Role

Chapter 1

Bred and raised brutally by an Underdark temple dedicated to the conjuring of
demonic forces and the mixing of that blood with others, Zjarf knew only pain
and obedience in his formative years. Every year, in a break between torture
and pointless labor, a ritual was conducted where Zjarf and the other
'potentials' (as the priests called them) were strapped down and a piece of
iron were riveted into their bones. The priests believed that this would help
attune the souls to the demonic forces that they intended to pour into their
'potentials', creating a breed of demonic super soldier. Each year, a bit of
metal was sewn and riveted into the potentials, and the screams echoed
throughout the Underdark.

It was as Zjarf passed into manhood when his pinnacle ritual was conducted. He
and three others were ritually covered in a viscous ooze as the priests
chanted to dark forces. Long iron cables were attached painstakingly to their
accumulated patches of iron.

As the ritual reached its zenith, Zjarf felt a humming through his body as an
indescribable color crackled up the cables, then every muscle in his body went
taut. Distorted demonic voices thrummed through his ears, whispering promises
and threats. The chanting of the priests crescended with these voices, in
praise and supplication.

But something went wrong. An explosion rocked through the carefully prepared
chamber, and the cavernous ceiling came down, burying the priests, and their
potentials along with them.

But Zjarf survived. An emptiness had replaced the pain he had felt throughout
his life. A hunger. An envy for what could have been. And now a freedom to
take what should have been.