Role

Chapter 3

Zjarf had felt the call of Chasm, and spoke with the Chancellor on his
joining. She demanded he learn the history of both friends and foes, get to
know them deeply. And to hunt after the truth of the Shadow Plane.

Per her instructions, he began to weave alliances and rivalries with equal
abandon. In the forests of Thera, he was beaten back by the druids, yet he did
not falter. The Fortress sent hunting parties after him, but bided his time,
using the so-called laws of the world to his advantage when he could, and
striking when one of them inevitably fell behind from their eager pursuit.

Between battles he entered the Lyceum, and found a poor scattering of clues
about the Shadow Plane. But they were clues, and he noted each meticulously in
blood upon parchment made of elfin skin.

The Light had been blessed by the gods, and jealously protected their riches.
Why had they been chosen? They were hypocrites, one and all. Taking
everything, and leaving the scraps for shunned folks like Zjarf to fight over.

When he fulfilled his potential, he would wrench it back from their coveting
grip, he swore it, his teeth gritted and eyes slitted. Skreenak had spoken to
him, demanding he bring the skulls of five lightwalkers. As his axe cleaved
through his fifth Lightwalking victim's skull, the paladin Lasuira, Zjarf felt
the thrill of victory and success. He would pray to find out what more tribute
he could provide to the Bloodmaw.