RPoTM Entries

[[DM] Grinning Death]

Well folks, we didn't get very many entries this month, but we're going to throw them up anyway! Here are your candidates for this month.

Remember, send your voting PM's to DM Philosopher!

[[DM] Grinning Death]

Entry #1

Name: Kavos Tal'Ressin
Race: Teifling
Age: 24
Build: Thin, toned frame. Near 6' tall.
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Mostly Human looking, Kavos stands around six feet tall. He has a messy mop of black hair atop his head, long enough to occasionally cover his amber colored eyes. He is thin, but well muscled, his face shows a youthfulness that is not seen in his eyes. He is often antagonistic in nature, naturally drawn to spreading chaos, though he most often avoids physical confrontations.

At a very young age Kavos' supposed Father, a secretive mage, found the truth of Kavos' heritage. Despite the knowledge that the boy was not his own, the ailing mage kept him close. He became obsessed in his search for answers, his search worsening his ill health. Before his death, when Kavos was nearing 18, his Father had found a small group known as The Coiled Serpent. A small group of Teiflings led by a driven, and knowledgeable, Teifling known as The Keeper of Dark Truths.

Upon his death, Kavos' Father, sent word to the organization and the young man quickly found himself living in their lair, a secluded mountain side cave. He studied amongst them for much of the next five years. It was not until his 18th birthday, seven months after his arrival, that he learned the truth of his heritage, and that of his fellow Serpents. That day, and night, he was plagued by nightmares, so vivid he awoke still feeling pain, and with visible physical changes... The Keeper did his best to answer Kavos' questions, but much could not be answered, immediately.

In the time after this revelation, Kavos was taught all the Serpents had gathered about their kind. A wealth of dark knowledge, he learned to speak the languages of the Hells and the Abyss. His studies also included a special font of lore, to aid him in controlling the powers infused in his soul on the night of his 18th birthday. At the time, it was unclear as to the nature of the nightmares, though in the following weeks, it became clear that they were more then mere dreams. Physical manifestations of a change in appearance, as well as changes in personality. As well as the manifestation of another power, unnoticed in the first days after, began to develop. The Keeper had seen powers like this before, Kavos was a Warlock.

In the following years, Kavos was kept secluded. Though it was uncommon for any of them to travel far from their hideout, it was far rarer that Kavos stepped more then a few strides from it. After that one day, so many years before, Kavos was not the same. He knew what was in him, and there were times he could not control it. That nagging voice in his head, that told him how wonderful it would be to bathe in their blood, to cut out their beating hearts. He fought it, with all his will, but sometimes... Sometimes, he wasn't sure he could stop it. Stop the part of him that wanted everything to burn.


RP Post--------

The rythmic sound of padded footfalls filters down the damp cave, a slow progression as he nears one of the caves rooms. He sees several other such side passages, and small rooms as he wanders down the stone way. The dripping of water playing an eerie, and echoing, tune into his ears as his mind wanders. He turns abruptly, down one passage, throwing aside the animal skin curtain of a door. Behind the skin is a small, pale lit room. A weathered, and beaten desk, with a small chair in one corner, and a makeshift cot in the other. He sits heavily on the straw cot, bellowing a defeated sigh and lifting a small book from beneath his pillow.

"Vie, this life! What can the old fool know of what I need!?" The young man hisses at the picture on the first page, the picture of a distinguished looking mage, late in life but still with a sharp edge about him.

"Oh, father, why leave me with this sect of hermits? Why did you have to die!?" He laments, heaving a dramatic sigh, and closing the book. He leans back hard to the rock wall, staring to the short ceiling for a long while, drifting away to a faraway land....



"Wh-- What? Who's there...?" He stutters, both surprised and annoyed, at the call from behind his curtain. The call soon repeats, the deep booming voice a more calm and monotone."Young Tal'Ressin, you have slept passed your duties.."

"Vie, this life.." The young man retorts bitterly, too quiet for the older man to hear. After another moments pause he responds more loudly, "How can I know the time in this accursed cave!? I dozed off a moment, no more..."

He could hear the deep windy sigh from behind the curtain, before it suddenly blew aside, showing the robed man on the other side. His face was a mask of calm and discipline, pale as snow, with amber eyes. A small tuft of white hair capped his head, and his body seemed far to strong for a man of his supposed age. "You have been in here for no less then six hours." Came the sour response, "You are due to your studies within the half-hour. You will come now." He added quickly, in an annoyed tone.

"Fine, but I hate it when you call me Young Tal'Ressin.. You know my name well enough, you old crow!" He retorted in a bluster of rebelion. To his utmost dismay, the old man hardly blinked at the remark, and with a sigh answered back, "As you wish Young Kavos..."

"Why can't you just call me 'Sin' like everyone else." He huffed, swinging off his cot and brushing past the man, too quick to notice the profound sigh, and horrified expression on the old mans weathered face....
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"Sin!" Came the hissing whisper once, then again with a sharp prod. The young man next to Kavos looks at him urgently, waiting for him to snap out of it, whispering and prodding the sleeping youth. Looking between the man and the front of the room more urgently now, he sits back in his chair, and shakes his head with a grin, looking back at Kavos with a roll of his eyes.

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Smoke swirls, creating whirlpools of noxious fumes, strange noises assaults his ears, his eyes sting as he gags on the swirling mist. Every step feels labored, as if some great weight is slowly crushing him, taking all hope and desire from him as it does. He thinks one step at a time, until in a rush of noise, he is on all fours, the air becomes crisp and freezing, then blistering hot and oppressive. He screams as the pain burns in his mind, his skin beginning to flake, all around him he hears laughter, or it sounded something like laughter. It was like two boulders clashing together, the force behind the laugh vibrating through his whole body.

Suddenly, the breath is ripped from his chest, his eyes feel near to erupting from their sockets, and he is pulled up from the ground, expecting to be smashed against it, or thrown into the maw of a firey beast. Except it doesn't stop. He keeps rising, and the mist swirls away, replaced by blinding flashes of light. The constant pulling makes him nauseous, feeling as if his organs were moving more slowly then his body, being pulled apart as he flew through the nothing. Moving so fast, unable to breathe, he opens his mouth to scream, and vomits. He continues to gasp until finally his lungs find a breath, and he screams, a roar of fear and agony. He feels still, weightless, and notices his eyes are closed, he opens them slowly fearing to see the mist again....

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He sits in a small room, carved out of the stone, four horrified sets of eyes looking back at him. It all seems so alien at first, as if he hadn't seen this place before, or the strange men. "S-Sin?" He hears next to him, turning to regard the source of the voice, it all comes rushing back, a whirl of all his recent memories, a slap against his mind. He vomits, and then he swirls down into blackness....
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Blackness. Everywhere around, all directions. There was nothing but black, and that laughter. He walked, but there was no solid ground, no way to tell if he was even moving. His mind was racing, as fast as his heart, trying to figure out his surroundings, the source of that mocking laughter. Stopping his pointless march, he turns in a sharp circle looking around, taking in a deep breath and yelling into the oppressive darkness.

"Who are you!? What do you want from me!?" He shouts, his voice cracking, hands shaking as he does. "What could you offer me, worthless boy?" Came the cackling retort. The voice seemed to come from everywhere, and nowhere at once. It was like the voice was in his own head, but he could feel the vibrations from the booming call.

"Let me go!" He shouts again, his voice weak, with little resolve. The only response was more grating laughter, louder then before. A mocking orchestra of booming laughter from all directions, as if a crowd was surrounding him, growing louder and louder. The noise forcing him to cover his ears, pain coursing through his head. "STOP!!!!" He shouts, his voice angry and fearful, filled with all of his might.

The sound almost immediately stops, and he notices that he is laying down. His eyes clamped shut, he can feel the cold stone on his back, he can smell the damp air and the thick aroma of torch smoke. The hazy image sharpens, and soaked in sweat with a throbbing headache, he looks up at the stone ceiling above his cot....
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[[DM] Grinning Death]

Its time to wake up..

The voice laughed. Was it in his head? Or was his nightmare not over? A familiar stillness answered his thoughts, assuring him that it was not real. Or was it? The pain was real, enough to blur his vision at first.. But now.. everything seemed so different to him. Like seeing through the eyes of someone else. Everything was sharper and brighter. Sitting up, he looks around the small room, still breathing heavily, sweating beads down his face. What was it that nagged at him, something deep within, something that wasn't there before. The thoughts were jumbled, a confusing swirl of images, images of himself. As the images swirled faster, bombarding him with thoughts of murder and torture, sharp pains drove into his skull, feeling as if they were splitting it asunder. He lurches forward, putting his head into his hands, and stops abruptly...

The shock of it all sent the swirl of thoughts, and emotions, far away. His hands shaking as he feels over his hairline, two hard lumps protruding through his thick hair. He pulls his hands back, holding them, bloodied, before his eyes. He could only blink as the mental barrage began anew, this time, however, it was different. All the things he hadn't understood, all the signs and memories. It made sense. "You always said I was special... But this!? What is happening to me?" He cries, looking at the book, the book that contained his fathers image. "Its not supposed to be like this!" He cries again, more defiantly.

Gathering himself, he launches up from the cot, storming about the room. The dark cloud of thoughts enveloping him, sending primal urges bubbling up into his mind. He should go torture that old fool Keeper, flay his skin until he tells every secret. Yes, that would be fun. He stops mid-stride, finding himself standing in the entryway to his small room. What was he thinking? No, he couldn't do that, what was coming over him? "He will tell me.. I just need to ask.. Yes, thats it." He says with little conviction, looking to squash the doubts and fear growing in him now. "Yes." He says again, more firmly....

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"He is conflicted. It is strong in him, Keeper.." The short professor sighs. "Even if he fights it... From what he says, there is no victory." He turns his back to the keeper, feigning interest in a small object on the dark bookshelf. "If his powers grow, and he loses control of them..." He says, letting the dire implications speak for themselves.

"He is not the first, Maeliar. We are here to teach them, and save them from themselves." The Keeper says flatly, offering the professor a dismissive wave of a hand. "We all deal with our heritage, the blessings and curses given us." He continues, before offering a sympathetic sigh. "Some pay more dearly. He is a very smart boy." The Keeper stands to his feet, and similarly paces, looking over the many things he had collected in his years. The books he had written. "He doesn't need to forsake it, just control it!" He turns, looking back to his guest

"We all do. That is nothing new.. I am saying he cant. He is lazy, and defiant. He doesn't have the discipline, nor will he ever." Maeliar shoots back, though seeing the keepers grim expression he retracts some. "I know! I know... His father was a friend.. Fine." The small professor turns his back again, sighing. "We will do everything we can for the boy, but he may not ever be ready to leave here.. Think of the problems he could cause us if he was let loose in a Human city.." With a loud clunk, he sets the object he was looking at down, turning back to face the Keeper again. "Or maybe that is it. We teach him what we can... And send him on a road far away." He grins.

"I don't know.. He was frightened when he came to me, though I saw the shifts in his eyes.. He is fractured..And I did not tell him everything."The Keeper looks back at the man grimly at first, though his look soon turns thoughtful. "But, perhaps that is best... I found myself on the road, and in his present state... He is dangerous to the others..." His hand rises to his chin, his eyes staring forward as the plan formulates in his mind. "Yes. Tell the boy he embarks for the north, in two-tendays. That I will tell him why.."
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"We cannot teach you everything from books, Young Kavos.." The Keeper paces before the desk in his private study, looking at the seated boy. "You will increase your studies for a ten-day. Then the next ten-day you will prepare for the road." The Keeper stops, looking directly into his eyes, taking measure of the cool and calm expression staring back at him. "You will then return after a ten-day out." He continues after the short pause.

"I-I don't understand.. The others don't.." Kavos shakes his head, a jumble of conflicting thoughts boiling up. "Where am I to go?" He raises a hand to his head, rubbing away the ache, and bringing back his concentration.

"You will follow strict instructions, leading to a remote area along the River Surbin to the North." The Keeper pauses, turning his back to the boy and shaking his head. "You are right." He says, suddenly turning to face him again. "The others do not go, but you.. You must. The battle in your mind is a dangerous one." He continues grimly. "One best fought in solitude. Ready yourself, for whoever comes back from this will be in control.." As he finishes, the Keeper walks behind the desk and sits in the well appointed chair. "Go back to your quarters.. You will need rest for these next days."

Kavos simply stares at the man for a moment, as if he didnt comprehend. He quickly regains himself, and seems to force his body into motion, steering it out of the study without a word....

[[DM] Grinning Death]

Entry #2

Esrin – Yuan-Ti bio - A snake in uniform.

History
Following the defeat of Sseth'Kellith and his corrupted army of lizard folk a small number of yuan-ti purebloods surrendered to the Sundarian authorities. They claimed their defection was spurred on by the actions of the pureblood known simply as 'The Voice'.

Their surrender was initially met with hostility and confusion if not outright force. The Yuan-Ti were, and still are, seen as enemies, yet it was one of these enemies that had given the state forces the key they needed to destroy the Creator, Sseth'Kellith. Mindful of this somewhat contradictory state of affairs some of the surrenders were accepted.

Following the period of confusion and political wrangling that normally follows open warfare the prisoners of war were split up, some handed over to the Thayan enclave as reparations, some disappearing into the bowels of the Hands two towers, with the remainder held in Legion cells.

Esrin was one of the lucky few who found themselves in Legion hands, spared the researches of the Hands and Thayans.

Prior to his surrender to the Legion Essrins role within Yuan-Ti society was as an infiltrator and counter-espionage agent, trained in tact, diplomacy and dialogue rather than the more sordid businesses of sword-play or magic. This diplomatic training served him well in the Legion cells, slowly turning open hostility into mere disgust. With time he managed to convince his keepers that he may be of some use to the Legion, given the ongoing problems with Mossdale and the Black Hand.

Initially Esrin was placed on a small team that monitored non-confidential reports, rumours and information coming in from various sources around the valley, the team would watch for patterns and intelligence that could indicate threats or problems or leads that may have been missed.

Several small scale successes in predicting the movements of enemy troops convinced his handlers that he might be of some use, this has eventually resulted in him being allowed to operate in the valley proper and away from his handlers (but still well monitored).

On paper he's now a recent immigrant from Calisham, working for the 4th Legion, helping to root out internal threats to the valley. His reports are also duplicated and passed on to his handlers in the 13th.

Esrin's release is a double play by the Legion, in addition to the activities he's been tasked with, he's also the bait in something of a honey trap: The hope being that if his true racial identity is discovered then he'll be approached by groups who'll seek to use him for their aims, allowing the Legion to spring on them. There is also some hope that he will seek to make contact with previously unknown Yuan-Ti groups in the valley, allowing the Legion to exterminate them.

In order to ensure he doesn't truly present a threat to the people of the valley he's is under the effects of a Geas which is worded to ensure he's working in the interests of the Legion (The geas also precludes taking or writing about being under a geas). A secondary control device (a tattoo of a type copied from Thayan enchanters) allows him to be easily located and scried upon by the hands, as a last ditch measure this tattoo can be used to remotely induce a fatal seizure.

He has also undergone some behavioural 'rehabilitation' conditioning as pioneered by Steward Anderson during the Reptile War.

The whole affair is considered something of an experiment by the 13th, should Esrin be killed in the course of it then it will merely be a failed one, the hope being he'll uncover something worthwhile before being killed.

Personality:
Esrin tends to come across as warm and genuine in most social situations, albeit with a rather ruthless business streak.

When working with paper figures Esrins personalty does tend to shift toward the cold and impersonal. There's little doubt that the cold personality is his true one, his normal façade of friendliness being a result of his conditioning and the natural charisma of his species.

He considers politics and espionage to be something of a predatory game, he plays the part of the swift and silent snake with those he's working against playing the part of mice.

Appearance:
As with most of the Yuan-Ti purebloods Esrin appears completely human at first glance, it would be a poor infiltrator who was openly inhuman. The slightly less average features, his thin face, slightly ellipsoid pupils, thin lips and baldness are easily explained away as being part of his Calimshite heritage.

His baldness is almost always concealed beneath some form of headgear, his preference is for broad-rimmed feathered affairs.

The majority of his species sibilant excesses have also been dealt with thanks to vocal coaching.