Description
+--------------------------------------------------------------+
| A sharply astringent odor blended with the unmistakable |
| scents of death and decay catch your attention like a slap |
| from a cold, calloused hand. Before you stands a drow whose |
| piercing silver eyes, lit by coronas of crimson haze, |
| threaten to skewer the very souls of men. He is clothed in |
| the dark and luxurious attire of a sorcerer, yet sports a |
| breastplate of red metal which glistens like a blood-soaked |
| ruby. Upon a broad belt of linked metal is strung a long, |
| elegantly curved scabbard housing an ensorceled blade better |
| suited to some fiend of the black pit than a mortal. A small,|
| battered copper can dangling from his belt, over the right |
| side, seems to be the source of the strange medicinal fume. |
| Looking more closely you can make out the word "balm," but |
| the rest of the label is too scratched and faded to discern. |
| As your gaze is drawn once again to the wizened, malevolent |
| countenance you notice a hideous scarlet rash which has crept|
| up from the neckline of his armor and stops just shy of his |
| right eye, tapering off in a jaggedly-curved point like a |
| bloody knife threatening to sever his sight. |
+--------------------------------------------------------------+
Role
The Plot of Arethul Vatos
Added Tue Feb 20 01:34:14 2007 at level 25:
Our souls float on the winds of the nether when this world shows us
how mortal we are, and when the breeze stills, where, then, are we?
We find ourselves in the realm of some God or another - whichever
we chose in life, or whichever chose us by measuring the weight of
our spirits. However, there is a much more vast majority of souls,
both of Thera and foreign to it, who have slipped between the ethereal
cracks; many of them have found their afterlife dissolved when their
God or Goddess was destroyed or swallowed by the maw of time. Some
have been so long on that side of the veil that they simply long to
move on, and so have sought to leave the havens of their patrons.
Kingdoms of the dead have risen in this way. Existence for these
beings is a reflection of what their lives were, and they carry on
in much the same way that the living do. But none of them, no, not
a single one, ever forgot what it was to be alive.
In this dead realm, in what could be called the Capital City of
Ghul'Vatos, his Supreme Majesty Arethul Vatos had a new vision which
spawned from the boredom of his eternal rule. Vatos, formerly a
high priest of the long-sleeping Nightmare, Nazmorghul, took control
of this realm over five centuries ago. Despite endless border wars
with encroaching kingdoms, he has maintained his place of power. He
is consumed by the pursuit of the divine, believing that he is
destined to walk with the Gods. Vatos does not share his wishes any
but his most loyal subjects, for in this Godless realm all Gods are
frowned upon, as most inhabitants have rejected theirs at some point
or another. For thisscheme to work he must find a way to siphon some
of Thera's life-force - the energy of Nature itself, and in doing so
he will be able to gain ascension by force.
After formulating the diabolic, arcane rituals necessary to properly
harness the energy, Vatos set about finding a conduit into our world
that he could dominate or otherwise convince to help him. To his
dismay he discovered that the very fabric of the universe seemed
opposed to what he was trying to do, for though some could wield the
energies of his realm from the other side, he could not punch a hole
through to the living world. After a time he had nearly given up,
when a great cataclysm rocked the fabric of his realm, nearly tearing
it asunder with chaotic energy...energy not of his world. Sensing
that this power was emanating from Thera, he took a great chance and
projected his spirit through one of the tears that had been created.
He found himself floating over a great, dark sea, and looking over his
shoulder he saw the great rip in the fabric of reality. Immediately
he knew that his time would be short, as he could sense the presence
of great forces which were rallying to seal the rip in space and time.
(He later learned that the tear was the result of Nyastren's last
assault).
Doing as seemed natural to him, he sent his spirit speeding into the
black earth in search of a most likely creature with whom he could
bargain. Being a drow in life, he sought his own kind, knowing that
few among them would resist the power he could offer...
An Offer Sekhuroth Couldn't Refuse
Added Tue Feb 20 02:10:01 2007 at level 25:
Some drow are born lucky. Sekhuroth can be counted among them. He
was gifted with a form of dream-scrying at an early age, and became
respected and, much to his liking, feared among his own people as
he learned to harness this strange power. A strange sickness, or
madness disease, as some called it, came over the entire world
while he was young, and he suffered greatly from it. Those around
him suffered more than normal as well, as if he somehow amplified
the illness. It was not long before the last sane drow of his city
banished him, knowing he was not the cause but refusing to suffer
more because of him. He wandered in the darkness for weeks until,
in his insane dreaming he was visited by the image of a great
cyclopian woman, who upon opening her single, vast eye cured him
of his affliction.
Shortly thereafter, as he wandered aimlessly in the dark, he was
again visited by dreams of the cyclops, and he knew then that her
name was Psuchae, and that it was to her that he owed his thanks
for the gift of Dreamstalking. These things did not need to be
said, for in a Dream they can be known without any apparent
communication. Her image often faded to that of a great book
flipping pages, and upon one particular page the visage of a drow,
wizened and crowned as a king, appeared to him.
The face opened its mouth, and in an instant Sekhuroth knew that
this was no mere drow, but a demi-god of the dead, and that he
sought to strike a bargain. Images of portals, of arcane rites
worked under the bone-white face of the moon came to him, and
through these portals poured writhing shadows. But then an eerie
green light blazed within them and he knew that they had changed-
that the portals were now linked to this undead king's realm.
Around him he could see shadowy trees withering, and crows falling
from the sky. After a terrible torrent of sound and spectral light
the portal snapped shut and on this side, amid an army of undead
figures that had appeared out of nowhere, and the writhing shadows
that had first come through, Arethul Vatos stood, neither alive
nor dead. The idea of the payment came to mind, and Sekhuroth
immediately saw himself seated upon a throne of platinum and bone,
exuding a power unlike anything he had ever seen.
In that moment a bargain was struck. Arethul Vatos offered, and
Sekhuroth, the fledgling priest of Psuchae, the Dreamstalker,
accepted not fully knowing all of what he had gotten himself into.
The Early Years: Apprentice to the Night
Added Mon Mar 19 13:06:43 2007 at level 40:
Seeking a way to bring his visions of glory into being, and spurred
to act swiftly by the thought of neglecting a bargain with the other
side, Sekhuroth turned towards forbidden lore...the path to true power.
To his great delight, he found that he had a gift in all things dealing
with the art of Necromancy, and he drank deeply of that guild's teachings.
Unknown to him was the fact that his connection with the dream world and
his skill in the ways of the dead were linked, for his spirit itself had
been imbued with a purpose before he was ever born...a purpose only the
Gods know.
As the years passed, Sekhuroth was able to regain some lost ground with
his kindred in the Underdark, though he was always viewed with caution.
In fact, he was quite fortunate that he never had another "episode" of
madness, for the standing orders were, as they still are, to kill him
if he shows any signs of a relapse. After his apprenticeship with the
guild had all but ended, he felt at last that he was capable enough to
seek out the Scions of the Eternal Night; his painstaking research
revealed to him many things about their organization, not the least of
which was an affinity for the Shadow Plane. Recalling his glorious
and terrifying vision, Sekhuroth deduced that he would have the best
chance to uphold his bargain if he learned their secrets.
Kanaev, the Chancellor, rejected Sekhuroth's deal, feeling no need to
bargain with some spectre of another realm that could do nothing to
affect him. Fortunately, he saw the worth of this fledgling necromancer
and granted him a place within the Fold. For the first time the notion
that he might be unable to keep his bargain set upon him, for in his
Drowish arrogance he never thought that would happen. However, he did
gain a toe-hold, and that would be enough for now.
Revelations
Added Sat Mar 24 13:03:24 2007 at level 47:
On a particularly black evening when the planes were in an unusually
perfect alignment, Sekhuroth was within the Underdark mastering the
finer points of opening planar portals. He had just reached the mortal
pinnacle of his guild, and had recently developed the Defiler's Way,
an ability that was already within him and needed only to be refined.
Perhaps it was this new ability that caused what happened next; upon
calling forth a planar portal he noticed a pinpoint of chartreuse light
coming from within the blackness that was usually as solid as the earth
on which he was standing. The light fluxed, churning within the portal
and with a sudden burst, overtook it entirely, leaving a hellish green
gateway before him. For a split second, Sekhuroth became fearful, but
before the Ccul'gra surrounding him could sense it, he mastered the
fear and stood still, waiting.
"YOU WANT TO KNOW HOW THIS HAS HAPPENED, DON'T YOU MY LITTLE SORCERER,"
boomed a voice from within the portal, shaking the very walls of the
cavern.
It did not take long for Sekhuroth to recall the image of the vision he
had long ago, and he knew that the one he spoke to was Arethul Vatos
himself, who had somehow usurped the portal he had opened. Slowly, he
answered, "I wish know it, if you would tell me."
"YOU ARE THE KEY. I HAVE INSTILLED IN YOU, UPON OUR FIRST ENCOUNTER,
WITH A GIFT FOR STEPPING INTO THE NEGATIVE PLANE, AND WHENEVER YOU
DO SO, A PART OF YOU STEPS INTO MY REALM, THOUGH YOU HAVE NOT KNOWN
IT UNTIL NOW. AND FINALLY YOU HAVE REALIZED YOUR FULL POTENTIAL AS A
DEFILER OF NATURE, AND EACH TIME YOU USE YOUR MAGICS WITHIN THE WILDS,
THE LIFE THAT YOU STEAL FINDS ITS WAY TO ME."
"Then that is it? All I need to do to fulfill the agreement is continue
to use my ma--"
"NO."
"IT IS NOT ENOUGH. YOU WOULD DIE AND BE TURNED TO DUST BEFORE ENOUGH
ENERGY WAS SYPHONED. A TREACHEROUS PATH YOU MUST TAKE; YOU MUST BECOME
A NIGHTMARE IN THE WAKING WORLD, MORE AKIN TO MY PLANE THAN YOURS."
"You speak of the Becoming?"
"OF COURSE. LIFE ENERGY IS WELCOME IN ANY FORM, AND NO CREATURE CAN
TAKE MORE OF IT THAN A LICH. THAT IS YOUR PATH, DO NOT FAIL."
And with that final decree, the green glow of the portal flickered and
melted away, leaving nothing but the void.