A primordial scream echoed through the summoning chamber. The thousands
of blood candles lining the round room burst into blue flames as a black
vortex began to form in the center. The priestess continued to chant as
they moved from the alcoves, coming together at the center of the room.
Upon the black iron slab, the matron mother moaned, and pushed against the
birthing restraints. A folded bloody cloth was clenched in her teeth and
her eyes blazed with an intense fury. Her stomach, enormously enlarged with
the final stages of pregnancy rippled under the force of the magic being
channeled into her body. Tiny gouts of blood sprayed from between her legs
as the magic began to pull the abomination from her womb. From within the
vortex of darkness a set of gloomy eyes studied the procedure. A hissing,
crackling whisper spread outwards from the shadow vortex as the beings
conversed with each other as they watched.
The matron mother began to shake as the apparition began to pull itself
from her birthing canal. An eerie shadow-like humanoid, bending the light
around itself, forced itself onto the iron slab. Covered in the bloody gore
of its birthing, it reeked of brimstone and death. The spectre's opaque
eyes scanned the chamber while turning itself towards the writhing matron.
It gulped down chunks of the afterbirth, its efforts pulling the umbilical
cord from the prone drow. From within the shadow vortex, the hissing
intensified. The spectre turned its head quickly, sending a spray of blood
across the chamber. It shrieked a high-pitched scream toward the vortex as
it began to rise from the table. The screeching sounds intensified as the
creature began to cloak itself in shadows. The candles began to go out one
by one, as the spectre composed itself on the table.
The priestess rushed to the side of the prone matron mother. Her eyes
were rolled back in her head, and the lifeblood continued to pour from her
ravaged womb. The elder daughter approached the creature and held out her
hand for inspection and attempting to leash the shadowy creature with her
shaking hands. As the last of the candles snuffed out. The creature bit
off the hand of the elder daughter. As it turned its hunger and fury upon
the drow, the shadow walkers in the rift began to hiss in a manner that
could only be described as laughter. The screams of the drow soon drowned
out the laughter of the Mazush.
The apex predator, a spectral drow was born, the ritual was completed and
finally Rodyn's last efforts to declare sovereignty over Serin's towns have
begun to unfold. With a shriek, the young spectre swiftly jumped out of
the open window and begun to make its way towards Seringale with only one
mission in mind - to seek out and eradicate all that is Chaos or any danger
to the Law.
No Gods, No Masters
Serving the Law had taken its toll on young Mazush, his efforts to
instill fear into those who dare to defy his authority were looked upon with
dismay. The Paladins had taken over the Iron Halls, the symbol of authority
was grown soft under their rule of mercy and reason, at least that's how it
seemed to Mazush. He took no pleasure in serving those whom he would find
unworthy, but kept firmly at it, as it was the Master's bidding.
Time passed, Mazush served well, his rule over Serin's towns was undisputed,
he had won all the battles against those who dared to test his prowess. But
something was amiss, they did not Obey. Why did they not Obey? The spectre
never understood it before he realized that in an order to create an
Obedient world for his Master he would have to result to different actions
than of those approved by the Paladin-Commanders. He would have to forge
his own Law, form his own rules and re-distribute the power in order to
finally succeed and deliver Serin to Lord Rodyn for once and for all. But
the other Gods were not keen to let one creature destroy the structure that
they have worked so hard to create and preserve. Rodyn's rivals and enemies
rose up against his minion spectre and decided that it is time to end this
Mazush woke up in a cold hallway, unsure how many hours were amiss from his
last patrol, but with an aching feeling all over his body and a note beside
him, claiming that he has been relieved from his duty and that the Law does
not accept those who attempt to bend it (or improve, by his definition and
understanding). He had lost all his powers, he had been marked as an
Outlaw, unfit to serve nor follow the Paladin-Law no longer. He was not
disheartened however, he knew this day would come, and despite his
successes, he was not fit for the modern day Law, times had changed since
Master was in charge and the knowledge passed on was rather outdated.
Freedom - at last! The connection had been severed! Mazush was no longer a
slave to Masters bidding! He had reclaimed his own destiny, free to do as
he pleases, unbound by the chains and unhinged from the noose that
humiliated him into bowing to the weak. How did it happen? Nobody knows
exactly, but what we do know is that Mazush is furious, furious of all
existence on the mortal realm and his goal is finally his own - to destroy
all that oppose him as he unleashes Chaos and Destruction upon the Serin
plane as a revenge, or rather as a proof that he indeed was fit to rule the
(obedient) mortal realm!
Light seems to bend and falter around the darkened form of this spectral
creature, as if it is repelled by its very essence. The intensely tangible
leathery, and metallic scent of death permeates from its opalescent skin.
Various symbols of power cover it, markings and sigils glowing a crimson red
from within its body. They pulse from within, as dark eldritch power
courses through its phantasmal frame. Pitch-black hair is fixed tightly
behind its head, bound with straps of scorched leather and twists of carved
iron. Tied around its neck is a length of rope with a darkened iron clasp
on the end of it. It looks surprisingly like a leash, ripped from the cord.
The deep opaqueness of its eyes seem to create a weird, uneasy feeling.
A nervous fluttering of the heart, of something which should not be.