Dragguul the Spectre, Elite Imperial Warlock

Role

Chapter 4

Finally, he is free from the magical poison that have been burning him from inside.
Killed by Conservator's failed attempt of mummification, his spirit has left his intoxicated, dry body.
Now, a ghost, a wraith, he'll dwell in the halls of Black Sect, serving Empire forever.

Role

Chapter 3

Suddenly, he felt a sharp pain somewhere inside of his belly. "It's
because my stomach requires some food and liquid", he thought. But that
was only a beginning...

The pain was spreading rapidly throughout his body. He felt his every
vein, and each of them burned him from inside, like millions of tiny
rivers of fire. He fell down on the ground, crouched, yelling. He was the
pain himself, and nothing besides that pain existed. Then a saving
darkness came.

When he came to his feelings, he was lying on something soft. Above, he
saw a simple wood ceiling. Looking around, he saw a simple room, likely
of a small house. By the window, an old man was standing, looking at
Dragguul intently.

"So, you woke," he said. "Quite an interesting... thing you are"

"Thing?" questioned Dragguul. "I'm not a thing, I'm a human!"

"Oh... so you do not know what you are?", laughed old man. "I found you
because you are full of magic. When I felt that power, I thought it's a
skystone fell. You know, sometimes they are full of magic, too, and worth
some good money".

"I don't understand it...", weakly said Dragguul, raising his arm. "What
is it? Why I see through my body?!"

"I think it's a side effect of your... let's say it, condition", answered
old man. "See, you are vanishing from this world."

"Vanishing... Vanishing?! I cannot vanish, I just woke up after..."

"Oh, I know!" interrupted him the old man. "I've read tales about some
prince, sleeping at our cemetery, who will wake to achieve a great power
and avenge... for us all" he sighed. "I thought it's a beautiful tale,
but you are proving it's true..."

"And what now?"

"And now you'll die?"

"It's unfair! There should be a way!"

"Then, you have a little time to find a way to survive. So. Mind telling
me what happened to you?"

Telling his story to that old man, Dragguul thought that it's just a
waste of time. But, he saved him and sensed magic that was eroding his
body. When he told about sleeping elixir, and the wizard named
Xolthrindar, old man laughed.

"Oh, I know Xolthrindar, that crazy old bastard!", he giggled. "He is
living not far from here".

"But... didn't I sleep for ages?"

"Oh yes, that you did. But see... Xolthrindar is a lich, and you are,
likely, one of his experiments. I think it's the best way for you while
you have some time, is to visit necromancer's guild and let them assess
you. They should know what to do with that... the condition of yours.
Want some tea, perhaps?"

But Dragguul didn't want any tea. He stood up from the bed and, despite
that his head was spinning, and every move caused more pain, he walked to
the exit.

"Thank you, old man. When I... find a solution, I'll reward you."

"Good luck... young Zepesh", said old man to him. "Good luck, you'll need
it, but I wouldn't bet my money on you."

"We'll see", said Dragguul and left the building.

Role

Chapter 2

He looked around. The blinding sun burned his eyes through the trees
leaves. His mouth was dry, and he barely could move his heavy feet. He
totally was exhausted. Then, he saw them. Tombs. Tombstones. One "his"
was his name: "Dragguul Zepesh, Beloved Son".

That meant very little to him, so he decided to examine other graves.
There were plenty, and all of the same family - Zepesh. "Vlad Zepesh, 1st
Age before the Omen", "Marianne Zepesh, 2nd Age before Omen"... Wait.
What does that mean - ages..? Somehow he knew, that there were only one.
One, when he was born. Vlad name sounded familiar, and he decided that
it's his father's name.

He returned to his own grave, trying to recollect his old memories, but
to no avail. He turned away from the hole he dug but then stopped. No, he
definitely missed something. He descended into the hole and began to dig
until he saw his own coffin. Inside, there was a silver box. He
recognized it. Inside, he found an ancient letter:

"Dear, beloved son!
I have no other ways to save you, forgive me. When you'll wake, we'll be
dead already - holy forces of inquisition are on the march to our keep.
We have gathered everyone, but as you know, we aren't warriors. Only your
father knows how to hold the blade, I pray for Gods that his magic will
protect us!

But I cannot risk your life. I have you a potion that sir Xolthrindar
made himself, per my humble request. He said it will make you look like a
dead, for a while, but then you'll wake up. If we'll survive, you won't
see this letter. But if you read it... it means we are dead. You should
sleep long enough for our enemies to leave, and this is only a way I may
hide you. Calling us abominations, they'll spare no single life, should
they prevail. I'll bury you, and you'll sleep until it's all over.

Forgive me that I did it without your knowledge. I know you would never
agree, and you would stay in a fight together with your father. I cannot
lose you both!

Please live, please live for our sake!
We love you!

Annie and Vlad Zepesh."

Sleep long enough. He looked at the tombstones. Indeed, he slept long
enough, or maybe a bit longer.

Role

Chapter 1

When he woke up, it was darkness all around him. He tried to stand, but
he couldn't move. Someone bound him tightly, and put a blindfold on his
face? He tried to move again and realized that his arms are bandaged to
his chest. Then, he stumbled his head on something solid, but relatively
soft. He recognized wood.

When you cannot move, when you cannot see, it is said that your other
feelings are becoming sharper. He tried to listen, but for avail: he
heard absolutely nothing. Bound, blind, deaf - he was lying somewhere,
imprisoned. What that all was about?

He tried to recall the last thing that he remembered... and nothing came
to his mind. Nothing. None. Zero. Nada. Not even his name. Emptiness.
Hollow inside. No one.

His head began to spin. What caused that, he wondered - recognition of
the situation or lack of air? Wait. Lack of air? Air! He realised one
very important thing.

Trying to stay calm, he began to move his hands, trying to release them.
It wasn't difficult, and he chuckled at himself. Of course, it could not
be otherwise.

When he released his hands, he pulled his shirt over his face, covering
his head with it completely. Now, when the risk of asphyxiation was
decreased, he pulled his legs to his belly and kicked the "ceiling".
Again, and again, until he heard cracking sound, and something fell down
on him. It smelled like dirt.

His guess was confirmed: he was buried. Buried alive.

He moved earth from his chest down, towards his feet, and more fell down
from above. Rinse, repeat, So he did, again and again, until he felt the
fresh, Ah... finally, he crawled out from his grave, and laughed,
embracing the night. He had no idea why did he doing it.

Immortal Comments

PK Gank-O-Meter

PK Statistics

Skill List

PK Wins

PK Deaths

Leveling History

Timeline

Mob Deaths

Edges

Flaws

Racial Edges

Class Edges

Edges