Nanarie and Vladdik... Part One
*The following is taken from my EQ guild's website, about the meeting of these two people, one of which is me, the Apokolipz...*
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After a long day of endless slaughtering, Nanarie was convinced her rage was not going to subside any more than it, only slightly, had. Kicking the scattered corpses, she looked to her minion and commanded it to look for whatever they had of value. By this time it was mid eve, she could hear her stomach growl in agonizing hunger. Irritated, she snatched the bag of loot her skeletal servant had gathered and looked through it.

"Blasted, foul creatures! Never have anything of use to me. I can only hope to get a few measly gold for this junk."

With a disgruntled sigh she tosses it over her shoulder to her minion. "Take it to that merchant and get what you can."

After a few minutes the frail skeleton returned with a pouch full of coins. Nanarie swipes the sack and pockets it.

She takes the cobblestone road toward the Great House. Taking note of the ornate, stone building on her left, she decides that her hunger needs to be abolished, and soon. She stops right before the entrance and gazes sternly at her companion. In an instant he crumbles to the ground, bone fragments scattered, and a soft echo is heard, "As you wish." She kicks the bones to the side and steps through the doors of The Butchered Halfling.

She stopped just inside the doorway and removed her skull shaped helm causing a wave of white tresses to fall to her shoulders, with some stuck to her sweat covered brow. She brushed the annoyances from her face with her forearm and took in the sites of the tavern's contents. She could smell the various fragrances of the occupants and their meals. She could even smell the sweet scent of various wines and the harsh scents of different ales. Every smell distinct, played cruel games on her hungry body.

She noticed a male figure, in the far corner, mumbling to no one in particular. Yes, she knew exactly who that man was, quickly and as determined as she would approach her prey, she started toward the table. She hadn't noticed anyone else as she passed, her mind focused on one person. As she approached she reached her slender fingers to her neck, grasping at something under her breastplate, that was unnoticeable at a glance. With a quick jerk of her wrist she snapped it from her neck, leaving a slight red mark. She slammed the object, hard, onto the table in front of the man. Her hand slowly lifted from the table, revealing a necklace, with what looked to be a piece of old worn cloth, wrapped around something, bound like a tiny pouch, to hold it's contents securely on the silver chain.

"Tell me, Vladdik, do you remember that?" Nanarie stood slightly behind him, arms crossed, her face was hateful, her lips pressed in anger, turning a lighter shade of blue.

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*Apokolipz had been sitting alone in the shadows of the Butchered Halfling for some time, observing his House-mates as they went about their own things and had their own private meetings. So, he quietly sucked the juice from a raw halfling eyeball, occasionally mumbling to the darkness. When the House's newest member stormed in, his eyes instictively darted to her, the Shadow Knight with blood red armor...

...the 'spirits' had warned him about her... but he didn't understand why...*

"..what's this...?" he asked the air in a whisper, as he watched the dark knight approach. She seemed upset, to say the least.

'...she means you harm...' the shadows whispered in his ear, as she came up beside him, slamming her hand to the table and causing him to drop the half-eaten eyeball into the bowl in front of him.

...and then, she said that word... Vladdik... The word was familiar yet foreign, like something he had heard in a dream from years ago...

Apokolipz blinked, somewhat stunned, and turned to look the Teir'Dal in the eyes. As he looked at her hate-filled expression, his own face regained its composure, growing cold and distant.

'...she is trying to poison your mind...'

'...she is the deceiver...'

"Silence, spirits!" he shouted to the nothingness. That word, 'Vladdik', it meant something, but his mind couldn't grasp exactly what. Refocusing on the necklace left on the table.

...that cloth....worn and tattered...it reminded him of his old robes, the one's he wore when he first awoke in the Halls of the Dead in Neriak... when the whispers first started....as did his memory...

Reaching out gingerly, he took the small bundled piece of cloth from the table, slowly dragging it towards him. He could feel the warmth of it in his hand, from having been to close to flesh for so long. There seemed to be something inside, wrapped within, something heavier than the cloth. Slowly, under her watchful gaze, he peeled the cloth open.

'...leave, Apokolipz, leave here now...'

'...this is a trap....'

"I SAID SILENCE, SPIRITS!" he yelled to the darkness of the empty corner, his hand, which held a corner of the cloth, jerking with his movement.

Silence... the whole tavern went silent at his command... and the spirits, whose whisperings had plagued him since his 'rebirth' went silent as well...

...and in that silence, he could only hear the sharp clatter of something metal rolling across the table...

His iceblue eyes darted to the noise and rested on the small golden ring that bounced off his bowl and spun in place untill it came to lay flat on the table before him... a ring he recognized from somewhere... beautifully crafted dark gold... slight in design, too small for a man's finger, even a Teir'Dal's...

Slowly, he picked up the delicate work of art, and instictively read the inscription....

Looking back to the Shadow Knight beside him, his expression almost lost and totally unlike him, he whispered to her in a pained voice,"...Nanarie...?"

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Impatience was clear, by the look on her face and the way her foot tapped the floor. All she saw within his eyes were confusion and then suddenly nothing. He turned his gaze from her to the necklace laying upon the table. She watched his careful movements as he pulled her keepsake to him and began to reveal the contents within. His loud outburst didn't even cause her to flinch, her composure was hard and determined. But the rest of the tavern grew eerily silent. The only sound was that of the ring as it made its way from the cloth to his plate then as it rolled and spun until it stopped before his eyes. What was going through his mind at this moment? Since they had been somewhat reacquainted, she had never seen anything but a cold look in his eyes and now he looked lost and confused. Could that mean something? Could he remember?

Then, he uttered her name, and with that she took the seat across from him. Placing her helm beside her seat and her sword against the wall. She looked at him, her eyes still a raging sea of blood and nodded.

"Do usstan look anymore familiar to thyne eyes?"

Her mind raced with questions and demands for an explanation for what had happened and where he had been since she last saw him, when he was still Vladdik.

She suddenly realized her throat was parched and her stomach rumbled with anger for its lack of attention. She looked behind her and spotted the bar keep apparently watching what had just happened in their corner. She raised hand, holding an imaginary mug of ale and patted her armored stomach, her way of requesting some ale and a hearty meal.

She turned back to the Tier'Dal she knew as Vladdik and looked within his eyes, "I must remember that dos are no longer the Tier' Dal I once knew."

But by nature, she refused to give up and was determined to make him remember.

"We shared a past, Vladdik. Ask of me what dos wish."

Her face still unchanged, pure hatred, and her voice was cold. She leaned back in her chair, stretching her left leg out, her left arm folded across her waist and letting her face rest in the palm of her right. hand. Her armor glinted in the faint lights of the tavern and her face was shadowed, even her eyes seemed dark and unseen.

South Ro and the Ancient Cyclops - Part Two
*The desert sun had retreated beyond the realm of sight, bringing the darkness of night. The air grew cooler, but nowhere near the arctic conditions of Iceclad. Yes, this land was nearly the opposite. The Southern Desert of Ro, plagued with orc, undead, lost travellers who have gone mad over the years... and sand giants.

There were also a group of Teir'Dal gypsies within this desert, who plyed their wares to whatever evil humanoid that made their way to them. These dark elves made their camp in the middle of the sandy wastes... and, to the north of this encampment, was a large dune. Sitting on this dune was a dark figure and his undead guardian.*

"...heh, Husam, what a waste of time he was..." I muttered to the growing shadows. The sand giant seemed much weaker than his brethren, and I had heard that a paladin was looking for him as some mission for his masters... which was why I killed Husam myself and kept the plans he sought. Even better was the fact that night had finally come. During the day, the sun seemed closer to the world than in other areas I had been to. The heat seemed to sooth my bones, but the brightness of it hurt my eyes to no end. Now that the full moon shone, I could see a lot better.

'...be ready...'

I perked up at the whisper. Looking around, I could now see from one end of the desert to the other. "Is it coming?" I asked the spirits. "The Ancient Cyclops?" My dark elven eyes peered into every shadow in the distance. And then, I saw it.

Over the top of a distant dune, I saw a large head rising. Soon, the form of a hulking humanoid could be seen, lumbering over the desert sands. It wasn't as large as the sand giants I had seen... it must be it.

Hurriedly, I rushed towards it, my skeletal minion dispatching a dry bones skeleton along the way. Finally, I was close enough to see it in detail, its large single eye peering towards the Teir'Dal encampment. As a side thought, I realized that it was midnight, exactly...

"...perfect..." I whispered to no one. Silently, I spoke the words of power, enveloping the Ancient Cyclops' head in darkness. Immediately, my cursed minion charged in to attack the creature, its weapons gleaming in the moonlight. I continued casting my evil magics, setting the cyclops' blood on fire in its veins and draining its life force energies from its body. "Die!! Off to the Hells that Innoruuk has planned for your soul!" I shouted at it, and it stumbled away blindly in fear of my words.

'...destroy it..'

'...take its power...'

The Ancient Cyclops fell shortly after, its last breath gusting out of it in a loud *woosh*.

'...the ring...'

I approached the corpse of the creature, eyeing it to make sure it was dead. My minion moved to my side, and I raised an eyebrow to the shadows. "Ring?" I asked. "What kind of ring?" I began to search the cyclops' hands, searching for the ring.

'..power, it has...'

'..but it has other purposes...'

I found the ring, but it was more of a bracelet to someone of my size. As I took it off of the cyclops' dead finger, I could sense the power which radiated from it and see the mystical runes carved into its surface. "What other purpose..?" I asked absently, inspecting the ring further.

'...collect a Shadowed Rapier from the Shadowmen of the western commonlands..'

'...see the wandering gnome of the Rathe Mountains...'

More tasks? When will Innoruuk stop testing me like this?

'...and bring him a gift...'

'...he is fond of gold coins...'

A rapier? Gold coins? I sighed, walking towards the Oasis, my minion following closely behind...

South Ro and the Ancient Cyclops... Part One
*The harsh environment of Iceclad seemed not to affect the lone Teir'Dal and his undead escort. Snow and wind whipped about, as the dark elf added yet another corpse to the bloodied ground around him.*

'...the time hass come...' the whispers told me.

I paused in my tasks of skinning the recently slain snow cougar and removing its teeth. Looking towards the shadows where the voice originated, I nodded. "Good, this desolate place is beginning to tax my food resources." Then, I returned to my work.

'...the cold does not bother you...?'

I scoffed as I yanked out a magical tooth from the snow cougar's skull. "As much as it bothers my skeletal slave," I answered, my tone somewhat condisending. After I was finished, I sat down yet again on the frozen and bloodied ice. "Okay, then, what does Father wish of me, now?"

'...the deserts...' one of the spirits whispered. '...travel to the Desert of Ro...' another chimed in.

Usually, the spirits always whispered in a constant choir of uncomprehensible hissing noise. Whenever there was something they deemed that I should know, then their whispers became understandable.

My eyebrows pinched together. "Back to Ro? What lies there that needs my attention? Nothing but sand, undead, and giants." I knew that these snow cats were becoming easier as time went on, and lately they were not suitable sacrifices to Innoruuk, but I awaited new orders to move on... that time was now.

'...a rare giant wanders the Ro deserts...' The whisper came from my right. '...the southern deserts...' another spirit whispered from my left.

"A giant?" I asked. Giants would make perfect sacrifices, their size and strength a great example of Innoruuk's power... when they die.

'...not just any giant...'

'...the Ancient Cyclops...'

Rising to my feet, I turned to the last spirit to speak. "Cyclops,eh?" I asked rhetorically. "Whatever, it will die by the Will of Innoruuk." Then, I made my way to the island's docks to seek transportaion to the arid deserts of Ro.

'...yesss...by the Will of Innoruuk...'

House D'Orakaa - week two
*The icey winds whip over the half frozen waters of Iceclad Ocean and the iceburg isles scattered around there. On one such isle, the local gnomish pirates have made a good business providing a small amount of shelter to those rare adventurers that would attept to hunt in these frozen lands. And, on this isle, sits a lone figure, with his ever-alert undead warden.

The bone-chilling winds of this artic land seem to have little effect on the Teir'Dal necromancer, as he sits in a state of meditation, and absolutely no effect on the animated skeleton standing at his side. The Teir'Dal's bone-white hair whips about in the air, as white as the snow-covered isle. The Teir'Dal's rich attire has small chunks of ice which have formed on it since his arrival in this land, yet he does not shiver from the cold.

Rarely, the gnomish sentries on patrol pass by him, giving him plenty of space; even they can sense the chaotic doom that seems to surround the white-haired necromancer. And, whenever one would get too close, they would hear his faint mutterings, light whispers to the nothingness or, possibly, to his undead companion, before being turned away by the skeletal guardian.*

Apokolipz sat, meditating, going over whatever of his own thoughts he could grasp. The spirits made it harder to think as time went on, but his own concentration allowed him to focus on his own mind for short periods, before having to follow Innoruuk's Will and damn another soul.

"...the girl speaks to her deceased family, she is not like me..." he muttered. "Teriken's 'father', although powerful, is not a god, but he seeks to become one..."

Snow and ice begin to fall from the sky, adding a physical pelting force to the artic winds, which goes unnoticed by the necromancer. A layer of ice begins to form on the skeletal warrior, which eventually cracks off ofits bones when the animated undead moved to look at an approaching snow cougar.

"...now, Innoruuk knows of Teriken, and Father will soon face Father..." The Teir'Dal seems to barely notice the curious snow cougar as it approaches. The cougar's face slips back into a growl, as it senses too late the nature of the beings before it. With a slight gesture from the necromancer, the undead bodyguard quickly moves into action, ancient weapons slicing through the air... within seconds, it reurns with the cougar's valuable pelt. "...another soul damned to Innoruuk's Hells..." the dark elf comments, nodding not to the skeletal minion, but to the nothingness in the air to his opposite side.

Another gnomish sentry approaches, giving the duo plenty of room as he retrieves the remnants of the snow cougar's carcass, under the watchful gaze of the skeletal minion.

"...yes, the dark, child-like Saible did so seem to enjoy our 'gift'..." the Teir'Dal muttered, returning to his meditations. "...the human child that I 'rescued' from the gnolls of Blackburrow has a place in Innoruuk's plans, and Saible, seemingly, is willing to care for it..." His undead guardian shifts again, turning its gaze from the departing gnome and back to the wilderness. "...whatever plagues her mind seemed to have been lifted for those few moments that I saw them together..."

In the Mind of Chaos...
It has been many seasons since my "rebirth"...

I awoke with no memory, no House, and no will. My "Masters" claimed that I was of noble birth and that my immediate family lay dead for many years. My family names were supposidly removed from the records of Neriak... for reasons no one will devulge to me. My House was lost in the minds of Neriak's people... forgotten as so many others had been. The price paid for making the wrong enemies. My will... became that of Innoruuk... for whatever reason. Since my "rebirth", the spirits have plagued me with their whisperings...

Those that found me so long ago nurtured my necromantic calling. My path has only been where the voices tell me to go. Every night, every hour, every minute, EVERY WAKING SECOND of my existance has been filled with the chaotic whisperings of these spirits... and, as time goes on, as I damn more souls to the Hells that Innoruuk has created for them, as I destroy, corrupt, and kill in the name of the Father of Hate, Innoruuk... more voices are added to the throngs...

The spirits seem to be the tortured remnants of souls that I have condemned. No matter how good or righteous these beings may have been in life, in death they serve Innoruuk. They tell me things I need to know, places I need to be, and secrets I need to learn - all by the Will of Innoruuk.

I now have a new House. House D'Orakaa has taken me under its dark wing, adopted me into its family. The Lord of this new House also serves Innoruuk, and has become a mentor of sorts to me. Dark Lord Darmoe D'Orakaa, a master in the necromantic arts and a Teir'Dal, like myself. I know that House D'Orakaa has my loyaties. I would perform whatever tasks the Dark Lord would ask of me. Yet, I also know that Innoruuk's Will, these spirits, rule my being... I now have a new family of sorts, full of dark brothers and sisters, but my Father will forever be Innoruuk...

And so the seasons pass. With each new step on this path the Innoruuk has laid before me adding a new voice to my mind... I know I have grown more solitary... it is getting harder to focus on the words of others when these whisperings fill my ears with ever-growing volume. I seem to spend more time in the company of the dead and the undying. Mare X`Lottl is my only living companionship *snicker* and she's just a whore, a paid confidante who only seeks to please me... when the spirits allow it...

My only solice, it seems, lies in the Will of Innoruuk. I should feel blessed by his dark touch.
AM I NOT THE CHOSEN?!
AM I NOT THE ONE THAT HEARS 'HIS' WORDS?!

House D'Orakaa - week one
*A lone figure sits in the shadowed corner of the Maiden's Fancy's downstairs "viewing" room. Obviously Teir'Dal, he sips from his glass of rich elven wine, brooding over something he seems unwilling to come to terms with. Spice, the female ogre bouncer of this area of the Fancy, eyes him warily, yet seems unwilling to approach. Even Mare X`Lottl, his favorite toy, sensed his displeasure enough to leave him be.

And, from this dark, brooding figure, faint whisperings could be heard between sips...*

"...I don't understand, what can it mean...?" The richly adorned Teir'Dal sipped again from his glass. "So much has happened today..." He seemed to pause, as if listening intently to another part of his one-sided conversation. "But, the Soul-Gem around his neck... it means something more..." He slowly shook his head, his now-white hair falling over his face, another sign of something unknown, like the so-called 'dark elf' with the gem. The Teir'Dal turned to look at the empty seat next to him. "And what of 'her'? I have never seen another like me, yet she speaks with you, too?" He lowered his voice again, focusing once more on the drink in his hand. "...or, is she something else..?"

Mare moved towards him, yet Spice held her back with a look. "Leev him be, child. Him not tawkin to uz."

"...I wonder if Darmoe, Lord of the Dead and Lord of House D'Orakaa, knows of these things..." the brooding nobleman continued in whispers. His eyes darted to a spot by the wall, deep in the shadows, where no one obviously was. "Yes, you are right, he must know already..." Another sip and a nod to an unasked question. "I am sure of it..." He raised an eyebrow. "Hmmm, and the other Teir'Dal who's 'father' speaks to him... no, 'through' him..." Now, he notices that his glass is empty.

Immediately, Mare brings him another drink, with Spice's approving nod and watchful gaze. "Apokolipz..?" she says his name hesitantly, placing the drink before him and removing the empty glass from his hand.

The brooding dark elf seems to refocus his eyes, almost as if a haze were lifting, as he looks to her. Mare's beautiful face was wrought with worry. His eyes softened as he looked at her.

Her body twisted slightly under his gaze, showing off her best curves to his eyes. "Is everything alright?"

Apokolipz smiled to her in response, dropping a few gold coins on the table. "Dance for me, Mare. Take my mind off of my worries..."

In the Beginning...
My earliest memory was waking at Talorial D`Estalian's feet up in the heights of Neriak's House of the Dead. His cruel features seemed somewhat surprised as I got to my feet. It took a bit to get my berrings, and he seemed distracted by a young necromancer in search of chores to do.

The smell of rotting flesh seemed to cling to my tattered robes... and an unusual insignia was barely noticable sewn into its chest. It seemed to be familiar, but I couldn't remember from where...

"Where... who am I...?" I asked hesitantly, looking up at Talorial's sinister features.

He only grinned evilly at me in response. "Forgotten dossta past?" his words hissed through cracked lips. I didn't know what "dossta" meant at the time, apparently such words were forgotten.

And then, I heard a soft whisper from the shadows to my left, behind the torture rack. '...you are the Apokolipz...'

My head turned to the source, peering into the shadows with my dark elven eyesight, yet there was nothing there.

"Xon Quexill brought dos ghil," Talorial continued, taking only the barest hint of interest in my preocupation. "Hetha V'Syph found dos doeb wun lil Ultricle."

Another whispered voice spoke to me from behind Talorial, though I could easily see that no one was there. '...Innoruuk has spared your soul, Apokolipz, given you new life to do his bidding...'

"What bidding is that?" I asked the unseen entity, taking Talorial by surprise. He could see that my question wasn't aimed at him, and neither was my gaze, yet he remianed silent.

'...you will do Innoruuk'ss Will...' the whisper came from behind me now. Slowly I turned, as the voice continued, '...The Father of Hate bidsss you to use your necromantic power to torture the ssoulss of his enemiesss... the Apokolipz hass returned...'
I began to hear other, incoherant whisperings around me, their words overlapping and combining into a chaotic jumble of hissing sounds. Closing my eyes and trying to focus on them, I asked, "Who.. 'what' are you?" My mind was being filled with the jumble of noise, causing a confusing haze over my thoughts.

'...the ssoulss of the dead you have put to rest..' answered an invisible spirit to my right. '...the tortured remnantss of livess you destroyed...' added another whipered voice to my left.

I covered my ears and soon realized that such mundane attampts at silence would not work... and so it has continued these many seasons since that day...

I learned from Talorial that Xon Quexill was a master necromancer, and, with both of their help, I learned some things about my past. My birth father was a warrior of the Indigo Brotherhood - he died when I was very young. My birth mother, who also died long ago, was a noble, some distant, hard to trace relative of Queen Cristanos Thex - she was the one who killed my birth father. Alas, is the way of the Tier'Dal. Fortunately for me, what wealth that was once theirs became mine.

The spirits bid me to enter the Lavastorm Mountains and slay as many of the denizens of that forsaken land as I could, ending only when Innoruuk had given me a sign, though what that sign would be, they would not elaborate on. So, for many seasons, I hunted those fiery peaks, until one fateful morning, as the light of the sun rose over the summit to blind me, once again, with its morning light, I was ambushed by a Paladin of Mithaniel Marr, of all things. He spouted something about Karana and struck me from behind... foolish human. Needless to say, Sir Lindeal's life was brought to a screaming end, and in his death was the sign I had been waiting for. Searching his corpse, I found a scroll hidden in his pack, the Testimony Truth, in which was written the holy vow to Mithaniel Marr... such a thing in the hands of one such as me, it had to be the sign...

I continued my tutalage under Talorial D`Estalian and Xon Quexill, completing the petty tasks that they laid before me, until, finally, I was sent to find the lost Tome Insert pages in the Ultricle... the place of my rebirth... I went to have a drink and see Mare X`Lottl, the local stripper in Neriak, and slowly my mind began to grow worried about returning to that place, the spirits soothed my fears. 'Innoruuk's Will lies in the Ultricle...' So, I went into the ancient graveyard in search of two things. The tomb inserts were easy enough to find, thanks to the help of a tight-lipped Tier'Dal shadow knight, a beautiful rogue, and an ogre killing machine. That was when I first heard word about the living Tier'Dal legends known as Darmoe and Eire D'Orakaa. Their names were spoken with awe, as if they were both quasi-deities and nothing more than legend... I knew I had found what Innoruuk willed me to find. After putting my newly found pages together, I went on my own quest to find these two beings...

Many seasons later, while I sat under the heat of the Oasis sun, a strange event happened. I saw a human bard running over the dunes. He seemed to run like the wind, and I soon saw the reason why he ran with such urgency. Two sand giants, enormous lumbering humanoids, came rushing over the dunes after the human. I had just finished withering a deepwater crocodile, which drained me of much of my dark magics, so I just sat back and enjoyed the sight. The bard ran around in circles, using his torturous music as a weapon against the giants, but they seemed to only grow more upset... then, a new voice whispered into my ears. It wasn't the voices of the spirits that constantly pestered me; this time was different. It was Darmoe D'Orakaa who whispered to me. He seemed interested in what I was doing. Me?! So, I described to him the sights I was seeing, about the foolish bard trying to outrun the two sand giants.. and my Dark Lord Darmoe was amused... He told me that we would speak again, so I went about my slaying. Then, the spirits began whispering to me. 'Darmoe hates bards just as you do...' they said, and it gave me an idea. Immediately, I returned back to Neriak, but I stopped near the entrance to the ever dark Nektulos Forest. There, before me, stood another human bard by the name of Travis Two Tone. He didn't seem to take much notice in me and I was curious as to why he was there, so I approached him. After some light conversation in Human speech, which I learned many seasons before, this bard asked me to deliver a letter for him... into North Freeport. I don't know what kind of fool he thought I was, but I knew that North Freeport was full of paladins and other holy light-lovers who would probably kill me outright as soon as they saw me. Who did this bard think he was, trying to send me on a suicide mission into that place?!

'Innoruuk wills you to slay this bard...' the whispering voices told me. That was enough to fuel my growing hate of this bard into an outright attack. "Die, Travis Two Tone! Off to whatever Hell Innoruuk has planned for you!" I shouted at him, as my skeletal slave attacked. Travis ran in fear of my words, as my magics ate away at his body and soul... After he died, the voices spoke to me again. 'Innoruuk wishes you to slay this bard 100 times; that is the Hell the Father of Hate has for Travis...' 'Your Hate must prove strong to accomplish this task, and Innoruuk will reward you when it is done...'

Now, as most of you know, my task was completed, with each of that damned bard's deaths being shouted by me to all within earshot proclaiming Innoruuk's Will, and my reward was the amusement of my new Lord and Lady D'Orakaa...

The new seasons have brought more whispers, seemingly due to my own actions. Those I slay in the name of the Father of Hate seem to be added to the souls that pester me with their words; a neverending chorus of tortured messengers who seem to do Innoruuk's Will in their pestering, yet also slowly peel away the layers of my sanity...