Description
Standing before is a dark-skinned, 6 foot tall male Human. His dark-black
hair is long and hangs messily about his face, which only seems to contrast
against his almost heavily tanned skin. His eyes too are nearly black in
colour, but the whites around them are covered in red veins. Looking down at
his mouth you notice it seems to twitch in and out of a lopsided grin.
Glancing away from his face, you see his body is quite long and wiry in
stature. Whilst not as solid as his human brothers, you see he is not weak.
What little bulk he has is tightly wound and knotted muscle, clearly defined
on his lean body.
Role
To Have Everything, and Nothing.
Added Sun Sep 30 19:40:21 2007 at level 15:
Ferrod Vayeth was brought into the world already having everything many men
would kill for; the name Vayeth, a feared and respected name in Galadon, and
wealth beyond that he could spend in a lifetime. Ferrod grew up arrogant,
spoiled and with great ambitions. His father was a Necromancer of great
power, and a local magistrate for the Tribunal. He was feared both for his
power, and corrupt activities it was rumored he was involved in.
Like father like son, Ferrod too was corrupt in many ways. He enjoyed nothing
more than manipulating others to suit his own needs. Pulling pranks on his
peers and constantly getting them in trouble, his teachers knew he was always
to blame, but they never had any proof.
Ferrod respected no one but his father, and his father spoiled his only child
ridiculously. Ferrod dreamt of the day he would follow in his father's
footsteps, he dreamt of the day the world would fear his name, the day he
would undergo The Becoming, and become the most feared being ever to walk the
lands, but it was not to be.
The day of Ferrod's application to the Necromancer's Guild had come. Dressed
in the finest black silk, and armed with a jeweled dagger inlayed with the
house sigil (a red skeletal fist) he approached the Guild. Recognizing who he
was, one of the masters took him aside. Upon appraising Ferrod he found that
the child had no talent for magic what so ever, and would never so much as
bring a beetle back from the dead. Upon hearing this, Ferrod's excitement
quickly changed to anger. In a fit of rage, he pulled the dagger from its
sheath, and plunged it deep into the master's turned back.
Using his position of power, his father pulled a few strings, and made the
incident disappear, but he was done with Ferrod. Utterly disappointed, he
expelled Ferrod from his household, stripping him all but his name.
He was nothing. A no one. With no power and no wealth.
Lost, alone, and full of rage at the way the world had so suddenly turned
upon him, he headed towards the Warrior's Guild. A Guild he had once
despised, and one he knew his father hated. Clutching his dagger, he stepped
up to the Guild guard, vengeance burning through him.
Deception
Added Tue Oct 2 19:28:48 2007 at level 23:
High up in the branches of an old tree, a young, dark haired man can be seen;
he has perched himself in a comfortable position overlooking a rather
primitive village. Whispering quietly, he rapidly talks to himself, enhancing
his already wild appearance.
"The famous Village of the BattleRagers, yes, what better way to spite
father? He would enjoy hearing that, his son, a great Vayeth a pathetic
barbarian?"
Rocking back and forth on the tree branch, the human laughs maniacally to
himself.
"But how to deceive the Villagers? I do not like magic as I used to, but I do
not hate it as they do..."
For quite sometime the Human remains quiet, and simply watches the Village,
but slowly a smile begins to play across his face.
"I am Ferrod Vayeth, orphan of Balator, yes, none will track my name there,
and my entire family was destroyed by Scion Mages. For this reason I have
harbored a deep hate for the Magi as long as I can remember."
Continuing to talk to himself, he works out all the minor details about his
upbringing.
"There is a Mage-Hating warrior in Balator, yes? Oh yes! Thyrm, and his
rag-tag followers. Yes, yes, perfect. I used to sneak away and train with
them, yes, for my hate for Magic truly runs deep!"
Dropping down from the tree, the human practically skips away from the
village. His laugh can be heard long after he has vanished from sight.
Tribunal Rage
Added Fri Oct 26 02:19:05 2007 at level 33:
It is late in the evening, and the sun is just going down, but even at this
time the busy streets of Galadon are still filled with people. Crowds swarm
the streets as they try to finish their business in the last light of the
day, all but around one man.
This man walks through the mob as though surrounded by an invisible shield,
some recognize him as the descendent of the Necromancer Vayeth, others see
the tell tale signs of a Battlerager, but most can tell this is not a man to
cross paths with.
For almost an hour he slowly wanders the city, passing his old house, and the
Tribunal Spire, every step causing his blood to boil hotter and hotter.
Finally, he turns down a dark alleyway, it is late now, and only a few people
wander the lane. He comes to a stop outside the Necromancer's Guild, every
inch of his body seething with rage.
To think that all this, everything, was to be his and now... glancing over
his shoulder he sees the pair of guards that have been tailing him since he
entered the city. Now I am followed like a petty thug.
"Guards! Guards!"
The cry rings out through the city street, and the two men that had been
following him glance in that direction. As if the cry was the prompting he'd
been waiting for, Ferrod launches himself at the guards. Silently he runs the
edge of his bone knife across the throat of the first guard. Turning to see
his attacker, the second guard can only watch in horror as the blur of motion
that is Ferrod rams his knife hard up under his ribs. Once, twice, three
times Ferrod thrusts. The guard can only make a gurgling noise as his blood
filled lungs try to cry out.
Realizing what he's done, Ferrod glances about himself, only to see a young
woman step out of the Necromancer's Guild. Her eyes widen with terror as she
beholds the sight before her, and her mouth opens to scream... but only a
choking noise comes out.
Approaching the dead woman, Ferrod reaches towards her throat to retrieve his
dagger, but pauses when he sees it. The hilt of his dagger glares back at
him, the red skeletal fist that was once his house sigil seems to almost glow
under the layer of blood. He did not even realize he'd thrown it. No matter,
it should prove a perfect message for his father. Turning away, he flees the
scene.
The beginning of his silent war against the Tribunal had begun.