Rolled 7, 6, 10 = 23 (3d10)
>>6312267>>6312068>>Mortrose, The Primordial Lindwyrm of Rebirth>Unit Action [God and the Gang] [No DI]: Mossy on down to <34,25> town.>Minor: Burn 2 mana for 1 DI>Major: [Terraform Creation] [2xDI] - Armaments Override -> Consecrators - She is proud, she is vain. She refutes a world, a civilization, which existed before Her own. Now that all Jungle Ruins are firmly in Her demesne, She suffuses the Gun-slugs that make such Armaments with Her saint-split ichor, and forever more their produce will resemble, will recount, her own prestige and majesty. From resembling carved grey stone to molded fired clay, from projecting glowing green gouts to blistering blue blasts. While the exact mechanisms behind the weapons themselves may remain a mystery for ages to come, the Consecrators now serve their Lady's purpose: rending spirits and souls as readily as they do flesh and stone.The overall benefit from the resource is still the same, but I'm changing the name cause I can, and they are now effective against less-than-corporeal entities too. We write the history books, here.
Using: Domain - Souls, Mud. Rolling Terraforming
Have you ever wondered where these mystical weapons of the ruins come from? The shortsighted Saint and her Narcissists certainly didn't, more than happy to scrape them off of the ground, or a freshly fallen fellow's corpse, and go off to make more corpses. But that's exactly what they are, in a sense.
Corpses of the fallen, scooped up off the jungle floor and processed by the still-running gun-slugs of the ancient civilization that created them, and the raptugai, to fuel their wars. These atrocious fusions of slug, cricket, and monkey, devour the fallen and yet living; and inside their internals print out, extrude, and combine the components into masterfully consistent pseudo-inorganic pattern blocks and internal power stores to deliver death from afar. Which they then deposit at instinctually-programmed locations.
This is, of course, all fine and dandy. But the Lady shall not be satisfied with just that. To simply process just the bodies is wasteful, to simply disintegrate matter is limited. As Her mass surges along the jungle floor, Her will and essence seeps up through the soil and the feet of the gun-slugs, twisting their natures and their programming, all to Her own ends. The gun-slugs now devour their prey's physical bodies along with the lingering remains of soulstuff still clinging to freshly fallen prey, and their newly produced Consecrators lyse through mortal shells and glowing souls found within. Soon, the transformation is so universal, that Armaments are soon phased out entirely as they slowly but steadily break down from overuse in narcissist hands, and by the turn of the epoch, only Consecrators remain.
