Ptohlmar the Master of Disruption

Role

Chapter 15

Ptolhmar Northwing was born to a respected family of the Arial City.
It was a well known and honored military family. General Northwing,
a great and well-adorned officer of the Emperor's Royal Guard was
well liked and respected. They told tales of his heroic deeds
as a soldier, and of his cunning war strategies as a general.
Naturally, Ptolhmar was to follow in his footsteps and become a
great warrior to one day protect the Emperor as well.
It was no easy to task to follow in his father's footsteps, but
Ptolhmar was always a determined one. He wanted nothing more than
to please his father and be as great as he one day. His father
loved his son and nurtured his desires. But General Northwing
had his own desires.

Role

Chapter 14

General Northwing was an avid collector of historical texts. When
he wasn't on duty, his time was usually spent in the study of their
home. No one was allowed in. Not even his family knew the true
contents of the room. Everything about his life was public, with
the exception of this room. It was like a corner of his mind
manifested into a single room.
But just like his father, Ptolhmar had a healthy and inquisitive
mind. And one day, after an afternoon of sparring with his
brothers, he came to an empty home. His brothers had gone to
join their mother elsewhere, but Ptolhmar was asked to meet his
father. He assumed it was to help with some heavy lifting or
other physical activity. Since Ptolhmar was the eldest, it was
usually he who was called upon to do these types of tasks. But
when he arrived to his home, he saw something he never though he
would. The door to the study was wide open.

Role

Chapter 13

Ptohlmar inched towards the door. He knew he wasn't allowed in
there, but a gut feeling told him something was wrong. He
inched closer, stepping over a few books strewn across the floor.
He owned his own books, but they were mostly school books and
poetic writings of his favored bards. The ones he was stepping
over were his father's. One particular title caught his eye.
"The Anhgzz Thistle Weed", it was called. He had overheard his
father speaking to some men about a rare flower said to grant
unbelievable power to the person that held it.
He entered the study and was met with what looked like the scene
of some great struggle. Papers adorned the floor like a medley
of confetti. A still-lit candle suddenly tipped over onto one
of the papers and set it ablaze. Ptolhmar stepped on it to put
it out. And just as his foot scraped on the ashen paper, a pair
of large red arms grabbed him.

Role

Chapter 12

A pair of large red arms grabbed Ptohlmar from behind as if to
restrain him. He struggled to get free, but to no avail. He
screamed, but a massive red hand covered his beak. Ptohlmar
began to calm down, remembering his warrior's composure, when
a loud clicking sound was heard over by one of the bookcases.
The bookcase moved forward and then slid to the right on its
own, revealing a descending staircase. Slow footsteps seemed
to echo as someone climbed them. A hooded figure emerged.
It spoke and asked, "What do we have here?" He walked slowly
over to the restrained young avian.
"Is Northwing your father, little bird?", it asked. Ptohlmar
found it difficult to nod with the hand over his beak, but
managed to stifle one.
"Well, he's dead. And you will also be dead unless you tell me
where he hid it." Ptohlmar's eyes widened and he struggled
valiantly to get loose. But it was no use. Tears of
helplessness began to flow down from his eyes as he realized
it was to no avail. He was a bright young arial and knew that
he would die this day whether he told them what they wanted to
hear or not. But none of that mattered to him. His beloved
father was dead and that is all his mind dwelled on. That is
until he felt the greatest physical pain he had ever felt in
his entire life. The sounds of ripping flesh and breaking
bones were soon followed by a sharp cry.

Role

Chapter 11

A thin pink mist entered the air as the events that were taking
place seemed to be taking place in slow motion. Blood flowed
like wine as the hooded figure revealed his face. He grinned
with delight at what was occuring. Ptohlmar fell to the ground
in agony as the fire giant behind him held his severed wing
in his massive hand.
"Tell me where the weed is, boy, or you lose the other one.",
said the once-hooded man. Ptohlmar, however, could barely
keep his eyes open. He was losing too much blood and was going
into shock. "Gods damnit, bird, tell-". And before he could
finished his sentence, the sharp end of his father's sword
emerged from the belly of the man and through his robes, and
just as quickly, exited. The man fell to his knees and then on
his face... dead. The fire giant behind Ptohlmar charged
at his attacker with ferocious speed. At this point, Ptohlmar
was alternating between reality and dream, his vision becoming
more blurred as the seconds passed. He was able to look up
for a moment to see what looked like his father slaying the
giant in one swift slice of his blade.
**Flash**
Ptohlmar coughed up blood as his vision blurred even more.
**Flash**
He opened his eyes momentarily to see his father holding a
grey stalk of what looked like a plant over his son's body.
**Flash**
... **Flash**
..... **Flash**
Everything fades to black.

Role

Chapter 10

The sound of chattering woke Ptohlmar. He was in his room alone.
It was the first time he had awoken alone. Sharing a room with
five other brothers usually meant at least one was sleeping in.
He removed the covers and sat up at the side of the bed when a
sharp pain ran through his left shoulder and down his back. He
felt down the side of his back with his right hand to confirm
that what he had experienced was not a dream. His left wing was
missing, the massive scab still healing. He put his head down
and began to sob as a nurse walked in. She told him what had
happened. His father, the Great General Northwing, was hording
the Anhgzz Thistle Weed, which he had stolen as a young soldier
during a raid against the Empire long ago. It seems they had not
known the flower held such power until recently. The nurse went
on about its healing properties and how it saved Ptohlmar from
death. And finally, she revealed that General Northwing was
dead. His family, all but Ptohlmar, were killed in search of the
Anhgzz. The young avian was stricken with grief. The nurse
continued about how the power of the Anhgzz was supposed to be
the driving force behind the Emperor's wish to petition the
Tribunal Spire about extending their protection to their city.
Grief turned to confusion as the nurse continued. She spoke
of how the Emperor's latest ideas about Arial City becoming
a bastion of civilization and order. She said he was expecting
a Tribunal emissary to impress with the power of the fabled
flower. Ptohlmar shook his head as he soaked all this information
in. Confusion turned to anger as the Emperor walked in. He
lunged at him with intent to kill, and suddenly, he found himself
in a familiar situation as one of his royal guards restrained
the young heir to the name of the noble Northwing.

Role

Chapter 9

The Emperor shrugged off his would-be attacker's attack and
sat in the bed adjacent to Ptohlmar's. He began to speak.
"Be quiet, listen, and perhaps I will let you remain in my
city.", intoned the Emperor. He looked over at the nurse
and then back at Ptohlmar and said, "We need new nurses in
this city. The ones we have now speak of things that do not
concern them." The nurse, obviously scared, began stuttering
apologies to her Emperor. He simply waved a hand and she
stopped. He continued, "That flower your father used to
save your life was meant to be used for something more...
important, I'm sorry to say. Because he used it in this
way, its power is depleted." He threw a shriveled weed to
Ptohlmar's feet and continued, "Now we will never be accepted
by the Tribunal. I don't blame you. I blame your father."
He sighed and shook his head, "Nurse, make sure you take good
care of him. His father was a good friend of mine." The
emperor and his guards leave, leaving Ptohlmar seething with
anger and doubt.

Role

Chapter 8

A few years had passed since that eventful day. Ptohlmar had
stopped going to his guild's meetings and felt lost and alone.
One crisp, cool Arial City night as he roamed the streets, he
reached the city gates. He wanted to go down into the canyon
but with only one wing, he could not fly. He would have to
purchase a potion of flight from Fabian. Not much was left
to him after his family had passed. What little he had left
he had to use for food. He signed to himself and as he was
about to turn to leave, he heard someone utter a mystical
phrase, and Ptohlmar's feet rose off the ground. Ptohlmar
had never flown through magical means, so he struggled to
keep his balance. A young woman smiled and greeted him.
Ptohlmar was confused at first; he had never really seen
a mage before. He spent his years with fighters, rarely
encountering a shapeshifter or transmuter or invoker.
It was as if he had found a piece of him he never knew
existed because he and she became great friends and he
soon joined the transmuter's guild. He took to magic like
a fish to water. It was as if something was pushing him to
excel, but at the same time, that very same thing, was
building into something more. As time passed, he began
to realize he hated this city. Ptohlmar left his
his friend and his city to wander. He landed in Tir-Talath
but realized he didn't feel at home there either. He moved
to Galadon and again, he did not feel comfortable. Something
was stirring in Ptohlmar. These feelings of uneasiness
were turning into feelings of disgust. Galadon was a much
bigger city than Arial City. It was festering with people
and those Tribunal Magistrates were everywhere. He
remembered what the Emperor had said to him and those
feelings of uncontrollable anger creeped back. He stood
at the center of Market Square as the city's inhabitants,
ignoring him, blindly went about their business. His face
crinkled into a sneer and he threw his tattered robes
down and spread his only wing out and above his head. His
wingspan was impressive, scaring some of the local market
goers. Ptohlmar had had an epiphany. Ptohlmar Northwing
was no more and Ptohlmar Onewing was born.

Role

Chapter 7

Ptohlmar Onewing blames civilization for his misfortunes.
This is why he has become chaotic in nature. He sees law
and order as foolish ambitions.
His ambivalent nature stems from the pain of losing his
family, but also from the love and goodness he has seen
in the world. He feels that to leaning too close to one
spectrum of good or evil as foolish. One must always be
ready to do what is correct for the situation and not
have their actions predetermined by feelings of morality
or greed.
Ptohlmar has a tough time trusting fire giants. That is
not to say he will not trust one, but he will definitely
more wary of them than, say, a cloud or storm giant.
He is currently exploring these feelings of anger towards
civilization and order as he continues to study the arcane.

Role

Chapter 6

Ptohlmar has roamed for years now and has become a devoted
student of transmutation. He has experienced much in his
youth and living on the outskirts of Galadon has exposed
him to the acts of these brigands that seem to war against
the Tribunal Magistrates.
He took some time one day to research their cause. He
seemed to empathize with their own views as he learned more
and more of their cause. Thar-eris was first mentioned to
him as he spoke to a seasoned woodsman who had just finished
raiding the Spire and had a set of Scales that emitted power
in his possession. His conversation was short, but the
gleam in his eye told a tale of happiness and direction -
something Ptohlmar had lost since that day long ago. As
the woodsman disappeared into the silverwood forest, Ptohlmar
knew what he had to do. She called to him. She was what
stirred inside of him for so long. She needed a protector and
she would soon have one in Ptohlmar.

Role

Chapter 5

It was a day like any other. Ptohlmar was returning to the
Tree after a long time away. He noticed his food sack was
running low on food, so he quickly lunged at some nearby
quail when suddenly, out of nowhere, a sharp pain exploded
from where his wing used to be. It was that day with the
Imperials so long ago all over again. The quails, startled
by the sharp cry, scattered away. Ptohlmar fell to his knees
and then on his face. His face squinched with pain until he
gave a final exacerbated breath and fell unconscious.
...
**Flash**
***You find yourself back in General Northwing's home, about
an hour before Ptohlmar would arrive to meet his fate***
...
The General kept a large black book next to him as he tapped
on its pages, pondering. He stared off at the painting of
the Emperor he had kept in his study, but it was obvious that
his focus was elsewhere. He stared blankly for minutes,
pondering and tapping on the page. Pondering and tapping.
Finally, after a few moments, he writes something down:
"I will never fully understand the concept of Vivimancy. This
weed has great power, but I now know I will never be able to
harvest its true power. It is like nothing I have ever seen.
I don't know why, but this weed acts like the unholy weapon
of a death knight, storing souls. But there are differences.."
The General stops for a moment, the sound of muttered speaking
interrupting his writing. It continues, but all he can make
out are the mutters and the sound of books hitting the ground.
He unsheaths his blade and puts it by his side and contnues to
write: "The first one is that it will not take a soul that has
been unwillingly stolen. Secondly, it is said to grant eternal
life to he who gives it his soul. I don't know this to be true,
but I have found a way to perform the proper ritual. Long have
studied and researched these ancient books... but now, I know
what I must do, and how to do it. I will give it my-
His sentence is cut short as he hears the near inaudible click
of his secret bookcase opening. Slow, echoing footsteps follow.
General Northwing stands, sword to his thigh, and looks out
through the dark passageway leading to the ascending stairs.

Role

Chapter 1

Ptohlmar awakens near the Tree in a cold sweat. He struggles a
bit to regain his composure, but eventually is able to stand.
He looks up at the leaves on the branches of the great Tree and
rays of sun slip through them like water slipping through a
sewer drains. Tears begin to form for a few moments, but
are quickly wiped away as Ptholmar stands and reaffirms his
belief in the cause of the Refuge by shouting into the wilds.
A new purpose is born.
..
...
..
Ptholmar's epiphany has raised many questions in his life.
He now seeks, aside from his goals with the Refuge, to find the
true meaning of his existance - and more importantly, of what
will be when his mortal body is no more. Curious and anxious
to find out where it would lead him, he has begun his search
Urtrekis and his followers.

Role

Chapter 4

General Northwing stares intently into the darkness as he
prepares for what comes. The footsteps become louder and closer.
Finally, a grinning human emerges. His skin tone is almost
pitch black and the grin he wears is not from amusement. His
face is devoid of a left cheek, giving him a permanent half-grin.
"General Northwing, I presume.", says the hooded figure.
Northwing, grasping his blade tightly, asks, "Who are you?".
The hooded human disregards his question and speaks, "You have
something of ours, General. We'd like it back."
General Northwing grits his teeth and lunges at his intruder,
but he is too quick with his magic, and utters a spell. Northwing
slumps to the ground asleep. Utterly more dark incantations, the
hooded human afflicts the General with various diseases, plagues
and ailments. After what seemed to be hours, the general comes to
with a sickly cough and bleeding ulcers all over his body.
The hooded human whispers, "Give it to me and I might spare you."
Northwing manages to conjure up some diseased phlegm and uses his
last bit of strength to spit it at his intruder. As the phlegm
strikes the hooded figure, the general falls to the ground
exhausted. "Die.", the hooded figure says, as he points a single
finger at the General. General Northwing stops breathing.

Role

Chapter 3

The hooded figure scours the study for any evidence of the weed.
He searches until he stops to gaze at the large black book that
General Northwing was writing in moments before. He reads the
last paragraph out loud:
"I will give it my own essence so that the Emperor will have in
me my eternal service. The Spire will surely jump at the chance
to be affiliated with a province whose General is immortal..."
The writing stops there. The hooded human stifles a quick
chuckle, but just as quickly, it is interrupted by the sound of
a struggle upstairs.

Role

Chapter 2

**Flash**
***Suddenly we are back to when Ptohlmar's wing was being ripped
off.***
Ptohlmar lay motionless on the ground. His father, still
afflicted by the poisons, was near dead as well. He produces a
grey weed from the hilt of his sword and places it on his son's
wound. Uttering a few jumbled words, the weed begins to shine
with a golden light, enveloping both he and his son. Everything
was quiet and all that could be heard were two faint heart beats.
General Northwing spoke as he looked on, "My son, I do not fear
death... I give my life so that you can live yours. I know not
of your destiny, but whatever it may be, give it your essence.
Do not fear death, for it comes to us all. Embrace it and find
your true purpose in life. Teach and protect those you love as I
have you. I love you." And with a bright golden flash, General
Northwing disappears and the massive wound on Ptohlmar's back
closes.

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