The Fallen

[Nyarlathotep]

Since I've began playing here in ALFA I've had a lot of characters die horrible deaths (mostly in the devil spawned jaws of bears) and since I came across a bunch of bios of these PCs I figuired I'd post them before I deleted them from my hard drive.


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TO LIVE AND DIE
"The Dead Should Not Walk"-Morgan Deathsbane

Morgan Deathsbane was a man with one goal in life, the destruction of all undead. His fanatical hatred was birthed by a childhood growing up in the shadow of Zhentil Keep. His parents worked as tenants on a lord's farm outside of The Keep, and owned a miniscule plot of their own to provide sustenance for Morgan and his three younger sisters. One night the family and neighbors were awakened by the rumbling of a carriage passing through their squalid shanties on its way to the lord's manor.

The next day several of the women of the shantytown were summoned to attend the lord within his manor, Morgan's mother was among them. Two nights passed and when the women did not return, no one asked any questions for they lived within the shadows of Zhentil Keep and knew life is better for those who keep their heads down and mouths shut. The women would return when they could and no good could come of prying into a lord's affairs.

On the third day Morgan was late returning from the fields, since his mother had left his father had not stirred from their tiny shanty leaving him to do the work of a grown man. He returned to carnage. The tiny village was in flames and bloodless bodies littered the ground. Taking up his scythe he rushed to his house and to the madness within. His mother and the others had finally returned but as twisted dead things that craved not love but blood. His mother had tied his family upside down from the rafters and slit their throats so their blood would flow into a small cask set beneath each one. She and another vampire were sipping the blood from fluted wine glasses, appearing for all the world like too sophisticated gourmands enjoying a fine vintage. With a cry of wordless horror young Morgan fled into the night.

It was several weeks later when the ranger Kelden Hawkcry found the boy huddled beneath a tree, mad with fear and still clutching the scythe. Taking him in he trained Morgan in the ways of forest in the hope that it would heal the young man's soul. Years later Morgan completed his training and was ready to go out on his own. Before he left Kelden first sent Morgan to a temple of Selune to meet a famous healer known as the Sister of the Night, in the hope that she could extract some of the bitterness from Morgan's heart.

Morgan was warmly welcomed by the sisters, who knew him well from visits with Kelden when he was still a boy, but was not allowed to meet the mysterious Sister of the Night. She would not be available until after the moon rose though he was assured it would be well worth the wait. At moonrise a figure in white emerged from the temple's catacombs. When she raised her head Morgan's heart stopped. It was his mother.

Tentatively she made her way towards the shocked ranger and whispered, "I know I can never make up for what I did to you and the others but please forgive me. The sisters are helping me to heal and they believe that soonthis terrible curse may be lifted. I love you my son." She embraced him tightly and but finding her embrace unreturned sadly stepped back. One of the sisters passionately interjected, "Your mother is indeed changed. Only a soul of the utmost courage can accomplish what but she has, " she continued, "no longer is she a slave her vampiric thirst. She does the work of a dozen sisters in a single night." Beaming the priestess of Selune smiled at Morgan and his mother.

Snarling with disgust from the embrace of a dead mother, Morgan unleashed a cry born of countless nightmares and set upon the one he once called mother. The Selunites could only watch in horror as he decapitated the Sister of the Night with his scythe. As the headless corpse collapsed to the ground he spoke in a hollow voice, "My mother is dead...and the dead should not walk." With that Morgan walked past the stunned and speechless Sisters and into the night, damning himself and his mother.

He headed towards Daggerdale, that lands trouble with vampires was legendary and he hoped the hunting would be good there. During his travels he came to a small hamlet that was being haunted by the walking dead. At the time of his arrival no serious damage had been done, but some pets had gone missing and a widow reported that something had tried to enter her cabin only the night before. Her tale of a harrowing night spent huddled by the fire as something scritched across her windows and scratched at her door had the villagers in a panic. It was a tense situation with neighbor suspecting neighbor and an unknown necromancer prowling the nearby woods. The town was a pile of kindling awaiting a spark and Morgan was the steel too the necromancer's flint.

The people welcomed the undead hunter into there midst and Morgan spent his first night in the Hamlet searching for the walking dead with an aged priest of Lathander. They had no luck until cries of fear greeted the dawn at a nearby farmhouse. A young boy going out to do the morning milking had happened upon a grisly sight. The cow that he was to milk was dead and partially devoured, but what was worse was the culprit. It was Arnsun Walther a local farmer who had died a month ago. Someone had violated his grave and forced his body to walk again. After Morgan dispatched the creature he began his hunt for the necromancer. That afternoon he headed to the town square and began to inflame the passions of the townsfolk against the foulness within their midst. He soon had a small mob at his back and they began to ransack their neighbor's houses for necromantic paraphernalia. Eventually they found a small book of spells within the bedroom of a young woman of only seventeen winters. In Morgan's cold grip the fearful girl soon confessed to everything.

She had found the book of spells at an old ruin outside of town nearly a year ago. At first she had been too afraid to use it but as time passed her fear was overcome by curiosity. When old Arnsun passed on she thought it the perfect opportunity to see if the spell worked. Unfortunately it did and she unwittingly unleashed an undead horror upon the hamlet. She had been too scared to tell anybody and was terrified that someone would be hurt. The old cleric tried to comfort her but Morgan yanked her away and threw her to the ground. In a haunted voices he pronounced judgment, "Enough of your lies foul witch. I have here in my hand the blasphemous book you used to summon forth your minions. At your neighbor's farm lies the still twitching corpse of a man who was once your neighbor and you expect us to believe it was nothing more than a child's prank!" As he came to a finish his voice, which had began as a hollow whisper, rose to a flaming roar. "I'll not suffer a necromancer to live."

"Witch," he spat at her, "it is time to burn."

Driven by Morgan's fanaticism the mob built a pyre, ignoring the desperate pleadings of both the girl and the priest. Morgan's madness swept through the town like wildfire and soon the girl was tied to a stake and the priest locked in a root cellar for his own safety. Morgan strode towards the stake, the book of spells in one hand and a torch in the other and faced the supposed witch. "Filth," he spat tossing the torch onto the pyre. As the kindling and the witch burned a ghost of a smile crossed Morgan's lips and he tossed the book of spells onto the pyre. Turning he walked out of town, his passing serenaded by the anguished screams of a young girl who had played with forbidden lore. The next morning with the fire burned out and the hunter, gone the people of the hamlet released the priest and began to come to terms of what they had allowed their fear to lead them to do.

Morgan continued his hunt unabated. He became gaunt to the point of sickness. His skin took on a pasty white appearance reminscent of the dead things he fought. Cold and emotionless, his every waking moment revolved around the hunt. He made his way to Daggerdale, drawn by rumors of vampires. Many kept their distance from him, his appearance frightening and others had heard of his work in the hamlet. Nevertheless he found some who were willing to help in the hunt.

Morgan's hunt ended abruptly though, as he was found dead in the back of the Broken Dagger, a large wound in the back of his head. No one knows who killed him or how, the tavern's staff saw nothing. Some say the dead claimed him, or the girl he had burned returned for revenge. Others claim some thug killed him for coin. His life was best summed up by Hawkcry, "he never truly lived since the fateful day his world died, may he find the peace in death that eluded him in life."

[Nyarlathotep]

ORMHJERTE

Ormhjerte was born Erik Wolfsan on Oman's Island in the Moonshaes. He was the eldest son of Magnus the Wolf a minor Jarl of the island. His mother was a druidess of the Ffolk, Caitlyn of Moray. Sadly Caitlyn died in giving birth to Erik, leaving Erik and his father alone.

At best Magnus was a distant and cold figure in Erik's life. His actual rearing was left to the Jarl's retainers. In time Magnus remarried and had another son, Fredrik. If Magnus had been distant before he was all but absent from Erik's life now.

A frail and sickly child, Erik never truly found a place among the robust Northlanders. While other children his age played at being warriors or wrestled, he read what few books were to be found within his father's keep. He was an embarrassment to his father who was far more enamored of Fredrik who was becoming a fine example of Northlander manhood. As Erik grew older his features began to favor that of his mother, to such an extent that Magnus could not even look upon his son without the pain of his lost wife being dredged back to the surface.
The only person in the entire keep who even took more than a passing interest in Erik was the clan's skald, Balder Hawkcry, who sensed potential for great power within the boy. He ultimately decided not to induct the boy into the mysteries of the skalds because of the growing bitterness he sensed in Erik.

So Erik grew up alone, his only companions the books he could find within the keep or wheedle from visiting merchants. Eventually he came to the attention of Marcus Ebonshield a merchant hailing from Westgate and a secret follower of Garguath. Marcus saw to it that some minor necromantic texts made their way into Erik's hands, including an incomplete copy of Sammaster's Tome of the Dragon. Marcus hoped that these texts coupled with Erik's isolation would eventually bear a bitter fruit for Garguath to enjoy.

Inspired by the texts Erik began to dabble in necromancy and take up seriously the study of life and death. No one died, from the mightiest raider to the lowliest swineherd, without Erik showing up to examine the body. Many in the village began to call him the worm, because only worms showed so much interest in the dead. For the first time in years Magnus took notice of his eldest son musing, "Is this my son with an insatiable love for the dead?" Erik was careful to keep his necromantic studies secret for fear of exile, though in truth he had yet been able to tap into the least bit of necromantic energy.

Thing continued in this manner for several years. Erik developed from a lonely child into a sad adolescent into a bitter man. Finally things came to a head. Vormak, Magnus's shield brother, had recently been slain in a raid upon the Ffolk. Coincidently(or so Marcus would like to have you believe) the next day Erik came into possession of a powerful necromantic scroll. The presence of a freshly deceased corpse and the powerful scroll proved too much temptation for Erik.

That night Vormak's body was laid in state atop the Hill of Ravens, resting upon his funeral pyre to be set alight at the dawn. Erik planned to test the spell late that night while the village and keep were asleep and then simply order the created undead creature to lie back on the pyre to await its fate. In his mind it was the perfect plan. All went well at first, the scroll worked and its dark energies brought unlife to Vormak's corpse. Unfortunately Erik was not as alone as he had planned. His father and brother had come to the hill to pay their respects and had seen Erik perform the foul rite.

Seeing the blasphemy performed upon his shield brother drove Magnus over the edge, "What type of creature have I allowed to live in our midst. You murdered your mother from within the womb. Why is it that your heart is filled with worms instead of the honest fire of the warrior! You have murdered my wife and now you have desecrated my shield brother with your filth. No more. I shall dash your head against the rocks as I should have done upon your birth!"

In surprise and fear Erik scrambled backward as his father rushed at him with murder in his eyes. He wasn't nearly fast enough however and his father was a veteran warrior. Erik was barely able to squeak before Magnus began to throttle the life out of him, and then the world faded to black for Erik.

Moments later Erik struggled back to consciousness. Dazed he looked around, surprised that he yet lived. He noticed a figure squatting a few feet away. As he lifted himself back to his feet he realized who the figure was. Vormak had apparently heard his call and came to his aid and attacked Magnus. Surprised and unarmed his father had been no match for the walking corpse. Vormak now squatted and feasted upon the remains of his former shield brother.

A part of Erik's mind knew he should be distressed by his father's death but all he could feel was elation, he had not merely created some shambling zombie. No he had called a ghoul into being. As he watched it feast upon his father's remains and occasionally let out a contented meep, Erik was filled with pride.

A rising clamor from the village brought Erik back to reality. He cursed profusely, his brother must have escaped and even now was awakening the village. With a sigh he order the ghoul to attack the village, and as it left with its plaintive meeps he regretted the necessity of its sacrifice. Then Erik turned and sprinted into the night as if all of the devils in The Nine Hells were at his heels.

For three days he ran, always imagining he could hear the baying of his pursuers hounds. On the third night, weakened from a lack of food and sleep, he looked up into the sky and had a vision of a Black Sun rising in the west. He walked towards the Black Dawn until he came to a small village filled with outcast Northlanders and exiled Ffolk. They were basking in the light of the black dawn and made worship towards it.

"Another has come," cackled an old crone.

"I followed a black sun and it led me to this place," Erik replied.

"Then this is where The Black Sun wants you to be," the old witch answered.

As the days passed he settled into life in the village under the watchful eye of the crone. Finally she approached him and he told her how he came to be wandering in the forest. She said if he wanted to learn the magic of the dead she could help him but first he must prove himself worthy of the secrets.

"If you wish to learn the secrets of the dead you must first prove the strength of your will," with that the crone had two men in skull masks tie Erik to the trunk of a twisted oak tree in the heart of the forest. On the first night the dead whispered to him, on the second he could hear them howl and on the third he could see them writhing through the night mist. On the morning of the fourth day the crone returned with her acolytes and released him.

"Now you must taste death," with that the old witch slipped a noose around his neck while one of her acolytes tossed the other end of the rope over one of the oak's branches. Erik was jerked off the ground, his feet dancing the hangman's waltz as he slowly strangled. His vision narrowed into black he began to have visions, of a burning sun, a raven flying to the east, of vampires and daggers.

Conscious and the mundane slowly bled back into Erik. "You have drank from the cup of death and sorrow, it is time for the sacrifice. To give something of yourself," the old crone gurgled. Erik nodded and took up the black bladed dagger before him. With a look of serenity upon his face he dug his right eye out of its socket. At that moment a raven alighted on his shoulder. Blood and gore seeped from his ruined eye but with a smile he fed his eye to the bird.

"Erik Wolfsan is gone. Before you now stands Ormhjerte for my heart is full of worms." The crone nodded in understanding.

In the weeks and months that followed the old witch taught Ormhjerte the basics of necromancy. His vision haunted him however and is was not long before he set out to find his purpose a journey that ultimately led to Daggerfall.

Those who bask in the glory of the Black Sun should beware being blinded by its light. Filled with its unholy radiance Ormhjerte failed to notice the bear, and while his heart may be full of worms he fills the belly of the beast.

[Nyarlathotep]

The Folly Of Ravendark
"Not Yet you grinning reaper, I shall master you, not be taken by you."


As a child in the Moonshaes, Colin Deaghaid was taught the faith of the Earthmother, to respect and honor the natural world. When he was thirteen the Druids discovered that Colin was possessed of significant mystical talents so his parents sent him off to be trained as a Druid.
At best Colin was a diffident student. He had the talent and the intelligence but he lacked the desire. When he was fifteen however he witnessed an event that would change his life. He and his teacher were visiting a local farm family when they heard screams. Apparently while plowing a field the farmer had uncovered a skeleton left over from Bhaal's attempt to usurp the Earthmother. Though the skeleton was quickly dispatched Colin was utterly fascinated by the creature that defied nature's laws. His faith in the Earthmother was shattered replaced with a fascination with the mysteries of life and death.


Not long after Colin fled his teachers and the Moonshaes. Fleeing to Waterdeep he took an apprenticeship with Malcolm de Mordentshire. Two months ago Malcolm had Colin undergo a trial whereby Colin left his old self behind and was changed forever. The ordeal was grueling, aging Colin beyond his years. His hair is now a chalky white, and his formerly bright blue eyes are now pale and clouded. The trial scoured Colin's very soul and prepared him to walk the twisting path he had chosen.
Now calling himself Ravendark he set out on his own, only accompanied by his raven familiar, Croaton. He decided to head to Daggerdale because of its history of vampiric activity. Ravendark is of the opinion that an understanding of these creatures is vital to the understanding of the nature of death. Once in Daggerdale things did not go as well for Ravendark as he had planned.

He desired to make contacts with the resident vampires as soon as he could, unfortunately he had no idea where to begin. He tried to ferret information out of local adventurers but they could sense the necromantic energies he had soaked his being with and did not trust him. He took to sending his raven familiar Croaton to spy on the heroes and had some success, but still did not find any leads to the vampires. Finally one intrepid band took notice of the raven and finding it an ill omen shot it from the sky. One even joked that they were lucky it was only a bird and not the eyes of some fell warlock. Little did she know how close her jest was to the truth. Inside his room the shock of his familiars death flowed threw Ravendark driving him to his knees and weakening him. It took him days to work up the strength to rise from his stupor.

While he convalesced he swore vengeance on the heroes that so sorely injured him with the thoughtless attack on his familiar...the names Ladenel, Bakkus, Brysom Silverstone, and Demosaine Delfaere were forever burned into his memory. There had been others but he had been unable to divine their names in his spying, but their faces were known to him.

Alas his vengeance was not to be as one day he happened upon some bodies lying scattered and bloody upon a hilltop. Eager for the opportunity to work on some fresh cadavers rather than the rotting things he had spirited away from the graveyard Ravendark set to work at once. Unfortunately he had failed to consider that the slayers of these noble heroes may still be nearby. The goblins crept up quietly on the young warlock and made short work of him with their rusty swords and primitive spears.

Epilogue:

Necromancers rarely rest peacefully though. That night the Ravendark's battered corpse stirred, filled to bursting with blasphemous energy. He had sought the secrets of the dead now he was one of them and hungry...
The goblins had left a clear trail and the ravenous ghoul had no difficulty tracking them to their lair. Soundlessly it fell upon the first goblin it found. The remaining goblins awoke to the awful screams of their companion and the wet smacking sound of his intestines being chewed. The goblins fled in terror but to no avail as the ghoul feasted upon another one on each successive night. Finally the goblins gone, the creature turned north in search of more flesh to stretch its rotted belly. It was time for Colin to go home...

[Nyarlathotep]

The Black Blade

Character Name: Dubh Lann
Languages: Common, Chondathan, Orc
Physical Description: 6'ft, 197 lbs, vertical scar on face stretching from upper lip to chin, black hair, five O'clock shadow, medium build, tattoo of black blades on forearms.

Father: Saeval Breachad'lae

Saeval is an elven bard who holds humanity in utter contempt and yet finds himself attracted to human females. Thus he seduces human women and stays with them for a time. Eventually however his self loathing and hate will emerge and he leaves, usually inflicting needless cruelties upon his former lovers. In particular he enjoys seducing married women, their faithlessness serving to bolster his own prejudices. It was one such dalliance that resulted in the birth of Dubh Lann.

Saeval is sympathetic to the cause of The Eldreth Veluuthra and occasionally passes information gleaned from his travels to them. For their part The Eldreth Veluuthra consider Saeval little more than a perverted wastrel who t times proves useful.

Saeval is a charmingly handsome Sun Elf bard. Flowing blonde hair, blue eyes and a roguish smile. He hides his contempt for humanity beneath a charming veneer. However he behaves obsequiously in front of his Eldreth Veluuthra contacts.

Mother: Ariadne Gol'dracon

Ariadne was the youngest daughter of a somewhat prosperous merchant in Westgate. As such she led a sheltered quiet life, insulated from the harsh realities of Westgate. When she came of age she married Marcu Cornwather, the scion of another merchant family. Marcu had courted her in the traditional way and everyone involved was pleased that a marriage between the too could be made. A marriage that contained both true affection and mercantile advantages.

Unfortunately Marcu was often away from Westgate traveling with his caravans. It was during one of Marcu's absences that Ariadne first met Saeval. The young woman was no match for the bard's charms and soon found herself engaging in illicit trysts whenever she could get away. It wasn't long before she fell hopelessly in love with the rogue. Inevitably Saeval tired of the affair and broke it off. However he found Ariadne to be a particularly vapid and annoying example of humanity so he committed an act of treacherous cruelty. He informed Marcu of her faithlessness, including love letters she had written. Marcu was devastated and cast Ariadne out of his household, thus she found herself homeless. Her family would not take her back as they were afraid that doing so would jeopardize trade agreements with the Cornwather family.

It was soon after that she realized that she was with child.

Ariadne is a young black haired woman of average proportions and attractive looks. She is somewhat flighty.

Mentor: Il'Ragno Rosso

Il'Ragno is a moderately successful assassin based in Westgate. His professional name is The Red Spider. He earned this name early in his career by slipping an open jar of red spiders into a targets bed. In the morning when the servants went to awaken him, he was found covered in the deadly red spiders. Thus earning Il'Ragno his moniker. He has reached an agreement with the Night Masks of Westgate. He pays them a small rental fee and agrees not to ply his trade within their city and in return he is free to use the city as a safe haven.

The Red Spider is a small, wiry man of an olive skinned complexion who originally hails from Amn. He is black haired and light eyed and is always impeccably dressed and mannered.

Friend: Rusk

Rusk is a grey mountain orc. He serves as Il'Ragno's bodyguard. The Red Spider rescued the orc from the chambers of a priestess of Lovitar upon whom he had completed a contract. Since then Rusk has served The Spider loyally and has become remarkably civilized(for an orc).

Rusk is averaged sized for an Orc but is hunched and stooped due to his trials at the hands of Lovitar's priestess. His eyes are also milky white, the result of hot wax being dripped into his eyes blinding him. Despite this he is still an able fighter.

Dubh Lann

Dubh Lann was born in the back room of a Westgate brothel. Ariadne had taken a room there but was not working there...yet. She named him Pharaxes Gol'Dracon(she had adopted her families surname upon being cast out of her husband's house). The next years were hard, unsuited for life outside the comfortable confines of a merchant family she really had only one marketable skill. Subsequently Pharaxes' early years were spent in the company of harlots as his mother made a living on her back.
When he was eight, Pharaxes met his father for the first and last time. Saeval had come to the brothel to indulge his taste in human women(he had become more circumspect in the intervening years as his involvement with The Eldreth Veluuthra deepened) and was pleasantly surprised to find that Ariadne was working there. When they were alone Ariadne confessed to Saeval that she still loved him and begged him to take her away from the brothel. Saeval laughed and called her a pathetic human whore. Crying she asked then if he could take their son from there. Saeval was horrified, he never imagined that he had begotten a half breed bastard. He tore into Ariadne telling her how he had never loved her, that he had told her husband of the dalliances and that it would be better if she and her race had never been born.

Shaken Saeval headed back to the common room to lose himself in an alcoholic haze, disgusted by the abomination he had brought into the world and frightened that his compatriots in The Eldreth Veluuthra would kill him for this atrocity. He was only stirred from his haze by the screams of a whore and the sobbing of a little boy.

Sometime latter the proprietor of the establishment informed him that Ariadne had committed suicide and that the boy was now his responsibility. Taking the boy he headed into the street. He hurled him into the dust and told him to begone. Thus Saeval left Pharaxes life forever, hoping that the streets of Westgate would swallow the brat.
Pharaxes wandered the streets for hours sobbing silently for it had been he who had found his mother hanging from a rope. It was in this state that Il'Ragno found the boy.

Il'Ragno took pity upon him, and after asking a few questions was able to piece together most of the story(he had already heard about the incident in the brothel). Il'Ragno decided to take the boy in, with the eventual goal of taking him on as his apprentice. He renamed him Dubh Lann. The actual work of raising the boy was handled by the Orc Rusk and Il'Ragno's mistress Shansril. It was Shansril who introduced Dubh Lann to Shar and unsurprisingly given his background he took to its tenets quite readily. Il'Ragno for his part quietly disapproved of this as he found the worship of Shar fatalistic.

Thus Dubh Lann's soul was shaped by a hateful father and a sad acolyte of Shar, his body was trained by a blind orc, and his mind honed by a deadly assassin. Despite this Dubh Lann had a family now. A mother who cared for him in her own sad way, a stern father who prepared him for a trade, and an older brother of sorts who taught him to protect himself.
A year ago this somewhat pleasant state of affairs came to a crashing halt. The Night Masks wanted to renegotiate their agreement with the Red Spider. They were no longer content with his payments he was to join their guild or he could go for a long dark swim in the Sea of Fallen Stars. Il'Ragno refused and began to quietly move his possessions and staff(including Dubh Lann)to a safe house he had prepared in Berdusk.

Il'Ragno and Rusk stayed behind to send a message.

Il'Ragno could not allow it to seem as if he was leaving Westgate in fear, therefore he decide to kill the new night mask lieutenant. It went badly to say the least.

Several weeks later Rusk arrived at the safe house with Il'Ragno in tow. The Night Mask lieutenant was more than he seemed and had crippled Il'Ragno. It was as if the life and blood had been drained from him and only an empty husk of a man remained. Il'Ragno released Dubh Lann from his training, he had already taught him all he knew is was now up to Lann to learn how to perform these things in the real world. Thus Dubh Lann finds himself in Waterdeep.

He quickly found many takers for his skills. Especially a certain woman in a certain tavern. It wasn't long before he was given his first task of import, to eliminate the representative of a rival guild. Putting his lessons into action he easily completed the job. He came upon the mark when he was sleeping off a night of debauchery and quietly sliced his dagger across his neck.

The woman was impressed by his work and invited him to join her association. Given a symbol of the guild, Dubh Lann walked into the night pondering the possibilities. Unfortunately he was so enthused about his new path that he forgot his lessons and never heard the thug following him. He had no idea he was in danger until he felt the blade slip into his back.