PART MAN, PART ANIMAL, ALL AWESOME! MY CHARACTER ROXORS! BEHOLD THE TRANSFORMER EXCELSOR!!!
LoL, Kidding!
My character. . .
*thinking*
Heck, we don't have a knight yet! Better yet. . . a paladin. . . a fallen paladin. I would make him a vampire. . . but that'd be a bit much
. Ummm, yeah, a fallen paladin. . . a synopsis as follows:
From the Archives of Brother Marius, of the Dahlisin Order:
The birth of Dravis Forsythe has been a subject of debate for centuries amongst the five kingdoms. There are those that say he was the son of a Priest and an elven witch, a bastard child, torn between joining the armies of heaven or the legions of hell. Others say he was born a seventh son, all his brothers alive at birth, to William, the Knight of Stilton (also a seventh son, who, coincidently, was responsible for the Holy Purgings that ravaged the lands from Stilton itself to beyond the moors of N'wahnt), thus privy to a host of poorly understood, but, undoubtably, supernatural powers. The fact remains, that Dravis was not a normal child. He was raised in the village of Crystal Spires (named after the miraculous crystal structures that overshadow the town, a major attraction for tourists, also a major ingredient for Throgriff's Healing Elixer (see Janick's unparalleled Guide to Herbs and Potions)) by the midwives. He was traded from home to home, well loved, and well cared for. His childhood is, regrettably, poorly documented and could offer many glimpses into how he accomplished so much in such a short time of his life. It is this historian's opinion that the large scale of works performed by Dravis have gone, largely, unnoticed. Certainly there are many miracles that were observed during his squiring (it was not long before the midwives of Crystal Spires saw his extraordinary talents, and he was sent to the capital, where he would undergo training to be a knight, boarding with other boys his age). For example, his detection of the poison that lay in the goblet of the Queen herself. Without his presence she would have, surely, perished. However, the Cripsk Toxin in her wine is virtually undetectable, save with the aide of several complex spells, well beyond the abilities of an un-learned squire. Yet, there are many events which may be attributed to Dravis, although few seem willing to do so. It is well known that, around his 15th year of age, a Basilisk began stalking the capital at night. How this creature came to be inside the city walls is anyone's guess (no doubt a mage attempting spells WELL BEYOND his abilities, a common source of injury), yet the basilisk was found dead not far from the Squire's Shelter. Many say the beast was slain by several brave villagers, yet none have stepped forward, all the guards were at their posts, all the knights were debating HOW to kill the basilisk, and all the squires were attending training that night. . . save one.
Dravis rose quickly with the grit and determination rivalled by few. He quickly became a knight, shortly after, a paladin, and was even promoted into the Death Shrikes. The Death Shrikes, for those who have little knowledge of the outside world, are an order (some say cult) who are devoted to expulsing those dark forces that threaten the kingdom. It is doubtless that Dravis, and his troupe, faced many horrors. It is during this time that Dravis went under the tutelage of Visk Gri'stiene, a respected and feared paladin, and the leader of the Shrikes. It was believed that Dravis was to lead the Shrikes upon Visk's passing. However, either fate's cards were mis-shuffled, the stars were thrown out of their orbits, or the God that guides us lost interest in his follower, Dravis, for Dravis never led the Shrikes. . . The account that follows is from a variety of sources. . . My own scrying, interviews of several birds flying overhead at the time, and the evidence, all suggest that the following is a, relatively, accurate account of what transpired:
The Death Shrikes had travelled quickly after receiving the first reports of a Lycanthropic outbreak on the outskirts of the N'wahnt moors, in the town of Heaven's Gate (named by an eccentric bard centuries ago, who thought it might be amusing. . . few find it such). A lone rider had brought the news, driving his horse at a gallop for two days, and then running at full-stride to the nearest town, Jubilee's Crest, after his horse fell, shattering its shoulder. The rider passed on the news to the mayor and a runner was dispatched immediately. The news reached the capital in six days. The Death Shrikes made it to the border of Heaven's Gate in less then 5 days, their horses still strong, but skittish despite their training.
Before continuing, I must stress the dangers of Lycanthropic Plague. It is an affliction that few have heard of and, therefore, I feel it needs explaining. Almost all know of the Lycanthropes (Common name, the Werewolf; scientific name:
Canis lycanthrus), who transfer their affliction (
Veracius lycanthrip) through biting their victim. This, in a way, is similar to the Lycanthropic Plague, in that both require a bite to spread.
However, Lycanthropic Plague (
Veracius lycanthrus) does NOT exhibit the dormancy phase seen during the solar cycle. Therefore, once bitten with a host afflicted by
Veracius lycanthrus the host will remain a lycanthrope forever and will not revert to their former human form, even after death. Thus, any outbreak of
Veracius lycanthrus MUST be eradicated without mercy, least the infected victims escape and enter the kingdom proper (Heaven's Gate is not, technically, within the boundaries of the kingdom, however, it is under the protection of the Queen and, consequently, the Death Shrikes).
As stated earlier, Heaven's Gate sits at the edge of the Moors. It was estimated that 60 souls inhabited Heaven's Gate and, in order to defend the town from the many invaders (the moors lead into the Discanti Swamps, where few foolhardy adventurers return from), the town was constructed in a natural valley. Both the entrance and the exit are well defended with just a handful of men. The town was surrounded by a stone wall, too high for many men to scale effectively, especially when clad in full-scale mail. The Shrikes rested their horses and sharpened their swords, preparing to attack at dawn, the sun at their backs.
The riders descended upon the town, breaking through the main gate, each man holding his breath in anticipation, containing the fear that they were too late. The town was silent. The sound of flies filled the air, and the stench of carrion violated their nostrils.
"We are too late, my captain, the beasts have fled into the moors. . . or perhaps into the kingdom herself."
"Nay, still your tongue Dravis, Heaven's Gate was closed, the kingdom is safe. However, I fear, you were right in stating our tardiness, it seems the village is devoid of life."
The knights rode in silence. The sound of hooves on cobblestones seemed to echo off every wall. A lone window shutter battered noisily in the wind. They entered the common. In front of them the entire village seemed assembled in a macabre meeting. Blood stained the grass and carcasses of livestock had been torn to shreds. Bones lay strewn across the ground, flesh still clinging to them like the reddened sap of a birch. One of the men drew in his breath, staring at the throng of wolfmen before them. Visk steadied his horse, lifting his sword towards the sky. Their armor gleamed in the morning sun, their horses whinnied. One of the lycanthropes howled, head held high. Visk's mount reared, as if in reply.
"FOR THE QUEEN! DESCEND MY SHRIKES!"
The men charged. Blood flecked their armor, turning the silver into a crimson sheen. Dravis grinned as his sword cut through the beasts. Many of the men fell victim to the werewolves, and then perished again as they rose against their former comrades. The wolves fought without concern, their bodies driven by the plague itself, thirsting for blood, for yet another carrier of the disease. The knights fought valiantly, and before long the werewolves' numbers were dwindling. Visk and Dravis fought side by side and, as the last lycanthrope fell to his steel, that Dravis realised, with grim certainty, that they were the last of the Death Shrikes. They dismount, standing alone, two men in a sea of gore, clothed from head to foot in the deep red of rubies, their victory leaving an acrid taste in their mouths. Dravis looked at Visk and smiled bitterly.
"For the Queen." spat Dravis.
Visk's eyes flashed.
"Beware Dravis, your words are tainted with heresy."
"You saw them Visk. I looked in their
eyes, damn you! My friends, fallen. My comrades, slain! And for what? To expunge a plague which would never have made it into the kingdom?!"
"This
is the kingdom Dravis, and you would do well to stay your tongue!"
"Nay, I shall
not! Heaven's Gate was
nothing, it would take a thousand of these. . . these. . .
peasants to equal
one of my brothers!"
"You think I do not mourn Dravis? You think my heart does not ache at the loss we have suffered today? We must
all make sacrifices for the kingdom, we must all serve our Queen!"
"For what? Why should I die? I should be ruling this nation! We should invade the moors, decimate the swamps. Why remain in the kingdom? We could control the entirety of the five Kingdoms!"
"
Dravis, your words are tainted with hate and bloodlust, be careful where you tread, least the Queen send the Shrikes after you!"
"The Shrikes?
The Shrikes? What SHRIKES? We are the last my dear Visk! And the lineage ends here! If you insist on defending the Queen, then you will be the
first to be quelled!"
Dravis stopped circling his quarry and lunged. Visk parried his blow easily.
"Dravis, my friend, talk sense. Clearly the air has clouded your mind. Come with me, we shall ride together and talk this over."
"The time for talking is through,
my friend. Your soul shall be joining my comrades shortly Visk. . . Nay, you deserve the fate of these peasants, to die at my hand!"
With a cry, Dravis swipes at Visk. Visk leaps backwards awkwardly, weighed down by his armor. The sword bounces off his breastplate and he regains his balance in time to parry Dravis' next blow.
"Come now Dravis, this is folly."
Dravis' eyes seeth with hate, with bloodlust. He slashes at his former teacher without finesse, without grace. Anger fuels the venom of his hatred, and he unleashes blow upon furious blow. Visk attempts to retaliate but, instead, is thrown off balance by his assailants assault. He falls, his sword knocked from his hand. He raises his gloved hands in defense.
"I yield Dravis! Grant me mercy, as is my God given right!"
"I see no God here."
"Brother. . ."
And that is when my scrying ball fell silent. Those that visited the site, myself included, saw the common drenched in blood, the corpses of wolfmen and knights virtually indistinguishable amid the carnage. The ground in the centre of the common was scorched. Those fews avians that witnessed the event state that a great light descended upon Visk, and, upon its fading, there was but the blackened earth where he had lay prone. Dravis, however, was unscathed, and journeyed to the Moors. He was seen again, although not until much later, and his legend quickly grew. Few knew whether insanity had gripped him, and many state that he had, in fact, seen the error of his ways, adopting the teachings of his former master. Some state that he sought allies in the moors, to launch an attack against the Queen, others that he seeks to eradicate all threats to the kingdom. His many actions have yet to be documented and he still roams the moors. He is sighted from time to time and I believe that he still has a role to play in this kingdom. Whether that role is as a villian or an ally remains to be seen. However, if he stands against us, then may God be on our side, because, I fear, nothing else will stop him.
Wow. . . well, that was MUCH longer than I expected. I hope it was ok and that you enjoyed reading it.
I'll write a description too. . . but not right now *yawn*
That took WAY too long.
~The (Over Exuberant) Cretin~
