Description
A fair countenance of slightly darkened skin peers at you from beneath a
heavy cowl, two pinpoint twilight orbs peering, glistening, in your direction
from the depths of the shadows encompassing a smooth, unmarred visage. Two
hollows ellipses dent each cheak, the high, pronounced bone of royal lineage,
marred by a thick nose and rounded chin that belies the weight of human
blood. Two thin, oxygen deprived lips lay pursed together, purple and
foreboding in their appearance of death, as this young half-drow focuses upon
you. The thick robes that adorn the lithe form of this being do not seem to
inhibit the natural suppleness that is the mark of his higher linneage,
though his muscular frame refuses to yield to the impression of weakness, as
he carries himself with a maniacly devoted pride. Upon his hip he carries a
sheathed sword, ending any debate of his abilitiy and agility, and furthuring
your impression of his rounded knowledge of the necessities in the struggle
for life. Despite his pensive demeanor, and intense gaze, he seems well at
ease within his surroundings, observing the commotion about him with a cool
detachment. Looking closer, you are able to discern that...
Role
Drezulok Zithin
Added Sun Feb 29 19:23:46 2004 at level 23:
History:
He was an undisciplined child, intelligent though easily distracted from the
book lessons he suffered through for countless years. His proctor's yielded
similar testaments of his uncanny ability to discern their failings, no
matter the subject of the lesson. His preferance for confrontation belied
the untamed rage of a youthful young man, embittered by the trappings of his
human blood. It was through such confrontation that his rage would find a
means to breach the amassing ocean and spill out upon the plane of mortality.
He was quickly noticed by the Galadon guild of Necromancy, where he found,
not with a bit of conflict, the discipline necessary to become proficient in
managing both his hatred for his fate, and any who might look down upon him
for his blood. Having proven his potential, he was released into the world
to test his mettle, as well as exploring the truth of his nature.
Fate/Time
Within fate, there exists an order, governed by the inevitable passing of
time. The truth of mortality is revealed within the definition of existence,
individual fate the result of the times that have come before, and the time
that will follow, leaving the particpant the choice, only, to listen to their
will. It is perhaps the most insurmountable fact of existence, mortality,
but not one that lies trapped within the walls of impossibility. Time has
provided this young half-drow with the chance to become a true master of his
own Fate, a victor over both the inevitability of death, and the shortcomings
of his bloodline, within the mastery of his art.
Time: An inevitable passing of lives, each one decided by a clock, counting
down unknown minutes, seconds, and moments before Fate enforces its
omnipotent decree.
Fate: The master of existence, the selector of detailed ingredients,
providing a table with the metaphoric cornucopia. It is a feast prepared for
the heavens, each morsel suculent and mouthwatering, devoured by a Pantheon
that will remember the perfection of their creation but it will never exist
again. They return to the table, at another time, another feast to savor and
remember.
The path to Becoming:
Added Sat Mar 20 06:19:49 2004 at level 47:
Having achieved a level of mastery within his guild that few have been able
to attain, Drezulok begins to wage the inevtiable war that has been brewing
throughout the passing days of his existence. He attacks the books of the
Theran writings with a relish that does not go unnoticed, and as he sits
listening to the words of a well travelled muse, a Dark Lord chooses to make
an appearance, blessing the young magus with a few words of wisdom.
Having learned as much as the writings of history will provide him, Drezulok
set out to speak with the Imperial Dread Lord Gulthruck, as he was advised to
do, to learn of a land where he might find a means of performing the ritual
necessary to accomplish his victory against the fate of his mortality. He
was unprepared for the nature of the being which he was told to seek out,
having dedicated his life to observing the immense power of order. A
delerious cleric, as unpredictable as chaos itself, was not in his plans.
Further, when a Vindicator of his spire learned of his plans, a violent
argument erupted within the walls of the Spire, nearly coming to blows.
Despite these new misgivings, there can be no yielding on this chosen path.
While many of his predecessors chose to await their dying days to chance
their fate among the undead, Drezulok cannot but think that there is no
reason to allow the inevitability of death draw nearer to him than he should
allow. His victory will either be complete, or not at all. With his resolve
steeled, he gathers together his army, and sets out upon his path into a far
land dominated by the negative plane he has become ever more familiar with.