Ragloghlin the Herald of War

Role

Chapter 4

My life has been as a festering wound, silently building its bilious humours
until the day it bursts forth to spill its poisons into the bloodstream of
Thera. Elf and dwarf, drow and duergar; nearly all bloodlines have felt
my bite, and the soulless shells of the nameless dead have done little to
sate my appetite.

I enjoy my freedom, but I desire power. The Empire has invited me on
several occasions to bolster their ranks, but the promises of power
echo like an empty cavern of my mother's homeland. Scarabaeus has not
revealed himself to me, but only names whispered in fear are loud
enough to reach the ears of the dark lords such as he. The Scions of
the Eternal Night are a third road to quicker power, but unlike
Alannah, their leader has not asked me to join them. Thus I remain
unattached to any ideology or cause but my own climb to power, a
recluse among the din in Galadon.

Prior to my emancipation, I had thought of myself as impetuous, even
brash, but thus far I've avoided traps set by squires and maran,
avoided the temptations offered by treacherous necromancers, dodged
assassinations and have lost weapons only to Davarrah and the accursed
crimson fire of the gods, but at the present rate I will not attain
any controls until I reach my dotage. I need allies, for now, but the
few I have had are now embroiled in their own politics or found their
final resting places in ignominy or obscurity. I must forge a few alliances.

Role

Chapter 3

Before I examine poisons in greater detail, allow me a moment
to make the distinction between poisons and venom. Venoms,
those natural concoctions found in various creatures throughout
this world, can be distinguished from poisons in their need
to enter the bloodstream in order to harm you. You may discharge
the venom from a pit viper or cobra onto the unbroken skin of
your arm and see no ill effects. In some remote regions, I hear
it is a delicacy to put the venom sacs of various snakes into
the indigenous alcoholic drinks. This may explain why humans
are hirsute and so inexplicably stupid, but in truth if they are
healthy, they are at no overwhelming risk.

Poisons, however, are toxins capable of doing harm without ever
the need to break through the skin. Their mere presence, given enough
time, allows them to pass into the victim and ply their craft in
their beautiful and individual manners. They may cause vomiting,
diarrhea, hemorraging, pallor or flushed features. The heart can
slow or speed up before stopping, muscles may languish or spasm,
vision may become brighter, dimmer, blurred or filled with
hallucinations. The victim may feel pain or they may simply drift
away to the next realm as tranquilly as if they were taking to
their bedchambers. The beauty of poisons is undeniable.

I have acquired a small collection of poisonous ingredients, but of
late I have been experimenting with various poisons of the spirit.
Insidious despair creeps into the souls of the weak-willed like damp
fog over a moor. Fear saps strength and clouds the mind, and doubt
casts a pall over every thought and attaints every resulting action.
Poisons of the spirit are slow to work, but they may be applied over
vast distances and through the ages, wearing away at the resolve of
man until they are little more than an empty husk.

I will speak of my findings soon.

Role

Chapter 2

If you have ever known anything about collectors, it is they will
pursue great lengths to acquire the objects of their obsession.
Such adventures are rigorous, however, so I have been building a small
amount of savings through odd jobs that might also strengthen my body
and mind, such as killing vermin of the cities and forests for pay.
It requires a great deal of will to see through the tedium of such
mundane tasks, but I noted that the merchants who pay for these jobs
to be done do not carry the coins upon them: there is no quick way
toward wealth nor to the skills I need to acquire my little delights.

During one of my forays into Hamsah Mu'Tazz I met Kirumen, an elementalist
who wears the trappings of a lesser priest. He did something no one
else has done since I earned my freedom: he acknowledged my presence.
I will make his acquaintance and learn something of his god.

Role

Chapter 1

It is said that in the year before I was born, my mother went to
the priestess and paid for a foretelling. It is said, too, that
when the priestess slit open the lizard and let the entrails flow
into the dish, she scowled harshly at them a long while before
telling my mother it would be best to root me out with a twig or to
drink a strong tincture of hyssop or cavern-blight.

My mother was allowed past the patrols and crawled up a chute to stare
into the cruel unblinking eye that is the sun, all in the name of
finding the minty herb with which she might end my life. But if
her boy-child was cursed, she was a weak-willed failure, and instead of
ending my life she made me a pillow stuffed with hyssop, juniper,
and pennyroyal. This pillow and an anonymous letter are all I have from
her. Incidentally, poisons have become something of a hobby of mine.

Unable to bear the shame of raising me, she sold me to slaver destined
for Udgaard, and my first memories were of the kind lashes of my master,
an antipaladin who was at one time the guildmaster of that city. It
was he who taught me the truth that is strength, the value of freedom,
and the beauty found in looking upon the pallid corpse of your master,
an empty teacup on the floor beside him. He gave me this human name,
the tutelage of the whip, and enough bread to prolong my existence,
and now I have killed him for his kindness.

I am homeless, masterless, and a hapless male of a hated race, but these
will serve as the catalyst with which I may thwart the dark destiny that
loomed over my mother's pregnancy.

I hope to one day find her, that I may hold her in my arms and show her
what I have become. I wish to see her eyes well with tears and pride.

And then I will brew her some tea.

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