Sylvus Mystarie the Regimental Curmudgeon, Provincial Magistrate

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Role

Chapter 7

Holding ourselves to a higher standard than those we deem worthy of death, to
what end? Is it inherently evil to manipulate and use the corrupted to serve a
greater purpose? My experience with others claiming the light as the guiding
hand in their livesis that many have a misplaced love for the process over the
result. Righteoussness is not a matter of honor or sport, it is the domain of
a swift and exacting pursuit of a positive outcome. To honor the lives of the
wicked through our refusal to engage in their tactics, what does it serve?
Does it serve the light or only our own ego.

Role

Chapter 6

I wish to expand on my experience with the gray tainted races of Thera.
And why gnomes are objectively the worst among them.

Most races that trend to the path of moral ambiguity do so culturally, they're
fetishization of death upon those they deem enemies largely stemming from
principles held dearly to their heritage that some might be inclined to say
are justifiable or even natural reactions to the stimulus from beyond their own
tightly knit communities. My observations are as follows.

(Wood-elves)

Naturalistic, fanatically so. The wood-elf seeks death upon those he judges
to have defiled his world. The world to him is like his mother, her trees the cozy
crib he has grown all too familiar with. Any who would defile his mother or his
den of childlike naivety are surely among the most deserving of death to the wood-elf.
Despite their supposed elven intellect the wood-elf holds a very loose grasp
on the utilitarian molding of the earth to ensure one's own survival and flourishing.

(Cloud giants)

Among the oldest of the giant races and the second most cursed by their circumstances.
Condemned to a life in the frigid north and contending with the threat of human
expansion. The most telling feature explaining their disposition must of course
lie in the fact that no cloud giant's feet may touch the ground without great effort.
A truly maddening circumstance to be in, how could one truly value life on a world
their soles will never touch?

(Svirfneblin)

Steeped deep within the earth's core and beleaguered at all sides from the
darkest creatures that shun the light. Subsisting on diets of fungus and pebbles
has given them a hopelessly bleak view on the sanctity of life.

(Gnomes)

Then we have gnomes. They know few hardships, their holds disconnected from the
greater world tucked away in the furthest reaches of it's edges. Lush
hillsides and babbling brooks do not breed bloodthirsty marauders hellbent
on conquest and avarice. And yet here we have the festering buboes bearing
jaunty pointy caps and whimsical mustaches who slaughtered innocents by the
thousands. What explanation is there for their iniquity? This brings me
to the conclusion that gnomes truly are a darkened race by heart and by soul.
So clever and conniving as to have deceived the Gods themselves
fortifying their own image to shed off the shackles of a crimson aura and in
doing so allowing their filthy wretched little hands greater access to
necks of children that they may slaughter on the altar of their professed
pragmatism.

Role

Chapter 5

Dear diary, Hi, it's been awhile hasn't it?

Over the years of travelling, stalking, fighting I have had an epiphany on
light and dark. How the deepest shadows seem to dwell in between the two.
This manifestation of evil takes a form that is both singular, and widespread.

The scourge of the gnomish adventurer!

Never before have I seen creatures so conniving, so vile as a gnome with a degree
in dungeoneering from Thera's academy. They stalk the lands slaughtering all who
their eyes fall upon giggling away all the while. They claim order as they cut the
throats of peaceful folk in the company of savages. An orc may be an unforgivable
abomination on our world but at least he's honest.

Ever faithful to the wisdom of our Lords I abide the Gods' judgment over them.
I will not indulge my prejudice in my handlings of the stunted creeps however
I shall always be watchful. Watching, waiting... for them to show their true hand.

On the day the gnomish uprising occurs I will be ready.

Ever yours,

Sylvus Mystarie

Role

Chapter 4

Sylvus has walked the lands for a time and he has become impressed with the
relative peace and order which the greater cities of Thera encourage to thrive.

Within these holds evil is held at bay by convenience and gold and any transgression
against this peace is met with a swift and brutal termination. This pleases
his sensibilities and though he can see major faults with the limitations of their
strict adherence to their written laws he believes joining their number and
preserving that order is a net good for the world at large.

Role

Chapter 3

Sylvus was part of a gang of Balator youths when he was a child
the gang formed around a common goal of protection and survival for
a diverse collection of unattended youth. Among them were humans, half-blooded elves
and even a few giants, he himself is a felar. With this experience he finds it
easy to bond and share a since of camaraderie with all sorts regardless of their
ubringing or heritage.

His gang was scouted out and recruited by an assassin belonging to the nearby keep
of the righteouss. A man who bore little resemblance to his peers yet by his words
and the impressionable minds of Sylvus' gang was a indeed a righteouss man on
a holy mission. He instructed the boys in the art of assassination but was ultimately
ejected from the Keep due to his fervor and the dubious nature of his methods.
Sylvus' and his "brothers" followed him blindly and where he went they followed.
Once the man was satisfied with their ability he left them to their own devices
as he intended to create many more gangs of sycophantic orphans to the same end.

For several years Sylvus' cell served to continue the missions their benefactor
had tasked them with, running under their own discretions following his absence.
Eventually their master returned and evidently was displeased with their performance
believing they had stepped beyond the boundaries of the impenetrable definition
of "Good" that their master held paramount. Sylvus' gang was eradicated by
their master and Sylvus alone, having been the master's favorite and less culpable if only
by the thinnest of margins, was left alive to suffer the guilt of his brothers'
death's.

Sylvus still has faith in his former master's goal and though he can not
claim to truly understand the man's teachings he continues the mission, to root out
evil. Sylvus' interpretation of his masters' vision implies that a good world
can be brought about only by going to beyond the confines of a simple black and white.
There must be flexibility in achieving a utilitarian good and the only distinction
between a truly righteouss executioner and a blood thirsty fool is one of
competence. A true executioner must have an infallible logic and order to his
methods and that minor sins are excusable if they serve to prevent far greater ones.

Role

Chapter 2

I feel sorry for you most of all Sylvus. You were a good kid. You may not be
guilty of their crimes but there you stood, the good man doing nothing. Your
apathy gave way to complicity. I'll let you live, that is your penance. Carry
this pain forward and learn it's lessons. I was conflicted. The man who
mentored me, fostered me and made me who I am had inflicted the greatest pain
on me. The home I had come to know and brothers I bled with were all gone and
I couldn't offer any defense not even against his reason. The brothers, and I,
had become bloated with blood and undisciplined in the shedding of others'.
Our skill and our indignant sense of righteoussness had grown malignant. Our
master like a skilled surgeon was offered no recourse but a swift and
judicious excision of the cancer we had become.

He spared my life that night, as he had spared us all once before. I carry his
lesson with me now. There was a logic to it that I must endeavor to understand
so that I may continue the mission we had failed. The depth of his teachings
were lost on our naievty. Justice is not blind, punishment must be metted out
in a logical and exacting process by which a universal good is achieved, this
is what I have learned from him.

Role

Chapter 1

The band of young boys I had come to think of as kin had spent our days as
nuisance to the humble people of Balator. We came close and guarded eachother
as much for our own protection as for the group. We stole, we fought, we did
all that we had to do to ensure that we may yet live another day. It was in
that desperate ambition that the man we came to respect above all others saw
our potential. Cylin, a man who bore more resemblance to a rogue than a knight
he had come from the keep, that shining bastion of morality in a land overcast
with gray and black, and took us under his wing. We trained rigorously day
after day under his strict supervision for the sole purpose of cleansing this
world of the rot of mankind's callous hubris. Daily he spoke at length of the
importance of this mission and of our part in it. He spoke of that same
desperation that led my brothers and I to rob and oppress those around us so
that we could survive. In his vision if a perfect world for all was to be
achieved than a slight discomfort and suffering of the bystanders was a small
price to pay. He, as we, stood out among the righteouss and our difference was
noted. Our master was deemed a fanatic and exiled from the keep and we having
known no man that was greater in our eyes followed him.

Our training renewed with a new fervor and before long we were tested not in a
classroom nor a sparring room but far afield. We were not hardened warriors
hailing from the greatest armies of the strongest holds, we were a band of
teenage boys armed with knives and lacking clear supervision as he began to
give us discretion on our targets and you could argue that was far more
dangerous than any army in the extent of our brutality.

We grew complacement in our morality. Believing ourselves set firmly in moral
superiority as we further and further misinterpreted the radical regime of our
master. He had long since left us to our own judgment, his cause required many
men like us, lost boys in need of a father and purpose and in the intervening
years he had established many cells of similar cells of amateur assassins. We
longed for his return until the day he finally did. Despite our beliefs it
became clear we could not live up to his expectations.

He came in the night unannounced. As my brothers and I celebrated another
successful mission weary from battle and standing on the strength of our ale
alone we proved no match for him. I folded in fear as I watched him
effortlessly dispatch each of my brothers before they could even rise to face
him. I could not bring myself to move as he turned to face me.

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