Drevlin Oathbreaker

One-thousand years past, a dark time beset the Ansara clan of the dwarves. Silverarm was the patriarch of the Ansara and he was driven insane by the dark whisperings of his evil god-lich, Velsharoon. One day he cursed the stronghold with blight and disease and the dwarven king fell ill and died, only to be raised from the dead into undead servitude. His soul still wanders the shadows and hallways of his keep. The Ansara clan, never welcome anywhere least of all with the dwarves, was banished.This clan of dwarves became known to all other clans as Oathbreaker.

Drevlin had been raised to worship Velsharoon, just as his great-grandfather Silverarm had done. At a young age he commited himself to the service of The Lord of the Forgotten Crypt, and the clerics and deacons noticed a deep worship and strong belief. He was taught the dark whisperings of death and undeath, the very same whispers that had driven his kin mad. He began to channel the dark lord's power to do his will in the world.

But Drevlin also found that he could heal a person, body and mind;that he could heal just as well or better than he could hurt. He spent many hours working on healing salves and potions, aside from his normal studies of old religion and archaic texts of ancient chaos. He liked doing good things, he found; and his soul was most at peace praying to Velsharoon to have mercy on the world. He would serve his dark master, but always try to temper his judgment. Drevlin was very devout in his prayers and every day he would ask Velsharoon for guidance and mercy for the world. Guidance he would recieve.

And so it came to pass, that one night during his ritual worship, Velsharoon's voice broke loose from the whispers and grabbed Drevlin by His very soul. It told him to go into the world and seek out a grey elf. An elf named Lord Alkadian Beldier. He was to follow this elf and give him aid for as long as he was commanded, he would know what to do when the time came. As quickly as the voice had come, it left. Drevlin packed his things then and there and stole out into the night, comforted by the embrace of thick darkness.

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Five years later, and many hard journeys past Drevlin still followed Alkadian dutifully for his master. He still prayed to Velsharoon for guidance and, from time to time, steered their direction in some small way. With a suggestion here, a desire to go to this town or that, once even spreading a rumor of monsters and treasure to bring his party around when they had become too comfortable in one place.

The whispers were louder now, and didn't only come during his prayer ritual. Drevlin could hear them all the time. Sometimes they would be nothing more than an underlying hiss, like wind through the wheat fields. Other times they were so loud it made thinking of anything else impossible. Drevlin could feel himself being drawn into a deep pit of madness and fought to keep himself balanced on the edge. But he never once thought of turning away. He loved the whispers and the dark secrets they would tell him. He would never give that up. The time was growing near, he could hear the whispers speak of completion and he wondered if they spoke of his quest, or something else. Something darker.