Dekar
Dekar
Dekar was the vanguard Captain of the military penal company called "The Butchers." He currently travels with a group that gathered together in Latria, heading East.
Physical Description
General Physical Condition
Dekar is very musclar, having honed his strength to protect himself growing up in a military company. His massive height helps his intimidating presence.
Body Features
Dekar's body is covered in numerous scars from his life in battle. His skin has patches of "scaling" that accentuate his features. His left arm has been injured, and is currently in a mechanical splintbrace that allows him to use Azurewrath proficiently.
Facial Features
Dekar has a scar across his left eye from a battle injury, having lost it in combat. He grows no facial hair, as "scaling" from his draconic lineage forms along his jawline and down his neck.
Identifying Characteristics
Dekar is most easily identified by his height and the massive adamantine greatsword "Azurewrath" that he wields.
Apparel & Accessories
Dekar used to wear magical full plate armor that he wore in honor and remembrance of a dwarf dragon slayer named Tark. He has since returned the armor to the dwarves and wears no armor.
Mental characteristics
Personal history
Dekar was found as an infant by Henry Lutzvern in a village being raided by The Butchers; a penal company of the Empire of Runestone. His parents seemingly slain, Henry came across the unconscious baby as the company was heading out. Seeing the slight scaling marks on his body, Henry recognized the powerful magical lineage that the boy could possess. However, he did not wish to see the child taken away by the Empire to be raised in their Academies. He decided to raise the boy with the group of militants, and teach him how to defend himself.
Dekar's training began as soon as he was able to walk. As a child, he did little more than minor duties: cleaning, gophering around the camp, and carrying things that needed to be. All under the watchful eye of his "father" Henry. Henry Lutzvern was a pyromancer and held high regard even amongst the thieves and rapists that composed the The Butchers. He never let Dekar out of his sight while young, making sure none of the men tried to make use of him.
As he grew, his draconic heritage became more and more apparent, and Henry instructed Dekar to keep himself covered. He wanted to take no chances that the knaves who called The Butchers home could try and sell the boy out to the Empire for some sort of reward, even if just time off their sentence. Coming of age, Dekar was trained with all manner of weapons, and his large stature made it easy to wear armor suited for adults. He kept his face hidden behind his helmet, trusting none save for his father, and always kept a blade within arm's reach.
Into adulthood, Dekar eventually rose to status within The Butchers as well, being promoted to their Vanguard captain. He wielded a large greatsword, his incredible strength turning him into a force of nature on the battlefield.
Gender Identity
Dekar identifies as male.
Sexuality
Until recently, Dekar had not known the touch of a woman, and the unsavory characters he lived with had certainly destroyed any idea of being with a man. He has found himself attracted to strong women, whether it be in a mental or a physical sense. Someone that can keep up with him excites him, as well as women of strong personality. Despite this, he has grown into a relationship with Inira, and the two have been intimate several times.
Education
Growing up under the tutelage of pyromancer Henry Lutzvern, Dekar was taught how to read and write in the common tongue, and even memorized a small number of spells. Not as studious as his father, he knew that most spells would not be as potent as those cast by a trained spellcaster, and thus sought to learn spells that could help others or buff himself without a need for potency.
Employment
While he didn't formally join The Butchers until he had come of age, Dekar has only known employment through the Empire. He learned numerous skills during his time with the military, but felt a strong fondness for blacksmithing in particular.
Accomplishments & Achievements
If one were to ask the man himself, Dekar would say that he had accomplished nothing in his lifetime. His father and fellow soldiers would all agree that they owed him their lives. He doesn't see his promotion to Captain as an accomplishment, but rather an acknowledgement of his skill and prowess and someone's ideal of using people where they are best suited.
Failures & Embarrassments
Dekar had never truly felt himself a failure until the death of his friend Garrik. He had sought to go down fighting to the death with his dwarf ally until his eyes opened after that brutal battle. His party fled, the enemy mostly retreated, Dekar let the anger of his failure fuel him, and carrying his friend's body, carried him for 3 days back to Ironkeep for his body to be given a proper dwarven burial.
Mental Trauma
Dekar's trauma stems directly from his time with The Butchers. The fear of death left him from an early age due to constantly being around battle and corpses. Due to the need to hide his true appearance, Dekar has been keeping his feelings largely to himself to prevent anyone getting too close to him. Until his helmet was destroyed, the only person to have seen him without his helmet is his father Henry. He found it hard to integrate with people until he found himself in the dwarven hold of Ironkeep. Slowly he has opened up to his party, and to Inira particularly.
Intellectual Characteristics
Dekar has a rudementary knowledge of the world, and can speak a couple of languages. He's of average intelligence and wisdom, capable of learning a few spells. He knows little of the way of politics, and cares about it even less. Not quite a "mindless brute", he does tend to keep his focus on the areas he excels at; typically anything physical.
Morality & Philosophy
What little morality Dekar has was taught to him by his father Henry while growing up. Even amongst the shady characters that were conscripted into The Butchers, Henry had let him know what most of them had done, and why it was deemed a punishable offense. He cares little until he's tasked with enforcing laws, but will unleash his full force upon someone who crosses him or his allies. His "loyalty" to the Empire died with his father.
Taboos
None.
Personality Characteristics
Motivation
Dekar has seen a great deal of wrong with the world, and seeks to fix it. Having learned of a mortal who became a god and in turn even killed other gods, he seeks a way to gain the power to fix the world.
Savvies & Ineptitudes
He does his best work on his back. However, he's inept at social graces or talking about his feelings.
Likes & Dislikes
Dekar likes cats, dwarves, spending time with Inira, and the feel of his body burning with adrenaline during combat.
Dekar hates spiders.
Social
Contacts & Relations
Henry Lutzvern (Deceased)
Garek (Deceased)
Inira (girlfriend?)
Inara Edhelhael
Damien von Carstein
Grimaldus
Family Ties
Dekar never knew his real parents, and his adoptive father Henry Lutzvern was killed during the Latria betrayal of The Butchers.
Religious Views
Dekar is not a spiritual man by nature. He does not pray to any gods, but acknowledges their power, having seen their clerics and paladins and the power they wield. Having heard of a mortal who gained god-like power and even slain several other gods, Dekar strives to acquire strength similarly so that he can try to fix the things he perceives as wrongs with the world.
Social Aptitude
Dekar is familiar with militaristic social graces, but little else. As a soldier of the Empire, he never bothered to deal with politics or be seen as a representative of his unit. This was largely in part so that his lineage would not come under scrutiny.
Mannerisms
The door explodes.
Hobbies & Pets
Dekar likes animals in general but does not keep any as pets. He moves around too much. He likes to smith as a hobby and also as a way to calm himself.
Speech
Dekar does not have any particular accents or stutters.
Wealth & Financial state
What is wealth?
Dekar was taken in since birth by a military penal company known as The Butchers. His lineage was kept a secret by his surrogate father Henry Lutzvern (Deceased) to protect him from the Empire.
View Character Profile
Alignment
Neutral Good
Honorary & Occupational Titles
Captain of the Vanguard
Honorary Dwarf
Age
Approximately 25
Date of Birth
Unknown
Birthplace
Crastvangrad(?)
Children
Current Residence
Traveling
Gender
Male
Eyes
Blue
Hair
Golden Blonde
Skin Tone/Pigmentation
Slightly tanned
Height
7'3"
Weight
280 lbs
Quotes & Catchphrases
The door explodes.
I hate this place.
I don't like being around these people. They remind me of the Butchers too much. Elves and men, warriors and wizards, all mixed together and none of them want to be here. I feel some tensions between them, and I think its rubbing off. Inara in particular seems to be.. well, trying to deal with what's going on and given her history, it hasn't been going too well. I wanted to give her time to gather herself, deal with the land we're in and what we're to face here, but the others can't seem to leave well enough alone. Inira in particular. Her and Grimaldus seem to think Inara is not in her right headspace, but I know she just needs time. I need to speak with her soon. I have some questions of my own that I need to ask her. I know we've been butting heads but I think she may need my counsel soon as much as I need hers.
The Butcher
Pre-Campaign
My tale begins in the burning ruins of a small township of people. Barely 500 souls occupied the area and called it home. At least, that’s what I was told. It was found only on local maps, as by and large it was of no significance to the rest of the world. I don’t even remember its name. Neither did my “father” Henry. For reasons I was never told, the town was overrun by a group of penal soldiers of the Empire known only as The Butchers. They razed the town to the ground, and of the known survivors, I was the only one. Before I go too much further, I should elaborate on The Butchers and their role in the world, and how they came to be destroying my place of birth.
The Butchers were an arm of the military force of Runestone, led by a pyromancer named Henry Lutzvern. It began as a penance squad where criminals of all sorts were sentenced to serve out their time in restitution to the kingdom of Runestone. It was made up largely of murders and rapists - those who were sentenced to life imprisonment - as well as those petty criminals who just accumulated such a history within the Runestone justice system that they were deemed a menace to society.
The Grand City of Runestone is a city whose only woes are self-inflicted. The people enjoy imported sugar and spices unlike anywhere else in the Smoking Seas and its lands are vast and fertile. However, easy times breed decadence and corruption. The Empire has suffered much from nepotism and abuse of the peasantry. The knightly orders who were once the sword of the Empire are now just decorated peacocks traversing the streets of imperial cities. The countryside is rife with the dangers of highwaymen and mercenaries turned bandit. The Empire is a mixed state of Feudal vassals, The Church of the Three, and knightly orders all following the Emperor of Runestone. A nation of relative prosperity with a strong love for the culinary arts. The Empire’s core lands of Runestone are linked together by the Emperor who binds them, The Church of the Three who keeps religion aligned with the Arch Lector’s wishes, and the Legions who provide safety and an escape from the drudgery of everyday life.
During my time with my father, he never told me of the events that led to him leading The Butchers, only that he was stripped of his lands and noble titles and made to lead the penal squad as punishment. While I can’t fathom whatever it was he may have done or could have happened to him, he certainly felt that being the leader of this group was a better deal than trying to desert and be persecuted. The Butchers were expected to be wiped out, with a certainty, but the nobles did not expect him to lead his soldiers to victory as often as he did. Perhaps something to do with his pyromantic abilities? I would put money on it. Henry was a tactician, and taught me much growing up. Moreover, many of the men who came and went through the ranks of The Butchers often found themselves highly motivated and moralized due to his presence. Why would one fear a forest ambush when you could just burn the forest down? He was as cold and ruthless on the battlefield as his flames were hot. He was unforgiving to anyone standing opposite him, and supported anyone standing alongside him. It was likely this attitude that gained him some respect amongst the criminals he gathered to fill his ranks. I don’t believe anyone ever dared to attack him in his sleep or even considered robbing him. A few “accidental” bonfires starting alongside some missing recruits tend to make one… connect the dots.
The Butchers were known for getting the job done, despite their status as completely expendable. What man of power cared that a criminal died to further their cause? None, of course. They were not an undefeated squad of elite warriors by any means, either. No, the survival of The Butchers was solely the work of Henry himself, and those few men who came to accept their position within The Butchers and made the most of it; helping Henry and keeping the squad in order. Even still, Henry never really had full control of the men. Staying in larger cities often led to misdeeds he would hear about from townsmen; women raped, items stolen, buildings damaged, that sort of thing. It was a give and take of maintaining order amongst those he commanded over. While he would love to just never have the men stay within city walls, the restlessness and resentment that would grow among the men would just grow to be too much and become chaos. To that end, he did try to keep away from cities and towns as much as possible, but there was certainly no avoiding it all together. I’m sure he had to look the other way from many things he would rather not have to.
When Henry found me, I was an infant - unable to take care of myself in any way. How he managed to keep me alive during the early days of my life, I have no idea. He told me once, when I inquired about it, that he would hire nursemaids to come with us for periods of time, usually between towns, and take care of me. A few times he joked that sometimes when he picked up a new batch of “recruits” from an Imperial town that there would be a woman or two among them, and their duties for a time included taking over my care. He never gave me a straight, serious answer. I don’t remember anything from that time, either. Given the nature of our little band, no one from those times aside from Henry are even still living.
He told me, the secret of my bloodline was apparent to him from the moment he found me. It was because of his knowledge of arcane study that he knew the signs that gave away my lineage, but it didn’t become physically apparent to the untrained for several years. Not until I hit my 5th or 6th birthday. Other than the hair on my head, I began “scaling” (as I call it) in places where normal men grow hair. Most prominently up my arms and around my neck and jawline. Starting from the age I could hold a weapon, I began learning how to fight. With a dagger, at first. Then the short sword, longsword, and eventually a great sword. For many years I just thought we were playing a game. While I trained in shield use, I didn’t care much for it. The Butchers never carried around children-sized items, so I had to make due with what I had, which meant holding a larger weapon with both hands and dealing with it. It was awkward at first, the grips of each weapon being so much bigger, and it was difficult to keep hold of. I remember Henry’s first real weapons training with me was to be able to maintain my grip. It was easy for an adult to knock a weapon out of my hands.
While I did not stand on the field of battle for many more years, my hands drew blood and took the life of men well before the Empire recognized my deeds on the field. As I stated, my father tried to keep The Butchers away from cities where and when he could. Now, with a young child running around, and usually a woman or two to take care of him, we were frequently the target of men who sought reprieve from their.. loneliness. At first they sated themselves with the women. Keeping quiet so as not to let Henry find out, I could only look on in horror as they hid me before they came, demanding I make no sound to give away my presence. Any man caught found their life’s candle quickly snuffed out by Henry, but he could not save them all. Eventually, some dared to be bold enough to come after me. I soon found that “playing” swords with my father was not just a game, but a fact of life I needed to understand was of paramount importance.
As the years went on, I eventually hit puberty like all men, and experienced a growth spurt like no other. I eventually grew to tower over men, and my “scaling” had become such that Henry bade me wear a helmet at all times to conceal myself. Henry rarely spoke to me like a child once I was able to comprehend what I was told. It was in seriousness when he explained to me that the Empire takes children of magical aptitude and bloodlines, and he would not see me become a victim to such a fate. So I did as he told me, and wore my helmet at all times whenever possible. As I grew into adult clothing, I began wearing my armor nearly constantly as well, afraid that someone may catch a glimpse at my scaling and try to… sell me out to the empire in exchange for.. I don’t know. Coin, maybe a release from this death sentence.
I found a release through our deeds in battle. The anger I felt at my lot in life became a power I would utilize in combat. I felt my blood boil when an enemy stood before me. It was.. intoxicating, at such a young age. I didn’t realize for quite some time that it was the power of my blood that kept me alive for so long. I thought I had found some meaning to my life in my role within the Butchers. Over time, I had even risen to the rank of Captain within our unit. Of course, my father played no favorites when it came to rewards and merits. If anything I was overly judged. I had learned many of my father’s ways in how he treated the other men, and the respect it afforded him. I did the same for those I held position over, and while there may have been a few people that I afforded more trust than others, I never revealed my truth to them, or even considered them a “friend.”
In time we found ourselves in Latria, under orders to assist a local nobleman named Fairmane with a growing beastman problem that was terrorizing the territory. We found ourselves on the other side of a large force of Lathan rebels before we could meet up with Fairmane and, as usual, we kept to our namesake and butchered them all. As I was walking the field to take count of our losses, Henry called me over to him. Standing next to him was a beautiful woman in a red dress, unlike anyone I had seen before. He told me to do what she asks of me, and to proceed with her ahead of our unit to deliver her safely to Fairmane as she had some sort of business with him.
My life has never been the same since…
Something to remind you
We’re about to enter a cursed city. Home of “uncivilized” vampires, even by the denizen’s of Loec’s standards. I hear tell that a piece of the Father of Monsters I’ve been collecting is being used in conjunction with one of Rowan’s guardian trees to do.. something. I forget what. My mind has been.. unfocused since I saw Henry again.
On our way, there was a chapel of sorts. A Chapel of Guilt, they called it. They offered to let you bathe in the waters within and be absolved of your sins. Needing a bath anyways, I partook of their offer of “forgiveness” for a chance to bathe in the hot spring that was there. When I stepped in, the steam from the water seemed to overtake me, and I was separated from Rowan and Inira whom I came with. Then, I saw them. The shadows of the Butchers. The souls of those unable to leave this place and make it to the other side, for the curse keeps their spirits and bars their way. Henry was there, looking for me. I found as I approached him that he could see me. He was wandering the Fugue, he said. And that something in the shadows stalks them there, ripping apart their spirits. A claim that was echoed by the three Sorrows who guards he Hill of Suicides. I almost drew my blade against my allies this day. The Sorrows were keeping those who sacrificed themselves on the Hill from going to the Fugue Plane, where I now know a creature sundering the souls of those wandering there from this curse exists. But I stayed my hand. I have a feeling Inara will feel I betrayed her. Her wrath is something I will have to endure. I will explain when I can.
We have taken camp outside of this cursed city with Gerard and his allies, in preparation for our trek within. I don’t trust these men, as I do not trust Gerard himself - a man who believes he needs another’s power to reclaim his former strength of a Paladin. The very idea of it spits in the face of what it means to be a Paladin. The strength of one’s oath is not where a Paladin derives their strength from. It is something you pull from within. The concept seems lost on him, I feel, and my party seems more than willing to accept his help for now. This feeling reminds me of the old days with the Butchers, when we’d have to sleep with one eye open.
There was a song we used to sing among the men back in those days. It was written by a bard who came into our ranks after he was arrested for gods-know-what. Probably for just being a bard, if I had to guess. But.. it will likely be the man’s greatest work. It resounded with us all, and I still recall it now just as vividly as I did in my youth…
0/~ So this is it
I say goodbye
To this chapter of my ever-changing life
And there's mistakes
The path is long
And I'm sure I'll answer for them when I'm gone
So when the day comes and
The sun won't touch my face
Tell the ones who cared enough
That I finally left this place
That's been so cold
Look at my face
All the stories it will tell I can't erase
The road is long
Just one more song
A little something to remind you when I'm gone
When I'm gone
The road to hell
Along the way
Is paved with good intentions so they say
And some believe
That no good deed
Goes unpunished in the end or so it seems
So when the day comes and
The sun won't touch my face
Tell the ones who care enough
That I finally left this place
That's been so cold
Look at my face
All the stories it will tell I can't erase
The road is long
Just one more song
A little something to remind you when I'm gone
When I'm gone
So this is it
I say goodbye
To this chapter of my ever-changing life
And there's mistakes
The path was long
And I'm sure I'll answer for them when I'm gone
When I'm gone… o/~
A long but uneventful day
Oct 1, 2021
The news from the elf was not what I was expecting. Apparently all he had completed was an analysis of the body parts I’d brought back. He warned me of what an item I’m requesting could do in the wrong hands, but did not say he would not make it. Inara was here, and she was rather apprehensive about my decision to have such a weapon made. Given her history with the Staff of Changes, I’m not all too terribly surprised, but at the same time, she offered me no alternative to my path. So I told the elf I still wanted the weapon made, and he agreed to do it. I still need the brain from Vignir, however. I’m not looking forward to doing all of that still.
The others had their things they wanted taken care for the day, and I apparently woke too late for my love. Inira left before I was roused to follow Grimaldus and assist him with his bandit assaulting. The others were still about when I came out of my room, but I largely ignored them. Inara and I did not exactly end the night prior on a good note, upset as she was that I still wanted the god-slaying weapon made. I cooked some food for myself and left on my own, though Hassim did try to get some information from me before I left.
Going into town, I decided to buy some new clothes. I’d been wearing the same thing since we left Latria, and they looked tattered and ragged. I borrowed some inspiration from other people browsing the bazaar, and got an outfit more region-appropriate. I decided I did not need any armor for now; it would only be more restricting. Also I’m sure Inira wouldn’t mind the look. Having not spent most of my money for quite some time, I had a small sum to spend, and decided to spare no expense in this. I accentuated my clothes with gold; boots, belt, bracers and bands. A fine look for a god-slayer. I sent a message to the others later on in the day, having forgotten that Hogar had summoned for us the night before.
For the remainder of the day I used my time in trying to create a new art. The bond I have created with my weapons allows me to summon them from anywhere on the same plane as me, but what if I could teleport myself to my weapon? The implications excite me. I have seen Secilia use a similar sort of magic with her amulet so I know it is possible.
The meeting with Hogar was… a thing. He wants me to get a ring of mind shielding to protect myself from the dragon in the Nameless City, but I don’t understand why he doesn’t just get one for himself? They don’t seem quite that rare…
Oh what a night..
Sept 17, 2021
Last night was amazing. Inira and I are no strangers to each others’ body by now, but I did not expect that. Once we separated from the others and took to our room, we disrobed and got into the bath together. It was the first hot bath I've had in ages, it seems, and quickly after entering the water, it began to soothe away every ache and pain I had, though, admittedly.. it may not have been the water soothing my body. As we slipped in together, I pulled Inira’s against me and our lips met as if we’d been apart for years. The yearning between us was almost palpable. Through my skin I could feel the slight temperature difference of her pale skin, and the coolness was a comfort I did not know I needed. As my body runs warms from the nature of my blood, the touch of her skin against my own was as a salve I knew not existed. The steam that arose from us cleared my nostrils and took her in scent deeply as I pressed my face to her neck. I bared my teeth in thought of biting her, as the desire to do so was powerful in the moment, but I restrained myself; something I cannot say for my mate, thankfully. Her teeth were not so sharp as mine to my dismay but she came at me with a ferocity I did not expect. I had never been bitten in a.. lustful manner before, and the rush was exhilarating. Her nails scraped along my body in her zeal, and I met her at every step, to the limit of her pain tolerance. I felt she had a particular.. “affinity” for blood, as it were, but I had never imagined such a fetish before. Once the gates were open, we let each other in to our deeper desires, and explored the things which we thought would just be fantasy. The garments she wears afield certainly do her body no justice to her actual appearance, and my fingertips shall not soon forget every curvature of her form. I find myself drowning her in her eyes; a blue that seems to glow in otherworldly light that’s almost intoxicating. At one point she had my back pressed against the edge of the bath, she sat up straight as she mounted me, so that she could look down at me for once, and her hair cascaded down from her head and made this silken tunnel that blocked out the rest of the world beyond us. It was there that I found a happiness I did not know existed within me.
My life as a child growing up within the Butchers was devoid of what ‘normal’ children experience. There was no time for fun and games. My backyard was a battlefield, littered with enemies who would kill me, rape me, maybe both. In either order. Instead of toys I was given weapons, and taught how to use them. I had killed my first man before my age reached double digits. The sights of gore and bloodshed was commonplace; almost a daily occurrence. As my blood began manifesting aspects of its nature, Henry went through great lengths to conceal me from the others, but there was only so much one man can do. The ranks of the Butchers ebbed and flowed like the tides, large swathes of men dying every battle, only to be renewed at the next Imperial outpost with the dregs of the Empire, made to suffer the sentence of their crimes in a life-service to the crown on the battlefield. I know not how many men I killed who tried to make toy of me, but no one ever questioned a criminal dead outside the tents of our camps. “Love” was never a real emotion I fancied that I’d feel.
I found myself frequently just holding her face so that I might gaze into her eyes as we intertwined. At first she would give me a look of worry or confusion; I think she believed there was something wrong by my demeanor. Eventually, she would just smile back at me as I smiled at her, and lean into my hand. She often would trace her fingertips down my body, much like I had hers, and just.. touched me. Anywhere. Everywhere. As if she also wanted to impart each moment to memory. It makes me smile to think back on it, and the few instances I caught her biting her lip just a little as she did so. We partook of each other many times, all over the room wherever there was space. I was admittedly very fond of the bath.
As the small hours of night dwindled away, we found ourselves curled up in bed, and I began to read to her the book we had purchased. It was written in lokharic, the draconic alphabet, and to my surprise, she could not read it. I don’t fancy myself an intellectual by any means (and nor, I assume, would anyone else) but I was taken aback that she did not know the old script. And so, I began teaching her the tongue of my bloodline. The draconic language is harsh, and has hard consonants and sibilants that usually sounded like hissing when spoken and included a sound similar to a creature clearing its throat. Her early attempts at imitating it was disastrous, but she began picking up the nuances of the language quickly. She’s quite deft with her tongue, after all. It will take many more lessons before she would be fluent, especially if I can’t keep my hands off her as I did this night, but I look forward to the tutelage going forward. As we depleted our stamina, we eventually went to bed together. She looks almost peaceful curled up under my arm, with her head on my chest. I fear for any troubling dreams she may have, but I can only do so much as I am now…
When I awoke the next morning, I found Inira had woken before me, and went out to cook breakfast. I put on some breeches I found and left my room to find the others. I was offered a drink from Hassim as I entered; it was a bitter liquid (if it could be called that) but not entirely unpleasant. It reminded me of something my father would drink some times, though I know not where he got it from. It was highly coveted at any rate. I stepped over to help my beloved cook, but the others were more surprised to see her cooking, appalled that we had been using rations this whole time instead of cooked meals. I’m pretty sure they knew I kept my mess kit with me from my time as a soldier, but I decided not to bring it up. I found her cooking to be delicious, and only served to compliment the meats that were brought in from the establishment help. I would like to cook with her more often, I find. Share more time with her in doing the more mundane things. The quail were small, but their bones are brittle and hollow, and so I learned long ago to eat them in one go. It seemed to disturb the others, I think. Larger birds are tastier, I think.
As we planned what we would do for the day so we could regroup later, we actually all decided to go see the Axiomite elf smith that could give me some information on these body parts I was collecting, and the others wanted something else from him too, but I didn’t pay that any mind. Before we left I had Grimaldus and Hassim assist me with removing my damaged arm via glaive. Inara thought me mad, but once I explained that Grimaldus could cast a Regeneration spell and I would regrow my arm, she seemed less apprehensive at the idea. Hassim’s time as an assassin and knowledge of anatomy served us well in this endeavor. He cut the arm cleanly at the shoulder and there were no issues in regrowing my arm within the next few minutes. To my surprise, I found that my left eye had regrown as well, and I could see clearly once more. Grimaldus Gentle Repose’d my severed arm and I took it with us. If dragon parts had been used to create artifacts in the past, perhaps something could be done with mine.
Inira mentioned wanting to make some money, but when I asked her how much she needed, she didn’t have an answer. I have some money to spare I would gladly give to her, as I don’t spend nearly anything except for essentials. I decided I would try to make some money as well then, in case she wanted something expensive. It could wait until after the elf, however. Speaking of which, in true elf fashion, the man’s tower was 300 feet off-shore, and stuck 50 feet up into the open air, as if some misplaced lighthouse that had its foundation washed away by the ravages of time and water. It was obvious that the entrance was meant to dissuade the magically disinclined, but I was not put off. I would not be denied. So I swam. Spitting in the face of this man’s expectations, I swam out to the tower and scaled the side of it. While it was clear that the rest of my party seemed exasperated at my display, I didn’t care. It wasn’t for their benefit.
It took some discussion, but the elf eventually accepted my request. He took the two items from me with instructions that he would summon me when it was finished. Time to get some work. I found myself talking to a.. unicorn? It was a horse, with a singular horn, but it spoke imperial. It told me of an adult blue dragon that was terrorizing the trade routes along with a horde of kobolds. Without any good leads to go on, and needing time to work out a strategy for dealing with the creature, I shifted my focus on searching for the body part I was told to be in this city. The brain of the Father of Monsters lead me to the necropolis underneath the city, where I had the unfortunate luck of running into Vignir once again. After a mind-numbing conversation, he revealed that he had the item I was seeking, in a lead-lined box, and would give it to me if I go murder one of Hassim’s “Great Masters” and his daughter, who was apparently a gorgon. I’m not sure what that is, but I will ask one of the mages later.
Late that night, after we had all gone to bed, we received a visitor from Hogar. Another small creature. He didn’t even come up to my cock. I forgot to put my pants on, but I detest late night visitors. Hogar wanted to see us tomorrow. Whatever. I’ll let them all know in the morning. Once it left, a small machine like the one from the Axiomite’s Tower appeared before I could even shut the door again. It bared a simple message: It’s completed. I threw on some pants, and in the middle of the night, ran as fast as I could back to the elf’s Tower on the edge of town….
I got to make up for that hafla
Before I could even move on the hydra, a bunch of different weirdo priests piled out of the Tower. Doesn't matter. The battle continued, as it does. I don't remember much of the fight save that there was a man as tall as me, and another man with a spear which I broke in his face. I find myself not keeping memories of most of my battles these days. I blame it on the raging, but I don't know for sure. I'm not trying to chronicle my life.
There was a brief pause when the priests were defeated, and I hear the hydra within the city walls. I know not the opportunity I would get again, so I needed to claim my prize while I can. Most of the others decided to stay at the Tower, but I rushed for the beast. I left Azurewrath behind for now; it would slow me as I ran. I did not think to be able to slay the beast on my own; with it having "eaten" or at least somehow having assimilated the tree Rowan had been going on about, I figure it would be enhanced somehow, and I still find myself lacking in magical armament.
Instead I decided to focus on my goal. Knowing that the object I needed was a rib, I concentrated my efforts on it's body. I jumped at the beast, summoning Azurewrath into my hands and drove the blade deep into it's side. I cut it open large enough for a man to fit into, which was exactly my plan. Though acid was part of its blood and it burned my flesh as I held on, I pushed myself into it's body to look for the rib in question. Someone touched my ass at some point during this endeavor, I know not who. I managed to push most of the way inside of its body, reaching around for anything to grab onto. I managed to grab onto a rib, grasping around blindly inside of it as I was, and with a jerk of the creature's body, the rib snapped away and I fell out, somehow holding the artifact I sought in my hand.
We left the creature to rampage the rest of the city as we made our way back to the tower to regroup. There was a teleportation circle at the top of the tower that took us to Wei Jang. I don't like the coincidence. Did the Dog somehow plan this? Orchestrate these events, perhaps? I don't know. At this very second I feel like complete shit. I've been drinking before this started, been fighting non-stop, and just dove into a Hydra with acid blood to pull out an extra rib someone put inside the thing for gods-know-what reason, and then suddenly standing in front of a giant woman..-cat.. statue. Surrounded by undead in uniforms going about like automatons.
Eventually the Woman-cat began speaking a language I could understand, so I asked about the items I had and who might help me. She directed me to an ancient elf, an Axiomite I believe she called him. I'll have to go see him later. Another man like me appeared, and stated we could stay under his care in the.. magic quarter? I don't remember. I never forgot Henry's lessons. I wasn't about to go to the "Magic Quarter" to the whim of a man of similar lineage as me for an unknown reason. That's precisely the type of shit Henry was protecting me from while I was growing up.
We made it.. somewhere. I forgot in all the horror of some ASSHOLE CASUALLY STROLLING AROUND ATOP A COVERED SPIDER LIKE IT WASN'T A FUCKING THING.
I dunno. We ended up at a whorehouse. I paid for the best room they had available. After we debriefed in Grimaldus' room for awhile to sort of.. make plans here, as it were, we split off and Inira and I went back to our room. It's good to have a period of time to ourselves. First we're going to bathe, then I'm going to fuck this girl's brains out until she can't walk straight, and then while she's bed-ridden we're going to read this book together. It's written in draconic and she isn't versed, so.. it'll be nice. We'll need to talk about our plans at some point too. I want her to be clear on my goals, and I need to know where she stands too. I'm... very very fond of her.. I don't want her stabbing me in the back down the road because I end up doing something outside her ideals or faith or whatever else it is that drives her.
Whatever it is, I'm thankful for this room, this bath, and the pleasant company. I guess missing the hafla wasn't all that bad, in the end.
We better have another Halfa
There’s to be a party of some sort. I’ve been waiting for this. Needing some downtime to myself. We met an old woman selling books in this town. I don’t remember its name. Or the woman’s name. Half of the party went to look for Grimaldus’ contact in town, while I remained with the women who stopped at the book seller. The gnome returned as well, but paid me little attention. All the same to me.
Grimaldus worked out the details for some party he calls a Halfa. Apparently there’s drinking, fighting, and sex. I couldn’t be more excited for this. Idly, I wonder how many of the women in our party have actually had sex. They seem to react to the mention of sex in any form with disdain, and being virgins is the only reason I can think of. That’s their choice, of course, but it’s literally one of the most basest instincts humans have. ..I guess it does say something that Inira is actually the only human among the women, and has a differing view from the others.
Some priests crossed our paths in the street, and Grimaldus challenged the head priest among them to a “debate” upon religion at the base of the Tower here in town. We let them go to continue our preparations for the hafla.
There was a lot of drinking. The merchant’s wine was good. No one could drink against me, though the little gnome tried, Meriwald wanted to but was stopped by Inara, and oddly the wine merchant himself gave me a run for my money, 5 people, and he still nearly died if not for Grimaldus interferring. The priests came out as expected, and I quickly jumped into the brawl. No weapons. No armor. Just a fair man-to-man fist fight. Someone tried to cast some spells at us, but was stopped by Inara and Inira. I tried to pursue, but they were on a disc that allowed them to fly, so they kept out of range. However, as they attempted to escape Secilia’s summon managed to kill them. Having noticed they possessed an extra eye, I followed the trail of the body, and ripped the mummified appendage from their body.
While excited of my victory, and the fact that I don’t have to go track down every person in this town for the person who had it, my celebration will have to wait. A roar is signalling the arrival of the Hydra we’d also been tracking. The next item on my list is delivering itself right to me.
This might be better than missing the orgy, even.
Part 2
I finally asked Inara to cast Dream on me to try and piece together my memories from when I was banished. There was.. a dog. A black dog. A mountain of corpses with a gold light. Henry appeared as well, but the mmemory of the dream fades even now as I write this. Secilia knows of this dog, and refuses to tell me its name, though she has bade me to kill it for her. Strange woman.
This.. Black Pyramid holds the answers I seek, but I know not what will happen when I arrive there. There’s a lot I still don’t know. About this, and the world in general. I’ve been given.. instructions. To collect a series of items.. A rib.. an eye.. a brain.. 3 of 11. One at this tower, one from the Hydra in the swamp, and one in the city of Wei Jang.
I have found more and more lately that my patience for people has been becoming significantly shorter. Hm.. Is it my patience? Is it perhaps my empathy for people has diminished? No longer holding a role or title within an organization finally allowing me to drop the veneer of patience I was required to wear? Has my mask of humanity finally fallen away? I don’t know. I don’t care enough to really reflect upon the truth of it. I know what I need to do, and I will not be stopped in this.
The world is falling to ruin. Everywhere I go, the gods have either neglected their worshipers or directly just caused problems. I believe in a balance. But all I’ve witnessed is gods terrorizing the world, or worse yet, doing nothing to repair the carnage or deliver succor until their people. I will not be such a man. Once I have the power to fix this world, I shall travel, and bring justice and hope to this world once more; I will strike down any who oppose me.
My thoughts
I’m not sure how I feel about what’s going on right now.
I came along for my own reasons, as well as to help Grimaldus, but it feels like I’m just being dragged into other people’s problems. I want to talk to Inara for her assistance. It’s been some time since that vampire teleported me out to that desert. The recollection has been slipping from my mind as of late, and I’m afraid that even if we happened across that place I’m searching for, I wouldn’t know it.
I feel a cold about me. Not so much the temperature around me, but.. more like a lack of warmth. I don’t know. It’s hard to describe.
It’s good to have Inira around again. I missed her while I was gone. It’s nice to have some companionship; someone I don’t feel the need to hide around. I’ve come a long way since meeting her. I no longer use armor to hide myself for fear of persecution. I am no longer ashamed of what I am.
It’s obvious that I’m descended from a gold dragon somewhere in my lineage, but who knows how or when. I feel like Henry would tell me not to let where I come from distract me from where I’m going. A person doesn’t reach their destination by watching the path behind them. I miss Henry. Grimaldus sort of reminds me of him, in a way. Perhaps that’s why I so readily agree with/follow him? I wish someone had the answers I seek, if just to close that chapter of my life.
I don’t know how she feels about it, but I worry about what will happen between Inira and I when she fully understands that I’m trying to kill The Blood Lord. Shard. I also worry about what I may need to sacrifice along the way to do so. Even I don’t believe that Shard gained the power he did without sacrifice; and if I’m out here, trying to follow in his footsteps to gain the same power.. will I become like him? A vampire? A force of evil and destruction that will further plunge this world into Chaos? Will I even still be me? I don’t know. I suppose that’s part of why I decided to come out here. To find these answers as well.
