Drasdan the Grand Master of Changelings, Tempered Claw of the Brigade

Role

Chapter 9

**** An excerpt from the Journal of Drasdan ****

The Field Marshall watches me. I did not think myself
worthy of such scrutiny....

Good, but I can be better. A flattering statement that,
I had hoped that perhaps I was on the right path, now
I know that I am, but where will it lead finally.

The Field Marshal asked that I take the squires and
scribes awake when Pyogyor fell, and bring some
semblence of organization, to being leadership to
the listless mass who had no direction. I did try,
but again, more work was needed. Clear communication
to everyone of their purpose and duty... Something
I think every member of the Fortress, Brigade or
acolyte should strive for.

He also asked that I get better at bringing the Light
unto the Dark hearted. That I learn the hunt better,
not letting up on them till they fall. Finally I
understand what he means. Kubolza thought she could
simply walk away from me when we met at the village,
Much to her surprise, I gave immediate chase, and
she fell. Now I think I know what the Field Marshall
spoke of....

Am I ready for the weight of the Maran's Mantle?

I hope so, duty weighs heavily in the Light, but with
the sustaining faith of our Brothers and Sisters, it
can be as a feather.

Role

Chapter 8

**** An Excerpt from the journal of Drasdan ****
These are dark day's for the Brigade. One of our own
cast out for slaying another who walks in the Light.
Our Marshal removed from his position. Squires
advocating war with the Isle. Dark days indeed.

I have raised my voice to counter these things, and
others have joined in. But I think more will be needed
in the end to ensure that this darkness is expunged
completely.

Thuorn is a good and strong leader, but as he said
he cannot speak for the Brigade so much as advise them.
Leaders are needed. There are few though that the
gods have deemed worth enough to be full Maran. But
perhaps, soon we will have leadership again.

The weight of duty is heavy, but a burden gladly carried.

Role

Chapter 7

**** An except from the Journal of Drasdan ****
We are strong in number, but are we truly strong in
spirit. I spoke with Sollin today. Many who walk
in these Shining Halls do so in presence only.
Not fighting the battles that need to be fought.
Whether scribe, or squire... Acolyte or Maran, all
are called to battle.

I have never been much for words, and probably
never will be. I feel that actions speak more clearly.
My actions must speak. I must do those things that
others do not, that we might stand stronger as a
Fortress. That those who do battle from these halls
know our sacred duty to be between the darkness and
the innocent.

Till the day of Victory comes.

Drasdan Lightbourne

Role

Chapter 6

**** An except from the journal of Drasdan ****

It's been a long time since that day, sometimes
when I look down, I can still see his blood on
my hands, and feel the knife sliping from my
fingers. It seems appropriate that I have become
a Squire, whose greatest fear is becoming like those
they hunt. I fear every day, that I will wake and
feel his red hot anger deep inside of me, raging to
get loose, and I will lose control.

Knowing this, I must steele my resolve. I know when
I came into the Fortress that my hope was to one day
have a family if the Battle should be over. I hope
that my days of being a Squire, learning the lessons
taught here, will help me to keep that hope alive, that
in learning not to become that which I hunt, I can
learn to become something better than Him. I have
shed his name, and in doing so, I take on a new one.

Drasdan Lightbourne

Role

Chapter 5

His heart is pure, deep down. What will rise out
of the fires that consumed his home and the bodies of
his parents. A man, borne from the boy, looking, searching,
for forgiveness, for purpose.

Sadness and Guilt mark this young man. He's come from
great trials and works towards a path that he can over
come these feelings. Guilt that he couldn't save his
mother, guilt that he killed his father. These feelings
eat at him deeply when he is not careful.

His skill at the guild of Shapeshifting surprised him.
Years spent hearing his father say he would never amount
to anything took their toll. Now he wishes that he could
show his father, and his mother, that he has accomplished
something.

Drasdan knows challenge, he knows what it means to lose the
will to fight, and then to gain it back. Lessones learned
from Draugnir at the anvil have put his feet on the path
to reforging himself from the fires of his first trials.

Role

Chapter 4

Drasdan cringes a bit each time they bellow as he
passes by the watchers. But the song is too strong
now. He must move forward.

As the last bellow rolls across him he stumbles into
a large cave. Rich veins of some strange metal flow
through the rock likke rivers. He looks around, almost
numbly as the song rages, the hammers falling in a
great crescendo in his head. His gaze falls upon a
dwarf standing near a large anvil.

"What are ye lookin fer" says the dwarf in a gruff voice.

"I don't know.... I followed the song." said Drasdan

Drasdan withers a little under the dwarves gaze, but then
something within him, deep down, drives into his spine
encouraging him to meet the gaze of this dwarf with
resolute firmness.

"I ain't fer knowing why the song hit ya the way it
did, cause I ain't fer knowing the trials ye have faced
yet. But I know that if'n ya heard the song, ya faced
'em. Songs there ta help ya learn how ta get past 'em.
name's Draugnir. I be a Noldarian, tha way of Thror.
Sit yerself down a bit, 'an I'll give ya a bit o' advice.
After that, rest is up ta you." said Draugnir

It seems like days that Drasdan sat at the feet of Draugnir
but at the same time, it left him yearning for years at
this ones feet. In the end though, Drasdan walked back
out of the mountains firmly on his path to overcome his
trials, reforging himself into something better.

Role

Chapter 3

Drasdan had come to know his new friend as Reginald. The
son of a minor noble from Galadon.

Reginald never pushed for more than Drasdan was willing to
give about his past. He had more than enough money to cover
the expense of Drasdan living in the guild. After a time,
Drasdan even began accompanying Reginald to his classes.

It turned out fate was even more fortuitious. Drasdan it
seemed had an apptitude for the lessons. So much so, that
the Guildmaster eventually allowed him to stay on for free
to learn and apprentice to the guild.

As his teaching progressed the days were longer, but they
did something for Drasdan, the learning filled part of the
void. But there was still something else. Still a part of
him that was empty.

One day, Reginald and Drasdan were tasked with a task to
travel to Akan and trade some things with the Dwarves there.
As they walked through the mountains, teh feeling tugged at
him. Something pulled him north, past the Crossroads, deeper
into the mountains. Something faint, the ringing of metal
on metal. He waved Reginald on to Akan as he continued his
march north.

Up into the mountains he wakled, the sound became louder as
he did. More distinct, almost musical...

Role

Chapter 2

Drasdan walked around Voralia for months, living in corners of
alleys. Scrounging what food he could from the trash of the
Inns, or the charity of the Cathedral. The Numbess persisted.

Often he would walk by the burnt out shell of his old home.
Wondering, if anyone knew the real story of that night. Had
the peacekeepers investigated? Would anyone know how it had
all ended?

On days when it was held, Drasdan often found himself attending
services in the Cathedral. He would light a candle for the
spirit of his mother every week, hoping that she had finally
found peace.

He was on his own now. It was a day like any other, that it
finally broke free. He sobbed at the loss of his mother, and
surprisingly at the loss of his father. In the end, he'd
lost the only family he knew. Some would say it was fate,
others would say luck, but as he sat there on the bridge,
a another young man walking by notice him.

"You ok?" He asked

"Yeah..." Drasdan said quickly attempting to regain his composure.

"You look like you could use someone... Where do you live" said
the young man

"Nowhere." said Drasdan

"We all live somewhere. Come on, I've got a room in the guild there
around the corner. You can bunk with me for a bit. Till you get
yourself straight." said the young man

Without much else to say, Drasdan nodded and stood to follow the man
around the corner and into the guild of shapeshifting.

Role

Chapter 1

Was this the night? He was drunker than usual, his temper
was bad when he was sober, when he was drunk, it was a
raging fire, ready to burn anything in its path.

This boy, barely seventeen, had seen more pain, shed more
tears than any he knew save maybe his mother. At first she
tried to shelter him, to save him the pain. But it only
made the beatings worse. After a time, she became numb to
his pain, because her's was just as bad. Both lived in a
fog, often trying to leave when they saw the drinking start.
This time, though, he had started at the Inn around the corner
on the souther docks.

He started with her, as he did most nights it happened. Some
small perceived slight sent him into a rage. He beat her
into unconsciousness. When she no longer moved, he walked
over to his chair and sat down with a bottle of some non-
descript alcohol. Drasdan walked over to check on his mother,
to see if this indeed was the night. Shallow breaths, a
small muffled whimper told him she still lived, though barely.

He looked up at his father, his face a mix of anger, and sadness.
His father looked down at him, and his rage was kindled further.

"Get 'way from her boy. She done got what she deserved. Worthless;role + wench!" his father said.

"She's not worthless!" Yelled Drasden, too late did he realize
his mistake. His father flew from his chair at the young boy.
The pummling began, and Drasdan fell within himself, to a place
where the pain could not touch him. Just as quickly as it
started, the blows stopped. Drasdan looked up to see his father
turn upon his mother, who had grabbed his ankle and tugged with
all her might.

"She's not worthless!" Yelled Drasden, too late did he realize
his mistake. His father flew from his chair at the young boy.
The role + "WENCH! Get your hands off me!" screamed his father as he
stumbled into the table and knocked over several candles, starting
a small fire in the nearby waste pile. He began beating her
again. This time he didn't stop when she stopped moving.
began, and Drasdan fell within himself, to a place
where the pain could not touch him. Just as quickly as it
started, the blows stopped. Drasdan looked up to see his father
turn upon his mother, who had grabbed his ankle and tugged with
all her might.

Drasdan stumbled to his feet, using the table to brace himself,
he looked down as his hand closed over something hard, the handle
to a large cooking knife....

Drasdan picked up the knife. In is dissasociated state, he was
mildly surprised at how easily the knife slipped into his father's
back. And more so, at the look of shock on his fathers face as
he turned to see his son standing behind him, with the knife still
in his back. The fire had grown by now to something that would
eventually consume the house. As his father fell Drasdan reached
out to his mother taking a small kerchief, turned and ran out the door....

Immortal Comments

PK Gank-O-Meter

PK Statistics

Skill List

Title History

Arena Statistics

PK Wins

PK Wins

PK Deaths

Leveling History

Timeline

Mob Deaths

Edges

Flaws

Racial Edges

Class Edges

Edges