Scyreth Duskmaw the Ravener of Dreams

Role

Chapter 8

Scyreth's regression of losing his humanity and becoming more beastial has been
compounded by the fact that he has learned he is a dream and a phantom and that
he does not really exist. He has twisted it in such a way in his mind that he is
now in belief that Ergush, the Tree, and the Ancients have tried to deceive him
by saying he had a place in Thar-Eris. As his mind began to repeatedly focus on
the bark he came to terms that it was a deception by the Ancients and their way
to hold back their "children" from becoming Gods. Take a little from her, but do
not take it all. Scyreth stared at an apple tree with a plethora of glistening
red apple dangling upon the branches. Why should he save the seeds to promote
life to grow anew? So he ate every apple, every seed, every leaf, and finally
burned that apple tree and its roots. Like a ravenous beast full of anger and
feeling betrayed by the Tree for their lies, he attacked and killed the Huntress
and then disposed of the Spirit. He took the fetish and gave it to the Scion of
and then disposed of the Spirit. He took the fetish and gave it to the Scions of
Eternal Night as his pledge and pact. That he would devour "everything" without
a leash holding him back, or a code forbidding his cravings. That HE would indulge
in the fruits of the world and consume them to have his place as a God when the
Night falls. The Nightwalker gave him the name for his pledge of Duskmaw, for
within the dream and in between night and night where Scyreth lurks. He waits
with an open maw to consume every and all things.

Role

Chapter 7

Scyreth has finally hunted down and feasted
upon the druid Nastrella. The Spire has kept
her safely tucked away from him, however he
was able to separate her from them and devour
her whole. Tristhana had vowed not to allow
Scyreth to harm Nastrella, but failed in the
pursuit. Scyreth recognizes Tristhana as a
Priestess of the Giver Morius, however Scyreth
sees her envious of his gluttonous and free
lifestyle and nothing more then a crumb of grain
in his eyes.

Scyreth has been slowly de-evolving into a
more beastial from. This is evident listening
to his speech patterns and choice of words. The
hunger has become increasingly difficult to
sate, however he felt a powerful presence that
was not the Giver Moris, who has provided a
means for him to eat. Scyreth was transported
away to a mysterious place surrounding an altar.
He smelt the scent of Tissie's son Lonfederic
and his natural instincts as a predator took
over and he quickly devoured his unsuspecting
and unprepared prey in a rushing assault. It
was during this feeding that Scyreth witnessed
what transpired with Lonfederic upon the altar.
Scyreth knows he is the only living being to
survive this ordeal and not dissipate into a
mote of life. His cunningness will come to play
here as he manipulates this information to his
advantage to lure in more prey for a hearty meal.
However, Scyreth enjoys eating the flesh of
Nastrella, if this "being" takes his meal from
him permanently, he will stop at nothing to
destroy this being. He does not like anyone
touching his food and this will be the ultimate
circumstance that would pull him from self
serving to helping with the problem. He knows
he might have to go back to that place and his
own survival is before anything else as it was
his key to escaping.

Role

Chapter 6

Morsels:

Scyreth has met the giver of flesh Morius, and indulged
him by bringing a paladin named Stahl to him. Scyreth
tricked the paladin to come for a feast. Once the guise
of Scyreth's intentions were known, Stahl had hoped to
stir hope and change with Scyreth, and neither here nor
the Giver Morius would have anything of it. Stahl was
slain by the Giver and Scyreth feasted on his flesh.

Scyreth has become part of the Tree of the Outlanders.
His morbid tendencies and desire for flesh has shaken
some of the Outlanders to their core and are naturally
fearful of him. Scyreth has grown to desire Tissie's
flesh and her son Lonfedric as well because of their
sickening love and compassion they share. When Scyreth
told Lonfedric that he desired his mothers entrails, he
threatened Scyreth and now he craves Tissie's flesh even
more.

Scyreth despises the Nightreaver Ivylok, as he sees him
as a weakness to the branch. He likens him to a rabbit
squealing in distress and nothing more then prey. When
the opportunity arises, Scyreth will take advantage of
it and devour him.

As Scyreth soared the skies one day, he caught a familiar
scent carried on the winds. The girl he had hunted years
ago and has gone missing from him. The scent of flowers.
The scent of sweet and tender flesh. He longed for it. He
missed it. And he craved it. He soared through the skies
following the scent and tracked it to Voralian city. He
remembered the last time he had seen her and the guards
of the Spire protecting her. He flew to the Tribunal pillar
in Voralian city and there the trail ended. So, she had
joined the Tribunal. Soaring through the skies and in a
rage of pure hunger, Scyreth assaulted the Captain of the
Spire who had the scent of the girl on him. A fleshly slave
the Spire made Scyreth a criminal and questioned his actions.
Scyreth tricked the Magistrate in revealing the name of
the girl. Nastrella.. Such a beautiful name. Succulent it
was to Scyreth. Like tender pork falling of the bone. He
longs to have her and her elusiveness drives his hunger
for her.


Entrails:

It is becoming increasingly apparent that every person's
flesh that Scyreth feasts on is becoming a part of him.
Voices can be heard uttering forth from the bowels of his
stomach pleading to him of their death and consumption.
Some think him mad, confused, or just a rabid beast. But
he knows he draws power from their flesh and blood. Like an
addict he is addicted and must absorb more within him in
vain attempt to sate his hunger and always wanting more.

Scyreth has learned from the milkmaid of Tir-Talath of
strange dreams people are having. Stars in the sea rising
like bubbles from depths. Dreams and nightmares of eyes
watching from the skies and beasts coming up from within
the earth and eating its prey. Such talk only incited and
indulged Scyreth's cravings. So he ate the milkmaid and
sucked down her entrails.

Role

Chapter 5

emerged from the wagon bearing the insignia of the Blood Tribunal. Anger filled the soul
of Scyreth as he paced just beyond the treeline circling the wagon over and over again.
He clattered and howled in anger like a caged animal as the guard stood over the wagon
until sunset. Scyreth retreated back into the deep woods filled with pain and rage.
He could smell her inside the wagon. He could taste her. He HAD her ripe for the picking.

But THEY kept her from me...

Order:

Due to the two events that Scyreth recalls from his past involving the young girl and
members of the city guard and Tribunal, he has the utmost hatred for anyone wearing a
badge or symbols of Order. He relates them to protecting and harboring his prize and
that they are all intertwined together in a mass conspiracy to keep her from him. It
has become so delusional from an addict's view that in his twisted head he can find a
connection from the very coins being used to the laws held in each region. All are acts
of altruism set in place to keep her from him. This is the reason Scyreth has begun to
support the cause of the Outlanders. He can burn down the walls of order and the ones
of civilization that harbor and care for his sweet meat he longs for.

Role

Chapter 4

Survival:

Scyreth learned to hunt and survive from his mother at an early age. Though memories
have faded in time, it has become such a natural instinct that he has survived on his
own away from civilization and has adapted to mimic the predators of the wilds. His
mother also instilled into him the importance of the elements that is free to plunder.
Foremost being that of fire. He learned to kindle the wood to call forth the flames.
He vaguely remembers putting it to use when he was young so his mother and him could
secure supplies. They snuck into the city of Seantryn Modan from the sewers and set a
fire to a one of the wealthy's houses. Enduring the flames, young Scyreth and his
mother ransacked the house for supplies as the house occupants fled the domicile.
The fire spread to other nearby houses as screams erupted into the night. Scyreth's
mother picked him up and ran for their escape as the Seantryn guard filled in with
Tribunal guard to douse the fires. As they slipped into the sewers, Scyreth peered
at the destruction fires raging. It was then he felt his first insatiable yearning
of hunger. Two Tribunal Magistrates were ushering a young girl away from a burnt-out
building as she lay limp and unconscious in their arms.

Gluttony:

The yearning Scyreth felt that day when he gazed upon the young girl was uncontrollable.
Like a rabid beast ready to burst out from his flesh to devour hers. The smoothness of
her skin, the subtle pulsating of her neck as her heart beat, fueled his addiction and
he wanted her. He felt like he wanted her more than anything else. In his mind, nothing
would ever satisfy his craving until he could taste her sweet flesh. What joys would he
find in her? Her very being consumed by him. She becoming one with him. Forever...

Scyreth remembers the longing for this girl and stalking her, but his shattered memories
reflect upon only two instances where he can picture her face. The above, and yet again
when he was a teenager prowling the woods and he caught her scent on the wind. His lips
watered, his member stirred, and his hunger roared with excitement. Her scent increased
as she drew near and Scyreth hurried building a crude trap along the main trail cutting
through the forest. A huge covered wagon drawn by a pair of prized horses rushed along
the trail at a fast pace, as if in a hurried panic. The horses stumbled forward as both
of their front legs were cut clean off by an unseen wire stretching across the road. The
wagon flipped up as its wheels hit several strewn logs in its path and landing on its
side. Scyreth pounced from the treeline upon the wailing horses, tearing into the flesh
of their throats to silence their screams and darted back to the darkness of the trees.
Silence filled the woods as moonlight illuminated the wagon and the white horses now
stained crimson laying limp nearby. Suddenly, one by one, a dozen heavily armed guards

Role

Chapter 3

Mindset:

Scyreth is an opportunistic and cunning predator. His eyes see one thing and one
thing only when they look at someone. His next meal. He lacks any remorse or any
moral boundaries in regards to achieving the means to sate his hunger. The taste
of blood and meat is his drug and his actions as his hunger increases displays the
behavior of a typical addict. He is methodical, but his unquenchable hunger borders
upon insanity. He has begun to hear voices in his head of his victims and will
slowly increase the more people he consumes.


Humanity:

All forms of empathy are void in the heart of Scyreth. Compassion, friendship, and
good will are all burdens that make such flesh easy prey. He detests any form of
benevolence and will find a way to make them scream and suffer. His aversion to all
loving bonds is rooted to his relationship with his mother. She NEVER showed him an
ounce of love and her mental and physical abuse molded him to what he is now. One of
the few memories he has that laid the foundation of his distain for morality is him
at a young age trying to steal jerky from the stall of an vendor in an unknown city.
The merchant caught him and backhanded Scyreth, as a spray of blood erupted into the
air. The memory is foggy, but he remembers a young boy and his parents standing nearby.
All of which dressed in apparel of nobility, the parents pulled their son closer to
them away from the bleeding Scyreth to shield their child as the vendor repeatedly
beat him. Scyreth's eyes, swelling with tears, gazed directly at the boy's own for any
form of solace or compassion. However, the boy quickly turned and buried his face in
his mother's side to avoid seeing the pain and bloodshed. And in the mind of Scyreth..

He showed him no compassion....

Mother:

Scyreth's mother was just as wicked if not more so then him. What memories he has of
her and his youth are fragmented pieces like shards of glass in his head. Within the
darkness of his mind, his earliest memory of his mother was her murdering his father
when he was but a toddler and feeding him his stomach. He remembers the bitter taste
on his tongue, yet the blood was sweet. Real sweet. He only knows he enjoyed it and
wanted more. Bite after bite he remembers devouring his father's flesh as a chorus
of beastly howls echoed in harmony from the surrounding darkness with each bite. It
will increasingly become apparent that Scyreth has mother issues and CAN be manipulated
by a strong motherly figure. He was never good enough for her and always pushed to
the brink of pain to please her. This can be used to someone's advantage. Scyreth does
not remember what happed to his mother. The more he tries to remember the darker it
becomes and the details of her face fades more.

Role

Chapter 2

The bubbling increased in the pot. My lips salivated and my stomach ached.
I rose from my seat, ignoring the heat of the lid on my palm, I lifted it
off and submerged the ladle into the bubbling soup. I blew gently and to
my lips I raised the spoon and sipped. Glorious it tasted. Gulping down
the broth my throat burned but I endured. Then a potato, a carrot, and a
onion twice over again. Releasing the spoon I sat back on stone fulfilled.
I looked up at the slender man opposite me and smiled. Leaning forward I
offered the spoon towards him to share this wonderful meal. Lifting the
spoon I felt pained, my hand cramping at the palm. My stomach bubbling
in unison with the contents of the pot. I stood and the flames of the fire
swirled. The darkness around me began to dance. My breath labored. My heart
fluttered. My eyes heavy. I feel cold and.....

Mother always said, "Purest is the meat which is fresh and sweet."

"And this stew is ready for some fresh meat."

Rising from the slab of stone, the slender figure unsheathes a sharp
knife from his belt and begins walking towards the now sleeping traveler
with a ravenous look in his eyes.

"Stew's on."

Role

Chapter 1

Flakes of snow pelt against frozen cheeks, clinging to my eyelashes
and hair. Numbs exposed skin, pain in my fingertips and toes, creates
an exhausting chore to break a trail through the rising snow drifts.
Shivering, teeth begin to chatter and my lips hug each other to stay
warm. My breath warms my face briefly before being sucked away again
by the cold. Dry, my throat aches from thirst and cold. Rumbling, my
stomach yearns for food as it has been days since my last morsel. The
wind cuts through my clothing, watering the eyes and forcing them into
a squint. Discomfort arises from snow drifting down the collar of my
coat, into my shoes and boots, and between my gloves and cuffs. I have
been lost in this blizzard for days and can't...

A light ahead.

I see it. Is that a fire?

The warmth, the comfort begins to invigor me. I can make it. I know it.

It was a cave mouth of impenetrable blackness, save for the faint glow
of a few embers, prey to the surrounding darkness ready to devour them.
As I stepped in I watched my shadow cast by the moonlight dissolve into
the darkness. It was dank and the only sound dripping water. I sat next to
the embers and blew with what breath I had to give them life. Their glow
pushed back the consuming darkness. I spotted a pile of brush wood near
my feet and hope stirred in me. Praise the gods of mercy and compassion!

One by one one I snapped the twigs adding to the embers as a flame began
to bounce and twist revealing an iron cooking pot hanging overhead. The
mind races for what could be. I lift the head and my mouth waters. Inside
the pot, carrots, onion, and potatoes red and white. I could heat this up
quickly and finally eat and fill my stomach. This place was deserted long
ago, but this pot full of morsels is still good, even warm still. Then my
eyes catch another surprise. A pile of logs stacked neatly just near a
stone slab set by the fire. I rest my weary bones on the stone and begin
sacking logs into the fire as it blazes brighter and brighter. Visions of
the tasty contents muddles the mind, but is quickly stirred back to reality.

My eyes squint as they catch movement. A slender figure emerges from the
darkness. He sits down quietly on a slab of rock opposite of the fire and
me. Not a word spoken. Not a greeting to be had. We both sat and stared at
the cooking pot above the fire. I kept my seat and kept quiet, focusing
only on the bubbling contents of my meal. Was he a traveler like myself
finding refuge from the cold or was he here to take my meal?

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