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Paths of Legend: The Sunless Citadel [OOC]
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<blockquote data-quote="Yttermayn" data-source="post: 4625916" data-attributes="member: 31390"><p>I have been wanting to play a warlock in one opf your games forever!</p><p></p><p>I have one ready to go. Will post him as soon as I find him...</p><p></p><p>Oh, hear he is. I will get all the stats converted to plain text in a little bit. I have to go make some money right now...</p><p></p><p>Str 13</p><p>Dex 14</p><p>Con 12</p><p>Int 10</p><p>Wis 10</p><p>Cha 17</p><p></p><p>Yarvok is pragmatic to the point of ruthlessness. At the age of 16,</p><p>much to his mothers delight, his warlock powers began to manifest. He</p><p>had no idea who his father was. His mother was a witch, living out her</p><p>existence and raising her son in the sheltering embrace of a dark</p><p>forest. Yarvok had never really had any interest in the dark arts his</p><p>mother continuously pressed him towards, but ultimately, she won THAT</p><p>little contest. One day, as he was doing his favorite activity, (target</p><p>shooting with a crossbow he had been given for his birthday) his mother</p><p>approached him. He ignored her as was his usual response, until her</p><p>hand came to rest gently on his hip. "Such a handsome young man..." she</p><p>started. Yarvok paused, his aiming eye rolling to glance back at her as</p><p>she pressed herself uncomfortably close. "Have I ever told you of your</p><p>father? His name is Mae-" Yarvok never heard the rest. Baleful images</p><p>suddenly clouded his mind and his eyes. In them, he saw his mother,</p><p>much younger than she was now. She was speaking in a foul sounding</p><p>language to a dark, man shaped figure. Two pinpoints of white hot light</p><p>emanated from where the figures eyes should have been. The figure held</p><p>out a peice of parchment. His mother drew a small blade and sliced her</p><p>wrist, dribbling it on the parchment and smearing the blots into an</p><p>arcane mark. The dark figure then rolled up the parchment and consumed</p><p>it. The scene then changed, and now his mother wakes in the middle of</p><p>the night, finding a dark and familiar shape standing at the end of her</p><p>bed. In an instant, the figure is on her, and Yarvok understands what</p><p>he's seeing to be the night of his conception. Through inborn infernal</p><p>logic, he comes to understand the nature of the deal struck by his</p><p>mother: She sold the soul of her yet unmade child to some abysal being.</p><p>She sold HIS soul. His fury overwhelmed him and he lashed out, not with</p><p>his body, but with the arcane fire that seethed within him! He heard a</p><p>deep, resonant, and thouroughly vile laughter in his mind, and when his</p><p>vision cleared, his mother lay before him - dead. The same voice</p><p>sounded again "The deal is struck, son. You got the power, and you</p><p>delivered me her soul. She should have realized you cannot sell someone</p><p>elses soul. You only succeed in damning your own. Revenge is sweet, and</p><p>never again will she use my true name to bind me to her petty</p><p>pursuits!" The presense in his mind faded completely, leaving Yarvok</p><p>alone with his dead mother.</p><p>Feeling ambivalent and stunned, Yarvok sat there in the dirt beside the</p><p>body for a long while. Finally, the pragmatic part of his brain took</p><p>over and he began the task of burying her. He wasn't terribly afraid of</p><p>retribution from local officials, they only came this far out once a</p><p>year to collect taxes. Nonetheless, he had no desire to stay in this</p><p>place any longer. He scavenged what goods he could from the cottage</p><p>he'd lived most of his life in, shoved a burning stick from the</p><p>fireplace up into the thatch of the roof, and headed out the door.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Yttermayn, post: 4625916, member: 31390"] I have been wanting to play a warlock in one opf your games forever! I have one ready to go. Will post him as soon as I find him... Oh, hear he is. I will get all the stats converted to plain text in a little bit. I have to go make some money right now... Str 13 Dex 14 Con 12 Int 10 Wis 10 Cha 17 Yarvok is pragmatic to the point of ruthlessness. At the age of 16, much to his mothers delight, his warlock powers began to manifest. He had no idea who his father was. His mother was a witch, living out her existence and raising her son in the sheltering embrace of a dark forest. Yarvok had never really had any interest in the dark arts his mother continuously pressed him towards, but ultimately, she won THAT little contest. One day, as he was doing his favorite activity, (target shooting with a crossbow he had been given for his birthday) his mother approached him. He ignored her as was his usual response, until her hand came to rest gently on his hip. "Such a handsome young man..." she started. Yarvok paused, his aiming eye rolling to glance back at her as she pressed herself uncomfortably close. "Have I ever told you of your father? His name is Mae-" Yarvok never heard the rest. Baleful images suddenly clouded his mind and his eyes. In them, he saw his mother, much younger than she was now. She was speaking in a foul sounding language to a dark, man shaped figure. Two pinpoints of white hot light emanated from where the figures eyes should have been. The figure held out a peice of parchment. His mother drew a small blade and sliced her wrist, dribbling it on the parchment and smearing the blots into an arcane mark. The dark figure then rolled up the parchment and consumed it. The scene then changed, and now his mother wakes in the middle of the night, finding a dark and familiar shape standing at the end of her bed. In an instant, the figure is on her, and Yarvok understands what he's seeing to be the night of his conception. Through inborn infernal logic, he comes to understand the nature of the deal struck by his mother: She sold the soul of her yet unmade child to some abysal being. She sold HIS soul. His fury overwhelmed him and he lashed out, not with his body, but with the arcane fire that seethed within him! He heard a deep, resonant, and thouroughly vile laughter in his mind, and when his vision cleared, his mother lay before him - dead. The same voice sounded again "The deal is struck, son. You got the power, and you delivered me her soul. She should have realized you cannot sell someone elses soul. You only succeed in damning your own. Revenge is sweet, and never again will she use my true name to bind me to her petty pursuits!" The presense in his mind faded completely, leaving Yarvok alone with his dead mother. Feeling ambivalent and stunned, Yarvok sat there in the dirt beside the body for a long while. Finally, the pragmatic part of his brain took over and he began the task of burying her. He wasn't terribly afraid of retribution from local officials, they only came this far out once a year to collect taxes. Nonetheless, he had no desire to stay in this place any longer. He scavenged what goods he could from the cottage he'd lived most of his life in, shoved a burning stick from the fireplace up into the thatch of the roof, and headed out the door. [/QUOTE]
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