Koom the Holy of Faith

Role

Chapter 7

The lithe wood-elf Hughli stood between the flicking spirit and the Breath of
the Maw--Azzael. Although Koom dared not challenge those enjoying a peace with
the Spirit, he squinted his beady eyes trying to discern the elf's true nature.
She looked like a Sister. Same shape as those of the servants of the Matron
Mother, at least as best he could remember. But there as something different.
She had the mark of a gaping maw upon her flesh. Clearly, it seemed to Koom,
she had been saved and sealed by the Father. Not a She at all, but a Brother.

Brothers in the faith were common in the Tree, even those redeemed from their
past as Sisters. Even if they still looked like Sisters. Holy business could be
confusing to the less enlightened, Koom thought to himself.

Llaryin was a Sister through and through. Even after being repeatedly warned by
Koom, the time had come for prayer. It appeared to Koom that these prayers
smote the the influence of the Mother within the elf, and it bled out in her
words. And bled, and bled. Even as Koom and Sivane attacked the Captain within
the Spire, she continued to pour out weakness and attempt to infect Sivane and
Koom with fearful fiends. Moons later, within the Palace this time, she again
appeared to Koom as a zombie, moaning and groaning and trying to draw him into
a slumber. Koom resigned himself to continue to pray for her and her Sisterhood.

Role

Chapter 6

A spirit flickered and faded around a massive totem. Behind Koom a pit of ooze
sputtered bubbles, and the Nightreaver's crackling voice found its way to his
ear. Koom nodded his large, shaggy head and in the blink of an eye an imp was
standing among them.

Koom was still with awe, but what did the imp see within the odd giant? Did he
see the shine of genuine genius? Or was it the simple dullness that comes with
inept madness? Or possibly the focused yet fluttering fires of entropy? Is such
even possible? They spoke briefly and the imp's half-grin quickly turned into a
amused laugh, "What do you seek?"

"To prepare the Feast, to break the bones, and mind." Koom said solemnly, but
his eyes sparkled with mischief.

The imp nodded, and the world began churning around Koom again. Now Koom saw
the cracks of the soul within others' eyes. And he saw how to widen those
cracks as he leaned in with a peer and a prayer or a leer and a laugh.

* * *

It was not long before Koom heard voices whisper of a prayer called Devalue
Life. He began to search Thera for a guildmaster to teach him, but one after
another (and sometimes the same one again) all balked at it. His mind raced and
he began instead to search Thera for the devalue of life so he would know what
to pray for. Instead, he was filled with power from on low.

Having chosen one path, Koom had decided to let the wisdom of the maw point out
another. But, before he could give word to these swirling thoughts, the imp
twirled and gestured toward the Path of Venom. And so it was he became an
Avatar of Venom.

Role

Chapter 5

Koom's eyes continued to stare with hungry delight as his sword glided through
elven flesh. He did not notice the dark elf standing beside him until
everything was awash in a faint white cloud. Darkness writhed and coursed
around this creeping creature, and he peered back at Koom with one living eye
and one dead.

They spoke of morals, philosophy, and religion at great length. Koom explained
how the Mother controlled the world through her spiritual tentacles, turning
the living into mere zombie-like puppets. It was only through cutting these
tentacles and plugging the holes within that her influence be stemmed, and the
bodies butchered and burned for the Father--for the Great Feast of the Maw!

Some would be quite attached and they would have to be completely broken in
body and mind. Only when their bodies were plugged or their minds enlightened
would they be redeemed. Azzael nodded throughout Koom's testimony, adding
insights and sharing words of wisdom as Koom had never heard before.

Koom was distracted from his cutting of elves long enough to ponder the divine
intelligence and foresight that Azzael breathed. Koom prayed, "Is this the
Breath of the Maw?" Then, just as the prophecy had shown, Koom was empowered
with a touch of chaos and inducted into the Refuge. Truly the Father was with
this one. Koom would listen when Azzael spoke, to be ready for the visions and
power of the Maw.

Now it was time for Koom to share his own blessings, prayers, and prophecies
with others.

Role

Chapter 4

Koom narrowed his large eyes and stared forward, ignoring the fluttering things
brushing up against his arms, legs, and back. He peered into the hut on the
north side of the damp path at the creature, glowing with a radiant white aura,
that would bestow upon Koom the ritual blessings of the swamp. Always expecting
everything, Koom stepped forward boldly. The shouting voices were muffled by
thick air, until all that could be heard was pained laughter and then a death
cry. A narrow stream of blood, bubbling and hissing with drops of corrosive
acid, trickled out of the hut before sinking into the dirt.

* * *

Again, Koom stood on that damp path outside the hut.

"I come seeking thy blessings of the swamp once again!"

The shaman replied, "You ssspeak well, for a giant..."

"What know I of giants? I only know the ancient words of the Mother and
Father."

The shaman's disdain could be heard in his voice, "Giant head ssstill asss
empty asss the volcano I sssee... have you not ressseived enough
blesssingssssss...?"

"I have heard visions that the swamp calls! I came here for guild training and
found thee!"

Koom slowly paced back and forth as one giving a sermon or lecture, turning
every so often to shout at the door to the hut.

"I have returned with the Father's touch, and a touch of iron! I am here for
thy fire and blood, thy ooze and power! I will, I WILL be blessed by the swamp
again!"

With that, Koom barged into the hut and acrid fumes and the clashing of metal
burst out as a great battle ensued. Several long, slow hours passed in the hazy
muck, until Koom emerged from the hut looking ill and scorched. He turned over
a smoldering flail in his giant palm before putting it into his bag and instead
gripped one dripping with digestive-like juices.

"This time the swamp chooses me to bestow its blessings." He smiled, and
laughed heartily to himself as he trudged back through the swampy muck.

"But now I must find the refuge in the woods, so the vision voiced."

Role

Chapter 3

Disla struggled to remain conscious. She knew if she relaxed too much, she
wouldn't wake up again. Luckily she was being dragged by her hair across rough
terrains and through thickets, keeping her awake. Her thoughts went to the
young fire giant who held her life in his huge hand.

The Transfiguration had been particularly brutal for him, due to his stubborn,
unpredictable will. They tried a variety of dark-elf teaching methods to help
him learn the prayers, yet he resisted every one. Even if he got it correct one
day, the next days' repetition would be all wrong. The priestesses worried that
his mind was too addled from the Transfiguration, and they began to question if
he had enough mental capacity to be a Believer. Disla was a doubter.

Disla heard him as they traveled; muttering, yelling, sometimes in ecstatic
joy and other times in angry desperation. She realized she badly needed help
for her wounds.

"Koom," she gasped. There was no response, and no break in stride. Disla
decided to get creative. She had sometimes heard Koom praying to 'father'.

"The Father has a vision for you... uh, wait and listen."

She felt herself stop moving. Blood began to pool in the mud around her.
Noticing her musky surroundings for the first time, she cried out, "The swamp
calls. Offering blessings."

Koom grumbled, "Blood? Ooze? Flames? Power?"

Disla wasn't sure if Koom was looking for these, vengeful about what happened
to him among the dark-elves, or questioning her loyalty since she was involved
when these were used against him. She tried to appeal with vague phrases.

"Be wary of the Mother."

She heard the giant pace to and fro with large slurpy sounds. He slapped at
flying creatures and other things Disla couldn't see from the way her was
twisted in his hand.

Koom boomed to the buzzing swamp, "Scourges of stirges pour forth from the
Mother's womb to create flocks of zombies!"

Was he lost, hopeless, or crazy? she wondered. "Refuge in the woods," she
croaked.

They began moving again, then more pacing and struggling. The pain lessened as
her legs and arms numbed. Each word spoken now required her full concentration
and a deep breath. Maybe that was too complicated, she thought as her vision
dimmed. She hoped his slow mind could at least find shelter somewhere nearby.
Disla rasped, "gaping.. earth.."

As desperation set in, she became delirious. "maw.. ancient.. darkness.."

As the chaos overtook her, she sunk into fearful brokenness. "pray.. please..
help.."

Through the blackness, she heard Koom chuckle loudly, "I have prayed for thee,
Sister. Father! I pray our Sisters are freed from the ghastly tentacles of the
Mother that I might mend the hole in their souls!"

The last sensation Disla felt was being forcibly pierced by a broken tree
trunk, pinning her into the dark, damp dirt.

Koom and his voice melded into the mists, "I pray she is favored by the maw in
thy ancient feast!"

Role

Chapter 2

Koom was captured by dark elves and forced into servitude as an eunuch.
He suffered psychological as well as physical torture, and developed
a love for both and a hatred for women. He has a unsatiable rebellous
streak and a deep-rooted insecurity at having lost his manhood.
He will attempt to kill any woman he thinks he can if he can get away.
He worships Lyristeon, and has an unorthodox understanding of "family".
He has no problem flipping between kindness and combat at a moment's
notice, sometimes his sanity wanes and he isn't aware of the difference.

Role

Chapter 1

Koom chuckled loudly as he pressed the whimpering, naked dark-elf down against
the rack. "Brother, up above they call this position 'spread-eagle'."

Koom forcefully locked one arm after the other into the shackles. "Named after
a small soaring creature, you see."

Stepping back, his eyes opened wide, "Nothing to be afraid of... sister." Koom
flashed the defeated dark-elf a mouth of gaping teeth as the dark-elf
priestesses stepped forward with ceremonial knives.

Screams, mixed with laughter, burst from between the bars of the small window
and echoed down the cavernous hallway before dissipating into the darkness.

Moments later a dull, soggy thud, thud, thud pounded the door from the inside.
Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Between the thuds, a faint whisper could be heard
slithering from the dust beneath the door. "You blinked." Thud. "You blinked."
Thud.

Metal scraped against metal as the door was unlocked, then the old hinges
creaked open. Koom stood alone in the doorway. One large, black hand held the
blood-matted white hair of a barely-conscious priestess. Skull-cracked bodies
and puddles of blood littered the bare floor around him. Behind Koom, the
dark-elf hung limp on the rack, blood pouring unchecked from his crouch. Koom
chuckled to himself.

"With Koom, your Matron Mother may have made a eunuch..."

Koom began walking down the hallway away from the light, dragging the priestess
by the hair.

"She did not make a sister."

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