Zelroth the LightSlayer

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Role

Chapter 4

It has been many years since Zelroth decided to walk from the "great"
school for warriors in Balator. A decision not made lightly but a
decision that has never been regretted.

It has been an interesting journey with the choices made, dedicating
himself so wholely towards Magic he has found an interesting bond between
himself and others that share the same passion. Respect for the time
to study has been held between most Theran races Giant, Duergar, Elf, Gnome
this respect has been shown in return. Not a single soul has broken
the bond of Magic and Honesty.

It is an interesting blend a warrior and a mage, some of the more brutal
lessons remaining but some of the finer points lost or incomplete. Having
always had a love of the spear and staff, only half this lessons tactics
have remained, tho a cruder form of the warrior specialization has been
learnt through the Anti-Paladin guild. But then suplementing these cruder
warrior trainings with vastly superior Magical crafts. It has made for a
leathal combination.

As for the Warriors left behind, well despite all the chest beating and
talk of honour it has yet to be seen in any of Thryms students that grace
the Battle village. Their blindness and lack of opening themselves to
greater challenges of magic and the discipline of mind has made them sloppy.
Much like Thrym they talk of an honurable fight but often fight in numbers
of two or three, even calling in Paladin aid of healing. Yet the one lesson
that sticks true from the Warrior school is the strength of one against many
so Zelroth will let them come and he will continue to keep driving them back
outsmarting them and putting them back in their place. Just as Kryldor did
when he lay the school to waste Zelroth shall continue and will not stop
until the village lays in a pile of ash on the ground.

Time does have its burdens and impact, and it forever shapes who someone is
and who they are yet to become. These dual studies and the smell of death
which surrounds him sullens a man, the mark of destruction and pain for
others now well burned into his soul. But his studies hold him sane, swayed
from Order but not completely into Chaos (Where it is most likely his Magic
would blow up in his face) he is free to decide when and were this destruction
is to occur.

Role

Chapter 3

Zelroth fidgets a little in a school of warriors beads of sweat
betray a nervousness, for one who has yet to place any major
level of effort in for the day. Dressed in a padded vest, a practice
swords is gripped firmly in his main hand, his other a wooden
practice shield. Wedged behind one of the handholds is a small
cloth bundle. A a paper label barely visibe between the cloth
folds with the word booster attached to the vial within.

Across the room stands a large fire giant, a large grin across his
face teeth bared as he sneers the words.

"Ready to shit your pants again little girl."

As a bead of sweet begins to fall from his nose, Zelroth watches it
it fall, his heightened senses seeming to slow time to a standstill.
Thrym's word "Begin" taking an eternity to draw from his mouth as the
bead of sweat slowly ruptures across the ground.

Zelroth meets a powerful blow with his shield as his body absorbs the
energy with his body, coiled like a spring he unleashes raising upward
as he spins the sword in his hands. Sword hilt meets jaw with a
satisfying crack of bone, as the giant is lifted 2 feet clear from
the ground. As zelroth straightens he shows no sign of progressing
forward with much more than a few words.

"I do believe I smell a little poo giant. I assure you it is not my
own."

Role

Chapter 2

Thrym yells 'Die, foul user of magic!'
Thrym says 'To my side, my students, and together our might will
triumph!'

The anti-paladin Kryldor stands at the entrance to the warrior
school, and with a fluid movement of his wrist cracks his whip
as he utters a small phrase hurling a ball of fire through the
doorway. Somewhat heavy on his feet, but muscles bulging with
of the damned, Kryldor lays a few damaging blows before vanishing
into thin air a small rod on his person exploding as he does so.

Thrym grunts something incomprehensible, not amused by his
circumstances, as he lifts his right hand to smother an ember
that has started to take on his tunic. He peers around the room
taking note of the damage before stepping through the door.

"Classes finished."

Role

Chapter 1

Zelroth stands in a large room with a high ceiling, and smooth
wooden walls and floors. Surrounding him are other warrior
students of all kinds, human, giant, dwarven, elven, stand around
a large figure in the center of the room. Heavily muscled and
drapped in furs and trophies, a simple look reveals even to those
from lands that can only be reached by ship, that this cloud giant
is the one and only Thrym. His warrior school highly renowned
for constantly producing hardened fighters.

Peering round the room Thrym lets out a grunt raising his skull
sword and motioning to several points in the room. Quickly the
students move and set in a warrior pose.

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