Vrtainen the Victorious Champion

Role

Chapter 6

I wanted to start off with a complete OOC way of telling you (the reader
be it IMM or otherwise) how I plan to roleplay the character and offer insights
in to the role I've created and will play out.

First off, this is somewhat of a test character. My goal is test out
the new dex changes I have been harping on as well as testing Striking and a
build I thought might be fairly playable. I also wanted to challenge myself and
try for Daevryn's religion for two reasons, the first is that I wish to follow a
religion where the IMM is known (by himself) to not be around much. I believe
therefore I must do a wonderful job roleplaying this char to get his attention.
Hopefully, that motivation will keep me (the player) from lapses I tend to make
with many of my recent characters. Secondly, I feel the religion is one of the
best religions in challenging the player. Most of the best times I've had on
Carrion Fields are when the odds where shitty, enemies were surrouding me and I
had to make an RP choice (ala Shawshank, get busy living, or get busy dying).

Alright, about the character/role. I'm structuring this role in two
(possibly three if I get Daevryn's attention) ways. First, the part that I will
enter detailing the Historical role. ALA a story of who Vrtainen is and how he
came to the Academy. Second will be the part I periodically update throughout
the characters life, which will be like a sort of memoir of Vrtainen. They will
hold his beliefs of things that have happened to the character, strictly how he
would see it.
The choice of the specs will be readily (I hope) apparent from the
following role. The legacies will be based on his drive to become the best
warrior of Thera. That drive will always push him further and further.

Finally for Daevryn, since I heard while he likes big goals, he also
likes concrete acheivable goals as well. It is Vrtainen's desire to slay one
member of every adventurer guild in Thera(I'm not including Mummy/Lich), as well
as an additional four from each mage guild. Other noticable drives will be
disdain for all non-dark elves, though if they prove themselves formidable they
will have his respect. He dislikes all mages and due to his aforementioned
drive to kill members of their guilds, he will show them no interest other than
to complete his goals.


Alright, on to the meat and bones!

Role

Chapter 5

With a cry, he stabbed the broken haft of the practice blade at his foe,
unleashing a cry of such rage his opponent was taken aback. Wincing sharply as
the broken blade rammed into the purple-flamed dark-elf he was facing, Vrtainen
leaped away, attempting to survey the battlefield.

'You, you, cut me. You cut me. YOU CUT ME SWINE!'

The other dark-elf thrust out his palm, the words of the arcane language
spilling from his mouth. Suddenly, a shudder of pain wracked the warrior
student as he doubled over. Gasping for breath, he looked up to see his foe,
that sniveling cur Vrtainen, leaping through the air, the broken blade held in
both hands like a massive giant gripping a enourmous flamberge. He awaited,
breathless, for the killing stroke.

With a snarl of defiance Vrtainen staggered against the stalagmites of the path.
Trailing blood, his left arm dangling from an angle to his side, the skin of his
right leg peeled back and laid bare, he gasped as he moved, his gaze locked
forward in supreme concentration. Up ahead, about fifty yards away in the
darkness, was his families' House. A minor house, set quietly away from the
city proper of Teth Azleth, and thus, of prying adventurers. A house entitled
to one minor honor, the breeding and training of the cities slaves. It was from
House Il'Zarri that all the sniveling kobold fodder used on patrolling
expeditions learned obediance. It was from House Il'Zarri that all the duergar
slaves that the Merchants of Teth Azleth used in their many trips to the
merchant cities of Thera. It was a minor honor, a minor house. And that was
why Vrtainen was about to die.

He awoke to darkness, not normal Underdark blackness, but a magical darkness.
Snorting with confusion, he tried to stand, but was unable. As if on cue, a
voice began to speak to him, a familiar voice.

'Vrtainen, you have done a foolish thing. A foolish foolish thing.
*The voice pauses here for a moment* Were the Matron still alive, you would be
flayed alive for all the slaves to see, but I cannot bear to see my finest
warrior so killed. Not one with your spirit, you see. All these years, all
these years. I wonder if you would laugh knowing how truly ironic what you
just did was! *Amused laughter from the voice* Not your bladesmanship, no, we
both know the slaver's whip fits your hand better than your fingers themselves.
I am talking about the Archmage's son! I have heard from many he is your rival
in many things. Amazing that one so gifted with a blade could also be gifted
with the mystical arts. Your brothers say he was better than you with the
blade, but again we know what weapon you prefer. Yes, the Archmage's son
is quite a worthy foe. *Muffled sounds echoing in the darkness cause the voice
to stop for a brief moment* Of course, he is my son, as well. Do those words
surprise you Vrtainen? That should not. It is often houses of the dark-elven
hierarchy will discard, sacrifice or trade their lesser noble sons. To many, we
are just men. With Aznylasyr, well, he was my seventh-born son, the last to
your Former Matron. She wished to sacrifice him, but I acheived a way out for
him...and for you. For you see, the Archmage was your father, not I.'

Role

Chapter 4

'It should not surprise you. Remember how hard it was for you to call
forth your magical nature? Your ability to coat an object with glowing purple
fire was horrendous, and it wasn't until three years ago you could finally do
that. No no, your Father could not, would not have a son who was so weakly
gifted in the arcane arts. How would it look? How would it look. *Sounds of
mild chuckling from the voice* So, I made what one would call a devil's bargain,
and you became my son, my ward, my hope that one day, you will fulfill my dream.
I had labored a near millenia ago for some other House, in many many wars. It
was then that I was trully in my prime, not this shell you know now. Many
called me greater than the man who teaches you now. Well, the man who was
teaching you, after that brilliant stunt you pulled. *More laughter* Needless to
say I say with no small Pride, I was magnificiant. However, I never tested
myself against those of the Factions, those of the adventurers known to wipe out
whole parties of dark-elf patrollers, known to plunder the First House of it's
prizes. It was my greatest failure. But you, you my boy, you were something
else. *A short pause, and lots of muffled shouting* Here I was, thinking all I
got was a baby to blackmail the Archmage with, and one with no other talent at
all. I remember taking you to the *muffled noises echo around the darkness,
leading to the voice pausing for a moment* pens when you first were able to
understand what it was we did. How you took to the lash! From the first
moment, Rakahs told me you were almost as feared as the females of our house by
the slaves. From the first moment! Perhaps they glimpsed the greatness the
Archmage could not see in you. Perhaps.

A loud boom shakes the magical darkness, which breaks. Two dark-elves are in a
octagonal room, one sitting in a dragonbone chair of exquisite craftmanship, the
other laying on a runed slab of moss-lined adamantite. The one on the chair
seems nervous, yet collected, quite elderly by the dark-elven standards. The
one on the slab is youthful and near-healed from what looked like calamatious
injuries. The elderly drow continues speaking, once every so often shooting a
glance towards the door.

'And so you see, you must escape. For even now they are destroying all
that I have served for these countless years. The combined forces of the First
House and the two schools of Teth Azleth are destroying our House. I do not
have much time. I will give you one final gift, Vrtainen. One that hopefully
will lead you to glory I failed to acheive.'

Moving over to the comatose youth, the elderly dark-elf pressed a hand against
the youth's chest. Speaking softly a few words in a strange language, he
smiled, as the youth's form became insubstansial, and floated away through the
cracks and seams of the room. Smiling one last time, the elderly dark-elf
turned towards the door just in time to face the incoming blast of hellish
energy that signaled the end of House Il'Zarri.

Skill List

Role

Chapter 3

Vrtainen awoke many hours later. Taking stock of his surrounding area, he made
his way carefully back to where his house USED to be. Looking upon the sheer
nothingness that once was a great building of stone nearly broke his resolve,
but with a curse, he strode back into the Underdark, formulating revenge.

For the next year or so, Vrtainen lived in the regions of the Underdark near
Teth Azleth. Constantly keeping himself hidden was a strain on the dark-elf,
but the roving bands of patrollers and ever-wandering cavefishers were more than
enough motivation for his stealth. As he tracked his way around the city every
day, he took great care not to disturb the slain bodies he discovered.
Countless gnome scholars and Giants with massive swords burdened with rings adorned
with skulls clutter the ground with carrion. Every once in a while he would hear a
commotion and make his way to the scene of a battle, often watching as massive
lions and bearded war machines tore through Teth Azleth's defenses. But the city
moved onward each day and Vrtainen waited.

Finally, one day he had the moment he had desired for so long. It was a day
like any other, if not for the fact that Vrtainen was able to come across a
group of students practicing spells in a cavern off the main passageway.
Creeping up slowly in the darkness, he kept great care to stick near the walls,
allowing their natural damp coolness to somewhat mask his body heat. Inching
ever closer, he observed the party, and smiled. For you see, Aznylasyr was one
of the students.

'See you fool, look at the power my Father allows me to learn!'
With that the robed drow cast a bolt of acid through the chamber, laughing as it
hissed into a stalagmite, liquifying it in moments.
'For my next spell I will, ACK!'

He dropped into a crouch after the first whip strike failed to acheive his
objective, which was rendering Aznylasyr unconcious. Coming up quickly, he
snapped his whip around at the first of Aznylasyr's companions neck, cutting his
air off and dropping him limply to the ground. Even as the first companion was
falling, the second was crashing to the ground, his legs taken out from under
him in a vicious sweep. Vrtainen smashed a gauntleted hand into the third's
mouth as he rose, following it by turning and delivering a second strike, this
time with his elbow, to the back of the final companions neck. And so, it was
time. Alone at last.

'You...YOU FOOL! YOU DARE STRIKE AT ME AND MY PARTY! PREPARE TO DIE!'

Dodging a bolt of lightning he fell into a off-balance roll, but steadied
himself as he lept up, snapping his whip at the outstretched hand of Aznylasyr.
By the way the Archmage's son recoiled, he knew he had taken off a finger or
two. Tossing a slim throwing dagger as bait, Vrtainen saw what he was looking
for, as Aznylasyr began the effort of casting a spell to disintegrate the dagger
hurtling towards him. It was then he snapped his whip a second time, causing
Aznylasyr to stop his chanting with a pained curse. The Archmage's son fought
to compose himself in the face of quickly advancing advesary. Eyes widening in
fear, he spat blood to the ground as he reached for a molten wand smoldering
near his waist. With a final smug curse at the oncoming dark-elf, he zapped

Role

Chapter 2

Who knows how long the wounded warrior stumbled through the Underdark. At
first, his injuries seemed more aggravating than life-threatening. While his
clothing had nearly all been burnt off, he still kept a light leather vest that
kept his most precious organs intact. His hair had burned off (and strangely
did not seem to be growing back) and his right arm was next to useless, the skin
cracked and burnt. But he was alive, and Aznylasyr was dead. His revenge had
been complete. Or had it. Through those many days of wandering, the dark-elf
thought back to the last words of his adopted father. He was not done, there was
more blood yet to be spilled.

After a few months he ran afoul of a minor party of adventurers. His body
pieced and broken from the onslaught of the blue giant's axes and his elven
companions icy needles, Vrtainen ran near death, his fierce pride not allowing
him to die. As he struggled to reach the surface, he thought back on his life,
cursing the Heavens for denying him his rightful legacy. Falling to the
lifeless Underdark a final time near a cavernous shaft leading to more
blackness, Vrtainen wondered if this is how it would all end.

Floating quietly over the lifeless dark-elven body, a transluscent being reached
down.

'I BET BASH DID...'

It stopped for a moment, before reaching beneath? the vest with it's
insubstansial hands. Fingering a small academy seal, the being sighed.

'THE PREFECT WINS ANOTHER ONE. I'M SURE WE'LL MEET AGAIN, JUST WAIT FOR
THE SOUND OF THE BANSHEE. NOT THAT FURRY ONE THOUGH.'

Role

Chapter 1

You drift through the eddies and shadows of memory, until finally you reach
a scene, something not totally unfamiliar to you...

...you see a slim drow battling several pink fleshy creatures, his left arm
hanging down slightly while his right steadies a pike he has propped into the
ground. As you look around his surroundings, you notice other young
adventurers battling creatures of there own. A giant, elf, dwarf. Looking
at the drow again you notice he stands over a pile of fleshy corpses, a faint
pained look on his face...

Oddly, a charming voice that has a somewhat acidic tone begins to speak...

'Yes, how interesting it was to awake with some strange being standing over
me, telling me to procede into a labrynth of knowledge and puzzles. I walked
for days, reading of the creatures I had known and seen during my time in the
Underdark. I came upon a certain tapestry that drew my eye, for it spoke of a
village of the greatest warriors in Thera. If I am to become all that I may,
they are worth searching out. Whether to learn from them, or learn from them
in the chaos of combat as I rip out their hearts...'

You float through currents of time and space, finding another scene...

...you see the same drow, now battling several armored guardsmen. A thick
length of chain with a spiked ball on the end weaves through the night air,
taking the weapon of one of the guardsmen and tossing it into the darkness.
A thin purple flame seems to coat the armors of another, but they fight on with
a rage that belies there station. The bodies of several of their fellows lay
lifeless on the hewn soil, their blood mixing with the loam and dirt to create
a muddy quagmire. Glancing back, you notice the battle over, the drow limping
away to the east in the darkness. Deciding to follow, you come upon him near a
Keep some distance south of the battle. Breathing shallowly, he sleeps in
fits, periodically waking an hour or two after his eyes close. Looking
around, you notice a slim fela creeping close, studying the drow carefully...

'I learned many things after I awoke at that damnable altar in Galadon for the
first time. One was to always be aware. I had thought my time in the
Underdark would have prepared me for the times that would come, but I was
wrong. There were days I found myself fighting near-armies of men, dwarves and
elves. My training progressed slow, for I found myself interrupted often. I
sought knowledge then, knowledge of my skills and knowledge of the world. I
would say I learned quite a bit, but I paid for my knowledge. I paid.'

Immortal Comments

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Skill List

Title History

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Leveling History

Timeline

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