Zarkyem the Legend of the Battlefield, Mason of the Paragon

Role

Chapter 8

Zarkyem second desire in life behind his duties as a villager
is to become a master Stone Mason under the tutelage of Ysaloerye.
He has been tasked to carve his first piece of work to stand forever in the cavern
of her shrine much as the legend of his exploits should be told for all time
within the village.

Role

Chapter 7

It has been over 100 years since the day Zarkyem was exiled.
Litte did he knows that the two words he uttered on a raft
would define his entire life. Reaching the mainland of Thera
Zarkyem's rage and hate for magicians continued to grow and compound itself.
He would soon find himself living in a hut with a group of
brothers who held true to his core beliefs that any who used
magic should be killed and shown no mercy.

Zarkyem has spent many years as a berserker of the village.
He has seen many rise only to be crushed under the tides of War.
The most recent to have their spirit broken was Tiahelle.
Tia cat as Zarkyem would have called her. Zarkyem thought
very little of her for she often spoke or courage and pride,
yet Zarkyem saw little of it from her. Believing her to have
been a coward, he see's her fall as as a blessing for the village.
A time for a true student of warfare to rise. One who has
stared into the face of the enemy and laughed at their attempts
to break him. Zarkyem fully intends to prove himself the strongest of
the Village and emerge from the rites as Commander.

Title History

Role

Chapter 6

The trial was short, and Zarkyem was barely aware of the judgment passed upon him. Only the relentless
sneer plastered across Tohr Nacktin-Rahs face evoked any emotion. Zarkyem forced his attention away
from that sneer long enough to hear his adjudicator inform him that his options were death or exile. He
didnt care. He returned his gaze to his former idol, and felt an unimaginable rage begin to overtake his
awareness. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he managed to utter a single intelligible word before
turning back to the dark-knight and launching himself at him with every fiber of his being.

He awoke to a steady throb in his temples. Reaching up, he gouged at his eyes with bruised knuckles to
clear away crusted blood, and immediately regretted his decision as fierce rays of sunlight seemed to
penetrate his thick skull in crashing waves of agony. Despite his immense discomfort, he manage to force
himself into a sitting position. He became aware of his predicament as his eyes came into focus and
coalesced on the small raft upon which he floated. The cries of gulls shattered the air above him, coalescing
into shrieking spears piercing his skull in tandem with the bright light. Swearing an oath, one that would he
would repeat for weeks on end before he returned to solid ground, Zarkyem began a mantra that would echo
throughout his soul. Death to magi.

Role

Chapter 5

Zarkyem was not particularly bright, even among his slow-witted kin. Even so, he could have born this
failure as a learning experience had he not seen his idol trying to control himself against bouts of
uncontrollable laughter. His nigrescent skin hid the flush that crept from his toes to the top of his head, and
so caught up were his kin in their displays for contempt and derision, they failed to note the look of shame
etched upon Zarkyems visage begin to transform. His massive fists began to reflexively clench and
unclench, evidence of the tumultuous storm raging within him as shame transformed into fervid rage.

Seeing Kurix surrounded by his own group of sycophantic lackeys, continuing to point and laugh as they
clapped one another on the back in congratulations for their success, Zarkyem took a step in their direction.
And another. As he reached his kinsman, a red veil fell across his vision, eradicating his perception of his
surrounding but for a tiny pinhole that revealed his gargantuan hands, seemingly miniaturized at the end of
tunnel, clasped about the pin sized neck of the being before him.

As the veil cleared, Zarkyem was shocked to see the honor guard of Nacktin-Rah surrounding him, weapons
drawn. Glancing around in bewilderment, wondering what had transpired, he glanced down and dimly
noted the three corpses at his feet, their unidentifiable countenances disfigured by grotesque bruising and
pulverized flesh. As his surge of adrenaline began to fade, pain began to flash lightning quick bolts of pain
from a multitude of places about his face, chest, arms and back. Grunting with fatigue, he dropped to his
knees in resignation as the guard step forward to take him into custody.

Role

Chapter 4

During meal one afternoon, Kurix, a particularly wily and deceptive giant took a seat beside Zarkyem,
placing an arm about his shoulders in a gesture of camaraderie. Lowering his head so as not to be heard, he
spoke in whispered tones, Zarkyem, your power grows with each passing day. Soon you will emerge from
Kiadana to take on the world!

Initially wary of his clansmans approach, Zarkyems eyes lit up at the unexpected praise. Kurix,
continuing to speak, suggested, Perhaps it is time that you revealed your tremendous prowess to the rest of
the Clan. They will see how powerful you have grown, and all will know that you will become the greatest
caster to ever emerge from our clan!

Zarkyem, convinced he was bound for greatness, agreed to Kurixs plan and hastily retreated to his training
cave to begin preparations. So caught up in delusions of grandeur, and the inevitable camaraderie with his
idol Tohr, it never occurred to him that hed never cast so much as a single cantrip and had never actually
studied in the ways of the arcane.

Kurix scheduled Zarkyems display of power for dusk, at the peak of their volcano home, assuring the
elders that it may prove necessary, given his relative youth and inexperience in wielding magics. Hed
taken the time to beg Tohr Nacktin-Rah to grace the event with his presence, believing that his presence
would evoke sycophantic remonstrations from Zarkyem when he failed.

As the witched hour approached, Zarkyem bound forward, planting himself firmly on his face as he
stumbled over the ridiculously oversize cloak that adorned his shoulders. His appearance brought tears of
laughter to the eyes of the normally irritable and unstable fire giants. Oblivious to their disdain, and the
looks of scorn from his elders, Zarkyem began to utter nonsensical words, waving his hands about in a
crude reiteration of the gestures hed seen made by his idol.


With a final iteration of (presumably) the spell he had in mind, Zarkyem turned to a straw-stuffed dummy
and shot both hands forward, palms facing the target. A deafening silence fell upon the crowd gathered at
the top of the mount. Slowly, a scratching noise began to emanate from a multitude of points in the crowd,
growing quickly into a cacophony of unbridled laughter as giants fell about themselves, pointing in abject
ridcule.

Role

Chapter 3

Zarkyem began his studies in a cave, alone. His imagination, untamed and uncontrolled, lead him to believe
that he could accomplish mastery of the anti-Paladin ways through dedication and self-education. He
concocted battles in his mind and fought imaginary hordes of storm giants, elves and dwarves with dull,
rusted blades and handfuls of volcanic pummice he minced into dust to illustrate his magical prowess.

Day in and day out, he fought these battles, tossing handfuls of crushed rock into the air as he swung he
blades, parrying and thrusting against unseen foe. Before long, Zarkyem's kin began to gather to watch,
unbeknownst to him. It became a daily routine for members of his clan to gather and watch, struggling to
stifle their laughter as their oversized kin labored about fighting his faux battles against the hordes of vile
lightwalkers who would seek to invade his volcanic home. He was unaware of the incredible lengths his
clan mates went to in order to refrain from revealing the pathetic nature of their perception of him.

Role

Chapter 2

Zarkyem pressed against the crowd of giants gathered before him, straining to catch a look at the procession
passing by. Using his strength and girth, having developed into a monstrosity early in his adolescence, he
muscled his way to the front of the unruly crowd that had gathered at the lip of the lava pit. Seeing his idol,
Tohr Nacktin-Rah, a look of pure delight etched itself across his ebony visage. His body tensed with
exciement as he watched his hero approach the rock ledge where a young storm giant lay bound and
gagged.

Drawing forth a wicked battleaxe, Tohr Nacktin-Rah proclaimed a few words that reached Zarkyem's ears
like the hum of a beehive, an indecipherable buzz unable to penetrate the rush of blood pumping through his
head in anticipation. Zarkyem was barely aware that he had left the crowd behind in an attempt to edge
even closer to the events unfolding at the lip of the volcano.

Tohr turned to face the crowd, his dark eyes alight with hatred and his back rigid with pride. He glanced
towards Zarkyem, making eye contact with him and offered a wicked grin. Turning back to the giant at his
feet, he uttered a few arcane words. A look of despair and hopelessness filled the storm giant's young face.
He had little time to suffer as the dark knight raised the battleaxe over his head, shouted a few more words
in the arcane, and brought the blade crashing down into the storm's skull, cleaving nearly through his torso
on the follow-through.

A gasp of ecstacy escaped Zarkyem, followed by uncontrollable and unintelligble shouts and screams of
delight. He danced around, oblivious to the looks of his kin as he celebrated the glory of his idol. As the
crowd dispersed, Zarkyem struggled to catch up with Tohr, but was rebuffed by the dark-knight's entourage.
Disappointed, though not entirely put-off, Zarkyem vowed there and then to become a great dark-knight and
earn the respect and friendship of his idol, whom he worshipped above all else.

Role

Chapter 1

Sharp, searing pain burst inside his head, white flashes of light danced across Zarkyem's vision. Glancing
down at his feet, he watched as a sharp rock tumbled to a rest not far from where he stood. He heard
malicious sniggers and turned to glare at the adolescent kinsmen, his peers, pointing and jeering in his
direction. He wiped away blood that began to trickle into his eye from the cut above his brow, snarling at
them. Drawing himself to his full, massive height, he turned chase them down to find they'd already
disappeared into the caves and tunnels that pocked the volcanic terrain that was their home. Sighing
wistfully, he returned to the book sitting upon a rock wall. Once more, he began turning the pages of
indecipherable text, imagining that one day, these words would bring them all to their knees before him.
Some day.

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