Role

Chapter 1

Wiril was a child living in a poorer district of Galadon when fate set his
course. It's odd how one hasty choice made by a short-sighted individual can
shape the entire future of another. Wiril the child was on a direct course to
become a kind-hearted, unique individual. His mother had dreams for him,
great aspirations, she worked hard day in and day out to build him a future
better than the one she was dealt. He was always bright eyed and charismatic,
he had lessons in reading and writing, and talks of an apprenticeship at the
mage tower in Tir-Tilath were the current family gossips. Wiril listened to
his mother's tales of how great he would one day become and believed in them,
he loved his mother dearly.

And then tragedy struck, and all that changed. In some cluttered apartments
over the merchant district, Wiril was spending the morning staring down at an
Imperial Recruiter from his window. He had stick figurines of Maran that were
entertaining him on the sill as he watched and listened. He was very curious
and noticed everything, including a man in the crowd that was watching the
recruiter. Centurions patrolled the area around the recruiter, and the
pandemonium started with them. Wiril gasped in surprise as one of the
Centurion's throat was cut cleanly and suddenly by a large, blonde-headed
man. The man threw back his cloak to reveal the bright sigil of a crying
phoenix on his breastplate, and things went crazy from there. An elf was
suddenly beside the man, casting bolts of white lightning, other Imperial
Guards flooded the area, people were screaming, and Wiril watched in
wide-eyed fascination.

A great fireball came from the elf, setting the surrounding area ablaze.
Wiril remembered watching the flames creep up the dry wood of the building
and running into the house, he remembered his mother grabbing him and running
into the crowded hallway. He remembered not being able to get out, and her
frantic screams as she looked from him to flames creeping up the hall. He
remembered how she doused her thick aprons with water and shoved him into a
corner, covering him up. From then on everything was hazy. He was told that
she jumped out of the high window onto the cobbled street below, how she
screamed more for someone to help him than because of her broken back and
legs. He was told of her dedication inspiring his rescue at the hands of what
he would later know as an Imperial Shadow. A combination of city guards and
Imperial Guards managed to control the fires eventually, but not before they
tenderly licked Wiril across his head and chest, forever scarring his
features.

Fate is odd, when Imperial Order proves more compassionate than careless
murder by the Fortress of Light. And yet as it happened in this case, Wiril's
would-be dedication to the Light turned to something far darker as the
Imperial Shadow Sect controlled his upbringing and molded him to be a most loyal Shadow.