Moshacan the Bringer of Famine

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Title History

Skill List

PK Statistics

PK Gank-O-Meter

Immortal Comments

Role

Chapter 1

Trials had been hard for Moshacan, but his icons drew him on - those within
the guild that held true power were become his idols, his envy over their
stature driving him on. Moshacan always was friendly with the others for a
reason, for he always remembered the first rule of class of anti-paladins:
"Opportunity". Taking lives here and there, nothing has caught his eye for
the taking to add to his "collection", although the itching on his hand has
began to slowly eat away at his sanity. Driven to continue his search for
more, he has sent an application to the Chasm...speaking with the Advisor,
the Chancellor, Sekhuroth, Zentril - all that he envies, he harasses them in
hopes that one day he can join them.

His prayers for "Mr. Pearl" still continue - his Momma had always a soft spot
for the dark gods, groveling in their worship. She would drag him to the
churches, even once offering him as a sacrifice while he listened to his life
being bargained for her use. Moshacan always thought it'd be fun to be a God,
but believes he lacks something to become one - but it doesn't stop his
continual envy...

Momma someday be proud of me....

Role

Chapter 2

"No No NO!" barked N'og. With a swift backhand, he cuffed Moshacan with
enough force to slam him to the floor. Moshacan had always strived in his
training but he was the focus of all harassment in the class. Other students
had tried to kill him a few times, each time just barely missing their mark.
It was after last night, when he came in with his new "neck" that silenced
them. Moschacan had spent all his money on the best prostitute the city had,
a well known female drow unrivaled in looks - and here he was, with her neck
stitched upon his neck. The town official, the man who killed his mother,
knew it was him but just waived the punishment with a grin. The class now was
silent in rebuking him...Dazed from the blow to the head, Moshacan stood up
slowly in front of the teacher. "N'og teach you good things, but Moshacan
weak!" Another blow to the head sent Moshacan across the room to slam against
the wall. Satisified with his lesson, N'og slammed his hand on the desk
marking the end of class. As he watched the rest shuffle out quietly, he
noticed Moshacan staring at his hand with a look that even made him shiver.

The next day, the class arrived to find Moshacan early and eagerly showing
off his new prize - the teacher's hand was now grafted over his like a skin
glove. One class member gaged immediately causing the crowd to disperse and
run in fear. Moschacan grinned.

Momma never said I'd graduate...

Role

Chapter 3

Moshacan grew up in a typical rough life for any duergar. His father was dead
before he was born, killed for his gambling debts. His mother was a whore -
an ugly one at that, who had nothing but him. She named him Moshacan, meaning
Perfect, hoping he would someday grow into it but her disappointment grew
from his birth and he would hear about it everyday. He was constantly
ridiculed for his looks and lack of ability, pointing in others their
superiority. "Look at the king's sons, now those are cute boys! Nothing like
you." During one of her "business visits", the moans of animal lust became
violent. His Momma was raped and murdered by the customer who then came
staggering out of the bedroom calmly to smoke with Moshacan. The eager young
duergar stared in the eyes of his mother's killer, carefully placing his
words for he was a witness..."Momma dinna want the Eternal Abyss." The man
chuckled darkly, pulling heavily on his cigar - he was well dressed,
obviously a political official of some sort. "If ya want somethin' from
someone, juz take it. Us bastards were born in filth, it is our greed that
pulls us out tah riches. 'Member that." The man walked out, still debating if
he should kill the boy, as Moshacan asked oddly "What is it you liked of
Momma?" The man grinned, stating in rememberance "Her tongue, kid - like a
snake...one helluva bitch...." as he left with a wink. Moshacan went into the
bedroom...his mother laid there with a sickly gaze in her eyes, her throat
bruised heavily from being strangled. Using his bare hands and all his
effort, Moshacan ripped out her tongue and held it in his mouth - it was too
big, but he would keep it. Rummaging through her things, he pulled out a
needle and spool of black thread. He began to sow the tongue to his belt as
he hummed his favorite tune.

Momma always liked to sow...