The Lion, The Witch, and the Servant

[Worm Watcher]

"...You can do such good"

...said the Politician

"...You can walk both paths"

...said the Mage.

"...We can fight"

...said the Lion.

"...I am like you"

...said the Guardswoman.

"... We can change our Fate"

...Said the Old Stonesman

"...Will I become another Leged?"

...Said the Priest.


You may know me as Rastin Yepenen.

I was a pirate. Not even a very good one at that. I arrived upon the isle of Ymph in the year 159. After two years of serving in a prison naval colony on suspicions of piracy (As I was the cook), I was ripped from my cell by ancient magics known as the Mythallar. Upon my arrival to Mistlocke I was awakened in both spirit and soul by the magics deep within my blood.

I am a Sorceror, A Witch, A Warlock. Yet upon this isle there is a Curse. And in a weakened state my magic was corrupted by the Lich who spawned the curse. I was a Necromancer. Suicide was my first thought, as all things often were to a man as cowardly as I once was.

Yet as the darkness within my blood began to grow I began to learn of this land. I began to learn of its people. I began to hope.

...and I began to fight.

To the Wyrm Watchers in search of their King I am a cure or a curse. A potential hope or a potential doom that will see them all destroyed.

To the Numinous Order of the Three and One I am known as "Avert-the-End", and in me they place their hope for salvation from the Apocalypse. That I may claim this gift within my blood and use it to avert the Witch.

To the Stargazers I am a curiosity but a "Shaman" as many of theirs are.

To Mistlocke I am a Witch-Hunter.

Yet my story begins as all tales do:

A young boy, a bottle, and a tragic mistake that shall forever haunt me...

[Tface=Callig]T[/tface]he Lion, [tface=callig]T[/tface]he Witch, and [tface=callig]T[/tface]he Servant.

[Worm Watcher]

The Servant's Tale-

[tface=callig]A[/tface] pirate life for me...

Part one:

I am no Wizard so I cannot give you full account of what occurred that day but I can do my best with what has been gifted to me in both curse and birth. Off of the coast of the Waterdhavian territory there rests a filthy moss covered rock in which those suspected of "High Piracy" in dishonor of the Masked Lord's seas are housed. A short stay before a lengthy drop to the bottoms of the depth, I was a tenant of this find isle.

Born in the streets of Waterdeep I never amounted to much, and was reminded of such daily after my birth led to my mother's death and drove my father to the Drink. While I officially parted ways with my little family left at twelve, years before that I had fallen in with the usual crowd of neglected children turning to cut-throats, thugs, dockworkers, and others for a bit of coin for a good time. Rather runtish and scraping by for my survival I found myself eventually ensnared in a pirate's game of chance: An escape, freedom, and the high seas where a man can live or die on his own terms.

Sadly those terms happened to be living in a rat-infested barge with a handful of foul smelling murderers, rapists, and brigands who allowed me a small bunk in return for serving them meals and cleaning their vessel. Any work that was not wished for the "Earners" I was offered or beaten, threatened with death, or worse desertion upon a foreign island. The good times were good, perhaps even great compared to my upbringing- Fresh air, food when I could manage, but the greatest feeling of all was that freedom. Aside from a handful of men who could die at any moment from rivals I was free. When my work done I could relax, swim, float, or what ever it was I desired.

The bad times however were equally bad. At times our vessel stopped in port and I was thrust back onto land and suffered. Other times our vessel boarded as I cowered for my life in the slightly flooded cargo, praying to Tymora, Umberlee, Beshaba, Valkur, or any who could hear me. As all things must come to an end however... I was captured, beaten, interrogated, and stowed away upon the Isle of Inernment. Upon seeing I could not raise a sword, let alone kill a man or steal his cargo, I was deemed "Suspicious" but non-criminal. I was given a life in an old unused cell (For hangings were common), served as a cook to the inmates and guards, and occasional rat hunter.

Part Two:

Late one evening in my second year, during a particularly bad storm season, our fishing supplies dwindled and our food stocks began to spoil in the damp heat. A desperate man does many curious things, and after four days of picking mold from bread to nibble I found myself hunting rats. A far from glamorous task perhaps but survival is as such.

I had originally thought it mania, a hallucination perhaps brought in in my weary state. Started and fearful after a handful of rats poured across me there was a spark. No, a literal spark. A blue jolt of something I could not fathom. My first thought was madness. My second though was Magic. My third was stop thinking as to skin, peel, and feast upon that meal. As I lay there cooking the rat I awaited and attempted, focused and thought, seeking to recreate that moment. Little did I know however that two months later my life would be forever changed...

Late in the night it came for me. A horrific flash of light the likes of which I had never seen. No chance to pray, no chance to think, I was merely present one moment and the next I ceased to exist. The world was black and my thoughts silence.

Part Three:

I died.

It was not glamorous, it was not happy, it was not pleasant. It was everything I had expected from my life of meager survival and piracy. Many tales of glory were wasted on that moment. There was no Valkuran vessel waiting to take me to high adventure, there was no Avatar of the Bitch awaiting to drag me to her depths. There was only silence...and then... nothing.  Time ceased to matter. The world as I knew it was gone and I knew not where I was or how I arrived. It started, distant at first, but grew into cacophony so immense it could be heard deep in my very soul. A horrid screech, an agonizing pain, and a fire lit within my brain.

It began in my feet. They arrived without me upon the Isle of Ymph as it took time for me to be rebuilt. Slowly up my legs before reaching my torso, my arms, and ultimately my head. The eyes were the last to come as I gaze out in horror of the world in red. To this day I cannot put into words the pain I felt. A thousand knives within my bones. Fire within my blood. Lightning within my brain. My muscles all at one screaming out in pain, begging for a death that would never come.

I would later learn to call this my "Awakening", yet at the time I knew only pain...But as quick as it had come it had left. Within me was a placid sense of apathy and contentment. I felt strangely at home upon this isle the Tribal called "YMPH". While I still ached all over it slowly was replacing with a soothing grasp.

A pull from the land itself into my heart, pumping slowly into my blood, taking away all the pain, the hunger, the anguish and in its place a slow apathy washed over me. A calming sensation and an almost bliss like state as if from a fine bottle of wine, a good woman's touch, or the sea breeze again upon my face.

My eyes went fuzzy. My nose began to bleed. I collapsed once more into the darkness. Not...fearing it any longer, not feeling the pain. The finest sleep of my life washed upon me for what felt like years.

For the first time in so long, I was at peace...