Thathrosk Skakhuul the Vampyre Lord, Hunter of the Hollowing

Role

Chapter 7

Thathrosk had been confronted with a harsh reality he didn't want to accept:
chaos had no hidden secrets, no underlying orderit simply existed. Despite
his considerable achievements and his relentless pursuit of understanding, he
realized that trying to grasp the nature of chaos was as futile as chasing
his own shadow. The path he had walked, seeking the hidden purpose behind
every action, was nothing more than a mirage.

Morius had been more insightful than Thathrosk had initially realized.
Following one's desires, he now understood, was the ultimate expression of
living within chaos. The very essence of chaos lay in doing what one wanted,
unbound by reason or logic. His new fae friend's advice echoed in his mind:
he needed to embrace the joy of chaos and have a little more fun.

With this new perspective, Thathrosk began to revel in a cruel, cat-like
playfulness. He tormented his enemies with both words and actions, deriving a
twisted pleasure from their suffering. Disturbing the Sun Warden,
disheartening Travanz, and toying with various others became his new form of
amusement. His every action was a deliberate step away from the futile search
for understanding and towards the exhilarating embrace of chaos.

His focus shifted sharply to the chasm. Hizvustel, a non-mage fumbling in the
dark, was nothing more than a convenient toola useful idiot. Thathrosk
knew that for his desires to manifest, the chasm needed new blood,
individuals who shared his appetite for chaos and fun. He sought those who
would delight in the same games he did, those who found joy in the
unpredictable and the chaotic.

It wasn't just about smirking or chuckling
into the pleasures of chaos. He envisioned a chasm teeming with individuals
who lived for the thrill of the unpredictable, who found delight in the
disarray. His every move was now calculated to ensure that his surroundings
reflected the chaotic existence he had come to cherish. The games had just
begun, and Thathrosk was determined to play them to their fullest.

Role

Chapter 6

Lord Morius had given Thathrosk a chance, a rare opportunity not born of
kindness but of calculated curiosity. Thathrosk knew better than to question
the wisdom of the dark lord again. His induction into the Scions of Eternal
Night had been transformative, granting him profound insights into the
Ccul'gra and their shadowy realm. These creatures, brimming with power and
magic, intensified his desire to realize his ambitious dream.

The state of the chasm, however, was precarious. Thathrosk found himself
allied with two useful but ultimately expendable fools. For now, he tolerated
their presence while subtly sowing seeds of betrayal among potential allies.
Though he doubted he would ever truly support any of them gaining entry into
the chasm, these machinations served his larger purpose.

His encounter with the famed 'Nightreaver' of the outlanders had been
underwhelming. The Nightreaver's simplistic view of chaos as mere randomness,
devoid of deeper meaning or method, highlighted the primitive nature of his
beliefs. Living in a tree seemed fitting for one with such a shallow
understanding. Yet, Thathrosk recognized that entropy operated in ways beyond
simple calculation. He yearned to decipher what made each individual's
essence, or 'flame,' flicker uniquely.

This quest for understanding was driven by his belief that chaos was the
underlying force shaping individuality. By unraveling the mysteries of
others, Thathrosk hoped to gain insights into his own nature. Morius had
already illuminated aspects of his character, and the texts he studied
affirmed the necessity of this self-awareness. It was a lesson he vowed never
to forget, a guiding principle on his path to mastery over the chaotic forces
that defined his existence.

Role

Chapter 5

Thathrosk had grown into a formidable necromancer, his ambitions now fixed on
joining the Scions of Eternal Night. This pursuit mirrored his devotion to
the goddess of chaos and flame, driven by an obsession with free will, fate,
and chaos.

Reflecting on his life, he pondered, "Why do I make the choices I do? Is
there an unseen force guiding me, or am I merely a product of chaos?" One
evening, as he watched a flame flicker in a still cavern, he was mesmerized
by its unpredictable dance. "Why does it flicker this way? Without any
external influence, it weaves and flickers in a pattern of chaos."

This flickering flame became a metaphor for his existence. He questioned
whether his actions were guided by some incomprehensible force or if they
were simply manifestations of inherent chaos. "Do we all flicker because of
some unknown will? Is this chaos?" In a world dominated by order, he wondered
if his impulses were reactions to something beyond his understanding. Despite
his disdain for order, he harbored little true malice. His actions,
especially killing, were driven by impulse rather than emotion. "I act not
out of hatred, but because I am compelled to. What drives this compulsion?"

Understanding this chaotic impulse was crucial to his further enlightenment.
"To master chaos, I must first understand it." This realization clarified his
path, fueling his resolve to master the arcane and fully embrace the chaotic
essence of existence. The Scions of Eternal Night, with their rejection of
conventional power and embrace of forbidden knowledge, represented the
perfect avenue for him to explore these profound truths and wield chaos as a
transformative force. "Through the Scions, I will transcend my limitations
and reshape the world."

Role

Chapter 4

His companions, though wary, could not deny the change in Thathrosk. He was
no longer just a survivor, he was becoming something else.

Driven by a relentless pursuit of power, Thathrosk and his companions
ventured into the Black Marsh, lured by tales of gold from a lost caravan.
The whispers of the dead guided his path, filling his mind with promises of
riches and power. Yet, as they delved deeper into the marsh's murky depths,
the reality of their quest became clear. The hands of the dead, unseen but
ever-present, began to close in on them.

One night, they found themselves surrounded on a great hill, the dead closing
in from all sides. Panic gripped the group as the skeletal figures emerged
from the shadows, their eyes glowing with malevolent intent. Ssash, always
the quick thinker, took desperate action. "Light the ground around us!" he
shouted, setting the earth ablaze in a last-ditch effort to keep the undead
at bay.

The flames roared to life, but they quickly spiraled out of control. The fire
consumed everything in its path, devouring the undead and the living alike.
Screams echoed through the night as Thathrosk watched his friends perish in
the inferno. The heat was unbearable, searing his scales and scorching his
flesh. He collapsed, the world around him fading to black.

When Thathrosk awoke, the quiet was deafening. The once vibrant whispers of
the dead were now a distant murmur. He was alone, surrounded by the charred
remains of his companions and the smoldering remnants of the undead. This
silence was new to him, an eerie calm that brought with it a strange clarity.

As he lay there, battered and burned, he fed on the wretched life that clung
to the swamp. His body slowly began to heal, drawing strength from the
decaying flora and fauna. In this time of recovery, he began to dream. These
dreams were different from the nightmares of his past. They were filled with
visions of greater possibilities, of what he could achieve without the
constrictions of order or even family, friends.

His friends were gone. His sister was gone. Everyone he had ever cared for
was now nothing more than ashes in the wind. It was in this moment of calm
realization that Thathrosk embraced the legacy of his people. The whispers of
the dead took on new meaning, guiding him towards a path he had long
resisted.

With a newfound purpose, Thathrosk began his journey as a necromancer. He
delved into the forbidden arts with a fervor, drawing power from the very
forces of death that had once tormented him.

Role

Chapter 3

Thathrosk's eyes, calm and unsettling, met Ssash's. "Peril is the price of
power, my friend. We cannot shy away from it if we are to transcend the
mundane."

Rikan, always eager for adventure, chimed in. "What's the plan, then? Where
do these whispers lead us?"

Thathrosk gestured towards the heart of the graveyard. "There is a tomb,
ancient and forgotten. The whispers say it holds a relic of immense power. We
must retrieve it."

The group ventured deeper into the cemetery, guided by Thathrosk's unwavering
conviction. The air grew colder, and an eerie silence enveloped them as they
approached the tomb. The entrance was sealed with a heavy stone door, covered
in runes that pulsed with a faint, otherworldly light.

"Stand back," Thathrosk commanded, raising his hands. He muttered an
incantation he had learned from the whispers, his voice low and resonant. The
runes flared brightly before the door creaked open, revealing a dark passage
leading into the depths.

As they descended, the air grew thick with the scent of decay. Shadows danced
along the walls, and the whispers grew louder, more insistent. At the end of
the passage, they found a chamber filled with ancient bones and crumbling
artifacts. In the center, atop a stone pedestal, rested a blackened, ornate
urn.

Thathrosk approached the pedestal, his eyes locked on the urn. "This is it.
The source of the whispers." He reached out to touch it, feeling a surge of
energy coursing through him.

Suddenly, the ground trembled, and the chamber was filled with a cacophony of
voices. The bones around them began to stir, reassembling into skeletal forms
that rose to their feet.

"Thathrosk, what have you done?" Ssash shouted, drawing his weapon.

Thathrosk's eyes gleamed with a strange light. "We are about to witness true
power, Ssash. Stand firm."

The ensuing battle was fierce, the group struggling against the relentless
onslaught of the undead. Thathrosk, now wielding the urn's dark power,
commanded the skeletons with a newfound authority. Yet, as the last of the
undead fell, a sense of foreboding settled over the group.

"This is just the beginning," Thathrosk murmured, clutching the urn. "We have
tapped into something greater than we ever imagined. The world will no longer
be boring. It will be our playground."

Role

Chapter 2

One night soon after a particularly close call with the city guards,
Thathrosk confided in Ssash, a trusted friend within the gang. "Ssash, I find
myself pondering... it's not merely the law that's at fault. There's a deeper
malaise within the world itself."

"The world is fundamentally flawed. It's
not just about laws or rules. It's about a structure designed to protect the
weak and maintain a semblance of order. But order does nothing for us, does
it? It merely keeps us suppressed, struggling to survive."

Ssash nodded slowly, absorbing the revelation. "You're right. Maybe it's not
just the system. Perhaps it's the world that requires transformation."

These conversations resonated deeply within Thathrosk, shaping his beliefs
and fueling his growing discontent. He began to view the world through a lens
of scrutiny and resolve, realizing that it wasn't merely the law that was
flawed, but the very fabric of society. This awakening marked the beginning
of a new chapter in his life, one driven by a desire to challenge the world's
inherent injustices and reshape it into a realm more suited for the strong
and the cunning.

The world grew monotonous as he aged, and the mere act of survival no longer
held the allure it once did. Thathrosk, driven by an insatiable curiosity and
a burgeoning sense of purpose, convinced his friends to leave the confines of
Galadon. Together, they embarked on a quest for magical power, an obsession
that had taken root deep within Thathrosk's soul. In his dreams, he saw
visions of magic swirling around him, elusive and tantalizing, beyond the
grasp of his ordinary senses.

Thathrosk never knew much about his people, having grown up isolated from
other saurians. The names Sra and Weh were as foreign to him as the distant
stars. Yet, despite this lack of cultural understanding, he found himself
uniquely attuned to the whispers of the dead. Graveyards drew him near, and
secrets seemed to seek him out, carried on the spectral winds.

One night, as they made camp near an ancient, overgrown cemetery, Thathrosk
shared his latest revelation with his closest companions. "The dead speak to
me, Ssash. Their whispers are like a melody only I can hear. There is a
secret here, something powerful, waiting to be unearthed."

Ssash, ever the pragmatist, eyed him warily. "Thathrosk, are you certain?
This path you've chosen, it feels... perilous."

Role

Chapter 1

"Thathrosk... how will we survive?" The desperation in his sister's voice
pierced the oppressive air of the Galadon sewers. He didn't know how to
answer. Life in the fetid underbelly of the city was no place for children,
especially orphans. Even with his innate wisdom, Thathrosk, a mere hatchling,
had no solution.

"I... I don't know. But we must persevere," he replied softly, his tone
measured and calm, yet unable to mask the underlying uncertainty. His sister,
frail and exhausted, could only nod weakly.

Days melded into nights, and the struggle for survival claimed its toll.
Inevitably, the girl succumbed to the harsh conditions. Thathrosk held her
limp hand, tears silently streaming down his scaled cheeks. A part of him
withered away that day.

In time, new companions filled the void left by his sister. Thathrosk and his
friends survived amidst the chains of order, perpetually evading the law,
stealing what they needed.

One evening, as they huddled in a shadowy corner of the sewers, Thathrosk
turned to Rikan, a fellow gang member. "Rikan, do you ever contemplate the
nature of the law? It feels inherently flawed, don't you think?"

Rikan, chewing on a piece of stale bread, looked up with mild curiosity.
"What do you mean, Thathrosk?"

"We're strong. We do what is necessary to survive. Why should we be shackled
by rules designed to protect the weak and the unworthy?" Thathrosk's voice
was calm, yet the intensity of his words cut through the dim air.

Rikan shrugged, nonchalant. "Maybe. But those rules keep the city from
plunging into chaos. Without them, everyone would be out for themselves, and
we wouldn't be any better off."

Thathrosk's expression remained inscrutable, but dissatisfaction lingered in
his eyes. He continued to harbor a deep resentment towards the system that
seemed to favor the weak over the strong. In his mind, he knew they may
perish but he would survive.

Immortal Comments

PK Gank-O-Meter

PK Statistics

Skill List

Title History

PK Wins

PK Deaths

Leveling History

Timeline

Mob Deaths

Edges

Flaws

Racial Edges

Class Edges

Edges