Iskrith Tora'weh the Woe-Wrought Witness of Weh, Chancellor of Eternal Night, Breathless Beheld

Role

Chapter 8

As he gathered Ysigrath's peat, pudding and marshweed for his specially
formulated embalming fluid, Iskrith spoke to himself aloud:

"This I now see. Goddess Rarywey does not stop me because she does not want
this to stop.

She tests me. The Goddess of Weh wants only her truest worshiper to walk in
her embrace. To feed the Eddies. To return energy to Her and Her universe. To
evolve Sra to better fulfill Weh.

I will be Her walking Weh! A part of Her. Her maw. To bite, tear, chew.

Yes. This is my place."

His eyes began to shine more brightly, and his self-loathing seemed to lift
for perhaps the first time since his exile. It followed perhaps the darkest
period, brought on by doubts sown by the Fortress shapeshifter Bazz.

Bazz told Iskrith that he would never truly have Rarywey's favor. A
necromancer never could. Iskrith would only make Her sad, unlike Her favorite
follower ever, the elven Herald Lyeeth. Lyeeth was pleasing to her. Iskrith is
not.

But Iskrith realized Her disappointed gaze was only a test. That Her request
to wait longer before attempting to Become was a hint to ensure his success.
She sees him. Truly. In fact, She may even count on him.

For once, Iskrith understood what it meant to look forward to the future.

Role

Chapter 7

Iskrith has begun studying the Shadow Plane, seeking to gain an understanding
of its ecology to comprehend the motivations and behaviors of the alien
realm's predators. In the Prime Material Plane, predators are predictable to
him. Their place in the natural cycle is clear, and their hunger holds no
mystery.

But what drives the predators of the Shadow Plane? Is there a natural cycle in
this otherworld? Is Weh present there, too?

Iskrith wonders whether an understanding of the Shadow's predators would give
him insights or advantages in this world. Could the behavior of the Shadow's
hunters be the key to predatory innovation?

He has drawn together some clues through books and observations of their
behavior in this realm, but knows he would have to enter the Shadow Plane to
experience it himself and observe them in their natural habitat.

Role

Chapter 6

Iskrith's worldview is growing ever darker, thanks to his inability to fully
comprehend or process his emotions. There is a great deal of simmering rage
that he does not know how to express. He attributes it to his disgust for
others' inability or refusal to see the world as he does.

Scion
* He desires to reshape the world into a bleaker, more vicious place, where
Weh is ever-present and always seen. In this world, he would be an apex
predator, and not seen as prey by lesser, Weh-denying beings. This has made
him fascinated with the Shadow Plane and led him to seek entrance to the
Scions of Eternal Night. In his view, this is not entirely at odds with
nature, but would in fact help to restore the natural order, which has been
corrupted by civilization to preserve life.

Becoming
* Iskrith finds only one path attractive: the Vampyre. Liches, mummies and
wights do not fit into his predator-prey binary and seem to lack a place in
the natural order, and thus access to the true pleasures of life.

Abandonment
* Iskrith has called to Rarywey, but has not received answers of late. Though
this is common and typical of any god or goddess, even for their most favored
followers, Iskrith is not taking this well due to his deep-seated abandonment
trauma.

Role

Chapter 5

Iskrith is not used to individuality.

Before, he was part of a collective: A cell in the organism of Ysigrath. His
feelings were harmonious with the flow of Sra. There was no internal conflict.
There was no desire. "Self" was a fluid concept.

When he was disconnected from that collective, he was alone for the first time
in his life and not equipped to handle that.

Here is how this has affected him:

* He immediately began searching for something else to be a part of. He was
certain he would find belonging in the Goddess Rarywey, the patron of
Death/Weh. He found a strange and intoxicating mix of acceptance and
rejection. He is called "Breathless," along with others, yet there is only a
loose kinship between them. Some have even tried to harm him.

* He values his life, but not in the same way as others seem to. He sees it as
something to be spent or used for some greater purpose. This is due to his
fundamental view of the world that each person is but a part of a much greater
whole. The supremely vain and self-centered are confusing and silly to him.

* He has a great deal of anger over his rejection, but does not understand the
feeling at all. He instead integrates his darkest urges into his naturalistic
understanding of the world.

* He believes it is his calling to make Weh seen by the K'sra, and all others
who live in denial of their ultimate fate

* He has at times begun referring to himself as Iskrith Tora'weh, a mockery of
the sacred hero of K'sra legend (Tora'sra, translation: Avenger of Life, who
is foretold to wipe away all Weh from Thera).

Role

Chapter 4

One day, one of the same cityguards who had helped Iskrith was patrolling
the dark alley when Iskrith emerged from the guild. Iskrith bowed his head
in thanks toward the guard. The guard sneered back at him, not appearing
to remember what had been an important kindness to Iskrith.

"Necromancer. Don't be casting anything noxious on the city streets, under
pain of death."

Iskrith asked what the guard meant. "It means we'll kill you, and make it
hurt."

"Why do you say pain of death? There is no pain in Weh. Pain is on Sra's side
of the threshold to Weh."

The guard seemed irritated and unnerved, and wandered off muttering something
Iskrith assumed to be profane.

Iskrith thought back to the mangled elf after he entered Weh. How his eyes
clouded and glazed over. How his skin grew pale. How the blood congealed. How
the insects and creatures went to work, violently rending away pieces of the
dead elf.

He thought about this scene as he passed the butcher's stall by Market Square,
and saw families laughing and joking over a mosaic of Weh. As the butcher
wrapped neatly sliced pieces of Weh in paper, as if to hide it. As the
customers took it home to put it over fire and decorate it, as if they could
not stomach the thought of eating it if they could see it for what it was.

Outside of the guild, this place was not much different than K'sra Village,
Iskrith concluded.

"I am not the monster," he whispered, watching a man, woman and three children
leaving the butcher shop. "You are."

Role

Chapter 3

He found an outpost of saurians who could also see as he does. They urged him
to be thankful for the gift of sight and knowledge that he had been given.
Most do not receive it so suddenly. Now, he could choose to embrace Sra,
rather than merely accept it for his ignorance of Weh.

But Iskrith could not embrace Sra. Sra did not embrace him. Sra exists only
because of Weh. Sra exists to create Weh. Sra is the ungrateful beneficiary of
the pain of this transition. It is Weh that brings numbness and stillness and
peace.

Iskrith resolved to show them Weh until they can see it, and see him.

Serpents and vines continued to haunt his nightmares, even as he traveled to a
nearby city built of cold blocks neither Sra nor Weh.

There, the strange, warm-blooded people draped themselves in Weh. They wove
clothing from plants in Weh. From beasts in Weh, they crafted boots and armor.

Iskrith did not know the common tongue. Thankfully, he was not the first
saurian to reach Galadon, so his wild gesticulations and repetition of the
word "Weh" was not totally lost on the city's denizens. Guards first directed
him to the graveyard, and then, hesitantly, to the necromancer's guild.

When he arrived there, he knew he was in the right place. For here, he knew,
he would deepen his understanding of Weh. He began to study, using
diagram-filled anatomy books to begin learning to read, and observing
interactions in the streets to learn the common tongue.

Before long, he had seen and done and heard things that he never could have
imagined in his old life. The serpents and vines and gasping, rattling elf -
that hideous mass of Sra in transition - still crept into his mind from time
to time. Sra is a monstrous and cruel thing.

And so it was with great surprise that Iskrith learned of the fear and
loathing directed at his field of study, Weh. How could this world, with Weh
used and displayed by everyone, everywhere, see Iskrith as a monster?

Role

Chapter 2

For weeks, Iskrith roamed the K'sra Village like a ghost, unseen and unheard.
Even his touch was met with confusion, as though the recipients of his touches
were under threat by some invisible assailant.

His heart beat once in harmony with the Village and the swamp. His breath was
his own motif in Ysigrath's deafening symphony of life.

Now, it all seemed discordant. The ravenous vines and serpents of the swamp
haunted his dreams. He saw them rending the elf. Their own movements, powerful
and desperate and hungry.

Screams pierced the swamp's dark and thick air from time to time, each more
alluring and repulsive than the last. He tried to ignore them at first. And
then he went to un-see them. To stare at the corpses until they no longer
emerged from the maelstrom of life in the swamp to reach his notice. He tried
this many times, but he was still not seen.

A new idea occurred to him as he gazed out into the swamp. He caught a small,
live crocodile and, with a claw, slit its belly open, and placed the bleeding
creature over his head.

He rushed to his mother, brother and sisters and called out to them as the
crocodile still thrashed.

"Do you see me now?" he shouted. "I have returned!"

They stared at the crocodile. His sister gently pulled the crocodile to her
chest. "This must be seen by Jhel'nra," she said.

Iskrith followed her to the hallowed home of the village shaman. She placed
the creature on the ground and Jhel'nra uttered a blessing over it. Iskrith's
sister knelt beside it and watched its final thrashes. When it ceased to move,
her trance seemed immediately broken and she stood up and thanked Jhel'nra.
The shaman suddenly stiffened up, his black eyes darting about.

"Someone is here," he said.

"Yes! Me! I am here!" Iskrith cried. "Please, help me!"

"Someone... something..." Jhel'nra continued. "Something that does not belong.
Whatever you are, leave now or be purged!"

Carnivorous vines rose up from the swamp to surround Jhel'nra and began to
slither toward Iskrith. In his mind, Iskrith saw the elven squire, torn and
devoured as he screamed.

Iskrith left the village, and then the swamp. He crossed a sea he would later
learn was named Despair.

It seemed a fitting name.

Role

Chapter 1

Iskrith still remembers the sound that twisted his insides and quickened his
breath.

It was sharp and high. It soared and rattled, and then fell into a flat,
monotonous moan. It was repulsive and alluring, unlike anything he had ever
heard.

The noise drew him from his family's home in the K'sra Village. It had come
from the swamp. He looked and saw nothing. Then, the long body of a great
serpent slid through the foliage and the murk and the swamp returned to
silence and stillness.

Iskrith may have forgotten about that sound over time. But he would hear it
again weeks later, this time as he gathered marshweed just beyond the edge of
the village. Again, he looked and saw nothing.

It was not until the third time that he truly saw what he had been looking at
all along.

A young elven squire was being dragged into the swamp to the west of the
village, his voice crushed out of him by a carnivorous vine. A serpent arose
from the muck to take a bite out of the still-moving prey, engaging in a brief
and morbid tug-of-war that resolved when the elf's outstretched arm followed
the serpent into the muck. A spurting stump remained, and the elf let out a
ragged scream, his eyes primal and vacant.

More creatures emerged from the swamp over the next minutes and hours, each
taking a piece out of the elf for itself. Iskrith marveled at the scene. He
had never been taught a word for it. For many hours, he was entranced. For
nearly 30 years, he had lived but a few paces from this bizarre ritual of
taking, and yet he had never seen anything like it.

He returned home to his mother and father and brothers and sisters to share
his story and ask questions.

But their eyes did not see him, and their ears did not hear his voice, no
matter how loudly he screamed. The foliage that made up the village no longer
responded to him.

Among the K'sra, Iskrith was no longer seen.

He would only learn later that he had seen Weh, something that K'sra cannot.
He had become something else.

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