Volgath of House Karth'Dron

Fourth level Deathmistress
Player: Phillip Webb
Player Information
Alignment- Lawful Evil
Strength- Average
Dexterity- Exceptional
Constitution- Average
Intelligence- Very high
Wisdom- Average
Charisma- High

DESCRIPTION:
Volgath KarthDron of the House KarthDron- her physical description could best be described as a nightmare. Many years of ritualistic scarring, a sign of her Devotion to Kiaransalee as Deathmistress of the House KarthDron have reduced the left side of her face to hideous facial disfigurement, turning the once beautiful drow child into a creature of horror. The thick scarring on the left side- her face and down to her neck and chest, symbols of necromantic power and devotion to the Dread Queen Kiaransalee. Her head is shaved bald and also severely scarred; her eyes a deep crimson, the left one so deeply cast into the dark socket, it casts a feral glare. She is not a pretty sight and inspires fear into the very souls of her foes. When angered, the darkness of her left face at times seems to coalesce giving of waves of negative energy and appears to be seemingly attached to the fabric of the negative plane which her Mistress, Kiaransalee, resides. Also, her physique is far from that of the ideal drow female. Her sinuous muscles promise much strength, and she is tall for a drow of the Underdark, towering well above her kin. Most strikingly, she moves with the bewildering speed and the feline grace of a born killer. She is quick to anger and slow to forgive- beware.



BACKGROUND:
Matron Sinaeth of the House KarthDron signalled for quiet as her second daughter Shsieath moved into the last stages of labour. Lying prone on the black granite altar of Kiaransalee, deep within the Houses private chambers, Shsieath grunted in agony, beads of perspiration dripping from her brow. Sinaeth looked on at her daughter, an evil smile playing across her lips. The labour had indeed been difficult and who knows, it might even manage to kill the child; one less poisoned blade to be weary of, a life for a life, this birthing might work out even better than she had anticipated. She sensed a presence behind her, interrupting her thoughts. The creature glared at her, eyes illuminated by unholy light, obviously yearning to tear her throat out at any second, but bound by a greater power to serve the Matron of the 5th House. Sinaeth addressed the creature curtly, What do you require, Wakboth? Why do you disturb me now? Silent for a moment, the creature towering several feet above the other onlookers, concentrated on the leader of the 5th House, using its mind to link directly with that of Sinaeth. *Know this, I feel the presence of she who must be obeyed here in this room. This child, when she is born, is destined for position within the House to lead it forward according to the word of Kiaransalee. As such, there must be appropriate sacrifice- I will act as a vessel. Bring the sacrifice in at the moment of birthing.*

Sinaeth crowed with delight at the creatures words, certain that her plan of several centuries would come into fruition. As the intensity of the moment builds, finally, with one last shove of superhuman strength, Matron Sinaeth finally pulled forth the latest addition to the House of KarthDron. Hail all of the House, behold, she who is fated by Kiaransalee to lead us to greater glories, Volgath KarthDron! Wakboth of the Nosferatu, once consort of Sinaeth of the 5th House several centuries ago, appraised the new-born, yearning to feast on its lifeblood but nonetheless held in check by its own will and the fear of Kiaransalee. In an impassioned voice, the creature addressed the rest of the onlookers. The girl is possessed of much promise by the will of Kiaransalee but what she gives, she must also take! Turning to the Matron of the House, he continued. Who is to be sacrificed? Sinaeth smiled a wicked grin. Well Wakboth, know the pleasure of the House of KarthDron for the gift we have received from unholy Kiaransalee. No other fitting sacrifice could be appropriate apart from one of equal standing. Take her mother, Shsieath as sacrifice!

A murmur rose from the crowd, although none dare not question the voice of the Matron, nevertheless, sacrificing her second daughter was indeed highly unusual as it would weaken the House, allowing for others to seize upon the opportunity. Wakboth looked deeply into the eyes of Sinaeth. Kiaransalee accepts your sacrifice! Then with a speed that defied logic, the giant Nosferatu, razor sharp fangs ripping though the delicate membranes surrounding its mouth, leapt upon the altar to take its prize. No longer restrained by its own will, or the will of Kiaransalee, the creature opened the yawning chasm of its mouth, taking the womens head in its vast, taloned hand. Either through fear or the energy drained from her in childbirth, Shsieath reamined silent. Well, daughter of mine, would you not kiss your father one last time in this life? Gently moving forward, his black lips only brushing against his daughters, Wakboth finally could restrain himself no longer. Suddenly the feeding frenzy was upon him- Bloodlust! Putting his large fingers into the inside of his daughters mouth, he pulled wide suddenly with phenominal strength, watching as the blood gushed forth from the hole that had once been a pretty mouth. Then, opening his mouth, he thrust the bloody head in, sucking on the divine juices and soft tissues, draining the woman of every last ounce of fluid. It was over in a matter of seconds; for Shsieath, it lasted an eternity...

The 5th House looked on as the second daughter, Shsieath KarthDron was slaughtered in front of their own eyes. It had become well known that the second daughter had plotted recently to overthrow the Matron , too well known. Sinaeth had only waited until now to act because of the child. Still, it was only fitting that she should have been sacrificed to atone for her own sins... Plotting against the Matron of any House was punishable by death, that is, unless you got away with it. Sinaeth watched with morbid fascination as the entrails of her second daughter twitched spasmodically in the brazier. The Lord Wakboth had salvaged just enough of Shsieath from his feast at the altar to perform the necromancy required to bring her back from the Halls of the Dead. Her tortured soul howled in agony as he inserted a small silver needle into the bloody pile. Please, let me go to Kiaransalee, I have finished my lot on the mortal plane! The Matron Mother gestured Wakboth to stop. Tell me again, Shsieath, who was involved in the plot? The spectre of her daughter appeared more distant, stubborn. The only thing keeping her from the afterlife was the small pile of viscera contained in the brazier. I have told you all Mother, the spectre spat. Now let me go! The Matron nodded slightly. I will, but just one more thing- your daughter Volgath as I have called her, will NOT enter the clergy! The spectre of her daughter looked aghast. Why not? That surely is her calling! The Matron shook her head slowly. No, I want her to also pay for your betrayal and yet she shows too much promise, even at this early age, for me to kill her outright. Besides, nodding towards the Undead Necromancer, her grandfather says she is blessed by Kiaransalee. The Matron Mother slowly walked around the brazier containing her daughters innards. So, as decreed by Unholy Kiaransalee, I have decided to re-instate the position of Deathmistress to the House of KarthDron. As you well know, the last to hold that position was my greatgrandmother several ages past. Since then, none has shown the ability, nor offended sufficiently, for it to become re-instated- she will learn both the baldeskills in the fighters college of Melee-Mingolith and the necromantic arts at the Tower of Zaktifar and from her grandfather. As such, not being a priestess, she will never have the favour of Kiaransalee that I hold but she will still be useful in moving the 5th House to greater glory in her role as protector and enforcer of the Faith. You may go now to your hell! So saying, the matron Mother ignited the still twitching entrails, inhaling deeply at the smell of burning flesh.

The crowd gathered at the Houses Holy Shrine, aware of the serious nature of the calling, but unaware of its exact reason. At the high altar sat Sinaeth, Matron of KarthDron, cradling a small child with the other priestess of the House. As the prayers to Kiaransalee began, many of the older drow looked up with a mixture of confusion and interest, noticing that the prayer pattern resembled that of a ritual which hadnt been pronounced for at least 10 generations. As the Ritual of Devotion reached its crescendo, Sinaeth leaned over to the Undead Lord who had once been her consort. Wakboth, get ready the unholy emblems of Kiaransalee; we will proceed with the Ritual of Scarring once I have proclaimed Volgath as the new Deathmistress of KarthDron. Turning to the congregation, the Matron Mother filled with unholy radiance addressed the most senior of her House. Know this, nobles of the House KarthDron, that today, an ancient tradition which has waned these many eons will now come to pass again. As Matron Mother, and by the edicts of Unholy Kiaransalee, I have the right to proclaim and invoke the station of Deathmistress of the House KarthDron! An astonished murmur arose form the crowd, several of the younger members turning around, unaware of the true significance of the edict. Know that this position is both boon and bane. A boon, for it marks out a special calling and duty to Kiaransalee, the City and the House of KarthDron; a bane, for it shows one who, though indiscretion, has fallen from the favour of Kiaransalee by offending the Matron Mother of a Noble House! Nodding towards Wakboth, Sinaeth waited from the huge Undead to bring forth the item held in waiting within the red-hot coals. Turning towards the crowd, Sinaeth again asked for their attention. I ask you all to pray with me for Kiaransalees unholy blessing in this!

So saying, the Matron Mother took the small item from the creatures hands- a delicate platinum mask fashioned in the exact likeness of the baby girls face, glowing white hot having been taken from the flaming brazier to the left of the priestess. Looking up at the image of Kiaransalee, Sinaeth implored her dread diety, Unholy Mother, bless this action with your might, let light be extinguished and darkness reign supreme! So saying the priestess, attended by her daughters, took the handle of the glowing mask, pushing it firmly on the left side of the beautiful newborns face. At the touch of the glowing white metal, the child screamed a deep darts of pain surged through her small body, the stench of burning flesh pervading the room. The other priestesses either side of the scene were deep in prayer, keeping the child alive long enough for the ritual to end, praying for her to endure the pain. Whether the child survived or not was now up to their diety. Finally, the Matron Mother removed the half/mask from the childs face- the burning had done severe damage but she would stay alive due to the magics of the ritual. There were sighs of relief. The left side of her face would now carry forever the necromantic runes of Kiaransalee showing her devotion to her goddess; also, it would severe as a warning to all not to cross the Matron Mother of the House KarthDron! Then taking out a small rune covered box, Sinaeth carefully flipped open the lid, reveals the blood red gore of a still beating heart. Holding the throbbing organ high in her left hand, Sinaeth finally completed the Ritual of Devotion. Behold all the still beating heart of Volgath KarthDrons treacherous mother. By consuming her flesh so will the Deathmistress of KarthDron take up both rapturous favour of Kiaransalee and accept her sins. The circle will be complete! So saying, the Matron Mother cut a small piece of the heart, quickly stuffing the bloody gore down her granddaughters throat, bathing her small scarred face in the viscous and coagulating fluids.

Sinaeth, drained from the exertions of her prayers, looked up as Wakboth approached, carrying another small bundle, tightly wrapped in black velvets. Her daughters were also lying prone at her side, the rigours of their prayers making them weak for the moment. Taking the bundle from the giants hands, she unfolded the cloth to reveal the Jwaherdi- the revered Deathclaws of the House KarthDron. Turning to the baby, still screaming from the intense agony of being burned alive, Sineath held up the left hand of the dread weapons to the silent congregation. Behold, I pass forward the legacy of my ancestor, revered Ashobel to her daughter, time removed, of the present, Volgath KarthDron, may you use the weapon of the Fourth House to protect our honour, improve our station and serve our Queen, unholy Kiaransalee!

****

Wakboth, Nosferatu of 6 centuries and once consort of Sineath, Matron of Karth'Dron looked serenely over the cities nightscape from the vantage of one of the highest rooms of the 5th House. To one without the powers of the Nosferatu or Underdark bred, the outside cavern would look bleak and faceless- a dark secret, its mysteries closed. Yet to those creatures of the night, the city was alive with the nuances and light produced by the radiant heat of living or in some cases, undead flesh. Wakboth cautiously inhaled, finally picking up the scent of one he'd been waiting for. A toothy smile crossed his undead lips, and there was a feeling of anticipation and yes, fear welling up in the pit of his stomach, two emotions he had not felt in many years of unlife. The coming encounter would indeed be interesting.

Quickly focusing his undead senses on the tiny figure climbing up the side of the House of Karth'Dron, Wakboth realised the distance was indeed misleading, for the creature that was so effortlessly moving up the sheer surface of the stalagmite would dwarf even his own massive size. As a baron of the Undead, Wakboth was a full 7' in height, far taller than any normal drow; the creature below would almost half as large again. Yet Wakboth felt that he had enough of an advantage to be cautiously optimistic as he drifted away from the chambers window into the recesses behind. He would have several further minutes in preparation before his nemesis would arrive.

Wakboth had ensured that the denizens of House Karth'Dron would not disturb this meeting, for to do so would surely entail that persons death. The creature he would be dealing with was deadly, far beyond what most of the live drow of the city could deal with, perhaps even beyond his own powers. The Matron Mother herself had given the order for the upper chambers to be cleared of the living. Undoubtedly Wakboth was high in Kiaransalee's favour, but this creature, so he'd found out, was not from the city nor anywhere even in 'relative' close proximity that he could gather. All that the mutilated body of the guard, captured the previous night, had told him was that 'HE' had been summoned from the depths of Kiaransalee's pit. Still, that had given Wakboth enough time to prepare for what he would face.

Wakboth looked down at the mutilated face of his great, great granddaughter Volgath. The child lay quietly, face-up showing both the visage of what would have been a beautiful Drow female on the right side, and the face of a hag, scarred and tortured beyond recognition on the left. The burns had begun to heal, showing thick scabs and red welts. Underneath, the Necromancer could distinctly make out the fine markings of Kiaransalees rings and the necromantic runes of power. The runes of vengeance and retribution were also plainly evident. The girls head showed no signs of hair, as her head had been clean-shaven, revealing the left side of her scalp which too showed the signs of ritual scarring. Taking the white hot poker which had been blazing quietly in the corner, the Undead creature placed the rod point down on a small blank area at the top of the girls skull. The final symbol of death was now etched forever on Volgaths skin, completing her Devotion to Kiaransalee, which had begun those few months previously at the Ritual of Devotion; in a few more months she would be ready to commence her formal training for her position of Deathmistress. Wakboth marvelled at how easily the young child bore the pain, indeed Sineath was correct in her assumption that Volgath would make an excellent killer.

Sensing that the assassin had arrived, Wakboth turned to the chamber entrance in time to see the creature enter. Indeed his perception on size had been correct, for the creature was surely more than 9' in height. Focusing in on what would appear to any observer a twin in likeness to himself, Wakboth addressed the intruder. So Thanak, my brother, you have finally arrived! The creature looked upon the smaller being without feeling, quickly surveying his surroundings. I've come for the soul of the girl. You know you don't stand a chance against me, Wakboth, but I hope you'll be foolish enough to try and stop me. Now either stand aside, or fight! Wakboth tutted at the impatience of his brother. This was a good sign, as it implied that Thanak might even be as nervous as himself. All in good time, brother mine, Wakboth hissed quietly. First tell me, who exactly is it who sent you and had the power to raise the undead spirit within you, that I had so painstaking destroyed these many centuries hence? Thanak himself began to chuckle, a deep grating noise from beyond the grave. Well now, Wakboth, that would be telling, would it not? I'll not divulge any information to you for use to throw 'accusations' at the Dark Shrine! Inhaling deeply, Thanak finally caught the sense of his prey. Ah, I see you have the child ready here for me to take. Thank you for being so... thoughtful. Suddenly, Thanak, once Lord of the Undead, launched his massive frame against that of his brother.

Waiting for this moment, Wakboth too launched himself to flight to intercept the deadly assassin. The two undead collided mid-air, huge talon-like hands raking the hard, undead flesh of their opponent. The first skirmish over, the two settled, several feet apart, waiting for opportunity to arise. Wakboth surveyed his brother intently- his brother had indeed been fearsome in unlife, a full fledged Lord of the Nosferatu, Thanak's immense physical strength and powers of necromancy had been truly awesome. In fact, at that time, Thanak had been on the verge of travelling the Dark Path. Such a shame then that he had been 'killed' during an 'accidental' encounter with a party of surface dwellers, lead by a mighty Holy Warrior of those accursed surface Gods. Thanak's unlife had been ended by the shinning holy sword wielded by the human, his body, ritualistically dismembered and burned. The human had learned the Lore of Nosferatu well. Although the Undead could regenerate many wounds considered fatal to live races, this ritualistic dismemberment and burning was something else. And that had been that, or so Wakboth thought. Whomever had resurrected Thanaks' spirit from Kiaransalees halls would have to be powerful indeed.

A lightning fast attack suddenly sent Wakboth reeling, the ferocity of the blow severely injuring him as he impacted with the hard walls of the chamber. Scurrying to his feet, Wakboth adopted a more defensive stance, waiting for his opportunity to arise. For some reason, the vicious wounds were not beginning to heal. There must be some magics that his brother was employing to stop his body from regenerating! Looking down upon Thanaks massive talons, Wakboth caught the glimpse of a resin staining those huge claws. Wakboth backed away from his brother, easing his way gently to stand in front of the cradle containing the child. Ah, my brother, the concoction you are using is forbidden here- it is illegal to use either silver or garlic against one of our kind- punishable by destruction! Thanak merely smiled, his ferral eyes flashing in the darkness. Someone will have to catch me first to accuse, and by that time, I will have been returned to Kiaransalees Halls- none may punish me there apart from the Dread Queen herself!

Wakboth could feel the poisons rapidly taking effect, sending shooting pains through his frame, the likes of which he had never experienced previously in unlife. He realised he was finished. But he would insure that Thanak would be taken down with him. As his brother edged closer, Wakboth waited for his opportunity. Still cautious, Thanak approached slowly. The poisons had worked well, as they had on his own form when he had been attacked and ripped apart by that accursed Holy Warrior and his band those many centuries ago. He'd known when he'd been ambushed that Wakboth, then still a mere fledgling Nosferatu, had set the trap. There was no way those surface dwellers should have been so deep within the Underdark at that time. Thanak still remembered vividly the searing pain inflicted by the humans white-hot blade. He'd still been 'conscious' as the group had decapitated him and dismembered his undead body, still suffering from the effects of the 'poison' he'd now used against his own brother. There was a pleasant irony that Wakboth would be racked with the same pains that he had suffered previously. That is, before Thanak ripped his undead spirit from his body to carry it, along with that of the child, to she who had summoned him from Kiaransalees pit.

Thanak approached closer yet, watching in morbid fascination as the black ichor from Wakboth's body bubbled as it oozed out from the gaping wounds he had inflicted. His own body to evidenced vicious cuts, yet he cared not- so long as he accomplished his tasks he would be rewarded back at Kiaransalee's Halls. His bloodlust was suddenly elevated as he sensed the presence of the living creature concealed behind the body of Wakboth. He could sense the young soul waiting to be consumed, but also a strange connection to a place that he sensed as familiar. He moved forward finally, aware that Wakboth was indeed spent.

It was only at the last moment that Thanak realised his mistake- as he moved forward to consume the lifeblood of the child and revel in the feast, the floor underneath exploded below him as Wakboth, with the merest vestiges of unlife rapidly draining from his body, activated the trap. As Thanak felt himself plummet, he felt the grasp of his brother embrace him within a death grip. 15' and falling... Knowing that any levitation or flying spell would not bear the weight of both their forms, Thanak, mind still reeling, concentrated his powers of metamorphosis, intent of taking the form of demon-bat. He felt his undead bones crack as the metamorphosis began taking effect... 60' and falling... Thanak felt a surge of relief as his vast membraneous wings, bat-like and some 12' across began to take shape. He growled with fury. He would fly back up to the top of the shaft, take the girl and kill as many from Karth'Dron as punishment for defying him! 100' and still falling& The weight of his brother was still too great. Realising that Wakboth's unlife had now been truly ended, he easily shook of his brothers great talons from around his now bat-like head. Interestingly, Thanak could now smell acrid vapours and sulphurous fumes of the acid vats still below him. 200'& Metamorphosis finally completed, Thanak streatched his vast wings, trying to steady his falling and regain control. Suddenly, feeling an intense moment of pain, Thanak turned his huge bat-shaped head to see many silver-tipped darts piercing his large, fur-covered body. The razor-sharp shards easily ripped through his fine membraneous wings, cracking several wing bones, piercing his body, and sending him plummeting once again to the acid vats below. His last thoughts were dark indeed as he dropped the last 50 or so feet', plunging deep within the acid pool. He was sure that she who had summoned him would not be pleased at his failure......

****

The Beholder Kroel finished looking deeply into the scrying device, as Thanak's destruction finally terminated the contact. The encounter had indeed been interesting for several reasons. Firstly, it had eliminated one of V'elddrinnsshar's more powerful denizens in Wakboth of the Undead. With him out of the way, it would take several decades before the 5th House would be in any position to improve its station, despite the machinations of its Matron Mother, and that too would depend on the uncertain development of its newest protégé, the child Volgath Karth'Dron. Secondly, Kroel was pleased with the summoning spell he had 'discovered' to raise the Undead Lord, Thanak, from the halls of Kiaransalee. Although the Undead Lord was literally only a 'shadow' of his former self, he had been more than a match for Wakboth. It would have been interesting to see what would have happened if Thanak had indeed walked the Dark Path - Kroel was fairly certain that there would have been a different arch-mage sat in the wizards tower to the present encumbent. He had done this with the 'implied' consent of Darnine, Matron of Andar-ros, although nothing could ever link her to this fact, though Kroel was aware that her eldest daughter, Kless, Highpriestess of Arach-Tlabbar, had been sniffing around for information as of late. That would be an issue he would have to keep tabs on. Darnine was losing power, and it might come to pass that Andar-ros needed a new ruler. But for now, he was content to observe, voyeur-like with his many eyes, the theatre of events that made up the City of V'elddrinnsshar.