Voszoad Muckcraw the Vile Priest of the Maw, Nightreaver of Thar-Eris

Role

Chapter 4

Within the realms of dreams a small toad-like figure stands next to an
annoying living pebble as they both gaze over the fallen. The corpse of
a spire musician lay riddled with poxous boils, quivering and twitching
with the last remenants of life escaping it.

A familiar dimunitive figure appears in a puff of sulfur, mildly amused
by the circumstances. The figure touches the chin of the toad-like
creature and a gaping mouth is burned into its skin. The maw fluxes in
everchanging emotion in contrast to the toads own mouth, however it lends
to the creature the guise of a huge disfigured craw. Finally, the collar
around the toad-like creature loosens slightly more as the creature lets
out a loud trill that echoes the area.




Ash and soot rises from the smoldering grounds as flames erupt from the
the grounds engulfing nearby buildings. Through a noxious and gaseous
haze a toad-like figure concentrates and summons forth a being from the
lands as a terrible plague diseases the unlucky being. Guards makes their
way through the smoke and brume in the air to apprehend the toad-like
being. The blight quickly spreads upon the guards as the inhale the malady
infecting the air. Their skin blisters with seeping sores as they wretch
upon the ground in agony and pain. Within the murk the dimunitive figure
once again appears before the toad-like being. The toad hops towards the
other small figure and whispers float along in the calamity of the area.
Throughout all of Thera, insects that feed on the carrion stop momentarily
in their feasts, viruses and sicknessess stir from their slumber, every
imaginable venomous form increases in potency. A Nightreaver has come to
replace the risen, to pave the way with infection and slag for the rise.

Role

Chapter 3

The surface rippled upon the murky mire of the Blackwater swamp, as the
denizens of the night beckoned forth from their hidden recesses. Forms
and shadows multiplied against the moonlit sky, as a solitary form sits
perched upon a gnarled stump croaking softly in the darkness.

The smell of sulfur fills the air, as a curious creature gazes upon the
toadish form upon the stump. Words spoken between the two become garbled
by the murky sounds of the swamp and its inhabitants so to shroud this
dark union to those who live not in the mire.

A single word lifts upon the gaseous vapors of the swamp...--Freedom--
While the perching form gasps slightly, as the mithril collar loosens
about its neck. The other curious form has vanished, yet its power still
lingers around the effigy of the toadish creature. As if one with him....




A twisted creature hobbles along a vast field of barley and wheat, it
feigns a fatal wound as if to mimic a wounded animal. A cow-like being
rises upon a hill with axe in hand, as the wounded creature deceptively
rolls out of the way from the crashing axe blade with lightning speed.
The creature calls forth the venom from the bowels of the mire and foils
the cow-like forms assault, as its once rampaging form lies twisted and
diseased upon the tall grasses of the field.




Surrounded by fires and guards alike, the familiar toadish form continues
to spread his pestilence and mayhem in delight, when a feline voice calls
to him amused by the destruction. The toadish form found himself upon a
ramp to a great tree where darkened branches oozed of the mire itself.
The toadish being felt at one with this place and the feline form hidden
within the brush welcomed him to perch upon one of the darkest of the
branches. The smell of sulfur filled the air likened to years ago, and
power once again came from the impish being that freed him. The collar
about the toadish creature loosened once more, a beckoning sigh that he
was to be unleashed like wild plague upon the lands..A dog chained no more..

Role

Chapter 2

A large blackened wagon scorched and worn rushes through the streets of
Balator towards the Imperial Palace. Shackled together a group of slaves
are lead to the Imperial Square. Chains and shackles group each of the
slaves together like interwoven links on mail. Bringing up the rear of
the sort, a familiar and warped creature skitters along the ground. The
youthful half-drow child has long vanished, only the semblance of a
unsightly creature remains in his stead.

Within the darkness of the Imperial guild of Anti-Paladin's, the lowly
creature hangs slumped and near lifeless with its arms outstretched and
chained to onyx walls. Splatters of blood line the walls as they glisten with
each flicker of the torchlight. Various instruments of torture lay about
stone slabs surrounding the beast. Whatever their remained in the creature
that was stable and pure had long been whipped and harrowed away. The
creature willed itself to cling to life, only so to curse and bane his
oppressors with every last breath. With each and blasphemy the creature
uttered, a solid mithril collar singed its flesh as it dug deeper and deeper
in its flesh. But from the darkness, his damning cries, would be met with and
answer. An answer not from his Imperial tormentors, but from something far
unparalleled then mortal man.

And the voice from the darkness uttered....

"Such a lowly creature, lost and mishappen"...

"Can you see the irony and blithe so many moons ago when you were
setting those forests ablaze, cavort and free, purging that which
was too weak to stand before the flames, yet all the while laying
ground for life a new to arise".

"Do you see the similarities, my beautiful primordial creature?"

"You have sprung to life, now you must take root."

"Feel that anger within...That hatred..As it storms within you.."

"Grasp upon that venerable spirit tugging your being and unleash it.."

"Unfetter and Disenthrall them all!"

Croaking loudly with a vibrating trill, the creature begged for freedom.

Suddenly their chains broke their bindings, as the creature grasped at
the mithril collar around its neck feverishly trying to remove it.

"Oh yes..Voszoad!! Yes that's what I will call you! That collar? Keep it
my beautiful creature..To remind you of where you have been..And also
to remind others...You are one of mine of course"...

Role

Chapter 1

To understand who and what Voszoad is, one must gaze into an earlier
day, a bygone day far from his current puzzling and unfortunate visage.

Deep in the Feanwyn Weald, a young half-drow strolls beside his father
as he begins his day in the Weald clearing out trees with the various
other lumberjacks. The young child has an anxious look in his eyes as
he spots some other children playing at the edge of a clearing. The
father motions for the young half-drow to go play.

Now the young half-drow, he was a mischievious child, and was prone
for being the cause of a lot of "trouble" in the barracks and among
the lumberjack families which resided in the Weald. He learned early
the value of deceit and covering up his actions so to avoid getting
a lashing on his behind. And this day was like no other, his intent
was not to play with the other children but go into the woods and
play with a flint he had stolen from one of his fathers friends.

By dusk, random fires were strewn throughout the forest of the Weald
and stretching into the Silverwoods. The young half-drow rolled along
the ground in laughter and delight at the dancing flames as they twist
and turned, while he gazed up at the rising embers. Suddenly the boys
ears perked, as whispers could be heard over the crackling flames.
Flickers of light could be seen fluttering along the tree-tops, as they
drew closer and closer.

Faeries!!! The young child screamed, as he swiftly threw the flint into
some nearby brush.

I didn't do it! I swear! The child pleaded..

In his blatant vandalism of the forests he had set a blaze several fairy
mounds in his foolish debacle. The faeries began to dance about a lone
figure emerging from the woods, a dryad as black as night and rippling
with magic. A forest witch whom the faeries served and whom she protects was
now full of anger. She stared at the young half-drow as she
raised a solitary finger pointing in his direction. Suddenly a loud and
echoing --CROAKING-- could be heard all around. The faeries began to
dance about the young child, as their magics combined with that of the
witch. The young child thrashed about violently upon the forest floor as
his began to flicker and glow, his body twisting and contorting. Then an
ominous silence fell upon the forest, the fires dimmed and the embers
faded away into nothingness, the faeries vanished from sight, and the
forest witch was of no more.

The only thing remaining...Was a glum croaking sound emanating from the
center of the forest where a dejected and gnarled creature clung.

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