Description
Before you stands something quit out of the ordinary. Standing less then four
feet in height this mass of flesh is appallingly pigment less. Two legs brace
this bulge with a steadfast position. His waist is thick but he is not
overweight. His chest barreled and swollen but again proportionate to his
kin, and rather defined compared to most of them. His arms look like snow
covered boulders extending out of his shoulders and flowing down into hands
that are chapped and weathered. A plume of frosty white, nearly clear hair
expends out and around his headwear from his nearly pink scalp. His face is
square and hardened and his eyes blaze from his pale completion a bright red.
His eyes resemble a creature of the dark nearly shinning in the lights
reflection. His nose is small and round and there is no hair on his face, or
any other part of him besides the top of his head. His lips are a pale stone
grey, which contrast his glowing white skin. His eyes are constantly
squinted, giving him the look of both predator and prey.
As you inspect him closer you notice.
Role
The end will be found.
Added Mon Jul 30 18:03:34 2007 at level 51:
The search for the end :
The search for the end :
visions have been blurred of late, coming and going in my dreams or in my
waking. They are sporadic, I must be getting old.
"Feh, yer not old yah sodding nancy yer just thinking that! Yer got
plenty of git left eh, yer sodding kilt twelve in a row in Iunnas name
after yer parting, yer a damned animal still and no chains not even those
a time"
Though the years have taken there toll. None can say the true age of the
whiteborn, his birthing such a foul abomination none can truly guess his
years. He does however remember, how far back is hard to tell. His visions
make up the rest of what his mind cannot see, but time is lost in those
fragments of insight. He does know however he can remember over 600 years
passing, though his count is on or off by a few decades. Vhloughvang also
does not like to think of time and how much he has spent, for he feels older
each day, but none can say for sure when time will cease for the whiteborn.
(there is nothing to base his lifespand off of, seeing as he is an
abomination of mana, pride, lust, and hate... The only of his kind.)
"I must find the final master. I must finish out my fate, but who who is
the shadow one i see."
In all his previous visions the white seer has seen such detail, seen truth, but
now his years have added clouds to his minds window.
Vhloughvang has the visions but he cannot make out the figure of his final
master. He sees him self there, sparing training learning living for
knowledge of war, yet he cannot see the face of his master. The words of whom
are distorted and incoherent. It is as if he is in fact training in some
hidden dream, battling his own inner demons and learning from it to move with
grace and agility to surpass even his own shadow.
Vhloughvang continues to expand his meditations on his third and final
master, attempting to decode just what those visions mean. Until his path
becomes clear he seeks signs to lead him continuously down the path of his
fate. The Fate of the Whiteborn Warlord, the Plague of Magi, Executioner of
the Manawrought.
The final calling of Iunna
Added Mon Jul 30 17:53:32 2007 at level 51:
The last calling:
He was proud when she saw him, even in a ghastly form (not much different
from his normal ghostly appearance) she could feel his power. Iunna smiled to
herself knowing that she indeed had made him a means to and end, and that his
fate would be strong even though he had aged quite some bit. When they had
come to meet in the short wood near his village they both knew what it would
mean. He could see in her eyes, she could offer no more learning on war, and
he had seen with his visions this day in this wood. Not much was said, for it
needed not be. She knew how grateful he was to be learned by her paw, and he
knew how proud she was to call him her student.
And so has ended the learning of the second. One more in the tale of the
And so has ended the learning of the second. One more in the tale of the
three is left, and though his fate has thinned with his age and body, none
can still doubt the warlords ferocity, and none can say just what will
occur when the prophecy is completed.
The Final Lesson of the Fire Monk
Added Mon Jul 30 17:45:52 2007 at level 51:
The final lesson.:
It has been a long time since Vhloughvang has started training with the monk
learned master Iunna. There time together has been enjoyable for both, but
they both saw this day coming Vhlough with visions and Iunna with lordling
site. Vhloughvang has steady been on the decline of the aging curve, but he
would never let one see it. Death still follows this abomination of flesh.
The stink still left on him from the blood and guts of his foes is as
discernable as his hate for those he brings pain to. His master has done what
she could. She has called for him this last time not for lessons of strength
or of endurance, but for a lesson of enlightenment. Vhloughvang had just
fended off a legion of nexus teamed with the law dogs who begged help from
the imperial scoundrels, it even seemed they would call in the white empire
to aid them after such blood was shed from them all. But any mans fate is
scarce in those odds, and so they succeeded in taking the whiteborn warlord
down. His foes had a hard time mending there wounds after the bout, nearly
all of them were cold from blood loss and two of them would pass from
infection or loss of lifeblood thereafter. It was a small price they
considered for laying low such a force. From the skies his master watched,
she knew that anyone else would have faired a much shorter breath in the face
of those odds. That no warrior walking would have unleashed the hell they had
to endure and overcome (some of which couldnt) in order to bring him down.
The Whiteborn was beyond her training now. This warlord had taken in all he
could, soaking up the knowledge of death and the arts of bringing it to his
foes like a dry sponge. She knew what he has seen before, and she knew it was
time to send him on to his next step of the prophecy.
Step 2: New Visions
Added Tue Jan 30 23:48:07 2007 at level 51:
Step 2: New Visions
Long time has passed once again and Vhloughvang's visions have progressed.
He knows that he must find the answer to the becoming that is his fate and
place reason within the second of the three. In his dreams he has seen the
one honored of the Macalla, the one known as Iunna whom fate has found
everlasting breath in. While Iunna is certainly a defined master of martial
arts and graced honored of the Monks, Vhloughvang still needed to be sure of
his dreams and has developed a meditation practice that strengthens his focus
on his visions. It was during these newfound meditations that he first
realized the fate of his beloved friend Yean, one whom would soon rise to the
heavens blessed of fate. He knew then his new focus was powerful because
shortly after the fate of Yean was made so.
Vhloughvang has brought himself before Iunna now seeking tutelage of war, he
has devoted himself to his second master and will do what ever is required to
prove his worth as a student. Until he has reached the grace of Iunna's
acceptance as a student Vhloughvang will not rest in his attempts to prove
his worth. Vhloughvang will only be able to complete his training when Iunna
has deemed him ready, and till then will remain on the second of the three.
While this fate is not one easily accepted, Vhloughvang knows his visions to
never show him false fate, and never to unfold untrue. It is in his
unyielding belief of the fate and destiny of him through his visions that he
finds strength.
Step 1: The beginning
Added Tue Jan 30 23:39:54 2007 at level 51:
Step 1: The beginning
As time has passed Vhloughvang visions have grown increasingly powerful, he
sees things that he may find hard to understand at first, but they always
seem to work themselves out, and in an increasingly more accurate fashion.
Vhloughvang has been working now to sort out the meaning of his most recent
reoccurring vision, that of the three, as he refers to it.
The vision of the three has progressed over time now and is now clear that
there will be three deciding factors into the enlightenment of
Vhloughvang's destiny and fate as the greatest warrior, as the means to an
end. The three progressions or steps if you will are trials in which will
define combat and consciousness as one.
Vhloughvang's first master was Thrym, Raised as a student of war and guided
by Thrym he was taught to fight the way of the battle rager and was an adapt
pupil. This first step for Vhloughvang was difficult and was challenged by
his lack of understanding of who, or rather what he was. After learning all
he could from Thrym and passing into the village as one of them he progressed
to the pinnacle of his guild, a hero of the lands. It was towards the end of
this journey however that his visions had come together, the puzzle was
solved and his fate and birthing were made clear to him. This force in and of
it self was nearly Vhloughvang's undoing, stricken mad and nearly suicidal
he only found comfort in the voice of his late father after passing out from
exhaustion. His fate that day was strengthened as he now saw the path he must
follow, he has now physically and mentally out grown his master, and the
first step of the three was completed.
Side Notes:
Added Mon Dec 4 00:41:19 2006 at level 8:
Side notes:
Later, VhloughVang was named by Thrym as he progressed from the orphanage to
the warrior academy. His name was derived from an elder language loosely
translated to "Ghost Warrior" in common tongue.
VhloughVang has flashbacks and nightmares about the events that lead to his
birth. He can see some of the events that transpired before his birth and can
even remember the capture of the fathering villager. He does not understand
his visions and dreams but each time they get more and more complex and they
are starting to link together. Eventually he will realize what he is and how
he has come into this world. When this happens there is no telling what he
will do or what will become of him.
The Discovery:
Added Mon Dec 4 00:39:06 2006 at level 8:
The Discovery:
Three robed men pass through the mountain with their heads down. They are
missionaries passing through, looking for those to convert. They have been
waylaid the night before in the lighting and thunder storm. A nearby stream
has swollen due to the vicious rainfall and they are forced to take another
path to get around the swollen waterway. They travel up the foothills and
stop for moment to observe the view. This is when they first hear it.
"Did you hear that Othengen?"
"Hear what brother? I hear nothing."
"There it is again, tis a cry of some sort."
"You are dreaming brother."
"No he is not, I hear it too Othengen."
They sit still for a moment as the cry calls out again, but this time all
three hear it loud and clear. They rush to find the source of this noise to
find a baby wrapped in a bloody black sheet. They inspect the baby, and
realizing it is not hurt, they discuss its condition. Never have the three
seen a Halfling child with skin white as snow and red eyes. They decide to
return to their church with the child and seek there elders advice.
When they return, the finding of the beady-eyed white-skinned baby is looked
upon as a ill omen for their mission. The elders decide to leave the child at
the orphanage in the city of Balator and move their mission across the sea
and away from the ill omen.
The Birthing:
Added Mon Dec 4 00:35:19 2006 at level 8:
Did I get that right, Herbs?
aking the very ground. The tower is light up from all
sides but swallows light like a gaping pit. Shadows dance among the walls as
your vision is drawn to higher window. Dark souls dance around the room in
the candlelight and there is a bed of some sort in the middle of the room.
Spread out on the black sheets is the swollen figure of the Dark night woman.
Her eyes are rolling back in her head and dark incantations are being
whispered from the shadows. As the birth progresses she fights wailing in
anguish while the dark ones around her attempt to aid the breaching.
Lightening crashes again but this time the oak door to the room explodes off
its hinges. A seared and bloody man breeches the frame, bellowing a war cry
that shakes the very walls. "IT MUST BE DESTORYED" You see the sire of
this wicked babe was being held still for torture in the lower chambers of
the tower. While the dark powers were focused on the birthing ritual they did
not pay attention to their captive and with his determination to end this
foul offspring he broke free of his cell and made his way to end this
madness. A shriek of terror fills the room as demons and dark fiends pour
from the very shadows converging on the villager. The battle rages as he
sends foe upon foe back to the depths and inches closer to the bed. As he
reaches the foot of the bed the howls of the dark-ones is shattered by a
single cry of a new born. Everything is silent and a glow seems to pierce
from the center of the bed. Dark fiends shield there eyes the villager cries
out in anguish, none seem to notice the blood rolling off the bed upon the
floor in the chaos. A second cry brings clarity a dark fiend seizes up the
blood soaked white ball of flesh and like a wave a horde of demons pours
through the door and engulfs the villager. The room reeks of death, the
villager is put down in the drowning wave of darkness and his blood is
matched by the mother of the white born. She has passed in the birth and the
demons and dark fiends start to fade one at a time. There souls now returning
to the depths after the anti-paladins bindings are broken. Dark whispers
crest the air
"What do we do with the mage born?"
"What do we do with the white born ?"
"What do we do with the undoing?"
A slow answer returns snickering from and unknown source
The shadows hiss in response and the newborn is taken wrapped in the blood
soaked sheets out of the room.
The Conception:
Added Mon Dec 4 00:28:09 2006 at level 8:
The conception:
A dark tower rises in your vision. The mountain that rises behind it is pale
in comparison to the ebony tower. Your vision pulls you slowly at first then
more rapidly at the tower which grows in height and seemingly in power as you
come near. Whisked up, youre pulled though a grated window of twisted
adamantite. The room is lavish and the dcor is rich, and a dark and ominous
throne is present.
Upon it sits a feminine figure, she is thin but shapely. She is decorated in
such garish attire and wrapped in shadows, and it is impossible to tell
exactly what race this woman beholds. Her lips do not move but her voice
echoes off the thick walls of this chamber. A commotion is heard throughout
the tower and a booming voice is heard swearing and screaming. Dark minions
pour in from the darkness of the shadows. The booming voice becomes nearer
and the struggle grows more intense.
Large doors are drawn back from behind curtains, and the owner of the booming
voice is now suddenly present. Twelve dark lurkers glide in without a sound,
carrying an immense adamantite table above them. Twisted chains of a glowing
metal are strapped and layered around the table binding something or someone
to it. The voice booms out another slew of curses and swears and the changes
rattle and give off a singeing hiss. The smell of burnt flesh wafts in your
nostrils as the struggle presses the burning chains hiss and bubble harder
and louder. All at once the table is dropped to the floor and the prisoner is
visible. He is a mature man, suffering greatly from the burning chains the
only thing that can be sure is that he is of a smaller statue, a gnome or
perhaps even a dwarf. His face is contorted in pain and anger, his eyes
bubbling with nearing madness and hatred. The dark woman now stands gazing
over her prisoner.
"Oh. Look at you, you struggle and you fight, but the fight is over do you
not see?"
"FARHHH I fargin gut yah sodding git, yah whorein farkin AHHHGAHH"
"Oh my, you villagers, so uneducated... so primitive... yet so fierce"
"BY THRORS HAMMER!! You soodin GAHH wicked soul"
"Your rage will fuel my offspring and such power will be had"
"Fargin WHAT ?"
The dark minions move in from all sides tearing the loincloth from the
villager. He flails and bites at them but three of them secure his head and
the dark woman approaches. She begins weaving powerful spells of seduction
and surrounded by dark minions her clothing slowly falls from her and she
stand over the bound villager. The dark forces now force aphrodisiacs upon
the villager. "BY TAHRENS ANVIL!! NOOOOOO!" but it is too late, she has
forced herself upon him and there is nothing that can be done. Your vision
pulls back through the window but the sounds of the Booming voice still
echoes cursing and swearing.