You see Ghost Arkanon Wiren'Veil, Scholar of Ilithi, an Elf. Arkanon has an angular face with elegant arched eyebrows, pointed ears, red-veined blue-green eyes and a straight nose. His black hair is shoulder length and fine, and is worn loose. He has blue-veined skin and a lean build. He appears to be an adult. He is clean shaven.
He is wearing... usually a combination of black leather or bone armor adorned by an inquisitor's cassock.
1. Paid an obscene amount of coin to have a weapon master customize a harpoon he was rewarded from assisting the Ghost Ship crew, tainting the weapon with his necromatic powers. The diabolical abyssal-black harpoon is now wielded by Penethol..
2. Once insulted the Baron Gyfford by calling him fat at the Guildfest and then was spotted leading zombies into his throne room at the Therenborough Keep.
3. Involved in heavy research pertaining to blood magic.
4. Often found in Riverhaven supposedly on the hunt for his 'children' who have violated curfew while shouting 'Have you seen my zombie?'.
5. The funds for his spellbook were generously supplied by the Necrolord, Totenus.
Biggest Goal: In game spell creation. Heavily invested in blood magic and through his research he hopes to accomplish a trademark spell, one that is simple yet terrifying. Even if he can’t develop the magic through his own power he has a hidden hope to discover historical finds.
Baseline: Crazed lifesculpting bone elf turned necromancer. Group of individuals that acknowledged his insidious activities lead him down the path of necromancy, hinting him towards Zamidren Book and the monks to learn the basics. Arkanon accepted his newly found power, turned his back to the Gods and became a tedious operator of blood magic. Since joining the guild he has created the illusion of piracy to avoid the mainstream lifestyle, allowing him to master his new abilities by often abducting corpses from Riverhaven for his rituals.
Arkanon is beginning to discover that eventually his path will pilot him away from the beliefs of the Philosophers due to his more extreme nature. Some say he has started down the quest to descend to Lichdom, hoping that through his research he will be able to tap into the potential power in necromancy that is expressly forbidden. Though these are just rumors and not confirmed by Arkanon himself.
(This is but the origins of Arkanon, his life before becoming a necromancer which hints toward his outcome. Events proceeding this excerpt are not detailed.)
The highlight of his past includes the betrayal of his entire clan which once remained on the outskirts of the Dragonspire Mountains, shy of the spine amongst the forest. At first life was very simple for this wayward apprentice, mentored by his very father an undistinguished master lifesculpter. That task alone occupied much of his time during his younger years, coupled with his affinity to practicing sorcery while most believed him to be hunting to improve his skills. His mother, who he refers to as the ‘barded wench’ left his father to become the trophy wife of an upcoming politician in Shard.
While he never cast the illusion to himself of becoming a hunter, he did refine his skills with a short bow, using the local wildlife for target practice. His father later became the unfortunate victim of a plague he contracted from the south beyond Corik’s wall, leaving Arkanon a swell inheritance and superb social standing within his clan. After a couple decades of leading such a mundane lifestyle, Arkanon grew bored with those around him and began to detach himself from his peers, looking down on them for accepting the ordinary.One fateful day while he was practicing his forbidden magic, a lone horseman clad in armor came striding through the area atop of a beautiful pale white mare. It was within that moment that Arkanon decided to break all the rules that was fixed into his mind, the social litany that prevented him from murder or tragic wrongdoing. He wanted something that wasn’t his and nothing would stop him now.
Quickly shadowing the movements of the armored rider, Arkanon swiftly removed his bow and notched a crudely shaped wooden shaft affixed with a bone arrowhead. He held his aim towards the ground as he crouched low through the litter of thick redwood trees that surrounded a beaten path on which the rider calmly gallivanted upon, no care in the world. Though the mare was unconvinced, its senses were more refined and constantly alert. As fluidly as Arkanon drew back his makeshift ammunition and fired, the mare reared upward and unknowingly assisted his impending master. The arrow struck true, shallowly piercing into the back of the human’s neck and dismantling him from his steed. The armored man rolled around in pain for a moment, yelping and hollering in surrender but before he could get back to his feet the hunter emerged from the shade of the woods, a newly stricken arrow trained on his armor-less head. Silence ensued after his brief collision against the ground, blood straining from the two fresh wounds and he gave a final death embracing sigh, Arkanon dispensed no respect for the dead human and immediately secured the horse, his rightful spoil.
Arkanon found a new thrill in breaking the rules that was laid out before him and he swore that he would never confine himself to the pressure of society. His peers within the clan took no notice of his new horse, for they knew he obtained the resources to procure such a beast from his inheritance. The incident was ingrained into Arkanon’s mind however, the rush and excitement he felt was fleeting and he hungered for more. Murder after murder, it became second nature to him and people started to notice the casualties across the path that Arkanon often preyed upon. Patrols became evident, but during the night time there was a lone sentry who slacked in his situation awareness and fell victim to Arkanon’s pastime.
They began to sweep through the woods in attempt to locate the unseen terrorist. Arkanon decided to cut his losses and he chartered a few traders to begin and assess his wealth, that’s when his fellow clan mates began to notice. He brushed them off, hoping that they would settle for rumors but as time passed it was evident he was up to no good.
Knowing that it was imperative to cover his tracks or the manhunt would continue wherever he traveled, a scheme came to mind. The murders continued, but Arkanon now preserved evidence to frame his clan. He began to collect bodies of his victims and laying them to rest at a clearing right outside the vicinity of the village, buried carelessly. During the final night of his sanctuary with the village, he began to scatter his sorceries among the other elves possessions to further implement the illusion of their wrongdoing. Unfortunately, he had to part with the pale white mare that started it all, gifting it to his neighbor’s son as a gift, albeit an insidious one. Arkanon began his trek on foot, carrying very little as he already parted with the majority of his wealth, depositing his new inheritance of platinum somewhere off the mainland. His final task was almost too simple, he had to tip off the patrols that manned the path established through the woods just outside the Jademist River. After concocting a marvelous story about how he had just escaped a settlement nestled deep in the woods, the Shard officials organized a militia to investigate the village. Soon after discovering the planted the evidence, his clan members were all slaughtered and the village was reduced to scorched rubble.
A day in the life... of a forsaken Necromancer.
Fighting against the precipitous current Arkanon felt an unwanted presence lurking around him, a feeling tantamount to a spectral presence staring at the back of his head. The odd feeling was unshakeable, at this point his life he tried often to dismiss it like an annoying mosquito buzzing around in his face but sometimes, it was quite simply… exasperating. Maybe it was the coldness of the winter river befuddling his thoughts, making him spring to action. If they want to badger me… let me give them something to complain about. He was already halfway across the Faldesu River, just wading through the strongest portion of the current where the massive boulder lay before he heard a familiar thoughtcast. “Leave the province at once…” another annoying rhetorical device in which he had to suffer through.
It was bewildering at how often they pursued him, by now they recognized him through any disguise he constructed. What real threat did he ever possess? So far, nothing he has done to the community has put a real damper on their civil obedience. That’s something he couldn’t argue against, the Baron Gyfford had a vice-grip on his people’s beliefs, like he disillusioned them all himself. Arkanon reached the end of the stream, completely soaked and feeling numb from the elements of winter and the lack of sun to reinvigorate him. With the slightest whisper and nonchalant gesture of his hand he was cloaked, deafening silence taking hold as his mutation concluded. Normally he would have trouble climbing the crumbling old bridge, but the path was nothing other than muscle memory after having traversed this way so often. The real threat to the community of Theren was their decaying architecture, just another example of their priorities.
As soon as he emerged from the bridge, he sight was set on the newly bricked stone house to the east and the guardsman wielding his rusted pike. Using nothing but force of pure will he commanded his accomplice forward, which almost immediately appeared from the tree line to the east. The necrotic fire maiden stumbled forth, wielding a soot-blackened greatsword and groaning it’s loudest as it directed a killer mentality toward the guardsman. Though it wasn’t his goal to slaughter the sentry, he pursued through the gates, arriving at the grounds with his philosopher’s knife wielded in his left hand. A slight wince and drag of his blade against his coarse hands ensued, blood quickly pooling from the elongated wound. He moved forward through the massive double doors, droplets of blood following in his wake and before he dispersed through he paused, leaving a bloody handprint at the face of the rich mahogany door.
His focus hastened as he was unsure if the presence watching him was still scrying his whereabouts, either way it would not be long until the converged upon him. Stepping through the lobby he continued on through the banquet hall, rifling through his duffel bag he grabbed a plethora of poisonous viper sacs. Arkanon stabbed through each of the sacs, letting their fluids drain out across the elegant rations that were stockpiled atop a buffet draped with a golden-hued tablecloth. His senses alerted him to the downfall of his distraction, knowing that his time was now up. Eat like the kings you feel you are, my friends..
A pair of heavy footsteps pronounced themselves and as quickly as he arrived, he had disappeared leaving a Kaldarian brute dumbfounded.
'Uninhibited Carnage: Reign of Terror Renewed'
The mid-afternoon sun beamed down across the street with magnificence, inviting the town of Riverhaven a long awaited respite from the persistent rainfall over the last couple of days. Standing at perfect attention between the entrance to the hospital and the Empath guild a warden in mirror finished plate armor surveyed the scene, staying alert to the various activities that transpired around him. Breaking his bearing, a smile formed at his lips as his eyes shifted to a group of children romping around in a puddle nearby, two Halfling lads and a human boy playing with wooden swords and chasing each other vigilantly.
One of the Halfling kids belted out suddenly, “NooOOooOo, Merril, me! I wanna be the Baron this time! You be Viggew!” flailing his sword as another tripped over themselves. Arguing on they ran after each other continuing their epic battle towards the town square where other townsfolk hustled about busily. As the warden observed them he failed to witness the human kid standing below him, eyes wide, with a curious look written about his face.
He uttered soft words, “Hello mister…” his eyes glued on a steel shield imprinted with the Therengian crest. The boy reminded him of his own son who was at the academy in the Crossing with a tutor, whom for he patiently stood the extra watches for in order to afford his lessons. He had light brown hair, hazel eyes, a dirty white tunic and he was holding out a tiny glass orb cupped in his small hands.
The boy outstretched his hands, offering the glass orb to the warden. “Lookit! I found dis…” The man’s eyes sharpened, transfixed on the tiny glass orb, he was familiar with the dangerous object. Before he could react the orb drifted out of the kid’s grasp, floating lazily in the air beside them as a thin pale mist began to stir inside, swirling around fervently in reaction to something. Standing in amazement with his mouth wide open the little boy let out an “Oooooh, magic!” while the warden drew his sword swiftly, lashing out at it. The orb languidly floated out of the way as the plate-clad man fell to his knees after exerting his entire body weight through the force of his rampant sword arm.
Almost in perfect harmony, a pair of lifeless violet eyes suddenly appeared in a shadowy alley across the buildings at the same instance Arkanon materialized out of thin air holding the glass orb between his thumb and index finger.
“Phlebotomize my dear beautiful creatures…” The raven haired elven man flourished his cold blue-veined hand toward the warden, petrifying him where he kneeled as a zombie barghest shuffled lifelessly from the veil of shadows in the alleyway, creeping ever so closer to him. “Watch first as you do, then you have my permission to die.” Rolling the tiny glass orb back into his palm, he applied the slightest force to shatter the object, driving microscopic glass shards deep into his hand as he squeezed at it more furious, with his own blood dripping at his feet. A delayed, unseen explosion sent the necromancer reeling backward as blood flowed outward in a stream toward a focal point in the ground where he stood and collided with a nearby wall, apparently knocked unconscious from the impact and his weakened state.
The little human boy stood there, instilled with absolute terror as the events in front of him played out. He looked entirely helpless as a single tear rolled down his cheek, his body shaking but unable to move from his own fear. The mass of glass shard and blood exhausted its construction, the blood stream from Arkanon no longer betraying his presence as his form abruptly faded from sight. A woman appeared at the doorway to the hospital, a shiny button labeled “Empath on duty!” betraying her presence accompanied by a piercing shriek that commanded the glass construct’s attentions before she staggered back inside calling out for help. The abomination roiled violently after her, disappearing into the building as multiple screams cried out in agony and despair followed by complete silence.
Both the warden and human boy gazed at each other, the man’s eyes glimmered with a hint of sadness from the boy’s horror-struck visage as he knelt, still frozen by the necromancer’s magic. As the zombie barghest swayed over him now he thought a silent prayer to Chadatru before witnessing the boy drawn away with his hands reaching out for help, taken by the unseen presence of Arkanon almost as if he was being carried away by a ghostly force. An alarming sensation of pain manifested from the warden’s neck as the zombie dug its claws into his flesh and then its fangs sank murderously into his skull. Blood tainted his vision before the kid disappeared entirely, the once joy filled face now permanently infused with hopelessness and dread was the last thing he ever saw.