I wrote a story. (non-wg)

[Ulfric Blackheart]

[Authors notes: This is a story about a DnD character I created but for me he grew into more than that. He is my alter ego. Over the course of creating his story he really became a part of me, and taken on a life of his own. He is more me than even my fursona, but at the same token, he is the Mr. Hyde to my Dr. Jekyl. Now, for actual story notes. This takes place in the DnD world of Eberron, with is sort of steampunkish in feel but not quite as technologically advanced as typical steampunk settings, and is supplemented by magic. A world of film-noir intrigue. We start in the city of Sharn and move eastward. Questions and commentary, for good or ill are always welcomed. Also, this is only the first half. I'll do part two where he really grows into a man tomorrow. This was all previously written but I am going through and typing it all up now. All that said, on with the show!]

The History of Telemain Krasskova.

A Spiral Into The Abyss

Our anti-hero, Telemain, started from not-so-humble beginings as the son of a very prominent courier and business man of the Dragonmarked House Orien. Telemain d'Orien, a tall for his age, black haired, green eyed youth, was a bit of a troublemaker, as he was constantly sneaking into his father's caravan wagons and pilfering small trinkets or the occassional copper or silver coin. However one day as he was sneaking around the most recent caravan stopped to replenish supplies, stumbled upon a very ornate but small locked chest which seemed to be made of ebony wood and trimmed in silver with a keyhole that was centered in the palm of a six fingered obsidian hand. Needless to say that our young scoundrel, barely thirteen years of age, could not contain his curiousity and proceded to pull his lock picks from a hidden pocket in his boot.

Just as he was about to start picking the lock he could here a small clicking sound coming from the mysterious box. The lock was opening of it's own accord and the lid soon followed suit! Though surprised and wary he could not turn back now before finding out what was inside the chest, and perhaps why it suddenly opened on its own. He carefully peered inside the strange container but all he could see was a few old manuscripts, though perhaps old was an understatement. For they appeared to be ancient and made of a very odd form of vellum. He carefully picked the up and started rifling through them. It was not written in the common tounge, yet to his amazement he found himself able to read every word of the harshly drawn runic inscriptions of unknown origin. As he read and inspected closer it seemed that all the pages were actually ripped out of some greater tome, and all pertaining to the same thing, same person, or rather same being, known as Graz'zt, The Black One, Lord of the Ebon Hand. The pages told of worship of this blasphemous Demon Lord of The Abyss, describing him as pitch black of skin, having six fingers on each hand, six small horns atop his head, yet still being exotically handsome, and a creature of great lusts and even greater cunning.

The daring young theif quickly closed the chest and made off with the papers, barricading himself in his room to learn all he could from this surely forbidden tidbit of blasphemous lore. Before sunrise, after memorizing every scrap of information his prize could offer him, he snuck back through the caravan to the box, which once again opened at his approach to accept the papers again. He knew this kind of information could not be kept lest he bring more trouble on his head than even his father could likely handle.

Telemain continued his usual theivery from his fathers business for two years thereafter, always careful and never taking more than what he knew could be counted as "lost in transit". However, over these years he never lost his obsession with the knowledge he had gained from those old manuscripts. He became a devotee of The Dark Prince in secret, building a shrine in his honor in the long abandoned escape tunnels under his father's headquarters, which were remnants of The Last War (named as such because after such bloodshed, sure there would never be another of it's scale).

It continued like this untill his father, being a business minded individual looking for a profit, decided to inspect the tunnels and contemplate on how to capitalize on so much wasted space on his property, when he happened to stumble across Telemain in the middle of one of his heretical devotionals, bowing and chanting in an unknown abyssal tongue to a large black six fingered hand, lit by dozens of candles, with what appeared to have once been a dog, dead and mutilated between his son and the grotesque idol.

The next few days were a horrible blur for our young thief. His father threatened to disown him and leave him to the 'mercy' of The Church of the Silver Flame, which would have been nothing less than a death sentence for commiting such blasphemey. For how could a well respected man such as Aglis d'Orien explain the actions of his son should the boys cultish ways be found out? The Church would have his head along with the boys! Without hesitation Telemain fled into the night and put his skill set to use on the back alleys of Sharn, using stealth and theivery to survive and evade all who would know him, eventually making his way to Trolanport, the coastal capital of the neighboring country of Zilargo. There he continued profiting in all manner of skullduggery, making particularly good money swindling sailors coming to port to renew their supplies and looking to win a few silver to spend on strong drink and women of the evening.

He well honed prowess also earned him a sense of arrogance, which did not send our now 17 year old Telemain well when he was caught stacking the deck in a game of Three Dragon Ante by a Drow crew in on of the town seedier back alley establishments. A brawl quickly broke out, Telemain using every ounce of strength he had to defend himself from the onslaught, but he was no match for the experenced Drow pirates. Bloody and bruised, Telemain was hoisted into the air with a single hand by their captain, his other dark hand holding the signiture long knife of Xen'drik Drow to the boys throat. In a fiery moment of pride and defiance in the face of death, he uttered a vile curse towards the captain, condemming him and his crew to eternal torment in The Abyss for treating a servant of Graz'zt in such a manner. This was the only time Telemain had ever dared to utter the name of his dark patron in the open for another living being to hear.

The captain smirked at the boy and dropped his crumpled body to the floor, and began to speak in a heavily accented, mocking tone, "So, not only do you dare speak the name of one of the Demon Lords, but you claim to be his disciple? You are a very lucky boy...I should kill you here and now. Not just for cheating my men, but for having the audacity to make such claims...and yet", The Captain took a deep breath and stroked his chin as if deep in thought, "the fact that you even have knowledge in such things interests me. This should not be wasted, as well as showing decent potential in combat. Join my crew and swear yourself to us and you may keep your life."

To Telemain the choice was clear. To stay alive and for a chance to learn more more about the forbidden lore he glimpsed long ago, he would join the Drow pirate crew.