Feedback on backstory, lv1 Soulknife Samael [Archive] - Wizards Community

Feedback on backstory, lv1 Soulknife Samael [Archive] - Wizards Community

Post/Author/DateTime Post
Jere_RB
12-31-07, 12:08 PM Samael, Angel of Death

Sam

On the first day, all I knew was cold.

I heard the story later. It sounds so plain to me now. My mother had been cast out of the village, nothing to her name and barely the clothes on her back and heavy with child. I never heard the whys of it. Over the roads, through the woods she went, scorned of pity, stripped of mercy. I never heard the whys of it. Her pains came hard, they came strong. Laid down by the forest's edge, she screamed and heaved. First a miracle, then a tragedy. I came, then he did. The beast was on her, and my mother was gone. It turned to me, but fate intervened. Swordsmen and spell-slingers had been passing the road, had heard her cries. The too her vengeance for her. They took me as well. Raised me, trained me, made me strong, made me swift. They told me the story time and time again. Told me to be grateful. Told me to be just. Said to me, "Due to it, you give it. You live because of mercy. As such, you must spend your life to give mercy." I always showed compliance, nodded my head, pumped my fists that much harder, moved that much quicker. It gave the effect I wanted.

They don't know, though. I didn't have to be told the story. I already knew. I remembered.

Cold. So cold was my birth. A mother's warmth, a beating heart to follow, these were denied me from the beginning. The beast had already come before me. It's work was finished before I began. It stripped the life from her and her from me before I had even seen a sunrise. No heat of birth flowed to me, but the chill of the end instead. The creature's mist bled into her wounds, and from there down to me. His sick ichor mixed and mingled with mine, twisting me, changing me, sucking something of the living from my soul. Somewhere in my brain, I had been violated, and I knew. My newborn screams were not of fear or pain, but of anger, of hatred. My eyes opened at the start. I saw my "father", the only one I'd know.

Bones and mist. Two red pin-pricks in a seeping fog. Bigger than me, but not much bigger than mother. Flesh of mist, bones of canine, eyes that promised malevolence, jaws that delivered pain...

This was the thing that felled my mother. This was the thing that changed me.

I lay on her thighs. It hunched over her head. Closer to me it came. I saw more of it, but less. No insides, no muscle. A set of bones enclosed in mist. I felt the heat leaving me, flowing like a river. As to my mother, it intended to do to me. I did not turn. I looked on, unknowing but knowing. Inside my infantile brain, I knew this was evil. I knew not to turn away.

Then they came. The blades. One from on high, unseen and unnoticed. A shimmering shaft of steel, sharp and true, cleaved the monster's head. It turned to face them, to score another meal for the day. That day was it's last.

Afterwards, they picked me up. They took me in. Time passed. They tried to teach me, tried to name me. Their lessons I took, their names I did not. Five years old, and my brain rejected every name they could conjur up. Tom, Michael, Bjorn, Halstaff. They tried and tried. Nothing would do.

They took me to church. I looked up. A choir of angels in stained glass looked down on us in our supplication. One stood out. Sword high, body in mist, eyes of glowing red...

I asked. I was told. "Samael." I pointed to me. "Samael." Nothing else would do.

And here we are. The changes the beast wrought have born their fruit. A creature of shade, as it was, I am, but still human. I run through the city streets, dodging to and fro, up the walls and down again, hopping from roof-top to roof-top. My surrogates have raised me well, made me fast, made me strong. I use my talents for their guild, earning them coin and spreading their word. 'Tis a good life. Hard, but rewarding. Rough, but honest. I can live with this. At the best of times, I pretend I am normal, that all is right.

Then I sleep. They come. Shades and horrors, figments and nightmares. They reach and tear, trying to drag me in, suck me down to their pit. The reach out from oblivion to claim their prize, to snare the babe they lost so long ago.

The blade falls. The pit is split. A shaft of shimmer falls from the heavens. The demons fade. The light returns. The dream ends just as I feel my mother's warmth again.

They told me mercy saved me. I cannot agree. Mercy did not fall from the heavens, did not split the beast. 'Twas shimmering steel, a shaft of force. 'Twas justice that put me here, that drew my saviors, that split the animal in twain. Mercy would have kept my mother home, would have kept clothes on her back, a roof over her head. No, no mercy to me, no. But justice, yes. So I say to me, "Due to it, I give it. I live because of justice. As such, I will spend my life to render justice. As the chill to me, I will be to it. I reject the evil in my veins, the darness in my heart. A light in the night I will be, a shaft of truth to light the way to heaven for those in the night."

As the blade that saved me, a blade I became. I made my own. It is small now, modest. But I can fix that. I can make it grow. The evil that tried to claim me, twist me, subvert my soul, it will not win. As I faced it as a child, I fight it as a man. The shadows of the world will not claim us. The light shall save us.

I am Samael. Death to the chill. Hope to the light.
Terjon of the Blue Rose
01-02-08, 11:23 PM :clap:
Omnirahk, half-Rahkshi
01-03-08, 09:32 AM Great work. I think Terjon said it all. Btw, I'm not sure what creature killed his mom. Some sort of undead. A shade? Wraith? Lich? What?
Jere_RB
01-03-08, 09:42 AM I was thinking "thought eater" out of expanded psionics. Then I looked back at the picture and noticed it wasn't canine at all. The misty flesh and red pin-prick eyes really grabbed me, though. Made me think the creature was just bleeding everywhere the instant it came to the prime. That's the prefect way to justify it "infecting" young Sam.

Long answer short: guess it's an accidental homebrew. Thought eater, dog skeleton, and some plane of shade mixed in. You know, might want to actually make stats for the thing.

*edit*

Random shadow-freak will suffice. Worg skeleton w/the shadow creature template oughta work, advanced as needed.

Post/Author/DateTime	Post
Jere_RB 12-31-07, 12:08 PM	Samael, Angel of Death Sam On the first day, all I knew was cold. I heard the story later. It sounds so plain to me now. My mother had been cast out of the village, nothing to her name and barely the clothes on her back and heavy with child. I never heard the whys of it. Over the roads, through the woods she went, scorned of pity, stripped of mercy. I never heard the whys of it. Her pains came hard, they came strong. Laid down by the forest's edge, she screamed and heaved. First a miracle, then a tragedy. I came, then he did. The beast was on her, and my mother was gone. It turned to me, but fate intervened. Swordsmen and spell-slingers had been passing the road, had heard her cries. The too her vengeance for her. They took me as well. Raised me, trained me, made me strong, made me swift. They told me the story time and time again. Told me to be grateful. Told me to be just. Said to me, "Due to it, you give it. You live because of mercy. As such, you must spend your life to give mercy." I always showed compliance, nodded my head, pumped my fists that much harder, moved that much quicker. It gave the effect I wanted. They don't know, though. I didn't have to be told the story. I already knew. I remembered. Cold. So cold was my birth. A mother's warmth, a beating heart to follow, these were denied me from the beginning. The beast had already come before me. It's work was finished before I began. It stripped the life from her and her from me before I had even seen a sunrise. No heat of birth flowed to me, but the chill of the end instead. The creature's mist bled into her wounds, and from there down to me. His sick ichor mixed and mingled with mine, twisting me, changing me, sucking something of the living from my soul. Somewhere in my brain, I had been violated, and I knew. My newborn screams were not of fear or pain, but of anger, of hatred. My eyes opened at the start. I saw my "father", the only one I'd know. Bones and mist. Two red pin-pricks in a seeping fog. Bigger than me, but not much bigger than mother. Flesh of mist, bones of canine, eyes that promised malevolence, jaws that delivered pain... This was the thing that felled my mother. This was the thing that changed me. I lay on her thighs. It hunched over her head. Closer to me it came. I saw more of it, but less. No insides, no muscle. A set of bones enclosed in mist. I felt the heat leaving me, flowing like a river. As to my mother, it intended to do to me. I did not turn. I looked on, unknowing but knowing. Inside my infantile brain, I knew this was evil. I knew not to turn away. Then they came. The blades. One from on high, unseen and unnoticed. A shimmering shaft of steel, sharp and true, cleaved the monster's head. It turned to face them, to score another meal for the day. That day was it's last. Afterwards, they picked me up. They took me in. Time passed. They tried to teach me, tried to name me. Their lessons I took, their names I did not. Five years old, and my brain rejected every name they could conjur up. Tom, Michael, Bjorn, Halstaff. They tried and tried. Nothing would do. They took me to church. I looked up. A choir of angels in stained glass looked down on us in our supplication. One stood out. Sword high, body in mist, eyes of glowing red... I asked. I was told. "Samael." I pointed to me. "Samael." Nothing else would do. And here we are. The changes the beast wrought have born their fruit. A creature of shade, as it was, I am, but still human. I run through the city streets, dodging to and fro, up the walls and down again, hopping from roof-top to roof-top. My surrogates have raised me well, made me fast, made me strong. I use my talents for their guild, earning them coin and spreading their word. 'Tis a good life. Hard, but rewarding. Rough, but honest. I can live with this. At the best of times, I pretend I am normal, that all is right. Then I sleep. They come. Shades and horrors, figments and nightmares. They reach and tear, trying to drag me in, suck me down to their pit. The reach out from oblivion to claim their prize, to snare the babe they lost so long ago. The blade falls. The pit is split. A shaft of shimmer falls from the heavens. The demons fade. The light returns. The dream ends just as I feel my mother's warmth again. They told me mercy saved me. I cannot agree. Mercy did not fall from the heavens, did not split the beast. 'Twas shimmering steel, a shaft of force. 'Twas justice that put me here, that drew my saviors, that split the animal in twain. Mercy would have kept my mother home, would have kept clothes on her back, a roof over her head. No, no mercy to me, no. But justice, yes. So I say to me, "Due to it, I give it. I live because of justice. As such, I will spend my life to render justice. As the chill to me, I will be to it. I reject the evil in my veins, the darness in my heart. A light in the night I will be, a shaft of truth to light the way to heaven for those in the night." As the blade that saved me, a blade I became. I made my own. It is small now, modest. But I can fix that. I can make it grow. The evil that tried to claim me, twist me, subvert my soul, it will not win. As I faced it as a child, I fight it as a man. The shadows of the world will not claim us. The light shall save us. I am Samael. Death to the chill. Hope to the light.
Terjon of the Blue Rose 01-02-08, 11:23 PM	:clap:
Omnirahk, half-Rahkshi 01-03-08, 09:32 AM	Great work. I think Terjon said it all. Btw, I'm not sure what creature killed his mom. Some sort of undead. A shade? Wraith? Lich? What?
Jere_RB 01-03-08, 09:42 AM	I was thinking "thought eater" out of expanded psionics. Then I looked back at the picture and noticed it wasn't canine at all. The misty flesh and red pin-prick eyes really grabbed me, though. Made me think the creature was just bleeding everywhere the instant it came to the prime. That's the prefect way to justify it "infecting" young Sam. Long answer short: guess it's an accidental homebrew. Thought eater, dog skeleton, and some plane of shade mixed in. You know, might want to actually make stats for the thing. edit Random shadow-freak will suffice. Worg skeleton w/the shadow creature template oughta work, advanced as needed.