Khorat the Legend of the Battlefield, Imperial War Master

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Role

Chapter 3

War Master, Khorat grunted as he sank down in his chambers. Blood stained his
clothes, both new and old. Both his own and of enemies. More of his own if
truth be told. His blood boiled as he stared into the flames of the hearth,
the fire within burning. It invigorated him as much as it caused pain. With
a sigh he sank back in his seat, his eyes losing the fire. He had not
expected to become war master, had not expected to be gifted by the lords.
For what else could this fire within be. What had he expected? Nothing, had
he even had enough of a mind to expect anything? Looking back he could trace
his path through life like blood running down the gutter. Predictable,
stable...but no mind of its own.


He remembered his words to Empire lords, saying he had ambition. Did he even
know the word? He followed Empire, it stirred his burning embers yes, but had
he truly wished for anything other? Did he even have enough thought too have
wishes. He remembers words spoken to enemies and allies alike. Air, nothing
but air. No substance. Led in talks like a sheep, with no mind of own. What
is he? What is Khorat? Nothing, an empty shell that talks and walks the
world. Leaving as little trace as the hated shadows.


The fires within his blood start burning again, the hand creaking around his
hammer. No, he growled. Something has changed, War Master....Emperor. Yes,
likes the sound of that. He could see it now, him sitting upon the throne,
the skulls of vanquished foes beneath him. Empire stretching and growing.
Fine, mostly the skulls of enemies vanquished by others but his to sit upon.
Yes, keep this path, his muddled thoughts came. Grow, bring Empire order
everywhere and him resting on the throne, and what glorious rest to let
others do his bidding and curry favour.


With that Khorat rose once more, raising hammer high and swung heavily at the
stonewall. Chips of stone flew and Khorat nodded in satisfaction before
settling down again. Enough thinking and doing, he thought and closed his
heavy-lidded eyes once more.

Role

Chapter 2

Khorat sat still in the dim lights of the war room. Screams echoed as
fortress pressed their way into the palace, but for now it seemed outer
forces held firm.
It would change, khorat thought. Soon they would press in
and spill blood on the palace floors. He knew he should rise and prepare, but
a moment for himself was nice.
Much has transpired since he left his little
village. Everywhere was full of activity, Khorat himself out of place. He
never felt the urge to scramble as others do, seemed to much effort.
Joining the Empire seemed easy at the time, palace close to hometown and other
members to aid in whatever is needed. but now something else as surfaced, an
ambition awakened if only a spark. A thought formulating, a goal so ever
closing in. if Empire ruled all, things would fall into place. No surprises,
no events out of place. The further he rises the more can be demanded of
underlings, and if Empire ever stretches further..for those high enough
everything will be served. Yes, ambition exists in Khorat though tempered by
wits and laziness.


A crash and scream echoed close as fortress members pushed into the palace.
Is time to smash, Khorat thought and rushed out to strike at the elf heading
towards the council. As he was obliterated by prayers he briefly wondered if
he should take the effort to prepare for these raids more, but then all went
dark and thought was lost.

Role

Chapter 1

Once a baby fire giant was born
but soon he was to be forlorn
In the village born
by everybody fire and chaos was worn
Soon it was noticed by all
that the baby seemed kind of small
looking at the baby, elders frowned
while secretly their blades they honed
Early on the now child
seemed much less wild
it was noticed he would rather build an orderly street
while other children trampled everything with their feet
Strange how all the chaos seemed
for the child towards order leaned
Much To his elders ire
he would not succumb to chaos and fire
though not to be mistaken
he was an evil in the makin'
the feet that trampled his street
soon a hammer to the face did meet

so the youngling did leave
to find an orderly way to reave
with mind and reflexes slow
He came to hamsah with hammer in tow
Perhaps greatness would him await
but most likely only a bloody fate

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