Irdrin Malalos
Dunmer
24 (and dead for 400 years)
Sign of the Tower
Follows: no one
Dead Thrall to Vaynrileth Faelan
Kin
Eyes of the dead stare with a glassy, opaque gaze at surroundings that the barely functioning mind can comprehend due to limited sight recall. Not only is it hard and rather boring being dead as all the world's pleasures are denied him, it gets lonely. At least Irdrin has his summoner and master Vaynrileth, but sometimes he wonders if it would just be better to die. No, not just wonders, sometimes he knows it would be so much better to die.
For an outsider looking in, it would be hard to place when and where Irdrin first met the necromancer known as Vaynrileth Falas. Some say it was after her banishment. Some say it was before. A few even claim he was one of the corpses that rose from the grave the day she first revealed her dark arts to Meridia's obscure cult. The latter is untrue, for if anyone bothered asking Vaynrileth why she chose him as her thrall, they'd realize it couldn't have been while she was small. Before delving into that whole scheme, one must first take into account Irdrin Malalos' history.
Irdrin Malalos once went by a different name: Azarkan Redoran of House Redoran. Sound familiar? It ought to. Redoran is one of the five great houses ruling over Morrowind. The first name, his name, Azarkan, will not sound familiar at all and it shouldn't, for it was stripped from the history books four centuries ago, not long after his brutal execution.
Azarkan Redoran was the second born son of the councilor Raner Redoran. In his youth, he was the most promising of his four siblings, showing great aptitude to learn the ways of House Redoran, and he held all their tenants to heart. But his older brother, the firstborn, was the stronger of the two, and therefore showed the most prominence as ascending councilor. Azarkan was held in high regard but still pushed aside to make way for his elder sibling. Despite it all, he went on to achieve great things for his House, eventually entering into their city guard of Mournhold.
When he turned twenty-three, he set his sights on the House Dres, whose ambitions and inability to honor all life had led them to the sacrilegious practice of owning slaves. But they went so far as to mistreat, abuse, and eventually kill them when they lacked production or used up their purpose. Azarkan spoke out to his family against these horrible things, and found support among his friends. They led raids on the plantations, freeing hundreds if not thousands of slaves in a few short months, catching the House Dres off guard, as they had not expected anyone to oppose them.
Azarkan's attacks against the Dres plantations caused a drastic fall in their profits. They only brought in more and more slaves, made the working conditions even harsher through their quota demands. Azarkan, in turn, made his attacks all the more grander. Even went so far as to conjure an army of atronachs within their very holds to destroy their properties. He burned fields till they were of no use. He never killed though, save the filthiest scum of the taskmasters who beat the slaves without mercy. In this way, he believed he retained his honor.
But House Dres only looked at the destruction and felt nothing but hate for the rampaging Dunmer. They went before House Redoran and declared war.
But if anyone came to notice, there never was a war between House Dres and House Redoran. House Redoran withheld all their support from Azarkan. They held it back too soon however, as he had already gone to House Dres for another raid, only to find that none of his allies came to meet him there. Only a large band of members of the House.
Azarkan was drawn and quartered and parts of his body were dumped on House Redoran's doorstep. But House Redoran, in all their desire for peace and fear of war, as they themselves were facing desperate times, wiped clean the slate of history, eradicated all traces of Azarkan, and pretended nothing had ever happened.
A war never came then. The threat was eliminated and apparently had never existed. The Houses continued on as usual.
Irdrin vaguely remembers his life and passions and feats from his days as Azarkan Redoran. If he bears any inkling to that life, it is only from what he read in Azarkan's journal, dug up and read over by Vaynrileth. He doesn't want to look at his past, only his present. Perhaps that is why he doesn't seem to care for anything except serving Vaynrileth as her companion. Or maybe that's why he wants it to end.
It seems ironic in a fashion, that he fought to end slavery and wound up a slave himself. He doesn't see it as irony, but as an unjust punishment. A curse.
He was brought back through a spell similar to the conjuring spell of Dead Thrall, but it was more ritualistic and required the help of the Daedra. But despite the spell being successful, he is not fully there, and he feels himself slowly wasting away. He was a corpse for so long, and a corpse he will one day return to being. When? Who really knows. Could be tomorrow or fifty years from now.
Irdrin himself still looks the same as he did four hundred years ago. He still has his dark skin, his light blonde hair (though it looks white now, probably because of his real four hundred years of age). His eyes though are very pale with only hints of red. He looks cold and stern, serious and a little severe, but he's always looked that way apparently. He is a spirit, not a soul. Disconnected from his soul, he has vague memories and can mimic life, but he is lost from being ripped apart like this. Hence why he was so easily forced into Vaynrileth's services. He also lacks most free will and cannot make decisions for himself usually. He also has a slower time remembering or recalling things unless a severe and strong emotion was attached to the memory. Though he still possesses and repeats the ideals held by his house, his heart isn't in it anymore. He has lost his passion. He is literally a shell of his former self.
Dunmer
24 (and dead for 400 years)
Sign of the Tower
Follows: no one
Dead Thrall to Vaynrileth Faelan
Kin
Eyes of the dead stare with a glassy, opaque gaze at surroundings that the barely functioning mind can comprehend due to limited sight recall. Not only is it hard and rather boring being dead as all the world's pleasures are denied him, it gets lonely. At least Irdrin has his summoner and master Vaynrileth, but sometimes he wonders if it would just be better to die. No, not just wonders, sometimes he knows it would be so much better to die.
For an outsider looking in, it would be hard to place when and where Irdrin first met the necromancer known as Vaynrileth Falas. Some say it was after her banishment. Some say it was before. A few even claim he was one of the corpses that rose from the grave the day she first revealed her dark arts to Meridia's obscure cult. The latter is untrue, for if anyone bothered asking Vaynrileth why she chose him as her thrall, they'd realize it couldn't have been while she was small. Before delving into that whole scheme, one must first take into account Irdrin Malalos' history.
Irdrin Malalos once went by a different name: Azarkan Redoran of House Redoran. Sound familiar? It ought to. Redoran is one of the five great houses ruling over Morrowind. The first name, his name, Azarkan, will not sound familiar at all and it shouldn't, for it was stripped from the history books four centuries ago, not long after his brutal execution.
Azarkan Redoran was the second born son of the councilor Raner Redoran. In his youth, he was the most promising of his four siblings, showing great aptitude to learn the ways of House Redoran, and he held all their tenants to heart. But his older brother, the firstborn, was the stronger of the two, and therefore showed the most prominence as ascending councilor. Azarkan was held in high regard but still pushed aside to make way for his elder sibling. Despite it all, he went on to achieve great things for his House, eventually entering into their city guard of Mournhold.
When he turned twenty-three, he set his sights on the House Dres, whose ambitions and inability to honor all life had led them to the sacrilegious practice of owning slaves. But they went so far as to mistreat, abuse, and eventually kill them when they lacked production or used up their purpose. Azarkan spoke out to his family against these horrible things, and found support among his friends. They led raids on the plantations, freeing hundreds if not thousands of slaves in a few short months, catching the House Dres off guard, as they had not expected anyone to oppose them.
Azarkan's attacks against the Dres plantations caused a drastic fall in their profits. They only brought in more and more slaves, made the working conditions even harsher through their quota demands. Azarkan, in turn, made his attacks all the more grander. Even went so far as to conjure an army of atronachs within their very holds to destroy their properties. He burned fields till they were of no use. He never killed though, save the filthiest scum of the taskmasters who beat the slaves without mercy. In this way, he believed he retained his honor.
But House Dres only looked at the destruction and felt nothing but hate for the rampaging Dunmer. They went before House Redoran and declared war.
But if anyone came to notice, there never was a war between House Dres and House Redoran. House Redoran withheld all their support from Azarkan. They held it back too soon however, as he had already gone to House Dres for another raid, only to find that none of his allies came to meet him there. Only a large band of members of the House.
Azarkan was drawn and quartered and parts of his body were dumped on House Redoran's doorstep. But House Redoran, in all their desire for peace and fear of war, as they themselves were facing desperate times, wiped clean the slate of history, eradicated all traces of Azarkan, and pretended nothing had ever happened.
A war never came then. The threat was eliminated and apparently had never existed. The Houses continued on as usual.
Irdrin vaguely remembers his life and passions and feats from his days as Azarkan Redoran. If he bears any inkling to that life, it is only from what he read in Azarkan's journal, dug up and read over by Vaynrileth. He doesn't want to look at his past, only his present. Perhaps that is why he doesn't seem to care for anything except serving Vaynrileth as her companion. Or maybe that's why he wants it to end.
It seems ironic in a fashion, that he fought to end slavery and wound up a slave himself. He doesn't see it as irony, but as an unjust punishment. A curse.
He was brought back through a spell similar to the conjuring spell of Dead Thrall, but it was more ritualistic and required the help of the Daedra. But despite the spell being successful, he is not fully there, and he feels himself slowly wasting away. He was a corpse for so long, and a corpse he will one day return to being. When? Who really knows. Could be tomorrow or fifty years from now.
Irdrin himself still looks the same as he did four hundred years ago. He still has his dark skin, his light blonde hair (though it looks white now, probably because of his real four hundred years of age). His eyes though are very pale with only hints of red. He looks cold and stern, serious and a little severe, but he's always looked that way apparently. He is a spirit, not a soul. Disconnected from his soul, he has vague memories and can mimic life, but he is lost from being ripped apart like this. Hence why he was so easily forced into Vaynrileth's services. He also lacks most free will and cannot make decisions for himself usually. He also has a slower time remembering or recalling things unless a severe and strong emotion was attached to the memory. Though he still possesses and repeats the ideals held by his house, his heart isn't in it anymore. He has lost his passion. He is literally a shell of his former self.