Description
Swabbed in a dark robe, the creature before you seems more dead
than living. Pale white pupils seem to imply that this creature
has no sight. Creases of age encumber his face complementing
his thinned, barely visible lips. Along his lips are glimmering
white teeth, seemingly untouched by age. His eyebrows are
completely burnt away, leaving only deep jagged scars that
resemble burnt marks. His head, undoubtly as scarred as his
face, is covered by a seamless darkened hood.
Covering his body is a black robe, dusted and stained yet
seemingly unaffected by age. Mixtures of screaming faces
can be seen appearing in a random pattern throughout the robe.
His robe is etched onto his body like a second skin.
Centered on his torso is a blood red pendant, pulsing with
a synchronized beat. No visible items, chains or otherwise, is
seen holding up this jewel. However, veins of darkened blood
spread out throughout his body, concentrated in a spiral
around his torso. His long fingers are curved like claws, bent
at odd angles. As gnarled as his hands may be, they seem
surprisngly dextrous for their purpose. Wrapped around his waist
are compartments fit with devices used for torture. An
indistinguishable hilt of a dagger peeks out from the center
of his waist. Its obsidian handle, once cut to a perfectly
round shape, is now chipped and ruined from use. A glowing
aura eminates from the blade, screaming a thirst for blood.
Role
The First Entries
Added Wed Oct 26 00:15:43 2005 at level 1:
*A leather clad book inscribed with the words "Mekrah Esh Lacran"
appears before you. Slowly the letters transform, glowing sickly
green, into the words "Tome of Passage." As if by a breeze, the
pages in the journal shuffle. Some of the pages contain notes on
incantations, drawings of figures, and translations of ancient
languages.*
2nd of Death, 604 PC
Incompetence. How I despise being called that word by Master
Vorlath. It is not my fault the the nymph's heart I retrieved from
the Witch Wood was rotten. The enchantment that the Master gave
me should have kept. Why am I to be blamed for everything? It is
not right. It is not fair. All this for a simple piece of power.
Is the degradation worth it?
7th of Death, 604 PC
Master Vorlath once again taunts for what befalls me. I did
everything as I was taught. Syllable by syllable, word by word...
everything is as I was taught. I must admit that when I first began
as an apprentice to the Dark Alchemist of Cayern, I was everything
that he calls me. A dolt. Incompetent. A dunce. A fool. But now, it
has been over ten years. Why is it that I am still called such? Am
I truly so clumsy that all these mistakes are my fault? My studies
in the dark arts have been flawless. My skills in weapons surpass
all of my peers. I have memorized tomes after tomes... Yet when I
aid Master Vorlath, I am punished for experiments gone awry. Is it
..I dare say...that Master Vorlath is the one making the mistakes?
I must ascertain the truth before Master Vorlath considers my
suspicion. I do not wish to become another of his experiments..
20th of Death, 604 PC
I fear Master Vorlath is suspicious of me. He seeks to see through
my mind for any hidden intent. He has demanded my company as his
personal retainer. He gives me tedious and strenuous jobs, making
sure that I am too busy to plot any plans. It is almost as if he
is...afraid. Of what? He is the famed Dark Warlock of Cayern. I,
merely a lowly apprentice. What is he so afraid of? I have my
suspicions...
1st of Death, 605 PC
The Dark Warlock is a lie! A mere puppet to a greater force. I have
trespassed into his chambers and discovered a secret chamber.
Within that chamber is a portal. Engraved along the outer rim of
the portal are unrecognizable runic symbols. Even in my studies, I
have not found anything that resembles those symbols. I believe
understanding these symbols is where the secret to Vorlath's power
resides. What has once began as an insult to my skills is now
turning to something more. Ambition? Greed? Superiority? No...the
thirst for knowledge. Supremacy. I must understand these symbols.
8th of Death, 605 PC
Vorlath is becoming more uneasy. Whereas he could once berate me,
now he treats me almost as an equal. I see the flow of his magick
and it is incomplete, wavery...powerless. His once seemingly
complex incantations and recipes for potions are in fact illusions
to simple spells. Why I could not see this before...I do not know.
His eyes are shifty, almost as if he expects someone to usurp him.
I cannot believe I was an apprentice...no a pawn to this fool. Yet
the question lingers: If he is merely a traveling wizard, how has
he been able to maintain his reputation? How is it that he inspires
fear among others? The po
The Fold
Added Thu Nov 3 14:04:30 2005 at level 35:
*A leather clad book inscribed with the words "Mekrah Esh Lacran"
appears before you. Slowly the letters transform, glowing sickly
green, into the words "Tome of Passage." As if by a breeze, the
pages in the journal shuffle. Some of the pages contain notes on
incantations, drawings of figures, and translations of ancient
languages.*
The fabrication of Life exists no boundaries. The Great Betrayer, that
which spawned from the Void of nothingness, has caused chaos and
Strife to reign through mortality. Pain, suffering, anguish, and
death...an endless cycle to be experienced over and over again. Thus
have I learned. To end this lie, to cause the Great Betrayer to be
brought to punishment. Life exists in most planes, a conglomerate of
taint and purity, of destruction, of torture. To extinguish Life is
not worthwhile, for Life has a fickle sense of amusement, and brings
those that it deems an enjoyable puppet to its fold once again. To
teach and to learn of the ways of Life, to show to others to truth of
existance, is the method that I had incorporated in my task. Yet, such
was not enough. The truth was floundered, others made excuses of their
individuality, and even more ignored the pain and focused on the
pleasures of Life. My task is not undone, but not progressing. Such is
unacceptable, both before my mind and the presence of the Pillar of
Souls, the eternal entity of which souls were created. Even so have I
tried, through the means of destruction and questioning others in what
they sensed. The sensations and fogs of Life are strong in this plane.
Only the foolish and unwise stick to their designated paths and does
not seek other methods.
Thus do I scribe to the Fold. My ambitions are of my own, yet as long
as they are complete and my existance moves to another plane, as long
as the inevitable truth will be shown and my existance becomes as the
Void, to truly return to Origin, the path will be justified. I sense
that pacts must be created and opportunities exploited. My powers,
such as they are within the limitations of Life, are yours if you
will have me. Thus will the Prophecy be furthered and the inevitable
Truth be shown.
*The words on the cover revert back to "Mekrah Esh Lacran". A small
inscription is seen on the bottom right corner.-Karash Karracum-*