The pool was a brilliant shade of blue, a dazzling contrast to the rocky hill of Red Jasper that housed it. Many alive on Samsarras believe that the demon realm of the Sribinet can not house such beauty, but they are wrong. There are sites of natural wonder in that damned place that would leave them in tears. While many of its denizens are monstrous in appearance, there are others who match that grotesqueness with their inhuman beauty. Those among the living that have seen them are hard pressed to say which they fear more.
The pool was not terribly different than the ones around it. Many such shallow patches of liquid dotted the landscape in this part of the Sribinet. Each one looked down onto the world of Samsarras, showing a series of ever shifting scenes. Bakuritan, Demon Goddess of despair, created it thus. She and her children could watch the peoples of the world, feeding on their sadness. This was why the Spiders of Bak gathered there at current.
The other pools were largely vacant as the horrors scurried over each other to glimpse into the still waters. Each one appeared as the shriveled head of an elf, it’s eyes sewn shut. A series of spider legs sprang forth from amidst its stringy hair, making a continuous tapping sound as they moved over the hard stone beneath them. Fleshy Stalks extended from their mouths, ending in orange globes that served as the monsters’ compound eyes. Every so often, one made a sound not unlike a child’s laughter.
The waters displayed the visage of an elf sitting in a rough wooden chair, his head bowed. A continuous drip of water came from the ceiling, occasionally falling in such a fashion that it would hit him, yet he could not be bothered to move. His right hand clenched and released around the handle of a small knife, it’s blade stained from years of use in a kitchen. The left hand held a scrap of white fabric dotted with stains of crimson, it’s softness in stark contrast the the knives hard edge. The elf’s eyes settled on neither of these things, however. Instead, they stared vacantly at the floor.
Tenderly, he lifted the fabric and pressed it to his cheek. At first, just a single tear wet his thin cheek, eventually falling to the ground to become indistinguishable from water that dripped about him. Then his chest started lifting and falling rapidly, his voice cracking in huge sobs. The cloth floated slowly to the ground as he pressed his hands to his face. The knife still rested in his palm, sandwiched there by his forehead.
All of the Bak Spiders came alive now, scurrying excitedly about the pool. The air filled with the sound of crying children as they sang their unholy chorus. Though they possessed the intelligence of a beast, they knew the time was almost upon them. Soon, this man would be Bakuritan’s completely. Soon, he would give into his sorrow.
Soon, they would gain another to their family.
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The Vulture Priests are the enemy of knowledge and enlightenment. They seek to bring the eternal silence, the end of all things. Decay and obedience is their only god.
Armor Class 6 [13] Hit Dice 1 (4hp) Attacks 1 × Beak (1d4 or by weapon) THAC0 19 [0] Movement 120’ (40’) Saving Throws D12 W13 P14 B15 S16 (1) Morale 8 (11 when at their temple) Alignment Lawful XP 10 Number Appearing 2d4 (1d6 × 10) Treasure Type D Immune to the Divine: The spells and powers of clerics and paladins have no effect on them. Weapons: They frequently use wickedly curved daggers, which they use for sacrificial purposes. Soul Clouders: There is a 10% chance that any Vulture Priest can use the sleep spell once per day. The targets are still awake, but they are beset by such a deep depression that it has the same effect as sleep. They may only watch what unfurls around them.
