User:Foxwarrior/Hindu Lord
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| Male Elf True Fiend (4) Body Sprouter (4) | |
| CN Large outsider | |
| Init/Senses | +1/Low-Light Vision; Listen +2, Spot +2 |
| Languages | Common, Elven, Dwarven, Celestial, Draconic, Abyssal, Infernal |
| AC | 21, touch 13, flat-footed 19 (-1 Size, +4 Armor, +2 Dexterity, +2 Natural, +4 EDN (+2 ED)) |
| hp | 71 (8d8+32 HD); DR 4/Good or Iron |
| Immune | Electricity, magic sleep |
| Fort/Ref/Will | +10/+8/+7; +2 against enchantment |
| Speed | 30' land, 60' swim |
| Melee | Slam +10 3d6+4 (+11 1d8+4 while Medium) or |
| Melee | Sprouted Mouth Bite +10 1d6+4 (+11 1d6+4 while Medium) or |
| Melee | Sprouted Arm Grapple +10 attack, +19 grapple (+11 and +11 while Medium) |
| Space/Reach | 15 ft./15 ft. |
| Base Atk/Grp | +7/+19 (only +11 for summoned arms) |
| Abilities | Str 18, Dex 14, Con 18, Int 8, Wis 10, Cha 18 |
| Feats | Permanent Body Parts, Tracker, Aquafiend, Tome Natural Heavyweight, Harmless Form, Large Size |
| Skills | Bluff +10 (11 ranks), Cultures +10 (6 ranks), Disguise +15 (11 ranks), Healing +6 (0 ranks), Intimidation +15 (11 ranks), Legerdemain +13 (11 ranks), Perception +2 with sight or hearing (0 ranks), Stealth +10 (8 ranks), Survival +8 (8 ranks); see skill summaries for abilities related to these skills |
| Possessions | Longsword, Longbow, and 20 arrows (for aesthetic purposes), MW Chain Shirt, Healing Belt, White Dragon's Draught, Anklet of Translocation, Cape of the Viper, Gloves of Object Reading, best two of six random 8th level (rolled on MIC chart): Gauntlets of Ghost Fighting and Goggles of the Golden Sun |
| Telepathy | Out to 100 feet with any creature that speaks a language. |
| Sphere | Basic access to Plant: entangle, wood shape/warp wood, plant growth, and command plants each 1/day, with a save DC of 20. Move through undergrowth without impediment. |
| Sprout Body Parts | Body Sprouter. Create up to 8 body parts within 80' as a standard action; creatures who don't want to be covered in limbs may avoid this fate with a DC 20 Will save. Only 8 body parts may continue to exist while more than 800' away. Body parts have 15 AC and 5 HP, or 17 AC and 5 HP while Medium. |
| Harmless Form | Change shape into a medium sized humanoid. Reflection in mirrors is still true form. |
| Goggles of the Golden Sun | Immune to blindness and dazzling effects. 3/day, sacrifice a level 3+ spell to cast Fireball (DC 14) with your caster level. |
| Gauntlets of Ghost Fighting | Ignore miss chances for incorporeal targets, and deal +1d6 damage against them with melee attacks. |
| Healing Belt | 3 charges restored at dawn, standard action touch to heal based on charges spent: 2d8 for 1; 3d8 for 2; 4d8 for 3. |
| White Dragon's Draught | Drink to gain the ability to breathe a 30' cone of 6d6 cold damage (DC 23) as a standard action once during the next hour. |
| Anklet of Translocation | Swift action to teleport 10 feet, twice per day. |
| Cape of the Viper | 3 charges restored at dawn, standard action to turn into a viper depending on charges spent: Small for 1; Medium for 2; Large with a +2 to save DC for 3. |
| Gloves of Object Reading | Hold onto object for several minutes to identify owner's race, gender, age, alignment, and how the owner gained and lost the object. For every 5 minutes of holding, identify one more owner back. |
Markoth was once an ordinary demonic fishman on the 273rd layer of the Abyss. He lived his days in relative contentment, swimming through reefs of calcified souls and tormenting the fiendish tuna and other fishes, but one day an enterprising balor drained his ocean and put up a labyrinth of torment, rendering him homeless. Although he fought desperately to stop the balor, it was a hopeless fight, so he was soon defeated and deposited in the center of the new labyrinth. A few decades of wandering later, Markoth thoroughly honed his direction-finding skills and escaped from the labyrinth and the drained layer, swearing to get his revenge.
Markoth spent many years wandering from place to place, seeking to obtain new and unusual powers from the demons around him. He lived in the horrible woods of layer 289 for a year, learning to remove the shells off of the giant spiders who lived there without their realizing it; he practiced lying and intimidation with a crippled glabrezu on layer 307 in exchange for food; and he finished off a party of very lost adventurers wandering the 312th layer. Markoth's biggest windfall, however, was when he found (and took) the opportunity to eat an unguarded nest full of Marilith babies on the 333rd layer, and acquired the ability to sprout new arms. Markoth saw the promise in this ability, and spent many years practicing it on unsuspecting demons until he could use it effectively.
When Markoth returned to the 273rd layer of the Abyss to sabotage the balor's labyrinth, he found that it had long ago been destroyed and replaced with an amusement park by a family of succubi. His sense of purpose lost, he became somewhat disillusioned with the whole demonic lifestyle. Markoth became a heroic vigilante hermit on the 273rd layer of the Abyss, occasionally sneaking into the amusement park to rescue tortured souls and demons who would otherwise be doomed to a life of wage slavery beneath the twisted succubi. This annoyed the succubi greatly, so they put together enough money to Divine his location.
Just as the succubi were closing in on his hut in the dried out reefs, he found himself in an unfamiliar place. The air was eerily quiet, with no screams in the distance. Nothing was on fire. Some sort of odd, whitish light was pouring in from holes in the walls, and the ceiling outside was a bright glowing blue.
"I summon thee from the depths of the Abyss to do my bidding, demon!" spoke the least terrifying voice Markoth had ever heard. An unusual creature stood before him, gesturing wildly with a half-empty bag of powdered silver. She reminded him of an adventurer he slew many years ago. He peered down at her.
"Me, obey you? Not bloody likely." This seemed to take her aback a little, but she regained her composure.
"I have trapped you in this circle, so you are mine to command. My request is simple, and surely appeals to your nature: wreak havoc upon the Thrice-Born Believers until their upstart religion is no more, then return whence you came."
"Havoc for havoc's sake no longer appeals to me. I see no reason to cause harm to these Thrice-Born Believers, so you can shove your request and leave me in peace."
"This is most troubling... a demon who does not wish harm. Perhaps the council is right, and the third universal crisis is upon us," mused the wizard, too quietly for Markoth to hear. "I shall not see this universe destroyed! You must be returned to your Evil ways as quickly as possible! Feel free to rest here; I'll have lesser geas ready for you tomorrow." She turned back at the door as she was leaving, "Oh yeah. Before I forget, I suggest that you tell me your full name, so I can reach you if you decide to leave without saying goodbye."
"Markothrynischoriax is my name, but I'm usually referred to as Markoth," he found himself replying.
The night passed without event. Markoth determined that the changing ceiling outside was quite high.
The wizard returned the next day. "By the power of this lesser geas, I command you to spend the next nine days recentering your ways to that which the Tanar'ri are supposed to follow. Oh, and don't attack me when I break this circle." She broke the circle. "The woods are that way, try torturing some small animals."
Markoth looked bemusedly at the wizard, and wandered into the forest. Unable to figure out what her lesser geas actually required him to do, he spent his time centering himself with the ways of nature in a deep trance. The tweeting calm of the forest seemed to him to be the ideal way for all creatures to live, by comparison with an endless cycle of revenge. After seven days of this perfect concentration, he began to understand the slow growth of the trees and bushes around him. On the eighth and ninth days, deep fever dreams of delusion inflicted by a severe loss in intellectual ability showed him how to coax plants into action.
"You've gotten stronger since we last met, Markothrynischoriax. I had to buy a scroll from that frustratingly smug fellow Ieldoa this time. Are you cured?"
"I understand what it is to be a tree, stationary and mindless. I feel like mushrooms, sprouting wherever I please. I know the calm of the forest, and understand its harmony."
"Well, this certainly isn't what I meant to happen. I dismiss this lesser geas from you." Markoth suddenly felt capable of thinking more than zero coherent thoughts at a time. "Now, promise to destroy the religion of the Thrice-Born Believers or I will start flaying the trees in your precious forest alive, one at a time."
Markoth didn't realize she was bluffing. "Don't you dare, you meddling witch! I'll destroy this religion for you if you promise not to harm the forest in any way."
"It's a deal."
It occurs to me that I've just made Markoth into a tree-hugging pacifist who's sworn off revenge. Is that silly of me?
