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Votan Zotol

Spiller: Jeppe Thisted

Fødselsdag: d. 01 Juni 6038 (Naal, Lankanôk - Emer)

Race/Nationalitet: Emerian

Profession: Sorceror

Karakter info

Herunder findes uddrag af Votans liv og levned.

Enchanted Quality

The demon dashed through the darkness hissing audibly from the exertion. It knew that its time was drawing closer but it would not make it easy for the pursuers to end the time it had left in this realm of existence. It had been too much fun to bend the mortals to its will and it would find a way to keep its sway over them. Crashing through a door in a small building on the edge of town, darkness swirling in the air around it, it came upon a sleeping farmer’s son. The farmer’s son was not awoken by the loud noise. The sorcerous power emanating from the beast lay thick in the air preventing any sense from working. The spell of the wicked cleric pursuers was starting to take effect and the beast was slowly fading from this realm. In the darkness of the small, enclosed room a hissing chanting arose from the beast and a ray of darkness deeper than the deepest night emanating from the foul creature struck the farmer’s son. Laughing the demon slowly faded until it was gone completely and the farmer’s son awoke as from a nightmare sweating and wondering what had happened to the door to his room and how he by will had conjured the light now shining in his palm. Votan Zotol was more than a bit confused.

Flight from Emer

The Cleric of the church of Death and Rebirth stood in the entrance to the tavern. All patrons had fallen silent and sat starring blankly into their beverages. “I seek the one called Votan Zotol”, the cleric proclaimed. “He is charged with heresy and consorting with powers not sanctioned by the church – You will surrender his whereabouts or your crops will not be blessed this season”. A low mumbling in the corner caught the clerics attention. He strode over to the corner table while casting a minor dweomer to make him appear more powerful. His gaze went over the four peasants at the table, eying out the weakest of will. “You”, he said pointing to the man, “will tell me where he is or your life is forfeit”, while slowly drawing his blade. The peasant, shaking noticeably, replied: “I do not know where he is now – He left this morning saying he was going north to a place of riches and adventures”. The peasant now gaining a bit more confidence as the cleric started away form the table added: “If you catch him tell him I want my horse back”.

The Dark Arts

The lab had countless of different smelling alchemical and magical ingredients blending into an almost sickening alkaline taste when breathing. The old fool had obviously not cared to circulate air. Votan would never call him a fool to his face and almost did not dare to think it. He knew that the shrivelled old body held more power and wisdom than he could imagine. It was lucky that Votan had found refuge here after his escape from the Laan inquisition. Votan could not figure how the old man had survived for so long amongst the Laan. Votan had learned much in the few months he had studied here. He took another step forward towards the old man at the large desk. Votan was glad when the old man did not look up at him. Votan never liked looking at the sickly face of the old man. “Master”, he said, “the arrangements for my departure are complete”. The old man while continuing to write opened a drawer. He produced a small brown leathery purse, “In the darkness light will not avail you – true power does not come without cost”, the old man paused and stopped writing – only for a moment, “Take the item - you will know when it is time for you to fulfil your destiny – now go”. Votan took the purse and left quickly. The old man at the desk stopped writing again, looking up as the door closed behind the poor apprentice and a smile slowly forming on his decaying face.

From Emer with Purpose

The sea was upset and it was uneasy sailing for the small merchantman. In the silent night the ship ploughed the dark waves of the Forbidden Sea. Nothing was heard except for the creaking ropes and the sound of the ships bell clanking softly from time to time. Almost unnoticeable a low guttural murmur arose from the belly of the ship. In a small enclosed cabin a shape of a person clad in a hooded cape sat in a meditative position, eyes closed as if he was sleeping. His lips were mouthing words as if they moved of their own accord. The words could not be understood though for they were not of this realm. Suddenly Votan awoke, he had been dreaming of the beast again, his clothes were drenched with sweat. What was it the beast had said? He could no longer remember but felt full of purpose. Tomorrow they would enter the Straits of Meluria. He had things to do.

Apprentice’s Failure

It was raining and small gusts of wind blew through the street. Even though it was only late afternoon the street was dark as the buildings leaned inwards seemingly about to tumble into the streets. The sun never came down into the streets at this time and normal people had started home. Soon the darker side of the city would show itself. Already shady characters had taken up spaces around the alleyways. The Inn down the street would soon resound with many drunken voices and women of ill repute would open their doors for business. The open sewer in the middle of the street could not hold the rainwater and sewage and was overflowing. Most of the sewage was being washed away though so the air in the street smelled slightly better than usual. The militia almost never came here and people were left to their own devices. This was the main street of Saral City. Votan had heard about this place and had changed from his magicians cloak into peasant clothing and a chain shirt. They would never suspect a man wearing metal armour if they were they least bit enlightened. Votan found the gateway exactly where the beast had told him it would be. He removed the covering with some difficulty while muttering curses under his breath. A foul smell emanated from the ancient sewer. The device had been hidden here in the ancient part of Saral City’s sewers, which were built centuries ago before the current city was constructed. Votan entered the small enclosed entranceway and muttered a minor incantation of light. Following the beast’s instructions he walked and crawled for several hours before he came to his destination. The chamber was dark and smelled off ancient decay. The dust lay inch thick all over obscuring the true form of everything in the chamber. Suddenly darkness grew choking the light from Votan’s incantation. Instinctively Votan started to initiate a more powerful dweomer of illumination but a sharp pain shot trough his temple. Suddenly remembering the words of his master he reached for the small leathery purse and opened it. Something started to spill from the pouch, emptiness seemed to engulf the floor and suddenly the darkness seemed penetrable and Votan could see again. A gateway had opened into a small chamber with a silver pedestal in the middle. A receptacle was placed on top of the pedestal but as Votan approached he realised it was broken. Someone had been here before

New Beginnings

He had followed the trail for many weeks before he lost it. Now he sat weary of travel at the table in the Packed Mule tavern. Whoever had taken the device was travelling to quickly and left almost no traces only the faint memories of paths taken in a dream had led him here - but now the trail had grown cold and the memories had faded. He had travelled southwards to the city state of Lethys before he had given up on his quest and had ended up here in this shady inn. The inn was a hotspot for adventurers, fortune seekers, thieves, con artists, mercenaries and their like. He had spent the last few days listening to their tales of great deeds done or great capers completed. Votan had failed in his primary purpose in life. Now, living from day to day never knowing what danger could lie behind the next turn in the road somehow sounded appealing. Votan had made his decision and rose from his chair and walked over to a table where a group of adventurers had taken seat. He presented himself and asked if he could join their party on their next adventure. Perhaps he could even get lucky and find a clue to the whereabouts of the device during the adventures he was about to embark on.

sw/pcs/votan_zotol.txt · Last modified: 2010/01/18 18:51 by