Drezen Maln'Akar the Filthy Boot Thief, Advisor to the Chancellor

Role

Chapter 8

In a clinging darkness, within the bowels of the black earth, a sharp
"clickety-clack" sets the teeth of sightless horrors on edge as an ancient
duergar works a chisel upon a wall of stone. Angered as they are by the
raucous, they dare not try to silence it, for even they can sense the
deeper shadows surrounding and entwining the intrusive creature. Twisting
and writhing, they inspire a bestial terror in the miniscule minds of
this place's inhabitants, though the duergar seems to take no notice of
them. For him there is only the hammer, the chisel, and the stone.

Having only just begun his work, there is little yet scribed upon the walls,
and it is impossible not to notice the broad plaque of mithril over the
archway under which he stands - it remains blank, awaiting the finishing
touches of the chisel once the current project has been completed. Inside the
chamber piles of gold and jewels from the far-flung empires of the realm
have been gathered. Blades of unspeakable craftsmanship, bearing diabolical
runes, rest in custom-carved recesses within the walls. Names and dates,
etched in the Skozzak dialect of the clans of the North, decorate the spaces
between the weapons, and appear to be a record of some kind.

The ancient duergar makes a final, resounding strike, allowing his hammer to
fall especially hard as he finalizes his work upon the eastern wall of
this expansive chamber. Out of habit he wedges the chisel under his arm, handle
sticking out, and taps the hammer against his hand as he surveys his work,
creating a dull thud reminiscent of cobblestones colliding. Satisfied with
what he has created, he turns and hobbles towards the entryway, causing the
eerie light of the massive, glowing bloodstone set at the apex of the chamber
to boil with unnatural shadows - shadows not cast by anyone or anything, yet
cast nonetheless.

As he unfolds a small step-ladder and climbs up it to begin working upon the
plaque, the masterpiece he had been focused on can finally be seen. Rock turned
to life by the hands of a master, it tells the tale of his beginnings in this
world through amazing depictions and vivid, concise wording. A particularly
insightful panel of this vast work speaks volumes of the one who created it...


==============================================================================
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| |
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| Would it surprise you to know that I came from common stock? |
| Common though my blood may be, my will is not, for unlike so |
| many lost Skozzaks, I rejected the traditions which have |
| been cherished for ages untold. Though the Skazzoks fiercely |
| guarded their belief that they were of Jullias' blood, I |
| considered those who touted this ancient tradition as mere |
| fools who clung to the hope of the Warder's favor as a child |
| might cling to notions borne of dreams alone. They expected |
| what? Rewards for unfounded dedication to a sleeping God? It |
| was foolish

Role

Chapter 7

Resting atop a raised platform near the northern wall, upon what appears to be
a place designated for a sarcophagus, is a time-worn journal bound in leather.
Though the pages rustle with the brittle rasp of sun-dried snake skin, they do
not tear or tatter as they are turned. The rythmic clanging of the hammer and
chisel induce an unexpected, if not unwelcome trance as the yellowed parchment
reveals the first entry ever made by the ancient duergar. The style of the
script is shockingly crude and the diction is reminiscent of a hostile youth's,
which deviates greatly from the general aire of the material now being engraved
permanently into the walls of the chamber. The accounts upon the first few pages
are hard to read and rife with spelling and grammatical errors. Strangely, the
veryfirst page seems to have been ripped out, and upon the inside of the cover
there is a broad black mark; below it is a rune which must signify ownership by
the duergar.

______________________________________________________________________________
| |
| |
| |
| been a *ard couple o years. Things aint so easy without my shite |
| shu*v-- shuvlin b**das ta help with raids. i go*e hungry most nights |
| s*ns then, but got me sum new peepol now. We been raidin up an |
| down the <unintelligible word> weald road but they g*tt*n w*se. |
| Lost Tr**han tunyt- niht--- ##***##*## tu moons back. Trethan |
| was a dum shite. I sed LO*K BOY, THAS A WIZAD!! but he went up |
| riyt bold-lik ta his face an h*ld up his boot knife ta tha mans |
| mageelookin nose. Then he says GIVE OVA Y** COINS ER T*IS KNI*E'LL |
| BE IN Y*R A*SE! Fun*y thing, the tall fella l*ffed, sed sumthin like |
| 'sausbra' an then Trethan fell down all green-like in his fase. |
| But mister quiktung mage boy didna s*e me so I snooked up an lopt |
| awf his smart hed. Trethan was cr**lin aroun dyin, so i let *im. |
| Funny f**la, but i liked his boots betta than em. Th* rest of us |
| fleesd the wizad. Gess his name was 'Gentraz' cause it was wrote |
| a*l prety insid this book. Luckee me cause this thing look* real |
| new. also got a sc**ll he was havin th*t made my eys all weird, then |
| my hed hurt, but all a suden I kinda new how to wr*t* lik tha wizad |
| cause i think it was some kinda memry he had made the page tell me. |
| Suren it was for sumwon else, but i kno* it now. if i can rememba... |
| |
| "thengs are movin forwad as planed Chanselor. dagd*n will |
| hide us un**l we are reddy to strik th* ***tress o Lyt**" |
| |
| now i aint dum by no stre**h, an I know what a Chanselor is. they |
| deelin with th shados and sed to be only a mith. Like Kor who s'posed |
| ta eet yer guts ifn yu-yuu--- yue talk when dwarfs

Role

Chapter 6

Considerable time has passed since the old duergar began his work on the earthen
walls of the chamber, and for now he seems satisfied. He climbs down from from
the ladder upon which he had been standing while affixing carved slabs of dull,
pitch-black stone upon the ceiling. Upon them are amazingly accurate portraits
of the night sky, with each star represented by brilliant diamonds of varying
shades and subtle hues. Slowly, he makes his way out of the chamber, taking a
moment to gaze upon a crumbling, tattered pair of boots that look to be extremely
old. Chuckling to himself as he reminisces about an old memory, he pulls a thick
cigar out of the recesses of his clothing and holds a cupped palm towards the end.
With no apparent source, a tiny flame springs to life in his hand and lights the
cigar. He closes his fingers around the flame and makes a slight rubbing motion
against his palm, leaving only a trace of smoke. His shadow seems to linger in
the weak red light of the chamber for a while too long to be natural before
rejoining its master in the black tunnel beyond.

He walks for a long while, enjoying the motions of smoking the cigar with a
patience known only to the elderly. After a time a swishing, liquid sound can
be heard coming from up ahead in the darkness. He seems unfazed as he walks
towards it. Minutes later the swishing fades into gurgling and splashing that
sounds similar to water, but somehow thicker...heavier. He stops, takes one last
puff on the stogy in his fingers, and then mashes the rest against his palm
until not a single spark remains. A blackness abruptly returns to rule the
tunnel and strange, alien whispers begin to snake through the stale air like
a tide of vipers...

"Khab'ek!"

A brilliant orb of sizzling white light suddenly snaps into being - a thing which
no duergar in his right mind would want to be present for. But, curiously, this one
is wearing a thick pair of tinted goggles that he must have donned in the darkness,
and now stands with a triumphant grin as the shadows are repulsed.

"Yeh test me even now? Yeh know who the boss is, fellas. Don't be makin' me get
the urge ta show yeh the ropes again."

A plaintive wail echoes from the darkness, and seeming satisfied, Drezen turns
his attention to the roiling river of what can only be described as "black blood"
that flows wildly through the earth. He walks along the bank of the river until
he comes to a place where the liquid is calm. With a bit of effort he kneels,
casting long shadows from the now distant orb of light, and looks at his dim
reflection peering back at him. He looks weary for a moment as the obviousness
of his age hits him, but after a moment he looks as stolid as ever.

Memories that only he can see seem to flicker to life in the black murk, reminding
him of conquests and tribulations long past, as well as those trials still at work
up above the shelter of this labyrinth. He comes here often in order to reflect on
his life, which he believes is a practice that he believes necessary in order to
remain in his God's favor, for Daevryn always questions the hearts of men; Did you
honor my teachings? Did you survive the trials I set before you, only to become
weakened by the effort later? My chosen are made not of the weak lime and chalk,
bu

PK Gank-O-Meter

Role

Chapter 5

Illegal name, try another.
Name: n the journal has improved by leaps and bounds
within a short span of pages. Much of the previous entries described acts of
violence and vengeance against Drezen's enemies. Of particular note was a passage
detailing the destruction of a pair of would-be assassins; next to the paragraph
is an accurate rendition of the legendary Battle Axe of Rah, which is apparently
a trophy from that battle. In the margins and upon the backs of every entry
are words repeated over and over, as well as alphabets in the common tongue.
They look to be writing exercises.

The word "Shooloo" draws attention to the following passage...

______________________________________________________________________________
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| At my Lord's mansion I met the Shooloo himself, a man...but not |
| a man. I don't know what it was, but I think it had teats like a |
| woman, yet still looked too manly. Anyway, once I got past that... |
| <duergar rune for "strangeness"> there was much to be learned from |
| her...er, him...whatever. He told me how to impress the Lord, and |
| get his attention. He said, after learning a thing or two about what |
| drives me, "Slay ten of those who walk in the Light by the thirtieth |
| rank of your guild," and so I got on it. I was plannin' to do plenty |
| of killing anyway, but this is a fine goal, and one that'll be a |
| challenge. |
| |
| |
| (A list of names has been written at the bottom of the page, with some |
| brief notes attached to each, such as "elven magi - transmutation - girly,"|
| "stormish warrior - axes - big scar on cheek." It looks to be a hit list.) |
| |
|____________________________________________________________________________|

Role

Chapter 4

This letter was retrieved from the private quarters of
the Chancellor, Haratzi, after his death. It is the
first record of Drezen Maln'Akar's affiliation with the
Scions of Eternal Night.

_________________________________________________________
| |
| Long have I tracked the whisper-quiet steps of |
| the Chosen in search of their director...you. I |
| have spent many long nights whiling the hours |
| away with my face buried in some tome or another, |
| or questioning those who might hold some tie to |
| the Fold, and I have found you at long last. I am |
| a combatant, not a sorcerer, though truth be told, |
| if life had presented the chance to join the ranks |
| of the Legion, I would have taken it. Instead, I |
| have honed my wits and my blades, and have studied |
| the methods of the greatest warlords; Llorenthos, |
| Thror, Minalcar and my revered and ancient kin, |
| Dwoggurd. |
| |
| What I bring is the absence of subtlety |
| where there now exists a veil of obfuscation. While |
| I believe that most who seek to usher in the Eternal |
| Night must work in secrecy, sewing the seeds of the |
| Prophecy, there are those like myself who must |
| work in the open, making the climate right for the |
| coming of the shadows. |
| |
| Know my name, Chancellor, and may I be flayed |
| by the very claws of the Nightborn and swallowed |
| whole by the earthen maw of Lord Daevryn if I should |
| fail to provide all that I offer: |
| |
| Drezen Maln'Akar |
|_______________________________________________________|

Curiously, a rather feeble warding spell was placed upon
the document. Whether it was ensorceled by Drezen or someone
else can only be guessed at, though it is doubtful that
a wizard of the Night would weave such a weak incantation.

Role

Chapter 3

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Drezen has realized his dream to become one of the Chosen who will rule over
the world when the Prophecy of the Eternal Night comes to fruition. Not
surprisingly, he was given a cold reception from the few elder magi who still
hold to the infernal pact. But, if they had seemed needy or desperate for the
power he could bring to their lot, he would have sensed the weakness and set
out to have them assassinated. As it stands, he's pleased with the strength
that has been demonstrated, and he has certainly made a point to try their
patience with his bold duergish manner.

Having failed to be admitted into the guild of dark knights after leaving the
Skozzak territories, Drezen deemed them as foolish not to see his potential,
keeping his priceless warrior pride in tact. At that point he joined the guild
of warriors in order to develop his strengths, for even though he was considered
too old and inept in the arcane arts to be dubbed an anti-paladin, he was always
good with steel. Drezen has since gained some small measure of fame by making
sure to leave his defeated foes with an autograph of his name. He does this for
several reasons: Firstly, to forge his own legacy so that he might rise to
dominance. Secondly, to dishearten his foes further, for he knows how to wage
a war against the heart as well as the body. Lastly, because he does not hide
his alliance with the shadows, he wishes his name to be whispered in fear so
that the Ccul'gra will respect him and reward him accordingly.

The relevance of Drezen's behavior is that it guides him ambitiously towards
the top. He knows that the mantle of Chancellorship is most often reserved for
magi, but as to the position of Advisor, he believes he is the best suited.
The obvious weakness he has seen is a lack of martial superiority in the Fold.
That's to be expected in a coven full of sorcerers, but since he is there now,
he believes it is his place to deal with all those who would pit their blades
against the Chosen.

Besides, he considers himself a student of magic, though his own stubborn pride
keeps him from seeking out any tutelage, for he knows he can do it himself. Of
course, he never admits to himself that it might take a lifetime to learn how to
do more than make a simple cantrip or two.

==================================================================================

Role

Chapter 2

The margins of the pages containing the next passage have been completely
filled with archaic runes and phrases. Much of it is repetition, as if the
author were impressing the spells as much as possible into his mind. The
actual entry is written in a sharp, blocky, yet rigidly structured hand, as
though the characters were duergish conformed to the common tongue.

Unfortunately, some signs of the journal's age are evident, as the bottom of
the page seems to have been mangled.


______________________________________________________________________________
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| They'd never believe me back home. They'd never believe that I |
| can command the might of an entire clan of witches and warlocks to |
| use their power as I see fit. They aren't always so willing, but |
| they bend when I say "bend," and some even break when I say "break." |
| It was Victoria, the ill-named daughter of the Drow who chose me as |
| her Advisor and Taskmaster. She, herself, was chosen by forces now |
| wholly un-named, to be the Chancellor. About that...the Nightborn, |
| having slipped into torpor, perhaps never to awaken again, has left |
| a void in the realm of the Divine. Her power could, perhaps, be |
| seized. I have only scratched the surface of the arcane, having |
| learned of a few useful spells, but with time I might come to learn |
| of magic strong enough to siphon Her essence. |
| |
| While I'm pouring my thoughts onto you, once again, my trusty |
| little journal, let me write of Zesam, the Shooloo, once more. I |
| think that perhaps, in its jealousy for the favor of the Lord of the |
| Earth, this creature has long sought to drive me into ruin by ever- |
| prodding me, as it were, towards the edge of various cliffs. By |
| "cliffs," I mean its goal-setting that it constantly tries to do for |
| me. I followed the Shooloo's designs for a long time, seeking to |
| impress the Lord through it, but I think that it has, in fact, been |
| a hinderance, for He has never touched my life in a tangible way, |
| save for his teachings. Mayhaps I have been led astray so that the |
| Shooloo, who must be wary of me, can keep whatever glory the Lord |
| can bestow for itself. No more. I have done more than any kin of mine |
| in a tousand years, and I am just beginning. You offer illusion and |
| misdirection, but I see through your smoke and mirrors, Zesam. Yes, |
| I see through them. |
| _ /\ |
| The time has come for me to dis/ '-^-./\___/ \th

Role

Chapter 1

This part of the journal breaks from the dated entries which have become familiar,
detailing plans for what looks to be a statue of a dwarf and a wolf. The former
being none other than Thror Hammersong, with the latter, of course, being his
hated enemy, Serafim. The duergar made sure to indicate the dimensions of the
creation, which are truly collossal. The scene, though grim, looks like any other
mundane work of art until the next page hints at something called "The Reckoning
Time," and contains several fragments of a sorcerous rite that looks to have been
worked upon the statue itself. Bits and pieces of the various spells have been
left out on purpose, perhaps to keep the exact details lost to history. But, at
a glance the intent is obviously malicious, and the following comment reinforces
that notion:

"We beat them on the field of battle, now we strike at the heart and soul."

In a typical attempt by the duergar to fill every last blank space of this journal,
the bottom half of the final page concerning the statue turns to another matter,
briefly indicating a desire to see the Fortress of Light razed. He points out that
he could "kill two birds with one stone," whatever that means, by setting fire to
the foliage just outside the stronghold and then salting the earth. Overall, the
tone of the passage is more hateful than usual.

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