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Bangal of Winter Clock

A lich, be I, a fondness for cats, have I. Kitties.

0 · 284 views · located in Verinotte Hall

a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by SkullJester

Description

Name: Bangal
Age: ????thefuck????
Race: Lich, undead Wizard. Used to be human? Doesn't honestly remember.

Weight: Very little
Height: 5'11"
Eyes: Pale orbs of golden-yellow light
Hair: You're joking, right?

A lich born into this world from eras past. Through his eternal existence, he has lost and found his own mind in the voids of insanity and academic pursuit. Not a shred of flesh remains on his person, so aged that even the preservative magics can now only keep the bones from turning to dust. Robes and armor of every color, usually trailed by a pack of felines.

Image

Personality

Lich, 19th Level Human(?) Wizard
Medium Undead (Augmented Humanoid)
Hit Dice: 19d12+19 (146)
Initiative: +5
Speed: 30 ft.
Armor Class: 21
Base Attack: +9/+4

Attack: Negative energy and paralysis touch

Reach: 5 feet melee

Special: Damaging touch, fear aura, paralyzing touch, spells
Special Qualities: Improved turn resistance, damage resistance (bludgeoning and magic), immunity to cold
electricity, polymorph, and mind effecting effects

Saves: Fort+6 / Reflex+7 / Will+13
Abilities: Str 12, Dex 13, Con ---, Int 29, Wis 15, Cha 15
Alignment: Neutral Evil
Challenge Rating: 21

Equipment

Not so much equipment, as a simple book, and an obsidian orb. He does however, have quite a number of spells and incantations at his disposal.

He can cast a grand total of 55 spells a day! Yay!

Specialized in Necromancy spells, Bangal gave up on learning from the schools of Divination and Illusion. He knows all Spells, Level 0 through Level 9 in all other schools.

So begins...

Bangal of Winter Clock's Story

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Character Portrait: Sirad Character Portrait: Bangal of Winter Clock
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#, as written by Rulke
The white haired minx of Hell would be returning to location she brought forth, rather curious that the world had not ended yet or that more people had not come here. She intended to do some heavy investigating and perhaps unearth people lack of knowledge of this place as the whole area was rife with dark chaotic energy the likes no one else had seen. And yet not even murmur on the metaphorically supernatural Richter-Scale, an unearthing of this kind should have provided something even if only acknowledgement, surely evil were not so bone-idle they ignored something to this extent. This was annoying, why provide a Alexandria Library of Malevolence and Darkness and not get some great evilness out of this.

Sighing she stepped into the library, choosing to teleport through the door and witnessed the vastness, the huge area encompassing books shelves soaring to the ceiling or further, while their twisted shape and strange material seemed to echo a protrusion, a cruel hunger that seemed eldritch and old, ancient desires that were laced with toxic rulings of a kind you could never fathom of predict.

Now none of this would interest her, despite the library having eyes and mouths in places it should not, in the reception area, there was a figure slumped over. The floor would ooze and reform at interval, causing her to hover so she would not sink. The very innards were thriving gulping horrors which dripped and drew saliva from the place. It reminded me her much of Gluttony and like Gluttony the entire place was an entity in itself, a gigantic library which trembled and shuddered while rhythmic beats and thumps could be heard.

Spiny spindly pillars held up roof, and eyes or cackling fiends would dot around, knowing that to her they were bitches, but also knowing she felt uncomfortable in this horrific aberration to knowledge arcana, knowledge old and knowledge forbidden.

Appearing next to the reception she tapped the paled bony fingers gnarled and old, speaking in her coarse way, "Oi, Bony get-up your not supposed to be here, this is not the New York Central Park, you can't just rest here like some obnoxious bum, wake the fuck up before I fling you across the room." then smiling sweetly she would continue, "You know, if you want to or whatever, I could less and could frankly give a toss what you do, but you will get up or you find yourself in very real pain."

As she spoke she heard meowing, as many cats came out the shadows, cute fluffy kitten.

Okay, now she had to be high...

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Character Portrait: Sirad Character Portrait: Bangal of Winter Clock
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There was a many clacking of bones and an audible rush of air and power as baleful, golden light filled the cracked abysses that were the skeletons eyes. As Bangal slowly un-slumped himself from his century long nap, he was desperately trying to remember what in the Hells he was doing in this accursed librar-...Oh. Right. Damn, damnable, wish-to-be-burned adventurers. Invading his home. Alas, it was common enough. Once every few hundred years or so, something fought to take him on. He was killed, probably, but his phylactery had been safely protected, so he managed to resurrect soon enough. Then he wanted a name.

He had not even yet turned his attention to the female addressing him. Petulant Infernal being. He could smell it on the air. Well...not so much smell as...Oh, he got his own idea, no need to explain yourself to yourself, self. Yes. That made sense. To him.

With more creeking, he slowly rose and turned his haunting gaze upon her, and smiled as best he could without facial muscles, as he was practically over-run by a mini-swarm of his adorable, faithful, every breeding and loving felines. "Yes? Can this old one help you?" He finally asked, his voice echoing with the call of the grave, the chill of death, and the fluffy-adorable warmness of kitten-induced happiness. And power. Lots of power.

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Character Portrait: Sirad Character Portrait: Bangal of Winter Clock
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"Odds are I was here since it was first around. I really have no clue, to be frank, servant of Asmodeus. Ah but...but...I remember a lot of construction, of sorts, when I first sat down. I think...I think..." He mused, now lost in thought. "Oh yes. Definitely. Definitely had flesh when I first got here. Yes. Definitely." The ancient thing continued to ramble.

"I don't remember these cats. Had to have bred from the ones that followed me in I suppose. Still fluffy. Still absolutely wonderful companions." A few mewls and mroews were heard from...inside?...him as a kitten popped its head out of the side of his exposed ribcage. "Cute things. I will call you Nerull." The black ball of fur licked his salty rib and purred.

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Character Portrait: Sirad Character Portrait: Bangal of Winter Clock
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"You are very rude. I am just letting you know that." He stood from his seat, his old bones shuddering as kittens batted at the hem of his robes. "Looks like we're leaving. Follow me, little ones. I'll build us a new home as soon as we find a nice, silent place to settle down. I wonder if I should be looking up my old colleges and friends. I bet some of them have to be around, at least a few."

He had brought nothing with him, so he merely bundled the felines into his chest, arms, and skull. "Get along now, or no treats later. We're walking now, and if any of you fall behind, I will be most very upset." The baleful light in his eyes flared as a hole in reality opened before him, with but a thought. He stood there staring, waving his finger in a constantly annoyed motion. "No. No. Destroyed. Ransacked. No. No. No. Ah! That'll do." And he stepped through the Gate and was gone, the sounds of arcane power and mewling left in his wake.

The setting changes from the-necross-arcania to Verinotte Square

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Bangal had little to no interest in what was happening in the Tavern. He had been watching it all, of course, the wonders of the arcana. However, as he stated to himself, it was of no interest. However, the moment he saw them, the vampires which seemed to run this settlement step outside, he could feel their blood lust, and the lich could not help but shoo his kittens away back to their hiding holes, in fear that he might be caught up in the blood shed. What a sad day. It had started out so nice.

Rocking back and forth in a invisible recliner of pure mental energy, he rested, book and orb in hand. He did not want to join in the brawl, but if someone came his way, he would, of course, retaliate. He may be demented, in a senile way, of course. He may have a soft spot for felines, especially little fluffballs of kitten-y goodness. He may be a pacifist at nature...however...

He was a Lich, an Archmagi, and an undead evil. He would have his peace, one way or another...For now...Bengal waited, whistling...somehow...quite merrily.

The setting changes from verinotte-square to Verinotte Hall

Setting

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Character Portrait: Ix Blacklight Character Portrait: Zosimos Character Portrait: Bangal of Winter Clock
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The clacking, hollow voice seemed to emerge from the darkest corners of the room. It was ancient, far older than anyone else here, with a cold, creeping edge that played along its vocalization. Emerging, as if from now where, but really from a pocket dimension in the Arcane Weave, Bangal steeped forth. With his kitten and feline entourage in tow.

"I'd say the disguise is almost identical. Though I must ask, vampire, why we hare having him appear as...the other vampire?" He wasn't being disrespectful. But his mind was elsewhere. One of his cats was pregnant, and the lich's mind was more filled with the thoughts of fluffy, newborn, mewling babes.

Setting

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Character Portrait: Zosimos Character Portrait: Bangal of Winter Clock
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It looked like Casren, but it didn't smell quite like Casren. Close, but no cigar. No, no, the morph couldn't fool the father of the bride, so to speak.

Zosimos smiled, striding over towards the Casren duplicate. His footsteps echoed, and he swept a gaze around. So they were the only three here? So be it. An audience of two was better than an audience of just you.

Marvelous, although you always were more of a blue hue,
Zosimos flicked the brim of the hat, then reeled at the sudden scent of
KITTENS!
Turning on his heel, Zosimos flung himself to the ground to be among the cats. He loved cats.

Why?
He responded from the floor, shedding his purple trench coat. From there, it was propped, and made into a sort of kitty-tent.
Why not? If you could be two places at once, would you?
It was awfully clever, a stunt double so to speak. Zosimos wished he thought of it first. He had to hand it to his kin.

Setting

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Character Portrait: Ix Blacklight Character Portrait: Zosimos Character Portrait: Bangal of Winter Clock
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#, as written by Jo_Tunn
"Blue Smoo, what really gave me away?" The pouting Casren lifts his arms over his head and throws them down. It's skin suddenly bubbles and the form shifts to reveal Ix. He can't stay upset for long at the scene in front of him. He also pulls out a a lazer pointer from his body and shines it for the kittens. "So, what are you two doing here?"

Setting

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It was good to see another lover of the feline race amongst his fellow undead, but that was not why the Lich was here. No, he was here for far more...delicate reasons. He had not yet introduced himself to the Detente, though he'd been watching them since his arrival to Verinotte, in secret, thanks to handy-dandy divination.

Scooping up the white fluffy bundle known as Nerull, he let it perch inside the exposed, left side of his rib cage. It mewed. Cutely. And pawed at his bones. It almost tickled. "I do not believe either of us have ever met. And I thought, maybe, we should." Bangal himself decided to take a seat upon a floating, ethereal disk, his old bones creaking with protest. "I believe I have stated this one's reason for appearing. Is it suitable?"

Setting

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Character Portrait: Ix Blacklight Character Portrait: Zosimos Character Portrait: Bangal of Winter Clock
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It's Waffle Day where I am from,
Zosimos cood as he stroked a kitten.

Looking up, he was surprised to see Casren was back to looking like Ix. The lich was seated, and kittens pawed around. Some played in the coat, to Zosimos's delight. One even paddled up to Ix, from the coat, curious about the transformation.

Oh how he loved kittens and cats.

Zosimos, di Sangue di Bistreo, Sambuca,
The words were lain thick in the air, powerfully Grecian despite the true origins of the words.

Setting

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"It is a pleasure, I am sure." He did something, because suddenly, the felines stopped mewling ans scampered over to his side, clambering up and down his robes and bones. "I wish I could stay. However, an old ones time is always at a guess, and these little ones need to return to their mothers. They are hungry things..." The shadows enveloped him, and Bangal vanished. Not giving his name. Not giving a location, or means of contact. In truth, the senile old sorcerer had forgotten...