Arkcis Zerebuth, the Advocate

You should not be here - Vale’s(?) first words to Arkcis

  What has always made hell on earth has been mortals trying to make it their heaven. The bordertown of Smoldering Shelf, like many similar outworlder communities, lay perilously close to the literal plane of hell, overlooking a near boiling lake and surrounded by jagged peaks. Though demons were not a rare sight, the largely mortal populous of Helltaken there lived generally tolerable lives.   The Duergar servants of Ephias The Chain Maker changed this nearly overnight when the dark god's power created portals into the lower planes for these wicked dwarves to summon, or in the case of this community and others like it, snatch its denizens for slaves and fodder. It is now a regular occurrence for places such as these to suffer such incursions; its people were kidnapped off the streets in quick succession, forcing a rapid rise in armed resistance during subsequent raids. So it has been for centuries since Ephias empowered the Duergar after the War against The Autumn Queen.   Arkcis never knew Smoldering Shelf. Despite the now frightful conditions of the town, it was still paradise in comparison to the place his parents had been taken to, the Duergar city Cinderstone. He was born into slavery shortly after arriving in Tairos, and though ordinarily he and his mother Sanise might have perished under these conditions, his father Damil had the dubious good fortune of being a knowledgeable engineer. It was enough that even the Duergar with all their ingenuity saw a use for that talent. The Zerebuth family were sold to members of Clan Barrendoom, and there they toiled for one of their overseers, Melmut.   The fact that Damil proved useful beyond the norm for a slave did not make the family's lives much easier; their child’s life was held hostage and both were worked as hard as any other thrall in Cinderstone. The one small grace they had was being allowed to remain together, which allowed them to teach Arkcis in the evenings during their brief respites. This tiny bit of allowance from the otherwise brutal Melmut was uncharacteristically lenient, but he was also quite calculating in his machinations and knew it would keep Damil in line, to the Zerebuth’s luck. Arkcis’s education, though roughshod and stern, were the only good memories he had as a youth.   Even as a child, Arkcis was unusually rage-filled. Most thralls in Cinderstone were reduced to broken wrecks, but somehow his resentment grew rather than became suppressed under the brutality of his enslavement. He and Sanise were forced into hard labor while his father was made to assist in the building of tools and machines to aid their masters. Only his parents' guiding hand each night kept him from doing anything rash. On one particular day after he had entered his teenage years, while salvaging the wreckage of a ship dragged in by Barrendoom haulers on the coast, Arkcis found an unusual box amid the flotsam. As the Duergar did not expect these wrecks to carry anything but raw materials, Arkcis was able to secret it from the site and bury it where he could retrieve it later.   One evening he went back to the shore through a secret path he discovered out of the pens of the Barrendoom estate they were kept in. There he unearthed and opened the box, discovering a simple circlet wrought in a gleaming, otherworldly metal. Affixed in its center was an eye surrounded by soft motes of light. The moment he touched it, he was compelled to put it on. Instantly it was as if a gate in his mind had been blown open. The young tiefling’s senses sharpened, and his focus and will were honed to that of a battle hardened warrior. Startled by this sudden clarity, he was shocked to suddenly feel a presence in his mind. Almost dreamlike in its whispered words, it moved him to action, guiding him towards finding a way to freedom.   Though fearful of this mysterious voice and worried he had gone mad, he nonetheless could not bring himself to part with the circlet. The whispers died down after several minutes and soon became akin to a mental compass, driving him by instinct rather than commands. It felt almost calming, filling him with mental fortitude the longer he “listened”. He came to believe, after meditating alone that evening, that the presence had always been there since he came into this world of Tairos, but he could not hear it over his anger, until now, on this fateful discovery. The first lesson was a simple dweomer that concealed the circlet as he wore it. Arkcis knew that the key to his and his family’s freedom lay in the guidance he could now perceive from his increased awareness.   Over the next month, Arkcis followed the direction of the presence, learning as much as he could after the day’s difficult labors and the evening’s lessons from his parents. He was capable of very minor miracles, but the presence always stressed caution and secrecy, for within Cinderstone there were eyes and ears, as well as the Chain Maker’s cult. Arkcis did not understand much, but obeyed, knowing from overheard words throughout the years that this land of Tairos had long suffered a catastrophe that wiped out magic and the divinities, save for what was possible through manacite and the horrors perpetrated in Cinderstone fueled by demonic essences. The spark that Arkcis had touched could not be discovered here. Some time later, Melmut received word that his cousin, a raid captain named Belath, was returning from an expedition to capture more assets and collect on debts owed the Clan in faraway Becklinberg. Having taken an overland route after going down the coast by sea past their hated kin in Ghal Ankar, he was to meet with Melmut upon his arrival at port. The overseer took a group of Clan Barrendoom Duergar as well as a number of slaves, including Damil, to help with any maintenance. As fate would have it, Arkcis and Sanise were also working the port that day.   What happened next would shake the tiefling to the core for the reminder of his life. As the boat docked, Melmut went to greet Belath. What came ashore, however, was the twisted remains of his cousin and his crew; cords of hair bound their necks as they, in a mindless frenzy, drew their weapons and attacked their clansmen. They had long since been killed, but were stitched back together with thick hair and given an unnatural strength. The gruesome remains of Belath bellowed only the words “The debt is repaid!” over and over again as it hacked into Melmut. The port erupted in chaos as guards rushed to destroy the flesh golems made from their kin. In a flash of inspiration, Arkcis pulled his parents along, attempting to make for Belath’s steam vessel. Just as they reached the gangplank, Sanise let out a scream; one of the golems had lunged and sank its axe into her side. Arkcis attempted to save her, but she furiously threw him aboard the ship and turned to hold off the golem, ordering the two of them to leave. Though devastated, Damil knew that his wife was mortally wounded, and grabbed his son and boarded the ship. Having helped build this particular vehicle, he knew how to quickly start it and escape from the port amid the chaos.   Bitter at the violent loss of Sanise, Damil nonetheless knew that their only chance of survival was to make it beyond Cinderstone’s reach and past their allies of Clan Dougal, as well as skirt past any Stormlander pirates. He taught Arkcis what he needed to know to help control the ship, and they silently began their hard journey south. The further they went from Cinderstone’s poisonous shores, the stronger the presence in Arkcis made itself known. Though it still spoke rarely, he could feel it more clearly than before, and it brought with it wisdom to go with the small amount of power granted to him. His father was astounded by his story, but encouraged him to gain as much as he could using whatever means necessary, if it meant Arkcis’s freedom.   As they neared the coast of Tengu town, a sudden storm blew in from the east and, though father and son fought valiantly against it, their undermanned vessel suffered a severe blow and broke a vital mechanism. Both were thrown overboard.   Arkcis awoke, sputtering and gasping, and found himself on shore, with a Tengu traveler kneeling besides him. He was attempting to administer first aid, and was startled by the young tiefling’s sudden revival. Arkcis knew somehow that whatever guided him now had aided in his survival; his frantic search for his father however, turned up only tragedy, as Damil had taken in too much water and perished. His body has washed ashore near Arkcis, and he mourned the deaths of the only two people in his life that meant anything to him.   His benefactor introduced himself as Bard, an adventurer returning to Tengu Town on business. Arkcis had seen some of Bard’s kind in Cinderstone before, but he was the first he had met. Bard would prove vastly different from any other Tengu he would meet from then on; inquisitive but personable, learned but idealistic, and endlessly generous. He offered to help Arkcsis after learning of his situation, and helped bury Damil with a marker nearby, something the tiefling would later discover was not usually their way. Arkcis sensed that Bard’s intentions were pure, and so agreed to follow him to Tengu Town.   The next several years saw Arkcis apprenticed to Bard. The Tengu warrior taught Arkcis how to handle weaponry, how to survive in the wilderness and most importantly, provided him with knowledge and books that he has collected in his travels. Bard considered the sullen and brooding Arkcis a younger brother, enough so that the tiefling entrusted his secret to him. Bard in his usual way was fascinated, instead of repulsed, by what he called Arkcis’s “guardian angel”, and promised to help him learn as much as he could about the presence. The Tengu as a collective had little interest in the dead Tairosian gods, but Bard had a deep interest in learning as much as he could on any subject of Tairos’s history, and here, he would excitedly tell his ward, was the exceedingly rare chance to see something that might be divine and beneficent.   Arkcis was a voracious reader, his parents' most enduring gift to him, and in time named Vale The Architect as his benefactor. The presence never gave any indication as to its true nature, but Arkcis grew confident in its guidance as the years passed. Arkcis made for a rough adventurer, and eventually in Ghal Pelor he found a place that was in every sense the opposite of brutal Cinderstone. The grand temple was of particular interest, as was the university. There, Bard agreed to sponsor Arkcis’s desire to study the laws of the city and Old Balmoral, as he wanted to use such knowledge to practical use if his abilities as an adventurer could not make the difference the presence guided him towards.   A year into his studies, Bard sent him a message announcing a plan he had long decided on and asked for his help. Arkcis gladly gave it.  

You belong - Bard to Arkcis