The Dust Tyrant
(Demipower of disintegration [He/Him] / LE)
Pantheon: Beholders
Realm: Quasi-Elemental Dust / Oasis of Filth / Palace of Obliteration
The Dust Tyrant, an enigmatic beholder of considerable girth and grandiosity, claims a lineage that traces back to the revered Great Mother. It’s a boast that, if true, places him among the echelons of beholder royalty. This Elder Orb, a moniker he wears as proudly as a king wears his crown, presides over his domain with the haughtiness of a tyrant born to rule. But he is not just any despot; he is He of the Dust, wreathed perpetually in a cloak of dust, a spectacle of his own making through the mastery of telekinesis.
His predilection for disintegration is more than a mere hobby; it is a passion, a love affair with obliteration that is as intense as it is indiscriminate, often directed toward anything foreign that dares to stir within his sight. Yet, his targets are non-native objects, suggesting an odd respect for or perhaps a necessity to maintain the indigenous elements of his realm untouched.
Under the Tyrant’s dominion are legions of the plane’s denizens: seven tribes of sandmen and fourteen swarms of mephits. Even a dao, a creature of considerable power in its own right, has fallen under his spellbinding control. These ensorcelled slaves serve him, not out of loyalty but compelled by enchantments they cannot break. The Dust Tyrant remains unchallenged, the singular apex of power in his world—a fact that stokes the fires of his contentment. In a plane devoid of beholder-kin or any equivalent threat, he reigns supreme, and he’ll fiercely defend this status quo against any would-be usurpers.
Yet for all his madness, which by beholder standards is saying quite a bit, the Dust Tyrant harbours a soft spot—a tender, if twisted, love for a dust mephit. This affection is his Achilles’ heel, a chink in his otherwise impenetrable armour. He is so enamoured with this creature that he would, in the heat of passion, forsake his rule and his minions. This vulnerability could be his undoing or perhaps a path to redemption, as love, even for a beholder, has the power to change the very nature of a being. But cutters must tread carefully in these parts, for the madness of a beholder in love is a dangerous and unpredictable force, capable of spawning either a tragedy—or a tale for the ages.
Source: Rip Van Wormer and Jon Winter-Holt, mimir.net
