Kiraava Terrilin the Grand Master of Artistry, Advisor to the Chancellor

Role

Chapter 7

He lies within the Chasm, coughing up blood, merely trying to mutter the
simplest of canticle to no avail. Anger courses his veins as he looks about
the always vacant Chasm. Shaking his head, he tries to give up... clutching
his envenomed dagger and slitting his wrists he leans up against the cold
stone as he fades away.

Blackness almost sets in, but words will not stop ringing through his mind.
"""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""
Weaking!....
.................Coward!
....You were never part of the prophecy!
...........You are just as feeble as the minstrel before!
..The Hydra would eat you and think nothing of it!
..........."I've heard these claims before Kiraava. They all fall away."
Your father didn't even care about you, why should anyone else!?
...................................DIE!
"""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""

Gasping for dear life, he returns from the darkness with merely a strand of
life left. Falling to the feet of the Dark Healer, pleading for aid to live,
he nods at him as his skin begins to return the color.

"I was enjoying watching you die, now you must do something else...
Minstrel." the Dark Healer mutters with anger. "I will call upon you when I
please, for then, should you ever wish to be your own death I will be sure to
contact some very persuasive demons to make your afterlife hell." he cackles
maniacally.

For the first time almost feeling fright, Kiraava crawls away and recuperates
in the Maw of Stone. "I must never do this again, I must lead this Chasm to
where it has already been preordained. Nothing will stop me now."

Role

Chapter 6

Kiraava clutches his lute as he glides into the Chasm, confidence dripping
from him like the poisonous droplets on his Nightwalker cohorts fangs.
"Greetings, dear Archmage" as a grin slowly forms across his face. "You
requested a song from me, I stand ready for your audience." he cackles as the
Archmage crosses his arms and says "Well?"...

Bloody, bloody this! Bloody, bloody that! Bloody, bloody Feyhan moves in to
attack!

The prayers of this Duergar leave you poisoned and plagued! With chilling
fear gripping you, all the way to the grave!

You're withered, you're rotting, your body gives out! No strength left within
you except to cry out and shout!

But shouts cannot save you, you'll be consumed by the Druk'trar! Falling deep
into darkness, just like a struck star!

And, ho'! Kiraava has another Duergar, deep on his mind! My tongue shall
flick in his face, he will soon see malign!

He will scowl and resist, with depression deep from my psalms! Until his
whole Empire explodes like proverbial bombs!'

*Kiraava pauses for a moment as he prepares for the grand finale, flicking
his tongue into shape for more complicated rhymes.*

He can salute all he wants, puff his chest with sheer pride! But I've eyed
his snide hide and will stride pied until he has died!

Know by now it is Yarglen, I won't stop until I am feared! He shall be
sneered until his weird beard is sheared and disappeared!

Kiraava flourishes his snow leopard skin before the Archmage after finishing
up the performace. "I....approve." echoes off the walls as pride swells up
within his soul, only to be cut slightly at "Now go make use of yourself and
return my scepter."

Clutching his lute even tighter he scrambles out of the Chasm, determined to
impress the strongest mage in Thera.

Role

Chapter 5

*****************************************************************************
Sitting atop a cabin over a monastery, Kiraava thinks deeply on the path his
life takes. Wonderment and excitement soon overcome him with deeper
enlightenment, he must figure out the Truth behind the prophecies, he must.
*****************************************************************************

Spilling another bottle of wine over in his drunken stupor, he reacts quickly
and brushes off his cloak. Snorting, he angrily takes the handle and shatters
it into a thousand tiny pieces about him as he sits back down.

He stares off into the night sky, enjoying the view, and thinking many things
until his eyes look back to his cloak to see the stain that was left behind.
His mind begins to click, he doesn't know if it is brilliance or plain
stupidity, but he starts talking out loud in theories.

"""
This stain, it is here, and it will always be here... it may get fainter, and
others may not be able to see it, but the difference is I know it is there,
and I will always be able to find it!

Where is what caused it though!?
***
He squints to try and find the pieces of glass atop the roof. Only glimmers
in the moonlight allow him to see the reflections of residue that was left
behind.
***
The catalyst is here, no one can see it, unless the Truth of the action is
revealed!

Perhaps the Eternal Darkness is the same principal. The nightwalkers are
obviously all around for the Pit Fiends to call upon in a moments notice.
What if the nightwalkers are the stains?! Even greater, what if those portals
they come through are like this glass!? Everywhere, but naked to our eyes...
unless, just unless we need the knowledge... implying the Darkness is all
around us we just need to reach higher Enlightenment and Truth!
"""

Staring back into the night sky, his eyes dart about in wonderment. He must
attune himself to greater things, he must find the broken glass.

Role

Chapter 4

The stinging sands bite at his skin as the winds swirl violently. Pulling his
cloak about him, he squints into the Araile as he clutches his old black lyre
and sword underneath his protective leopard skin. He continues pushing
through the sands until he finally reaches what he had been searching for for
so long. He steps toward the Nightwalker with intrigue as the winds halt to
merely a breeze allowing him to see better, and begins to circle the beast
that he expected to be hostile.

Gutteral growls escape behind the blood-stained fangs as the Nightwalker eyes
his movements. The slightest smirk forms over Kiraavas' pale pink lips as he
rummages through this floating chest and pulls out a sealed parchment. "Some
called me crazy for thinking to hand deliver this myself," he mutters with a
strong smell of wine on his breath, "and I agree with them. But, aren't the
men remembered by history on the same proverbial boat?".

A brief chuckle overcomes him as he steps forward unfearful and holds the
parchment out for the Nightwalker to take. Sensing no fear, it is accepted by
the loyal guardian as it seems to disappear instantly into the shadows to
stash it within the Pit of Darkness.

"The prophecy will be fulfilled, there is no turning back now." he cackles as
he flourishes his cloak and disappears into the sands once again.

Role

Chapter 3

Finding his way into Hamsah Mu'tazz, he decided he would live here and expose
himself to Thera. For if he were to be complacent on any of the Truths he
ever decoded, he would still be breathing sand and eating rodent meat alone
in his wagon. At least, that was a principle the soothsayers preached, in
their times in the sand they spoke of a God who was the pure embodiment of
Truth, they gave no name, just a symbol... the Hydra. Ruffling through every
text he could before he left, he found secrets and clues of what this Hydra
stood for. If it inspired his people this much, and if every prophecy they
ever spoke was True, he had no choice but to revel in it. That Truth had him
within this city, with a purpose, all he had to do now was avail himself to
see where he went.

Those fools that were his people may have semblances of Truth, but how could
they complacently just sit in the desert all their life if they knew they
would go nowhere? He was done with them, and he was ready to start his new
life.

Amazed at all the new things surrounding him within this bustling city, he
soon found a guild that valued music as much as he did, some of them even
singing in his favorite dreary tones. They seemed much more depressed, but
they obviously wouldn't do as much as he would in this life. He joined their
ranks and began wandering... what prophecies could he find, what new Truths
could he now uncover? The life of Kiraava Terrilin began now...

Role

Chapter 2

As Kiraava grew into adolescence he dusted off the things his father left
behind, there was ironically nothing really of note, besides a small silver
lyre. Secluding himself from the others for hours at a time, he practiced
with it relentlessly. His skill grew, all the way to a moment where
everything made sense, for there was always a sadistic tone to his lyrics.
Laughing at death, and finding humor in it, his dull dreary tones amused him
constantly leading to that moment of revelation that became his Truth. The
prophecy was true afterall, it just wasn't what it seemed to be.

Strategically he would put himself near those whom he knew were going through
hard times, and make lyrics to laugh at them, pretending as if he had no
idea. He didn't know if it was revenge, or just the fact that death and
sorrow didn't affect him and it was amazingly intriguing to see how others
responded. It soon led to obsession, every prophecy he could remember, he set
out to find the Truth to it.

He uncovered many, and in every single one, the Truth in the end never was
the obvious. The greatest of these prophecies was perfectly timed when he
knew he did not want to be confined to these wagons any longer. The
soothsayers always said, there would be a day when one of their people would
emerge to change the world. Upon that day, that man would slay a sand beetle
fifty times larger than him, with one mere blow from his leg. His wit amused
him as he broke into the reagents of the seers wagon, quaffing a small
crimson potion, the world shrunk around him as he climbed over each grain of
sand... he danced about the beetle when it found him until he grew back to
his normal size. Laughing hysterically, he stomped it deep into the sand and
nodded to himself. He was done here.

Role

Chapter 1

Truth... so many think they have it, so many versions from so many subjects,
but... what happens, when that Truth is no longer relative? What happens when
a Truth is everyone's Truth, regardless of belief? So many are lost on a path
to Truth, a swirling fog of limitless journeys, where everything seems True
at the time, until the deepest moment of revelation strikes you with the
final chapter of it. An extreme rarity that one finds their way there, but
when one finally arrives... and reads that chapter...

----

Kiraava Terrilin was given no chance from birth to be anything but a failure.
His home could be described as a crude ritualistic culture, mere sand gypsies
in the Araile whose only real goal was survival. Could they find water today?
When would the hunters come through with another meal? What was the new
foresight over the most recent child that was birthed? Could he be the one to
save our people?

He certainly was discarded from the latter, the moment his first scream
echoed through the caravan, the soothsayer gasped as she turned to his
parents, "I fear this one will only bring sorrow and sadness to the world,
put him with the lesser children, for he has no promise". The soothsayers
were never wrong, so in touch with their bloodline only an abomination could
sway a reading. Or perhaps, a lack of Truth.

His parents were bewildered from the moment he spoke. Nothing but happiness,
laughter, delight, and an extremely bright outlook on life exuded from
Kiraava. Always the center of attention, always one to turn someone's
disposition from negative to positive. How could this even be?... His father
could think of nothing else other than a wife to cheat upon him with an
outsider, so convinced of it that he took his life before Kiraava knew
better... a bastard child that led to his Mother's same fate from the pain of
her loss.

It struck a chord among the others, Kiraava was not even phased. Oddly enough
he found it funny, even to the point of making jokes of it...

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