Soalar Veristygian the Master of Necromancy

Role

Chapter 7

Now well into his ventures as a solitary journeyman necromancer, Soalar had
come across the Sacraa, read it, and found its prose intriguing. It was
Scripture, and meant to be puzzled through, but the concept of Truth, of
embracing one's inner desire, and that the darkness he had so often been
labeled with was the natural state of man that resonated deeply with
Soalar. So, too, did the idea that man's greatest gift was free Will. He had
always bucked when his fate was ordered about by others, and seeing the words
before him gave Soalar a sense of vindication that his beliefs and desires
were...reasonable.

Thus did he seek out Quarissa, the Voice of the Father, and she put before
him a task: to release the souls of three of those blinded by the fog of
illusion, the Light, and dedicate their empty bones to the Father. It was a
task Soalar would have done anyway, save the dedication. And yet when he fell
each of these Blinded, and sent the first real prayers he had ever uttered
into the ether, he felt that same sense of vindication and validation.


He slept for a time, once, and when he awoke, he heard the rasping voice of
the Lich Corophagus. "May the profane beg for mercy as Soalar enters the
temple." And like that, he had his chance. His sleep had been no different
from any other, so he had thought. Yet a great Touch had blessed him, and he
knew it.

Making his way across the sea, to the Temple in that dreary city, he felt awe
unlike he had since his first necromantic spell had animated that rat, so
many years ago.

He had another Purpose now, in addition to rising to the top of his craft,
and this gave him a doubly strong drive. He knew that not all who entered the
Cult were true dedicates of the Father, but as some time passed, and he
walked the darkened halls, he came to believe that he should seek out the
Father further, that simply being a cultist was not enough. This place was
built on principles that had guided Soalar's whole life, and thus he would
seek Scarabaeus directly. He knew it was the harder path, and in some ways
that, too, validated his choices.

Role

Chapter 6

Some years later, Soalar had progressed far enough in his guild to be a
journeyman necromancer proficient enough in the art to travel the lands and
exist outside the guild.

He had signed on for another contract with his parents company.Upon leaving
the guild, he had a signet medallion made, emblazoned with the skull and
gravestone symbol of the guild. The contract itself was easily enough
completed. On the last day of the excursion, Soalar awoke to his father in
his tent, bent over his side table. When Soalar asked what he has doing, his
father simply tossed him the medallion, its surface now scratched clear of
any identifying markings.

"You must exercise caution, my son. There are many that would kill you for
your chosen...skills. Do not flaunt it so."

"These skills you speak of so disparagingly are my life. They are the one
thing I have really found to be passionate about. It is the first choice I
have truly made for myself. I will not hide it!"

"Then you may cause yourself unnecessary difficulty."

"But it is necessary. If deny something that has become my life, I deny
myself. I will not deny what I want. Ever. It is what is true for me, and to
forget that would be to embrace mediocrity. I will never let that happen. I
will NOT deny what I am simply because it might be safer."

And Soalar left that morning, taking the medallion with him. He knew he would
live Truth he would not deny what he wanted. He enjoyed necromancy and
wanted to be a master of the craft. To do that he had to surround himself
with death, to learn what he could of different kinds of death.

**
Another few years passed ,and he learned that there was Cult of those
dedicated to Truth, to specifically combating the lie that was the Light.
Soalar found this idea attractive. He would push himself to attempt to join
such a group. It would be a push, but he believed that pushing himself to
this would drive him to be better in his guild, and thus give him a greater
chance at being a master of the craft and being true to his desires. And he
kept the medallion always as a reminder of the dangers of denying what he
truly wanted.

Role

Chapter 5

Several weeks later, the pack that had tormented the boy was dead. Soalar
cast about with his grave sense, and found the spirits of the dogs lingering
about the boy. While he was not affected by their presence, it was what
Soalar expected. The boy noticed Soalar and thanked him for keeping watch,
saying that he had finally been able to get his pick of the feast, as he
called it. Nodding, Soalar gave the boy a flask of honey wine, but bade him
not have more than a sip at a time. He knew the boy would not be able to
exert self-control, and had poisoned the flask. With the boy dead, Soalar
caught his spirit and sheparded it to the waiting canine shades, who tore it
apart.

"So you enabled this boy's hunger-driven malice, and then killed him, so you
could gain sway over the canine spirits? That is dark, my son. Efficient, but
dark."

"No darker than anything else in this world, father. It was efficient, the
boy would likely have died anyway, as would have the dogs. And now I have a
tool to use. Routine can be very, very useful, as you see."

Thus was Soalar a creature of habit, and thus did he truly believe he was no
more evil or deficient than anyone.

Role

Chapter 4

Years passed and Soalar grew in skill and aptitude in the necrotic arts. He
would occasionally leave the city to accompany his parents on contracts they
needed aid with, but the majority of his time was spent in study and
practice. He knew he was becoming "good" at his work, and that knowledge gave
him a mix of satisfaction and pleasure.

On one particular contract, he was with his parents band as they conducted a
raid on a supply train going to the abandoned siege camp. He was in a rather
tight spot, facing against a half-orc, a brute of a man. His father came into
view and saw the scene. "Do you need aid" he called. Soalar shook his head
and cast about himself with bone dust, uttering some wild incantation. The
shapes of six ghostly hounds coalesced out of the night, and at his bidding
took town his oversized foe with the pack tactics ingrained in the canine
spirits.

As the fight ended, his father asked him how he had gotten the loyalty of six
canine spirits to come at his call, regardless of his place. "Patience"
Soalar replied. Undeterred, his father pressed him for more details. And so
Soalar told a brief story.

There was a boy who lived a street over in Udgaard, not far from the guild.
He was a street mongrel, and had to scavenge for food. He would wait at the
back door of Ole' One Eyes, for the days scraps to be put out. Often times
dogs would growl, nip, and drive him away before he could get his pick.
Soalar knew of this pattern because he would often exit the guild at the same
time of night to take a meal at an unremarkable inn across the way. One
night, when the boy was again driven back from the scraps, Soalar approached
him.

"Do they frighten you" he asked the boy. At a sullen nod, he went on "why
don't you do something about it?" The boy responded with fear that he would
get caught or judged. Soalar promised to 'keep watch' and the boy said yes,
he did want to kill the dogs. And so Soalar kept watch, or at least it seemed
to through the boy's eyes. In reality Soalar had possessed a minor shade to
hold his cloak in place and make it seem as though he was there, when he was
not.

Role

Chapter 3

Without knowing what he was doing, Soalar cast wildly about the room, trying
to find something he could use to infuriate the old man. He was about to call
a puddle of ooze to thoroughly soak the old man, when he saw the rats
smoking bones. Without thinking he threw his magic at the bones, hoping to
gather them with wind and toss them in the face of the old man. Instead,
something else happened.

The bones coalesced into their former shape, as though suddenly strung
together on wires. The head swiveled toward Soalar, dull points of blue light
staring expressionlessly at him. Too stunned to react, he just pointed at the
old man. The skeletal rat wobbled briefly and started toward the old wizard,
gradually gaining speed as it crossed the distance between them. The old man
had been too stunned to react initially, but he had seen too much to be truly
dumbfounded. With a snap of his fingers the stone of the floor under the
scurrying rat-beast softened briefly, trapping the thing before folding over
on itself and pulverizing the bones.

Soalar was dumbfounded. He sat there, motionless, staring alternately between
the floor and the old man. When the wizard spoke, it was in tones equal part
resignation and relief. "Ah, so you do have...inclinations. I can teach you
nothing of that. But I know who can."

That very day they walked the twisted streets to the unremarkable house. A
cloaked figure, motionless despite the wind, stood just inside. As Soalar
passed it, he could feel a profound lack a lack of heat, a lack of life.
"It is dead" was all he could say to the old man. "You sense that without
seeing. I suppose that will serve you well here." Another old man came to
greet them, this one stooped with age. Soalar looked at him, not showing any
fear, but feeling apprehension.As if he could Sense the entirety of
Soalar's thoughts, the newcomer stared at him briefly before upending a pouch
on the ground in front of them, a pile of thoroughly dead cockroaches lying on
the street. With a bloodless smirk at Soalar, he snapped his fingers, and the
dead things flipped onto their decayed limbs, scurrying toward the old
invoker. With a muttered curse, Soalar's old teacher stamped his boot and
hurried away.

The combination of demonstrating this new, forbidden magic, and the utter
disregard shown in harrying his old adversary engendered feelings almost of
twisted kinship. He convinced the stoop-shouldered man to take him as
apprentice. And from that day Soalar found something he was passionate about.
Necromancy.

Role

Chapter 2

After several years passed, enough for him to reach adolescence and be a
proper student,they moved their operation to Udgaard. His mother hired a
tutor, retired from the guild of invocation to teach Soalar how to be a
battle wizard. The old man realized two things quickly: that Soalar was
magically gifted, and that he was not a very attentive student.

A year passed, and with each month the old man grew more frustrated with
Soalar. The youth showed aptitude when it came to the subtleties of Ice, but
had no desire at all to learn lightning spells, earth spells, and especially
fire spells. One afternoon, as they sat in the stoic chamber that was their
lesson hall, Soalar was typically apathetic. A rat scurried by in the corner,
and the old man, furious at being ignored for hours upon hours, threw a
controlled fireball, roasting the animal instantly, leaving nothing but
bones.

"Do you see the power you can command!" he all but shouted. "You can make
your foes scream! You can turn tides in an instant. The powers of creation
can be at your fingertips!"

"I dont want them to scream," said a sullen Soalar. "I don't want to hear
more shouting. Father and mother shout. It is an annoyance at best. Why can't
we learn more about Ice? Ice is cold. Things die silently. But they die, and
by my hand! Why can't we learn more about that."

"Ice is petty compared to the powers of fire. You whine about your parents
fighting? Do you understand a tenth of the horrors in this world? You have a
gift, and you ignore it. You trivialize it. Do you have any idea what youre
doing? Try to use some power, really try boy! Show me something for just
once. Something!"

Soalar was angry now, and he hated knowing he was showing his emotions. But
he could not stop. "You want to see my power, sir? You want to really see me
try something? Even though you have not taught me anything I wanted to
learn?"

Role

Chapter 1

Soalar was an accident. His parents belonged to a mercenary company. His
father was a soldier skilled, but very low born in dark-elven society. His
mother, a human, trained in the anti-paladins guild. When she found out she
was with child, her first instinct was to terminate the pregnancy. But
knowing who the father was, she believed there a good chance that the
offspring of a dark-elf and an anti-paladin would be likely to have the gifts
to weave magic.And she believed it would be possible to train such a child
to be a powerful ally.

She was correct in that the child was gifted. When they asked the healer
present at the birth, he said that yes, the spark was within him. But while
the spark for magic was strong, so too would be the childs will.

It should be noted here that Soalar's father, while a drow, was not an
archetype of that dark race. He did not seek the light by any means, but he
eschewed cruelty and chaos. If his foe needed to die, he would see to their
death. If his contract called for a distraction, he would provide it. But
torture for tortures sake, spreading chaos for chaos for the sheer joy of it
all these his father did not subscribe to at all. Nor did he believe in
exposing his child to unnecessary horrors to "toughen him up".

In these senses, his father differed from his mother a great deal. Perhaps it
was her ties with the demons, perhaps it was just a twist in her personality
likely the same one that led here to become a black paladin, and to think
it reasonable to turn her child into an ally or weapon.But she believed in
"hardening" her son and so she tried to save prisoner interrogations,
executions, or even simple butchering of food for when her son was around.
And while he would not come to terms with this for years, Soalar did harden,
did accept that violence and cruelty had their place in this case, his
mother had made another as dark as herself in that regard.

Soalar would never directly express displeasure at this he learned early to
show no fear or sadness, lest he get preyed upon (even if just in the sense
of being ridiculed). But there was some tell that his father could pick up on
(or maybe it was parental instinct, even in a drow), and he knew that Soalar
did not enjoy seeing the dark things he saw. And so his parents would argue,
his father trying to shelter his son in some way. While Soalar understood
what was occurring, he hated the arguing, the noise, the anger. He had become
very detached at a young age, and witnessing these outbursts made him very
uncomfortable. It would prove to be significant later.

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