OOC: This is the first Lore Story for my character Andreas Myrslin, so please understand this is meant to deliver a more in-depth feeling about the character, so some mature themes such as depression, loss, anger, and abuse may be present. You have been warned.
Drip.
Drip..
Drip...
Drip...
Drip...
Drip...
Silence echoed down the long twisting sewer tunnels as Andreas could only hear the sound of dripping water or some other kind of liquid in the place he had kept to for nearly five entire decades. He had been wandering these old decrepit tunnels for years and all they provided him was a source to begin his repentance. The memory of his beloved children and wife dying on that fateful day of the slave rebellion haunted him akin to a looming spectre-a mere shade-that did not wish to be banished from his presence. Each breath he took within those damp and dark sewer tunnels only served to make him feel more sadness and-with no one to criticize or to bother him, offering comfort in his time of need-he wept silently. The monster that the sewer dwellers had become to recognize him as was merely a farce-a mask he wore to hide what really hid beneath the bravado and the hatred.
Some of the people he knew-such as Sage Rowe-had firsthand experience seeing beneath the masks he wore, but still believed the bravado and hatred were what he really was. There were times that he wanted to cry and expect the warm embrace of his wife Clariss and their lovely children back home in the Dread Empire, but reality only served to remind him that they were dead and gone forever. Recently, he had grown to care for Abigail Tucker-a mere courtesan in the Hidden Dragon-and two males. Both of them were attractive, but they were no replacement for Clariss. Connak Fayden came close to healing that wound, but even when the Void gave him three people to love, it was not without its costs.
He wept for a good few moments before unbridled and lethal fury rose to the surface, breaking the silence as his screams of rage echoed down the long sewer tunnels, only managing to scare off the rats and other critters who were nearby. He hated the Ailor slaves who killed his family and the comfort of his rage-fueled by the fires of love-had burned away the sadness he had in that moment. The monster had felt like he had no more room for another love as if his heart yearned for his love and their children who now lay dead and buried in a secret place that only he and Clariss knew.
Connak would only come so close to healing that wound in his heart-in his core-but it would never be enough. Only the love of his life could heal such a wound, but she was now dead and buried, decaying away in the very place they had first consummated their marriage. It was a special place for him to bury his lover on the spot where they shared a very special connection as it was close to his heart. The place he had buried her and their children was special as it was the same place where his heart was opened wide to the possibility of love as she had asked him on that place to become her husband. She had berated him twice as hard when she realized that he enjoyed the pain of others and reveled in receiving it too as if Andreas was a true pureblood Shenath Kathar, his body craving the sensation and thrills of combat and passion.
He recalled the times she whipped him and threatened to castrate him if he didn't comply with her orders, but to them both, they put on a good show of female dominance. He knew he was the real dominating force in their relationship, but he allowed her to put on the show if she made it brutal. Andreas craved the pain as if its blissful yet painful feeling served to remind he was alive, but now years after her death, he needed the rush of pain. He needed to feel alive instead of feeling weak even in the heart of his most hated enemy's country.
He sought the memories of her smile and the brutality of the past. Andreas needed anything he could recall that would fuel his fire-that would fuel the monster within his core-but found nothing that could fuel his fire. The only feeling he had was the depression that hit him when he recalled all the memory of his family as if his entire being was filled with a sense of longing to the point he'd nearly wish to commit suicide. He knew how to do it too as he long since thought up on how to best kill himself and even in the most gruesome ways were considered, but however, before he would have been able to do the deed, something stopped him. It was something external, yet unseen that forced him to stay alive. Andreas believed that the Void itself had interfered in his previous attempts as if it was not quite ready to accept him into the fold-into the warm embrace of death-because it might have believed something was not quite yet right.
"No, not yet..." Andreas would say to himself as he clasped his hand into a fist. He would repeat that until he screamed it out loud enough to break the silence and the tunnels echoed with his screeching. For all the critters who inhabited the nearby tunnels, he begun to rebound from depression to anger within a split instance of time. He had begun to burn deep within his core as if that once weak and sputtering out spark within him roared to life and became a wildfire of the strongest caliber. "I will not fall. I will not succumb. She wouldn't want me to die by my own hand, but fight to live as if every battle would be my last..."
His anger burned strong within his core, leaving no room for the depression that began to fuel his flame or the sadness that would slowly extinguish such. There was no magic or force in all of Aloria that would quell his anger-his immense fury-and he would make sure that no matter what, Andreas would keep burning bright until his time would come. Even if anyone made the unfortunate mistake of crossing him in this state, his anger and fury were uncontrollable as if reignited and it was commanded back into being by sheer willpower.
The monster had endured suffering and in turn, no manner of demon would corrupt him for you see, his strength flourishes when challenged. No demon of any caliber would willingly stay in him for long once they realized his core was already corrupted, but not any demonic or ritualistic force. No vampire or werebeast infected his being, but it was clear that even if fed from by a werebeast or becoming possessed by a demon, Andreas burned with a fury deep within his core that was self-created. He thrived on pain and he knew he was a monster created by the union of two cannibalistic Shenath, but the one thing about him that even his enemies and allies would come to realize was that he would be the only Kathar that they'd experience who flat-out denied having a demon possess him or attain abilities of the vampiric kind as he favored strength above all else.
In the shadows of the tunnel nearby Andreas, he gazed upon the sight of the corpses of those he had killed and collected their coin a week ago. They were decaying, but the smell of the sewers masked the scent of decaying flesh from even those that dare come near them. Some of the corpses that he didn't eat before they started to decay still had that look of primordial fear in their faces just before death descended onto them. They grew scared of the monster in the shadows because one nickname Andreas favored that those in his hunting parties liked to call him was symbolic to his status as a monster in the Regalian sewers.
He was called "The Shadow Killer."
OOC: Another note at the end of this tale is that no one was either awake or willing to venture deep into the sewers where Andreas was located in and thus, no one outside of Andreas would know IC'ly of this. The tale was meant to further go in-depth of the character and be relevant to their development...
Drip.
Drip..
Drip...
Drip...
Drip...
Drip...
Silence echoed down the long twisting sewer tunnels as Andreas could only hear the sound of dripping water or some other kind of liquid in the place he had kept to for nearly five entire decades. He had been wandering these old decrepit tunnels for years and all they provided him was a source to begin his repentance. The memory of his beloved children and wife dying on that fateful day of the slave rebellion haunted him akin to a looming spectre-a mere shade-that did not wish to be banished from his presence. Each breath he took within those damp and dark sewer tunnels only served to make him feel more sadness and-with no one to criticize or to bother him, offering comfort in his time of need-he wept silently. The monster that the sewer dwellers had become to recognize him as was merely a farce-a mask he wore to hide what really hid beneath the bravado and the hatred.
Some of the people he knew-such as Sage Rowe-had firsthand experience seeing beneath the masks he wore, but still believed the bravado and hatred were what he really was. There were times that he wanted to cry and expect the warm embrace of his wife Clariss and their lovely children back home in the Dread Empire, but reality only served to remind him that they were dead and gone forever. Recently, he had grown to care for Abigail Tucker-a mere courtesan in the Hidden Dragon-and two males. Both of them were attractive, but they were no replacement for Clariss. Connak Fayden came close to healing that wound, but even when the Void gave him three people to love, it was not without its costs.
He wept for a good few moments before unbridled and lethal fury rose to the surface, breaking the silence as his screams of rage echoed down the long sewer tunnels, only managing to scare off the rats and other critters who were nearby. He hated the Ailor slaves who killed his family and the comfort of his rage-fueled by the fires of love-had burned away the sadness he had in that moment. The monster had felt like he had no more room for another love as if his heart yearned for his love and their children who now lay dead and buried in a secret place that only he and Clariss knew.
Connak would only come so close to healing that wound in his heart-in his core-but it would never be enough. Only the love of his life could heal such a wound, but she was now dead and buried, decaying away in the very place they had first consummated their marriage. It was a special place for him to bury his lover on the spot where they shared a very special connection as it was close to his heart. The place he had buried her and their children was special as it was the same place where his heart was opened wide to the possibility of love as she had asked him on that place to become her husband. She had berated him twice as hard when she realized that he enjoyed the pain of others and reveled in receiving it too as if Andreas was a true pureblood Shenath Kathar, his body craving the sensation and thrills of combat and passion.
He recalled the times she whipped him and threatened to castrate him if he didn't comply with her orders, but to them both, they put on a good show of female dominance. He knew he was the real dominating force in their relationship, but he allowed her to put on the show if she made it brutal. Andreas craved the pain as if its blissful yet painful feeling served to remind he was alive, but now years after her death, he needed the rush of pain. He needed to feel alive instead of feeling weak even in the heart of his most hated enemy's country.
He sought the memories of her smile and the brutality of the past. Andreas needed anything he could recall that would fuel his fire-that would fuel the monster within his core-but found nothing that could fuel his fire. The only feeling he had was the depression that hit him when he recalled all the memory of his family as if his entire being was filled with a sense of longing to the point he'd nearly wish to commit suicide. He knew how to do it too as he long since thought up on how to best kill himself and even in the most gruesome ways were considered, but however, before he would have been able to do the deed, something stopped him. It was something external, yet unseen that forced him to stay alive. Andreas believed that the Void itself had interfered in his previous attempts as if it was not quite ready to accept him into the fold-into the warm embrace of death-because it might have believed something was not quite yet right.
"No, not yet..." Andreas would say to himself as he clasped his hand into a fist. He would repeat that until he screamed it out loud enough to break the silence and the tunnels echoed with his screeching. For all the critters who inhabited the nearby tunnels, he begun to rebound from depression to anger within a split instance of time. He had begun to burn deep within his core as if that once weak and sputtering out spark within him roared to life and became a wildfire of the strongest caliber. "I will not fall. I will not succumb. She wouldn't want me to die by my own hand, but fight to live as if every battle would be my last..."
His anger burned strong within his core, leaving no room for the depression that began to fuel his flame or the sadness that would slowly extinguish such. There was no magic or force in all of Aloria that would quell his anger-his immense fury-and he would make sure that no matter what, Andreas would keep burning bright until his time would come. Even if anyone made the unfortunate mistake of crossing him in this state, his anger and fury were uncontrollable as if reignited and it was commanded back into being by sheer willpower.
The monster had endured suffering and in turn, no manner of demon would corrupt him for you see, his strength flourishes when challenged. No demon of any caliber would willingly stay in him for long once they realized his core was already corrupted, but not any demonic or ritualistic force. No vampire or werebeast infected his being, but it was clear that even if fed from by a werebeast or becoming possessed by a demon, Andreas burned with a fury deep within his core that was self-created. He thrived on pain and he knew he was a monster created by the union of two cannibalistic Shenath, but the one thing about him that even his enemies and allies would come to realize was that he would be the only Kathar that they'd experience who flat-out denied having a demon possess him or attain abilities of the vampiric kind as he favored strength above all else.
In the shadows of the tunnel nearby Andreas, he gazed upon the sight of the corpses of those he had killed and collected their coin a week ago. They were decaying, but the smell of the sewers masked the scent of decaying flesh from even those that dare come near them. Some of the corpses that he didn't eat before they started to decay still had that look of primordial fear in their faces just before death descended onto them. They grew scared of the monster in the shadows because one nickname Andreas favored that those in his hunting parties liked to call him was symbolic to his status as a monster in the Regalian sewers.
He was called "The Shadow Killer."
OOC: Another note at the end of this tale is that no one was either awake or willing to venture deep into the sewers where Andreas was located in and thus, no one outside of Andreas would know IC'ly of this. The tale was meant to further go in-depth of the character and be relevant to their development...
