Home
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Build: Toned
Eye color: Green
Hair: Brown
Height/Length: 6'0
Occupation: Pianist/Black Market Dealer
Race: ElfChaotic Neutral
A chaotic neutral character follows his whims. He is an individualist first and last. He values his own liberty but doesn’t strive to protect others’ freedom. He avoids authority, resents restrictions, and challenges traditions. The chaotic neutral character does not intentionally disrupt organizations as part of a campaign of anarchy. To do so, he would have to be motivated either by good (and a desire to liberate others) or evil (and a desire to make those different from himself suffer). The common phrase for chaotic neutral is "true chaotic." Remember that the chaotic neutral character may be unpredictable, but his behavior is not totally random. He is not as likely to jump off a bridge as to cross it. Chaotic neutral is the best alignment you can be because it represents true freedom both from society’s restrictions and from a do-gooder’s zeal.
--excerpted from the Player’s Handbook, Chapter 6
The Rookery
The Home
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He stirred from his sudden sleep, eyes tried to pierce though the dark. His eyes were blinded, hands bound. That’s all he knew for sure. He felt the creaky boards under him, the smell of fresh tea. Now he knew he was in Arosong’s cabin.
“A-Arosong?” He called out softly. His mind raced with every possible scenario. The air suddenly grew thick with tension as a single voice spoke out.
“Mythrilon.”The elf froze in fear, the voice not of his brother’s but of another. A man that shook Myth at his core and made ice run through his veins. He suddenly began to panic internally, heart racing, blood rushing. He wanted to run away, he wanted to be so far away.
“Z..Z-Zivir..” Myth did not pose the name as a question but as a fact. He just spoke his name. He recognized the voice he learned to love then to fear so long ago. He visibly began to panic, lip quivering, shivering all over and a bead of sweat trailing down his face. The whole situation was made worse by his helplessness, knowing he was at the mercy of his former lover.
“You look tense.” The voice spoke with amusement; Myth could almost hear the smirk on his face.
“My…brother..he..” Myth finally snapped out of his panic briefly to remember he was still in his brother’s home.
“Fine.” There was a shuffle across the room, someone else approaching. Myth froze again, a soft purr escaping from that third party.
“Arosong?”
“Mittens.” He spoke so softly; Myth could tell he was not himself.
“Dammit…” Myth thought,Zivir wouldn’t have had any trouble charming Arosong, his mind was already a mess.
“We will be off now, I’m sure you won’t mind your dear brother having a little vacation.” A pulse echoed through the room, time itself being ripped. A portal had opened. Myth panicked again.
“No! Please…” His plea went unanswered, the shuffling of feet silenced as the portal shut. In an instant, Myth had regained vision and mobility suddenly, realizing magic was binding him that whole time, the effects gone with their host so far away.
“Dammit…Dammit….” Myth was on the floor, already in tears.
Part 2
He would never understand why he ran after Zivir alone, why he followed despite his venerability. He couldn’t even land a solid punch without collapsing. He just followed despite his weakness.
Along the border of the Arathi highlands was a small manor. It couldn’t withstand any real military might, but it was protected enough to keep the lowly bandits and invaders away. The stonewalls were guarded by Zivir’s men, mostly comprised of goblin mercenaries, easily convinced by the coin Zivir offered. Beyond the fence, the structure was clearly designed with human architecture.
Myth swallowed hard as he approached the front door without as much as a glance from the mercenaries. He was expected. He looked down to the note Zivir left behind, simple directions to the home he stood before now. He did not bother knocking, simply pushing past the crimson double doors. The exterior hid the beauty inside the home quite well. It was decorated with Zivir’s wealth, crimson silk curtains, pearl white walls and arched doorways marked with gold trim. Zivir’s slice of paradise amongst a war-torn Azeroth.
The home was quiet, only a slight shuffle amongst Zivir’s few servants who seemed to ignore his presence.
From an archway, Zivir appeared before Myth. The brunette couldn’t muster any words either, just standing before him, struggling on his cane as he battled his nervous fit. The two exchanged words through their gaze before Zivir simply approached the other man. Myth flinched immediately at his approach but made no struggle as his hand was taken gently, guided towards a private part of the home.
He was led to what he assumed would be his quarters, coming to realize that he would not be leaving this place anytime soon. His gaze caught sight of his twin, to his relief, sleeping peacefully on the bed. He finally realized how late it was, looking out the tall glass window to see the clear night sky. His thoughts were interrupted by a small kiss to his cheek, then the sound of the door closing behind him along with a click of the lock.
Myth simply stood in place. Accepting his predicament. He had just walked into the maw of the beast without a second thought. He let himself be imprisoned. He couldn’t even muster tears; he just swallowed hard again, deciding to focus on his twin.
Arosong showed no signs of distress; he looked cared for, regular baths and meals. Myth even noticed a small pile of papers and supplies for Arosong’s artistic past time. Zivir was taking care of him. Much better then his own brother could Myth admitted to himself, waves of guilt rushing through him. He thought on how he left his brother to manage himself alone in a creaky cabin, not a thought about his struggle for his basic needs.
Again, he held back tears. He dropped his cane and kicked off his shoes, resting his tired body on the bed, keeping himself away from his twin in shame.
“I deserve this.”
Myth let those words run through his head as he fell into a restless slumber. The first of many to come.
