Niicrolius Tempestas the Evocator of Sundered Lightning

Role

Chapter 10

The role of heat is directly related to fire, and subsequently anger, in
Niicrolius's life. Anger has played an interesting role, in that it was
absent for most of his life and then burned so hot it was impossible to
control. Through his patron diety and lessons of fire (woven through the
role), he has begun to control it.

Role

Chapter 9

Niicrolius reached out with his slender half-drow fingers and snatched a bit
of herb growing on the rocks in the Silverwood forest. He kept jogging over
the forest terrain as his fingers created an herbal medicine paste and
applied it to his wounds. All of his actions were those of a man who had done
this all before, thousands of times, and his muscles moved without needing
much conscious thought. Instead his brain was concentrating on the problem at
hand, north of him. The band of magistrates and law scum had his
fetish...again. The fetish the Ancients had given to the Outlanders to
protect and draw strength from. He had to get it back. Again.

He never remembered having this problem when he first took the position of
Harbinger, but their numbers had thinned and the Tribunal seemed to take any
foolish idiot who asked to serve. His fighting in the wretched city of
Galadon to retrieve their fetish was becoming an old and unwanted habit. He
spit a bit of blood from his mouth and concentrated on healing the wounds the
guards had given him and prepared to return. The shadow of a golden eagle
overhead stopped him in his tracks. He knew from experience the avian
creature wasn't natural. A scion shapeshifting mage that stood no chance by
himself often took the opportunity of Niicrolius being in a weakened and
vulnerable state like he was now to end him. Just like a jackal finding a
wounded lion...and all too often this jackal was succeeding.

He ducked into some caves, but he couldn't truly hide in the forest from the
mage without the power of the fetish. Running, he fell into a shaft that he
had never seen in these caves before. Time seemed to stand still until his
wirey limbs collided with the cold, damp ground and his form was but a heap
on the stone ground. A voice echoed all around him, "Take a
moment...Harbinger."

Groggy, Niicrolius lifted his head, but the darkness made it impossible to
make out even the feintess detail of his surroundings. The raspy voice seemed
to float from all directions, "You are a strong priest. You have led your
branch far. You have begun to understand and master your anger, but look at
you. You are swimming upstream and you cannot put in the energy and the time
to strengthen the branch any more. Feel this, Priest of Anger? Feel the cold
rock beneath you? You remember the lessons of Fire and Anger and Destruction
the Howling Ancient taught you? It's time now you respect the absence of
those things. It's time to step back and let another Harbinger tend the
fire."

Role

Chapter 8

**SPHERE: ANGER**
Niicrolius's childhood, present life, and future, are all about the
presence and seeming absence of anger in him. Perhaps a subtle irony, his
childhood was marked by a complete lack of anger, even though he
should have been full of it. Two tragedies (murder of his friend/mentor
by a duerger raiding party and murder of his lover by Galadon guards)
pushed him past a breaking point and he fell into fits of rage he did
not understand were part of him. Initially, this is a "Jekyll and Hyde"
complex, but as he matures and grows as a priest of Jasthrean he will
learn how to control and embrace his anger.

Note that he is unlikely to go into verbal anger fits. If he's calm
enough to talk, he will remain civil. His anger takes the form of
silence and brutal combat.


**GOD: JASTHREAN**
He was set upon the path of Jasthrean as his patron god early on, by
his shapeshifter mentor, who could see the deep anger in the seemingly
stoic child that nobody else could. Niicrolius does not view Jasthrean
as human, but as a huge force of nature...like a storm. He does not
expect to have "fatherly" talks with his diety, but does seek a
spiritual link so he can better understand his own anger. He always
feels closest to Jasthrean and the power of nature around a storm or a
violent ocean. He will pray for Jasthrean from those locations.


**CABAL: OUTLANDER**
Obvious choice for Niicrolius. His life's tragedies made it obvious to
him that civilization is weakening the world. He feels it his duty,
specifically the "Hyde" part of him that taps into anger, to destroy it
so that more people can return to the wilderness.


**DEMEANOR AND SPEECH**
Niicrolius has a mediocre, traditional education. Therefore he can read
and write and does not butcher the common tongue. He also walks through
cities without much hesitation. This should not be confused with his
enjoying it or being any less committed to the Outlander cause. His
stoic demeanor simply puts the duty of hunting over his personal
comfort and he is unlikely to complain about things.

Role

Chapter 7

Niicrolius dropped a handful of daisy petals at the foot of a poorly
marked grave. It had been years since Mannia, his lover's, murder at the
hand of the Galadon guards. The anger was usually deeply buried. No
longer did he rush headlong at the guards in the cities. Instead he
applied battle tactics and made sure his battles always went in his
favor. He had joined the Outlander group and felt at home there.

Mist began to fall, and the druid looked up at the sky. Dark ominous
clouds were rolling in quickly from the west. Niicrolius didnt mind. He
always found storms comforting. An hour later the young priest was
resting against the stone wall of a shallow cave, watching the downfall.
The rain lightened as the wind picked-up. Thunder and lightning danced
across the sky, howling in fury. Suddenly, a lightning strike split the
tree in front Niicrolius in half with a deafening boom. Despite the
recently fallen rain, the middle of the tree was dry and slightly
rotten...providing excellent kindling. The lightning spark had started a
fire and the howling wind fed its hunger. It was only about 10 minutes
that the flames wreaked havoc on the nearby trees and grasses, devouring
everything in the path of the fire, before the rains picked up and
squelched the fire. Yet Niicrolius stood mesmerizing by the destruction.
It was like a key slipping into place. He understood...he understood the
lesson. He would have an answer next time he stood before the primal
ancient power of Jasthrean.

Role

Chapter 6

Niicrolius shot up in the dark, breathing heavily and frantic, even
though he had been asleep only a few minutes ago. He touched his face
and felt the cold sweat formed during the nightmare and blinked,
forcing his eyes focus. The outdoor night air was clam and quiet. The
only turmoil had been in his mind. Again.

He has had a series of these nightmares. Each time they started
peaceful enough. He found himself perched on a rocky ledge of the
Tahril mountains, looking out over the choppy ocean. The guttural
growl of Jasthrean echoes around him...comforting at first, but then
becoming louder. In rhythm with his Lords growling voice a violent
storm forms over the ocean and makes its way to the cliffs.
Overwhelmed by the howling wind and pelting rain, the druid tries to
cover his face. Storms had always been soothing to him, but this
extreme case shakes his calmness. The howling wind and Jasthrean's
voice are no longer separate, and they scream around him, 'FIRE!!!
That is the key...understanding the role of FIRE.'

It was no mystery why the druid kept having the nightmare. It was what
Jasthrean had ordered him to do before receiving any more of his
blessing as a priest. Nevertheless, the dreams were becoming more frequent.

Role

Chapter 5

Thinking it was odd, Niicrolius continued on towards his lover's house. When
he got there, he was horrified by the scene. Mannia's lifeless body was near
her dwelling, surrounded by a pool of her own blood. She had been run
through by a sword, from behind. Pinned to the house was a note and a bag of
2 gold coins. The note read...

*********************************************************
The woman nearby was reported to be a criminal. We acted upon the tip and we
killed her while trying to apprehend her. However, upon her death, it was
determined she was not the criminal in question. We apologize for the
inconvenience to her family. Gold to serve as restitution has been left
along with this note.

Sincerely,
Galadonian Special Guard
*********************************************************

Rage and pain doesn't even begin to explain the emotions that ripped through
Niicrolius's body and soul. He ripped the letter off the door, turned around,
and raced back towards the road. The guards had already left, but he
slaughtered every Voralian guard he came across before they could even open
their mouths. When he got to Galadon, he started doing the same. However, the
Galadonian guard proved more than the druid, even driven by blinding rage,
could handle. On the battlements they beat him senseless and threw him off of
the top of one of the towers, into the forest, for the vultures to finish.

However, the vultures did not finish him. Through prayer, meditation, and
sheer desire for blood, Niicrolius nursed his wounds and regained his health.
He pulled himself over to a small puddle in the Feanwyyn Weald and whispered
to his own reflection...

I see what the old mage meant. My power comes from my anger and I will learn
to control it without burying it. Jasthraen and the Ancients...I come to you
as your vessel. You shall awaken and we shall destroy civilization. The
cities, the guards, the law...all an unnatural plague that will be ended.

Role

Chapter 4

Niicrolius wandered south after the bloodbath he dealt to the pack of
duergars. The memories of the blood and the screams seemed foreign to him. He
found the druid guild, as he was instructed, but he made no mention of the
anger or the mark of Jasthraen he had seen on the dying shapeshifter.
Memories of his own rage still scared him. The old druid assumed he was just
like any young priest, and took him in and allowed him to study with the
other novices.

Niicrolius wandered south after the bloodbath he dealt to the pack of
duergars. The memories of the blood and the screams seemed foreign to him. He
found the druid guild, as he was instructed, but he made no mention of the
anger or the mark of Jasthraen he had seen on the dying shapeshifter.
Memories of his own rage still scared him. The old druid assumed he was just
like any young priest, and took him in and allowed him to study with the
other novices.

One day, he was on his way to the Loch Grynmear to visit the temple, he met a
beautiful young woman on the silverpine road. Trained as a ranger, Mannia
lived by herself in the near-by woods and lived off the land. They soon fell
in love and Niicrolius found himself visiting there often and considering
marriage.

One day, while rounding the bend just outside of the Shining City, he was
surprised to see a Galadonian guard this far from Galadon. Suddenly three
more Galadonian guards ran past him on the road, running towards the original
guard. Niicrolius paused and listened. The first guard turned to the others
and said, "No, it was a false report. It wasnt the battle rager that's been
giving us so many problems. Fall back and lets continue our search along
the Eastern Road."

(CHAPTER CONTINUED...)

Role

Chapter 3

Niicrolius's life had found a pleasant routine. Now a young man, he had
excelled in school and was now better read than his school teacher (who,
quite frankly, wasn't a very impressive teacher). He took long walks in the
forest, often staying gone for days. Nature was where he felt the most at
peace, especially during long thunder storms. He rarely saw "crazy" Lanttial,
his teacher's husband, however he was often accompanied by a hawk on his
walks. The hawk had become the young man's only friend.

Walking with the stealth of his wicked father's people, Niicrolius came back
from one of his walks just in time to hear his teacher and Lanttial talking.
"Hes learned everything I can teach him and more! Why do you insist he stays
around? Hes not right. He's got no feelings," barked the old woman.

Lanttial retorted, "You're wrong. He's the calm before a storm...a powerful,
powerful storm. He's this close to exploding. It was no mistake he was born
under the sign of Anger, and no mistake he was brought to me. He just needs
one little push."

Seeing Niicrolius there, the couple looked down, embarrassed, and mumbled
excuses before hurrying off.

A fortnight later, Niicrolius was walking by his favorite stream towards a
peaceful meadow. He hear the familiar call of his hawk friend and looked up.
Suddenly, a flaming arrow pierced the evening sky and struck the hawks
breast. A piercing noise, foreign to Niicrolius, filled the air around him
for many moments before he realized it was his own screaming. Fire and smoke
surrounded him, as a drunken war party of duergars burned the underbrush on
their way to Volarian to attack merchants. They saw Niicrolius screaming in
the middle of the field and grinned...what an easy little target to start
their violence with.

Suddenly, Niicrolius jumped on the nearest duergar and gauged out both his
eyes as they both fell to the ground. What followed was a flurry of movement
as blood splattered on the grass. Niicrolius murdered them all, with his bare
hands, in a fit of passion.

When it was over and he stood, covered in blood, peering through the smoke,
he noticed that it was not a hawk with an arrow in his breast, but Lanttial.
He walked over to the old man, confused. "What is the meaning of this?
whispered Niicrolius, still in disbelief and shaking from his outburst.

"I'm a shapeshifter, boy. I needed you to feel the anger. I needed you to
embrace it. You've absorbed so much for so long...but you have no idea what
you're capable of. The ones before, you are right, were not worthy of your
anger...but tehre are those that are. You need to embrace it and fight for
us. Find the druid 5 days south of here, that bears this mark..." Lanttial
whispered as blood dripped from his lips and pointed to the faded mark of
Jasthrean on his arm.

Role

Chapter 2

Andrilus took another swig of whiskey from the jug, coughed, and spit at the
young Niicrolius. "You're just a drowish bastard child! You stole her from
me. You're a curse on me and my lands. Clean up this mess before that bitch
comes home." A heavy hand came down across Niicrolius's ear and he was sent
sprawling forward. The beatings were nothing new to the young boy.

Edith came in and looked at them both, signed, and reached for Niicrolius's
hand. The boy returned her gaze with seemingly no emotion. "Come, Ive
arranged for you to go to school."

"School?!!?" barked Andrilus. "What kind of school wants some scrawny
half-breed?"

Niicrolius and his mother walked into a dirty cabin. An old woman fluttered
towards them greeting them. Three other humans, dressed poorly, in the corner
with books on their laps. Edith whispered to her son nervously, "I knowthis
is the wife of crazy old Lanttial, but she can read and shes agreed to teach
you."

The old woman looked down at the boy and then to Edith. "When was he
born?...Oh right, you told me. Born under the sign of anger. Well...he
certainly doesn't seem to have any." The old woman poked Niicrolius harshly
in the belly, but evoked no emotion from the child.

"He's always been like this. Never fussing, rarely talking. He won't cause
you any problems. Heres his board for the next 6 months," she explained
while handing the older woman a small pouch of silver coins.

"It's fine. He can stay. My husband said to take him, even if you couldn't
afford the board...but since you can, we'll keep this too," said the woman
and tucked the pouch into her blouse.

Role

Chapter 1

"Come in out of the rain, right now!" shouted Edith in a playful tone at her
husband. The two humans were newly married and her father had given them a
nice piece of land near the Voralian River. Andrilus, her husband, ran
towards her and gathered her in his arms. A trouble expression came over his
face.

"Oh...I think I forgot to close the barn door," he sighed.

Edith smiled. "It's fine. You stay here and warm yourself by the fire. I'll
run out and get it."

Latching the barn door, Edith smiled to herself and turned to return to the
house and her husband. A figure moved out from behind a lone tree and stood
in her path. Startled, she jumped back and then regained her composure. "I
didn't see you there. Would you like to step into our cottage and have a spot
of warm tea?" she asked.

"No, I'll take what I want right here..." hissed a dark-elf voice. He threw
off his hood and Edith could see the marks of the Imperial priesthood. "Lord
Enlilth has blessed me this day..." The dark-elf, moving faster than the eye
could follow, ripped off Ediths dress and pushed her to the ground all in
one motion.

Immortal Comments

PK Gank-O-Meter

PK Statistics

Skill List

Title History

PK Wins

PK Deaths

Leveling History

Timeline

Mob Deaths

Edges

Flaws

Racial Edges

Class Edges

Edges