Liosthen Zalstanei the Affirmation of Life, Imperial Priest

Role

Chapter 4

He prayed below the corpse of the unknown crusader, who was chained to
the ceiling, splayed upside down, with his severed head impaled into the
new top of his body with an iron spike.

Chemarcan bind my soul
Hold me and teach me
Keep me in the lawful way
Away from the madness and chaos
Far from so called freedom and its doubtful joy
May we serve well in our sentence
The Lord Chemarcan.

He stood slowly, taking in the sight of the ruined church around him,
looking at what was, and seeing what could be.

He imagined the walls lined with cages, opening only to force labor on
constructing a more suitable dungeon. In time, black marble walls, with
thick grouting between them, to give the illusion of being able to chip
away at it, but enchanted to heal itself after several days, that they
might suffer more for the loss of their work.

He thought of the torture of those who would violate the law. The
severing of the tendons of those who fought the ways of order, that they
would never again raise a hand against it. The chained souls of loved
ones fighting one another, wailing in misery. Others being shown what
they will no longer ever have, for it is vital to remind the lawbreakers
that while they suffer, there are others who know joy.

He felt regretful only in the absence of others that serve as he. But
that would change. As he grows in power and rank within the Empire, so
do the numbers of those who seek to curry his favor, and through that,
his lord's. For with a taste of that power, it becomes addictive, and he
shall demand far more of them to receive it in time. He is their better,
for while they indulge in their success, he punishes himself, forsaking
pleasures of the flesh such as eating, drinking, or even sleep,
satisfying himself only in his lord's power, that he might be stronger
for it.

He walked from the church, a drop of blood from the crusader landing on
his forehead. His ambition was set.

Role

Chapter 3

He searched long and hard through countless tomes of forgotten lore to
find any mention of the name of his lord, but was met with nothing. In
those places he thought most likely to be useful, he was ejected from due
to the nature of his search.

Still he pressed on, but he was running out of time and patience. Just
as he was nearing the end of his rope, he came across what could be a
lead. He discovered a tome that mentioned in passing the use of divine
names in the crafting of spells, but nothing else.

Further digging revealed that one use for the names was in advanced
conjuration for the binding of powerful thaumaturgic entities. The lead
was now looking extremely promising. However, he ran into a snag when he
learned the book was stolen by a member of the necromancer guild for use
in a similar fashion, but for undead spirits. Knowing that anyone doing
anything "advanced" in necromancy tended to be less than living, he was
prepared for the worst.

After extensive bribery and other means of "persuasion," he learned from
members of the necromancer guild in the imperial lands that it is rumored
that one called the gravewalker had written a book of spells like the
ones described in the other book. And so he had his lead.

Role

Chapter 2

His suffering continued in silence.

He continued in his work, and was even given what could be called a
promotion. He was to work directly with the High Inquisitor herself.

Now, anyone with even a cursory understanding of the workings of Teth
Azeleth understands that he was given a death sentence by this new
"promotion." Still, he was forced to accept.

He worked with her for several years, constantly walking on eggshells.
The stress began to affect him, causing his work to decline, which only
caused him more stress.

He began having dreams. In these dreams he would see a bat chained to an
hourglass. As he continued having these dreams, the hourglass held less
and less sand. His time, he realized, was running out.

He realized his time was over when he made a mistake which killed the
prisoner she was working on.

Knowing what was about to happen, he merely knelt where he was, and
waited for the inevitable. She did not disappoint.

He felt a collar being placed around his neck that he knew to be linked
to the table, meaning she had cut off the prisoner's head to remove it.
The snapping of the locking mechanism rang like a death knell in his
mind.

"The sentence begins." He announced quietly to himself.

He listened, as he always did, for the sound of bat wings in the
distance.

They did not come. In its place he heard the familiar sound of someone
choking to death.

The chain on his collar pulled violently as he heard the body slump to
the ground, causing him to finally opened his eyes.

He stared into the eyes of the High Inquisitor, flecks of blood in the
sclera slowly expanding as the life slowly left her body.

He stood knelt there for a long time, the shock of the event still
registering in his mind. He felt a light tug on the chain attached to
his collar which brought him out of his stupor.

His miserable imprisonment within the tunnels of the drow city was at a
close. It was time to claim all that he deserved.

Running a finger along the inside of the thick collar, he knew who he had
to thank.

Role

Chapter 1

"The sentence concludes."

He listened closely for the fluttering of bat wings that always
accompanied those words as he began removing the blood-soaked bandages
from the fresh corpse in an attempt to salvage the material. Suffice it
to say, medical supplies for use on inquisitions were in less than
excess. But he lived with what he was given, for it was far better than
where most of the other males in the city ended up working. Or rotting.
Compared to that, the life of an inquisition medic was not bad at all.

Still, though he lacked the skills of a warrior that would allow him a
rank within the nightmare of the matriarchy, he lusted for more than his
current station. He longed for a life in which he would not be treated
as a mobile piece of furniture by the female inquisitors. A life in
which he was the one making the rules, the laws that brought the
condemned before him. Where he could treat women the way they treated
him for so many decades.

He looked down at the broken body on the table. He felt a strange
connection to the man, know that they are both prisoners in some way.

"At least his sentence is over. Mine goes on without end." He said to
himself, the bitterness of the thought sticking heavily on his tongue.

He sighed heavily, and continued with his work.

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