Bazz Dragonkeeper the Diligent Custodian of Damage Control, Avowed of Azorinne, Elder Prophet of the Light

Role

Chapter 5

*Late at night, surrounded by the cold stones of the Fortress, Bazz
sits at a scribe's work station. He has been staring at a piece of
paper placed on the desk before him.*

/-------------------------------------------------------------------\
| |
| Mother, |
| |
| I am very...different...than I was when we last hugged goodbye. |
| As I seem to have a talent for it, I've joined the shapeshifter's |
| guild. I know. When I realized this talent I was as surprised as |
| you are. |
| |
| With extensive study, I can gain insight into some manner of |
| animal and take its shape. I never know which of nature's many |
| creatures will make sense to me, but I have found them to reflect |
| who I am at the time. At first I was afraid of the world and my |
| circumstances, and wrapped myself in a shell. Then I went to a |
| darker place. I hid everything I truly feel from those around |
| me - when shaped as you remember me, I was outwardly happy, and |
| inwardly a creature of ice, emotionless - only when my outward |
| form became a denizen of the coldest places did I start to know |
| peace within. Protected by my fur, hide, and claws, I felt safe. |
| And then I was welcomed as a Scribe into the Fortress. Have I |
| simply found another shell to wrap around myself, to protect the |
| warmth within? |
| |
| My latest animal insight has been into the vile Komodo Dragon, a |
| being of filth and disease. What must I think of myself now? |
| |
| These thoughts are wrong. I know it. I am a good person. |
| Deserving of love. I feel the fire within me rise up whenever I |
| help someone in need, and I yearn to wrap myself as a shell |
| around all that is good in the world. I may not be a Maran, |
| burning away the darkness, but I dearly cherish the Light where I |
| find it. I can nurture it, grow it, and in time I believe it will |
| shine out against the darkness on its own, wiping it away as if |
| evil and pain were little more than the shade of a passing cloud. |
| I cannot trust myself, but I respect and love those who surround |

(continued in pt 2)

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Role

Chapter 1

Despite its tattered flesh, and no obvious way of breathing, the skeletal
creature cackled as it gripped Bazz's head in one hand. The world faded away as
an icy chill filled his body...

*So cold...*, he thought.

But he was not dead. He opened his eyes, and sat up. Covered in mud and
surrounded by darkness, he seemed to be in a cavern of some sort. At least the
cold was real - the scraps of leather he seemed to be wearing barely provided
any comfort or protection from his surroundings.

He had no memory of coming here. His head was full of dreams that felt too
real: He could remember the feeling of power as he stood atop a mountain,
surrounded by fire and ice as he filled the sky with magical power. He knew the
calm focus of pacing through the night's shadows, dressed in black, poisoned
blade in hand. The longer he thought, the more he remembered. But these could
not all be the memories of one man.

*Are any of these real?*

Self reflection ceased as an angry beast charged into the cavern from out in
the darkness. Surprised and afraid, Bazz could do little but shrink into
himself. The beast charged - CLANG! - and it's tusks slid off a hard shell that
had encased Bazz's body. Reflexively, Bazz struck back and found himself
holding a small knife embedded deep into the creatures heart.

Role

Chapter 2

Bazz knew the city the way he knew the back of his head. It was there and he
was familiar with it, but he had also never seen it before. Places were
familiar, but people named them differently than he expected - not that he knew
what he expected them to be called. His reflexive familiarity let him down in
one regard. The year was wrong. If his little remaining memory could be
trusted, it had been almost 25 years since he had last been here, though he
clearly hadn't aged. He kept open the possibility he was just crazy.

People were still people, and he knew how to pass unremarkably: taking on the
walk of a sailor as he strode nearby docks stealing food and water, or the
guise of a student as he slipped into a school of magic that had never been
his. He did not know who he was, so he became whoever he needed to be.

With practice, he found his body as malleable as his past. He was able to
conciously repeat the reflexive behavior that saved him in the caverns, and
reform parts of his body at will. At first it disturbed him, but the more his
survival depended him pretending to be other people, the more normal it seemed
for his body to pretend at other creatures.

For now he was oddly content. He would travel the land searching for the
familiar, in the hopes that this would help him understand who he was, and what
had happened to him.

Role

Chapter 3

Bazz idly watches an insect scamper into a pile of leaves.


"Hello little one. I figured out how to harden my skin into a carapace like
yours! I like it. The shell separates me more completely from the world. When
I change, my body better matches how I feel - as if there were a barrier
through which I watch things happen to me."


"I still remember little of the world, but it feels emptier than I expect.
Every bit I see is therefore the more precious - I've even managed to find a
bit of joy in it! I was working with a young Arial to protect the remains of
the Forest of Nowhere, and I actually felt good. I found myself smiling - and
I wasn't even pretending!"


"I don't understand why there are those who seek destroy what they see and
burn the world down. I feel I need to understand though. Not to become like
them, but to more completely reject who and what they are."


"Anyway, thanks for listening to me blabber on. My usual companions expect me
to use a tongue, lips, and so on and it gets tiring."


With a playful snap of his mandibles, Bazz saunters off.

Role

Chapter 4

What a feeling! To even feel at all is enough, but ever since my cold
awakening, lost, and without memory, I've been watching this mass I call a
body move about the world. Today, for the first time, I truly felt inside,
wrapped in my shell, in my hide, my skin.


I stood before the gates, guarding the Fortress as an Empire Blade and his
Bard lackey approached. The Empire thought to send those that my brothers and
sisters in the Fortress could not touch. They could aid me though - wrapped
in the magics of my companions I stood against the dark souls and drove them
off. It was a victory for all present, but for me it was the first time I had
shown I could so directly keep my oath to shield and preserve the Light. I
wish to stand there for all time, never allowing a dark soul past me while I
live.


But so quickly the warmth within me fades... I am not a Maran, furiously
hunting the Dark. And on reflection, my yearning is ultimately for
martyrdom...but why? I do not need to die to protect others, and to seek
death, or even worse, to seek recognition or glory through that death is
clearly a path into darkness.


I will preserve the Light where I find it, acting without hestitation even if
I must sacrifice myself. But I must not let emotion drive me, thoughtlessly,
to action. My purpose is clear, but I need a plan. I will think on it, and
confer with the leaders for guidance once I have one.

PK Statistics

Role

Chapter 6

| me and I will take their judgement of me in lieu of my own. I was |
| raised to a full Acolyte within the Fortress by Lady Azorinne, |
| Judgement incarnate, and I would not presume to question her |
| choice. I carry the trust she places in me as a flame - and warm |
| my spirit with it even when I feel the coldest. As I do now. |
| |
| One can easily forget that the Fortress of Light is, |
| fundamentally, constructed of people. Each is lovely, pure of |
| heart and action, but I feel the spirit wavers. To me it seems a |
| place of individuals with a shared goal and little shared |
| understanding. Perhaps I am still too new, or simply unable to |
| recognize comradery, but I feel the spirit could be stronger, and |
| fear that a single united enemy could overwhelm us with simple |
| determination. I have decided that it is my mission to get to |
| know every one of my fellows, find ways to help them know each |
| other better so they may help each other grow, and ultimately |
| grow the the Fortress into a solid bulwark against the Dark. |
| |
| My conversation with Lady Azorinne was glorious, and I will tell |
| you of it in a future letter. That I will never send. |
| |
| Writing this was a mistake. I thought it would help. |
| |
| Who were you? I don't even remember your name. |
| |
| Love (I hope. I like to imagine), |
| Bazz |
| |
/-------------------------------------------------------------------\
*Bathed in candlelight, Bazz carefully cleans ink from his pen and
sets it aside on the desk. He picks up the letter he has written,
and after folding it neatly, slides into a brilliant crimson
envelope. Slowly, reverently, he places the letter before him. He
stares at it again for a moment, then drops his head into his hands.
His silent tears soak the fine paper until the envelope darkens to
the shade of blood.*

*After some time, in a single motion, Bazz flicks the letter into a
nearby fireplace. It holds its shape briefly, steaming. Then, in a
burst of flame, it is gone.*

Role

Chapter 7

Bazz stands atop the southern wall of the Fortress, the dim orange glow of
the Forge lighting the courtyard and fountain within. Silence echoes from the
skies, joining the soft tinkle of water in a peaceful dance. He faces away
though, gazing outwards, patiently waiting for his eyes to adjust to the
darkness of the chill night air.

In one hand, he holds a fruit gifted to him by Lady Azorinne moments earlier.
In the other, nestled within his cloak, he grasps a warm, coal-filled,
brazier.

The stars in their dark firmament reveal themselves one at a time to his
senses - glittering jewels that dimly illuminate the majestic snow-covered
mountains. Presaged by a gentle exhalation of frost, he contemplates his
life.

*I am...happy. When did that happen?*

*I accept myself. I have come to love my Komodo Dragon as a mighty healer,
and the Wolverine as a fierce protector.*

*I am wrapped in the warmth of my fellows. Judged and found worthy of my
place by Lady Azorinne. Friends with many I deeply respect.*

*Nothing can take these things from me. Nothing can take this moment. I will
work, and fight, so that others may have their own moment.*

A minute later, the Maran shifts aside to allow a figure to sally forth
through the gates. Briefly, light shines outwards, illuminating the mountains
far into the distance with a golden glow.

Role

Chapter 8

Bazz sits at a Scribe's desk. Nearby, A crackling blaze fills the fireplace,
casting figures of dancing light and shadow on the cold stone walls.

He surveys the room a final time. Finding nothing amiss, he reaches into the
sleeve of his robe for a small black book. After navigating the piles of
blankets atop him, the book is at last laid open to a blank page. Bazz begins
to write:


//Journal Entry 97

I feel old today, as if the calendar has simply not caught up to me yet. Each
of us has moments in their lives that we believe will forever define us.
These moments add a weight to who we are, and as of late I felt it beginning
to crush me.

I did not know or like who I was in my earliest memories, but I felt that
through my works as an Acolyte I could aid the Fortress, spread the Light,
and perhaps, selfishly, gain respect for myself. I accepted the trust of Lady
Azorinne and became Elder Prophet, almost immediately stepping into a rising
conflict between the Fortress and Spire, with many Maran teetering on the
edge of the Light. My words and actions felt not enough. I thought then that
raising awareness of the unseen damage caused by our actions would be what I
had to spend the rest of my life doing. My friends fall in endless conflict,
despite my best efforts to save them. I have seen the membership of the
Fortress change almost in its entirety, with even my closest friends falling
away, and I feel that I could have stopped this.

The person I am today is built of all of these experiences, and through it
all, I have always felt an underlying purpose. Only recently have I been able
to form words to describe it. Alongside these words I also acknowledged to
myself that I am drawn to Lady Azorinne's teachings in the Light. Somehow,
despite her many years of seeing all of the pain and failures in the world,
she is not overwhelmed by its weight. When I asked her for guidance, she told
me I have to ask myself one important question, "Did I stop?" And NO, I did
not stop trying, I *want* to do all of the things I know I must, and with her
guidance I know I can. I laid out for her the vow that I had finally put
words to:

"I vow to actively seek out those with pain hidden in their hearts, to
provide a willing ear to listen and unburden them of it, and to guide them in
the Light."

And as I stood after speaking my oath, my purpose and future actions
unchanged by making this vow I already kept, *she* unburdened *me*. She asked
me to explore Mercy. So simple. But I have known joy, and good friends, and
successfully protected the Light, and helped the Fortress, yet never realized
that Mercy is not just for others, it can be a gift we give to ourselves.
Instead of punshing myself for what I could not do, I forgive myself. And so
simply, I feel many weights lifted from me, allowing me to do more, never
stopping.

Role

Chapter 9

Bazz sits cross legged on the floor of his guildhall, eyes closed, staff and
whip laid on either side. Humming quietly, he focuses intently on
manipulating portions of the skin on his face.

Lyeeth is dead. Horrindyr gone. Many others simply faded away.

He feels his grief is an ocean. First he is in the midst of a storm, lost and
thrown by the waves. After time he finds his way out, but even in the calm
ocean, large waves still arise and are endured. He focuses. Starting on his
left cheek, wrapping up around his eye, he causes the skin to darken, and
traces of a stylized ocean wave appear. Over the course of several minutes it
fills with teardrop images. As each forms, he contemplates a different friend
he has lost.

On the other side of the grief he feels his love for the world, his brethren
in arms, Lady Azorinne, and the love he has found by and for himself within
it all. He feels that love bathing him in the warmth of a sun, and hopes he
reflects some of it back. Focusing again, and starting at his right temple,
he causes traces on his skin to lighten into the image of an eclipsed sun,
rays of light bursting forth across his forehead and down his right cheek. As
each forms, he thinks of a different joy he has felt, or a different
friendship he has cherished.

Role

Chapter 10

Bazz's friend Lyeeth slipped something into his hand and whispered, "The
answer is 'star''. Laughing, Bazz held the item up and shouted,
"Star!'

"Point for Bazz!'

Looking around the common room of the Inn of the Eternal Star, Bazz was
filled with satisfaction. He was wrapped in the warmth of his fellows as they
played a good natured game. He was enjoying a fine dwarven ale. Nobody was
trying to kill him. He reveled in the feeling of peace. Laughing, he closed
his eyes to savor the moment...

...And the world slowly faded. Bazz first became aware of the chill of hard
stone where his back touched the uneven surface. His dream was already
slipping from memory, but he had the sense of it as a welcome relief from
other, earlier, nightmares.

His eyes still closed, he could make out the whisper of uneven breathing, and
the scrape of leather on stone nearby. The sounds echoed around him, before
settling again into silence.

Bazz half-opened one eye, only to be startled into full awareness by the
unexpected sight of a face looming close above his own. Where eyes should be
were deep pits of darkness, and a crooked dark smile seemed to grin at him
from half a face. Writhing snakes of shadow fell from around the creature's
head as if grasping towards Bazz. A mass of nothingness suspended below it.

"Oh, sorry. Didn't realize you were awake, Prophet.' The face pulled
back. With the flicker of a nearby lantern now able to reach it, the shadows
were driven away, and the creature regained the more comforting features of a
pure-bred elf. Dirt and mud covered its robe, which hung loosely about its
body. The robe was torn in places, revealing glimpses of a pure white shirt
that marked him as a member of the Darsylon healer's guild.

Bazz levered himself up onto his elbows and looked around.

He seemed to be in a small cavern. A lantern flickered near a pile of
equipment a few feet past his feet. Its light revealed glimpses of a rough
ceiling barely high enough to allow Bazz to stand if he were feeling well
enough, which he did not. Shadows danced across the cracks and bumps of the
ceiling's stone in an unnerving synchronized dance, leaving him with a
sickening feeling in his stomach. The nearby walls of the rest of the cavern
were no better, with the only passageway out of the chamber marked by a
gaping void of darkness beyond the pile of equipment.

The figure of a young dwarf lay to his right. His gleaming helm rested on the
stone floor above his head, but he was otherwise decked from neck to toe in
polished metal. One hand gripped the hilt of a sword that lay precariously on
his chest. The sword flickered dimly with light, but it was not enough to
banish the surrounding shadows. The blade was barely rising and falling with
each breath the dwarf took.

(continued in pt. 2)

Role

Chapter 11

Noticing Bazz's gaze, the healer frowned and said, "The sword seems to
provide him some comfort, and helps keep his terror away. Just...be careful
if he starts to thrash about.'

"Where are we?'

The healer sighed, then said, "Do you remember me at least?' After a
slight shake of Bazz's head, he continued, "You led an expedition to hunt
the new Vampyre in his lair... still nothing?'

Noticing the lantern's flame nearly fail, the healer walked over and
crouched to adjust the flame, still speaking, "We started in the crypts
below Arkham, but it fled deeper, into unexplored chambers. Yo-
we...had...underestimated...it, and it took us one at a time. It does not
bring the brute force of a Lich to the fight. Somehow, it takes the mind of
its victims. I saw it over and over - even in the midst of a skirmish, its
eyes would fascinate one or another of our company, and they would stop
fighting. Eventually it would claim them, and drag them away. They seemed to
go willingly, almost happily!'

Bazz lowered himself from his elbows back to the floor. He said, "I'm
sorry. This sounds horrible. Why was I sleeping? Why don't I remember?'

The equipment pile creaked as it adjusted to support the reclining weight of
the healer. He spoke, "In the last engagement, the two of you began to fall
under his power. By this time I could recognize the early signs, and I pulled
you away myself. I drug you as far as I could and tended to you both in the
relative safety of this spot.'

Feeling nauseous and sick from the shadows dancing above him, Bazz closed his
eyes and thought for a moment.

"So it's still out there?'

"Who is still hunting it?'

(continued in pt. 3)

Role

Chapter 12

"Hello?'

Opening his eyes again, Bazz peeked past his feet towards the cavern
entrance. Facing Bazz, the elf stood, lit from below by the lantern and
framed by the darkness of the passageway behind him. He was smiling, though
his eyes were closed. The white of his guild shirt seemed faded, with
glimpses of brilliant crimson peeking through the torn spots. The collar of
the robe itself had changed. It was...wet...and dark. The darkness was
clearly spreading even in the brief moment Bazz observed it.

Puzzled, it took a moment for him to realize that the elf was not standing.
He was being held aloft. The darkness behind was no longer the void of the
stone passageway, but resolved into a barely discernible figure. It radiated
menace, made all the more terrible by the way its body somehow avoided the
light, leaving only its burning red eyes and gleaming fangs visible. In
horror, Bazz traced the fangs to the source of the liquid soaking the
healer's robes, where they plunged deep into the now weeping arteries of
the elf's neck.

Even as the Vampyre locked its bite on the neck of its hapless victim, it
stared directly at Bazz. Its red eyes glowed. They began to fill his vision,
overpowering the feeble light of the lantern, and he found himself unable to
look away. For a moment, nearly all was red. Then he heard a distracting
clatter of metal on stone, and in a moment of clarity he became aware that
the healer's eyes had opened again and were looking at him full of terror.
It was enough. He became aware of his surroundings again, and felt another
source of Light filling his vision. The tattoo at his wrist blazed with white
fire, pulsing in time with the now equally bright sword fallen to his side.
Without thought, he snatched it up and sprung at the interlocked figures,
plunging the sword directly into the eye of the dark creature. It collapsed,
releasing its hold and fading into itself.

Bazz quickly attended to the healer, panic and terror fading to relief. This
he knew. This he could do. He began his own prayer, preparing to save the
healer, already confident that no one else would die, that the darkness had
been beaten back. He felt calm...happy even. He closed his eyes for a moment.

...And the world slowly faded. Bazz first became aware of the feeling of
dampness where his shirt lay against his chest...

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