Description
Small, nubbed ears jet from the sides of a roundish face. The ears itself
look to be elven in nature, but the hue of the skin makes it obvious
that it is of dark-elven decent. The sheen of the skin is not the
pitch black glean of dark-elven skin, but instead it is a mix of what
seems to be a light brown to pinkish color that softens the a stark black,
creating a hue of skin color that is revoltingly mottled brownish black.
This breeded humanoid awful hue of skin matches his physical appearance. His
face is rounded but also elongated, with the nubbed years creating a
warped look to the face. His body is large and somewhat unfit, the bulges
of fat giving his form a lumpy appearance. His arms and hands are smaller
then what you would expect, or it may be just the size of the body they
originate from. Matted silverish hair, long but tangled, hangs heavily
about his shoulders. And his eyes, a dark gray, with spots of olive green
within them hurriedly rotate about. A thin, almost unnoticable nose finishes
off this humanoid's appearance. His frame itself is slightly hunched over and
unmistakenly shorter then if he would stand tall. The most dominating
feature is a bloody, seething scar brutally marring his face. The tentrils of
of the scar is actually burns of a massive hand. Fresh puss and other
liquids constantly seethe from the burn, as if it was as fresh as when it
was placed. This disfigurement almost makes this creature unbareable
to look upon.
Role
History of Morasfenmire
Added Fri Feb 3 04:36:34 2006 at level 4:
Born of a dark elf male and a human female prostitute from Udgaard. The dark elf
cared little of what happened to the human female after he had paid his dues and so
never knew of the hald breed created from his loins. His mother, after six years
of struggle and strive finally gave up and left the child in the sodden marshes
within the Weald, hoping for its death to a creature or crocodile, or disease, she
did not care. She returned to Galadon to continue her work with little remorse for
what she did.
Struggling at the age of a humanoid of middle adolesence, he found himself within
the horrible confines of a dark and dreary place. Instincts to survive took over
despite the fear the swamp created within him. And so sustained however he could
within the swamps, dealing with being almost constantly within water, leeches, disease,
and creatures of every kind. Somehow surviving and then, almost thriving, he grew up.
Out of the swamps came a half breed of disgusting nature. Long lost his original
birth given name, he instead adapted the name of what some called his home, or words
spat at him in anger. "Did you crawl out of a quagmire?" "Go back to whatever fen you
crawled out of!" "You smell like a morass, get away from me!".
So through the words of others he was named and defined. And through that developed
an almost unnatural hatred for the civilized, the well spoken, the elite of societies.
Is it vengeance, or just revenge, or misunderstanding? No, it is a seething, bubbling,
frothing, entanglement of hate and rage and jealousy and misunderstanding and revenge.
Its a feeling that civilized girls and boys get when they look out into the swamps and
darkness and feel dread of great proportion, but its source unknown. Its a horrible, slimy
film that clings like a caustic mist to everything that touches it. It is a
brutal hatred that cannot be pinned to any one reason, but its presence is unmistakeable,
and overpowering.
The mind of Morasfenmire is convoluted, mazelike, and confusing. Attempts to clarify anything
usually causes the conversation to continue to morass and become entangled in unknown words
and end in a state of unsolvable perplexity. His mind is a maze, his hatred folded, stretched,
and churned within that mazed like mind. He is dark, instinctual evil. He is what goes
bump in the night, and its best not to go and see what that bump was...
Goals of Morasfenmire
Added Fri Feb 3 04:52:07 2006 at level 4:
One: He seeks in an almost instinctual way to become part of the Outlanders. His endless
time within the mires and morasses of Thera left him with an undeniable bond, although
horribly evil and twisted, to the Ancients and the mires and swamps he sustained himself in.
He will have difficulty carrying on intelligble conversations with almost anyone. When
talking to Ancients or other things of similiar vileness and origin, his speech is
much more easily understandable, but to others of any other outlook on life, the words
leave much to wanting.
Two: Being a basic wants and needs, he seeks comfortability within the waters he
cannot get being in his own skin. It is a childlike desire to return to the safety
of the waters and swamps. And so he focuses upon likenesses of creatures of water
to regain a sense of acceptance and comfort. Being a humanoid of such a condition,
he is not accepted by the social or societies, but neither is he completely accepted
as a creature of the mire. This torment is the most brutal and fuels his intense
aura of hatred. Unwanted, unable to be accepted anywhere, nothing will comfort except
time back within the swamp. It is the only freedom he knows, when wallowing
within the muck of swamps, mires, and morasses of Thera. But always the feeling
stays with him, unshakable, is that he will never be truly one or the other.
The Sphere of Death and Muuloc
Added Fri Feb 3 05:15:41 2006 at level 4:
All this unimaginable hatred comes to one goal, Death. The mires of the swamps
turn all that find Death into something even more, be it decaying matter turning
into what would become a diamond in billions of years. Or it could be shaped, by just
a turn of happenstance, into muck and gas that will bubble up and fade away. The mires
are seen as a forge to Morasfenmire, but on such a longer scale. Not only
do they break anything down, but the swamps and mires twist and warp that which
comes out of Death. The mires are Chaos in that what comes to Death, its final
reforming within the swamp is never the same. And sometimes the final result
is the product of only something with such a horrific and sick sense of humor.
So Morasfenmire can be found watching the bubbling within the swamps for hours, or
marring about in the muck of any swamp to find one of these end results, and what
is so delicious is that Morasfenmire is a warped and twisted creation born from the
Death of his half bred self on the day he was left in the swamps. Forged, warped, changed,
pressured, and twisted in the most devilish and sadistic manner, to create that which exists
at this moment. But just as anything within the pressures of the mires, Death is just
a path to another change. Morasfenmire is aware of this and so seeks Muuloc on a level of
inevitability. The pressures continue to change, no matter if you ask for the change or not...
The Burns of Death
Added Fri Mar 3 16:56:27 2006 at level 51:
Death and Molding has happened many times to Morasfenmire. And each Death seared
and soaked within him lessons of exposed truth. The many lessons have soaked
into his soul.
Humor and Death: Dark and forsaken laughter when lessons become too extreme and horrid.
To endure one must be able to have the mindset to accept the lessons, and when they
overwhelm, to take time to hold the lessons until they can soak and sear. Through
this thing, called laughter, dark and manical, prepares the mind for the harshest
of lessons.
Trinkets and Death: Many hold trinkets high within their lives, and Morasfenmire is here
to expose the foolishness of that. Holding on to trinkets and worrying of them after
Death steals away from the lesson Death was to teach. To step beyond this desire
allows you to be exposed to the horrid and delightful truth and lesson. Although
they have their uses in the creation of Death, to define yourself through them means
the Death is usually wasted and must come again. Such lessons should not be repeated to
the truly aware.
Fear and Death. Fear prepares the soul for the coming lessons. Without fear, with panic,
the layers others put up to protect themselves cannot be stripped away. Fear softens, exposes
the soul to the coming lesson of Death. To not fear Death trivializes the lessons
that come from them, and the searing lesson that is brought does not hold within the
the individual. Morasfenmire is not immune, and although he knows Death, he also
knows Fear and of Death. And lessons taught without fearing Death are empty.
The Teachings: As Morasfenmire grows in understanding of that what the Molder brings to him,
the more he seeks to teach others of it through his own brutal actions. Facilitating the
Death of allies and enemies alike brings to bear the lessons of which Morasfenmire has
became brutally familiar. His first victim, another Outlander shapeshifter, he spoke
that his Death was coming, to know the Fear, and when his shapeshifted form was being
slaughtered by Imperials, Morasfenmire watched and held his hand, although a word of
recall could have easily saved him, Morasfenmire left him to his Death and lesson from it,
the shapeshifter complained and yelled about how Morasfenmire could have saved him, but
what was returned was the truth, through his Death, the first of many, realizations happened.
First hatred of Morasfenmire, but through each teachings, it will become clear, and if
it does not, his broken body will be fed to the swamps and mire, to the Forge.
The Boiling Swamp of Flesh, Blood, Bone, and Fat
Added Tue Mar 28 21:37:59 2006 at level 51:
Splattered with blood and guts, soaked in melted flesh of both Forge
and swamp, muck, and mire. This hald-breed's reality is slowly shattering.
The teachings of Muuloc have continued to warp him in directions not even he
thought he could go. He hunts out of pure rage and bloody salvation, seeking to
wash everything in blood, and turn the swamps into pools of melted flesh and guts.
He uses fear now more then ever, keeping all upon an edge knowing that black and
muck of a creature may rise out of the swamps at any time and bring them Death.
The bump in the night is a bloody creature of darkness and soaked in blood.
And the fury of which the attacks and Death comes out are vicious and swift. He
seems to be teaching Fear of not just him, but of that which is black and dark, of
the swamps, coupled with lessons of Death revealed through teachings of Muuloc.
Death itself screams within his ears, and the screams and yells of his soon
sinking into the muck and mire, where his own flesh will be crafted and molded into
something else, his final death. The screams and echoes of the banshees screaming
in his ears, the hot breath of Muuloc upon his neck and shoulders, waiting with
charnel delight and an ever present cackling, just whips Morasfenmire into an even
bloodied frenzy for Death. Almost all humanoidanity is gone from it, and what
is left is pure, black horror...