Provuk the Sanguinary Offspring, Breathless Brother, Imperial Dread Lord

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Role

Chapter 14

The years had passed. So much had changed. It was a haze to him now. He was
once a man, but no more. A Dread Lord of the mighty Empire. What did that
mean? Sometimes the days of his mortal life hazed together. Confusion had
taken its root in him. He was not dead, but he was not truly alive either. He
was a creature fueled by blood, by the water of life. It flowed through his
veins and empowered him, sated his endless desire to feed on the creatures
around him. Part of him had died when he felt the fangs sink into his neck. He
thought he would be welcomed as a brother, A member of the Comrades
Consanguine that he had sought out for so much of his life. When the venom and
blood flowed through his veins, the church rejected him with hatred and
jealousy. He dared not return to the church, perhaps he had stolen what was
not rightfully his. He did not know.

He returned to take his seat in the Imperial council now, a shell of what he
once was, a vessel carrying many new powers and questions. He was one with
them all. His sister Nina, his parents, all of those he had killed and fought
beside as they died or aged away. He was finally of all paths. He understood
the words he had heard from Wood-and-Bones. The water of life was everything.
It sustained him, but he could no longer produce it himself. The endless
desire to feed and feel the life force within him again surged through his
veins. Would he perish in the sun? Would his goddess reject and refuse him in
his new form? He felt more alive than ever, but empty, hollow. The feeling was
new, and he was frightened. He knew very little of himself. Of his urges. He
was hollow and yearned to be filled. His mind was open, he would need to learn
to live all over again. Was it worth it? He was one with his sister again, he
had an awareness that he had never dreamed possible. Thera would not accept
him for what he was, but he would continue. His hunger was not only for blood.
Something else drove him, something darker, something with hidden desires.
What would become of him? What would the Empire make of his new form?
Questions, questions. There was no satisfaction, only the hunger and drive to
be one with the waters of life. A master of Necromancy, and he knew so little
of death he felt like a novice. It would take time. What was time? So many
questions, and only the future would hold them. The visions were muddled
dreams now, he had no clarity when he drank the blood anymore. His fate was
unclear. For the first time in his life, he felt true fear. Instead of
crushing him, it empowered him, drove him. One day he would understand. One
day he would know. For now, there was only the blood, the water of life, and
the hazy visions of destiny and fate the clouded his mind. Oh Nina, What have
I done?

Role

Chapter 13

Provuk had been busy the last few years. Sometimes it seemed he stood still
while the world moved around him, He was absorbent, watching others and taking
in the knowledge like a sponge. He had had success in some areas, the creature
Wood-and-Bones at the Dead Tree had decided to help him learn more about the
cycle, not just the aspects of life, and death. For the first time, he was
learning about the soul, and the journey of the spirit. It was fascinating to
him, so much more to learn, and so much more for him to learn about his art
through such things. He had thought of the dead only as empty husks to use
after their journeys were over. The soul, or spirit, was so much stronger than
any husk or mortal shell. And the stronger the spirit, the stronger the man. A
driven man was nearly unstoppable. That driving force could make a weak husk
solid as a stone. Perhaps that was why so many of his guild sought forms of
undeath. To create strong shells to match their equally powerful spirits It
was an interesting thought. So many of his guild were so eager to risk their
lives for the promise of immortality, and so many would fail. It seemed a
silly risk to take when there was so much power held in life and the spirit
itself. He thought often about the connection of the spirit world to Thera,
and how they are all connected with the river. Things he pondered and wondered
about during his conquests across Thera.

His growth and success had not come without failure. He had lost his seat as
Dread Lord, a dangerous spell missing its target and striking the imperial
Warlock, his army mindlessly crushing the Warlock in seconds. His demotion was
fair in his eyes. He had lost the seat of Dread Lord, rightfully so by an
amateur mistake. These last years he had learned more about necromancy than
the rest of his entire life combined. His new insights on the process of life
and the spirit cycle, and how they connect to death have brought him dangerous
clarity to his focus on his dark art. But so many were ignorant to such
things, where he had his visions through the blood. He was learning and taking
in knowledge every day in life, and his understanding of death had never been
stronger. He would continue his search for answers in the visions, his lack of
clarity had been maddening to him. Only when he visited the Drowned tree did
he float between spaces, clear of mind entirely. He had to focus now. There
was a council seat he must take back, he would be Dread Lord once again.

Role

Chapter 12

Provuk had no desire to rob the river of souls, to think he was so strong that
he could change the great cycle that governed all things. But the shells the
dead left behind were his to claim. The spirits did not need their bodies once
they made their journey to the beyond. Still, his visions were clear. Blood
must have blood. He trusted his omens, they had led him to a place in life
where he was pleased and happy to serve in the Empire. He believed in the
Empire, and his place as Dread Lord. But it was all still a means to an end
for him. One day he too would return to the river, and he would be a husk,
whether a peasant or a Dread Lord. His path had led him to greater things, but
he knew in time all things would end. He lived each day knowing that, not
under the illusion that he was ready to die, yet he desired to live. He
enjoyed the mortal confines of this world so much that in time, he would
follow his visions to his fate to borrow more time for this world. Power,
insight, wisdom and omens had come to him in his years. He hoped to have many
more before being called away when it was his time. It was not his time yet
though, his visions were painfully clear. He would walk his path still,
serving the Empire and bringing about the rise of the Black Sect. In time, the
insight from the Goddess would hopefully shed some light on whether he was
cursed, or blessed with these visions.

Role

Chapter 11

Provuk had continued down his path of visions in the blood. He often wondered
if he was not blessed, but cursed with the vision of sight. He had served the
Empire well as a Black, and the Dread Lady Baalzira had gone to the ghoul
tunnels for mummification, and met the true death. He admired Baalzira and
prayed that her journey back to the river of souls had been insightful for her
as she met her end. She was hasty however and Provuk had no desire to meet his
end yet. He enjoyed his life within the Empire. He had now found his place as
the new Dread Lord, the most powerful Black in Thera. Of all the paths his
road could have taken him down, he was now on the council of the Empire.

He was filled with purpose in his life, but was still haunted by his visions
of the church at the edge of the Dale, and the shadowed creature with fangs.
He was no fool, he knew the creature he was seeing was a Vampyre. Perhaps
death circled him, testing him. Provuk however had no desire to go to death,
or undeath so swiftly however. Even undeath, the most power you can gather as
a Necromancer, was just another path that life could lead him down. He had
much life in himself to live, and he desired to live that life to his fullest.
He prayed often to the Goddess Rarywey for insight, he had seen her drowned
tree in his visions many times. Her guidance was something he sought, for she
was the master of the river. She had seen Death in its true form as well, as
he had. He was still strong in his magic, and raised the dead for his own
purposes. But these were soulless husks, nothing but rotting flesh.

Role

Chapter 10

Provuk had saved some elven blood in a seal vial topped with wax from his last
kill, keeping it from coagulating with a concoction of his own creation
through trial and error from blood of the dead. He needed this blood, elven
blood was the strongest blood for granting visions of what was to come. He was
in need of a vision now, guidance for the days to come. The journey was only
getting harder, testing the boundaries of even his fortitude. In the sect hall
of the Black, he popped the wax off the vial, drank its contents, and drifted
off to sleep.

He opened his eyes in a foggy haze. He was no longer in the sect hall, but in
a cemetery. The Dale cemetery, in front of a strange building resembling a
church of sorts. The sky was blood red with an orange sun, and the ground had
black tendrils of decay growing up all around his feet. There was a light fog
in the air, as he stood before the church looking at its doors. He noticed he
was not alone. He turned around, and saw an army of the dead. All of the
beings he had killed and tasted their blood. His enemies, those that stood in
his way, his parents, and even his sister Nina, the first human blood he had
ever tasted. All of them stood there, pale faced with black eyes. They gazed
at him unmoving, staring at him with their soulless eyes. He moved to his
sister, but no matter how often he walked towards her, he never got closer.
The eyes of all the dead before him started to drip tears of blood, pooling in
circles at their feet. In unison, they raised their hands and pointed past
him, where the church he was standing before was. When he turned around, the
church was gone, there was only a dark figure shrouded in shadows where it had
been. The beings features were indiscernible, but in the darkness, a pair of
glistening white fangs protruded from the darkness. Drops of blood began to
drip from them, and a dark gaping hole where its mouth would be opened up,
spraying and covering Provuk with a mist of blood from head to toe. There was
a soundless shriek as it shot blood from its fangs, deafening in pure silence.
The dark figure cackled, and dispersed into the shadows, and all was silent in
the cemetery again. He was alone, the red sky shining down on him.

He awoke from his vision in the Black sect in a sweat, startled and confused.
The vision had not been as clear as the rest, but he was certain there was
meaning to it. He had not seen his sister in a vision ever, nor had he ever
had a vision that shook him to his core like this one did. He was not just on
a path of death, he was becoming a part of death. It was foreboding, and
terrifying at the same time. The power of death had touched him in its truest
form for the first time, and it left him feeling powerless and shaken.

Role

Chapter 9

Power. Death. Success. Provuk had reached a point in his magic where he was
comfortable. He was a master of many of the tedious studies of his guild, and
while his confidence had been shaken for a time, he was no longer finding
himself weak, but actually saw others beginning to fear him. Whispers of the
power of the Bloodsage had spread even to his enemies, as he often crushed
them and left their bodies broken and dismembered on the ground. No longer did
he lack confidence crushing his foes, or worrying about his weaknesses. Even
his enemies whispered of his power now, whispers that could be relayed to him
through his carefully set up network of spies outside of the Empire. He was an
Elite Warlock now, with the Dread Lady Baalzira going as far as to tell him
that he was her finest black, a compliment that he took immense pride in. The
Empire had provided him with strength, structure, and a home, one he would
never betray, an oath of blood was too sacred to him to ever consider it. The
visions had come back to him and he began to take lives again showing him
glimpses of the Lady Rarywey's water shrine, and of the church to the east in
the Dale Cemetery again. Though he sometimes fell back against some of his
champion enemies, he was confident going into most battles that he would win
the day. His dark magic had become very powerful. He began praying to his
goddess Rarywey once more, no longer worried that he did not understand death
or have a lack of ability to send the dead to her river of souls. The bodies
piled up, and surely she would see his contribution to the soul river. He had
learned how to call upon the drowned man, a difficult undead to create and a
sign he took that he was ready now to speak with his goddess. There was
plotting going on in the Empire, whispers of filling the seat of the Shadow
Lord and removing the Emperor. Provuk had no desire to be a part of outing the
Emperor, just as he had no plans of besting the Dread Lady for her seat. All
things would come in time. They were yet mortal, and he soon had plans to
visit the Sanguine church and seek the bite of the Master of Vampyres.
Politics were a dangerous game, and he often saw them as a distraction to his
dedication to the shadow sect and his study of death. He would be the Dread
Lord in time, he spoke well of the Dread Lady but a part of him deep inside
hoped she failed her quest to become dead so he might rise and take her place
without violence or making enemies within the Empire. The future was near, and
Provuk was ready for it, counting the days and he bode his time and worked his
magic by slaughtering the Enemies of the Empire.

Role

Chapter 8

both proud of his accomplishments, and frustrated with his shortcomings. He
had quietly studied, mastering his art beyond what most men did in his guild.
Even the longer lived races envied the speed at which the dark arts came to
his fingertips. He was a natural student of death, and he had brought it to
many souls. To dwarven villagers, to guildmasters, even to conjurer explorers.
Each of his victims is stronger than the last, but he had fallen short when he
had tried to conquer stronger prey. He yearned to taste the blood of an elven
paladin, or a savage of the tree. Each time he had attempted to take the life
of a true challenge, he had been defeated in battle. He was beginning to
understand he would never be a great warrior, and he would have to think more
like a Black to have more success in his hunting, not a blade, or even a
shadow. When it came to the duties of the Black sect, he had great success in
his endeavors, even garnering an audience and promotion from the lord Rillan
himself. This was a badge of honor he wore, and drove him to push harder for
further success. He swam in the waters from time to time of his Goddess, but
he had so much to learn about death, and he had not tasted strong blood in
some time. He yearned for a taste of the sort of blood that would give him
another vision. Finding prophecy in fresh blood was as much an art as
necromancy was to him, and he yearned for another taste. The visions were
earned though, not given, and he would have to dig deep within himself to find
the strength needed to take the blood he desired, and soon.

Role

Chapter 7

He had become worthy of the Black Sect. He had learned to animate the dead.
Provuk had become powerful indeed. He had earned the ability to raise the dead
from their graves, and defiling graves became a hobby of his. Fresh corpses
were preferred, ones with blood still in their muscles made for the strongest
creations. Rumors of the Bloodsage had spread about Thera. He was fierce,
deadly, and merciless. He cared for very few allies outside the Empire. The
Spire was a force that had aided him in filling the coffers, but even then,
his own hard work was his claim. The Elite Witch Baalzara had noticed him, and
told him she saw great things coming for him. Provuk had seen glimpses of all
this in the blood, he did not understand his connection to the sanguine
powers, but he knew something there was to be had. As the blood flowed, he
knew power. He knew strength. He had become more than a worthless oath in the
Empire, he was working his way to greater things. The goddess of death Rarywey
would surely notice him now when he swam in her waters, he had become a
harbinger of things to come. The Empire was small, but he would use their oath
of blood to rebuild it, make it stronger. He desired to shape it in his own
form, as much as possible. The more oaths he brought into the Empire and
showed the way, the more of them would have loyalties to him. He hoped to use
his connection to the blood to bring others in the Empire closer to them. His
power was rare, and the wonder of it held strength. He would continue to
climb, continue to bleed his enemies. His past was long gone, decayed away
into nothingness. There was only the future, the path before him. Darkness and
Order, paved with a path of blood and guts.

Role

Chapter 6

Provuk had braved the waters above the river of souls, the waters of the
Goddess Rarywey. Though they did not have time for a formal meeting, she was
aware of his intention to give to the river. He bled into her waters, bonding
himself to the Goddess. He had made two oaths with his blood now, to the
Empire, and to the Goddess of Death. He was dedicated to the Sanguine arts of
Necromancy, seeking rare and difficult rituals to improve his magics, to
separate him from the rest of his guild. He did not seek to be another
weakling to rise and fall. He would be different, he was certain. Few dared to
use their own blood for such dangerous and forbidden magic. His blood was
death, poisoned by the dark arts of Necromancy. He still fed on the blood of
his prey, performing crude experiments with the empty husks when he was done.
The visions came when he drank, glimpses of his fate, of the future. He saw
the cult, brief glimpses from around the world. There were many who dabbled in
the sanguine arts, many who performed blood rituals. He desired to seek them
out, and learn from them. If their knowledge would not be shared, he would
force it from him. Nothing would prevent him from the knowledge he sought, and
nothing would quench his desire to dabble with death. He gave his worldly
possessions to the coffers, eager to impress the Black Sect and the Emperor.
He would be a Black in due time, elevating his powers and his magic even
further than he had ever dreamed. He held no regrets in his life, he was often
void of emotion, thinking of only one thing, the one thing that mattered to
him. The forbidden arts of his guild. He studied in his guildhall by day,
forcing himself to become a lurker in the night, taking to the shadows and
graveyards in the witching hour. He was becoming heartless, ruthless.
Everything a Black of the Empire would need to be. There would be trials
ahead, but Provuk did not fear them. Others in the guild became calling him
the Bloodsage, few daring to speak to him, believing he was cursed. Provuk
enjoyed the name, it was fitting with the visions the blood gave him at times.
He took it as his house name, and his house would be great and powerful. The
Bloodsage would rise, and Thera would tremble before his darkness.

Role

Chapter 5

Provuk continued his march of darkness and quest for knowledge. Whispers
reached him of a Goddess of Death, and a river of souls. He had seen glimpses
of an underwater shrine in brief visions when he consumed the blood of the
dead. Perhaps a hallucination, perhaps he was becoming a sage of some sort. He
did not care one way or the next, he would meet his needs however he could.
The stench of death consumed him now. He had begun to make a name for himself
in the guild, the less experienced students feared him, and the older students
avoided him because of his known strange rituals. He was not like the rest of
his guild, he was becoming something different. Something more primal,
connected to death, connected to life. He was convinced it was the blood. If
this goddess was real, he would seek her. He would bathe himself in her
waters, and bring the blood unto them. He was confident he had been chosen for
something, surely the Goddess of death would know something of what his fate
had in store for him. The balance of life and death was simple to him, he knew
where the true power of life lay, and he knew how to manipulate that force to
serve him. He was determined not to let the rising tide of enemies that sought
his head get in his way.

He returned to his desert home, stronger now, more malicious than ever. He
started with his parents, slaughtering them mercilessly in the night, never
letting them wake from their sleep. He moved tent to tent, murdering the
desert people of the sands, and continued on to their sacred temple, murdering
their priests and monks. It was a bloodbath, and Provuk felt purpose in his
deeds. He had cleared himself of his past, of his ties to his former life.
There was only the future now, and whatever destiny had in store for him, he
would meet it with darkness and blood.

Role

Chapter 4

Provuk had become more confident. He did not confine himself to studying in
the city anymore, but he had begun his travels across the world. Library to
library, corpse to corpse. He had killed, but he did not do so just for the
sake of killing. It was ritualistic to him, the euphoric feeling he got when
he drank the blood of the dead, the blood of the fallen. He marked himself
with it, taking pride in wearing the life force of the dead across his body,
art of his own creation. He had been seeking, seeking a place worthy of his
dark powers. He needed allies, a vanguard to distract his enemies from him as
he worked his magic. His eyes turned to the Empire. They bound their citizens
to their army with a Blood Oath, which was appealing to Provuk. In a twisted
way, he found a sort of destiny in it. It did not matter if he was a lowly
blood oath or the Emperor of Thera, the Empire was a means to an end for him,
a way to work his magic and sate his dark desires. The Black sect was rumored
to be a place of dark power, and power called to Provuk. Power was the path to
knowledge, to the rituals of death and blood. He decided to bind himself to
the Empire, and take the risk by binding himself with blood to their
teachings. He admired the structure of the army, and knew that he would be
stronger as a force from within the ranks. Dark days lay ahead of him, but he
knew his magic would lead him to his fate, whatever that may be.

Role

Chapter 3

Provuk had grown some in the guild, little steps at a time. Magic was foreign
to him, but he had a natural talent for the unnatural. Perhaps it was his
twisted and methodical mind, but Necromancy felt like something that he was
born for, a natural path. Oddly enough, he did not grieve for his sister, or
for his family that banished him. He was cold to such emotions, she was just a
stepping stone to get where he was now. The city of Hamsah Mu'tazz was full of
vice and crime, and there was no shortage of corpses for the guild to purchase
for the students to study on. He had only worked with the dead, mostly, but he
yearned to take a life for himself, to witness the life drain from their eyes
as their blood stopped flowing freely. He remembered his sister, and the
darkness that overcame him in the moment of her death. He thought of the
blood. It was an addiction to him now, and he yearned for the next time he
would find himself in such a position.

He studied hard, it was not work to him, but pleasure. He was structured in
his studies, reading tirelessly into the night about death, and undeath. He
was fascinated. He felt no remorse in what he studied, in his cravings. Even
when people in the streets of the city frowned at him and looked at him with
disgust, he had a feeling of pride almost. It was as if their eyes were
shrouded from a great blessing, and he had pulled the shroud aside, and
accepted the truth of the world. All life ends, and blood is the source of
life. Blood must have blood, or there is no life. There was a power in blood
few understand, and he would seek the dark rituals forbidden to most men to
unlock the true secrets of life and death that many feared to ever learn. He
would search the darkest corners of Thera, and he would learn the most
forbidden secrets of his craft.

Role

Chapter 2

One day in the desert he was traveling with Nina. He was sixteen now, and she
was fourteen. They were maturing and often went on long walks to distract
Provuk from the darkness of his own thoughts and isolation. She had been
teaching him to fake himself to others, to conceal the darkness within to be
able to fit in. It had worked some, but he still was looked down upon by
others. They were hiking the cliffs near the Sands of Sorrow, a path they had
climbed up many times before to sit on the peak and look off the cliffs. Nina
was bolder than him, so she climbed first. Provuk was waiting for his turn to
climb, stepping on desert beetles when he heard a startled cry, and saw his
sister plummet down the path, crashing on a rock and hitting her head. She was
dead on impact.

Rather than immediately cry, or go to his sister to aid, Provuk slowly walked
over to her curiously. He had never seen a dead person before. He loved his
sister, and in his twisted mind he thought somehow, she would be ok with him
giving into his dark urges. He examined her cracked head, poking fingers
inside. He ran his fingers over her cracked bones, feeling the texture. He cut
her with his knife, desiring to feel the flesh open. And perhaps the most
twisted of all, he drank her blood. First a sip, then a mouthful. It was
salty, but satisfying. He felt alive, fulfilled. Blood was life. When it
stopped flowing, there was Death.

He brought his sister's body home, but there was no way to hide from his
parents the twisted things he had done to her. He explained it was an
accident, but both his mother and father called him evil, twisted, and
disowned them. They had a hatred for him he had never seen before displayed
anywhere in his life. They kicked him out of the shelter tents, and ran him
out of the desert with nothing to his name. Strangely indifferent to losing
his home, he moved onwards north to the city of Hamsah Mu'Tazzz. He begged, he
scraped, he killed rodents to survive. After a time, a member of the guild of
necromancy took notice of him and showed him to the guildhall. He was admitted
as a novice, but was excited at the prospect to learn more of Death, and even
bring it. Provuk had taken the first steps down a very dark path that would be
his life.

Role

Chapter 1

Provuk was the eldest brother of two, raised in a small family in the deserts
south of Hamsah Mu'tazz, near and under the protection of the tribal village
there. His father made his work as a merchant's guard, and his mother was a
water seeker. He was eight when he could remember his first memories, his
younger sister Nina was six.

Provuk was a cruel child from the start, always squishing bugs and killing
small animals. He had dark urges he did not understand, his sister Nina always
tried to guide him away from his urges and brought out a better side of him.
He loved his sister, she was the thing that grounded him.

He was not hateful, but methodically twisted. His parents both often were
gone, leaving Provuk and Nina to play in the desert and do the work around the
shelter tents during the day, and even some nights. They loved their children,
but were absent and ignorant to most of what they did.

Nina was bright and what many would say held the light in her heart, while
Provuk was known by the local traders and villages to be rather dark. She was
beloved by others, shared her food and water, and made conversation easily.
Provuk was an outsider, he struggled to communicate with others, kept to
himself, often resorting to cruelty. Not of boredom, but of curiosity and
urge. He enjoyed watching things die, the process of it, the suffering
sometimes that came before, but not the finality of it. He knew death was a
natural process, the end of life, but something drew him to it. That moment
when life faded from something's eyes. It saddened his sister, but she did
what she could to try and help him live a normal life.

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