2 biographies, 1 of my D&D char, one of my m8's
mine is talroth, his is Aenamyx
Talroth
Eighteen years ago my beautiful mother gave birth to a son, named Thellion, this son was me of course, otherwise I wouldn’t start this story with this line. I was treated well by my parents, since they had more than enough money to do so. I was sent to school as soon as I had the proper age and that’s where my life actually starts. I didn’t have to do much to get along with the other pupils, to be honest, I hated and despised them since they were too damn dumb to even talk with. Every time when I talked about the wonderful sounds of other languages such as abyssal they would look at me as if they were scared of my knowledge, every time when I told them about the things that kept me busy they said I was an evil being.
A few years later at the age of six, I was still on that very same school, but I was too intelligent to follow classes, so I quit it and started thinking of a way to avenge myself upon the students that had always been picking on me. As time passed I kept thinking and thinking, how could I avenge myself on the pupils and the teachers that never stopped them.
I went to the library and started to read books about ancient warriors, the only few people who I respected. Then my current life actually started, at my seventh birthday my parents told me I could choose any gift worth about two gold pieces. I told them I had to go to the library and find myself something I really wanted to have. It took me two whole months to find out what I wanted. I had read the entire library when I was seven years old and every day the clerk of the library looked at me with that strange expression on his face, telling me something like: young kid, what are you doing here? I would avenge myself upon him for sure, but how?
Then on the day when I read the last book in the library I knew it, I had to find books about things not this goodie-goodie, all the books that I could find were about the glorious paladins and their noble backups. I had despised them since I started reading about them, but I read all those books just to see the paladins grieve and suffer, that was the part I loved. And then, when I read the last book about the paladin Prator, I knew what my birthday gift had to be. Prator’s last book involved a small part about the “noble” paladin and his henchmen getting killed by an evil wizard.
I asked my parents for a book with blank pages right away. They didn’t know what I was planning to do with it, but they gave it to me anyway, and I was really happy with this gift. Now I needed to find a way to get some purpose for this book, because I had read about wizards and how they would do something that manipulated energy, but I had no clue where to start. Then the best day of my life came, I remember that day, because it was one day before my eighth birthday. A wanderer knocked on our door when I was home all alone and I opened up. He was dressed in a strange cloak hood and had a hat on his head, covering the upper part of his face, making him a strange figure, but somehow I felt really attracted to the energy he radiated.
As I looked closer I saw he had a case on his belt, cylinder shaped. I asked him what the case was for and I still remember what he said to me then; “This case holds my scrolls.” I asked him what kind of scrolls they were and he showed one of them to me, the very first scroll I was enticed to lay my eyes on, it was titled: Magic Missile. I told him that I had always been interested in the arts of the arcane and he laughed, telling me to get a life and not talk such nonsense at my age, but I didn’t care about his laughter, all I could care about was this scroll and how I could get it.
I asked him what he wanted and why he had knocked my door. He just wanted to have some water, because he had to travel for a long while and he was out of water. I filled up a flask for him and gave it to him, but this was only under one condition. He had to tell me how I would be able to master this magic missile. He laughed again and showed me another scroll. Start with this son, this is harder than you might be able to learn in your entire life.
And so I did, he gave me a scroll titled: prestidigitation, with which I would be able to perform some minor tricks. It took me ages to even decipher the strange script on it, but I went to the library to find out more about this strange language on the scroll. The library had no books for this, so I was stuck at this point in my life. Next day I would turn eight, so my parents asked me what kind of gift I wanted this time. I told them I wanted to meet a wizard, and so we did. We traveled to the woods, where the elves lived, according to my father. As soon as we entered the woods, a hail of arrows landed before us and a group of elves stood in front of us, with drawn bows and arrows pointed at us.
“What do you want, stranger?” They asked my father. On which he answered that we only wanted to talk to the great Arheil for a little moment. The bows were put away and we were escorted deeper into the forest. As soon as the elves had spoken their first words I despised them, their voices were so incredibly soft and sweet, it disgusted me. But it was for the good cause and I followed the elves, deeper and deeper into the forest, until we saw a huge tree, in the center of a mushroom patch. I was told to go in and meet the great Arheil, and so I did. There he was, radiating an energy even stronger than the wanderer that had knocked my door a day ago. I told the elf that I wanted to know more about the arts of the arcane and that I needed help on deciphering the scroll.
The guy laughed at me and told me, I was way too young for this, he dismissed me right away. And so we left again, back through the woods, back with the scroll the stranger had left for me.
It turned out I was way to early trying to understand the arts of the arcane, for seven years later, when I turned fifteen and had reached the age of adulthood, the world truly opened for me. I started looking at my mother in a different way as well, she was beautiful, well shaped and even better looking than all the other people in our entire (though small) town. I started having strange feelings for her and started hating my father for being her husband. This is the point where my life became the life it is now, for I then I started wandering late at night, just to lose my temper a bit. Two weeks after my fifteenth birthday, I even remember the time, I was outdoors again, late at night, and I wandered off, out of the village where I lived in, further and further, until I reached the doors of the graveyard where my grandparents lied buried.
I entered the graveyard and felt something unnerving here, but I kind of liked these unnerving energies that floated here. The dead had some attraction to me and I sat down, in complete relaxation, complete rest, being alone, though accompanied by the souls of others. And then all of a sudden I realized I had the scroll with me, the scroll titled prestidigitation, since I always carried it with me, ever since I got it. I gazed upon it once more and it all became clear to me, I had to combine some signs together and this would make me able to crack the code the scroll tried to hide. I ran back home and got my (still empty) book, which I had for about eight years now, deciphered the scroll and wrote it into my empty book, which I immediately decorated with a sign that came up to me, my rune, because I had read that all other magi had a rune on their spellbook, so I wanted one too.
I went back to the graveyard after this, since the dead simply wouldn’t let me go, I had to be in their presence to feel comfortable. I arrived and started thinking of my mother again, her almost unearthly beauty, her soft lips and her beautifully shaped body. What would she look like when she was… dead. I sat there for hours, thinking, pondering and practicing philosophy, reading the only page with text on it in my spellbook. Slowly feeling that I just had to see what my mother looked like when she was dead.
I went back home when the skies were black, perfect for my mood. When I came back, I was as silent as I could be and I slowly walked up the stairs, moving silent as a gentle breeze. I went to my room and put away my spellbook, I had concentrated on the prestidigitation spell for half a day now, so I had to be able to, as they called it in the books I read, cast it now. I went back down to our kitchen and took the sharpest knife I could find. Slowly I went back up the stairs and enter my parents’ bedroom. There I saw my father and mother, both being awake, my mother was naked and she was sitting on my father, moving up and down. They hadn’t noticed me yet, because they were too busy doing what they were doing. I did not know what to do for a while and started moving my hands and uttering the words required to cast prestidigitation as soft as I could, it took me about half a minute to complete the spell, but then it happened, two small bolts of fire flew out from my hands and started swirling around each other, distracting my parents for a while.
I ran over to my father and slit open his throat with the knife I had brought from the kitchen. I threw my mother down on the floor and took of my own clothes, I did not know what I was doing, but I liked it, I felt an enormous power, so great, I felt superior to both my father and mother. The very next moment I slit open the throat of my mother as well, and I raped her dying body. I felt so good doing this, the feeling of power would not let me go. I dressed up again and walked back down the stairs, checking if nobody had heard my mother scream after I had killed my father. Luckily it was late at night, so nobody could have noticed.
Still I did not feel safe and I ran to my own bedroom, took my spellbook and ran out the front door, onwards to the graveyard, where I would feel rest again. The dead seemed to be speaking to me, as if they had voices, telling me to control them. I stood up and looked into a grave, where a the dead body of a woman could be seen, a woman almost as beautiful as my own mother. I felt a need to do something here, and you might guess what this was. I raped her dead body and ran away.
In the meantime I still did not feel safe, even though I had been at the place where I felt best. My name! I realized, my name was known throughout the region, because I had always been one of the most intelligent people in the vicinity. I changed it to a more suitable name, from now on I would call myself Talroth, Talroth the Gravecaster. Why I had called myself gravecaster I did not know, but it sounded suitable to my personality at this very moment.
I wandered off, deeper into the night, deeper into the unknown, until I saw a person just like me, wandering alone in the depth of the night. I walked up to him and introduced myself, I cannot recall why I did that, but I just felt the urge to do so. He looked up and then I saw the cloak hood I had seen years ago, and the hat, covering the upper part of his face, I even felt that very same energy I had felt years ago. “Well well, young man,” he said, we meet again, but now you have got the proper age to discover the secrets of the arcane. He took off his hat and his hood and looked at me with a strange gaze. His eyes were crimson and his face was pale, his hands looked as if they were hundreds of years old and to be honest, this man looked as if he hadn’t eaten in ages.
Allow me to introduce myself young man, he said, I am Ther and I am your mentor from now on. This pleased me to the most, now I would finally find a way to avenge myself upon the pupils that had always laughed at me. Ther took me to a strange place, which he called a temple. But this was a temple I had never seen, it was a temple to Velsharoon, a god related to death and undeath. I was raised by my parents to have faith in Pelor, Velsharoon had more domains that I was associated with ever since I went away from my elderly home.
Ther taught me the basics of what I know now and he told me that he had mastered the secrets of the arcane already. Every now and then we would go out and he would cast a spell on me that allowed me to fly, next he did the same on himself and we flew around a bit, over the village where I had lived.
And then, one day when I had mastered what I wanted to master, he taught me how to use the magic of the spell he had shown me years ago. The magic missile. “This”, he said “will be the most important spell you will ever get to learn, it might seem a little futile spell, but believe me, it’s the most reliable and potent spell there is.” And ofcourse I believed him, everything he had said to me so far had made sense, so why would this be any different?
We flew around a bit again, over my old village until I saw someone quite familiar walking around. I landed in front of him even though Ther had forbidden me to do so. The person I landed in front of looked astonished to see me and said: “Thellion, haven’t seen you in a while, how are you doing now, mister abyssal?” I felt a seething anger rise up and slowly took a hold of the knife which I had with me ever since I had killed my parents. But then some other idea rose up in my mind. I stepped back and looked at him for a while, telling him to shut up and stop trying to be so cool to me. He laughed at me and asked: “What were you planning to do then? Speak abyssal and summon a demon?” Now it was my time to laugh, I uttered a few words, moved my hands and focused my energy. Next a small bolt of energy flew through the sky, landing on this so-called funny man, slaying him outright. I felt good and flew up again. Ther gazed at me and said that I was a man of deeds, and people should fear me for sure.
Then we went back home, to Ther’s home that is, and we did the usual praying to our deity before we went to bed. Next morning Ther woke me up early and told me it was time to choose now. I had told him all about my feelings with the dead and my will to master them when he started mentoring me, so I did not understand. He explained that I had to choose my specialism now, I had to make a choice that would forever influence my arcane arts. And of course there was only one thing left for me to choose, the arcane arts of the dead, necromancy. Ther taught me all he could about it that very same day and as soon as it turned evening he ordered me to go to sleep. He had always known what was good for me, so I obeyed him and went to bed.
Next morning, I heard a scream and ran down the stairs as quickly as I could. Down at the staircase stood Ther, in front of him there was a small party of three people dressed in bright blue and white colours. Two of them held up their symbols and uttered some words, I saw it had some kind of an impact on Ther, who immediately crumbled to dust. He had for sure been destroyed now, but how? I ran down and yelled to the bright coloured persons that they had killed the man that was like a father to me for years. “Could be,” one of them ansered, “but he was an undead creature, the embodiment of evil, so we had to destroy him, now leave this place, before his vile energies take you over.”
I left, ran until I saw city walls, I had taken a lot of money from Ther’s house, for it belonged to nobody now. I arrived at the city of Peton, where I entered the inn. Next morning I would turn eighteen, but it didn’t matter to me, my birthday was not a day of rejoice, no, it would be a day of grieving because of Ther’s death.
I woke up next morning, and all I could think of was Ther and that I had to avenge him. I went down into the dining room, where I encountered a man that was dressed in black, carrying a whip. I liked his looks, for he looked as if he decided what was going to happen. I walked over to him, asked if the seat next to him was taken and introduced myself. “I am Talroth,” I said. “I am Aenamyx” he replied.
Aenamyx
The story you are about to read is the story of my life until now. I grew up in a common family. I was only child and my mother and father were happily married we also had a dog. My mother was a housewife and took loving care of me. My father was a smith who loved to practice the art of animal taming in his spare time.
When I was about 6 years old, my father started to take me on his trips into the wild every once in a while to practice his hobby. We almost always went to the plains, just outside of our village. He said there were more animals for him to practice on and for me to play with. While we were out in the woods he taught me the art of using a whip, which I thought was very difficult.
Everybody knows that people with little or no experience in using a whip might hurt themselves (badly). So did I. Sometimes I became frightened when I only saw my father’s whip. Still I wanted to master the skills to use it because in my opinion there was nothing more fascinating and of greater beauty than a whip being used right. Oh, did I love the sound of the cracking whip the first time I succeeded to use it in a properly instead of hurting myself with it. In a strange way I liked it when I hit myself. I don’t know why but the wounds, the blood… man I loved it.
I was no special boy, except for the fact I was always pulling out limbs and wings of insects and other tiny creatures when I got bored. Beside that I was quite boring as a child. Always fooling around with ropes, trying to tie firm knots and tying up stuff. Because I liked rope that much, I always had a good rope with me.
This however changed on the day I turned 7. My father had made me a very simple whip in his workshop so that I would have a whip of my own when he took me out on one of his trips again.
One more thing my father taught me, for which I am still grateful, is the basics of leatherworking. Almost every day, except for the days my father took me out, I spent my time in my father’s workshop making my own precious whip. That’s really how the early years of my life went. Until one day my life changed dramatically.
This day, which seemed to be one of those trip days, my dad took me out again and we took the dog with us. That dog was my dad’s favorite. He followed him everywhere. Maybe this is because the stupid thing was the first animal my dad had ever tamed. As I was practicing my skills, I accidentally hit the dog. The poor thing was in terrible pain, but for some sort of reason I didn’t feel sorry at all. In fact I felt great about the amount of pain I caused the dog. Still wondered by the hit I went home with my dad like nothing happened. Weeks passed and suddenly I had a strange feeling. I felt like hurting stuff, people and creatures. Feelings of aggression…
I didn’t know what to do with these feelings so I decided to do nothing about it. Until the next day, when my father took me out on one of his trips again which began to bore me since all I’d do was to hit some stuff with my own whip and occasionally a whip I had made myself, which wouldn’t last longer than 3 hits against a tree.
There I sat, bored to death. Watching my father who is trying to train and tame animals isn’t the most fascinating happening in ones life. Then suddenly I saw the dog wandering off a bit, away from my father. I walked up to the dog as he looked at me, drew my whip and hit him as hard and as vicious as I could. I felt deliberated, wonderful. I had never felt better in my whole life! You should have seen the stupid beast…
The dog however didn’t feel as deliberated as me and attacked me. Then something odd happened. While the dog came running at me, I was able to attack the dog first again. When I hit him, the tip of my whip wrapped firmly around one of the dog’s paws. I pulled the whip back and tripped the dog. I was shocked by the looks of it and couldn’t believe what I had done. I looked behind me and saw my father busy taming a horse. I decided to take things different this time. I was sick and tired of that stupid dog, following my dad around all the time, wanting to play. As the dog lied on the ground, I kept hitting the dog with my whip. I think it may have been unconscious because it didn’t move at all. I kept hitting and kept hitting until I saw the fur of the dog turning red… Blood! The way I felt on the moment I saw the blood, I can’t describe but I never felt better. Blood, blood, blood! I wanted more! More pain, more pain! This frenzy of mine however ended when I felt a hand grabbing my neck and heard a voice saying: “What in the name of Pelor do you think you are doing?” It was my father. By the look son his face I could tell he wasn’t pleased by the way I just behaved. He dragged me home and locked me in my room. That night when I just decided to fall asleep, the door of my room opened. There he stood, my father, holding his whip. I didn’t know what to do or what was going to happen until I saw my father raising his right hand. That’s the last thing I remember of that night. All I remember is that I woke up…
I don’t know if it was the same night, the next morning or maybe even days later. All I remember is the terrible pain I felt on my back, my chest and my face.
Some years passed. I didn’t speak to my parents in these days. Actually all I did was sneaking into my dad’s workshop, looking for weapons to take my revenge. Then I saw my solution. A dagger. I took it from the workshop together with a nice piece of leather and one of my dad’s carving knives. I spent days or even weeks on my room crafting until I finally attached the dagger to the end of the whip I had made. I tried it out on some wooden objects in my room and found out it was quite powerful. Now I had to plan my revenge, what would be the best way of getting it? Then I got it. I had to dispose the things my father loved. My mother… As this thought slipped into my mind I got scared of myself, but felt strangely comfortable with the idea.
I grew up, my skills in leatherworking improved. My way of using rope improved, I got bigger and stronger. One day, I decided this would be the day of my revenge. I packed all the stuff I thought I would need in a sack and took it with me. I hid the sack under the table. I waited and waited. It started to turn dark outside. Dinnertime. This was it. Time for revenge. My father sat down at the table. I hid, grabbed my sack and took out the rope. I sneaked up behind my dad and tied his wrists to the arm holds. He tried to shake it off, but I was too quick to tie up his ankles to the chair. He started shouting. My mother came running towards me to pull me away as I tied up my dad completely. I threw her against the wall with all the strength I had and kept pressing her against a wooden support beam as I used my right hand to wrap the rope around her and the support beam and tied her up firmly to the beam. Both my parents tried to calm me by telling me that everything would be alright if I would just calm down. But I didn’t listen to them; all I could think of was my revenge. I searched the house for a piece of cloth, wrapped it up and put it in my father’s mouth so that he would shut up. I turned the chair with my dad on it around a bit towards my mother so that he just had to watch as I drew my whip and started hitting my mother. This is possibly the best feeling I ever had. I kept hitting her, as vicious and as vile as I could until she stopped crying. I walked up to her and listened closely. She was still breathing, so I let her be…
I turned around and faced my faced. You should have seen the looks on his face, I never saw anyone that frightened. “Let the games begin!” I walked up to him and took a hold of the dagger at the end of my whip. I pierced the tip of the dagger through the skin of my dad’s forehead and sliced down towards his cheek. I heard some mumbling and he started to shake his head. This hindered my slicing, so I stabbed the dagger in his wrist and started cutting up his arm. I pulled the cloth out of my father’s mouth just to hear him scream in agony. After a while of cutting and slicing in my father’s flesh I left him alone. Walked to the kitchen, took some flasks and walked outside. I went all the way to the river and filled the flasks with water, after which I went back home. I freshened up my parents a bit, but I kept them tied up.
After a while they both woke up, weakened, sore.
That night when I was asleep I had another strange dream about that beautiful woman, dressed in black leather and holding a whip. I couldn’t see her face but I felt drawn to her. She told me her name was Scahrossar and that I had served her well. I didn’t understand what was happening or what she was talking about but she felt as if she knew me, she felt right. She told me to leave my parents and that I should take off alone. The next morning I started tying some ropes together. Went to my father’s workshop where I tied the ropes to the horizontal beam just below the beam supporting the ceiling.
Back inside I untied my mother and dragged her to the workshop where I stood her up on a chair with her neck through the loop I had made in one of the ropes I tied to the beam earlier. She muffled a bit. I didn’t care; all I could think of was how to hurt my father as much as I could. I went back inside and dragged the chair with my father on it to the workshop and untied him too. He was still unconscious when I put the loop around his neck. I waited and waited and finally my father started to wake up. I stood him up on his chair, tied up the rope firmly. After this I searched the workshop for valuables and useful stuff like carving knives, leather, rope etc. I went inside the house to look for valuables, took some copper with me and some jewels my father had made for my mother which looked valuable. I walked back to the workshop, looked at my parents, kicked the chairs from underneath them and walked away, into the woods.
For days or maybe even weeks I wandered around in the woods. Looking for company or a place to stay, until on the edge of the woods I saw a city.
The sign at the gate said: Peton. I went in and looked for the Inn. After walking around for a while I found it and I entered. I ordered a meal and a beer and sat down at a random table. There was a man in this room, about my age who looked like quite a scary guy. Although his looks and way of acting were intriguing. He spotted me, walked up to me and asked me if the seat next to me was taken. He introduced himself as Talroth. “I am Aenamyx” I said. I still don’t know why, but I felt strangely comfortable with him and I felt as if I had found the company I was looking for…
2 biographies, 1 of my D&D char, one of my m8's
mine is talroth, his is Aenamyx