Description
A bit of ash seems to dust off of this human when he moves. Gray flecks
seemingly out of nowhere fall about his hair and his back, like an ill cloud
dissipated just moments before you saw him, yet it's the smell of river water
that fills your senses. He stands a little over six feet tall and is lanky
and wiry in build. His jaw and nose are strong, sharp, and they shape his
face pleasantly. His hair is nearly raven black and it is cut in asymmetrical
fashion with the right side of his hair shorn tight and the waves of his long
strands running haphazardly over his forehead and across the upper left side
of his face. His eyes, under thick brows, are a warm brown with a bit of a
hazel sparkle to them. While not clean shaven, he's perhaps but a day or two
from last cutting away a beard. His shoulders are broad though lean and his
arms are befitting those of days mired in hard work and heavy lifting. His
clothing is oily black and stretched tautly from his chest to his feet. Fresh
water rests in round clear droplets upon the top of his boots.
Role
Dreams
Added Sat Mar 11 13:58:57 2023 at level 1:
I dreamed my death over a hundred thousand times. I dreamed of a sword in my
chest. I dreamed of drinking poisoned wine. I dreamed of falls from
unimaginable heights. I dreamed of lovers, of friends, of family, of rivals, of
dark souls with unknown faces, each kind or cruel as they somehow walked me
into implausible places where I met my demise again and again. I dreamed of
silence in the end. I dreamed of rapturous joy meeting me on the other side. I
dreamed of hellish torture and endless pain.
But I always woke up.
I awoke with sweat covering me, but it has no smell to it. I awoke renewed. I
awoke unstuck in the cycle of whatever dark fate I had not seen but could now
avoid the fate I had just befallen. I awoke alive.
So death kept me alive. And in death I was born. And when I rested again, so
too would I learn again.
Youth
Added Sat Mar 11 14:00:52 2023 at level 1:
I was born in Balator to a family of modest means. My mother was an attendant
at the temple and my father was a priest. My oldest sibling, a sister, was gone
shortly after I was born. We never spoke of her. I don't know if she ran away,
married a man my parents didn't approve of, or sought a life they could not
abide. My elder brother was a knight and opted to take a position as
magistrate, something I felt my father was proud of but somehow my mother saw
it as an easier life. Wasted.
We both, my brother and I, did construction at the temple and early on I saw
the near constant destruction of buildings, the fires set by enemies of
civilization, and ultimately, the powerlessness and ineptitude of the so called
Spire. Worse still, I saw the ranks of their leaders filled with dark souls or
those whose definitions of innocents-to-protect seemed to meant letting
slaughterers and sadists run rampant across cities and wilder lands.
The temple was where I was destined to start. My father had pushed me to be a
healer though my mother showed me other prayers. Years earlier, I told her of
my dreams and she told me to keep them secret. And then she told me how to keep
myself safe. Safe from any danger I could dream. And maybe, she hoped, I could
do something that changed the world. Something that mattered. Something that
actually protected innocents.
The Pacing Horse
Added Sat Apr 8 19:45:58 2023 at level 32:
I dreamed of a horse. White in mane, white in eyes, white in hoof, white in
glow.
The horse galloped about me.
At first I thought it wanted me to tame it, to ride it, but when I approached,
it pulled back and continued its circles. Not unlike the eddies above the
rowboat. I dreamed that I could try and try to mount it, but as I did,
only faster would it move in its patterns around me.
So I stopped trying, and I sat down.
I began to sink, the ground under me was gray and foggy but then it was a stone
floor, a wooden mat, a bearskin rug, a patch of dirt, a green grassy knoll, and
finally water.
So I stood up and simply watched the horse.
Its eyes locked on me, and when it did, the pattern stopped. I began to walk in
a direction, though I cannot tell you, dizzy as I was, what direction it would
have been.
So we walked, me behind the horse. For some time.
It led me to two armaments, straps with wings attached, and straps with a horn
attached. The straps have spikes facing inward. To wear them would be to
puncture oneself. To give freedom or purity was to experience pain, constant
pain.
Do I don them myself? Do I force the horse to wear them? Are they a pegasus to
be made? Am I unicorn to be forged?
I woke up.
A Missive, Written on Imperial Stationary - Page One of Two
Added Thu Apr 13 15:13:41 2023 at level 37:
To Wraewir Mohr, a Child of Death and a Priest of Fools,
You were successful. I have been demoted and was nearly made anathema. Your
efforts are a stain on myself, on our family name, and will be your undoing. I
was gone. You did not have to find me. I had made my choice. I made no efforts
to steer our brother to my cause, he being so close to the truth working within
the Spire. I made no efforts to steer our father to my cause, he staying in
proximity to lands rightfully ours within Balator. I made no efforts to steer
our mother to my cause, she is deteriorating in mind and burdened with needs,
needs of structure and service that only our way can provide. Not that you
would ever understand that.
But you. I knew you. I know you. It was not out of respect, or out of a desire
to close those early chapters of my life, that I did not make efforts steer
you. It was out of what I know of your birth and what I will share with you
now. My father said that you were born under the cloud of death, under its
star, and that an ill fate portended your birth. My mother thought differently,
she had heard name of the drowned Goddess and spoke to druids near their holy
grove to learn about Rarywey. She took the sounds of the goddess's name and
conjured your own, Wraewir as an homage to Her. She became obsessed with
cycles, patterns, decay and birth, growth and death. She abandoned her own
faith, convinced of some greatness you were given. Her auspicious child. She
cared for you and dotted on you in ways your brother and I never received. You
were her favorite, you were some destiny, and we all just had to go along with
her occasional unhinged ramblings that she spared you of, strangely enough.
Worried that she would somehow influence your growth and believing that what
steps you would take would need to be taken of your own accord. I want to take
that from you.
A Missive, Written on Imperial Stationary - Page Two of Two
Added Thu Apr 13 15:14:12 2023 at level 37:
What's worse were your dreams, once you started to share them and once they
started to come true, that was the true origin of our mother's madness. For she
saw this as proof of her beliefs, that you are somehow blessed. And here I am,
without blessing. So I have now finished what is needed to even fate a bit and
seen to two curses with which you will now be burdened. The first, to your
dreams, you will sleep without warning. It will get you killed and I celebrate
this curse. The second, your mind will not hold secrets, your quiet words meant
for a select few or a singular soul may at any time be shared with any and all
ears. It will get you killed and I celebrate this curse.
The secrets you shared to the Empire, of a life I abandoned and of family I had
not shared my cause with, they amount to small infractions. They will not deny
me from my ascent nor will they change the fate of the world, which is the
domination of all to see to the protection and providing for all. It has to be
this way, but a dreamer such as you will never understand. Do not find me. Do
not speak of me. I am recently engaged to a fellow Imperial, so the name Mohr
will not follow me for much longer now.
I hope you die in pain.
-P.
The Briefest Dream of an Unseelie Court
Added Fri Apr 14 14:14:41 2023 at level 37:
I dreamed of a jester, and a royal, and a marbled floor. I saw ten or twelve of
the fae, in an unseelie court. The king and the queen was one soul, or two
souls, I couldn't tell, but they were as one in an ever changing form. A body
they shared and a voice they lent one another. The king and queen had a jester
who was presenting herself for execution. When her head fell to the floor,
severed clean by the highest ranking guard, the queen and king laughed and
applauded.
In the blood that sprayed ferociously from the corpse, a message was spelled
out, warning of 'a world above'. 'A world above', was clear to be read, and
then the blood bounced upon the floor like a drum being drummed at the surface
of the water. It spelled out, 'Is coming below' and the laughing and revelry
ceased.
I fear I woke too soon.
Or too late.
The Dream Of The Death Of The Kind Snake
Added Fri Apr 14 14:15:36 2023 at level 37:
I dreamed a kind snake who dreamed about water while he slithered through the
grass. The water made him faster and made him able to see all around him, below
him, and in the reflection of the below, above him. I'm unsure why the snake
dreamed this way. In his real life, the grass could be felt, the air had no
salted sea crispness to it, all the while dirt and even stones touched his
belly as he moved. If I were this snake, that would have pulled me out of such
a dream.
Though I sometimes cannot pull myself out of a dream. Even when I want to wake.
He dreams water, and dreams as he slithers. He knows all that would approach
him, he knows all that could endanger him, and he knows all joys and sorrows
before they befall him.
I think I dreamed this snake as a reflection and a shadow. But despite it
moving through the world as though it were on water, with vision below and
above in reflection, this is a tale of the snake's death. A good snake. A kind
snake. This snake could see almost all, because he slithered across land as
though he was swimming across water. And what he forgot, was to remember he
still went across rocks and dirt and broken glass and discarded, rusty steel.
This pain, he ignored it. And that was his undoing, as he saw all, he forgot to
feel, forgot to notice, the things that were around him and did not reach his
eyes even as they cut his skin. It's a slow death, when you don't think of
death. A more painful one, when you don't mind the pain.
PK Wins
Apr 21, 2023|Lv 39|Galadon|Karnaug vs 2: [39] Wraewir (69%), [30] Icaeos (30%, frigid smash)
PK Deaths
Apr 9, 2023 |Lv 34|The Imperial Lands|vs 2: [40] Gromblar (45%), [27] Thaen (54%, chilling touch)
Apr 21, 2023|Lv 39|The Imperial Lands|vs 1: [48] Caesoade (100%, claw)
Apr 21, 2023|Lv 39|The Imperial Lands|vs 2: [35] Anzahr (77%), [32] Skarrmak (22%, crushing force)
Apr 22, 2023|Lv 40|Feanwyyn Weald|vs 1: [36] Cyash (100%, burst of energy)
May 5, 2023 |Lv 48|The Dragon Sea|vs 1: [51] Shyen (100%, reverberating blast)
May 14, 2023|Lv 48|Hamsah Mu'tazz|vs 1: [41] Korgosodom (100%, corrosive slice)
May 17, 2023|Lv 50|The Imperial Palace|vs 1: [51] Sulirye (100%, slash)