Arratok the Disfigured Warmonger

Role

Chapter 32

As you turn the pages of the battered journal, you come across another passage.


And so marks another month, or was it two? Time blends on hours into days
into weeks into months. Some things change, but mostly it is all the same. I
cannot count the faces any longer, the scars, the skulls. They rise, they
fall, friend and foe alike. I have seen to many generations pass through our
village, to many foes rise to fill the gaps I create with my swords. I see
doubt in the face of the weak, of the young, and the foolish. Wondering if
it's a fools errand, if its all for naught... Is it? Few of us... too few know
the truth.


I feel myself getting thin. Time sprawls out for what seems like eternity,
and fate keeps the path before me sprawling out on and on. She is a fickle
bitch, a lesson learned but never completed, a cruel joke at times, but she
is my only mistress. The aches I feel, the pains within me grow, but is not
what I expected. I feel strength within my core, my soul presses forward and
my grip is still strong. I must find a way to bring out this inner strength.
I must find a way to revitalize my soul. I must keep down the path she puts
before me... I cannot fail. I will not fail.

Role

Chapter 23

It has been a while since the rites have passed, and Arratok was named
commander. He took long time companion Gredoor as his Drillmaster which was
a position deserved both in skill of war, and in dedication to the cause. His
choice was shorter lived however then he would have thought. Gredoor like
Cain passed before his time was due. Fate has a funny way of playing games
with the lives of mortals. Often in our most secure hours she will wreak
havoc on all that can be relied on. On the edge of a new war front, in a
time where one must be able to rely on their companions, Arratok was again
dealt a wound that would be hard to overcome. Gia would now be the only
pillar left from his days now too long to count. The Grey Shade was a veteran
of war, but could Arratok learn to rely on another after so many crushing
losses? Fates path is one we cannot avoid, and so Arratok must walk down it,
to whatever ends it may bring.

Role

Chapter 24

A tattered book with blood stained pages and marred corners is here. A
journal of some sort battered and beaten from travel and decay.The pages
hold crude maps marking lands both known and unknown. Pages a spotted with
crude drawings of beasts, and weapons, of armor and of trinkets, there is
some pages with writing exercises for letters and words slowly and sloppily
copied over and over.
It seems Arratok is learning to write, and keeping a journal.

There is a passage here that is more legible then the others, if only a small
clump of text:

They have taken our head. An they hav an bominations trying to becomes one
ah walking ded.
We can not allow such thins like tha. We must bring war. There is no other
chose bud to stop tem.
Kurbrawn will fall four dis.

Role

Chapter 25

Skipping farther ahead past more crude artwork and several pages stuck
together from what appears to be bloodstains you come across another bit that
is clear:

"I has talked to Grime nah again. Still wetting four what eh needs to build
it.
I think we can do it. Just need ter push em harder and get him in gear.
All of village can help we just need two know how and what Grimes need.
I gave em samples an I hope dat will halp him for nah."

There is more here but it looks to be blotted out by water or rain fall the
letters running down into an illegible swirl.

Role

Chapter 26

Skipping ahead more you cross over more steady practice of penmanship. Seems
the lessons are getting tougher and practice is getting more regimented.
There are sections of more maps marked over and over with strange runes
shapes copied, and there are bits of passage you can read:

"The guildmaster say I still have a lot to learn. I think I am doing reel good.
I not ever been much fer writing but now I thining its part of Fates path.
I need two bee sure I can get word out when needed. An messengers I been using

Are not so good to trust."

"So many keep falling it is always her test. She mocks me with the sting of
poison, some day I wonder why do they all die and not me. This is my only path and I
will walk it."

Role

Chapter 27

Passing along through more pages you can tell the development of the pen
strokes has again increased.
There are lots of notes about enemies and fighting styles, forms that magi
can take, and other trivial observations and scattered thoughts. Something
however catches your eye:

"The one known as the Enlilth has taken notice of the war. This day much
blood has been shed.
The front is ever changing but I do not believe that the imperials have what
it takes to keep this up.
Our kin are overwhelmed in numbers but as Fate has told we rise stronger and
harder from the trials we face. Mockingly the Enlilth speaks to me as if I
fear death or failure. I cannot, for there is no room for such idle thoughts
when I know the truth. As I rise again and fall their great Emperor the
Enlilth has changed its stance on my path. Words like honey pour forth but I
can smell the concealed poison. They seek to have an abomination rise and I
cannot allow that to transpire. Enlilth offers me the power that no one can
wield. Why? What new devilry is this? Why is the dark power offering me
anything? It is a test of Fate, a trick the one has sprung? I will not fall
for such empty promises. Enlilth sees in me something no other has been able
to pierce, but I will not be swayed with soft words and high promises.
I am Reborn, and Fate is my only master now. If the dark Enlilth has plans
for me then I trust in my path, Fate will always find a way."

Role

Chapter 28

Another passage is written here:

"My scouts have found some information.Old feelings stir and I cannot help
but dream of what came before the deep cold. I know that I have been reborn,
I know that I must walk a clear path, but what other than fate could have put
such information into my ears? If the scouts are wrong, like they were about
the Scion tunnels, then I will have to do something. If I cannot trust the
eyes and ears of my men then they are no good to me. I must do this anyway,
I must find out for myself. The village will be clear with Gia in charge,
and I should not have to be gone long. I know that place, and the fire of
vengeance still burns hot. I must finish this, and then I can finally put to
rest who I was. What I had let become of them. With this revenge I am free
from all that held me back, and I can progress forward forever to what I am
meant to become. I will do this, and I will never look back again. This is
the final string to cut."

Role

Chapter 29

These pages are soaked in blood, drops pool and form around the words making
it difficult to read even though the handwriting is well scripted:

"They are all dead... every last one..."
The penmanship here shakes a little as if the writer was extremely fatigued
or extremely angry.
"It is over. Now there is only one direction for me to go. Up. I will rise
forever until nothing is left in my way"


Arratoks scouts were correct and he was able to find the location of the
Magi who had tortured his past. The power of the magi had grown
exponentially. They had tapped into some dark arts awaking alternative paths
into further uncontrollable power. Obsessed with fire, they pushed the
boundaries of their art drawing forth unimaginable power.

The battle was nothing short of a storm. Blood, fire, and hatred raged in all
directions like a tempest. The Grand High Pyromancer, who had so long ago
burned his sister alive, had since unlocked the deep secrets of the black
arts able to invoke magma scalding with such heat not even his own pupils
were safe from the onslaught. Arratok was able to evade some while pulling
lessor magi into the main stream of blackmagma. Locked in close combat with
the Grand Magi Arratok was unable to fully avoid the assault. The Flesh
running from his lower lip on the left side of his face, neck, chest and
shoulder was seared into scarred twisted mess. In a blur of death and hate he
flurried left and right leaving no place for retreat. The very foundations
of their order were cracked and shaken, raining boulders down upon any magi
who were lucky enough to evade his unyielding blows. Blood showered from the
open mouth of the High Pyromancer as Arratok struck a telling blow burying
his sword to the hilt into the chest of his powerful foe. Fire chased up the
cracked and tumbling pillars and blood boiled upon the stone floor as if he
was standing in a deep circle of hell.

Role

Chapter 30

From the deepest cold, to the hottest hell, Arratoks continues down a
torturous path, that only Fate can lead him down.

Arratok was able to staunch his wounds crudely in the tumbled ruins of the
underdark, however due to the lack of knowledge and available resources the
wound had never correctly healed. As a result of this he now has "Old Wound"
and "Repulsive" flaws because of his burned flesh and cracked/bleeding scar
on his neck and shoulder.

Also, he was able to decipher prior to his assault, that the magi had cursed
him. When he first fled and the patrols had not turned up his body the magi
called upon others in the Drow community. They had pooled their collective
abilities and damned his soul as retribution for the loss he caused. So long
ago he had fled, and so much suffering along the way, he is plagued by this
"Ancestral Curse". Now even in their death, they will haunt him. Arratoks
Fate is unyielding however and he will forever struggle down the path no
matter what it takes.

Please grant Arratok the following flaws: Old Wound, Repulsive, and Ancestral
Curse

Role

Chapter 31

Several more passages spill out among the blood stained pages of a tattered war journal.

As was the pattern with the latter half of the scriptures the diction and
grammatical errors are becoming less obvious if at all apparent. The letters
are precise, even and symmetrical. Like any art, time and dedication has
increased the artisans skills in a way that shows growth in practice.


Puck'n Pitchers,
Puck's still on about his inn. It puts a smile on his face, and that's a rare
thing now days round here.
Not much to laugh about with the wars that teem on all sides of our village.
Maybe one day he will get to rest, I don't have the heart to tell him it will
likely be for good. If truth be told he knows it as well as I do, I won't
take it from him, even if it is only in jest. The end of this war, the
culmination of our efforts, as a village, is still not near at hand. I am
glad that he has risen to the call all the same, I couldn't ask for a harder
veteran to drill these sodding gits.


Crimson Tides,
Blood flows like rivers, our grounds are soaked with it, our kin are soaked
in it, down to our souls. Fate has put nothing but war before us, and so we
shall wade in head first and leave suffering in our wake. Some blame me, as
if their assertion matters, still many dont understand the way it is, the
way it must be. Warmonger, Barbaric Madman, Savage Murderer, the words mean
nothing to me. I see it in the newer youth, and smell it on those that have
seen my work. There is a cold lingering heavy and hard, an aura that seems to
give goose bumps to even my own kin as I pass by. Such is the path she set
before me, and so it is the path I continue down, knee deep in blood if I
must.

Role

Chapter 20

It has been a long while since Arratok has joined the village. He has seen
the passing of one commander and has seen many brothers rise and fall in the
huts. The village however is weak, in the eyes of Arratok, for several
reasons. The rites of war were a bitter and bloody event, Arratok took part
knowing full well that others had underestimated him. Too many in the village
are lax in their training, too may in the village rely on well-made garments,
too many of the village rely on other than themselves. This is something that
must be changed.

Arratok could not be more pleased with the outcome of the rites. He could not
have chosen a better, more skilled set of Battleragers to compete in the test
of wits, and he is proud to be among them. It was clear that the weakness
that gnawed at the village is starting to ebb, that half-willed and weak of
heart have faded, and now there is one goal. Rebuild the village, with those
who are dedicated to the war on the magi. He and the commander are of like
mind, and there is a trust between them that is unspoken but strong. So
different in walk of life, yet one goal, they have a keen understanding of
what must be done.

It will not be a short and easy road. But when has Arratoks life ever been
short or easy? Its dedication to the cause, and focus that is all that
matters. The village will be reborn, as was Arratok, stronger than ever and
with a clear path, carved from the gristle and blood of wicked.

Role

Chapter 11

The Storm giants shoulder nearly went right through him. The force of the
bash lifting him clear off his feet, and sending him sailing through the air.
As if in slow motion he watched the ceiling and floor of the clearing blur
spinning through the air weightlessly the pain didnt even register in his
nutrient starved brain. He clattered into the wall and rolled down into a
slumped fetal position. The flying beast was swooping down on him glimmering
spear thrust out like a crossbow bolt loosened from the heavens. Instinct
kicked in at the last moment he rolled right, the spear blade planting deeply
into the ground with a heavy thud. Arratok was on his feet again, dizzy and
staggering. The pain was now sinking in, a dull throb growing in intensity by
the second. The bizarre Drow leapt forward like an acrobat tucking and
rolling in midair thrusting out a dagger with perfect precision. The sound of
tearing cloth alerted Arri that something was amiss. Slowly he looked down at
the stretch of fabric flapping about his leg, his tunic was turning a deep
crimson at an alarming rate. He tried to step forward and his leg simply
failed to function. Crumbling to the ground he rolled to his side wailing in
pain. "Duergar Filth!" spit the large one as he came crashing down with a
hammer directly upon Arratoks other leg. The sound, a wet dull crunch of
bone and flesh, was followed by a delirious impulse to laugh. He couldnt
feel anything at all. He sat straight up looking at the twisted carnage that
was his lower body. There was no way this was real, there was no way things
could get any worse. He was howling in laughter, mad with pain and anguish
and loss. The flying demon approached him again this time burying its spear
into his chest. A wave of cold shot through his very core as he was pinned to
the ground stuck through clean. The three bowed their heads together speaking
some sort of prayer or offering to a thing called Shokai. The winged death
wretched free the spear and a gout of blood sprayed from his wound. "One less
darkfiend in the world" spoke the reverse Drow softly. "Check him for
anything useful." Clicked the beaked beast. "Hes got nuttin." Said the blue
mass as it lifted him off the ground like he was a doll. The world exploded
into white light around him as they stepped out into the rivers edge. I must
be dead Arratok thought as his eyes closed, then weightless again he felt
himself falling. The roar of the rushing water was suddenly louder and
louder, he could feel the mist upon his skin, and as he struck the water
below the falls, the cold encased his very being. It was over, this hell of a
life was over, everything went from dark blue to black, as a freezing,
crushing cold, filled him. His wounds ceased to hurt, his head grew light and
lazy, and everything became completely silent. Arratok was dead.

Role

Chapter 12

The world expands in all directions, or perhaps it doesnt, its impossible
to tell. There is a crushing haunting feeling in this black expanse, and the
silence is eerie. Something inside you compels you to continue forward. Each
step requires a strange amount of effort, like struggling in quicksand, the
murky abyss of nothingness swallows your movement and you wonder if you are
walking in place or actually getting anywhere at all. While so much is
unclear, one thing is crystal, the cold. It has cut right through you,
completely soaking you to the very core and devouring feeling like an
insatiable beast. If you could see anything, you would most certainly be able
to see your breath, crystals of frozen moisture spilling out with each
exhale, wafting forward in plumes of frost. In the sickening silence however
you quickly realized a disturbing fact. You were not breathing at all.
Constricting spasms rake across your chest and your eyes go wide.
Instinctively you become a fish out of water, your mouth parting in sweeping
gulps and closing desperately, but there is no relief. Bulging eyes and
flailing arms, what is this hell you suffer.
As the devils hands squeezed tighter around your throat flashes of your past
swirl before your eyes. Gemmas smile, the thick air of the tunnels, Bogrok
the betrayer, laughter from Gem, your fathers boot heels in your gut, the
smell of fire, the flash of heat, the screams, the terrible screams. Dropping
to your knees the flashes violently stream through your mind like a horrific
picture show. You throw your head back and howl one last furious bellow of
anguish, but not a sound comes out...

Suddenly there is a booming grumble within your mind. A gruff growling voice
that seems to tug at your very existence, words ringing loud and clear with a
baritone hum that vibrates your sternum.

Role

Chapter 13

"THIS ALL YOU GOT?"
"THIS ALL YOU FARGING GOT YOU PATHETIC SHLUB?"
"GET UP YOU USELESS GIT!!"
"GET THE FARG UP RIGHT NOW, OR ILL BE DAMNED SHOVIN MY BOOT UP YER ARSE!"

Your head swinging on a pivot, you can still see nothing in any direction,
you can hear nothing but the voice, feel nothing but its waves cresting
throughout your body. Suddenly from the center of your heart, like a match
being struck a sudden spark of heat, a sudden burning.

"FEEL THAT?"
"YOU FARGIN FEEL IT?"
"USE IT."
"DAMN IT BOY USE IT..."
"EMBRACE IT."
"LET IT FUEL YOUR STRENGTH"
"LET IT SHAPE YOUR DESTINY"

Role

Chapter 14

The burning in your core seems to explode through your body striking the tips
of your limbs and bouncing back arching every nerve, standing every hair on
end. The heat is intense, and scorching, but you do not feel threatened. The
sting feels good, your flesh is not burning away, just your weaknesses, your
past, your failures, and everything is burning off like the molted skin of a
snake, shedding into ash in a wake behind you. Suddenly you feel weightless,
torn off your knees and into the air. There is a tight hold about your
shoulders, the fires rage on inside you. All at once it stops, and a sharp
pain spreads across your jaw. Everything is still black, but something is
different. Muddled sounds pour into your ears, like a levy breaking an
onslaught of noises pouring in and rattling around in your empty skull.
"SLAP!" another rocket of pain erupts on the opposite side of your face, your
eyes shoot open and wide with the force of it. The claws of the sun dig into
your pupils searing your optic nerves and forcing your tear ducts to unload
gushes of sweet release. Blinking away from the blinding light tears flowing
you turn your head suddenly as a flow of salty icewater bellows from your
nose and mouth. Coughing and hacking you feel a hand on your shoulder giving
you a rough pat. "Thats it lad, thats it... get it out now." A plethora of
mixed faces, races from all over Thera, and of every social status crowd in.
The city guard eases you up to a sitting position, turns back to the people
of Galadon, and with a hand up ensures them. "Move along, move along, theres
nothing to see here now, go on, keep it moving." You come to the strange
realization that you are in fact alive. How did you get here and, but your
thoughts are cut short when you see your slashed open and broken leg sprawled
out in front of you. You pull your shirt open and you know from the look on
the city guards face that you might not have escaped death just yet. "Hang on
fella, we are guna get you patched up." He says as he lifts you up and
carries you towards the nearest temple...

Role

Chapter 15

It was a few days before Arratok was recovered enough to thank his savior.
The city guard, Narcima was a cloud giant who had come to Galadon after a
civil war in his city left most of it destroyed. A warrior by trade and young
strong law abiding man it made sense for him to travel to the forefront of
city life and put his skills to use. Arratok kept his story to himself, and
told Narcima he had no recollection of anything prior to being hauled from
the doors of death on river road. It was easier he told himself, to keep what
he knew and what he felt to himself for now. I once was weak, but now I have
been reborn. I will never be weak again. I must learn to fight he pleaded
with Narcima, with skill and technique of a true warrior, please, you must
help me. Narcima had grown to a place of some respect among his guild, but he
was still unsure of this anomaly that survived what seemed to be unavoidable
death. He pulled some strings however to get him an entry level job, sweeping
broken glass and teeth from the bar at the warriors guild. Narcima had hoped
that he would be content with a steady life and a bed to sleep in, but
somehow knew there was more than just a mundane life out there for Arratok.

Role

Chapter 16

Arratok took every shift that was offered, he took shifts to cover for others
when they were too lazy or too hung over to show up. He hung around on days
he wasnt scheduled to work just to have a chance to observe. Fascinated by
the art, technique, the ability of the elders in the guild he was dedicated
to learning, even if he wasnt a true member of the guild. He would complete
his work early and simply stare. Or pretend to be working on something else
while studying their techniques and movements. He strived to be next in line,
maybe one day selected to be taken as a student. With no history, no shared
story, no lineage to leverage, he was simply a nobody. His only ever upgrade
from cleaning was the occasional chance to errands. Most of the time it was
running arms and armor out for repair, on the rare occasion missives from
town to town, though never anything of significant importance, guild secrets
were not handled by errand boys. Mundane tasks were far more plentiful
though, and soon he started to learn the lay of the land. As the time passed
he learned the differences in the races he came across, and concepts of
weather and seasons. His world was different now, and would continue in a way
he could never expect.

Role

Chapter 17

One particularly wet and sloppy day, he was entrusted with a letter to take
to Balator, it was nothing of significance, a simple ledger to the warrior
school requesting graduating numbers. He headed out into the gloom and
somberly reflected as the rain poured down, the muddy earth beneath his feet
felt familiar somehow. The Eastern Road was barren and Hamashs Gates were
closed. He followed the city walls, breaking north towards the center of
Balator. As he continued down the road, he concluded the youth that had been
just barely noticeable on the road, was indeed following him. Make that two
he thought to himself as he eyed another slowly working up his flank an ally
width away. He tucked the missive into his shirt and quickly counted out the
buildings between the fountain on his left and the entrance to warriors
school just beyond. He feinted left at the fountain and dropped below its
vaulted edge on all fours scrambling quickly as they came rushing. They had
seen him disappear suddenly, and knew he had to be close at hand. He had made
it full circle on the fountain as they rounded the same side and now they
were just ahead, their backs to him. Were they truly after him? Was he having
bouts of paranoia again? There was no one out there besides him, and he
wasnt going to get taken by ignorance again. He bounded towards them
dropping a shoulder low like he had seen the elders do in the guild. They
turned simultaneously but it was too late, he hit one youth square in chest,
sending him hurtling onto his back in the thick mud. The force stood Arratok
square and his surprise by the ease was only outdone by the second youths
surprise as he spun clockwise with a left jab to the chin, dropping his level
and throwing his right leg out he landed a lucky strike with a trip, It took
out the seconds legs and now both youths were gasping for air. Arratok
bellowed triumphantly as he mounted the second in full guard and struck him
again for good measure. His nose crunched satisfyingly, and out of the corner
of his eye Arratok saw the rushing of the first who had regained his
composure and come wildly dashing into the fray. Dropping his head and
summersaulting just out of distance he evaded the oncoming flurry of strikes.
His attacker pressed on and Arri dodged left and right desperately. He saw
his opportunity as a wild haymaker came forward and stepping inside the
strike, he landing a hard palm to the solar plexus. Doubled over, Arri was
able to follow through with an uppercut and his foe crumbled onto his back
sinking into the mud. Arratoks blood was pumping as he scrambled atop his foe
raising his fist back to finish him. Suddenly he was caught by the wrist,
yanked back off his foe and into the air. Spinning and flailing he found
himself face to face with a very large, very hard looking man.

Role

Chapter 18

"That is quite enough." Thrym spoke clearly and calmly. The tone of his voice
made it obvious that this was not a request, but a command. "You two, get
your asses back to your drills. Its painfully obvious you are in desperate
need of practice if this errand boy gets the best of you so easily." With
that the two would be assailants scampered back to the warrior school and
Thrym lowered Arratok back to his feet. "Come on now lad, lets get out of
this rain." They went inside and Arri handed over the ledgers from the
Galadon guild. A pot of warm spiced ale helped to shake off the weather, and
conversation started to flow, as his clothes started to dry out. Maybe Thrym
had sensed the jaded background and knew how to prod, maybe it was the ale
getting to his head, maybe Arratok just held it in too long and it needed to
find its way out, the only thing for certain is that on that day as the
discussion turned to Arri and his past, it unfolded in all its detail, start
to finish, for the first time ever to anyone. When he was finished Thrym
looked him dead in the eyes, "I can train you to be a machine of war, but you
must live true to your vision. Avenge your sister Arratok, and dedicate your
life to purity. There is but one war, and you have been lucky enough to have
been reborn for it. Now free from weakness and fear, you must harden yourself
and unyieldingly work on perfection. You will be the swords edge. You are
destined for greatness Arratok." With that he handed him a bedroll, and with
a smirk fished, "You begin your training at sunrise."

Role

Chapter 19

A thief by trade and training when he lived in the underdark, it was only
later when he had been taken under Thryms wing that he became a warrior by
study. He hasnt forgotten his old trade completely but has been reduced to
the basics. Hide Sneak and Steal, and picking locks.

Given his situations as a youth he is quite comfortable consuming pretty much
anything others would consider refuse.

His natural resistance has been bolstered by his young exposure thousands of
poisonous and arcane ingredients. As such he can Resist Arcane.

Given his seemingly endless bout of bad luck, he is overly aware of his
surroundings, some would even say he is Twitchy.

He is also a dedicated student of war, and would be considered an Apt Pupil
by most.

Arratok has no last name, but Thrym had taken to calling him "The reborn one"
or "the reborn" after his pass through death and shadow and his coming back
into the realm of Thera.

Role

Chapter 21

Arratok is not religious, he is not a man of faith, but this is more because
of his lack of understand of such zeal than anything else. Arratok is always
looking to improve his abilities in war, and is always looking to drill
himself harder, for him war is a religion, no real deity holds an unyielding
sway in combat, He has felt the wrath of gods, via priests and such, but
never has it been only faith that has been his undoing . This is not to say
Arratok does not get blasted pretty nasty on occasion, its just not
conceivable to him that the gods can control the fate of war. Not having
direction with religion also stems from his situational upbringing and his
lack of interaction in a religious way to any god.

The rites of war were a first true long term interaction with gods and one as
such they do not interfere with the results of mortals entrenched in combat.
This further pushed the notion to him, that he must remain dedicated to
self-reliance.

His influence of spiritual guidance was only that of original death vision.
At one time he thought that the voice he heard was Thrors, but so much time
has passed he cannot be certain. Arratok does not speak on it, but he feels
uncertain at times whether or not he is stronger for his lack of faith in
something shared by the others of the realm. With this uncertainty nipping at
him, he often finds comfort back to strengthening his focus on war, and his
trainings. Its a seemingly unbroken circle, rolling from confidence to
self-doubt back to dedication to self-reassurance through training and once
again confidence.

Role

Chapter 22

Arratok is looking to get some sort of documented publication of veil
changers to keep within the village. A Tome of artifacts that other villagers
could rely on to seek out to strengthen the veil when times get tough out
there. He wanted to have Jutley complete this with him, however Jutley is now
gone. Being that there are no other bards in the village he is trying to
figure out a way to get this information drummed up and the only one he
knows, who is focused on lore and neutral in the politics of war is Alduk,
the old wise one at the inn. Arratok will try to get something going in the
future so that the village will have an advantage in this goal.

Arratok has massive frustrations with some aspects of village. He has been
spending more time reading up on tactical defense and things the village is
weak where it could be strong. Some things he knows he cannot change, but he
has ideas that he wants to try and implement that will make the village less
of an easy target. Obviously these are not things that will give the
villagers a huge advantage, but they are things that will help make certain
aspects much more realistic or competitive for everyone both defenders and
aggressors, they are things that would create more atmosphere, and make raids
and counter raids more dynamic. Arratok will look to speak to someone about
it, within the village, before reaching out to the gods.

Role

Chapter 6

Were they seen? He couldnt be sure. Where is Bogrok, he should have been
here already. More time passed and Arratok was getting a sinking feeling in
his gut. Its been to long something has to be wrong. He was tucked away in
there hiding spot, and pacing so hard he could swear his footprints were
wearing the granite thin. His head was a tempest again, emotion frothing
thick as the twilight fog in Akharm harbor. A few more laps of the small dug
out hide-away was all he could take, belly down again he slipped into entry
way, ducked the low archway, and started home. His hands were clamped around
the vial and he started towards home. He shouldnt have stopped, he should
have went right home to Gemma. Why was Bogrok late? These thoughts sped
through his mind as he sped down the tunnels faster and faster, sweating
palms clenching around the antidote. It all seemed so easy, he was nearly
there, he could save Gem and take her away from all this. Almost home, almost
there, just a few more... Something isnt right... That smell? Burning!

The remnants of smoke hung in the air like the stink of a wet dog. Arratok
knew that this was a bad sign and stuck to the shadows as he crept around the
last bend. From a distance he could still make out his suspicions. Their
hovel was reduced to embers. They danced shifting across the floor of the
cavern like leaves blown about the ground on an autumn day. He dropped low
and shifted so he could get closer to them without giving away his presence.
The magus was there, along with three others of his fold. They were all tall
and slender, drab in heavy robes covered in intricately woven arcane symbols.
Arratok lithely slid closer keeping concealed but falling within earshot to
get an idea of what was going on. The lead magi was howling words of
blistering fury, his parents were cowered down begging for forgiveness, they
were sputtering excuses and swearing they had no idea of the attack and
vandalism that took place. They pleaded they had nothing to do with it, and
thrust Gemma forward in her frail state, insisting that she was still on
deaths door. At that moment Arratok realized there was another figure
present.

Role

Chapter 10

He opened his eyes at the sound of a call to attention. "INTRUDER!" cried a
voice as crips as mountain air. A massive blue figure rose from his position
bounding towards him. "Help meh" cried Arratok, but the words came out a
whisper. In that moment wonder came over Arratok, this creature was like
nothing he had ever seen, massive rippling muscle stretched tight over blue
skin, at least three times the size of him and moving quickly it bounded
towards him with a shoulder slung low. On its flank, clad in light armor
advanced a Drow. Its light skin and golden hair, so strange a sight Arratok
almost laughed. On the other side a bat, but large as a man, with golden
shimmering feathers soaring off the ground and holding something. It all
clicked, far too late to escape, they were all wielding weapons, and they had
zero desire to help him.

Role

Chapter 9

He was weak, his arms and legs were sore, and his head was playing tricks on
him. It was only a few hours ago he had barely evaded a patrol of Drow
trackers or was it? He could have sworn he had heard Bogrok with them, but he
was hearing a lot of things lately. He had been eating everything he could
get his hands on for the past few days, but a man cant survive on dirt and
rock. Even the drips of water from overhead had been riddled with minerals,
salty and as dangerous as they were refreshing. The minerals will rob your
body of its strength, your wits will leave you and death will come. He knew
the truth of those words all too well. What if his wits were already gone?
He heard them coming again or was that the sound of running water? He
couldnt tell anymore. He had lost track of time, and hope. Staggering
forward in a delirious state he could hear Gemma calling to him. "Come Arri
this way... just a little more..." But shes dead he thought. Blinking he could
see light coming from a small fire in the distance. The sound of running
water grew louder as he felt his way along the tunnel towards it. There is
three maybe four? He couldnt be sure. Drow wouldnt light a fire like that
he thought, but what if its a trap. The sound of water made it worse his
mind was cluttered with desire to rush forward. His mouth so parched, his
tongue glued to his teeth. He pushed on, closer still. It was so loud now the
sound of water that he couldnt bear it. He could see the figures lounging
about, but it was as if they couldnt see him at all. He tried to call out
but a low croak was all that came out. He staggered closer waving an arm
slowly, holding up both hands palms high. Closer and closer he edged hoping
only to feel some sort of embrace some sort of cooling refreshing release
from this torture. The water was thundering now overwhelming his hearing, his
eyes squeezed shut as he stepped into an area lit by some breaks in the
cavern ceiling. Warmth of the sun struck his face for the first time in his
life, a mesmerizing feeling it overtook him for the moment...

Role

Chapter 8

no reverberation, just a growing stir of warmth. Warmth that developed into a
heat, heat unto a blaze, and a blaze so immense, it caused Arratok to throw a
forearm before his face and drop to a knees. Flinching against the heat the
sensation was overwhelming. The world became a single sensation, hot. Then
came the unnerving howl, a blood curdling cry of a young girl. Horror, pain,
panic, all in one twisted nerve shattering sound. Arratok turned to look, and
his jaw swung open like a door in a storm. It was a terrible sight for anyone
to behold. Fire raging about the tattered blankets, hair singeing to the
scalp, skin blistering and cracking, the horrid rancor sent of burning flesh
biting at his nostrils. He was frozen, his mind went blank, his body ridged,
she flailed screeching mad with pain. Stomach turning over a rush of wretch
exited his mouth upon the front of his tunic and the floor in front of him.
He stumbled and fell sliding across dirt rock and into the cavern wall. Pain
shot through his arms and legs, he was running? How long had he been running?
Where was he headed? What the fuck had just happened? It wasnt real, It
couldnt be real. The walls were rolling slowly again, bubbling up from his
innards he bellowed out another hot spurt of wretch. Everything you know is
over. Keep going, or you will die. He was running again... tears streaming down
his cheeks as he we went.

Role

Chapter 7

"Heh tok the annidote like ah told yuh, heh took it fer her, heh will beh
back ere ter give it ter er. I know em. He is gona come back dis way, an
den yuh can take em, I swear ter yuh, I tol yer everything. Imma telling yer
da truth!" The words were like daggers in the heart. Bogrok had been caught,
and worse than that had been squealing. He had told them everything, bile
rose in the back of Arris throat and he nearly gagged. The walls around him
started to shift and slide in a dizzying dance, everything was coming undone.
A voice pleading out stole him back to focus, "Weh will elp yer gets it
back, we will hand em over ter yuh. When e comes home weh can set ah trap,
makin it easy fer yuh." His mother was begging the magus "Let us live, an weh
will hand em over, weh swear it." The words barely fazed Arri, he knew they
had little love for him, with no courage or strength it was just
self-preservation flowed in their hearts and minds. The magi was speaking
back now but Arri was focused on one thing, the bundle of rags off to their
right. Gemma was wrapped up with crusty puss filled eyes, and a yellow
mixture of blood and mucus dripping from her nose and lips. She was dying
right there, and he was so close, the cure encased in a clenched hand. He was
sweating profusely soaking his shirt and slicking his palms. "I hav got ter
do something." He whispered to himself, but what could he do. There was so
many of them, he would never make it to her in time. Even if he did, could he
get the antidote in her before they took him down? His mind was racing again,
and his pulse was pounding. He might not have another shot to save her but
this might not be a chance at all. What if they left, maybe he could sneak it
to her, what if they... "I have had QUITE ENOUGH of this filthy insolence." The
voice cut the air like the whistle of a well-honed blade. It was the tallest
of the arcane, throwing back his hood he slid forward as if rolling on
wheels. The magus they had been dealing with took a step to the side, it was
apparent that things were now out of his hands. Arratoks father started in a
shaky voice, "Weh will do whatever yuh..." like a sapling his words were cut
down in a single strike. "SILENCE" the word dropped like an axe. "We are
going rectify the situation, oh I can assure you. Your wretched son will..." A
soft sputtering interrupts the archmage, as Gemma hacks up blood and phlegm.
The archmage glares over at the child with narrowed eyes, his features
dripping with disgust. "As I was saying..." He starts, but delirious in fever
Gemma mutters out again interrupting. "Arri... are yuh dere?" In that moment
Arratok stepped forward arms extended, he nearly cried out to her, nearly
burst forth to her side. The Archmage palms turned upwards and his snake like
fingers wove in slow delicate rhythm. It was "CRACK!" snapped in the air as
if a whip had just been unfurled by the gods themselves. There was no echo,

Role

Chapter 5

The Magi had left, his father had sworn him a vicious beating for disobeying
him and embarrassing them, and his mother was now arguing with father on what
they should do. "Weh need ter git out a ere. Weh can leave em an go, she guna
die and he guna get us kilt!" "Nah we can make a deals wid em, we need these
two shites ter maken shure we can collect enuff of da ingredients" The
arguing continued and as the bickering escalated, no one was the wiser that
Aaratok had recovered and stole out into the deep, silent as a fox with
heading to the only place he could go...

He was hurtling now down the tunnels fast as he could push his burning
muscles. His heart pumped acid and his lungs churned the dank wet air with a
furious pace. Every step brought him closer to the only safe haven he knew.
Thoughts spun though his mind like a waterwheel, sloshing emotion about like
the rapids of a tormented river. His sisters agony, his parents fear and
weakness, a fleeting sense of self-preservation, anger, seething hated and
uncontrollable desire for revenge. Further and faster he shot down the
labyrinth until he felt as though hes heart would give out. Barely able to
stop without crashing into stalagmite and flowstone that spouted here, his
knees ached and thighs burned. He ducked through a low archway and slid belly
down through an opening slithering into a small domed space. "Gods beh damned
Arri, yer nearly sherd da shite out meh" A gruff voice spun out of Bogrok
like two pieces of slate rubbed face to face. Arratok rolled onto his back
sucking at the air like a wolf pup at its mothers teat. After a painfully
patient passing of moments, the story unfolded from Arratok to his long time,
and only friend.

Bogrok was another down on luck Duergar youth who had a similarly troubled,
albeit not as horrific upbringing. He was the only one Arri could turn to,
and knew he would find him at the dugout hideaway they had made near Bogroks
home. Together they plotted on how they could do something, anything to get
back at the magi. They had done this a thousand times, always halfhearted,
always just talk. The time for talk was now over, it was the time for action.
They were scared, and the plan was a nervous wreck of one, but they shook on
it and Bogrok swore he would back Arratok. It was done.

Role

Chapter 4

Suddenly flashing bits transform before your eyes. Blinking heavily it comes
to you hazy, as if still a dream in the twinkling hours of early morning.
"Hang in dere Gem, hang in dere!"
You feel yourself bouncing on the shoulder of a strong young Duergar.
Through the haze you still feel your vision is heightened, you can clearly
see the tunnels around you and the path disappearing behind you. Your eyelids
are granite, pulling down and closing out your vision. A sharp pain twangs
deep in your innards tightening like a rope of thorns knotted around your
entrails. You can feel the warm wet flow of blood cascading down your hand.
Each turn spinning through the tunnels, each passing moment, it slowly
becomes less noticeable. Numbness sets in and starts to creep up your wrist
and forearm. The salty metallic swill in your mouth dribbles out as you heave
another wet cough. "Gods damn it, Gem yuh hold ehn." Shuddering pain scolds
through your body again and everything fades into blackness.

It is hot... Boiling hot... Searing waves of heat seem to simmer over your flesh
like ghostly flames. Starting to struggle, open your eyes, the effort of
which nearly unbearable. You are on the floor of a disgusting hovel covered
in rags that stink of sweat and filth. Blankets? But you are sweltering. You
roll to one side trying to break free from your covers but two hard hands
coup your shoulders. "Gem stah still yuh need ter burn hit off... yuh hang in
there you hear meh..." The voices in the corner get louder "This is hardly
enough of the spores to be worth the full payment. I do have the antidote but
its far more expensive than what Im going to pay you. In fact I highly
doubt you can afford it at all." Arratok stands up and leaves your side "Yer
guna give us da gods damn antidote, or ah am guna cut yer fucking throat." A
knife is visible in his hand and his face is flat an expressionless. Suddenly
the Drows sneer of confidence changes, a twinge of worry creeps across his
face as he narrows his eyes and thrusts one hand before him. "STAND DOWN BOY"
demands the older larger Duergar. The mage whispers quickly words dropping
like tears from his lips. Arratok grimaces pain evident as he drops to one
knee. Hands shaking he fights back to his feet teeth gritted and eyes hard. A
staggering step is taken forward. "Geeettt theee Antiiidoteee orrr I..." before
he can finish there is a flash of movement and the older Duergar has him
swept off his feet and onto his back with a dexterous trip. "Quite an
impressive resilience for his age" half whispered the Drow as Gremlik adds a
cheapshot to his sons ribs. "Mer like quite an insolent shite" grumbles his
father. Air bursts out in a violent expulsion as Arratok takes another
cheapshot to the ribs. Violent pain racks your innards and for a moment you
are confused, were you kicked or was it him? The tightening is too much to
as you succumb to your pain and exhaustion.

Role

Chapter 3

Blackness seeps into your mind, stale air and the stink of the earth fills
your lungs and nostril. Blinking you try to strain your eyes and gain some
vision in this darkness. A soft wet drip is constantly echoing all about you,
but suddenly you hear something quite close to you on your right. You can
start to make out shapes as the harsh whisper fires again cold and curt.
"SHHHHHHH", "Gemma don mek noise thay er comin' dis way." Your heart sinks,
something in the way that it was spoken. The words hang in the air like a
boulder, slowly rolling on its axis with the trebuchet barely noticeable in
the distance. This is death itself lingering lazily in the air.The shapes
become a bit clearer still and you can see the outlines squeezing themselves
into at pitted wall of the cave. It is only now that you realize in the
shifting darkness, three lumbering shadows start to close from the west.
There harsh hunkered lines, the foul odor of rotting that chokes the already
thick air, the hissing pant that slurps through the wet poison breath.
Instincts fire in your mind, RUN, but the audible sniffing of their searching
stones your legs. Your bowels loosen tumbling over themselves and bile fills
the back of your throat. There is a subtle movement from the hiding spot,
then a clatter of rock upon rock in the distance. Echoing like thunder it
rattles down the tunnels in and out reverberating in waves from everywhere
and nowhere. The blood curdling shriek the follows turns your hair on end and
sends icy rivers down your spine. Two more cries shatter the steady rhythm of
the echoes and the clamor is nearly more than you can withstand. With
unprecedented speed the three cavefishers tear down the tunnels in the
direction of the initial sound. His voice cuts the ocean of air again hurried
and nervous "GEMMA comah now yah, weh must... come out a dere." "Gemma wha
ayre doing? COME NAW!! "URRY!!" A soft raspy response rattles back "Arri...
I... I found it... I... It... ooowwww..." As the gentle moan fades, there is
a soft wet coughing sound and the unmistakable wet slap of flesh hitting
stone. Sheer panic seeps through the guttural tone "GEEMMAAAA!"

Role

Chapter 2

For a little while they were making a good bit of scratch as harvesters. Not
that it ever went to the benefit of Arratok or even Gemma, meals still
consisted of refuse, while his parents filled themselves with booze. As all
dealings with the magi go however, things quickly turned sour. The demand for
the materials grew, the pay dwindled, missions became far more dangerous and
yet still, the pay continued to dwindle. They had ravaged a good deal of the
locally growing fungus and roots, and as the quantity dropped, their bellies
grew empty. Arratok often would suggest that they push back on the magi, and
demand more for their work, but his parents wouldnt hear it from him. They
were afraid of the power the magi had, and were too weak to oppose them, even
as they knew they were being cheated. Things continued down the slippery
slope, and they soon found themselves with not only a lack of food, and a
lack of coin, but the lack of ability to get the things that were now being
demanded of them. Trips stopped being just Arratok and his father, now his
mother and sister joined the searches because they needed every pair of eyes
and hands they had available. Arratok tried to talk sense into his parents,
Gemma was too little and it was far too dangerous for her to be out with
them. On several of the most recent missions they had come across cavefishers
and were lucky to sneak past unnoticed. Despite his pleading his parents were
stubborn. They were scared that if they didnt get what was demanded they
would not anger the magi. She could get into smaller crevasse and had sharper
eyes then all the rest of them, there was no way they would not be taking
her. And so they set out, on what would turn into the first tumbling of
stones, for the avalanche that would destroy everything they knew.

Role

Chapter 1

Arratok was born to Gremlik and Beknano, both Duergar of little, if any
notoriety. Gremlik was a thief, who had been caught in the act, and maimed.
The blundered job resulted in having each finger on his strong hand cut off,
rendering it a useless stump. Gremlik was deft enough to overcome the loss to
an extent, however he was unable to effectively use lock picks, placing him
at enough of a disadvantage to keep him out of the game as far as thieving
goes. Beknano was your standard knocked up prostitute story. The upside for
Gremlik was he didnt have to pay for intimacy any longer and Beknano, out of
work with a swollen belly, took to him as a means of protection, if only for
lack of choice.

When Arratok was born, it was into dirt, both physically, and financially.
They had nothing but a disgusting hovel in the far outskirts of TethAzeleth.
Begging and pan handling was the primary means of income. For meals they
resorted to eating what they could find which often was quite repulsive.
Other than Arratok, there was only one other child, a younger sister named
Gemma. Arratok had a strong bond with his little sister, and took care of her
more than his parents did. Things were pretty tough until they happened
across a professor from the School of Magic one day.

It was on that day, while the Drow sorcerer was out looking for a fungus,
prime ingredient in a powerful poisonous potion, that he came across the
family. It just so happened they made use of this fungus, due to the patch of
it that grew near their home. Strange as it would seem to a well fed well off
professor of the Magus arts, they would actually consume it as a food. The
family ingested so much of it in fact, and on such a regular basis that the
Drow was intrigued by their uncanny ability to disregard any and all effects.
This curiosity caused him seek to monitor them, as a hidden side agenda. A
deal was struck to harvest it for the magi, and in doing so they were to
receive payment. This later grew into agreement to seek out other things in
the deepness of the Underdark to help supply the magi with constant rations
of rare ingredients.

Immortal Comments

Immortal Comments

Title History

Leveling History

PK Deaths

PK Wins

PK Wins

PK Wins

PK Wins

PK Wins

Skill List

Skill List

PK Statistics

PK Gank-O-Meter

Timeline

Mob Deaths

Edges

Flaws

Racial Edges

Class Edges

Edges