Post by Drakira on Apr 3, 2019 17:22:12 GMT
NAME: Volyar
BORN: Nuln
AGE: Around 40
Time changes a man. This I know better than most. For I was not always the Marauder that you see now.
I was born in Nuln; my childhood was not tainted by tragedy, nor hardship. As was the tradition with my family, as the third-born son, I was to serve Sigmar’s glorious Temple. From the age of seven I spent my life in service to the Priests and Templars until it was decided that I was to become a Templar myself. My studies were relentless and dangerous, learning much of the secret cults of the Ruinous Powers and how to undo them. The High Priest himself noted my natural aptitude in sniffing out heretics, and soon I was to be honoured with the holy duties of the Sigmarite Church.
From the age of fifteen I hunted them; warlocks, witches, cultists, and the unpious. All confessed under my hand, as in Sigmar’s Holy Name I helped drive the shadow of the wicked from Nuln and farther afield. But something was not right. A nest of depravity seemingly lay right under my nose, and as my investigations led me closer to its source, the trail led me to the head of my Order; none other than the man who had ordained me as a Templar.
It would have been unwise to make direct accusations, and so I patiently gathered evidence and conducted careful investigations. He was well protected. Yet he knew my suspicions, of that I have no doubt.
One morning, I was summoned alone to his very own quarters, where he and two Priests were waiting. A very special mission, they said. One of utmost importance, on which secrecy depended. My task, was to hunt down a man, so dangerous, that only I was trusted with success. And so I was sent to the ruined town of Mordheim.
I shall not bore you with details of my journey. All that matters is that I found him, and I killed him. As my blessed bullet found his brain, the warlock screeched a tirade of words that wracked me with agonies unlike any that I had ever experienced. His body erupted in dark lightning, and as the tempest of his demise ravaged the space around me, the world turned black.
When I awoke, his curse was now mine to bear. The Templar that I once was, was dead, and I remained.
Can you imagine it, finding yourself that which you abhorred? I still recall staring at my left hand as it twisted in nerve splitting pain from an impossibly large pincer, to a bone-covered club, to a bestial claw, as I screamed my madness in that desolate place, distant laughter echoing through my mind.
It was a stroke of genius from the Sigmarite Priest; his enemy was slain by my hand, and the threat of his exposure was not to be, for I could never return to the life that I once lived.
For weeks I wandered, contemplating taking my own life, for that would be the proper action. Heresy must be purged. My dreams were filled with lucid horrors, visions of betrayal and truths that filled me with anger, steering me to the only path left to me. To return to Nuln and slay the one responsible for... for this. Only then, I might claim my salvation. I ask only to whatever powers might listen, that there is enough of me left to see it through.
BORN: Nuln
AGE: Around 40
Time changes a man. This I know better than most. For I was not always the Marauder that you see now.
I was born in Nuln; my childhood was not tainted by tragedy, nor hardship. As was the tradition with my family, as the third-born son, I was to serve Sigmar’s glorious Temple. From the age of seven I spent my life in service to the Priests and Templars until it was decided that I was to become a Templar myself. My studies were relentless and dangerous, learning much of the secret cults of the Ruinous Powers and how to undo them. The High Priest himself noted my natural aptitude in sniffing out heretics, and soon I was to be honoured with the holy duties of the Sigmarite Church.
From the age of fifteen I hunted them; warlocks, witches, cultists, and the unpious. All confessed under my hand, as in Sigmar’s Holy Name I helped drive the shadow of the wicked from Nuln and farther afield. But something was not right. A nest of depravity seemingly lay right under my nose, and as my investigations led me closer to its source, the trail led me to the head of my Order; none other than the man who had ordained me as a Templar.
It would have been unwise to make direct accusations, and so I patiently gathered evidence and conducted careful investigations. He was well protected. Yet he knew my suspicions, of that I have no doubt.
One morning, I was summoned alone to his very own quarters, where he and two Priests were waiting. A very special mission, they said. One of utmost importance, on which secrecy depended. My task, was to hunt down a man, so dangerous, that only I was trusted with success. And so I was sent to the ruined town of Mordheim.
I shall not bore you with details of my journey. All that matters is that I found him, and I killed him. As my blessed bullet found his brain, the warlock screeched a tirade of words that wracked me with agonies unlike any that I had ever experienced. His body erupted in dark lightning, and as the tempest of his demise ravaged the space around me, the world turned black.
When I awoke, his curse was now mine to bear. The Templar that I once was, was dead, and I remained.
Can you imagine it, finding yourself that which you abhorred? I still recall staring at my left hand as it twisted in nerve splitting pain from an impossibly large pincer, to a bone-covered club, to a bestial claw, as I screamed my madness in that desolate place, distant laughter echoing through my mind.
It was a stroke of genius from the Sigmarite Priest; his enemy was slain by my hand, and the threat of his exposure was not to be, for I could never return to the life that I once lived.
For weeks I wandered, contemplating taking my own life, for that would be the proper action. Heresy must be purged. My dreams were filled with lucid horrors, visions of betrayal and truths that filled me with anger, steering me to the only path left to me. To return to Nuln and slay the one responsible for... for this. Only then, I might claim my salvation. I ask only to whatever powers might listen, that there is enough of me left to see it through.