Norrittsama
09-24-2007, 07:25 PM
<p>((Forgive me, as this is my first attempt at any type of board-utilized roleplay. After bantering with a RPer in level chat, then chatting with him in tells, he inspired me to try typing all this background out for general perusal. I apoligize in advance for any mistakes in lore or whatnot, as I have said, this is my first shot at this. At the end of the day, however, may the words in this post add a little light to your world. Best regards, Norrittsama))</p><p>--From the Application for Inquisitorial Promotion, Form 2991Z, Essays on the Past section Temple of the Dismal Rage, Codification Annexe 21--</p><p>Fear. Fear is what we are taught from hatching to adulthood, even unto death. Fear of our God, fear of our surroundings. Instilling fear in the softskins. Destroying that which does not fear us.</p><p>Fear of the unknown.</p><p>It is this last that led me to break relations with my people.</p><p>My name is Asphyxious Daemortus, and I serve the Holy Inquisition of my Saviour, Overlord Lucan d'Lere. I am Iksar. I have scales, and a tail, and I hiss when I speak. But I do not claim kinship with my ilk in the Scale Yard. Their irrational fear frustrated me far too long. Allow me to explain, gentle reader.</p><p>As a hatchling, I was taught the history of my people. The evils of Venril Sathir. The crushing, soul searing oppression of Freeport. Fear and respect to Cazic Thule. At the same time, I saw things so abhorrent that my mind still shrinks from their implications. Deciet, lies, cold, calculated cruelty for no other reason than to cause another being pain. Children living in squalor. Adults destroying those children utterly so as to gain status and prestige with whatever gang of ruffians they chose to associate with. Iksar slaying Iksar. All in the name of fear. And yet, the Brood Matrons held our race on a pedistal, touting our superiority to the softskins. </p><p>Hypocricy at its finest. Somehow, seeing that selfsame Brood Matron snatching what little food her clutch had from their claws gave the lie to her notions of a higher state of being.</p><p>I grew up, and as children are wont to do, and began exploring outside the Scale Yard. There is an oft told tale, particularly in the propaganda of Qeynos, about how Overlord d'Lere enslaved the Iksar race toward the end of the Age of Turmoil. It is my fervent belief that He did no such thing. After seeing what I saw, living through what I lived through, in Scale Yard, I am convinced that He saved us from ourselves. Without His benevolent intervention, we would have perished at our own claws.</p><p>While wandering through the safest portions of the Ruins one afternoon, I gazed upon the statue of His Holiness. Behold! It spoke to me! It convinced me that I was more than the sum of my people. That service to Him was the highest calling I could aspire to. Thus it was that I approached the Temple of the Dismal Rage and applied for service in His Highest Holiness's Holy Inquisition.</p><p>My people laughed, scoffed, and spit upon my plate mail. They shunned me, as they are wont to do of the unknown. Suddenly, I was exalted, while they were still grubbing for their meals. I was someone to watch, someone to aspire to be. I was, according to them, a negative influence on their children. I shunned Cazic, I shunned the shamanistic heresies of my tribal tradition. I spat upon them all in return, revolted by what I beheled anew. Things continued in this way until I recieved my first posting, as an Inquisitior in the Outpost of the Overlord.</p><p>The Outpost posting was important to me. It was my first chance to shine in the sunlight. To show those fools in Scale Yard who was right and who was wrong. All about me, Qeynosians fell. I was a rock, immovable, inviolable, and indestructable. Nothing could stop me. The Faith burned in me, brightly and strongly. I was exultant, not in the bloodshed, but in the honourable combat, emulating my Lord's own chivalry. Never let it be said that Overlord d'Lere fights dishonourably. Before His apotheosis, He learned his style from the Order of Marr. Thus do I also endeavour to never taint the name of Freeport with dirty tricks and shady tactics. Straight up fighting, man to man, face to face. Anything else is a taint, and therefore a heresy.</p><p>Upon my return from the Outpost, Brood Matron Viksis pleaded that I turn from my ways and recant my faith. I struck her full in the mouth with my mailed fist. She slowly turned from me, hate and malice in her eyes. I spoke three words she will never forget. "He forgives you." That's the point, though, is it not? He forgives us all our weaknesses, our failures. Overlord d'Lere even forgives Opal Darkbriar for her treachery, may He forgive me that I do not. His eyes are too exalted to see base connivance.</p><p>I packed my meagre belongings and departed Scale Yard, never to see it again. May all its denizins rot in Fear for all I care. They are evil. They are twisted creatures who have no concept of forward advances. They only see the glories of their past, and dwell on what could have been.</p><p>I will not make that mistake. I will use all the power that His High Holiness grants me to ensure the Age of Mortals is an age free of ignorance, free of corruption. Free of heresy.</p><p>May the Overlord guide my arms in this endeavour. May His grace cover all my mistakes. May His mercy commit me to a life in His service.</p><p>In His Holiest of Names, I reamin His servant,</p><p>Asphyxious Daemortus</p><p>Inquisitor, Church of Lucan, Felwithe Crusade, 19th Expeditionary Force</p>