Vezzerax the Spirit Slayer

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Role

Chapter 1

There are many beginnings. This one starts on the eastern road.

A carriage heads west from the desert city of Hamsah, it is cold and raining
and this particular carriage, a prisoner transport trudges on relentlessly
through the weather toward Galadon. As lightning strikes and lights up the sky
several figures can be seen within the carriage. Three armor clad guards sit
quietly with a third figure, a female covered in simple robes. Her dark elven
features can be discerned through the cowl of her hood, she is beautiful...and
silent as if resolute and accepting of the events to come.

The carriage makes it to Galadon and a conversation is had between the guards
and an official of Galadon. Much more is at play here than a normal prisoner
exchange.

The dark elf female is lead to the entrance to the sewers. One foot in front of
the other she marches into the abyss. The familiar smell of dampness and refuse
is pungent. The glint of a small dagger can be seen as one of the guards
removes a dagger from his belt and stabs the female dark elf in the back. Her
lips are silent as she falls into a sewer drain. Silently and endlessly she
falls into darkness. She thinks for a moment "This is the end".

The dark elf falls if almost endlessly into the sewers of Galadon. Her body is
washed outside along the currents, as she clutches her stomach you realize
there is much more at stake then just the life of an exile.

Her body washes against the currents as she tries to remain conscious. A
cloaked figure plucks her from the waters and deeper inside the sewers they
travel. The figure is gentle yet firm as they move through the tunnels until
they reach a small alcove. He rips a peace of cloth from her robes and places
his hand upon her stomach. He can feel something move within. This dark elf is
with child.

The cloaked figure removes his sword and places the hilt of his blade within
the dark elven females mouth and nods. She bites down harshly as she knows what
must be done. As if trained in these maters the cloaked figure removes a dagger
form his wares and slices her open removing the babe growing within her. A
child is born. The cloaked figure raises the small boy above his head offering
a dark prayer. As he utters the prayer the dark elven woman's wounds heal as
shadowy like tendrils writhe about her punctured body.

The alcove is quiet and for a short moment Vezzerax knows the only peace he
will ever know.

Role

Chapter 2

Vezzerax's childhood was one of harshness and difficulty. His mother's wounds
never truly healed and so he had to learn not only to care for himself but to
care for his mother as well. He would venture up through the sewers and onto
the streets from time to time but he was met with rejection. The townspeople
had no tolerance for filthy street rats let alone a half breed. And so he
scratched a living from begging where he could and scavenging.

He had learned from his mother that she was once a prisoner of Hamsah, a dark
elven matron who was captured during a night time raid on the "surface" as she
called it. These types of exploratory raids are common among the drow. Or so
his mother told him. While imprisoned in Hamsah she was subject to brutal
mistreatment from the guards. And eventually she became pregnant. Vezzerax's
father however was no ordinary guard but a ranking officer of the guard. And
this type of behavior was strictly forbidden among the Sultans commanders.

Rather than suffer the shame of knowing he had a sired a child of a dark elf
prisoner the captain made a deal with an official of Galadon. They would
transport her away from Hamsah and "dispose" of her quietly and none would be
the wiser.

Desperate to escape the confines of the sewers and rise above his current
standing Vezzerax had to make a choice. A choice of survival. He could not
continue to care for both himself and his mother. It was perhaps a miracle his
mother was able to do so alone for the younger years of his life. Rather than
abandoning his mother totally and allowing her to waste away he decided he
would end her suffering. He waited till she was asleep and slit her throat.
Strangely he felt no sadness in the act. He only felt as if a weight was
lifted from his shoulders.

Vezzerax gathered what little items he had and left the sewers. He ended up
within the forests surrounding Galadon. He learned to survive quite
efficiently in wilds. He lived off the land and would stare at the lights of
the city at night a seething hatred growing within him of this so called
"civilized" beacon of life. Perhaps for the first time ever he felt victorious
in his accomplishments. He had risen above scratching a life out in the sewers
and he was quite at home in the wilderness.

For many years he lost himself within the forests, with no direction other than
to survive.

Role

Chapter 3

One evening Vezzerax was traveling through the Feanwyyn Weald into Silverwood,
he was going to make camp for the evening and had built a small fire to prepare
some food when a cloaked man emerged from the brush and stood before him.

The figure stood silently for some time as if studying the young half breed.
Vezzerax moved for an old sword he had found not knowing the intentions of this
man but as he snapped up the blade the figured waved his hand and spoke.

"I have watched you for some time young one..it was even I who brought you into
this world. It is time you chose a path in life. I will promise you nothing.
I can only pass on the knowledge I have and you must decide on your own how you
will use it."

Vezzerax contemplated the cloaked man's words for a time and then nodded. The
old mystic had agreed to take on Vezzerax as an apprentice.

He was taught about the Immortal Lords of the heavens. He learned about the
elements and virtues and to draw power from the divine. However he could only
draw so much power without gaining the blessings of a true Lord. The mystic
was wise and told Vezzerax to look deep within himself for inspiration. The
only real inspiration Vezzerax had he thought was to try and obtain Victory in
all endeavors. By gaining Victory over his many goals he would define himself
as an individual and strive to become more.

So he studied for years until the wise old man could teach him no more. As a
parting gift the old man prepared a concoction of sorts. Vezzerax was told
this mixture once consumed...would give him visions into his future and
enlighten him about this path. The old man warned him however that once
consumed he could not undo what would transpire.

And so Vezzerax climbed to the highest peak he could find. He built a great
fire and began the ritual of consuming the mixture. Vezzerax immediately
became ill after drinking the potent concoction. His stomach churned and
before he realized it his eyesight began to afix itself on the flames of the
fire. The flames danced and spun like he had never experienced before. The
tree's below his camp swayed and swirled with strange fluidity.

High upon the peak he could see for miles. To his left he saw the lights of
Galadon and to his right as the land became desert he saw the beacons of
Hamsah. To his left he saw what he perceived as the city of Galadon being
raised to ashes, the screams of its people rising like the distant sound of
thunder. To his right he saw a great sandstorm engulfing the high walls of
Hamsah. He finally feinted from intense effects of the concoction as his mind
could handle no more.

When he awoke it was morning, the fire had faded from the night before and the
sun was rising to the east. He now had a sense of purpose. He would seek a
powerful deity, one aligned with his inner sense of Victory.
And he would seek the Desolation of the civilized.

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