Mueghlu the Student of the Macalla

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Role

Chapter 5

The sun shines merrily down on the plains of Eregion as fae elves sing and
feast. The dwarves of Delar'Tol live their lives as they always have,
enjoying their expanding society and growing wealth and commerce. Far below
the dwarven stronghold, however, is a different story. A young duergar by
the name of Mueghlu is about to make the most horribly life-altering decision
he will ever make.

Little is known of the social structure of the underdark of Thera's past,
particularly that of the inherently evil society of Yzekon. Mueghlu knew,
though, that to become accepted among the brawlers and fighters of his
people, he must first become bloodied in battle by his own hands. He was
ambitious, and knew that bringing the head of a dwarf from the cursed
stronghold above would place him above the others. Blinded by greed and
power and short sighted in his lust for standing among his people and lacking
in any sort of training, he stumbled into the first dwarven patrol group he
came upon and was immediately knocked unconscious by a stout dwarven club and
captured.

Slavery is never kind. The inherent hatred of dwarves for duergar makes the
trade even more twisted and cruel. Mueghlu had never experienced sunlight,
it seared his naked flesh like fire, blisters immediately burned onto his
newly shaved scalp and face, bubbling over his milky pupils even so that he
couldn't see when he tried to open them. Screaming and writhing on the hot
sand of the slave pit as the cruel biting whips of the dwarven slavers rained
down on him, Mueghlu wished for death under the yells of the foreign dwarven
language of the hated dwarves of Delar'Tol. Day after day for weeks he was
taken to the bright sandy pit and beaten to unconsciousness with the sharp
stinging lash of the whip until all the fighting spirit was gone from his
soul, and nothing but despair and hopelessness remained. When they had
finally broken him he was taken to the market of Ostalagiah and sold to a
human mage of the growing city of Maethien, guaranteed a strong worker, a
good hauler, and completely subservient and obedient.

Maethien itself was a highly rich city of wonders for most, many magical
breakthroughs happened on a day to day basis, much was discovered and there
was much to do.Mueghlu was just a slave, though, and mostly ignored. No
small amount of eyebrows were raised at a duergar being amidst the scholars,
but in the open mindedness and ever growing and expanding mindset of the era,
it was passed off as yet another new milestone of the place and backs were
patted and life moved on upon his arrival. He was kept in chains at night
and although his master wasn't inherently cruel, he was never generous.
Mueghlu tested the relationship only twice and was summarily beaten into
unconsciousness with a club as instructed by the slaver each time with the
understanding that if he died as a result he could have a new slave or a full
refund from the dwarven merchant on his honor.Mueghlu however took the
beatings as an awakening and knew it was only a matter of time before an
opportunity of freedom presented itself, although he remained subservient to
his master and would continue to do so, the fires of his former self and
inherent wickedness of his race quickly returned, he swor

Role

Chapter 4

Mueghlu was never given the opportunity to become very strong, and knew he
couldn't overpower his master who always knew to keep an eye open for danger,
regardless of how docile Mueghlu acted towards him. For several months he
patiently awaited the opportunity to escape, but his master never let him out
of his sight. He began to pick up on the language of the humans and knew the
basic commands he was given, always doing as instructed. He didn't care for
the coyote of the conjurer, always showing its teeth at him when his masters
back was turned and Mueghlus hatred showed plain upon his face.

As with all good things, the mages of Maethien wanted more and more, they
wanted to grow, they wanted the knowledge, the power and information and
magic. They began to dabble in things they knew nothing of, opting to
explore and take now, heedless to the dangers with which the delved in.They
knew they had been plagued with smoke demons of sorts that had been attacking
the unwary all over, and as one of the more powerful mages of Maethien,
Mueghlu's master was going to attempt to consort with a devil to ask how to
be rid of the foul creatures. Mueghlu knew that something dangerous was
afoot when he was given instruction to stand in his circle in the corner with
the understanding that if he moved he would be beaten unconscious, especially
when the coyote stood guard directly in front of him.

The conjurer that was Mueghlu's master didn't know much about conjuring
devils.He understood the basics, he knew about making deals and that asking
it a question would require careful wording and he would owe it a favor when
the question was asked if it got answered. He didn't know what sort of devil
he would conjure, he knew if he could trick it into giving him its name he
would have some sort of power over it, but mostly it was new to him. He was
quite nervous about the entire situation or he would have given more thought
to having Mueghlu in the same room as he during the summoning process. As he
began taking a deep breath and creating a thaumaturgic circle under the open
roof of the summoning chamber, he was disrupted by a loud and hollow drone of
a bell ringing out across the night sky. Glaring towards Delar'Tol, he
vaguely remembered being invited to a celebration of the dead the previous
month and wished that they would keep their old beliefs and ancient ways to
themselves when he had such important matters to attend to. Shaking his head
he finished the circle and paced around it one more time to make sure all was
to perfection.

Mueghlu watched with curiosity as his master paced the circle and walked to a
large tome. It was clear both he and the coyote weren't paying him a bit of
attention. The coyote had been eyeing his master for some time, whimpering
softly with his eyes glazed over as if in deep concentration. He knew his
freedom was moments away, something was about to happen, something involving
the circle. Just as he was mulling this over, the conjurer shouted something
arcane and the room instantly darkened as all the candles snuffed out of
their own accord. A smell of sulfur and brimstone overtook Mueghlu's senses
and threatened to choke him. A flash within the circle of the deepest orange
revealed a giant eye for an ins

Role

Chapter 3

I know its all cliche, endless torment; burning in hell and the abyss for all
eternity. But what if you weren't bound to those rules? What if you were
there by some strange loophole, you were made to suffer for say, half a
millennia, and you escaped somehow? What sort of mindset would you have
about the place? Would you seek redemption? Would you 'find the light'?
What if, there was no way such thoughts of redemption ever even occurred to
you because of your race, that you're an evil duergar, not some human capable
of redemption. You were born in Yzekon, you're the evilest of the evil.
Mueghlu falls under the latter category. The devil wasn't happy about having
his chance at freedom spoiled, but luckily enough he had a soul to take out
his frustrations on, for all eternity, or so he thought. Mueghlu may have
spent a blink of his life uncomfortable at being a slave, but it was nothing
next to the amount of time he would spend in pure agony and waking terror at
the hands of the devil.

Morning. Or what Mueghlu came to know as morning. Scalding hot white mists
push up onto his face and body.Shuddering involuntarily and knowing better
than to begin weeping this early, he scans his surroundings. He wiggles
himself back and forth and realizes he's already hanging upside down. Blood
trickles down his calves and thighs and he whimpers slightly to himself as he
stares up at the large hooks through both his ankles as he hangs from ropes
that are tied someplace too high up in the air to see. Sweat begins to
trickle into his eyes and dread overtakes him. He knows the game, he wonders
what form the devil will take today. The devil feeds on his fear, grows
powerful on it, every day is similar. The despair, the pain, the fear, all
bring the devil pleasure. Mueghlu understands that he is damned for all
eternity, and blames only the conjurer and those like him for it. A deep
rumble from far below makes Mueghlu swear to himself, lost in his musing he
lost the fear that should have kept the devil in thrall for several more
'hours', as time has no meaning in the abyss. Rising up through the mist
slowly is oddly enough the form of a little boy. Mueghlu begins to breathe
quickly and frantically at the sight, knowing what lies ahead, yet unsure at
the same time, any spectator of the event might find the sight humorous and
odd, as the small five year old child points down and the rope is lowered so
that Mueghlu is on face level with him.Giggling softly to himself the boy
taps the duergar on the head, Mueghlu tries to groan but can't move a single
muscle in his body, even to breathe. Humming familiar dwarven drinking songs
to himself, the child withdraws a small dull scalpel and with an angry glee
rips both of Mueghlu's eyelids off. Mueghlu feels the blood pouring over his
scalp and the stunning pain threatens to send him into unconsciousness, but
in this place, there is no sleep....


Unspeakable horrors left best to the imagination for what seemed like an
eternity haunted Mueghlu and shaped his soul. Even madness didn't save him
as the devil knew how to keep him on the cusp of despair and hopelessness
without allowing his brain to entertain such thoughts as that. However
hopeless, Mueghlu's salvation was at hand in the form of those he mos

Role

Chapter 2

Mueghlu regained his strength slowly and was fortunate that the black robed
mage lived a solitary life, having recently stocked up on supplies and food.
He helped himself to provisions and packed for a long journey, and after
studying various maps of Thera realized something wasn't right about the
place. He pondered his dilemma for some time in the mages home, and
eventually put the place to the torch, hoping that the magic of summoning
devils was lost with the place, as he knew he wasn't in Maethien judging by
the maps. He didnt want just anyone continuously opening portals to the
abyss where his fate could be repeated. He wandered to the city of Udgaard
where, much to his chagrin, he learned that there were entire guilds
dedicated to such sorcery, he even broke out in sweat and cold chills just
being near the place after he found out what it was. He found a bar and did
a lot of heavy drinking and worrying, knowing his time was limited, and
during his rambling and ranting to the patrons, he found an agreeable sort
who said that indeed, all were damned to burn in eternal flame, all but a
chosen few would suffer eternally at the hands of demons and tormentors. It
was in this dark bar that he first heard the name of the Ill Omen, Beroxxus,
whispered. With that name he had his loophole.He visited the Dark Lords'
Chapel, but did not have any luck reaching him.If he could become one of
Beroxxus chosen, become a tormentor instead of the tormented, he would have
a way out of eternal suffering at the hands of the devil.

Further wisdom was granted by a dwarf, of all beings. While wandering the
streets of Udgaard, and being stopped dead in his tracks at the passing of
one of these 'conjurers' he was called over by an elderly dwarf who
apparently resided in the city.He said that the look Mueghlu gave the
conjurer was one of such pure hatred it inspired a bit of the battle lust
from his fighting days of the Village. After seeing the same look being
directed his way, the dwarf chuckled and told Mueghlu to move along.
Mueghlu was perplexed at the mention of a place dedicated to fighting those
that would be foolish enough to voluntarily use such 'magic' to do things
such as bring devils into the world. Mueghlu knew that to protect himself
from the mages and conjurers of the world he would first need to build up his
strength in combat, he joined the warriors guild, and for now he wanders the
world in training, seeking to learn more of the Village of Battle, and the
Ill Omen, Beroxxus.

Role

Chapter 1

A narrow trail through thick woods and vegetation leads away from the village
proper, into a darker bit of forest that receives little sunlight during
high-noon due to the thick canopy overhead. The hut of Mueghlu sits isolated
almost a quarter of a mile from the village, near enough for him to be close
should the warning drums be sounded, but out of earshot of his kin. Thin
smoke twists its way out of a mud chimney, and a faint glowing of orange can
be seen through thin cracks where the dark patchwork of thick hides are
thickly pieced together over shoddy wooden framework and dried mud. Fanged
heads of giant, clawed beasts decorate the top of the hut, giving it a
grizzly and foreboding appearance, especially when the nightly fog eerily
seeps in from the west

Mueghlu lashes his whip across the childs back again, narrowing his eyes in
agitation as another large hunk of flesh peels away with a spray of blood.
He sets his whip down, and turns the sobbing boy towards his scarred face.
Whispering to the boy almost silently, he asks 'Do you understand yet why you
are here child?'

The boy remembers again, whimpering softly, his carefree days of Voralian
City, now lost, slowly fading from his memory to be replaced by something far
more sinister. He was training to be a fire weaver with his big friend
Brangreth, they were entertaining small crowds, practicing, hoping they were
going to be good enough to be taken on permanently at the Inn of the Eternal
Star. His parents put him out on his own when they discovered his magic, he
accidentally burned down the barn after he was startled by his cousins and
nearly killed them all.Brangreth picked him up and dusted him off, when he
needed it most and was teaching him to use his talent to write peoples names
in flame, to juggle fire, to entertain.He was very kink..that's what he
used to think. They were entertaining a large crowd in the city and Bran
went to collect the money. The last he recalled a rag came across his mouth
and nose, and he woke up face to face with a rotting skull with half the face
of a little girl he didn't know staring at him.Three other skulls rested
beside that one in different states of decay and he knew they were the
children before him that his capto-..that his savior had tried to rescue that
didn't 'take' to their training. He was angry at his parents, angry at Bran
for abandoning him, he knew he would die here, and he was utterly without
hope. Finally he succumbed. The boy felt the blood flowing freely down his
back and knew he musnt pass out or he would be beaten harder when he woke.
'I am here because you rescued me from the one that kidnapped me from my
parents, the one that was using me and my wickedness for personal gain.I
was alone because I am a foul creature, and my parents were shamed at siring
me, and put me out of their sights, they were wise. My only salvation in
this life and the next will be in destroying those unworthy of life, like me,
and sending their souls into the abyss for judgement and torment, by any
means necessary.'

Mueghlu stares into the drooping and fading eyes of the young boy, as he
speaks, judging and weighing the words as they are recited, listening for any
rehearsed inflection of syllables, any hint of doubt o

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