leave them behind, and while they do have some demonic strength and endurance their tubular bodies are unsuited for battle.

Seething with resentment and bloodlust for their fate the Tooth Bags are desperately trying to attack mortals and hide from their demonic masters.

Tooth Bags are considered delicacies by the demonic palate and mortals find their bodies a rich source of reagents and material components.

>>14819055
We didn't know what was happening at first. The sky just went...wrong and the buildings started to break. They were so large they had their own gravity fields; so large we couldn't tell what they were until we saw ones further on the horizon. We were on the water, testing a submarine we built for our engineering project, too far away to find out any news or information. Then the ships opened up and we dived, terrified at what might happen. We stayed down for two hours, until the air was about to run out. When we surfaced the ships had moved on, sliding across the air. The city was fine except for the damage from the ship's gravity. When we dived there were millions of people living there, now it's just us four.

Just so you know, I skip over some because A) They don't grab me by my creative balls, or B) another anon has done it better.

>>14818586

Shurdat-urma, Avenger-Prince of Hell, Lady of the Flaying Wind, Destroyer of Kings, Doom of the Wicked Tyrant, Thrice-Penitent Killer, Blood-Drowned City.

Shurdat-urma, in her Prime Animus, is an angelic figure with wings of fire, garbed in impenetrable armour, her arms tipped with blades forged of pure rage. It is deepest blasphemy to call her an angel, however, for in Hell name belongs only to the Silent Ones, the Angels of Pandemonium.

Shurdat-urma is the vengeance of the downtrodden; the righteous fury and cries for justice by peasants, slaves, and servants. Rebellion and the toppling of a wicked lord by bloodshed and force please her immensely. She is, among the Eight Princes of the Circle of Scouring Flame, Third Circle of Hell, the embodiment of Retribution; the Vengeance of Justice.

>>14819389

As you should. I'd rather have a few good ones than a lot of average ones. And if you run out of material you can always go up for more. BTW I archived this thread on suptg, so if you have more of these from other times you should compile them here. Maybe somebody can make a little monster manual pdf of your work.. :)

>>14818612
Despair – The Empty-Eyed Prince, Dreamslayer, That Which Calls to Despair
He has many names, and his cursed blade forged from the regrets of addicts has perhaps as many. How does one speak safely of this Arcadian Prince? His faceless gaze peers from the spaces where memory should be, seeking your hopelessness, your guilt, your pain. Blood trails in his wake – his own, and that of others. Addiction, misery, agony, torture, all fuel him. Once wrapped in barbed chains in penance for his crimes, his shadowy wings bleed eternally from wounds torn when he broke free. But penitence is in his nature, now. They say if one can find his favour, he will purge them of their sins, reforge them as better men in the crucible of suffering…

>>14819001
Let me explain something to you. It's not going to work out like you plan or hope. I don't care what you have read or what others have told you. It is going to be nothing like you want or expect. There will be no impossibly gorgeous and slutty, yet down to earth succubi or suave, debonair guys with horns and wings. They might not have physical forms at all. Assuming that they do you can expect gibbering bags of organs that communicate by rearrainging your memories or humanoid forms made of bits and pieces of trash given life. Forget being granted knowledge, power or boons. You can't reason with them; they're like trying to communicate with a schizophrenic on PCP. At worst they'll hate you just because they can. The kind of hate that breeds subtlety and endless malevolence. Your words and sigils will not hold them forever and they have no masters save their own alien whims and desires.

>>14818631
What the fuck nature.

WHAT THE FUCK.

>>14818633
Spider-Priests:

Mystery is the Lord of Spiders, for spiders see all and tell little. Nothing happens that Mystery does not see through the eyes of his beloved. Those mortals who come into his service are touched by the magic of Faerie to become creatures of shadow, secrecy, and silk. Spider-priests are those mortals who worship Mystery in his aspect as Silken Prince, taken on the patience and horror of arachnids to further their goals and those of their master. The spider-priests and the immense spiders they bind as familiars are among Mystery's most powerful soldiers, and the reason no other Fae dares to plunder his domain for secrets.

>>14819459
I'm hoping you know that's fake.

>>14819413
What a wonderful complexion you have. I just can't get enough of olive colored skin.

>>14819459

It's not real

ahhhh giger close to 50 years worth of nightmare fuel has come from his twisted mind

>>14818734
Get out of here, Malzahar. This is not a League of Legends thread. What are you even doing on /tg/ you should be on /v/idya.

>>14818778
The Arcadian Realms are a vast collection of bubbles - pocket dimensions that drift slowly across some interstitial place between worlds, only sometimes in alignment with passages to the mortal realm.
If a Faerie is foolish enough to be cut off from return to a Domain, they are left with few options to survive in this Land of Iron. Some become Dryads, fusing their essence with a tree, taking semi-corporeal form, and embracing Aspects of Nature, Forests, Fertility, Lust, Rebirth, and so on. Dryad Matriarchs are among the most powerful, either through the rare effort of personal growth once locked into a permanent shape, or by being puissant Fae even before their shackling to the material world. Noble, beautiful, alluring Spirits of primal lust, growth, birth, death and passion, the feminine counterweight to Ogres.Dryads can be quite amicable to outsiders, very friendly, even. But when approached with violence, they can almost outdo Ogres for fury, stripping the flesh from hapless humans with lashing thorny whips and claws.

>>14818614
1

>>14819440

The Horseless Headsman (as some five bit bard named him in a shoddy tavern two centuries back), is one of the last operative remnants of the kingdom of Davenn.

In life, the Horseless Headsman was the Chief Executioner of mad king Thalmon VII, apparently uncaring or unconcerned with the kings dwindling mental faculties, he was richly rewarded for his loyalty, in gold, in women and in his infamous armor and executioners axe that he still carries.

In the Fall of Davenn and the rise of the Usurper Princes, the Headsman was at long last caught by a mob of peasants and burned alive. According to the priests of Nolird, God of Justice, the divine judge was displeased with the fact that a supposed judicial enforcer had been that uncaring and greedy and damned him to existence as a ghost.

The only way he can find rest from his existence is when he have repaid his crimes with good deeds tenfold, of course being disinclined to altruism by his nature the Horseless Headsman can still be found wandering the Republic looking for ways to redeem himself.

>>14819487
What we have hear is your basic Neo-God, "inheritor of the future," bullshit. This one is active in Russia; born out of nuclear fire and the souls of dissidents used in atomic tests. It's got about a half dozen names, none of which are really memorable. Our mission is to hit it with cryobombs until the exoskeleton hardens then pummel it with shit-ton of artillery. Once the shell is breached it should burn itself out in about an hour.

>>14819612
2

well here is a Eldridge horror for ya!

Alright guys, it's 8AM and I have some errands to do in the afternoon. So, I'm going to sleep now - but I shall return and try to work with some of the stuff already posted, and anything used to bump the thread until my return.

Other writefags seriously encouraged, especially those who can work with sci-fi or modern - I'm just not in that headspace right now.

Commentary on fluff thus far is always welcome.

>>14819689

"Martin, i need a favor" the voice gurgled horribly.
Turning i saw a large misshapen blob of flesh, that was leaving oozing stains on my favorite sofa.
"Are we acquainted, Mr....?" i inquired.
"Its Bob, Martin, the seance went wrong."
"Robert? Robert Eldridge? I told you you should be more careful when summoning an entity known as the Unbecoming of Flesh..... Very well, lets get Harry and Theodominus over here and see if we can extort some help from the Ancients."

>>14819670
"Fuckin' Masklight Brigade. I try to bring in one ghost and they're all 'Waaaaa, you're an evil life-supremacist, lets get him.' Yeah, I don't like a ghost as much as the next guy but this asshole has a warrant out for six counts of unlicensed poltergeist activity. Let me do my fucking job and you won't be picking lead out of your ectoplasm."

>>14819612
"Damnit Frank, I told you if pissed in the shower again I'd shoot you. Don't bitch at me about it; we both know I could drop a piano on you and it wouldn't hurt. I'm just letting off some steam."

Hail to the King baby

>>14819857
"Aww, look at you. My baby's all grown up and ready to slaughter his first village. You've got your armor on nice and tight? You don't want it coming loose fighting any heroes."

"I know Mom, it's fine. Everything's fine, just let me get to work."

"Remember to kill all the children too. You don't want any of them growing up to avenge their families."

"I'm not an idiot Mom, it's the first thing they teach you at---Stop messing with my armor, I put it on correctly you don't need to do anything."

"Oooo, lets get a picture of you and me. You look so handsome out on your first day of marauding. I'll send a copy to your aunt and sister and your cousin and his wife. You know their boy just looks up to you so much."

"How about I just stab myself and save me the embarrassment? I'll do it, I've got my sword right here."

>>14820011

And now fresh from the 731th layer of the Abyss we present the latest in haute couture for the aspiring evil Archmage.

The imprisoned souls of starving orphans have toiled endlessly over the shadowsilk adding a pleasing feeling of despair to it and at times one can even hear the quiet keening of their cries.

The Mithril Mantle and helmet is made from the Despoiled statuary from elven temples dedicated to Miilitharaniel, Goddess of reason, understanding and magic, and enchanted by the famed night hag coven of Dreadfate Copse in the grey wastes.

>>14822240
"Look at them, Ghradys, aren't they just darling?"

"Oh, I know! Those spikes, the palps...I love the tooth motif on the legs."

"It's not just a motif, Ghradys. You'll see."

"Ooh, are you going to set them loose?

"Oh, naturally. There's a little village at the base of the mountain for them to despoil. Now! My darlings, come back as soon as you're done and there'll be a damned soul in it for each of you."

*HLORK!* *HRONK!* *HHOOOOR!*

>>14822843
Oh wow. Here we go again.

>>14818703
>>14822240
>>14819872
"Uhm. This is Doctor Robert Thompson here, date 4/23/2014. We've been working on gene therapy regimens for the inmates, and honestly it's been going well. We're not sure where the compound came from, but the locals say it's a fragment of the grey matter of a local Native American god. I can't recall its name, but Sanders says it translates to "The Silent Mother of the Caves". Regardless, the patients are responding well. Most of them have ceased their violent or abnormal behavior and have attained a sense of lucidity. Swanson, the paranoid schizophrenic on the third floor, has started painting happier pictures of the nearby lake. It's reassuring, to be honest. We can make them better men."

>>14823255
"Thompson again, 5/19. The patients are restless, they seem to be a tad agitated. The subjects who've received implants distance themselves from the control group, and the control group is willingly giving them the space. Sat in on one of their musical therapy sessions, had to leave halfway through. Ghastly music, sounded like none of them knew how to play. Made them happy, though. Perhaps music would alleviate the tension."

"Thompson here, 5/23. Swanson is dead, despite medical attention. He had a bit of a violent fit last night where he accused us of trying to feed him to some great beast. He dragged Smith, one of the orderlies, into his cell and jammed the door shut with his bed. By the time we cut the door off the wall, they were both dead. Swanson has painted a mural on the wall with his paint set...apparently, the staff decided not to give them any red paint because it might be a psychological stimulant. The worst part is, this does not fit any of Swanson's psychological profile before. None of his hallucinations ventured into this territory. He's drawn these hunched things that resemble walking crabs, when most of his paranoia revolved around government conspiracies. We may have a problem."

>>14823310
"This is, uhm, Doctor Bill Sanders, speaking for Doctor Thompson. He's...well, he's a bit hammered right now. The experiment's been a failure. All of the patients are dead through ritualistic murder, each managing to strange the other all at once like some perverted Ouroborous. We've moved the bodies below to the lab. The rest of the inmates seem happy. Can't imagine why, though the dead men are some of the most damaged, violent men in the state. I'm preparing for an autopsy, will keep the recorder on and add an audio feed to you all at Headquarters."

"I'm sober. For now. I wish I wasn't. Sanders is dead. It got off the slab and bit clean through his neck. But Sanders is still alive...that head of his is jabbering around on the floor, rolling in circles as it stares at everything. We're all on a HAZMAT lockdown for now...nothing's getting out. The body used to belong to a patient named Hank Wakefield, an extreme misanthrope who tried to kill a few folks about six months back with bombs. But it's not Hank. Every time it moves, it's hunched and chittering, those claws massive and distended. I can hear his bones break to accommodate the changes to his body, and his intestines are just...jutting out of his mouth. There's not a lot of time. I can hear them pounding on the doors to the morgue...and it's not going to hold for lo-"

"Hush, little baby...Mother will lead you safe and sound home..."

Things that look like gods or demon lords seem to go over well, so here goes.

And image limit...

Good thread. Respawn?

Eh, wait and se if any more writefaggotry develops. Once that's used up start another.

>>14822885
"Gentlemen, in 1957, the Soviets put Sputnik into orbit. We thought we had them beat when we landed on the moon in '69. We might have counted our chickens before they hatched. Lieutenant Roberts?"

"In the summer of 1972, we picked up transmissions from an unknown source somewhere in Earth's orbit. We managed to triangulate a position, and we found something...shocking. The Soviets are trying to build the world's first sustainable environment to orbit the Earth. Well, were trying."

"In 1974, all communications went dead. We were unable to pick up any signals or transmissions from the station. We thought they had changed frequencies, but the boys at the CIA talked to one of their informants at the Kremlin. Turns out the entire station lost its atmosphere in a leak, the whole project is stricken from the records and Soviet history."

"Then why are we here, sir?"

"Because last week we found another transmission after two years of silence. Morse code. Three words, over and over. Help us, stop. We're sending you up to bring back whatever intel you can and find what's been living up there all this time."

>>14819549
Her sojourn to the court the King of Tears went well, despite all expectations. She had travelled many leagues, and overcome all hardships on her road. To beg for clemency at the feet of the dark lord who repeatedly raided her homeland caused her no pangs of wounded pride, as she had sworn to do whatever it took to keep her people safe from his depredations.
After hearing her heatfelt pleas, the King smiled upon her, and said that her land had nothing more to fear from him, so impressed was he with her resolve, compassion and beauty. He would speed her home tomorrow, after a night's sleep...
As she awoke, she discovered that he had spoken the truth, and her homeland was truly safe from him. Flexing the metal monstrosities that acted as her hands, her new form took to the skies and headed home, unmindful of her shrieks of protest and terror.
Her tears are all that is left of her people, her mind long since shattered at the sight of her nation's annihilation at her hands.

More about the girl, right? So I was on the drop ship, waiting for orders in the middle of a terror mission in some backwater hellhole in the Midwest. She was pretty cute as far as a recruits go. Thin and athletic with soft, pretty features. Short, blond hair. Nice rack too. The kind of perky tits you just want to grab and...Anyway, Alpha and Bravo team had just been reduced to ground chuck, which was kind of unnerving because they were the ones with all the nice armor and high-tech toys. We had somewhere around a 30% chance of survival. I don't remember the exact statistics. I'm not some kind of numerologist. I figured, what the hell, go ahead and ask her out to the movies before we have our organs harvested.

Stewart! That was her name. Arlene Stewart. So while everyone else was praying to their God, I cozied up to Arlene and spread it on real smooth, but it just wasn't happening. All she could do was go on about the lack of support...they only issued her a stun rod...blah blah blah. Then she grabbed her head, crossed her legs, and started screaming that something was raping her mind. Typical rookie shit, y'know.

At first I was like "rude!", but then I was like "Oh." Yeah, she got mind controlled. That was her first combat drop too. Her and Dieter both got it bad. Total berserker. Dieter lowered the ramp and went tear-ass out into the open. Poor bastard never cleared the gantry. He caught like three green bolts to the chest and POW! Pink mist. Everyone in the front row was spray-painted. And then Vickers and Mayer were blown apart, and Barker dropped his rifle and panicked. Yeah. I hid behind Fatty when the Snakemen opened up, and by some miracle, I survived. The only thing I remember clearing is the pilot calling out for me to stop beating him with my rifle and screaming for him to dust off.

I turned around, covered in blood, to watch the skirmish disappear behind me. I caught a glimpse of Arlene as the ramp closed, walking into a group of Snakemen, arms extended like she was going to give 'em all a nice, big hug. When we were out of range, HQ nuked the site from orbit. It was the only way to be sure. It was a hard break, but I guess it beats getting slammed by creepazoids in some alien fuck chamber.

Fucking X-Com man. Pay is good, but hardly any opportunities for dating. What else do you want to know? I got all kinds of fucked up stories.

>>14818614
Mum's been gettin' mad at me again because I can't catch my food. She says I'm a big boy and I'm her special child but she's disappointed on account of how I'm going hungry for days on end because dinner or lunch is movin' too fast for me to catch.

I shouldn't protest, really. I don't like bein' hungry, and my sisters won't share their meals with me. I don' understand how they can be so ugly and yet folk come runnin' to them in dark alleys, stinkin' of pheromones. But dinner always runs from me.

I'd kill 'em and eat 'em, but mom's right. They get all stiff and bitter when they die first. The adrenaline keeps 'em spongy and tender, I reckon. But I hate how they kick and scream and tear at my throat as I swallow 'em. S'a shame, really. But we've all got to survive, I suppose.