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Week 3 Morktober prompts

Darkness Deepens: Week 3 of Morktober

As we crest the midpoint of Morktober, we pause to reflect on the dark and twisted journey we’re sharing. If you haven’t already, check out my entries for Week 1 and Week 2. These spine-chilling locales and eerie artifacts weave tales that could make even the bravest adventurer tremble. Now, as we gear up for Morktober Week 3, we’re digging deep into themes lurking in the shadows, revealing whispered tales of despair, revenge, and twisted fates.

Morktober prompts for Week 3

15: Ethereal

Ethereal Reaver

Forged in the liminal spaces between realties, this translucent dagger tears into the ethereal forms of g. But against common thugs, it simply phases through the flesh of mortals, leaving no mark and causing no pain. Many whisper of ghost hunters or exorcists wielding these blade, facing down haunts beyond the understanding of mere mortals.

1d6 against ethereal beings; 0 against mortals. On a critical hit against an ethereal being, there’s a chance (GM’s discretion) to banish the entity back to its home plane.

16: Harbinger

Pyraclaw, the Tyrant’s Omen

Perched upon the ramparts of ancient castles or the timeworn branches of dead trees, Pyraclaw stands as an ill omen. A raven unlike any other, its eyes blaze with a fiery luminescence. Folktales and prophecies tell of its appearances always preceding cataclysmic shifts in power. When a regent’s reign is near its end or when a tyrant is on the verge of rising, the piercing cries of Pyraclaw echo doom.

17: Labyrinth

Catacombs of the Cursed Serpent

The mouth to eternal damnation. Here, bones don’t rest; they scream, twisted into unholy architectures by the Serpent’s will. This sprawling underground chasm is a living maze, its walls shifting with the agonized writhing of souls consumed long ago. The air is thick with the cries of those entombed, seeking an end that never comes. Most who enter are swallowed by the Serpent, their cries adding to the Catacomb’s haunting chorus, their bones forever ensnared in the Serpent’s embrace.

18: Blast

Blightbone Cannon

Made from the skeletal remains of a colossal primordial creature, this weapon is a dark testament to mankind’s insatiable desire for dominion and ruin. Its marrow-infused barrels are etched with forgotten sigils, locking in curses of decay and doom. Its projectiles, cursed orbs filled with the very essence of ruin, explode on impact, leaving areas infected and desolate. Ground turns barren, waters become poisoned, and the very air seems to wither. Where its blighted shots land, nothing grows, and life itself is choked out.

19: Infested


Once a thriving mining settlement nestled between mountain peaks, Khostholm now stands silent and forsaken. Something cursed was found in the depths of those dark shafts. Now there are no footsteps here, only the ceaseless whispers of vengeful spirits that seep from every decrepit building and cracked cobblestone. The skeletal remains of homes and halls groan with sorrowful memories, aching with the weight of the phantoms within. Those who dare to wander Khostholm’s streets are likely to add to the chorus of unending lament.

20: Bless

Blessing of the Void

Once every aeon, it’s said the distant, cold stars themselves blink, casting their gaze upon the earth. Those who dare to look up and meet their eldritch stare are chosen, receiving gifts incomprehensible to the mortal mind. These aren’t blessings of divinity or benevolence, but rather enigmatic fragments from the abyss that alters the very soul. To be chosen is not a boon. The vast, indifferent cosmos makes its mark, and those who’ve been “blessed” often live haunted. These secrets are a weight that presses their minds into madness.

21: Worm

Worm That Walks

Forbidden tomes, decipherable only by those stained by darkness, contain the ritual to beckon the Worm That Walks. This ancient entity, older than the stars themselves, is a writhing mass of countless worms. The monstrosity engulfs landscapes, consuming mountains, forests, and cities, leaving naught but decay in its wake. Its insatiable hunger has reduced countless lands to lifeless husks. Sorcerers who hope to harness its unfathomable power are fools, for no incantation or ritual can control or satiate it. Those who call to it are likely to be the first to be devoured.

Conclusion of Morktober Week 3

Haunting tales from our community now echo through the corridors of the internet. Starting with eerie reinterpretations of our prompts and evolving into entirely new dark sagas, our community’s passion and talent have truly shone. Furthermore, if you’re eager to expand your Mörk Borg horizons, don’t forget to follow me on social media and use #mörktober.

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