Name: Korhadris Lhanniant
Age: 43
Race: Elf
Height: 6'1"
Weight: 147 lbs/ 66.7 kg
Physical Description:
Korhadris is young, as far as elves go, though it didn’t show in his should-be youthful face. Though it is unmarred and free of scars, Korhadris' face shows a constant struggle for peace in his sickening body. His golden hair is cropped short. From under his straw locks, bright, cobalt eyes peer hungrily out in to the world ahead of the young elf, searching for new sights and knowledge to be had, though they are sunken into dark sockets.
Standing around six feet tall, Korhadris' frame is slight and sickly lean. Having wrestled with consumption, his body is aging before its time. This disease causes him constant discomfort and occasional fevers, leaving the elf damp with sweat.
His body is normally hidden in a suit of padded leather armor. This is worn for both bodily protection and warmth, as his body is constantly feverish. The armor is thin and pliable; resembling a trench coat, though it was slightly thicker. The greatcoat is completed by a long, padded lining that brushes the ground as he walks. Under his greatcoat, Korhadris wears a long sleeved, cream-colored, cotton shirt over a pair of black trousers, which are generally tucked into a pair of brown, leather boots.
On his back, Korhadris carries a small knapsack of his personal belongings, including a change of clothes, rations, and a small keg of ale. It also carries a set of traveling alchemical gear and a case of thirty phials. Around his waist is strapped a simple dagger of martial intent, which is only to be used in dire circumstances. He is an alchemist first and tries to refrain from martial engagements. To engage in combat would surely exhaust him and force a coughing episode. Along with this dagger, Korhadris carries with him a tome of medicinal herbs and potions.
When the elf speaks, a tormented voice issues forth. His words are quiet and raspy, almost too quiet to be heard. His words are not clipped and short, however, but they are drawn and lethargic. Though this may be a turn off for some potential customers, the majority of the people that he sells his wares to don't mind.
Possessions:
Knapsack - In this backpack, the alchemist carries his personal belongings, including clothes, rations, and a small keg of ale, a bed roll, and a case that enclosed his traveling alchemical gear and dried ingredients. There was another case inside that had room for thirty phials, though it only carried twenty six at this point in time.
Alchemist’s Traveling Gear - A collection of phials and tools that were useful in preparation of potions and poisons, or in the gathering and preservation of ingredients. The tools that are needed for the creation of potions and poisons are designed to be small and/or collapsible, so that a Journeyman would be able to take their gear with them on their travels. Currently there are twenty six phials filled and four empty.
Potions and Poisons - The majority of the phials that Korhadris brings with him on his travels are medicines such as Goldenseal and Willowbark,. Also in his supply of tonics, Korhadris has various poisons stowed away. These are of his creation.
- Voidfog - Voidfog is a green liquid that gives off fumes that sear the lungs, causing them to fill with blood, drowning the victim.
- Wisp's Finger - This unnoticeable tincture was clear, tasteless, and odorless. When ingested, it would eat through the lining of the stomach.
- Firebrand Poison - This black liquid, despite how it was introduced to the body, would sear through the victim's blood vessels, causing agonizing pain and eventual death.
- Ten phials of Goldenseal
- Ten phials of Willowbark
- Two phials of Voidfog, Wisp's Finger, and Firebrand Poison each.
Tome of Medicinal Flora - The medical book is easily carried in a small box on the elf’s waist. Within it are the names and locations of a multitude of medicinal plants, as well as how to prepare them for use.
Powers or Strengths:
Novice Bladesman - Korhadris is a newcomer to the way of the blade. He did not grow up in a martial environment, being a child of a mage and a horticulturalist. But due to his travels abroad, the sickened elf has taken it upon himself to learn how to defend himself with a knife.
Journeyman Alchemist - Due to his environment as a child, Korhadris became an alchemist after his time in school was over. This, however, caused his ultimate doom, as it resulted in his exposure to consumption. After his journey in the astral plane (see below), this alchemy became his tool for death. The elf now creates potions to sell and poisons to kill.
Weaknesses and Flaws:
Consumption- Korhadris' life is waning much quicker than an elf’s should. He is slight of frame due to a case of consumption. Though the disease is more notably a human disease, Korhadris contracted the illness as a child and it is sapping his life. He is frequently wracked with coughing fits, spitting up blood and leaving the elf curled up in an unmoving ball.
Exhaustion - Due to his disease, the elf tires rapidly. His body cannot sustain a combat pace for long, and traveling wears on his body.
Extreme Pessimism - The young elf has a very negative outlook on things. The constant threat of his body killing itself has darkened his outlook on life, along with his unwilling willingness to kill others.
Mood Swings - Korhadris does not have a good grip on his emotions. This could be chalked up to his youthfulness, or it could be his pessimistic view on life. But it was most probably due his tormented trip in the astral plane. Whatever the case may be, the elf may be happy one minute and the next he may be the most sour being one has ever had the misfortune of meeting.
Emotional Torment - His journey into the astral plane, and more specifically the place that he came to know as the Void, has tortured Korhadris. Three years he spent in almost utter darkness. For three years, Korhadris trudged along a narrow path, each step resulting in the screams of souls that his steps tortured. For three years, Korhadris was isolated from all who loved him. For three years, the elf worked towards the promise of freedom, only to have been put in spiritual captivity in the physical plane. He is forced to kill people in order to ensure his freedom and survival. His psyche is torn between the desire to kill others and free himself and the desire to save others and not harm them. A soul split in two, Korhadris wrestles with himself with each kill.
Alcoholism - Korhadris turns to alcohol to deal with the trauma that he has seen and the chaos that he causes. It helps the elf forget the torment that he has suffered. If he is drooling drunk, Korhadris is unable to think about the eternity he spent in hell. It also helps numb his body and mind to those people that he has killed, especially the doctor whose name he never learned, the woman who saved his life, his first victim.
Aversion to Screaming - For three years, each step that Korhadris took resulted in the tortured screams of innumerable tormented souls. Now, every time there is a scream within earshot of the elf, his mind flashes back to a hellish nightmare. His body freezes in place as fear grips him, afraid to take another step, fearing that it would cause another scream. After some time, the episode ends and Korhadris gets a grip of himself, though the next few steps are always taken gingerly.
Goals:
- Become a Better Bladesman - To further his conquest of death, Korhadris will definitely have to become better with a blade.
- Learn the Way of the Assassin - Though his knowledge of potions and poisons is great, the elf's knowledge and ability to employ said mixtures is very limited. Korhadris must contact an assassin and learn their ways.
- Graduate from Journeyman to Master Alchemist - It is the goal of all peoples to keep moving up the ladder in their profession. Though Korhadris does have a sidebar to his alchemy, he still has a desire to gain the recognition of a Master Alchemist.
- Earning Sweet Freedom - The alchemist desires, more than anything, to be free of his disease. Though he believes that there are other ways to cure himself, if he does not kill, the Void will claim him.
History:
An Alchemist in the Making
An elf of Darleone, Korhadris was born to a horticulturalist, named Kahnladris Lhanniant, and his wife, Siarna, who was a mage that focused on the healing arts. Hailing from Aelali sai Aesydae, his parents were interested in the visitors that their city received from Eyropa. They always spoke of why elvenkind was created, and how they came from humans to save humanity. His parents stressed equality of all peoples, especially when it came to medicine.
As a child, Korhadris was a bright and cheery young boy. He loved the outdoors and would spend hours in his father's plant nursery. The elf child would run amongst the leave and branches of exotic plants, enjoying the scent they gave off. So, too, would he spend time helping his mother with her medical duties. She would be called out of the city to visit farmers and hermits to heal and take care off. Little Korhadris would join her and helped her with the movement patients and carrying of supplies. At this young age, Korhadris began to show an interest in medicine.
As with most elves of Darleone, for the first twenty five years of his life, Korhadris was brought up in schools, including a trade school that focused on medical arts. This was heavily encouraged by his parents, given their involvement in the medicine on the island.
His schooling included exposure to surgical arts, tradition medicine, horticulture, alchemy, and medicinal magic. Though he could feel the flow of the arcane, he was not attuned to it, and could not utilize the powers of the astral plane. Thus, he discovered that his mother’s knack for magic was not a trait that he shared. However, the elf did find his niche in alchemy. The concepts of recipes, concocting, preparation of ingredients, and how the mixtures affected the body seemed to come to the youth naturally. When the time came to pick a focus for his medicinal arts, Korhadris joined the School of Alchemy. This is where he would spend the rest of his youthful years, learning the way of an alchemist. He graduated from the school soon after his twenty-fifth birthday as a Journeyman Alchemist.
Though his time in school was pleasant, his interest in medicine would ultimately cause his doom. A few weeks after his graduation from the School of Alchemy, Korhadris was caring for a patient that was coughing up blood and whose life was fading fast. She was feverish and was losing weight rapidly. Korhadris recognized the signs as a lung infection that was known as consumption. It was highly contagious and extremely lethal. Try as he might, the young alchemist could not cure the aging elven woman. She died a few days into treatment, though she did not do so without leaving a legacy. Before precautions to keep the elderly elf from spreading the disease, the woman inadvertently infected the alchemist.
A few weeks after her death, the first signs began to show. Korhadris was visiting a young pregnant woman in the city when he started to feel feverish. He excused himself into the hallway outside of the room and the was the epicenter of his first coughing episode. Korhadris collapsed the ground and began to hack up blood. It was then that his doom was realized. He faded from consciousness on the wooden floor.
Journey into the Void
When the elf awoke, he was no longer a part of this world. Darkness closed all around him. There was no light, save for a single speck, faintly glimmering in the distance. As his eyes locked onto this dot of light, a faint path began to glow in front of him. The man looked down to see that he was wearing a simple, white hospital gown and was shoeless. He knew that he had to get out of this strange place, and something within him was pulling him towards the light on the edge of the horizon. He tested the path that was lit up in front of him and felt that it was solid. With a deep breath, Korhadris took a step.
As Korhadris took this first step onto the path, maniacal laughter erupted all around him. Though he could not see anything in the void, he could feel movement all to his left and to his right. Voices began to intrude into the darkness, some screaming and others whispering. Some were begging the elf to stop moving while others were begging him to move on. But ultimately, every single voice was filled with absolute and utter dread.
Korhadris stood frozen in spot for a few seconds and for an eternity. Time did not make sense in this realm. In fact, to Korhadris, nothing made sense. He looked over the side of the path only to look down upon himself, who was looking down upon himself, who was looking down upon himself, over and over again until he could no longer see. He looked up and saw the same phenomenon. To the left and right however, there was nothing; just complete and utter void.
The young elf took another step and his world erupted in a cacophony of sound yet again. It was deafening. Korhadris fell to the path and curled up in a ball. The din was so loud that it cause the elf physical pain. He touched the side of his head to find that his ears were bleeding and not bleeding all at the same time. Unable to wrap his mind around the chaos of his situation, Korhadris wept for years, he wept for days, he wept for minutes. When he was no longer able to cry, the elf righted himself and stood up. A single, solitary voice called out to him. It was a seductive and repulsive voice all in one. It offered the promise that if the sickened elf could make it to the bright spot an eternity away, the voice would release him from this torment. This was a promise that Korhadris could not refuse.
Korhadris took another step towards the light. Yet again, the choir of tormented voices screamed about him, but this time the pain intensified. His body felt as if it were alight with flame. The elf screamed in agony and fell to the path yet again. The voice spoke to him again, taunting him. It claimed that the elf would be lost in the void for eternity, never able to be free of the maddening darkness and the eternal pain it caused. Laying on the ground, the alchemist set his jaw. No matter the pain, no matter the tormented souls about him, no matter the cost, he would escape from the hell he was trapped within.
The elf stood up defiantly, his jaw set and his eyes locked onto the speck of light in the distance. He took another step and the voices begged him to stop. They burned his skin as they pleaded. The next step resulted in the same petition of cessation. It tormented Korhadris' soul and mind to hear the agony that these souls suffered by his hand. But the elf could not relent. He took yet another step, and another, and another. Slowly, he was walking towards the star. Slowly, he was growing callous to the pain of others. Slowly, he was going insane.
He journeyed into the unknown for seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years, decades, centuries, millennia, ages, epochs, eras, eons, an eternity. Each step chipped away at him. Each step brought him closer to salvation.
In the moment that Korhadris believed that he was unable to go on, a figure appeared in front of him. It was ghastly and shadowy, but the elf felt that there was something familiar about the apparition. It took a moment for his wearied mind to pinpoint what it was. Then it dawned on him. The image was him, though instead of a solid form, it existed in a figure of smoke and darkness. It was the own of the voice that made a deal with the tormented alchemist.
It erupted in dark laughter, clearly surprised at Korhadris' triumph. It was then, and only then, that the elf realized that he was standing on the precipice of a set of stone double doors. They were made of marble and where quite plain in appearance, being just two slabs of stone with handles attached to them. The two doors floated in the nothingness at the end of the trail of light that the smoky image and Korhadris stood upon.
The anti-Korhadris ceased laughing only to glare at the elf. It was then that the being revealed that it had not told a full truth a moment, and an eternity, ago. It explained that it would only free Korhadris from this realm if the elf agreed to spread the agony and the multitude of deaths that he felt in this realm in the physical plane. If he was able to claim one hundred souls in the name of the Void, the shadowy image would take away the elf's disease. If he failed to do so, or turned from the path set ahead of him, the void-beast would reclaim Korhadris' soul. The being held out his hand. Warily, Korhadris agreed and shook hands with the smokey form. At the point of contact, Korhadris felt the truth and validity of being's words deep inside him. With a smile from the demon that split the visage's head in two, the doors swung open, pouring light into the realm. The brilliance was all that the elf could see, all the elf knew, and he became the light.
Death's Awakening
Korhadris awoke with a start. He looked about at his surroundings and recognized the place as a hospital room. It was night and he was alone. The elf called out in the darkness, thinking that he was tricked by the anti-Korhadris once more. His mind was put at ease however, as a mage-doctor responded with surprise in her voice. She came into the room, astonished to see Korhadris awake. He begged the doctor to tell him what happened. She explained that Korhadris had been in a coma for three years, following his collapse on a visit to the pregnant woman's house. After immediate first aid and medical treatment were given to him, it was clear that Korhadris' mind had gone. His parents, however, were unable to simply let their son's body waste away. Instead, they had him admitted into the coma ward, where the mages were specifically trained to sustain a comatose person's body with magic.
Korhadris was alarmed. Three years was a small part of an elf's long life, but it was still a long time in existence. He slowly stood to his feet. His mind went back to the realm that he had traveled through and the deal that he had made with the gatekeeper. One thousand souls for a cure. He looked at the mage-doctor as her back was turned to him. She was busying herself with paperwork, giving the alchemist time to dress himself. There was, however, a malicious look in the man's eyes. The lighted upon a scarf that the woman wore around her neck. With steps that were impossibly quiet, Korhadris closed on the woman. He grasped the scarf around her neck and twisted it around her throat. He pulled it as tight as he could. The mage-doctor was unable to breathe, she was unable to scream, and fear had prevented her from being about to fight back. Her eyes grew wide with fright and rolled back into her head as she slowly died of asphyxiation. When she stopped twitching, Korhadris let go of her and she fell to the ground with a thud. He searched for her body for anything of use, finding some bishani as well as a small tome of medicinal herbs. Something inside him told the elf that this book would be useful later on.
Gathering up his clothing, and a few phials of potions that had turned vile with age, the elf stole out of the window. Sticking to the darkness, Korhadris made his way back to the house where his parents still lived. He sneaked inside and edged his way to his room. Inside he found everything he needed to start his journey. Clothes, hygienic supplies, some dried travel rations, a set of alchemist's traveling gear, dried ingredients, and a stash of a few hundred bishani that he had hidden, were all tucked into backpack, as well as a bedroll and an empty keg. He pulled on the clothes that were set aside for him at the hospital. Over these, he pulled on his leather greatcoat. He slid empty phials into leather loops that sewn onto the greatcoat. From its hiding spot under his pillow, Korhadris pulled out a sheathed dagger. This he strapped to his waist as well as the book that he found on his first offering to the Void.
As he was quietly hurrying about his room, Korhadris caught a glimpse of himself in his mirror. His image stopped him dead in his tracks. He looked like Death had awoken and was walking the earth. His eyes were sunken and crazed, his skin was pale and pulled taught, and his frame was lean. Then was the first time since his awakening that Korhadris truly realized that he was still sick. Almost immediately, the urge to cough almost overtook him. He forced the urge away as to not awake his slumbering parents. His parents. Korhadris couldn't just discover his disappearance. He quickly scribbled a note explaining that he would be traveling the world searching for a cure. He stalked out of his room and slid his way into the dining room. He placed the slip of paper on the table and without a second glance, the angel of death slipped out the door.
Angel of Death
Since that day, Korhadris has not looked back. Nearly twenty years have passed and the elf has quietly claimed few lives. Unable to cope with killing the innocence that was his first murder, Korhadris has turned to eliminating the corrupt leaders of the world. He has targeted many aristocrats who abuse the people below them and has ended their lives. The majority of these assassinations have been corrupt business owners. This was due to the fact that there were so many to be found, but also because they were generally easier to get to. Nobility and politicians had money, and money meant guards. Guards meant fighting, and fighting meant coughing. Coughing, ultimately, meant death.
Because of his training as an alchemist, he knew a large number of plants that would produce untraceable and unnoticeable poisons. Some toxins were gases that would be released in a form of a glass grenade. Some were truly acids that would eat through a person's skin or stomach. The alchemist's most useful poison, he has dubbed the Firebrand Poison. This poison, no matter how it was introduced to the body, would sear its way through the blood vessels of his victims, causing agonizing pain, until it took their lives. He has spiked wells with this poison, he has served nobles and dripped it in their drinks, he has even forced people to drink it.
Despite this, Korhadris still struggled with each kill. For years, the elf had fought to save life, not to take it. But now his hands were sullied and alcohol has become his relief. The elf drank to blur the faces that haunted him. He drank to blacken the vision of the mage-doctor who fought to save his life, the woman whose life he took in payment, her blue lips, her wide eyes. He drank to rid himself of her.
