Vashner
| Vashner Al'thor | |
|---|---|
| Status | Active |
| Race | Human |
| Gender | Male |
| Guild | Necromancer |
| Instance | Prime |
| Relatives | Zehira, Ellywen, Andue Kantia-Melson (brother), Echosong Kantia (sister-in-law), Meribia Zinjine (adoptive sister) |
Introduction
Summer, 403 years after the Victory of Lanival the Redeemer
It had been ten long years. Ten long years since he left the Empaths. Even longer since he left the confines of his adopted family home in Riverhaven. His brother, long in his adventures, had joined the Paladins. “Father would be proud of him,” he scoffed to himself. Father was always a fool, he thought to himself. He chained himself with duty and wrapped himself in patriotism – “Hard work and Glory to the Baron,” he would often say.
He wrenched the limb of his prey out from its socket with a sickening crack.
… and where did that glory get him? Ten feet under like all the rest. The only inevitability or guarantee in the realms is death. Only the few manage to gain exception. Adventurers, chained to the Immortals whims. What of the merchant and those not strong enough to gather their required sacrifice? Where was Kertigen when our father passed? Was his experience, his loyalty to his home, not enough for Him?
He plunged his serrated dagger deeper into the flesh between the joints of the creature’s hip.
“And what of our mother,” he growled to himself sawing flesh from bone, “Was she not worthy when she was cut down by goblins?”
So many lost to The Starry Road.
Vashner sat up from his kneeling position over the desiccated corpse of the goblin. His arms to his side and sweat beading down his face he gazed up at blue skies. The tall grass of the grasslands towering over the kill site. The summer heat and sound of cicadas are overwhelming. He gazed down at his work – this creature.
“Goblins, you deserve less than this,” he said, “In life you were ugly, irrational, purposeless.” He gazed down at his work and pondered to himself.
“Were you a family man?” He asked the corpse casually as he plucked out its eyeball. Admiring the sample he quickly stowed it away.
“Did you provide for them?”
This goblin, whether it be a king or a pauper, a hunter or a craftsman, a Baron or a Prince, it mattered not to him. All are equal in death, and like any other creature in death it would hold the key. The Answer. No one person, merchant, or adventurer, would ever be dead and forgotten again – Immortals be damned. The work must continue, and traveling this road of discovery alone will be much longer. It would be decades before the road he traveled became more crowded…
Background
Vashner was born on the 376th year After Lanival's Victory (AV) in the city of Riverhaven. He was a late addition to his family, and the youngest of two boys. His father Mel would often craft tools, weapons, and armor for the local guardsmen, and his mother Clarissa was a gatherer of herbs who would deliver supplies to the local Empath Guild. His brother Andue, well into his 30s, took to the blacksmith's craft as well and would also delivery supplies and train with the local guard. Vashner was taught the ways of forging, but more often than not enjoyed helping his mother. He learned the meaning of loss the day goblins raided Riverhaven. He and his mother were gathering herbs outside the North Gate that day. Clarissa, trained in the ways of fighting, stood her ground, and told Vashner to run for help. She was quickly overwhelmed, and a star streaked across the night sky as his mother departed for The Starry Road. Vashner ran to tell his father what was happening. His father grabbed his equipment and ran to the gate, and his brother Andue went to get help from the guards. The goblin raid was repelled that night, but not before a second star streaked across the sky. Vashner and his brother were orphaned. One of the town guards knew of an elven family that had a habit for taking in lost souls and orphans. The elven family had arrived in town during the Great Migration years ago. Vashner and his brother were adopted into this family - and it was there he was raised by his oldest half-sister, Meribia. She was an empath, and would often regale him with tales of her adventures triaging during the Gorbesh War and even an encounter with the Heralds. He became interested in the nature of the link and often wondered if it could be used for more. He joined the Empath Guild, in the city of The Crossing, on 392 AV while it was under the guidance of Annael. During his studies, he experimented with the nature of the link in attempt to find a way to prevent death altogether. Maybe weaponize the very nature of empathy. At the time, such notions were not popular. He very quickly found himself expelled from the Empath Guild. Defeated, he wandered north to the Monastery outside of the city. It was there he merely sought to give up on his ambition. What he did not realize was that he had already embarked on a new chapter on his journey.
Journal Excerpts
Glythandu, Day 29 of Ka’len the Sea Drake, in the 437th year since the Victory of Lanival the Redeemer
My sister-in-law, as insufferable as she can be, has been encouraging me lately. She thinks I am lonely, and perhaps she is correct. Ironically enough, I pursued her for a time. Well, let me correct myself by acknowledging that I wanted what my brother had. He had managed to build something for himself and have companionship over the last few decades. All the while I continued to toil, alone, surrounded only by my experiments. Experimentation that has gone slowly. Perhaps connection is the key. Foolishly, my brother has tossed that all away. Echosong claims it is visions that haunt him still – that the only place the visions were calmed was facing The Dark Hand and serving the Emerald Knights.
Nevertheless, she first approached me years ago and I indulged the attention. I will never did understand how it was that she discovered me. Was I too obvious? Regardless, Echosong has endorsed my pursuits. A wife worried for her ever-increasingly-aged human husband. For a time, I thought to myself that she was an able distraction. After all, with the Hounds of Rutilor as active as they are, she, being a highly active experimenter in sorcery magic, would be more than enough to throw them off my tail. Oddly enough, it has been nice to have someone to talk to. Though she could never fully comprehend the burden of true pioneers. There have always been a few of us that have enjoyed the public eye - Arkanon comes to mind. They often meet unfortunate ends. There have also been murmurings about Basalt Isle lately, and I can't help but feel called to some sort of action.
Should I merely continue sitting on the sidelines, or embrace something greater? If I had true companionship and a partner on this road I could achieve great things - perhaps even finding the answer I have sought for years. If I had a partner, could I surpass my brother? Could I bring true justice to the forgotten? My brother abandoned his path and resigned his fate to live a life in servitude to his madness and the Immortals alike.
That being said, Echosong seems extremely interested in meddling with current events. I will watch and wait – perhaps following her in her quest to meddle will lead me to something greater than I could have hoped.
9th Month of Akroeg the Ram, 453 years After Lanival’s Victory
I will be vague for the purposes of this record – for I know not who may find it and I do not wish to give away the specific details of my new associates. For now, let me just relate to you the tale within which I have found my most recent good fortune. For the first time in a long, long while… I have found the comradery. It was by mere chance – my dear, dear sister’s meddling. We met people – individuals who, like me, were tired and desired real change. We met them tonight at a dimly lit and remote tavern.
It was there… I saw her. A woman of such grace and ferocity she moves like moonlight over broken glass – sharp enough to cut her name into the night sky. What could I do but present her with an offering? She seemed amenable to it. I dare not hope, but I suspect she and I will be seeing more of each other in the future…
...a later entry that very same month
At long last, I have found the companionship I have sought. I never imagined what having a true partner would be like. She chose me or was it perhaps fate? A flash of genius in the very fabric of time which caused our orbits to align. It matters not. Dearest Zehira, though our philosophies do not align, I will walk at you side down to whatever end. This is the path I have chosen. Our souls are bonded now and intertwined in delightful blasphemy.
It has been 102 days and 454 years since the Victory of Lanival the Redeemer.
It is the 3rd month of Lirisa the Archer in the year of the Crystal Snow Hair.
Sitting in a dim candlelit room, Vashner pulls out his journal. So much has happened over these past months. "I do not even know where to begin," he thought to himself. After all, his life had been caught up in a maelstrom of events since meeting Zehira and also finding his new associates. He was married. He finally had a chance to travel throughout Qi - a place he simply had not gotten around to visiting. He has been assassinated twice - once by an acquaintance. Oh... and the Heralds are gone now, and the battle which transpired between the Immortals and the Heralds left him under their intense scrutiny for two months now by his reckoning. That's what you can write about...
A Treatise in Chains
I have walked Kemoria for some 77 years now, and a good portion of that was spent pursuing my own ends. The death of my family left me reeling for answers. Why is it that the Immortals get to pick and choose who continues on living? Well, the answer is clear, people bind themselves to them - offering sacrifice or knowledge even. My parents' sacrifice was not deemed "fit" enough for them to be allowed to continue. I have made my peace with their departure by now. The circumstances of that departure I will never be at peace with. It occurs to me also that the hierarchical structure between mortal and Immortal is even emulated in life throughout the land. The Nobility have more while their supposed lessers are provided with relative squalor lest they themselves buy into a system which offers little in return - simply the right to persist. And yet, people give themselves over freely to both the provinces and Immortals alike. By the Void, they relish it. I hear their sycophancy echoing throughout my mind daily - "Bless this day which the Immortals have gifted us!" or some similar rot. How gleefully do these people offer themselves? Imagine the advances our people could have made had they not so freely offered their knowledge up to these parasites. Imagine how civilization would thrive if we were all truly equal in life and in death.
Then I come to yet another hypocrisy - the likes of which left me frustrated. As a Philosopher, I am also complicit. I bought into a system out of fear of retribution. I would hide in the shadows from the Hounds, persecution, or even the tyranny of the Immortals. I would take on the guise of a Ranger, a Thief, a Trader and pass myself off as a simple nobody in a room to glean knowledge from lectures in secret. Perhaps my greatest crime is my own hesitation to use my knowledge to avoid judgment from Chadatru or whatever other parasitical worm becomes offended at my "audacity."
Who am I to be offended at the willingness of others pledging to the Immortals when I (in a round-about way) attempt to obey the limitations they have provided to simply "pass?" No. If I am to be a breaker of chains, I must first break my own. It is absurd to believe otherwise. Some may claim my realizations are my wife's influence, and perhaps there is some small measure of accuracy to that statement. However, it is only her influence that opened my eyes to my own hypocrisy. Looking back at the history of my rise to power I realize that I have always held these beliefs. These notions are my own. In truth, I came to these realizations only now after the Immortals have dispatched the Heralds and I find myself under their scrutiny. My initial reaction was to hide in the darkest shadow and continue on as I did - posing as a Ranger or a Thief. My work would be put on hold until the Immortals finally looked the other way. I find myself now staring over the edge of the Knife into the inky void below. Like my associates, I am of the mind that true freedom will require revolution.