Jokaero the Champion of Ancient Ways

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Role

Chapter 7

I think I am alive, I am not entirely sure, but truly I feel alive it is just
that I am trapped. Where, or how I am unsure. I remember assailing the Elven
village near Darsylon and reveling in bringing down my blade upon an old
Elven crone who tried to interpose herself between me and a child. It was
glorious watching her lifeblood fill her mouth and seep over her lips
running down to drip from her chin.

The hag then, her words bubbling through the blood, spat something at me and
I stumbled. I lost consciousness and when I awoke I felt stiff, sore, and
very disoriented.

Now I feel so different. I walked into my favourite dive in Arkham only to be
assaulted and left badly beaten upon the wharf. I ran into the young
demonologist who I had accompanied to the Village and he tried to slay me as
soon as he spied me, definately angered that I called out to him.

And now the worst thing of all: I am unable to draw my blade against those
who I would normally prey upon. It is agony only being to fight those I would
normally rally with to bring a reign of terror down upon those weaklings.
Even speaking is now a chore and if my house's Matron ever finds me act
thusly I will be damned to the lowest places where slaves and Dwarves are
condemned to writhe in eternal suffering.

I am determined to free myself of this curse and return to the true path to
power. Somehow I will free myself from this unholy automaton!

*I will use tell self and emotes to represent the angst and strife this
character is undergoing. Also I will be asking for as much information about
curses, lifting curses, and transfering of souls*

Role

Chapter 6

Arrrgh.... this is driving me mad. I am being forced to be kind to those I
would rather slay and barely able to mouth words to get aid from a flaming
Scion. I even tried to get aid from a simple minded idiotic Villager. I will
do ANYTHING to break this bloody curse.

My anger knows no bounds now, if I am restored I will wade through blood and
gore up to my belt from all the Elves, Dwarves, and light blinded fools I am
going to slaughter.

Twice now a gentle gardener has been so arrogant as to show me his back and
yet my blade simply twitches in my hand as I try to strike.

Thrice damned Elven crone! Her curse will not last forever and when it
falls....... Thera beware!

Role

Chapter 5

Hope? Phaw! Some Godling played me for a fool. Mocking my ability to wield
mithril yet leaving me without any sign of succor. I succumbed, drew lust for
freedom from this mockery of my existence and of course was then left with
nothing but the taste of the ability to let the blood flow... the FOOL that I
am.

Yet some of what was conveyed to me was worth considering. My ability to
wield mithril, my ability to readily avoid detection by those foolish light
blinded idiots. These are things I have now but with NO ability to act upon
them. NONE! By the nine Hells why? Death to the Crone! Death to the Elves!
That shall be my war cry as I purge Thera of fools.

My inability to refuse the aid of light cursed rodents and in turn to render
aid to those same mewling fools is wearing heavily. Soon something must
happen ere I go mad. By all that is unholy now even my thoughts are being
formed in as if I were a kindly soul.

Kindly SOUL? Arrrggg! No! NO! THE BLOOD MUST FLOW!

Role

Chapter 4

AHA! I have found a weakness within the structure of the curse. Whenever it,
I, berserks I feel control nearly within my grasp. Several times now I have
almost been able to take control of the construct and have it do my bidding.
I can almost taste the sweet blood as it flows from those this horrid parody
of my existence calls allies and worse, friends.

As I see through its eyes as it wandering throughout Thera I longingly ache
for the ability to join forces with those who seek to strangle the hopes of
those foolish light blinded fools. The swaths of death and despoiled lands
left by the forces of the Scions makes me drool in anticipation of my freedom
from this hell!

(Alas..its strength is growing and I find myself with seeds of kindness
growing within...Cyradia claim me!)

I will slay, maim, and bleed all these fools that have befriended this cold
ceramic automaton. Then I will start to truly take vengence upon the Elves
and thier ilk. Death will be my companion and Pain will herald my arrival.

Role

Chapter 3

Demons, Darkness, and Death! I no longer can sense a physical form seperate
from this foul parody. Even more disturbing is that I am absolutely sure I am
trapped within this ivory shell I see whenever I catch my reflection.

The Crone's curse has evolved and no longer do I look as I did:

"Standing woodenly, sporting a vacant stare, this being appears to be quite
detached from all around him. He is about six feet tall and has an
unremarkable physique.

Upon closer inspection you note that his skin has a strange colouration along
with a bizarre texture. Thick blue black hair; that hangs limpy down without
any form of style, seems to be more of a textile than natural. His teeth and
nails, both perfect in form and which gleam a bright white, are definately
synthetic."

At least then when I looked upon that reflection I cast I knew I was not
truly within that mockery. Now, .. now I can not make that claim and worse I
feel the insipid tendrils of the Light worming their way into my soul.

I still feel my anger, my rage, and my desire for bloodshed but something
tempers it now. Something alien and unholy seeks to corrupt me and make me
into all that I despise.

Role

Chapter 2

Well I know now what the basis for this curse is: the old crone spat out the
last of her lifeforce into me. I am not haunted by her but by her believes,
desires, dreams, and hopes. This is sickening, absolutely sickening.

I would rather sear mine own eyes out.. Gods above her thoughts infect mine
more and more! I find myself using fair forms of speech and feeling the ills
she would.

This is the war, the bloody battle for my existence, my will over hers. My
anger, rage and hatred to utterly destroy her compassion, gentleness and
generosity. I will win, this fight is not over yet. I still have much
strength left and will not succumb.

The day must needs always give over to the Night and thus so shall this I
will be free! Then shall the blood flow, the corpses pile high, and the pain
reign.. the sweet, sweet pain.

Role

Chapter 1

Damnation, hells, and darkness! There was a momentary weakness which has all
but faded. Now I am weaker than ever! Damnable paladin facilitated that which
I had been seeking to thwart Jokaero from ever considering: finding a
purpose! Klyndenstrom must be destroyed utterly and forever if I am to ever
have a hope at freeing myself from this wretched foul curse. Pain, blood, and
death be upon all surface Elves for the crone's curse!

I am weakening even more now, I feel my hold on the form is
slipping. Worse is that I can feel the formation of a true mortal
shape within the simularicum and it is not dark Elven. Not nimble
enough nor does it bear the true spirit of rage and powerlust.
This disturb me beyond words and now I am an echo, a voice
that can only rage in the Darkness that bitch Elf has trapped
me in.

I found my last chance now and it is something that I do hope
will give me revenge. I needed something to sustain myself
since my strength was ebbing within the simularicum. I have
planted a thought within the being forming that it should keep
the silk cape with the blood red spider mark of the Goddess.
It is in the cape I reside now, a quiet urgency that can cause
the felling of this overly noble creature and send the Crone's
soul into the hands of my Goddess!

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