When the King Comes Knocking:Thaumaturge

A Dark Creeper named Vakarias that enslaved a Myconid colony to assist him in slaying Forgehome miners to steal metal that they were mining for his Mistress, Aleeria.

The Heart-spore plays on the throat-strings of the dead dwarf to perform its twisted ventriloquism.

"ThE enTROPic thaUMatuRGE promiSeD Us seedlingSsss , Us, mycoNiDssss... ThesE CavES iF We wouLD HeLP IT slAY the WOrker-BeaRD-meN heRE... BuT NOw ThE MaGiciAN HAs WreSTED My CONTrol ovER ThE ColOnY FroM MY enTiTy... ThE RaiSER of ThE FallEN hAs CasT a CursE oN my FellOW MuSHRoom MeN, ANd oNly But a FeW of THem... hEEd My Call... AnD Only thE WeaKesT oF thE TriBe LisTen, for TheY Fear The ThauMaTURGE..."

The voice is a droning monotone. The dwarven foreman mouth-piece spasms, and bloody phlegm is thrust out of its mouth, bleeding onto and into its messy, spore dusted beard.

"ha-ah,ha- I Ha-a-ha-asK oF YOU... TAke THE THAUmatuRGE DOWN... GraNt mE Back THe rEIGns of My ColoNY... AnD we Will LeaVE THesE dwaRvEN CavERnS... ForEVER."

-Originally posted by Chrespo, IC Post #65

The Heart-Spore is silent for a short moment, as to let the information it is conveying sink in. Then the horrific voice begins again.

"THe THauMaTuRge wanTS THE metALs foR ITs mASTERs... To ARM themSELVES... TooK thE METAl off the Worker-STRAPs and tooLS to FEED itS CreATURE it ALSo haS enSlavED iN thE CavE... BesT APPROach witH BlaDES NOT of MEtaL... THe MAgiCIAN of THE riSEN ANd the DestroYED haS TakEN Up quARTERs iN thE FORMAn's... oLD lIVIng SPace... HALf-wAY pOINt oF thE MiNE... CloSE TO DeepER, CLoSEr to SURface.. CloSER TO aLL..."

-Originally posted by Chrespo, IC Post #66

The Entropic Thaumaturge favoured collecting hands of his victims for his dark arts. He had captured Straka at the time that the party encountered him, and she was able to fight for her freedom.

On the far end of the sundered cage stands a dark cloaked shape. Within its hood is the face of a gaunt man who might have been handsome, had it not been for his dirty and sweat-licked hair, pale and pasty green-white skin and his eyes. His eyes are intense black pinpricks into insanity. He holds a dagger in one hand, and the other is clasped at the chest, holding his cloak tight.

He is surprisingly soft-spoken when he speaks.

"Scaled one, submit beneath my dark arts or suffer the fate I had planned for you far sooner than otherwise."

-Originally posted by Chrespo, IC Post #123