Vhateel the Petitioner of the Lucky Lord's Favor, Too Stinky for the Inn

Skill List

Role

Chapter 6

Vhateel slowly wiped the last bit of putrid flesh from the breastplate made
of dwarven rib bones, long had he worn this armor and been stolid with the
necessity despite his disgust for such things. Looking up from the finished
task he could see Zhenyen slowly removing the fine coat, how intricate was
the stitching and how elaborate the golden thread creating the image of a
great beast. A flash of jealousy was quickly suppressed, this is the life he
had chosen for himself to finish what needed to be finished. It was time,
slowly Vhateel let the ruined cloth fall to the sand strewn tunnel floor...
the rag was ruined from scrubbing this breastplate anyway. As they moved into
the final chambers Zhenyen handed him the coat, stitching glittering in the
magical light they had summoned to travel with.


The knife sliding just beginning to bite into his skin, the lack of pain,
cold and heat all swirling through his form, and black... absolute black.


Slowly he opened his eyes, no.. something was wrong, it wasn't opening and
they weren't eyes. Vhateel took it all in within a moment, the closed walls
of this deep chamber, the stone tables, his body wrapped tightly with week
old bandages, and the lack of breath. The stark and sudden realization of no
movement, no motion, not a stir. He simply was. How strange it was to look
about without having to focus or even 'look', and yet he could see just as
well as he had before if not better. He had avoided the burning fires of the
nine hells, for now. And despite the impossibility of succeeding at bringing
them back and such a simple act redeeming his spirit, he was ironically
pleased at staving off his eternal torment. Now the true study begins, now
the oldest masters of necromancy can't hold him back from secrets he has long
sought!

Role

Chapter 5

Books fell to the floor haphazardly as Vhateel swept the tomes off of the
dark stone table. Unmasked rage ran rampant across his pasty feature, his
palms slapping down upon the table top in frustration. "It isn't here! It
isn't anywhere!" Vhateel screeched as he slapped the table once more. How he
had looked, endlessly studied and re-studied every written word within the
dust covered archives. This was the only reason he had sought them out, for
the Scions were widely understood to have control and understanding over even
the most forbidden teaching. But yet, it was not here!

Vhateel stared at the mess of rare publications strewn about the floor, each
said to be it's own magnum opus.
It is not here he continued to repeat, fixated upon the pile.
It is not here and it changes nothing.
It is not here and I have walked even further from my ancestry.
It is not here and I may be damned to the nine hells for all I have done.
It became a mantra.
It is not here and I shall not relent!
It is not here and their spirits shall be returned.
It is not here but it does not matter.

He turned in disgust and walked from the library briskly, leaving the clutter
where it was. There was no time to waste on such a mundane thing as cleaning
up after himself, not when he had come so far. Though he was disgusted with
the Scions for not having what he required, he realized the capable abilities
they employed. Vhateel would not turn his back on them, though the
relationship was tenuous. No, he would do everything he could to manipulate
them into his service to finally uncover the specific oscillation that would
lead him further.

Role

Chapter 4

Apprehension grows as his understanding and mastery of animation expands. The
apprehension evolves into denial, running it's course through anger with
violent repercussions. Unfortunate souls scream as they are released from
their mortal coil as the young Vhateel Jendi expels his rage upon those that
are lesser than he. Eventually he is spent, physically and mentally, and as
he collapses into a heap to rest against the dirty wall of the guildhall his
thoughts whirl. The body was raised, easily answering his commands through
the beckoning coils of the negative plane. And yet it was just that, only
that, a simple automaton destined to act by the strings of his will. A cloud
of dust leapt from a small spot on the floor as he slammed his fist down in
angry denial. There must be a way, these creations were empty vessels after
all. Struggling to stand, Vhateel rubbed his hand as he wandered forth from
the guild and out onto the city streets of Hamsah.

That is where he found his hope, the sand blown, refuse strewn streets of the
desert city. For that is where he over heard the rugged purveyor of the
leather shop blubbering to one of his customers. Vhateel slowed to a stop,
near to the stand, simply listening as the man rambled on about the walking
shadows he had seen following some dark skinned giant warrior in the desert.
The man he addressed leaned forward on the rough counter of the leather
stand, nodding in acceptance and then muttering about what he knew. Vhateel
leaned closer to discover that this was a regular occurrence south of the
city, for somewhere in the desert an elite collection of minds worked in
secret. What they worked for or why did not matter to Vhateel, for at that
moment he realized that there were those in Thera that understood even more
than the masters of his guild. He realized almost immediately that they would
wish things of him and have their own designs, but that didn't matter for he
would do as he needed to gain access to their secrets. For these shadow
wizards were certainly masters of lost powers, they must know how to bind the
soul to an automaton.

Role

Chapter 3

- Young Vhateel was a carefree child who loved playing pranks and running for
no other reason than to run. This was all beaten out of him by his drunk
father, but occasionally there is a spark of the old playful child.

- Has a subconscious need to protect older human women.

- Loves tea, brewing tea alone in his dockside shack was what he did to
overcome the horrible dead fish smell so prevalent on Voralian's riverside
property.

- Hates the city of Voralian with an unbridled passion and will avoid going
anywhere near at all costs.

- When he was young, he daydreamed of being a Maran, but as his life has
taken a turn for the worse he realizes that to bring back his Mother and
Father he must turn away from that old dream. Because of this Vhateel has a
very noticeable jealousy of anyone in the Fortress.

- Despite his jealous dislike of various Fortress members, Vhateel has an
unrelenting respect for whomever holds the station of Marshall, this stems
from all the great things he heard about his distant ancestor Rhone Jendi.

Role

Chapter 2

Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant! This would be the savior of not only his
Mother and Father, but hopefully of his very soul as well! How long Vhateel
had wandered, scavenging and stealing just to live. Far from Voralian,
through hill and valley, avoiding roads and paths because there may be guards
patrolling them that recognized young Vhateel. It was not until he snuck into
the sand city Hamsah, by way of the swift flowing canal, that he found a
place he would stay. And this place was the answer to everything he had done
to taint his soul and stray from the way of the phoenix. It did not take much
for Vhateel to gain a small corner mat in the necromancers guild, all he had
to do was trick the guild master by offering everything he owned, which after
all was only the cloths on his back and a few scraps of food he had stolen.
Oh how the guild master enjoyed a sneaky little trick, he took a quick liking
to Vhateel and even gifted him a clean mat and a new robe which was replaced
if requested.

Yes, back to the idea, the idea that was of course his reason for joining the
necromancy guildhall. He would find a way, through the secrets of this guild,
to bring the souls of both his Mother and Father back to Thera and into the
empty bodies of soul less corpses! That his Father could see his Mother would
force his Father to forgive Vhateel. And because he undid the death of his
Mother, which was caused by child birth, he would gain forgiveness from the
phoenix! Just going over his plan once more made him unconsciously grab at
the front of his robes to touch the phoenix pendant he wore beneath them.
This must be the only way to completely right all that he had wronged, and he
must be resolute in this course despite what others may say. Vhateel Jendi
would bring back the Jendi name to the proper glory befitting the stories his
Father would rarely tell him about his ancestor Rhone Jendi.

Role

Chapter 1

An abrupt crash as the front door startles young Vhateel from his rather
common daydreaming. The slammed door shook a few of the nick-knacks, causing
them to rattle and quiver. Vhateel shuddered, Father must be deep in the
drink this evening which meant he was angry and violent again. Day after day,
young Vhateel would be reminded of the curse he had brought upon their
family. How his very existence had been the end of his Mother, too soon,
through birth. How his Father worked day after day, trying to bring their
family name back into grace and how all of this was Vhateel's fault. Holy
beating in the name of the phoenix were always worse when Father came home
deep in the drink, and the deeper the worse the beating. By the sound of how
forcefully the door was slammed, it was going to be a painful night.

These types of beatings became more frequent as Vhateel grew older and strong
enough to recover faster. Always his Father would mutter drunkenly about his
Mother and the Phoenix as he struck with fist, board, belt, or stick. When
Vhateel was young he was able to close himself off and use his imagination
and child like spunk to forget about what happened and be a normal, if
slightly reserved, little boy. That all changed of course, and it escalated
when he became a teenager, one night when Father came home far more drunk
than usual.

Vhateel struggled and attempted to squirm to one side or the other so the
small bludgeon wouldn't hurt as bad. But still his father swung, screaming
that Vhateel was a curse upon all men whom wished to be holy servants of the
phoenix! Rage welled within Vhateel, hate, hurt, all these emotions he had
fought off and ignored all his life. They all swirled and he almost blacked
out, falling forward and twisting to face his Father. Lifting a slender hand
to point a small finger towards his Father. Vhateel let loose all of those
things he tried to hide down deep, willing them forth with a wail. His
Fathers let forth a vicious cough of blood as he crumbled to his knees,
staring at Vhateel before falling face down. The blood pooling around his
head freezing as the body began to twitch in the throes of death. In a daze
Vhateel staggered to his feet, and stood for a long while staring at his
Father before gathering a few things and fleeing Voralian before the sun
could rise and customers of his Father's fish stand could come looking.

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