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« on: November 12, 2008, 03:03:34 am »
[INDENT][SIZE=32]The Journal of a Charlatan [/SIZE]
Journal Entry Number One
Translated Into Common
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[SIZE=13][INDENT]Only the cunning survive within the treacherous walls of Eilndar – wherein treachery takes form within the minds of each individual, conniving and scheming at every step to achieve more power. In terms of deception and manipulation, House Helvivirr claims higher ground for controlling half the territory through well performed and well executed subterfuge. Although, when the need is dire, relentless savagery is always a determining factor in order to obtain victory within the confines of the Dark Elf society.
My name is Ni’haer Helvivirr, son of Phaeryl Helvivirr and Vasriia Helvivirr; I am born of nobility in a world wherein even family members are vying for more power and control. Born into a house that used trickery and deceit more often than direct hostility to meet its goals, and trained in the basic necessities to survive; as some would say, “A weak Dark Elf is better off dead.” My father had high expectations of me for his future plans; frankly, I beg to differ, I refuse to be his puppet, and I have other plans for myself. He taught me that the pursuit of dominion can only be achieved at the expense of others and not yourself; the lower races as well as your kin are tools for which you can consolidate and expand your control over others. Growing up in a harsh society, I eventually came to develop and use the lessons I have been taught to suit my own goals and reap the benefits. Perhaps in another world, my father would be proud, but I could care no less for his favor or this infernal hovel we call a city. I care not for the politics, or control over the Talthara; but rather I desire to benefit from the conflict created by these simpletons.
My matron and patron often treated each other with spite, although they would not show hostility directly at each other, they would scheme the demise of one another underneath the table. Nonetheless, I revered them for their precise and well executed plans to vie for more power. Such ingenious and creative concepts often led to more chaos within the houses; one such incident involved an assassination attempt on my father, to his surprise, the assassin adorned the insignia of our rival, House Phyristra, this resulted into a futile skirmish. Eventually I found out that it was my mother who hired the assassin. Apparently it was not in her original plan to start conflict between the two houses, but rather it gave her a distraction and allowed her to sever a few potential threats. I find it funny that such naiveté could bring forth such chaos.
I never really had a beneficial relationship with my siblings, and they often reviled my existence. They were stuck within a web of death and treachery, and as I grew up I watched the demise of sibling after sibling. The only sibling I grew fond of was my older brother Liilirion, and he was a wizard, studying at the Eilndar Magthere. He often showed me the spells that he learned and hoped that I would be able to go into the academy as well. Amidst all that, he often delighted in setting things on fire, hurling fireballs at the goblin slaves amused him very much. While showing me magic, he would taunt me and encourage me to grow in power. Unlike the others, he never tried to harm me, but rather he wanted me to grow in power.
Roughly an infant to the eyes of elders, I was 96 when I discovered I had the potential for sorcery, at first I was fearful of my fate, but in due time I embraced my gift. I was tasked to oversee the slave quarry and see firsthand how they function. I was examining the slaves work when a Goblin slave suddenly came rushing towards me. The Goblin jumped on top off me attempting to claw me to death, I managed to push back the cretin, and eventually another Goblin decided to come and help. Tattered and cut, I ran towards the mineshaft knowing that the darkness will give me an advantage. To my dismay, the Goblin followed me inside, the Goblins cornered me and I tripped on a rock. I was trying to subdue one Goblin in an attempt to disarm the cretin of the rock and stand up; I was caught off guard when the other Goblin hit my leg with a rock. I was agitated and infuriated that in a sudden stroke of fate, a blast of cold ice, concentrated into a straight ray shot out from my hands towards the Goblin; thrown into the other side of the wall from the force, the Goblin was no longer alive. The other Goblin fled in fear, out of anger and through sheer force of will, I unleashed upon the Goblin the same blast of cold ice, thus ending its life. Bruised with a few cuts, I emerged from the cave as something with powerful potential, a sorcerer with the ability to manipulate the arcane through pure talent and will for lack of a better term. Word spread about my innate ability within the house, and things started to change; more people respected me as an individual and Liilirion grew spiteful and envious of me.
“One must have a purpose or be killed,” that is one of the many basic lessons my father taught me; fear is the weapon used to enforce such an ideal. My father often loathed the site of me honing my magic; he claims that my allegiances lie not in the Prince of Hate or my people but rather to my insatiable thirst for more magic. As punishment for this and in hopes of conversion, he would lash me before the daily temple rituals start, and as he was at the very momentum of his rage, he would stop and say “Pathetic, you will eventually serve your purpose for this house, you will become my weapon, and once you have fulfilled your duty, I shall have no more use for you. Soon, you will die, either by my hands or in The Test, and I shall be there watching.” Such a narrow-minded little man to say the least, eventually someone will kill him, and I will watch closely as the vicious cycle tears him apart.
I was considered to be an outcast of society regardless of how some respected me for my sorcery, although nobility, I was given no such treatment by my parents. I was a very distant child, indifferent if one would were to personify me; regardless of this, I was no different from my kin when it comes to ruthlessness and deception. I grew to be very perceptive of the surrounding world; perceptive to the extent of being inquisitive of things. This often led to me getting beaten by skeptical and secretive members of the clergy. In order to retreat from all the turmoil, I sought the company of Archmage Vesz and other practitioners of magic; I never trusted them regardless of how they treated me, they’re all alike and they all sought to destroy each other. The Archmage in particular interested me; he can be a formidable ally or perhaps a pool of knowledge ready to be siphoned. During my time with them, I grew to learn more about the arcane arts to be able to manipulate and unleash the magical energies in a more sophisticated manner as opposed to being unstable and inconsistent; at that point in time I considered myself a learned sorcerer. Although mediocre, one proves to be capable when one is able to get the job done with what little one has.
I was taught a wide array of things, all of which is required of a male Dark Elf – the doctrines of Baraeon Ca’Duz, the laws imposed upon the houses, the ideals of a Dark Elf, and the various languages that are essential to one. I grew tired of the priests constantly haranguing me about Baraeon Ca’Duz and his glory; frankly, it didn’t interest me at all. I excelled in the conceptual lessons that required trickery and cunning, which gave me an advantage during most times. Along with those lessons, I also enjoyed learning how to speak Dark Elven and Elven in a more educated and sophisticated manner. With those two languages, I reveled in learning the common language as well as the intricate postures of the Silent language so that I may use them during raids on the surface. Through these lessons, my instructors had high hopes for me as well as my fellow students to be sleeper agents on the surface, true enough that I would use such tools to spin webs of intrigue and deception. As much as I enjoyed their lessons, I couldn’t care that much about their desires.
Years passed and I adopted a hedonistic nature; unsatisfied with the world around me, I languished myself with every possible experience there is. A hole has grown within me so deep that it cannot be filled, not even the simple pleasures found in this pit. Eventually, I realized that I was sowing my own destruction, and that I forgot my heart’s true desire – magic. After this realization, I proceeded to tune my self-awareness in order to manipulate more magical energies into more complex and destructive forms – confidence and self-awareness makes a sorcerer.
I grew weary of the derelict city I called home, it’s always the same thing over and over again – someone would gain more control than the other houses, and the cycle repeats itself until someone gains more power. Even the magical society is like so, mages killing other mages in order to obtain bragging rights and spread fear. Although I condone this method of self benefit, all the senseless and repeated savagery prevented me from furthering my arcane development.
One day, I was woken up by the First Patriarch’s liaison, and as I feared, it was time for The Test. I was brought before the First Patriarch, I have never met him before, but I presumed he was like my father, blinded by zeal and numbed by faith. I was taken to the Hall of Poisons – a beautiful hall illuminated by an eerie green light that emanated from the cracks, embellished with ornate designs, and filled with webs and spiders. The First Patriarch stood tall at the end of the hallway but was veiled by the darkness. I approached him and to my surprise, it was not who I expected it to be – instead I found a statue of Baraeon Ca’Duz.
Out of the darkness, the clerics and the First Patriarch emerged while uttering a language that I am not versed with. Slowly, my body was becoming heavy, the floor I stood upon was covered with a spider web that glowed green, and the statue’s eyes glowed green as well. The First Patriarch and his clerics disappeared into the darkness, and I was left alone with the statue. The eyes of the statue steadily glowed until it focused its glow on me, my body stiffened and I was in a haze, as if I were in trance. At that point in time, I was under the shadow of the Prince of Hate himself. Under a deep haze, I fell unconscious; my life was handed over to Baraeon Ca'Duz, my judge and executioner.
I woke up in my chambers as if it was all a bad dream; apparently I passed for I was still alive. I was so weak, as if I was struck with a Feeblemind spell. I felt a sense of alleviation, as if I had just cheated death. But still, regardless of the outcome, I was still fearful for myself.
A week later, while observing two wizards banter about whose magic is more potent, I was summoned by the First Patriarch again. Apparently, I was not the only one to be summoned, a huge number of my kin were summoned as well; apparently, he was not finished with us yet. We were to take part in another test, perhaps this one isn’t as mind boggling. This made perfect sense, the First Patriarch is planning to eliminate all future threats, how shrewd; by minimizing the number of adult Dark Elves, all houses will lose a number of potential soldiers, ingenious indeed.
Without hesitation, the second test was commenced; all of us were separated into pairs, and were blindfolded in preparation for the test. My blindfold was removed and I gazed upon a tremendous sight, we were taken to a balancing beam in a very deep chasm. Obviously, the main objective is to survive and dispatch the other; the moment the priests rang the bell, my opponent and I froze in order to maintain the balance. He stared at me with such a vile ambience, while raising his sword at me; he claims that the faster person will be the victor, perhaps he didn’t account for the weight of his weapon and armor. Apparently, he was wrong, because as soon as he ran for the edge, I made my way slowly towards the edge so as to shift the balance and obviously, the beam tilted, and as soon as it did, he fell into the chasm while I managed to grasp the edge of the rails. Such a pity, he was indeed fast, but an imbecile nonetheless.
After the first trial, they took us all into a colossal chamber with four passages; three are adorned with ornate symbols, and exuded the stench of blood, while one was the passage we came from. As soon as we reached the chamber, the priests exclaimed, “Sway from the path laid before you and you shall be torn apart by your own selfishness.” As soon as the priests were done, they all disappeared into the darkness. Baffled by what they just heard, nearly half the men went through the three passages. Once they got through, the passages were magically sealed shut, and blood flowed through the cracks. Only 6 of us were left, and obviously, the only way to go to is through the way we came, once we made our way out, the priest was already waiting for us at the amphitheater. He explained it thoroughly that to go against tradition would result to death; those who went through the three doors were either drawn to them or were just half-witted. I felt a cold chill up my spine; I realized that regardless of whether I make it to the surface or not, eventually my brethren will find me.
The amphitheater was trembling from the loud chatter of the spectators; apparently, we were to duel until the First Patriarch is certain that we have proven ourselves to the Prince of Hate. While waiting for the gates to be opened, we were separated into teams of two; I was teamed up with Laele, a cleric of Baraeon Ca’Duz and Njutar, a fighter, both of them from a rival house. In order to organize the team properly, Laele made it clear that failure will result in no quarter for all of us. A momentary truce was acknowledged by everyone and that after the final trial, we would all become enemies again. The bells clang and the iron gates were open; we descended outside slowly and cautiously, the air was still and filled with the stench of rotting flesh. The other gate opened and our opponents descended from the darkness, two brutish fighters and a rogue. The bells clang once again and the battle had begun, the two fighters immediately rushed towards us, one of them nearly cleaved my head but Laele parried the attack. Njutar and Laele dealt with the two brutes while I was to support them and incapacitate the rogue. If I didn’t do anything quickly we would lose our lives, running towards them, I cast a Light spell and managed daze the two fighters, giving Njutar a chance to deal the killing blow. Unfortunately, Njutar also exposed himself and was stabbed in the back by the rogue; the crowd roared in excitement as their bodies fell on the ground. Laele was concentrating very hard, and was inflicting magical wounds on his opponent. The fighter eventually fell on the ground, and I unleashed upon him a Ray of Frost spell which ended his life. After I cast the spell, the rogue managed to stab me in the back. I fell on my knees, and I was slowly weakening, but luckily, Laele was able to heal my wound, which gave me enough strength to cast a Sleep spell on the rogue. Laele was about to bludgeon the rogue when the First Patriarch called for a halt, sparing the rogue’s life and signaled that the savagery was over. I never felt so tired and exhilarated at the same time, as if the life has been sucked out of me and yet I yearn to move on; I commend the First Patriarch’s cunning plan, but it will take more than three trials to get rid of me.
Years passed, and I sought an escape from this world in perpetual struggle; I desired a place wherein I will no longer be hindered by these simpletons – I sought the surface world. I immediately devised a plan that would allow me to leave Eilndar and make my way through the surface world. I struck a deal with Matriarch Volthrae of House Phyristra; in exchange for unhindered access to the House she would give me the keys to the southern gate, which will allow me to leave for the surface world safely while at the same time stir enough chaos to keep the sentries pre-occupied. Of course, I expected treachery from her and I warned my family of an imminent attack on the compound. Believing that a surprise attack comprised of her and a few of her best would be enough eradicate our house; she foolishly entered the compound and suffered a savage ambush. As soon as the savagery was over, I quickly took the key from the matriarch’s corpse before the slaves cleaned up the mess. Seeing that it would be the perfect time to eradicate House Phyristra, my mother sent all of her minions to war. Bringing with me all the necessities I would need, I watched from afar as a battle raged on the streets of Eilndar. As I entered the new world, I placed myself at risk, I’m sure my brethren are going to hunt me, and by the time they reach me, I shall be ready to silence them one by one.
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