Description
Before you stands the disfigured facade of a dark-elven male. Standing just
over five and a half feet in height, he is truly an odd sight to behold. The
majority of his once ebony skin is now completely free of pigment. It bears a
strong resemblence to that of strongly weathered leather, rough and worn. Two
steely, blue-grey eyes carefully survey the surrounding area, breaking
through the trend of blacks and whites that exist in his pigment-strewn
flesh. A small wisp of white hair adorns his head, the rest remains barren.
Despite these oddities, he carries himself with the same arrogant air that
only a dark-elf could truly possess.
Role
OPENING PAGE--READ FIRST!
Added Fri Jun 29 22:53:20 2007 at level 51:
OPENING PAGE:
**READ THIS PAGE FIRST!!! I simply cannot stand it when people skip to the
guts of a biography without reading the opening page, and if you did just
that, I sincerely hope you sleep with a harlot who's sheath is hotter than
the fires of the inferno.**
Now then, on to the topic at hand--A great man by the name of Golhyrr
Maglust.
Three parts integrity, two parts hatered, one part ugly, soaked in a stiff
bottle of arrogance and brought to a boil--and there you have it, Golhyrr
Maglust.
I knew Golhyrr Maglust, and knew him well. In the flesh he was merely a lost
soul, trying to find his way much like the rest of us. He fought his final
breaths on the same blood-drenched battlefields he was born to soak his boots
in. It was there that he fought a valiant quest, a quest for completion. Not
completion of his initial goal perhaps, as his primary goal was to finish off
a war that has been raging since nearly the awakening of Thera itself..but
ultimately, completion of himself. Regardless, I'm sure in his grave he
curses his mortal shell for not putting forth the same effort his soul was
willing to.. Failure is not something he took lightly.
To follow is a compilation of tales that I've heard first hand from his own
mouth, along with some of his own personal journal entries. Some may see it
as a source of inspiration, some may read it in disgust(he was not a 'kind'
person by any means of the word), or perhaps a mixture of the two.
The Combat Stylings of Golhyrr Maglust.
Added Wed Jun 20 20:59:52 2007 at level 45:
Golhyrr admittedly believes that each mage fallen to his hand fills a minute
portion of the gaping hole punctured in his pride, the very same hole from
which such copiuos amounts of hatred had birthed from. With every battle, his
confidence and self-worth returns to him.. and apparently the reinstatement
of his inherent dark-elven arrogance as well.
Golhyrr favors close-range combat above any other. Feeling the warm bursts of
blood as he deals the mortal blow seems to make his victory all the more
meaningful. You see, to Golhyrr combat is a very intimate exchange. The
opponent in question requires every ounce of attention devoted to them.
Revelling in the chaos and intricacies of battle, he has learned to keep a
clear mind and pay special attention to the movement and fluidity of his
opponent in attempt to calculate their next move. It is for these reasons
that he choses to use weapons that require such close proximity. Knives, bare
hands, and a keen eye for observation are the most deadly weapons in his
unforgiving arsenal.
Fluent in the dark-elven tongue, Golhyrr has developed a war cry of his
own--spoken neither underside or over by any other. This cry stirs a very
intense emotional fervor within him. "Thalack! Elghinn ulu lil waela faern!"
is his cry, often heard just before he unleashes a usually complex, and
always painful combat manuever. This cry is translated as follows: "War!
Death to the foolish magic-worker!"
*EDITOR'S NOTE: All translations(along with the previous chapters) have been
gathered from the dark-elven dictionary plucked from the libraries of the
lyceum. I am far from adept in such bizarre tongues.*
Inside the Mind of Golhyrr Maglust.
Added Wed Jun 20 18:15:42 2007 at level 43:
Golhyrr admittedly believes that each mage fallen to his hand fills a minute
portion of the gaping hole punctured in his pride, the very same hole from
which such copiuos amounts of hatred had birthed from. With every battle, his
confidence and self-worth returns to him.. and apparently the reinstatement
of his inherent dark-elven arrogance.
A Broken Path Re-Paved.
Added Mon Jun 11 16:03:20 2007 at level 26:
Upon my rise to the surface, I was torn and degraded.. I found myself often
contemplating suicide. My pride and self-worth had been utterly compromised,
I no longer found purpose in my existance. Why did I flee for my life? Why?
I've managed to save my body, this mortal shell..but alas, it has since been
made hollow, empty.
After many days of solitude, thoughts of suicide and self-pity began to leave
my mind, replaced by an unexplainable thirst that begged to be quenched..
Still, the emptiness that had ailed me remained deeply rooted in my being
with no sign of possible fulfillment.
Knowing full-well whatever trials that lay ahead would require much more
training, I began to harvest whatever knowledge and abilities I possibly
could. After a brief introduction to the warrior's guild, I began my training
in the academy. My stay there was short. Having caught word of a closet full
of wooden weaponry crafted for the sole purpose of practice, I decided to
make my way there. It was whilst I shamelessly plucked weaponry from that
said closet that I was embraced by such brilliant clarity.
As I turned to depart, arms full of every weapon imaginable, I came face to
face with a man I would soon know to be Thrym the BloodLetter. After a brief
inquisition of my person and motives and a good laugh at my scarred face, he
began to explain Thera to me in such a way that I could never possibly see it
the same again. Although he greatly lacked finesse and subtlety in his
speech, his words staggered me with wisdom. Until that day, I had never had a
shred of respect for any oversider.
My path was now set, and once I am ready I am to seek out a Noldarian Smith
by the name of Tahren.
Hmm, this story reminds me.. there's a potion-wielding 'warrior' amongst
Thrym's students who deserves to be delivered a most agonizing death for his
blatant disrespect. I should see to that.
The True Outcast.
Added Mon Jun 4 14:06:15 2007 at level 3:
Deep within the dark confines of the Underdark exists the dark-elven society
known as "Teth Azeleth". The extreme complexities under which this society is
governed is quite astonishing and is a mystery to most(if not all) outsiders.
Guarded by fierce dark-elven patrollers and vicious spiders aplenty, it is no
wonder why it goes rarely ventured. Even those who have explored its terrain,
it would be nearly impossible to grasp the concepts of this intricate society
without having lived amongst them.
There are several houses and clans in which one is born into and raised(the
name of the clan is often placed into their own as a lastname of sorts), each
carrying their own status of nobility. Females hold all positions of power in
these societies, leaving males to command only a limited amount of power
themselves. It is mostly for this reason that males would seperate from
society, becoming outcasts to its customs.
There is one band of outcasts in particular who openly expresses their
disgust for dark-elven society. They call themselves nothing other than the
"Ultrin Dobluth", which is roughly translated as "Supreme Outcasts" in the
dark-elven tongue. They are truly a chaotic force to be reckoned with. Known
for their savagery and guerilla tactics, these heavily trained warriors would
initiate frequent raids on Teth Azeleth and its inhabitants.
They had a distinct twist on the "Blooding" ritual that is common to all
dark-elven society which consists of a venture to the surface to fulfill
their need for blood by killing and pillaging. Instead, since the Ultrin
Dobluth already saw their fair share of blood, they would steal it. After
extensive elaborate planning, they would sneak into one of the noble houses
of Teth Azeleth and steal their young. This ritual is performed few and far
between, due to the many dangers involved in such a task. After the infant
was in their possession they would train it as their own, and upon their
coming of age, they would be the ones to plan the next blooding as a true
initiation into the Ultrin Dobluth.
In this one such case, the infant was named "Golhyrr"(translated "trick" in
common tongue). Young Golhyrr quickly became the star pupil amongst those
undergoing warrior training. He would adapt and incorporate his teachings
into a style all his own, recieving lots of praise(which is not common
amongst dark-elves). His peers waited impatiently to see his plans for the
blooding.
The day rapidly approached, it was finally time. The plans and preparations
had been lain, the small group of youngsters eager to prove themselves moved
to turn 'plan' into 'action', Golhyrr at the head of the operation. A silent
death was brought to the patrollers, and a difficult, but just as stealthy
death brought to the house soldiers. Things were going accordingly. As the
group continued to pass the houses guard, an overwhelmingly eerie calm passed
over them. As Golhyrr pressed ahead to scout around the next corridor,
opposition was met. It was no ordinary guard, this was a female, one
harnessing extensive knowledge of wizardry, it was clear she had been called
for. Golhyrr hesitated a moment before lunging at her throat, dagger in
hand.. that moment of hesitation was all too crucial. A torrent of flames
engulfed Golhyrr, sending him back i