The whole village was sick. Men and women, children and the elderly, all laying down to avoid exertion. Confused family dogs roaming about and whining in distress over their masters. The hunger was unbearable, but nothing seemed to sustain them. They had gorged through their winter's stores, eaten the seed for spring. They still had wasted away as if they had not eaten at all, nothing so much as a momentary lull in the hunger, not one extra ounce of fat. The air was quiet but for the odd sob, broken occasionally by a frustrated scream of anguish.
Then came the laughing, the maniacal laughing. Someone was about to end themselves again, how would this one go? There was no strength for rope work any longer. The answer came a few minutes later, just enough strength to open his wrists. The madness had set in deeper at this point, in a frenzied wail one of his neighbours sunk as low as to gnaw upon his still warm flesh. Even in their state the townsfolk could show disgust, at least until those words were echoed from that blood stained mouth, dripping with skin and hair and dropping bits of flesh.. 'It is filling!'
Limu, the demon princess of hunger. A dark mockery of the eastern saints, her priests wear but simple sackcloth robes, drawn tight with bits of frayed rope. Each one an emaciated wreck of a human being, often they are mistaken for the undead, but these poor souls are still living in body if not in spirit. While the mad monks themselves are not terribly difficult to overcome, they are incredibly dangerous. When they enter a region, food will not sustain nor sate hunger in any way among the men and other humanoid creatures. Only the flesh of other thinking beings will sate their hunger, turning the region into either a graveyard or a den of ravenous ghouls. They will lurk in dark forests or hidden crags and chant their dark praises from their unwilling lips, a mockery of the religious rites of righteous knights who foolishly hunt them. While they will defend themselves with crook and staff, stone and sling... slaying them is a terrible fate. Those who spill the blood of a mad monk, will be cursed to always both feel the hunger of Limu and cause it in others, even if all monks are slain. The madness often drives the former heroes to become the next monks.
The Necronomicon, Family Skiner Edition.
14 hours ago