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== '''The Defiler''' == |
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{{characterprofile |
{{characterprofile |
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|name=Vardok Maledict |
|name=Vardok Maledict |
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|instance= Prime |
|instance= Prime |
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|town= Solhaven |
|town= Solhaven |
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}}You see Lord Vardok Maledict the Defiler. |
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}} |
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He appears to be a Burghal Gnome. |
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He is diminutive and has a toned, wiry figure. He appears to be very young. He has pupilless ethereal blue eyes and fair skin. He has shoulder length, curly brown hair drawn back into a messy ponytail tied with a smoke-colored silk ribbon. He has an unshaven face, a broken nose and frown lines. |
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Loud, boisterous, mildly unhinged and all together crazy-eyed and possibly feral. Vardok is obviously crazy, ranting and raving like a lunatic for much of his existence; and yet, there are moments of lucidity, sophistication and refinement akin to any noble or gentleman. Few can predict which version of Vardok they will encounter, nor when he may vacillate between the two. Even fewer know what lead him to be the man he is today, the self-styled "Defiler", self-proclaimed supremely evil one, who will one day burn down the world and perish alone, laughing amongst the ashes. |
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== '''Backstory''' == |
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Vardok Maledict was a self-chosen name, a deliberate severing of the last vestiges of memory to his early life. Believe it or not, the Tiny Terror was born Varney Roundbottom. He grew up with his twin sister in a small gnomish village, cared for and loved by his mother the town herbalist. From a very early age he was attached to his mother at the hip, finding her work fascinating as well as enjoying all of the new people he got to meet that came to their small clinic. Every new face brought Varney such joy, each person a new friend to try and learn about. As a child he knew no fear of strangers, always eager to meet anyone he could. |
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Most of his early years passed in a happy blur between time spent helping his mother with herbs, studying to be a healer, and play with his twin sister. Life was good. He had even started to find a bit of a father figure in the town mayor who would often visit, always with an excuse about this ailment or that; any excuse to see the local herbalist and her children. Things were good, until they weren't. One day, the mayor became ill with an unknown sickness prompting his mother to be summoned to treat him, bringing Varney with her to watch and learn as he often did. |
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Poison; That was the diagnosis Varney's mother arrived upon, yet before she could speak the Mayor's wife who had been running things since he fell ill stormed into the room flanked by guards, shouting accusations and blaming his mother for poisoning the mayor. For the Mayor's wife had uncovered a secret; a years long affair between the Mayor and the Herbalist, of which two twin children were born. Varney's mother fled, grabbing her son and retrieving her daughter, the guards close behind. They managed to evade arrest, but only just. All of their belongings had to be left behind in their flight, leading to many lean years to come. |
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The search for a new home saw many months of travel, scrounging to survive many hardships that befell the small family. Ultimately they would find residence at a small giantman village that took them in, providing a small hut on the outskirts of town in exchange for knowledge of herbalism and healing. By now, Varney's sister had awakened to her empathic talents, becoming a strong healer. As her power grew, things began to once again settle into routine; Varney would help his mother with herbs and mundane healing, while his sister would treat what injuries she could with magic. Slowly over time the village warmed up to the outsiders, and began to treat the gnomes well, things here once more good. Until they weren't. |
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One day there was a small child, killed in the market square by a tragic cart accident. Varney's sister struggled to heal the tiny broken body, pouring as much magic as she could...but some things cannot be healed. There was no cleric in the village, no one to try other means to bring the child back. His sister wept, even as she kept trying, more and more magic channeled into the child in a desperate attempt to help. Varney could not bare to see her in such a state. He fervently wished to help, and in that moment of desperation his own magical talents awakened. However, his were not the magics of healing. His was a darker strand, an innate resonance with the necromantic arts. As his first sparks of power joined with his sisters, unbeknownst to Varney, the child stirred, raising up as a mindless undead, a horrific abomination, it's broken body trying feebly to raise to it's feet. The crowd was horrified, blaming Varney's sister, calling her a witch, shouting about the evil accursed gnome. Horrified, the twins ran, heading back to their small hut to find solace in the comfort of their mother, not understanding what had happened. |
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Rumors spread, misfortunes that befell the villagers were now blamed upon the witch, the evil gnome healer that had brought such suffering upon the village. Varney, would not have it; the very thought of his sister being labeled a witch, the terror in her eyes when stones would be thrown through the windows late at night lit a fire within the young gnome. He vowed that he would show everyone what true evil was. That he would become such a foul, despicable monster that all eyes would be drawn to him, away from his sister. He would be the evil they all saw in her, to shield her from their wrath. He began his reign of "terror" with petty vandalism, jumping out from behind things to frighten old women, throwing eggs at people, and other such silly childish things. For there was no evil in the boy's heart. Still, he did his best, striving to draw attention away from his sister. |
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Then, one night it all changed; a sickness had taken root in the town, one beyond the capabilities of their mother to treat even for what few customers still trusted the gnomes. It was not long before the blame was heaped upon Varney's sister. It was not long, before torches in the night; a crowd surrounding the hut, demanding the witch be brought out to pay for her crimes. It was not long, before one of the villagers threw a torch that shattered the window. Panic and fear took over Varney, a spark of his magic taking hold of the flame and growing it into a smoldering inferno, the hut and his family catching fire and burning rapidly. The townsfolk dispersed, unnerved by the rapidity of the blaze, but secure in the knowledge that the witch was dead, the gnomes gone, hopeful that the plague would soon abate. But the story did not end here. Varney stood alone, as the hut burned down around him, safe in the center of the maelstrom; for the flames were his. It was long into the night before the funeral pyre went out and a small gnome emerged from the ashes; the boy known as Varney was dead. There was only Vardok now. |
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His mind had already begun to fracture, unable to bear the grief and horror of watching his family burn while he remained untouched. He now called himself Maledict. Accursed. Vardok the Defiler, sworn to bring ruin and misery upon all those who stole his family from him. Like a specter smeared in ash he descended upon the quiet town deep in the night. He first stopped at the town blacksmith where he pilfered a hammer and all of the heavy iron nails he could carry. To each home he crept, spending hours with his hammer wrapped in cloth to muffle the sound, driving heavy iron nails into the door jams, a quiet, gentle tapping that lasted into the twilight hours of near morning. Once the nails were in place he gathered a torch and went from house to house, his magic instinctively causing the flames to grow and spread, a maelstrom of energy swirling around, preternaturally quick to spread and ravenous to consume. The whole town, burned. There was nothing left, neither of the village nor of the boy's mind. |
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Finally, he wept, cursing his name and calling out to any god that might hear him, begging for all of it to go away. Begging for an end. By chance, one of them heard him. Perhaps they were drawn to the waking nightmare Vardok had created, who can say? The boy made a pact, a bargain with the jackal. To forget all of his pain, in exchange for a lifetime of service to Sheru. The last vestiges of the boy's mind shattered, his mind now a plaything for the god of Nightmares and Insanity. Bits and pieces remained, the desire to be seen as evil, the urge to draw all eyes to his atrocities and malevolence, even as he forgot the reasons why; forgot even the very twin sister he had longed to shield and protect. There was only Vardok Maledict, now. Accursed defiler, supreme evil. The kind-hearted soul trapped forever in the mind of a madman. The nightmare persisted, whether his eyes were open or closed, awake or asleep. This is how the story ended for a time... at least, until many years later he would meet someone who began to draw him out of that endless nightmare, slowly trying to piece together the man he once was. But that is a tale for another time. |
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~The End, for now~ |
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Latest revision as of 23:54, 12 October 2024
The Defiler
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You see Lord Vardok Maledict the Defiler.
He appears to be a Burghal Gnome.
He is diminutive and has a toned, wiry figure. He appears to be very young. He has pupilless ethereal blue eyes and fair skin. He has shoulder length, curly brown hair drawn back into a messy ponytail tied with a smoke-colored silk ribbon. He has an unshaven face, a broken nose and frown lines.
Loud, boisterous, mildly unhinged and all together crazy-eyed and possibly feral. Vardok is obviously crazy, ranting and raving like a lunatic for much of his existence; and yet, there are moments of lucidity, sophistication and refinement akin to any noble or gentleman. Few can predict which version of Vardok they will encounter, nor when he may vacillate between the two. Even fewer know what lead him to be the man he is today, the self-styled "Defiler", self-proclaimed supremely evil one, who will one day burn down the world and perish alone, laughing amongst the ashes.
Backstory
Vardok Maledict was a self-chosen name, a deliberate severing of the last vestiges of memory to his early life. Believe it or not, the Tiny Terror was born Varney Roundbottom. He grew up with his twin sister in a small gnomish village, cared for and loved by his mother the town herbalist. From a very early age he was attached to his mother at the hip, finding her work fascinating as well as enjoying all of the new people he got to meet that came to their small clinic. Every new face brought Varney such joy, each person a new friend to try and learn about. As a child he knew no fear of strangers, always eager to meet anyone he could.
Most of his early years passed in a happy blur between time spent helping his mother with herbs, studying to be a healer, and play with his twin sister. Life was good. He had even started to find a bit of a father figure in the town mayor who would often visit, always with an excuse about this ailment or that; any excuse to see the local herbalist and her children. Things were good, until they weren't. One day, the mayor became ill with an unknown sickness prompting his mother to be summoned to treat him, bringing Varney with her to watch and learn as he often did.
Poison; That was the diagnosis Varney's mother arrived upon, yet before she could speak the Mayor's wife who had been running things since he fell ill stormed into the room flanked by guards, shouting accusations and blaming his mother for poisoning the mayor. For the Mayor's wife had uncovered a secret; a years long affair between the Mayor and the Herbalist, of which two twin children were born. Varney's mother fled, grabbing her son and retrieving her daughter, the guards close behind. They managed to evade arrest, but only just. All of their belongings had to be left behind in their flight, leading to many lean years to come.
The search for a new home saw many months of travel, scrounging to survive many hardships that befell the small family. Ultimately they would find residence at a small giantman village that took them in, providing a small hut on the outskirts of town in exchange for knowledge of herbalism and healing. By now, Varney's sister had awakened to her empathic talents, becoming a strong healer. As her power grew, things began to once again settle into routine; Varney would help his mother with herbs and mundane healing, while his sister would treat what injuries she could with magic. Slowly over time the village warmed up to the outsiders, and began to treat the gnomes well, things here once more good. Until they weren't.
One day there was a small child, killed in the market square by a tragic cart accident. Varney's sister struggled to heal the tiny broken body, pouring as much magic as she could...but some things cannot be healed. There was no cleric in the village, no one to try other means to bring the child back. His sister wept, even as she kept trying, more and more magic channeled into the child in a desperate attempt to help. Varney could not bare to see her in such a state. He fervently wished to help, and in that moment of desperation his own magical talents awakened. However, his were not the magics of healing. His was a darker strand, an innate resonance with the necromantic arts. As his first sparks of power joined with his sisters, unbeknownst to Varney, the child stirred, raising up as a mindless undead, a horrific abomination, it's broken body trying feebly to raise to it's feet. The crowd was horrified, blaming Varney's sister, calling her a witch, shouting about the evil accursed gnome. Horrified, the twins ran, heading back to their small hut to find solace in the comfort of their mother, not understanding what had happened.
Rumors spread, misfortunes that befell the villagers were now blamed upon the witch, the evil gnome healer that had brought such suffering upon the village. Varney, would not have it; the very thought of his sister being labeled a witch, the terror in her eyes when stones would be thrown through the windows late at night lit a fire within the young gnome. He vowed that he would show everyone what true evil was. That he would become such a foul, despicable monster that all eyes would be drawn to him, away from his sister. He would be the evil they all saw in her, to shield her from their wrath. He began his reign of "terror" with petty vandalism, jumping out from behind things to frighten old women, throwing eggs at people, and other such silly childish things. For there was no evil in the boy's heart. Still, he did his best, striving to draw attention away from his sister.
Then, one night it all changed; a sickness had taken root in the town, one beyond the capabilities of their mother to treat even for what few customers still trusted the gnomes. It was not long before the blame was heaped upon Varney's sister. It was not long, before torches in the night; a crowd surrounding the hut, demanding the witch be brought out to pay for her crimes. It was not long, before one of the villagers threw a torch that shattered the window. Panic and fear took over Varney, a spark of his magic taking hold of the flame and growing it into a smoldering inferno, the hut and his family catching fire and burning rapidly. The townsfolk dispersed, unnerved by the rapidity of the blaze, but secure in the knowledge that the witch was dead, the gnomes gone, hopeful that the plague would soon abate. But the story did not end here. Varney stood alone, as the hut burned down around him, safe in the center of the maelstrom; for the flames were his. It was long into the night before the funeral pyre went out and a small gnome emerged from the ashes; the boy known as Varney was dead. There was only Vardok now.
His mind had already begun to fracture, unable to bear the grief and horror of watching his family burn while he remained untouched. He now called himself Maledict. Accursed. Vardok the Defiler, sworn to bring ruin and misery upon all those who stole his family from him. Like a specter smeared in ash he descended upon the quiet town deep in the night. He first stopped at the town blacksmith where he pilfered a hammer and all of the heavy iron nails he could carry. To each home he crept, spending hours with his hammer wrapped in cloth to muffle the sound, driving heavy iron nails into the door jams, a quiet, gentle tapping that lasted into the twilight hours of near morning. Once the nails were in place he gathered a torch and went from house to house, his magic instinctively causing the flames to grow and spread, a maelstrom of energy swirling around, preternaturally quick to spread and ravenous to consume. The whole town, burned. There was nothing left, neither of the village nor of the boy's mind.
Finally, he wept, cursing his name and calling out to any god that might hear him, begging for all of it to go away. Begging for an end. By chance, one of them heard him. Perhaps they were drawn to the waking nightmare Vardok had created, who can say? The boy made a pact, a bargain with the jackal. To forget all of his pain, in exchange for a lifetime of service to Sheru. The last vestiges of the boy's mind shattered, his mind now a plaything for the god of Nightmares and Insanity. Bits and pieces remained, the desire to be seen as evil, the urge to draw all eyes to his atrocities and malevolence, even as he forgot the reasons why; forgot even the very twin sister he had longed to shield and protect. There was only Vardok Maledict, now. Accursed defiler, supreme evil. The kind-hearted soul trapped forever in the mind of a madman. The nightmare persisted, whether his eyes were open or closed, awake or asleep. This is how the story ended for a time... at least, until many years later he would meet someone who began to draw him out of that endless nightmare, slowly trying to piece together the man he once was. But that is a tale for another time.
~The End, for now~