Role
concept
Added Tue Feb 17 09:49:26 2026 at level 14:
A dark elf who never really knew or saw the downsides to his
peoples culture. He idolizes the race to a fault, since that
also allows him to fulfill his narcissism learned from a
childhood of being naturally more gifted than everyone else
around him, but also poisoned by a caregiver who was constantly
putting him on a pedestal to inflame the jealousy of the other
children at the school.
Ultimately a vain, shallow person, he wants to elevate the dark
elf people simply because that will elevate his ego. Whatever
cabal or else lies in his future, he will always favor other
dark elves over anyone else. Going as far as not killing them
if he can avoid it, and he has only the most shallow
understanding of why dark elves and other elves hate each
other
If it were up to him, the entire surface would be a smoking
ruin, and the only places of safety or culture would be
Underdark cities ruled by his people.
Background
Added Tue Feb 17 09:58:31 2026 at level 14:
Growing up in Arkham, he always idolized his parent race. Not
having grown up in the culture, all he
heard at first were tales of their danger and cruelty, which to
him sounded plenty good, since those were the currency by which
his life ran.
He grew up the favored student in an academy for the children
of criminal families. Ruthlessly spoiled by a woman who used
his exotic coloring to earn her way into good drink and better
companionship amongst the criminal element, he always figured
Madame Gasty must have had a drow lover at some point that she
never forgot, by the glances she sometimes gave him once he
reached maturity and all the words of praise she had for his
people
It was only after he killed her for constantly pitting him
against the other orphans with her mind games and spoiling that
he discovered, to his bemusement, that he was not too far off
the mark. The woman had been a dark elf spy and slave for some
house or cult that, to Dolzorin's disappointment, was long
defunct, since by the time he followed the trail of missives to
their recipients, the caverns where they should have been
housed were a shattered ruin.
In its own way, life had always come easy to him. The other
children were not like him. Fela, giants, dwarves. It did not
matter. All so stupid, all so easy to manipulate. The only time
they won out against him was when they could corner him into
something physical, and even then his natural deftness meant it
really took almost all of them to manage that.
Such an upbringing taught him one undeniable fact. He was
simply worth more than most people. He was smarter, faster, and
far more desirable. All of this from simply natural talent. How
much more then would he have been if he had actually grown up
in the tunnels where he belonged. Learned the skills of his
people in truth.
He decided to make a home of that shattered cavern. Picking up
the skills of a ranger and hunter. After all, from his
childhood he had learned that if you could not catch or find
him, then he would always eventually win. Which of course was
his fated end he knew. To win, and win at anything he put his
mind to.
Not about my ears.
Added Sat Feb 21 16:23:22 2026 at level 18:
You egg sucking bilge rat son of a cow faced weasel elf.
Slam, rip.
Now is that any way to talk to an old friend.
The dwarf's face smashed once, twice, three times into the
unyielding rock as my fingers kept a tight grip on formerly
kempt braids. After a few days kept in a pit near the cliffs
of this island, you could say that he had become less than
presentable.
I will give you this, Korm. You have my respect for keeping
such a hard mouth all these days together.
Why in all the dark gods below are ye doing this.
I will give you a clue.
I wrenched his head back. It would have snapped on anyone
else, dwarven resilience was quite incredible, and I gave
him a wide smile as his dry, half blind eyes finally focused
on me. They widened as he slurred through broken teeth.
Your, your ears.
Slam, scream.
I took only modest pleasure in the sound, much more in how
the collar snapped on the rebound. Something about shifting
flesh beneath my hand was so calming.
Yes and no.
What do ye mean yes and no. Why else, slam, would ye, rip,
be doing, be doing.
Oh, now do not fall into sweet oblivion on me now, dear
Korm.
The healing potion, not cheap by any means, slipped between
split lips in drips and drabs. This was not just base murder
Whoa.
Tisk. The dear thing was insensate again. I let his head
slump and it fell to the ground, the rest of his body held
by the pit I had buried him in. Something in me twitched in
glee about a dwarf stuck in a hole as I retrieved the honey,
thick and fresh. I had spared no expense for the sake of my
friend. My friend, be you awake, I mocked with a bit of the
dwarven brogue myself.
Shaking my head at the mumbles that were my only reply, I
said. A shame then, ye lout. It will be a poor waking for
you.
I took my time, letting him fully drowse into a half
bloodied rest as I gave his scalp and face a healthy mask of
honey, then drew careful circles of it on the sandy ground.
Circles, I had a preference for the shape, could not tell
you why. Circles and ever widening circles of honey about
his head. I drew for the better part of a bell, taking the
time to draw a line straight to an ant hill, then I sat back
and watched. It did not take long for one multi legged red
insect to crawl out, then another, and then another. A chain
of chitinous fire that dearest Korm would soon wake to.
Why am I doing this, dear Korm, I spoke to the victim of
red pain to come, one not so innocent in scraped battered
quiet as fresh lines of entertainment crawled their way
toward him on trails sweeter than sin.
This is not about revenge, no, no. You and your friends
marred my body at that school of ours, yes, but it only made
me more unique, more driven. This is about, I paused,
tapping my finger on my bottom lip. This is just
reciprocation. I smiled. Yes, reciprocation. Every healthy
relationship is built on that, no. And do not worry, you are
Not about my ears - part 2
Added Sat Feb 21 16:27:16 2026 at level 18:
just the first. My luck to catch you on that sinking ship
and welcome you here, but you will not be the last. I am
sure after a few more days you will finally tell me where
the rest of our class got themselves up to. Then, dear Korm,
then I will introduce them too to my new friends at a
certain tree. They are not too fond of dwarves either.
The meddling of ancients.
Added Tue Feb 24 06:09:50 2026 at level 19:
I do not understand this. As soon as my oath was accepted, something
changed in me. I had been accepted into the refuge and told not to
hunt those who could join, and then nothing. What do you mean
nothing, I wanted to ask my mind. Never before have I been given
restriction without balking. Never has a word of cannot been spoken
to me without a spark of can I not in return, and yet here, nothing.
I have been generally more silent and meek than I have ever known
myself to be, and yet the first elf I meet soon after receives a
silent threat from my eyes. It is akin to watching the world through
the veil of my body rather than living in it as I have all my life.
In my most silent moments these instincts unsettle me. Seamlessly I
fell into the rhythm of an unheard beat, standing and healing the
dominating with guile and presence, not whatever this is, and yet
the thought of doing so fills my mouth with bile. My malice, my
thrill. These things I have always relied on to give me my inborn
edge. Where have they gone. The trees whisper, and my body and my
mind listen without being bid. I feel an old connection forming, the
weight of an age settling at the back of my mind.
*****
Hilariously, right after joining Outlander, I was greeting an elf
bard and in my fatigued state I typed nod elf. Dol very helpfully
nodded at the pair of elf skin gloves I had instead of at the player
character, which I imagine must have come off as the most incredibly
stereotypical dark elf threat this side of the Mississippi. I have
decided to incorporate this blunder into the character and shift his
pride from the intended childish and malicious tone to a more mature
take on the concept of dark elven evil. I am going to try to aim for
silent, opportunistic, and coldly callous instead, as a result of
the old ancients meddling with his unconscious. This will be my
first dark elf of this kind, so wish me luck.
Escaping murder
Added Tue Mar 3 11:19:31 2026 at level 35:
I would pull her ribs out, one by one. The twist of pained anguish
on her lips would please me greatly. With each pull I would ask a
question. When, where, why she deemed her betrayal worthwhile.
She would be strapped down by braided knots of her own hair, and
as the light faded from her eyes a satisfied grin would widen
with each beat of her fading heart
***
"You would really have done that to me," Irrella said.
"I believe so."
I was speaking with another of my old classmates. This one more
a peer, or well a former peer at the academy. Wearing her honey
blonde hair like a guardswoman her uniform, she had a weaponized
sort of beauty that I found offensive on a human.
"What has changed," she asked.
"Both little and everything. It is as though I wake each morning
having had a whispered conversation with an older wiser version
of myself. Even though I cannot remember the words, I look at my
former urges like a man does childhood indulgences."
"You do seem more sane now," she said, tilting her head. "Even
speaking of whispers there is less edge to you, but then the
edge was what I used to enjoy about you in our youth."
She nodded at me. A mirthless smile came over her features, and
in a rare moment of camaraderie for the only friend I had made
in my youth, I nodded back.
"Is that how it is for elves," she asked.
I shot her a dour glance. "There was a time I would have killed
you for that."
"For what."
"Calling me an elf. Humans look at us from without and see the
ears I no longer have. We elves look at each other from within
and see all the differences."
"So your people hate each other."
"I think it is more jealousy than hatred."
"You did not grow up with your people though. This does not make
much sense."
"And yet here we are."
She looked at me.
I looked at her.
The first steps of her attempted escape were slowed when my
spear buried itself in her back. They stopped when I pushed her
off the boat.
Blood turning red as she struggled to reach the surface of the
water, I sat, dangling my legs in the liquid, which at this
point was getting more than a little pink.
"It really is not about the ears you know," I began. I struggled,
groping for my words as I spoke to the drowning woman. "It is
about nature, about history. Jealousy was a major part of my
youth. Envious of those dark elves that got to bathe and swell
in the culture. Nowadays I am envious of a life where I never
found out what my people had actually become. No, please no
questions. It does seem like you have already got your mouth
full. Dear Irrella. You and I did have a good dalliance back in
the day. I wonder. How will your children react when you do not
come home from this little smuggling trip. Will it be the same
abandonment I felt at being the only dark face in a crowd of
inadequate, slow rotting privilege. Perhaps I will adopt them.
My, your eyes did bulge at that, did they not."
Escaping murder part 2
Added Tue Mar 3 11:23:42 2026 at level 35:
Gently nudging her hand away from finding purchase on the boat
with my foot, I shook my head. "No, no. One does wonder how you
can still hear me through the water and all that gargling, but
you always were full of tricks. At this point the sound of your
choking does not even rouse my ardor like it used to. I am in
the whole changed. I feel a purpose. One I do not wholly like,
yet must be seen through. I feel as though a bastion of clarity
has been pressed upon me. One which can help my people recover
from the losses we have inflicted on ourselves. These ancients,
twisted old demonic trees spreading their vile roots through
wounded earth, healing it with a loam rich and dark."
"No," I shook my head. "This is not about me. And this," I
gestured at her limp form, a corpse now. "This is about closing
a chapter. Going away from murder, becoming a gardener. I
suppose I can call you then my first pruning."
The drow and the dragon.
Added Mon Mar 9 09:39:01 2026 at level 42:
Your plight is a pitiable one, the drake said.
I had been stuck in a pit for several days now, the scattered bones of the
traps previous victims thankfully grown cold and stale with age. Across
from me was a thing of scales and leather. It too had grown cold and
stale, though with a far less fortunate condition than age.
I am to believe that you have insight into my life, preposterous. I shook
my head at the thing as it blinked glowing cold eyes at me.
Ah but you do have your peoples arrogance. A twice forked tongue if it
is not thrice. It paused, then let out a draconic sigh. It levered itself
onto the elbows of its front and only limbs and turned its head to meet
my gaze with one eye. I am Vermacraus the lichdrake, and long have I
dwelled in the pits of the world. I too once was outcast and sought the
greatest heights of my own kind. It saw me here and now.
Enough, I hissed. Cutting his words short. Its words were true, damn the
egg sucking slime that it was, had become. Surely even just a drake the
beast was massive. Some injury had dealt it a blow in the past, however,
since as far as I could tell it was missing the back half of its body. A
shame that it had not lost its tongue along the way. A few breaths, a
quick slice of the hand through the air to calm myself, and my face and
heart smoothed.
So you know, very well. It has been days now of muttered imprecations,
drake. What is it that you offer.
An alliance, it said.
Preposterosity upon preposterosity. You expect me to ally with animate
leather so rotted it is not even fit to be stretched into whips for a two
fingered goblin.
I do.
The glare I shot the drake had no real heat. I was starting to outgrow
such things after all.
I know what led you here, remember. This trap, this place. It only
affords those seeking the deep histories of the past. Such knowledge as
dwells far beyond the edges of even the grasp of the dragon of old
nightmare.
Aye, and. Speak plainly. Or wait, perhaps you hesitate. You know me so
well after all, I said, shaking my head mockingly. You know such a thing
is impossible.
I do know you and know your whispers well.
Whispers, he could not mean.
You cling to them. Dealing in dark and ancient powers and dwelling in
their regard like an addict. Even if they only dwell in the very shadow
of your dreams you still cling. Like a bastard child who has finally
found a parent whose attention is ever flowing.
I paused, a swell of something that made me smirk sparking at my core.
Such arrogance in this one.
You have earned a small modicum of my respect, drake. A small one. And
it really had. He really had. Usually such great old dead things were
full of empty words of their former greatness, but here was one such that
might actually live up to the pomp. There was great comedy in finding it
in the ruins of a hole so deep in the underdark that even the rats had
forgotten its scent. Less comedy that I had been trapped in here with it.
The drow and the dragon part 2
Added Mon Mar 9 09:43:37 2026 at level 42:
What were those outlanders doing. Again I tried to invoke wind walking
and again it failed. I nodded my attention and this time paid proper heed
to its words.
Your plight is a pitiable one as I said. Born apart you sought great
prestige as was your due from your people, as was my due from my own.
Both drow and dragons are mighty and old things upon Thar Eris. Our
histories closer than you know. You, a mere foundling, and I the lowest
thing that could barely have been called a dragon. In these days I have
been watching you as we spoke. Testing, tasting too perhaps, oh yes, and
you have the same burn as I. The flame of disappointment so deep as to
betray has scorched deep.
My people, I began.
My race, it began.
They are nothing but empty shelled predators. Hollowed out by a mirage
of a former glory that may never have been. We finished together.
It smirked, I think. It was hard to tell through its rotted muzzle, but I
could not say I was not doing the same.
I will help you, he said. Help you through the dark and together we
will bring peace to our paths and if the ancients smile, bring clarity to
our respective peoples. For yours.
For mine, I continued. Demons and lies. Hatred and empty promises.
Self enslavement to self destruction. It was a heavy blow to finally
reach a city, a supposedly great city of my people, and find it ruined by
their own hands.
And for me, the drake said. The greatest of us. The mother of
catastrophes herself is little more than a chained beast. Slave to
catastrophes herself is little more than a chained beast. Slave to
slavery. A winged broodmare for tyrants who only know how to look within
instead of without.
Tiamat, I asked.
The same, he confirmed with a flash of cold light in his eye-sockets.
Only her blaze can finally put an end to this. To me...
That would explain why our first more bladed confrontation had ended in a
draw. I was unsure if his words threaded webs of deception but regardless,
I could not know without more time.
I know little of dragons, drake.
Oh, it paused. You will learn.
Notes on the drow and the dragon
Added Mon Mar 9 09:46:45 2026 at level 42:
A brief story about Dol finally reaching Teth and discovering how self
destructive his people actually are. It is something of a culmination of
his childhood naivety coming to roost when he finds out how flawed the
drow are and he has a begrudging appreciation for the fact that he grew
up on the surface and in a place which gave him the perspective to be
objective about dark elf culture. Finding himself aimless he decided to
try and discover what happened to all the glorious stories he heard of
his people and ended up trapped with a cursed drake in the Underdark for
a while. The drake that is actually undead coerces him to start hunting
dragons both to find clues and clarity in their dying breaths or amongst
their hordes more archeological pieces and to put an end to some of the
greatest slavers in Theras history that often go overlooked for the
purpose of freeing slaves. He plans to come back and put it out of its
misery when he is strong enough or has found a way to get something
equivalent to Tiamats breath held as a weapon. He and I hope this
relationship doesnt have adverse effects from the ancients taking
umbrage with a deal with an undead but if so thats just how the dice
roll
Fetishman and the Lawmaker
Added Mon Mar 16 09:40:32 2026 at level 51:
Quahaha! Good citizens. Near-do-be-well and terror fall upon you!
Oh no, the innocent citizens shouted. It is Fetishman, the finely
feathered fetisher and sworn enemy of our good and just ruler,
Lawmaker! All is lost!
Indeed, Fetishman crowed. He preened his way to the high street
where many innocent shopkeepers did business of steel, glass, and
magicks, and began his spree. Steel was bent, glass shattered, and
magicks over-magicked to an inappropriate hum and throb such that it
was made unsafe for children. Much screaming called out to the
surrounding countryside for many a minute as Fetishman tweeted his
accolades of punishing the good people for living good and just lives
outside of the naturity of Thar-Eris. But there he was, in a dazzling
burst of judicial office memos!
Near-do-be-bad, is that the tyrannical musk of the 9 to 9 work day I
smell?
It is I! Indeed, Lawmaker. Ruler of these fine people, and I do decree
that you, Fetishman, are a vagabond and outlaw.
Perhaps so, Fetishman cawed. But you are too late! I have already
vandalized this town and will do the same to the next and the next!
And the next!!!!!!!
No you will not, Lawmaker said coolly as he put on his lawfully
appointed alabaster hat of truth and peace.
Oh, Fetishman bluejayed. How do you intend to stop me?
First, Lawmaker said, I will undo your works like this. He then
looked at the innocent people, who only had love in their eyes for the
law, and spoke. I decree that today never happened. Your shops and
goods are saved. By the stroke of the pen, let it be so.
And with the power of his legislation intact, so it was. The steel was
unbent, the glass unshattered, the magicks set back to an appropriate
level of throbbing that would be safe for children under 12 to view
but not handle.
Fool, Fetishman larked. You have only reset the sun to its dawn. I
will simply do all of this once again on the morrow.
No you will not, decreed the Lawmaker. And with the speed of
workplace gossip he gave the signal, and then the righteous band of
lawmen took possession of the distant fetish and brought it out from
its place of power and into the light of just governance, where its
potency was utterly drained.
Qua-NooOoooo! Now that the fetish has been disrupted, I can no longer
vandalize these shops. My talons are simply too weak to scratch or
shove these flimsy paper display stands over without the fantastical
power of my finely festooned fetish. I am defeated.
Fetishman and the Lawmaker given context
Added Mon Mar 16 09:44:35 2026 at level 51:
===
That doesnt make any sense.
Dont think about it too hard.
But how does taking some magic item away make it impossible to
ransack a store?
I glared at the child.
It is just a story. One which you stole from my hollow and now you are
complaining?
complaining?
The dark-elf boy clutched at his *sister*. A Svirfnebli. Both were two
of the more recent rescues from the green dragon of the hills I had
successfully slain. I was pretty sure the deep gnome was a fully grown
woman who simply acted the child due to some past suffering but I was
never good at telling age on those round gray faces.
So, what story is next, the boy bravely asked.
I began rolling the small booklet into a stiff rod of paper. The
children took one look then ran at the threat of punishment.
===
Genuinely I think Vandalize is my favourite ability in the game. I
nearly cried with happiness when I used it for the first time and
frankly Im not sure how Im going to do without it on future
characters. This story served as a good way to rib the game about its
absurd realities at times but also to punctuate Dolzorin's growth. he
Is now a master ranger and dragon slayer. After witnessing a Fela
ranger too weak to work against him in ruined Maethien and having
people fight back to back with him he has admitted to himself with
some embarrassment that he doesn't think he's ever really had allies
before the way the outlanders has afforded him. Neitehr has he been
exposed to someone obviously weaker than him trying to oppose him so
openly. He is cautiously mentoring some of the rescues from his
dragon hunts to.
1. Not to underestimate others just because their weak.
2. To increase the likelihood of loyal allies in the future by
starting them young. He can't deny the truth that life is just too
much easier to live with people watching your back than not and
tentatively is wary and silently greatful to the whispers of the
tentatively is wary and silently greatful to the whispers of the
ancients that have led him to this point.
As for his search for the secrets of how the drow became what they are
and how to fix it. That continues as he is yet to plunder every dragon
horde he knows off for ancient secrets.
Dragon's end
Added Sat Apr 18 00:56:05 2026 at level 51:
Some stories are long, dragging affairs with lots of twists, drama, and
salacious red intestine to twine about one's neck to squeeze out the angst.
This one... not so much.
"Where are you, dark elf!"
The roar of the drake above us was loud, predictable, and only a little sweet.
"You look sad," said the woman across from me as she tossed the dice, the
clatter of them echoing in the bunker we had taken up in.
"Aye, and what of it," Dolzorin groused. "Fabulous as my face is, this too is
an expression it performs with sensuous ease, do you not think."
"Father," Folzastrae chided. The elf maid of 100 and 28 seeming three times
her age in that moment as she tried to mother me.
"Dolzorin!" A pained, wrathful sound from above as stone shattered in the
conflict above. From here, the snapping of bones, large and small, sounded
like the popping of twigs in a fire.
"Mother me not, maid. You're not so young that I won't take you over my knee."
She gave me a look full of promise, and Dolzorin grunted. He knew he would
partake, he always did when she offered, but even he had a soul about such
things. A former ally, a friend of sorts, was dying above by his own
machinations, and to pleasure himself with this former foundling during it...
far too crass for his sensibilities.
"20 years a slave to this Teth house has made you twisted more than even I
like. Remind me again why I do not strip and scatter you into the wilds of the
underdark?"
"Because you love us, you do all your foundlings."
A lie, well kept these 300 years, but Dolzorin smiled. His sly one that was
truth to him more than almost everyone assumed. He had often heard that the
best way to deceive was to give truth with only a sprinkling of falsehood, he
much preferred the opposite. Her returning smile was satisfied, safe. It told
him she truly believed, and the response almost made him shake his head. Was
life meant to be hard? He thought not when so much of it fell easily into his
over-talented hands.
"It is a time to be sad," he said. "When 200 years and more have passed with
no fruit, even the long-lived must see that enough costs have been sunk. And
Verm... this drake has sunk deeper than a Kuo-toa's madness."
A questioning look on her lovely face. A snort from the dark-elf ranger.
"Irony breeds irony that it is you that I used for this. But yet you redeem
yourself a little," He raised two fingers a sliver's length apart. "Just a
little."
"A bit harsh, don't you think," she said.
"Harsh," Dolzorin replied with a disgusted scoff. "Harsh is spending a decade
raising you from the broken thing I found you as, only for you to go running
right back into slavery when I turn my back."
"Some people do not do well with freedom. You knew this, you know this," she
insisted. "And I am still useful to you, am I not."
The roars came no more, the screams had died down above, and the pair went
silent, listening for one last gasp or clack of bolt on scales.
Dragon's end part 2
Added Sat Apr 18 01:06:10 2026 at level 51:
"The drake had the audacity to lie to me, and even the dark ancients, old as
they are, do not hold infinite patience."
"Lied how," she asked, tracing fingers over the branding up her arm. A
beautiful length of ownership that, dark-elf made, held much artistry. He
found it an utterly revolting habit.
The girl had grown up without ever gaining a sense of will. Ask her to make a
decision and she would dither, tell her to strangle a babe in its crib and
slender elven fingers would cut themselves on undeveloped vertebrae.
"Like you with your innocent pale eyes, the drake held much promise in the
beginning of our association. And like you, the gains to be had were few and
fleeting."
"Oh," she began, a sly look of her own coming over her features, but I cut a
hand through the air.
"Enough of that, girl, enough. It seems the lizard is dead, and so with it my
use for you for a time. You ought go back to your masters before you are
missed and I go see what gems are revealed in the drake's corpse."
At the questioning look on Folzastrae's face, he paused.
"Ah, I did not tell you, did I? The drake knew all along that what I sought
was power. Power enough to know the truth of these tunnels we inhabit. That
power, as with all dragons, is not theirs to keep. From the will of the gods
were we molded, but it is her womb that brings us forth. These sources of
power, dragons gather in their treasures and metal, greed for her metal, her
power that I will return to her and in the doing, slick my path to discover
what for. Not all souls are made equal and I will see what is revealed when,
like the adamantine I return, Thar-Eris is nourished with the gems that are
the souls of the greatest wyrms."
Dragon's end commentary
Added Sat Apr 18 01:24:38 2026 at level 51:
As Tiamat remained out of reach for several hundred years, Dolzorin began to
grow suspicious. The drake he had partnered with kept leading them on
diversions: kill this dragon, take its hoard. Kill that noble with a draconic
artifact, take the amulet. He was not sure what winding path the drake was
leading him on, but it suited him. He gained many foundlings, and some of
them, like the woman detailed in this story, did not take well to the
outlander way of life. She had been too far broken in her younger years and
had no aptitude to live without a master. Eventually Dolzorin discovered that
age-old truth that power is power and, after a small, probably inconsequential
phrase in a talk with Ergush about the Underdark, he had gotten it into his
head, probably not entirely wrongly, that dragon souls and their hoarding
behaviour are tied. Greed and the souls of dragons, he thinks, are suitable
sacrifices to entice the spirits in the deep earth into some level of activity
so he can begin a path of understanding the Underdark's nature and why it is
different from the surface in such a stark way.
He set up the drake to be killed with soul-capturing weapons with the help of
a former foundling in Teth and enjoyed the destruction the fight left to the
city, and has gone hunting for methods to sacrifice dragon souls in the
deepest parts of the Underdark.
That comment, by the way, may it be immortalized here for all time as it is in
Dolzorin's mind, he found insightful but also entirely perverted, and I will
definitely be playing into this theme in the future.
"To answer Dolzorin, inside Her body is less flexible than Her beauty on top.
Perhaps Dolzorin might find places to entice the spirits below?"
Honestly, the balls on this fella. Keep it PG, my guy.
But thanks. I was kind of stuck where
the story should go from here and this convo provided a fresh
new take.
ash
Added Wed Apr 29 07:15:43 2026 at level 51:
If the world began from the void and might one day return to it, then in the
midst of its heaving and groaning, all that must exist is fire. The power had
been gathered, the sacrifices made. Bone carved, flesh tended, and in the pit
from so long ago, where the drake had been held, appeasement to the ancients
had been given.
"Bless me," I called to them. "Bless this," I demanded. It is not the way of a
reaver to beg, even to the things that skitter and scrape in whispers at the
back of his own mind.
Into a bone coffer went the most precious offerings. The item itself
carved from the breastbone of Siranduhl, the dragon of nightmares. The closest
bone to the heart, and the most potent for this kind of ritual. With it went
the talisman, imbued with potent death to hold the essences of dragons slain
by my hand for the last 100 years, using an item of power, a scroll only found
in those far mountains of Thar Acacia. For only the past can bind the past,
the future leaks as blood does from the wound we carve in the present.
I thought myself ready, this place ready. Neither were.
The essences rebelled, of course. An attempt to wake the animism of this place
by brutal, violent impact. Natural magic was no magic of mages. It was not
calculated or written down, and not a thing to be studied or understood. It is
instinct, and death, and sex, and violence. It is penetration and gore. A
filthy face risen from the muck to crumble in tears at the beauty of the
rising sun.
It is the digging of my fingers into my scalp as the essence overtakes me. The
caustic rage of a dozen dragons flowing through me, flowing through the coffer
into the stone of the Underdark. The pain as I belch white hot flame to cook
my own throat. The gorge rising smell of cooking flesh as my rampage slays
most of the latest crop of foundlings. The grief as I decimate the caverns in
a rampage. The hollow as I sit on the shores of an Underdark lake, my Underdark
lake, and watch the ash of former pupils, former children, float lazily among
its eddies.
Ash part 2
Added Wed Apr 29 07:17:46 2026 at level 51:
I am no animist, and this was a failure. I had attempted to wake something
deep in the womb of Thar Eris, and I did, I think.
I am no animist. The spirits do not talk to me as they do some others. I only
know their bare whispers, their torment, and at the end of this all, I have
left is my pride. Seek aid among my allies. No. None of them are me, none of
them dark elf. None of them blessed to be superior, none of them cursed with
this loneliness. A curse that I will, and have, molded into strength, for I am
deadly in great bounds, but this problem, that of the quieting of the natural
spirits in the Underdark, is not one that can be killed.
Enough, then. This path is closed to me. A different sort of power is what I
need. Animism. Perhaps. I know not. But I am no old cripple yet, and will
never give this up. The world blessed me to be dark elf. My hands blessed me
to be the deadliest thing in a cavern. Greatness can only follow from this
disaster.
Commentary on Ash
Added Wed Apr 29 07:24:21 2026 at level 51:
Dolzorin suffers something of a setback in his goal to wake some portion of
the Underdark to animism, as the surface is. Of course, in his view, the best
way to make something happen is to attack it. His idea was to bind dragon
essences to a location where a dragon had already spent a great deal of time
in the Underdark, then unleash their rage into the earth. Instead, he was
possessed and went on a rampage, killing most of his current crop of
foundlings and pondering melancholically what it all meant. I had a real hard
time figuring out how such a prideful person would process grief, and I think
it tracks that it would drive him further into a state of extreme self
reliance, forcing him to prove that even his failures can be undone by some
great act of achievement by his own hands in the future. Here, he realizes he
is deficient in the animism required, though his hundreds of years of honoring
his venom totem have taught him that not everything is determined by how you
start. He and I will make an effort to seek out as much animism as can be
afforded to him, to see where that path leads moving forward.
Perfection.
Added Wed May 6 19:46:57 2026 at level 51:
I have always sought perfection, even from my earliest days. I did not need the
woman who half raised, half used me to push me into it, and indeed, even as she
did so for her own gain, I took to the temperament as a fish does to water. Yet
as I skip this rock across the surface of my lake, once again clear of ash, and
listen to the echoes of a new crop of foundlings, I mull over some of my very
few failures over the years.
All of my varied deaths are easy to recount. Whenever I aid someone else, I die.
Whether that be the golden hunter Lithrella in her ill fated attempt to avoid
the guardians of Thar Acacia, or the others of the tree against the orcs when I
was much younger, the pattern holds. Life for those of us cursed with sapience
is always such, is it not. Certain truths are made evident to us again and
again, but we fight them regardless, because these truths reality saddles us
with are sometimes only a choice in the degrees of suffering. Will it be pain,
or will it be agony. What a crock of dung.
I am the deadliest thing in these caves, and this cannot be denied. Dragons,
duergar, serpents, and great beasts of the deep, I have defeated them all. Yet
distract me with the chaos of the surface, and my foot never seems to step quite
right.
Alone, I am perfection. And yet... and yet, if I choose that path truly, if I go my
own way and keep to my caves, where a decade can pass in silence, no one else
will know my greatness. That, I think, is even more unbearable.
***
A small note written on his wall as Dolzorin realizes that, bar one exception,
all of his deaths have come whenever he fights on behalf of things other than
himself. He has seemingly never died on solo hunts against heroes or monsters
in his many adult years. Not even the dark ancients whispering in his mind
seem to refute this, and it is something he struggles with, given his innate
self interest.
My role is
Added Sat May 9 03:18:53 2026 at level 51:
A Hunter?
500 years. 500 years of life, and I have achieved true greatness by any
measure. A dreadlord of the empire, a pinnacle grade conjurer of the spire.
These two have fallen to me in the swift and deadly fashion in which I was
trained. Others have died in concert with my fellow outlanders. I have fought
and defended the tree, sometimes two against one, in favor of the enemy. Orcs
know not to come if I roam the surface unless they outnumber me 3 to 1. They
may give me silly nicknames, but their fear is obvious. Indeed, can anyone else
say they have fought Siranduhl. Have killed that drake with no help from ally
or minion, and skinned its corpse?
Yes, at times I am aware that I may embellish myself, my appearance, but never
do I do so with my deeds. Pride is not found in self deception, but in the
appreciation of ones true value. So no, many have called me a hunter, but I am
not a hunter. 500 years, and I cannot say I have ever hunted a single thing.
Most adventurers of the refuge have this veneer of wildness. A coded language
of savagery they pretend to themselves, so as not to be left out of the group.
At times it is comically thin, and I often drop the pretense when I find it
onerous.
The cycle this, feeding the tree that, blah blah blah. I was not born in the
wilderness. I do not sleep in mud. I carve bones and whittle staves, and make
beauty of violence. In some ways I am the most unfaithful of the trees limbs,
but so long as my left blade rises with the power of the sun and my right falls
with the silence of the moon, I have no fear that any of the ancients will find
me wanting.
I might smile like a dandy and primp like a courtesan, but they know me. The
whispers in my mind have never dulled these centuries. They know my needs
within and wants without, and it is by their guidance that I have found where
my recent melancholy ends.
I have made mistakes as well. Vermacraus, and a death to the orcs. Thar
Acacia, judgments whilst chasing enemies. Missed thrusts to secure a victory,
missed and most embarrassing of all. Trusting in magic to save me, which failed
and ended in a death to those most disgusting of foes.
In the midst which lay between those victories and my most embarrassing losses
is what I am.
...to be the rapacious thorn
Added Sat May 9 03:31:23 2026 at level 51:
My deeds are a living record of centuries long pain to my enemies. It was that
fight with the pitborn lion witch that did it. We had clashed before, true, but
this time was different. Four times we fought. Up and down the refuges ramp.
Down into the deep wood. Across the trails and into the manor. Back up, slammed
down into wood splintering brutality. Our battle even took us across the ocean
and into the jade hills. This dance if I could call it that, was likely one
of a kind. I will remember it always, for it taught me the struggle. I drove
the witch to die. Drove someone who regularly slays those considered strong,
and yet, I felt such a deep satisfaction at the defense of the tree, more than
I did for her actual death.
So no, I am no hunter. I do not think I can consider myself truly even a
warrior. I slay dragons. I repel our foes. I heal our wounds. I raise
foundlings. I am a thorn to my enemies, a boon to my allies. I reave the night
for those things that do not belong, for many outside her womb pretend to know
darkness, but the true horrors know to fear me. My pride is found in those
things that result in pain to my enemies, in succor to those under my favor.
The actions themselves, the slice, the cut, the wracking bloody breath as I
crawl out from under yet another dead dragon, these actions themselves are as
water to me.
Dolzorin Dromred
Master defender
Added Sun May 10 00:10:31 2026 at level 51:
After his reflection and his period of melancholy, Dolzorin has found
himself overflowing with pride. He has found a new, relaxed stride to his
step and feels himself worthy, more than worthy even, to call himself the
greatest defender of the Tree. As such, he begins pursuing recognition in
the faith of Ergush. After all, who else does more to protect the Huntress
and the Tree.
Who else will run across continents to fetch talismans to
shield her from magic. Who else stays for days to heal her after she
successfully repels an attack. Who else takes so much pride in her work
that he refuses to let her die out of convenience, just so he can gain a
more likely kill at the spirit instead.
The struggle here will be living long enough to achieve that recognition
from the nature god, as he feels his many ventures and fights have not left
him with that much life in him. But as he relishes such things as struggle,
this only spurs him on to begin making offerings at the shrine and seeing
if such power and wisdom as can be gained will lead him closer to a better
understanding of the animism that drives the surface. His study of the lost
island has only taught him that the Moon plays a strong part in such
things. It makes sense to him that, since the light of the Moon never
reaches the Underdark, this is a portion of what Ergush was alluding to
with his comments about flexibility.
Finding faith
Added Sat May 16 05:25:43 2026 at level 51:
At the beginning of his religious journey, Dolzorin found himself surprised by
the mundanity of this new path. When Ergush tasked him with killing lawmen,
his expression did not change, but internally he blinked. Had he not been
doing that already. Well, he would not complain about an easy task, and as
expected, within a matter of days he had slain the provost and another of the
Spire with his usual efficiency.
He was told the first law. Only the strong survive. Words so obvious that he
thought they need never be spoken, but this Dark elf was a true scion of his
people, arrogance and all. A part of him wanted to revel in the realization
that his life had begun to circle. As in his youth, he was in a place where he
excelled beyond most in certain areas because of the innate gifts of his
people, and now it seemed he was returning to that state. Still, he had grown
more cautious. He wanted to revel in his own superiority, but he knew better
than to trust that feeling completely.
On the other hand, there was something of a bitter taste in his mouth over
this new path. To supplicate for religion. It was submission, was it not. An
admission of imperfection.
"But what is perfect in nature." A small, startling thought spoke at the back
of his head. He supposed that the cycle was imperfection in truth. A wheel
purpose built to break and break again, so it might go from strength to
strength. The weak were left behind, and, and only the strong survive. He
sighed as he was forced to recognize that truths, even the simplest ones,
seemed to hold worthwhile insights even after all these years.
Interlude, The double thrust low.
Added Thu Jun 4 06:00:03 2026 at level 51:
My blades went up, then down, then up once again. The first warrior slipped
past me in a stumble. The second froze as my crimson orbs met his in a
serpentine stare that chilled his blood, a technique I liked to call the
dragon eye. It was so called for its draconic ability to paralyze my opponents
with fear of their impending death. And the third, what was she even doing.
She crouched, thrusting her blades in a double stab at my legs. Shaking my
head, I twisted. Up and out went one leg, the other limb firmly planted
through the move. Her blades passed on either side of that leg. My other heel
found her face in an axe kick that smashed down and in, ankle curled to crush
her face into the stone.
"So what was that supposed to be," I asked.
The stupid woman mangled some words into the stone.
"The what," I asked. "The double thrust blow."
I punctuated the question with a casual backswing of my elbow into the frozen
male behind me, breaking his paralysis and sending him sprawling back in a
"Silly woman, are we flirting or fighting. Though, oftentimes I do admit a
mood does not distinguish between the two."
The woman took a breath as I took a step back and let her head up.
"The double thrust low," she explained. "It is a standard maneuver to reset
momentum because it has no counter."
I stared at her. "It had no counter," she relented. "But, Master, what you did
was stupid. Had I known you would leave yourself open like that, I could have
sliced upward and disembowelled you."
"A stupid maneuver with a stupid name," I said.
"Maybe, but it is efficient," she said.
"And in that efficiency, you become predictable. This is why you swordsmen
will always lose out here in the Underdark. Embrace the true inheritance of
our people and throw away that efficiency nonsense. Battle is a river, and if
you fight its flow with rigid fisher feed like that, you will just end up as
food for the crawlers. Or for me, I would say."
Interlude - The double thrust low - commentary
Added Thu Jun 4 06:04:17 2026 at level 51:
A brief step back to look at the rapport between Dolzorin and the rest of his
people. As an outlander, he often found himself at odds with dark elf
settlements and groups due to their reliance on adamantine. With a few
disparate groups, like House Nel'zikahn, he eventually came to something of an
understanding. He would train their warriors, and in exchange, he would be
paid in adamantine weapons that he would then return to Thar Eris. This
agreement was reached only after a few years of Dolzorin simply killing house
soldiers and taking their weapons to make a point, but he ended up preferring
this arrangement as he mellowed over the years.
When he first gained his true inheritance all those years ago, he had a
childish wish to join his people in all the glory and depraved ways he had
heard about during his youth. But after finding true strength at the refuge,
he went through various stages.
First, he tried to be something of a savior to
his people, to show them a better path. Then, when this failed, he tried to
teach by killing his lessons into them. Now, he has gained some small amount
of nuance in how best to effect change. A turning point in his character,
helped by his experience raising the many foundlings he has rescued over the
years from the dragons he kills.
hate
Added Thu Jun 18 04:02:50 2026 at level 51:
Savoring the scar in his back from Ershas, Dolzorin is forced to
consider the topic of motivation. Hate is where he comes to. The cool,
seething emotion he's carried over the years. He has stroked it,
cultivated it like a lover. Found a soothing peace in its midst as he
watches his enemies writhe.
The kingpin of Galadon made the point to offer some paltry words.
Something like, "Just because we both fight a common enemy does not mean
I will ignore your evil." His evil? He thinks with a laugh. The evil
that has been reaping the night for centuries before this human boy was
born. His darkness that has been slaying nightmares that would melt the
minds of entire towns were they to pass his blade. These folk of the
light lack conviction. Never coming into the trees or the true night to
see where the real darknesses are. The best he can say for them is that
they serve as modest fodder for lesser dangers to chew through, which
suits him just fine.
He has been previously, embarrassed by the fortress's attempts to track him.
Every ranger from those white halls he's ever seen barely explores the
wilds. One of them outright refused to step into the wastes to fight
him.
He finds it a shame that more people don't understand the power they are
passing over. There is such strength in hatred. It has kept him burning
and killing, burning and killing the Spire for all this time, and it all
started from Zindlup and Draekenhurr making sport of him. Chasing him
all over the surface and treating him like a toy with mocking words when
he was young. From pettiness, discontent, from discontent, disdain, and
from there it grew.
He hopes to pass off this understanding to as many people as he can.
There is a distinct dearth of support for it, after all. Poets and
scholars write about love through the ages. Very few explore how hate
can keep a flame burning for longer.
elves, animism, the end of the longest hunt.
Added Thu Jun 18 04:38:31 2026 at level 51:
A quest begun 300 years ago has finally percolated into something
credible as he watches and sees that the wood elves of Evermoon,
Darsylon, and those others of the high elven homeland have also been
infiltrated by their own darkness. His focus, however, is on how even
the elven people as a whole have drifted away from Thar-Eris.
All through history, high, wood, and dark elves build cities that
offend her. All three have, at some point, utilized adamantine, and yes,
there are still a lot of elves that serve Thar-Eris's will, but this,
alongside the mysteries of the Underdark, seem linked. A natural part
of the cycle that squirms away from the light of day and understanding.
He observes how, of the three elven peoples, the dark elves are
undeniably the most adrift from Thar-Eris. The way that the closer one
draws to magic as a people, and demonic magic especially, the worse the
spirits of animism can be aligned with you.
Considering his study and understanding of the moon thus far, and the
old lore of how the gods warned elves not to enter the Underdark, it may
be that the world below was never made as a place to support the gods'
creations. After all, where one being's branches might give life, the
roots may poison one to death.
As he draws close to the end of his hunt in these latter days of his
life, he grudgingly admits he must pass this work on, but has found
peace in the fact that after all this time he has finally found a small
part of the answer to why the Underdark is so different. Why his people
are so beset by curses, even if those same curses have brought them
great struggle and thus strength.
The Underdark is something of a poisonous root for sapient life. A
different world entirely that serves a purpose separate from where
mortals were meant to live. Dwarves, duergar, svirfneblin, and even his
own people are wrong to keep claiming those caverns as a place to live,
to be civilized, or to be changed. So he hopes one of his foundlings
might take up his life's record and perhaps begin a new hunt. One to
discourage such efforts by these races to occupy such a place.
a life well lived he thinks to himself.
A mystery worth the wax.
PK Wins
Apr 5, 2026 |Lv 51|Subterranean Spire|Caserque vs 1: [51] Dolzorin (100%, chop)
Apr 5, 2026 |Lv 51|Underdark|Zakaro vs 4: [51] Dolzorin (12%, surprise attack), [51] Darh (20%), [51] Yoglolthen (40%), [51] Boogum (25%)
Apr 6, 2026 |Lv 51|The Outlander Refuge|Gophus vs 2: [51] Dolzorin (64%), [51] Darh (35%, claw)
Apr 14, 2026|Lv 51|The Outlander Refuge|Malthis vs 3: [40] Mhaevor (0%), [51] Dolzorin (39%), [51] Ffaelda (60%, )
Apr 14, 2026|Lv 51|Teth Azeleth|Illquorin vs 1: [51] Dolzorin (100%, slash)
Apr 19, 2026|Lv 51|Forest of Prosimy|Dexamus vs 2: [51] Dolzorin (55%), [51] Yoglolthen (44%, peck)
Apr 19, 2026|Lv 51|Mansion of Twilight|Zindlup vs 3: [51] Ffaelda (17%), [51] Dolzorin (15%), [51] Yoglolthen (67%, KB)
Apr 23, 2026|Lv 51|Northern Foothills|Jurysvina vs 1: [51] Dolzorin (100%, thrust)
Apr 23, 2026|Lv 51|Forest of Prosimy|Malthis vs 3: [47] Mhaevor (19%, reverberating blast), [51] Yoglolthen (28%), [51] Dolzorin (52%)
Apr 24, 2026|Lv 51|Forest of Prosimy|Persus vs 1: [51] Dolzorin (100%, pugil strike)
Apr 26, 2026|Lv 51|Forest of Prosimy|Tobbins vs 2: [51] Dolzorin (0%), [51] Lithrella (100%, misdirection)
Apr 26, 2026|Lv 51|Forest of Prosimy|Yusho vs 2: [51] Dolzorin (36%, thrust), [51] Lithrella (63%)
Apr 27, 2026|Lv 51|Forest of Prosimy|Zille vs 1: [51] Dolzorin (100%, KB)
May 11, 2026|Lv 51|Forest of Prosimy|Zille vs 1: [51] Dolzorin (100%, serpent strike)
May 14, 2026|Lv 51|Galadon|Malthis vs 3: [51] Dolzorin (4%), [51] Lithrella (30%, smash), [51] Baltinar (65%)
May 14, 2026|Lv 51|Forest of Prosimy|Elereaux vs 3: [51] Dolzorin (0%), [51] Lithrella (45%, parting blow), [51] Baltinar (54%)
May 14, 2026|Lv 51|Forest of Prosimy|Elereaux vs 3: [51] Baltinar (8%), [51] Dolzorin (19%), [51] Lithrella (72%, chop)
May 15, 2026|Lv 51|The Outlander Refuge|Tego vs 1: [51] Dolzorin (100%, smash)
May 16, 2026|Lv 51|Aran'gird|Kukumon vs 1: [51] Dolzorin (100%, surprise attack)
May 18, 2026|Lv 51|Underdark|Kostyara vs 1: [51] Dolzorin (100%, slash)
May 19, 2026|Lv 51|The Imperial Palace|Frogki vs 2: [51] Dolzorin (15%), [51] Baltinar (84%, gore)
May 24, 2026|Lv 51|Forest of Prosimy|Drogduz vs 2: [51] Dolzorin (28%, surprise attack), [51] Baltinar (71%)
May 29, 2026|Lv 51|The Ruins of Ostalagiah|Bikbuk vs 1: [51] Dolzorin (100%, thrust)
May 31, 2026|Lv 51|The Outlander Refuge|Durgloth vs 1: [51] Dolzorin (100%, blazing slash)
Jun 4, 2026 |Lv 51|The Outlander Refuge|Malthis vs 2: [51] Stremmorr (37%), [51] Dolzorin (62%, powerful stab)
Jun 10, 2026|Lv 51|The Jade Mountains|Lyise vs 1: [51] Dolzorin (100%, thrust)
Jun 17, 2026|Lv 51|Mansion of Twilight|Malthis vs 3: [51] Decayn (46%, electrical discharge), [51] Cailleachan (24%), [51] Dolzorin (29%)
Jun 17, 2026|Lv 51|Forest of Prosimy|Cindarious vs 5: [51] Ffaelda (6%, KB), [51] Dolzorin (0%), [44] Nikael (15%), [51] Cailleachan (34%), [51] Decayn (42%)
Jun 18, 2026|Lv 51|Forest of Prosimy|Malthis vs 2: [51] Jillianna (12%), [51] Dolzorin (87%, surprise attack)
Jun 18, 2026|Lv 51|The Outlander Refuge|Malthis vs 3: [51] Dolzorin (21%), [51] Lithrella (66%, searing light), [51] Yoglolthen (11%)
Jun 18, 2026|Lv 51|Forest of Prosimy|Malthis vs 3: [51] Yoglolthen (14%, peck), [51] Jillianna (5%), [51] Dolzorin (80%)
Jun 18, 2026|Lv 51|Mansion of Twilight|Malthis vs 3: [51] Jillianna (15%, crush), [51] Yoglolthen (41%), [51] Dolzorin (42%)
Jun 18, 2026|Lv 51|Forest of Prosimy|Malthis vs 1: [51] Dolzorin (100%, venomous slash)
Jun 18, 2026|Lv 51|Forest of Prosimy|Malthis vs 1: [51] Dolzorin (100%, surprise attack)
Jun 21, 2026|Lv 51|The Outlander Refuge|Malthis vs 2: [51] Wulonan (52%, torments), [51] Dolzorin (47%)
Jun 21, 2026|Lv 51|Forest of Prosimy|Werargroir vs 2: [51] Dolzorin (23%, venomous slash), [51] Wulonan (76%)
Jun 24, 2026|Lv 51|Forest of Prosimy|Durgloth vs 2: [51] Schnesgeda (51%, KB), [51] Dolzorin (48%)
Jun 26, 2026|Lv 51|Forest of Prosimy|Idedodine vs 3: [51] Wulonan (4%), [51] Dolzorin (11%), [51] Baltinar (83%, claw)
PK Deaths
Feb 27, 2026|Lv 21|Forest of Prosimy|vs 1: [27] Vhulgazmorii (100%, caustic smash)
Mar 1, 2026 |Lv 30|The Spire of the Blood Tribunal|vs 1: [36] Aegus (100%, burst of energy)
Mar 12, 2026|Lv 45|The Violet Woodland|vs 1: [51] Dondonxa (100%, KB)
Mar 20, 2026|Lv 51|Domain of Eternal Night|vs 1: [51] Vaexa (100%, blackfire nova)
Mar 20, 2026|Lv 51|Feanwyyn Weald|vs 1: [51] Brufous (100%, shield jab)
Mar 22, 2026|Lv 51|The Wastes of Nonviel|vs 1: [51] Quillan (100%, poison)
Mar 26, 2026|Lv 51|The Jade Mountains|Dolzorin committed suicide
Apr 4, 2026 |Lv 51|Ruins of Maethien|vs 1: [51] Zindlup (100%, claw)
Apr 4, 2026 |Lv 51|Grinning Skull Village|vs 2: [51] Gozetharg (100%, stab), [50] Snakho (0%)
Apr 19, 2026|Lv 51|Grinning Skull Village|vs 1: [51] Gozetharg (100%, cleave)
Apr 23, 2026|Lv 51|Forest of Prosimy|vs 1: [51] Dondonxa (100%, KB)
Apr 23, 2026|Lv 51|Hamsah Mu'tazz|vs 2: [51] Yusho (4%), [49] Naicri (95%, hit)
Apr 29, 2026|Lv 51|Grinning Skull Village|vs 2: [46] Gilgormosh (38%), [51] Gozetharg (61%, defilement)
May 19, 2026|Lv 51|The Imperial Lands|vs 2: [51] Raevyn (54%, divine power), [51] Talsier (45%)
May 27, 2026|Lv 51|The Shadow Grove|vs 1: [51] Kallara (100%, KB)
Jun 2, 2026 |Lv 51|Underdark|vs 1: [51] Kallara (100%, KB)
Jun 25, 2026|Lv 51|Feanwyyn Weald|vs 1: [51] Idedodine (100%, sting)
Jun 26, 2026|Lv 51|Forest of Prosimy|vs 1: [51] Idedodine (100%, )
Jun 27, 2026|Lv 51|The Pyramid of Azhan|Dolzorin committed suicide