Karastak

{Age: 25 (>1 month)} {Soul Age: ????? Potential}

{Level: 9.63} {STR: 59; DEX: 63; CON: 84; INT: 125; WIS: 99; CHA: 50}

{Class: Enchanter} {Subclass: Wordsmith}

{Skills:

; ; ; ; }

{Titles: Stubborn as a Mule; One Who Seeks Knowledge}

{Titles Equipped: One Who Seeks Knowledge}

Azazel sighed as she stared upon the screen within her white Void Space, unamused at the Title which appeared within. Of which was quickly removed, and in its place was {Immovable Object}. Thus causing her to chuckle at the irony, as those with the Immovable Object title were far more stubborn than those with the mule one. Not to mention swaying their minds took even those with Unrelenting Force many months before they were to even budge a centimetre.

However, such a vocal joy caused the one she was observing to wonder what was wrong, and had to quickly send a shake of her head through their shared link. Resulting in a shrug as he turned back towards his desire to hunt the Goblins. Of which was causing him some trouble due to them not revealing themselves to his energetic eyes. Whereas she just sighed and receded from his mind a little, recalling the story he gave her as they journeyed away from the deforested cave-home.

“Did you know, I was an Enchanter in my last life, too?” he called out, trying his best to start a conversation with the little girl in his head.

“[Oh yeah?]” she asked, not giving him her full attention.

Which led to him bobbing his head as he continued, “Oh yes. I gained it after my race found a way to travel to other worlds, and there was one in particular that I so enjoyed,” his face became one filled with so much nostalgia that he paused in order to sigh with some regret, “It was called Norrath, and I became one of many of its citizens upon it.”

“[What race were you?]” came her reply as her full attention was placed upon the man that would serve as her entertainment for as long as she willed it so.

Here, he pursed his lips with some displeasure, “Unfortunately, I chose to be a Human, but,” and held up a finger to forestall her groan, “but, I found out that my Class of Enchanter allowed me to become any other race I so chose to be. From the High Elves of Felwithe, the Wood Elves of Kelethin, to the Erudites of Erudin, the Ogres of Oggok, and down to the Iksar of Cabilis. All races, could I become with such a simple class that was looked down upon by those who saw them as only a way to become stronger.

“For we who held the Enchanter Class were masters of Illusions, second to none, but the strongest of Alchemists who could brew the same potencies as our spells. Even so,” Karastak held up a fist towards an invisible opponent, “we were seen as mobile augmenters for our groups, raiding parties, and Guilds. For though we had the ability to enhance the whole of our group, giving them great strength, agility, and even granting them the ability to regenerate their mana faster, we were wasted.

“This was due to the fact that our spells dealt more with the fact that they can enthrall the simple minded, mesmerise the foolish of foes, and cause the petty to flee from a single glance of our visage. All of this was circumvented, unfortunately, by such classes as Bards. For they had the ability to enthrall others with a few notes, cause an entire mass of hostiles to flee with a minour burst of noise, or even have them collapse, stunned by their performance. Though the class will always have my respect,” his eyes burst forth in a furious rage as he continued, “I will always curse them until the end of my days,” and obliterated a nearby tree with a single punch. Though, such an action did cause him to curse, as a few splinters had found their way under his skin. Therefore, he had to pick at them with care until all were removed.

“[Wow,]” Azazel replied with widened eyes, “[What did you do there?]”

“Well, you could do anything you wanted, but most decided to become great adventurers, to expand their Guild, and conquer the toughest of foes. For myself? I desired adventure,” he chuckled softly to himself, “and I received it within the Greater Faydark. More specifically, within Clan Crushbone's territory.”

The mind of Karastak was filled with the memories of Orcs wearing dirtied, yellow armour being slain one by one by either his spells, or by the spells and weapons of those he grouped up with. Yes. Even Azazel had access to such memories, and gaped as the air was filled with the cries of the dead and dying, as well as the colourful effects of the magicks which were commanded by those who could wield them.

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In one such memory, it showed a white haired Human with a long beard and wired muscles wearing only ruby coloured arm-guards and a violet robe with lightning patterns on the front. Here, the Human charged into the fray after watching a few of his comrades shout for help as they were swarmed. Whereupon he shoved an orc out of the way whilst shouting, “EYES!” and cast a favoured spell called Colour Flux. After which, an array of scintillating colours arose around his body, and burst with dazzling light. Thus, stunning the Orcs long enough to slay a few as they ran for their lives towards the entry way and freedom.

“I was even a part of a Guild,” he continued with a grin, journeying forward as the last of the shards of wood were removed from his flesh, “We were called Wayfarers of... I don't truly remember, but perhaps we were simply called The Wayfarers. Either way, we traveled all across Norrath, guiding those who were new to the world, and slaying the greatest of foes.

“Though I was nothing more than a Guild member of small renown, I still enjoyed being a part of such a wondrous collection of beings.”

“[What happened to your Guild?]” Azazel's eyes, already widened from the experience he had shared with her, widened further as he explained with a soured tone in his voice.

“As all things go, Azazel, our time upon Norrath came to an end, and we each separated to travel to newer worlds which had been discovered.” Here, he chuckled softly as images of other worlds sped past his mind's eye. Some of worlds full of swords and sorcery, of metal ships which flew through the vacuum of Space to distant galaxies, and of the journey to the Planes of Heaven and Hell. Each one different, but similar, as Karastak's own self always held a Support Class; never once becoming one who would deal the most damage within a group, nor receiving it all.

“Every world we journeyed to,” he stretched out his arms towards the heavens, barely glancing at his endarkened, clawed hands whilst his mind turned inwards just as the arms drifted back to his sides, “Every world revisited, I took up the Support Role within, or if there wasn't one, I'd become the Healer, Priest, or Cleric during my time upon the world. Not once have I held the desire to change my ways, but as we are here now?” his voice became full of chuckling, “Perhaps this will change. Then again, only time will truly tell, won't it?”

*

Azazel returned to the present, and peered down at the screen of Karastak's stats. Whereupon she frowned at his Soul Age, and tapped it absentmindedly, “[If I remember correctly, one question mark means two zeroes... or was it three?]” Her lips upturned into a frown as she felt a headache forming from her mind trying to remember. For it was nearly a century ago when such lessons were drilled into her head by the deity known only as Father.

“[Blah. Whatever. His potential is up there, and that's all that matters],” came her reply, pushing the thought away as she ruffled her hair before melding her mind with Karastak's once more. Here, she found out it was now twilight upon the world below, and he was crawling upon his abdomen underneath a berry bush devoid of most of its fruit.

“[Whatcha doin'?]” she whispered to the pale man, causing him to flinch which elicited a small grin from her.

“Don't do that, Azazel. Not when I'm in the middle of trying to be quiet and stealthy,” came his harsh reply in a whisper-like voice. She took a minute to have her eyes slowly traverse up and down his backside, making sure to give him the visualisation that he was the least stealthy creature in the whole of the forest due to his albino white skin. To which he let out a low and slow sigh of resignation, “I'm well aware of my skin and hair's colour, thank you very much. However, I've found a Goblin nest, but they're currently under attack by a group of Humans and a Dwarf.”

Here, he pointed towards what appeared to be the lip of a cave where more than a dozen Goblins were waving their sticks from the sidelines as around twenty or so of the green-skins hampered four Humans and a Dwarf, of whom had been encircled by the pests. Two of the Humans were males wearing chain hauberks with hard leather leggings and iron tipped shoes. In their hands were iron short swords and wooden bucklers, whereas atop their heads was a hard cap of leather and wood with iron rivets drawn down the centre. These two had the appearance of grim resolve upon their features, as though they were certain there was only two possible outcomes for themselves: Fight or Die.

The latter two Humans, however, were obviously female, as the bulges in their upper torsos gave away the indication. Both, however, wore dirtied robs of some sort of cloth. Though, one wore one with a faded blue tone to it, the other was a yellow cream. None of which revealed their figures, but he did find that the Goblins were paying more attention to them than the others. For the leather flaps which were held above their waists barely hid their members from full view of the group's eyes. Therefore, the females grew disgusted as they held one another with their own grim resolve. What is more, from the distance where he was, he noted that the hair of the females were both a raven black in colour.

As for the Dwarf, it was the standard sort of stocky build full of muscles and thick hair. However, this one seemed to lack any facial hair, despite being of the race. Instead, there was a thick braid of orange which cascaded down its back side, and was tucked into the belt therein. What is more, this one wielded the iconic and iron battle axe which were well associated with them. Not only this, but it also wore its own chain hauberk, leather leggings, and iron capped shoes like the Human males.

“[Are you going to help them?]” Azazel asked in a hard whisper, despite knowing full well no one else was able to listen to her voice.

“No,” came his soft reply, “I'm going to watch.”

“[That's a very non-support role of you.]”

To which he shrugged his shoulders in response, “I have no desire to help those who cannot help themselves, and I know very well that is contradictory to what I did to Brutus. However, he's a special case and reminds me of the Robert from my past life. Other than him, I won't be helping anyone else who won't help themselves.

“Therefore, if these fools are able to get themselves out of this sticky situation, then maybe, just maybe, I'll help them the rest of the way. It all depends upon what they do.”

“[And if they cannot?]” she grinned, knowing full well of the answer that was soon to come.

Which did so, as Karastak grinned right back at her, “Then I shall destroy them all and leave nothing behind.”