Izratulah the Spectre

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Racial Edges

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Edges

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Timeline

Leveling History

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PK Statistics

PK Gank-O-Meter

Immortal Comments

Role

Chapter 1

The three mountain kingdoms teetered upon the edge of a knife, the life
of peace they enjoyed was veiled thinly with accusation and aggressions.
It was how life had been for generations. The far north domain was harsh
and although these communities shared no love for each other, they were
forced to rely on each other intimately for survival. Trade was the life
blood of these kingdoms, each providing the other with a lacked resource
that allowed them to survive as the harsh winters mercilessly desolated
the innocence of the north.

Though change was upon the air this year and depending on perspective it
was either welcomed with open arms or rejected with the length of drawn
sword. A wedding was about to take place and form a union between two of
the three great northern strongholds. A brief time of peace would follow
this union as tensions began to rise amongst the outcast factions. There
were whispers of revolution and uprising from those who stuck to the old
ways with the grim determination granted to those hardened by the north.

Spring time arrived with the sounds and scents of sheltering iron. A war
was upon the horizon but for their greatest threat was yet to reveal her
claim upon death. With her life came death, Izratulah they named her for
the curse she would bring. Plague spread amongst the northern kingdom as
the uprising clashed with with full force upon the noble rampart and the
idea of final vengeance filled their hearts with rage and sorrow. Death
walked that day, scythe in hand - for whatever life survived the culling
of iron was claimed by the cruel embrace of the plague.

The soldiers made it to the royal chambers where figures lay tortured in
death with the ravenous visage of plague. Blood kissed naked blades as a
weak light betrayed the presence of a bassinet in the corner of the dark
chambers. If their kingdoms were to fall, at least let this be vengeance
granted to appease their loss. They stalked like wolves in the mist, but
there was no life in this room but theirs. The bassinet lay empty, the
child was gone.

And the order they all once cherished had been sacrificed for nothing...

Role

Chapter 2

Smoke mingled with the mists as the wet nurse smuggled the defiled child
from outbreak of war and plague that illuminated the mountains beyond in
a ravenous hue of red. Blood was shed upon the night claimed by death.
She removed her cloak from herself and covered the shivering child with
the embroidered emblem of the scythe. It was the emblem of their people,
for they were blessed enough to born into the fields of prosperity. The
cold, harsh northern lands had few mercies as grand as these fields that
had fed families for generations as well as provided them the most power
and influence in the north.

Though this was a legacy that Izratulah would leave behind. She would be
raised with nothing but the cloak of her mother and the dark impartation
of defiled memories upon her mind. She would obsess about death. Despise
the unruly. She would take meaning from the scythe and obsess about the
plague that brought about the destruction of her utopia. The trauma of
that night would linger with her like the whispering wind to the haunted
soul of innocent death and it would turn her into the abominable.

A legacy of reaping grain would soon became one of reaping souls. It was
only a matter of time until she began studying the arts of necromancy,
just as it was only a matter of time until she was drawn to the Spire as
it stood proudly for her unrealised dreams. What would happen next for
the young mistress of death? Only time would reveal the vengeance of her
black heart as she aspires to create unquestionable order upon the land
and home she now knows as Thera.