My description and role (part I)...:

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Posted by Viscrinth on March 11, 2000 at 15:26:50:

Description:


Large, dark flowing robes are draped around this creature's figure. It moves
in a motion that is not easily described... jerkily, but with sickening fluidity.
A cold, milky-green light fills the otherwise empty cavities that once housed its
eyes, shedding a pale glow upon its face, if one could even call it a face. The
light has a strange glint of inhuman wisdom or tormented knowledge... something
about it could quickly hurl a mortal into the depths of insanity. The skin that
still manages to cling to its skull is torn, and looks a bit like withered and
browned parchment. Bits of dark bone are visible through the jagged holes in its
facial flesh. There seems to be a slight glow emanating from the depths of its
skull that is different from the one behind its eyes, showing through its mouth
and the crater that is half-clogged with rotting brown flesh where its nose should
be. It is not as much of a glow as it is a sparkle, similar to what you would see
reflecting off of the shell of a black beetle under the light of a flickering torch.

Its composure is surprisingly confident for a being that seems so frail, and
as it hovers by, small charms of assorted stones and minerals jingle softly
from within its elegent yet sour-smelling silk robes. Menacing, quiet whispers
emanate from this terrible display of undeath, cutting through the stale air
that surrounds it like the sharp blade that it wields. Its arms protrude from
the robes it wears, almost free from the grip of the dead flesh that clings
desperately to the dark bones. The rigid skeletal structure of its hands are
completely fleshless and wrapped tightly around an ancient blade of fine make
that is tarnished with the burden of years and notched slightly at the edges.
Viscrinth, a male undead, is in perfect health.

Role:


Viscrinth Intrakhus was born in a small village near Galadon, just off the
South Alindaer road in the plains. The village was rather self-sufficient and
tried not to, on most occasions, interact with the larger cities. Of course,
some things such as trade (and law enforcement, should a known criminal be spotted
within the village) worked their ways into the quiet village. During his early youth,
Viscrinth never associated himself with any true moral alignment, but he understood
that a certain degree of order was necessary to achieve his goals (which at that
time were rather simple, and were usually somewhere between completing his chores
and seducing the pretty girl he saw in Galadon during the last meat sale.)
At the age of eighteen, life as he knew it was shattered in two quick, powerful blows.

Viscrinth's parents dabbled in the arts of Magic... Although they were not true
mages, they knew some of the more basic spells of the school of invocation. They
put on shows from time to time, firing off a few balls of fire into the air on
special occasions and such. On the thirtieth anniversary of the village's founding,
they had decided to try something new. They began to study certain creatures and
things in the elemental canyon and within the guilds of Galadon (which is strange,
as they rarely ventured there). They rushed in their studies, to meet the deadline,
the date of the anniversary festival, and in their foolish, uncontrollable and childish
eagerness, they studied only the basics of what had needed to be known. The festival came,
and the very beginning of the festival marked the very end of all happiness for the village.
Any competant invoker beyond the earliest of ranks would have been able to perform
the spell correctly. Viscrinth's parents attempted to make a massive wall of fire
dance about the outskirts of the village, causing no harm to anyone or anything.
The wall of fire closed in upon the festival, not upon everyone, but a good deal of
people were scarred, houses, farms and crops burned and livestock destroyed.
Three people were killed. In a village consisting of few more than eighty, this was a
devastation. They were almost immediately sentenced to death by the town council,
and although Viscrinth was emotionally destroyed, he felt that no injustice had been done.

Not long after this event, a plague overtook most of Thera. The village fell within
a matter of months, and Viscrinth was of the few survivors. Although this did not
drive him into insanity, it is safe to say that he was never quite right again. He
had watched everyone that was left of the village deteriorate into rotten husks
of what they were, and began to view people in a different way... Spirits in a
flawed container. He blamed nature for what had happened, and intended to study
the art that defied nature, and spat in its face. He intended to destroy nature.
He sought out the famed Tower of the Five Magics with little training or experience,
but with determination and a passion for the extreme opposite of Nature, the flawless
and limitless wonder that is Magic. Bhugoliara spoke with him, and gave him a chance
to enter the Tower. He was to gather two potions that represent each Magic. Viscrinth
completed the quest rather quickly, and when Bhugoliara returned, she was pleased
with his determination and love for Magic... He was inducted by her shortly before
nature destroyed his new leader, Bhugoliara.

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