Role

Chapter 1

You find yourself staring into a chamber dimly lit by two flickering torches.
Mystic runes and pictographs or varying shapes and color are carved about
the room. A large block shaped onyx altar is the focal point of the room.
Appearances lead you to believe that the large warrior you see upon it is
held to the altar against his will, but you fail to notice any restraints.
Barely visible in the shadows near the altar is a slim dark-elf in a
multi-folded ruby robe.

Within the shadows a lone dark-elf hovers over the prone humanoid form.
"They believe strength is something that can be found within muscle in bone."
A long ebony-toned finger slowly traces across the barbarian's arm. As the
finger passes over the flesh it begins to twist and tear, quickly reforming
only for the process to begins anew. "True strength rests in the spirit and
exercising it to accrue your will." Once more the yelps of pain reverberate
over the land. Slowly he paces the altar the steps are soundless, but you
can sense the methodical pattern. "The foremost way to ensure one's will is
done is to ensure that one does not sway too deeply into the brink of Chaos
or cling too tightly to the shackles of Order. To embrace either to deeply
can lead to one following an unexamined life. This is what the ignorant magi
of the Thethra-ran failed to grasp." With a slight snarl the dark-elf mounts
the prone mass that was once the barbarian and plunges his dagger deep before
raising is arms high into air. With a shout he yells, "As the sleepers once
flocked to the Father, I come to you the Lady of Demons. Mother! I have
awakened embrace your servant and allow me to continue my existence as the
extension of your will."