Sirak Nir-Zescham the Warrior of the Shield, Anathema to the Empire

Role

Chapter 5

Sirak stood before the ruined hut, completely taken aback. His rich
brown hair was just long enough to slay slightly with the strong breeze,
blowing quickly but lightly to the south. He stared into the darkened
opening, as tears began to well up within his eyes. The hut had been
abandoned for quite some time, it seemed. The farm was in ruin, weeds
grew out of every nook, and the rest was just a mixture of grass and
wildflowers. A villager walked by, his quizzically eyes questioning
Siraks presence there, but he seemed friendly either way. Sirak asked
the man what had happened, and his reply was a bit less than cordial. He
explained how the familys no good son had left them, and sought out the
Empire. He had left his sick Father to try and care for his family, when
he could barely get out of bed. It did not take long for the family to
go destitute, and their death came shortly after. As his tears came on
in full, Sirak dropped his daggers, and fell to his knees. He could
never get his fathers forgiveness, now. All that was left was his
mother, whom he had no idea of. All he had was his family name, and no
idea from where his bloodline led. The name Nir-Zescham, it led
somewhere, and Sirak would find it. He had already traveled to Darsylon,
what was next? Were there any other High-Elf cities in Thera? It didnt
matter, Sirak had to keep going, he had to find her.

Sirak knelt down to pick up his daggers. He could barely see them
through the blur of tears in his eyes. He accidently nicked his finger,
and felt a drop of warm blood upon his fingers. He stopped to remember
when he had signed the paper in blood, sealing his fate. Perhaps he had
not, as he had not completed the binding of his soul to this dark god of
prisons. Sirak could not worry about his afterlife just yet, though. He
still had to prove in this life who he is, and how his life has changed

Role

Chapter 4

The cost had been too great, it seems. Sirak stood upon a mountain,
alone. His hair had begun to grow back, and the tattoo upon his head was
beginning to be covered in rich brown hair. His Hazel eyes show a great
change in him. He looks upon the lands of Thera, thinking to himself how
the haunting thoughts were gone. His guilt had gotten the best of him.
Sirak turned to look where the palace would lie. He was anathema now.
Theres no turning back. He did not mind that, though. His heart was
set, and his guilt was gone. The elves no longer bothered him. His mind
no longer wandered to that area of judgment, where he felt the ultimate
shame. Sirak smiled to himself. When he went to sleep that night, his
dreams were much more pleasant.

Members of the fortress stood therenot looking at him, but standing next
to him. The most prominent one was Athioles. That young human had
brought about the big change in Sirak. Sirak could not stand next to
them, yet however. He had to get all those hes wronged in the name of
the Empire to forgive, and he must prove his soul is redeemed. It will
be a long and arduous journey, but the physical pain is nothing to the
mental pain he felt.

Role

Chapter 3

He envisioned a group of shadowed figures, their features betraying their
Elven nature. He can see that they are at least looking in his
direction. He can feel their scorn, their hatrednaytheir shame. Sirak
tried to fight it, but his will was overpowered by the sense of guilt,
one he had never known before. GET AWAY! He cried out, or tried to. It
only echoed throughout his mind. The figures grew larger, and he
smaller. This was his judgement, his ultimate suffering! What had he
done!

What would your Elven ancestors think? This awoke Sirak instantly.
Another nightmare, he thought. That single statement was more profound
that he wanted to admit. He never once thought of that. These words,
spoken by Athioles, a lightwalker, yet powerful warrior, whom Sirak
deeply respected, although he disliked, actually stung. Oh how those
maces stung! Those words stung more, however.

I care not what he thinks! Sirak snarled, as he threw his dagger into
the wall of his ornate bedroom. He sat in the middle of his large,
double bed, made of a rich Mahogany. The mattress was filled with
feathers, from fallen druids, who had shifted to a condor. He slowly got
up, and looked out his second story window, framed by silver. The room
was only temporary, of course, until he achieved a higher rank with the
Empire, he would move up, to a moreaccommodating room. That didnt
matter right now, he was here, and he was haunted.

What would they think? Would it be shame? Most importantly, why do I
care? Sirak snarled again, and his eyes filled with rage, as he threw
his other dagger, to land right next the one from before. I cannot
worry about this now. He muttered to himself. Too much at risk, too
much I still need to gain. With this, he gathered his things, and left,
with one thought, almost silently tugging at his subconscious. At what
cost?

Role

Chapter 2

The Imperial Palace, a place of wonder and amazement, and for
some...repulsion. The latter, they didn't matter, they would be crushed
in time, at least those were the thoughts of the now bald Half-elf. He
strode towards the palace, his face full of confidence. He got to the
front gate, and was stopped, by the Imperial Vanquisher.

An Acolyte had seen his approach, and came to...greet him. Luckily for
Sirak, the Acolyte wanted information first. The questioning soon led to
a certain question..."What do you feel within your heart?"

Sirak's answer, he could not think of one simple answer. "I feel
empowered when I am here, I feel the power the Great Empire exudes. I
seek it's power, and I have the power to go far into it. I seek power,
and I believe the only way to get to it, is through strength. One can
never attain the levels they want sneaking around, pilfering trinkets, or
hiding in the shadows. I wish..nay, I will be above the masses, and I
will rule over them, in one way or another."

The acolyte replied "That sounds a bit treasonous, as if you plan to
overthrow the Empress, but, I know where your heart lies. Two things you
must do. Grow stronger, join a guild that suits you, and, when you
believe your worthy, seek out Enlilth, and see if you truly are worthy.
There, you will be judged, and if found worthy, you shall go far, very
far." With that, the Acolyte closed his eyes, and then...was gone!

Role

Chapter 1

Sirak's childhood began as any other normal childhood would. He grew up
in a small village, where no one had more than another. However, the
elders put a strong emphasis on education. So, the young Half-elf went
to school every day, and about midday, was let out, to help his family
farm. After his work was done, he'd have time to play with the other
children. Although, sometimes the other children didn't want to play,
because he was stronger than them, and sometimes took advantage of it.
Life went on like this for a good while, and as Sirak grew, he had less
and less friends, and just did more and more work to pass time...

Sirak's lean, muscular body was covered in sweat as he tilled the field.
He had to work hard, because they hadn't harvested much last season. He
had gotten half the field done today, no small feat, especially with his
father sick, and unable to even get out of bed. So on Sirak worked,
making sure to get enough to feed his family through this season, and
make up for last.

He heard loud horns in the distance, and looked up to see what it was.
The sight he saw made him feel small. He saw four men, all dressed in
rags, carrying a giant throne, upon which sat a woman, the Empress of
Thera. To her side, floated the High Priest, and the rest of the Council
walked behind her. A few young Acolytes had joined the procession as
well, striding gracefully behind the council. In front of the procession
were the younger blades, shoving villagers out of the way, and slaying
those who refused to pay respects. Sirak was fairly skilled in his
younger fights, with a small stick. His only thought was, He wanted to
be Emperor.

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