Journal Entries of Varsick "Vee" Gyz

[greypawn]

ooc notice, just because you know this information does not mean your character knows this information. please do not target my character as an enemy unless he becomes one in game, in character. thanks, enjoy.

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This land is hard to get use to. Its so different from home. Even mentioning my faith places me in danger. I now understand why I have been sent here to study. Stealth and secrecy is not optional. The land is full of hate filled do gooders bashing their shields into anything that smells funny. Their hypocrisy makes me smile. They would make fine allies if they weren't so blinded by their "morals." Perhaps they'll make fine tools.

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I've found friendship in lies. Most seem fine with them but dwarfs here seem to trust no one. One even dared to call me a Banite in front of his whole kin. Such public truth is dangerous and I denied it playing it off as an insult. Perhaps I'll make one of them my first practice mark. After the kill, I'll cut the bastards beard off and his kin can view the him as the beardless coward I called him. It shall be any easy mark. I'll wait by a pub and when he leaves, I'll track the foul dwarven stench all the way back to his bed.

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Its been a few moons and I have yet found true allies. Perhaps I'll write back home and request contact information to the local order. Although, sending me this way as clueless I am might be a test of my skill and loyalty. The elven folk are an interesting lot. Some of their magics remind me of the Black Cloaks back at Darkhold. Others are just as foolish as any other local. One priestess seems quite interesting to me as she openly follows Umberlee. Perhaps I'll find friendship with their order if not just for temporary convenience.

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I've found a place to wet my whiskers. The whiskey is served warm and the fights may or may not be rigged. Either way, the gambling joint in the entertainment district will serve well as a place to conduct my business. The clientele from this venue shouldn't be so bad seeing that nobles tend to walk around this district and the university is near. Never hurts to earn a few coins while in training.

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[greypawn]

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Blackness covers the forest as an elf updates an old druid in the grove. I did not hear much. But they have enemies, yuan-ti, and both sides are on the move. The hate within both excites me and I lay faith in that such a conflict shall only empower the Black Lord. As fear and hate run through their spirit, may my dagger do his will.

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The yuan-ti had attacked Mirakus. I did not get to witness their pathetic attempt but stood hidden as the local, so called, do-gooders sat around and cried about it. My focus was on my work and I needed a hand from those silly looking monks again. And I have learned that these towns are patrolled by paladins. What scum. At least with the Thayan bastards rule there is reason.

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I've started to control my twitching a bit better. My daily ration of poison goes down more smoothly and my mind wanders less. I will seek out my blood letter soon and then up my poison intake once again. Must focus on my goals and help bring true order to this land. Those who play as tools today, shall die tomorrow.

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[greypawn]

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A seer demands obedience and so I give it. In return, she gives prophecy and insight of times to come. Both magnificent and terrorfying are her words as she forges an alliance amongst four strangers. Failure shall only be a word known to our enemies as we shall enlighten them with darkness and hate.

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The blood freezes in snow as our path becomes clearer. These new associates show much promise as allies. Their talents shall be helpful in times to come and I can't help but feel, what I can only describe as, grateful. This union must stay together as we shall be the tools of darkness and bring forth greatness to this colony of Waterdeep.

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After much travel, I have made contact with my religious order in the region. Their numbers are few but those who command hold great power. They ask not for my name nor do I ask them, but demand my obendience. For all I know they may already know who I am. I shall write Darkhold, as I am sure the church here will do the same, and see if they wish me to aid Sundren.

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[greypawn]

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They call it a murder and I call it work. The blood spills upon the streets of the trade tier and my pocket becomes heavier. Stealth, silence, and obedience protects me from rumors and those who seek their foolish justice. My employer desires this, yes. And this blade, his or mine? Unfinished.

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A spell slinger? Wizard? I know not who to trust with such research on this new found blade of mine. A Thayan's twisted words? No. I find counsel in a hin craftsman, Dymtri. Arcana he knows and his non stop greed for knowledge and trustworthy heart shall indeed aid me. The Lord of Darkness calls all his slaves, knowing and unknowing.

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Scorched by the the sun's kisses, the hin's success in binding flame into blade was most impressive. I am pleased as I touch the short swords hilt and feel instantly empowered. Its as if I'm able to draw from the very flame of the sun itself. Inward, outward; the fierce burning is pleasantly maddening. Sun Razor, you are mine.

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[greypawn]

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I've been away. "Where?" asks my brothers but I do not tell. In a bottle, I say. Assumptions of trips back to the keep are placed in their head. But no. I have taken to the shadows as my sisters profile has grown. Dangerous times. Dangerous times, indeed. But as I make my return to Sundren I find the Church to be even more active. Lively, as a freshly gutted heart beating out its last tune. But who's heart is it? Either way, its time to act.

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I look around and see new faces with old stories. Most treat me as a new face themselves. Their ignorance can be useful here. None of my past deeds haunt me, yet. Those I have killed have been forgotten as those I intend to kill shall be. One thing I really have missed about Sundren is its port. The currents seem to pull corpses into the dephs. And if bodies dare to emerge from the bitch queens grasp, they do so torn and beaten by the large rocks that bless the shore line.

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Todays slaughter was good. I travelled with a small band of ruthless sell swords into rebel terroritory. We cut down and looted a rather large sum of these rebels and made ourselves a small fortune. Its interesting on how some of these so called do-gooders can justify murder. Call somebody a rebel, dehumanize them, and then label them as evil. Suddenly your actions are just. If only all of us could have such a fucked up moral compass. Think I'm going to buy myself some new boots. Maybe a new mustache comb.

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[greypawn]

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Frustration shivers through the tips of my fingers and into hilt of my blade. I tire of getting fucked with. Allies have shown their faces but do not announce themselves. The clerics whisper of traitors among us, their words bounce off the wall and echo in my dreams. Who should I trust? Do my orders come from the faithful or some heathen who wishes to instill mistrust between us and our allies? I shall only trust the Dark One.

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The blood of a paladin seems to shine in the snow. The snow melting around their corpses giving them such a romantic icy grave. Portals, gates, death surrounds us as another enemy spawns into battle. Tired from battle, I still raise my blade. Death to the infidel! I have my faith, the true faith. All those who don't submit shall die. All shall serve in life or death, says my brother. I wish for both.

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My flask is dry, my body broken. The words of wizards fill the lords halls. I wish the clerics would speak, silence them. Our alliances seem to tighten everywhere while our enemies become greater. Hate fills me and I care for nothing at this time but to empower my lord, the Dark One.

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[greypawn]

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The snow slowly fell on my half frozen face as I stared at the blood streaming down my hand and filling in a foot print my murder left. The druids. I am fool but this time my mistake shall take my life. Or those were my last thoughts as my corpse was placed into a frozen tomb. It seems the Black Lord still has use for me.

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My near death experience has made everything clear. I am chosen. I have been baptized with the thrill of fear. A thrill I am to spread. I am a prophet of fear, Bane's servant and all shall embrace him or be destroyed.

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Today, I've decided to lay off the booze a bit and focus completely on the removal of all paladins in Sundren. It has become my personal mission to up root and destroy these warts of society. Their heathen ways are offensive and their illogical rules of morality are far too intrusive. They shall bleed.

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[greypawn]

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One, two, three bodies fall to my blades. More dead infidels, the world is a safer place. The ignorance in this land still shocks me sometimes and the best reaction I can come up with is a short blade through the throat of some dwarven Triad piece of crap then spitting in his ugly dead face? Well, thats pretty damn good I suppose. I'm a solider in this religious war against the heathens, not a diplomat. And they shall know fear.

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Its been awhile. And my low profile is no more. I must say, I found the heathen jail to be rather odd. It had a bed, rations, and nothing to torture prisoners with. Their weakness made me want to laugh and vomit at the same time. When I was brought back to the Citadel, Ruby made sure that I received a proper punishment for my short comings. The scars on my neck shall stand as a reminder to myself.

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The black spit of death. Its cold saliva dripping down my face. Myrkul's grip slips, Kelemvor fumbles, and Bane embraces everything. He is everything for he is the tyrant. My failures shall be rewarded by lashing that I, myself, shall give. My back shall bleed till I faint. And when I rise, I shall be cruel. I shall bring strife. I shall deliver hate. And thrive in fear. Bane is law.

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