Issiver Vahl the MageSlayer, Enforcer of Dagdan

Role

Chapter 5

For many, war is fair and honorable and they are filled with courage until
they start losing. Of course it can not be fair for there to be victor. One
side will always have an advantage. I hear much talk of courage but only a
coward who holds the advantage challenges another with insults of cowardice.
Honor is something that often disappears the moment the fog of war descends.

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A Nexan horde has delivered to me a humiliating defeat and stripped me. This
was expected sooner or later. Though I can only blame myself for not noticing
something during the battle.

But their actions do much to reveal how I am breaking them. Only the weak
allow the enemy to shape them. And I do shape them. They give up their ideals
so easily, if I continue to press they will continue to weaken. They bend
easily and I will bend them until they break.

They have also revealed to me how little I care for the trinkets I wear.
These possessions mean nothing to me, it is only the defeat that fuels the
fire. I will gather new gear with ease, and it will come and go. And future
defeats will anger me equally.

They have also thrown down a challenge to me. They have done this hoping I
would falter. That I would not be able to recover. That I would fill with
anger and act irrationally. I am full of anger, but that was always there.

What they have done will change nothing that I do. Nothing. It only
strengthens my resolve and confirms what was suspected all along. That I am
winning. Each strike of the enemy tempers my resolve as the forge hammer does
steel.

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I have been named a mageslayer for a reason. It is not to change what I do.

Lady Iunna does seem to smile upon me as Lord Thror sleeps. I have been given
more than I ever hoped. The smallest gift from the Battle Lords is the
greatest honor.

There are more debts to collect. This time of reflection has passed.

Role

Chapter 4

Thror has honored me by allowing me to stand in his presence. Even taking the
time to tell me how worthless I was. A boot to my arse is the only thing that
could have honored me more. My faith is stronger than ever.

It also proves, without a doubt, that keeping a ruby in his shrine entrance
statue is important. The gem represents fire, it is strong and pure, and some
are unshapped by mortal hands. I will continue to do this.

Thror had asked me to bring him the skull of a Scion mage. I stalked Detogu
for much time. I fought him several times. I stole all of his wands and
Detogu promised to waste much of my time for this insult. But the tactic did
prove to hamstring him and left him vulnerable to my attacks. In fact, he was
forced to keep his last remaining wand in his hand. Clutching it like his
most prized possession.

At one point I watched Detogu's flying and wraithform fall at the same time!
Just as he awoke I tripped at empty air, a trick I'd never seen from a
necromancer. This sorcerer's foul magic has many deceptions. I was not able
to collect his debt on this night.

An alert came from the Refuge that Ragloghlin attacked the tree to reclaim
the Ebony Scepter. From Udgaard to Prosimy I ran and the Anti-paladin was
dispatched with ease. But I can hardly feel proud, for this was the easy way
to complete Thror's task.

The call for aid almost proved to be a trap as a pair of Outlander mages,
Cgadi and Balete attack me in quicksand as I departed. I escaped, of course,
because those fool mages are no match for me.

As Rayihn's constallation grows in strength, and her followers multiply, the
world needs Thror now more than ever to counter the threat. Of course she may
do as she pleases, she is a god. But many of the Island follower her. Thror
may not possess as many followers, but he is Thror! He is a stronger god.
Even if his constellation only shows bright once a month, one of his
followers will do more to shape this world than a hundred of Rayihn's.

Role

Chapter 3

Some hunt mages because they've stolen a power of the gods.

Some despise magic because their god commands it. Thror is one such god. He
is a my god.

But ultimately, it is vengeance that motivates me. All mages are guilty. They
will pay for what was done by their kind in the past. They will suffer a
hardship at my paws for avoiding the toil of honest Therans. And they will
pay for what they will try to do in the future.

Some mages have good intentions and seemingly act with benevolence. Others
are foul sorcerers and wield a slaver's whip. Intentions matter little. The
carrot and the stick are both ways to enslave. Dull claws, dimmed mind and a
broken back is the result. The gift of the magi has never and will never
bring us anything but pain.

Generations of pain, impossible without magic, we suffered. We bear a scar of
this deep within our soul. We are free, but that is all. Nothing has been
done to attone, no reparations made.

There is a debt upon the ledger of history.

Magic puts them in the red.

I collect the debt of mages.

Blood is the only payment I accept.

Role

Chapter 2

The great Thror sleeps. All is well. When he awakes he will find all sorts of
drinks, there is a chance one will be to his liking. I have delivered to him
a tribute of the following.


ginger mead from Hillcrest
a OneHeart wine skin for an elf
a glass of jaette spirits
jaette grog, dwarven ale from Udgaard
absinthe, spiced cider and apple brandy from Tir Tilath
a mug of mead, a stein of grog, a shot of whiskey, flask of Arak, Arvam's
Passion, Kirin Gold and Azure Fields from Voralian
shot glass from halfling lands
stout from South Daerien
Norman's Beer from Dagdan
a bottle of Sithian from Darsylon
red beer from GAladon
a milkshake from the Emerald forest
Ambergrass ale from the eastern road
almond flavored milk from Hamsah
blue arak from the Oryxx Steppes
homebrewed beer from Balator
dandelion wine from the Seaport
orange scotch and frothy red beer from Arkham
dark ale from Barovia and Prosimy
Ostalagian wine, a flaming cocktail, bottle of sparkling jade liquid,
domestic and imported ale from Seantryn
a mug of the howling bear from Arturi
a jigger of 'Gerylanst Gold'

I imagine he will not care for milk or wine. Maybe he'll use the wine to
deglaze a tiamat steak, and maybe the milk will be useful in baking some
bread....or something. I'll let him decide.

Role

Chapter 1

Doubt was filling Issiver Vahl's mind. His stomach was in knots. It was his
first day of adulthood, no longer a kitten he was 'encouraged' to leave the
pack behind. Shadowlurking on streets of Galadon he was absorbing the sights,
sounds and smells. Very few noticed his presence.

He'd never seen a mage in all his life, but the history of the felar was a
common tale of his childhood. He would kill mages. Every. Single. One.
Contemplating murder in the shadows an anger began welling up inside him. The
debt of the magi had never been repaid.

A trio of adventurers exited a shop nearby and began walking down the street
towards him. Two were the burly sort, possibly bodyguards, and the other was
a grey-bearded mage of some kind. A very powerful one by the looks of him.

The group paused a moment just a few steps from Issiver. They were talking
about some ruined castle and some treasure of legends. He could make out the
words well enough to see plans of an ambush in their future.

His gaze fixed upon the mage. And then it happened. Without him noticing a
wave of passivity filled him. He began purring like he'd only purred as a
suckling kitten.

At this noise the trio's conversation stopped and now they peered into the
shadows. Swords drawn. The mage quickly muttered some strange words and
suddenly Issiver found himself covered with a pink glowing dust. Still he
purred.

Sizing up the young felar the party took a more relaxed stance. One of the
brutes was sheathing his sword, and the other's sword dangled by his side as
he snickered. The mage approached Issiver and began scratching the cat's
cheek. Issiver now felt completely content.

After a few moments the trio departed leaving Issiver stunned and feeling
very alone. The urge was great to run after the mage and follow him, a
vestige of felar enslavement. He began to feel dirty and violated. The anger
was returning, filling him until unleashing itself in a feral growl. For a
moment a quiet awe filled the streets before the bustle of city life resumed.

Issiver was free again and he knew his purpose.

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