Description
He pulls his garments close, his arms constantly seeking
to pull shut whatever gaps in the layers of cloth
leave him vulnerable. His face is gaunt, as though
some early life physical malady has left him wasted,
thin, and pale. His face is smooth and ageless, but
the marble illusion is ruined by scars that twist over his
hollow cheeks and beaklike nose. His eyes are deeply
bloodshot, and while not shifty, seem to
be constantly searching his surroundings for whatever
else his mind may be creating to distract him besides
this piercing cold...
Role
Madness
Added Sun Apr 3 22:48:05 2005 at level 3:
Lost in the tunnels, stumbling, running fast from the
cavefisher I had spotted. I had no sense of direction, and
stumbled into a patch of subterranian black fungi, which
doused me in acrid spores, and the rest is smeared.
Reality bent upon itself, visions came brutally, and rapidly.
Nothing has been the same since. All around the edges, I see it bending.
I see the dynamic nature of things, that they can be broken
and changed, and I realize that it is in changing and breaking
that I will find my use.
Aftermath
Added Tue Apr 19 10:02:32 2005 at level 25:
Hook horrors are protective of their young. Seldom to the sows
range too far from their nest, so when I blundered insane, and forsaken by
the gods
into a nest of hatchlings, it is surprising I escaped. The beasts were barely
as large as I was, but I was outnumbered, and hardly in enough command of my
faculties to make an escape. Somehow, too late to survive the repercussions
of the attack, I must have escaped the nest, and crawled a short distance
away. The mother returned, and was immediately alerted to my presence by the
scent in the nest, but while she accounted for her hatchlings, someone came
and rescued me.
I remember it differently, from day to day. After I met the imp, when I think
back, I would see his face above me, bearing me away. After yesterdays rescue
on the Pyramid I think back, and it is the face of a Drow, not much older
than I am now, but his face in my memory is as it is now, which is of course
impossible. This phenomenon spans all my memories, to the point that when
asked who I am, I am left unsure of how to answer.
I do not yet know what the scions mean to do, but I have reason to suspect it
involves the employment of great and untamed magical or unholy forces. I do
not delude myself to think I will be the one at the helm, directing these
forces, but perhaps I can help direct them in the right direction to achieve
my goals. The nature of the world is not to maintain the status quo, the
natural order is one of rebirth, and those who hide behind structure have sat
in their power for too long already.