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Venom, Progeny of the Ancients. *Al-Shaitan* - Photo: Courtesy of KeeliBreanna
Venom (XLI)
Mini-Lich of the Lost
Created XLI: March 05, 2013
XLII: October 15, 2013
Status Active
Race Half-Elf
Hometown Riverhold
Classes Mage
Followed DarkClaw

Mud Contributions:

Created and hosted the first annual The Kindred Masquerade Ball

Current Description:


Your gaze pans the height and breadth of what seems at first glance
to be a regular half-elven adventurer when you begin to notice some
rather odds details. His clothing and equipment are immaculately clean
and rather polished, discretely bearing the runes of magical enchantment.
He stands tall and proud with an air of arrogance, his high classed
mannerism seemingly comes natural to him. His pale skin is obviously
stems from an all blood diet and dark circles under his eyes tell a
tale of a Kindred whose eyes have seen more than one lifetime of
killing to survive. His grin is wicked and evil, bearing long fangs
ready to rip you apart.

Dressing Up For the Kindred Masquerade: 12/20/14

Venom is using:
<used as light>     (Red Aura) (Glowing) a red dragon's eye
<worn on finger>    (Artifact magic) (Unholy) the mark of 'Al-Shaitan'
<worn on finger>    (Artifact magic) a ring twice given from Eldest to Progeny
<worn around neck>  (Artifact magic) a demonic familiar coiled around the throat
<worn around neck>  (Weak magic) a shiny black necklace
<worn on body>      (Powerful magic) a crimson leather vest, befitting a Ventrue
<worn on head>      (Potent magic) the black masquerade mask of the Nosferatu
<worn on legs>      some skin-tight black pants
<worn on feet>      (Moderate magic) some high class dancing shoes
<worn on arms>      (Invis) (Moderate magic) (Glowing) Midnight Black Bracers
<worn about waist>  (Moderate magic) (Woven) obscuring shadow and ebon flame
<worn around wrist> (Moderate magic) a sapphire of Skelos
<held>              (Moderate magic) a black daisy
<worn with pride>   the Ebon Sigil Odegra
<worn with pride>   the Ebon Sigil Odegra
<worn with pride>   2 pins, 5 ribbons

Current Set: 02/12/15

Venom is using:
<used as light>     (Moderate magic) (Glowing) a spinning blue spindle [gm|ac:-2 svs:-4 1#]
<worn on finger>    (Artifact magic) a ring twice given from Eldest to Progeny [mAGAN|AC -4 dmg:5 hr:6 1#]
<worn on finger>    (Artifact magic) (Unholy) the mark of 'Al-Shaitan' [mAGAN|AC 0 hr:6 dmg:5 1#]
<worn around neck>  (Moderate magic) a heart shaped locket [m|con:4 dmg:3 2#]
<worn around neck>  (Artifact magic) the Amulet of Hate [!emAGNR|AC 0 str:3 dmg:3 svs:-3 luc:-5 5#]
<worn on body>      (Artifact magic) the enchanted suit of leather [!OLghim|AC 5 ac:-10 ma:15 svs:-4 dmg:3 1#]
<worn on head>      (Potent magic) Unwavering Fanaticism [mAEg|AC 4 hr:2 dex:3 dmg:3 1#]
<worn on legs>      The Emerald Leggings [NDNR|AC 6 svs:-4 hr:2 25#]
<worn on feet>      (Potent magic) a pair of elven chain boots [m|AC 11 con:2 svs:-2 con:2 wis:3 1#]
<worn on hands>     (Potent magic) a pair of heavy cloth work gloves [m|AC 7 int:2 dex:3 wis:3 1#]
<worn on arms>      (Moderate magic) bulky sleeves of bear fur [m|AC 4 hr:2 dmg:2 svs:-2 5#]
<worn about body>   (Moderate magic) the Crest of Cormac [m|AC 5 svs:-3 dmg:2 5#] 
<worn about waist>  (Moderate magic) (Woven) obscuring shadow and ebon flame [m|AC 5 str:4 dmg:3 2#]
<worn around wrist> (Potent magic) a cuff of claws [m|AC 5 dmg:5 1#]
<worn around wrist> (Moderate magic) (Glowing) a pair of diamond studded mithril cufflinks [!gm|AC 0 dmg:4 ma:10 1#]
<wielded>           (Artifact magic) a three-headed dire flail [mND|10-14 hr:10 dmg:3 5#] 
<held>              (Artifact magic) the Brood-Queen's heartstone [!m|L21 sanctuary bless stone skin luc:3 svs:-5 2#]
<worn with pride>   (Moderate magic) the Symbol of the High Mage of Kuroth [mAENR|int:2 ma:10 1#]
<worn with pride>   a Pin of Mastery [|wis:1 1#]
<worn with pride>   Half-Elven Elder Braid 
<worn with pride>   a braid, 2 badges, 9 ribbons


Your gaze pans the height and breadth of what seems at first glance
to be a regular elven adventurer when your eyes catch some rather
odd details. His clothing and equipment are immaculately clean and
rather polished, discretely bearing the runes of magical enchantment.
Something is also a bit different in his posture, he stands very 
stout and proper as though a high classed mannerism were natural.
His eyes are unsettling, one is solid black, the other is red.
His grin is both evil and wicked, bearing long fangs ready to rip
into their next victim.

WHO Lists:

03/11/13 : Elf [       Ma: 7       ] Venom, Dark Blood-Letter and Demi-Lich of the Lost
03/13/13 : Elf [    Wa: 2 Ma:11    ] Venom, Dark Blood-Letter and Demi-Lich of the Lost
03/30/13 : Elf [    Wa: 6 Ma:11    ] Venom, Dark Blood-Letter and Demi-Lich of the Lost
04/02/13 : Elf [ Th: 5 Wa:11 Ma:11 ] Venom, Dark Blood-Sucker and Mini-Lich of the Lost
05/04/13 : Elf [ Wa:15 Ma:17 Th:11 ] Venom, lost little mini-lich vampsicle
05/20/13 : Elf [ Wa:15 Ma:17 Th:11 ] Venom, Ghastly Demi-Lich!
10-31-13 : Hel [       Ma:10       ] Venom, Foul Demi-Lich of Lost.
12-03-13 : Hel [     Al'Shaitan    ] Venom, Dark Blood-Letter and Demi-Lich of the Lost
02-11-15 : Hel [ Wa:30 Th:30 Ma:30 ] Venom, Progeny of the Ancients.
09/08/15 : Hel [     Fangs R Us    ] Venom.                    *Kindred*

Character History:

meme by Samiyah, art from 'Order of the Stick'

(2nd place prize winner in the April 2013 Character History Writing Contest)

The Demi-Lich let the stream of rare gems flow like sand from one delicate palm to the other, eyeing the beautiful blonde girl carefully. The cheeks of her bottom bounced lightly as she went about her chores, cleaning and dusting the already pristine study hall. He contemplated ravishing the young girl and devouring her youth but he had come to know that patience is a virtue and there were still more chores to be done. He wasn't going to invest magic in a charm spell and not have the chores done. He focused his attention back on the gems, allowing them to flow like grains of sand back to the other hand again. They were of the finest quality, cut by the master jewelers of Thistlerock. Only the highest quality gems could be used for the spell he was preparing to transport himself to the realm of the Gods. He went over his plan again in his mind, step for step... it was flawless. The Gods would have no choice but to obey his commands. He glanced around his study hall casually, checking to be sure every single article and item had a place and was in it. Nothing had moved in this study hall for nearly a century but double checking had been such a habit as a mortal that it had stayed with him even after he successfully transformed himself into his current form. Half human and half lich, he had the eternal life and powers of a lich while maintaining the dashing good looks of an aristocratic human. He had everything any mortal could have ever wanted... wealth, power, good looks and eternal life. Not being one to believe in foolish fairy tales of such things as love or friendship, he had set his sights on something much bigger to assert his place in history. He was determined to become a God himself.

The sun was shining bright on Midgaard when the Demi-Lich set foot onto the cobblestone walk way from his tower to the main road. Normally walking to a place would be considered beneath him but he knew he would need to conserve his magical powers for the long night ahead and so today he would walk. The sun was too bright and he instinctively raised his hand to shade his eyes but to no avail, his spell of invisibility would not allow even a shadow to be cast. He thought briefly about spending some of his power to dim the sun with a rain cloud but settled for squinting instead, the walk would not be a long one. There were no feelings of nostalgia as he strode through the old back streets where he grew up as a boy and no feelings of comfort normally associated with being home. The Demi-Lich had only one thought as his gaze darted about the scenery, "Soon every living spec in this wretched place will worship me, or die!"

The Guildmaster nervously watched the sunset, his lamps and candles already lit. Although he was anxiously expecting company he barred all of the doors and windows on the first floor of the guild. This would never keep out the one he was expecting of course, but it would ensure they were not interrupted. He pondered leaving one window open in case his magic failed and he needed to run for his life but decided against the idea. He had too much riding on this meeting for failure. He paced for a few minutes as nightfall overcame the city. Not wanting to allow his nerves to get the best of him he decided to sit in his favorite chair. Seemingly the moment his robes touched the seat all of the candles and lamps flickered out, leaving him in darkness. He uttered the secret words to bring light back into the room magically but his magic failed. A chill in the air spread over him and panic set in. He was not familiar with the darkness, nor being cold, nor his magic failing him. Fear over-rid his common sense and he called out into the oblivion before him, "Enough of this! I have done all you have asked!" A voice echoed from all directions, "Where are the vials old man?" The Guildmaster stood and fumbled about in the darkness, reaching behind the counter to a cabinet below and producing from it a case of glass vials. Feeling with his hands he blindly set the case on the countertop and opened the lid. Inside stood upright 6 glass vials filled with various enchanted liquids, hundreds of hours of intensive labor had gone into their creation.

"There, you have what you sought. Will you release my daughter now as you said?" A moment passed in silence and the Guildmaster reached out to close the lid on the case of vials, thinking to perhaps make another attempt at bargaining, but as he reached out his hand found no lid and indeed no case. The silence was deafening. The Guildmaster had no cards left to play and feared for the first time since her abduction that he would never see her again. His emotions overcame him and he sobbed, alone in the dark.

The corpse of the dead girl had almost finished leaking onto floor, he had simply left it there as he worked to prepare his spell. A large book lay open on a tall stand, displaying the words of the spell he had written in case he needed to glance at them as he cast. A magical symbol of protection had been painted on the floor beneath him to guard him as he made his journey. In the hollowed out skull of a dragon he poured in the first vial, mixing it with the dust of his ground gems. Violating the barrier that protected the realm of the Gods from mortal intrusion was no small task and required immense concentration and a perfect casting. The spell had never been tested and was his own creation, but he had every confidence in the magic of it. He stirred the components with a wand and gestured with his free hand. Glancing at his book he began chanting the words of magic. The remaining vials hovered above the skull, taking turns emptying themselves in as the spell took shape. The walls of the room began to crumble to dust, exposing a black unending space behind them. In moments the entire room had fallen to nothing and darkness extended forever in all directions, leaving only the Demi-Lich and a piece of floor beneath him where the symbol had been painted. The Demi-Lich lurched as he was over come with the sensation of movement... It was working!

The Gods sat around their massive meeting room, each upon a throne of their own design. The God of all Gods was unseen even to the eyes of immortals but his presence was felt by all. Knowing all of both past and present, the Gods were expecting company. They were not the type to be taken by surprise.

In the center of the room, where the Gods allowed a weakness to form in their magic for the purpose of setting examples a poof of smoke billowed out of nothing. As it dissipated the form of a man became visible. He was dressed in fine clothing for a mortal and was perfectly clean. His soul on the other hand was tainted, twisted, rotten and dark. This was an unnatural thing on the inside. The so called Demi-Lich raised his head to the Gods and spoke, "I have come before you with an ultimatum, Gods! I have achieved the power to destroy the realm itself and leave nothing for you to rule over. Make me a God and give me a place by your sides, or I shall reduce all you have created to dust." The Gods looked upon each other smiling with amusement. A voice filled the room, the God of all Gods, "From dust the realm was created, to dust it will return. Your threat is both idle and inevitable." A great flash of light filled the room and the Demi-Lich fell to the floor, lifeless. "Gods of the realm," a voice boomed, "This creature has been rendered powerless, his vanity must not go unpunished. I leave it to you to teach him humility."

"We must strip him of his magic, his body and cut his thread. Make him to be born anew."
"Yes.. I agree. For his life long hatred of Elves, we will rebirth him an Elf"
"His name must be stripped from all history books, so as not to encourage others."
"No. His name must be stripped from all of history itself, as though he never was."
"Yes. I agree. I suggest we allow him to remember his past life, so that our lesson will be learned"
"What if he should follow the same path again?"
"We will set conditions and make them known to him. Each time he achieves power, if he should attempt these things again, he will be forced to relive his curse."

Venom stands in his own vomit, wavering nauseously, covered from head to toe in a disgusting liquid. He feels his body, it appears to be fully developed though thin. Glancing around he recognizes his setting, this is the temple of Malenest. What could he possibly be doing here? He searches for his last memory and recalls hearing the voices of the Gods warning him about his story, warning him not to tell it to others and warning him about the minions that will come if he does. He tries to remember who he is but the only memories that come are those leading up to his casting of a very powerful spell. He tries to recall his name, but only the name Venom comes to mind...unfamiliar but it will have to do. What the &$*@( is this?? He feels his ears, POINTED.. NO! He searches his mind for spells... GONE!! Panic and anger mix and stir inside him, he tries desperately to calm himself by taking several deep breaths. He may have forgotten all his skills and spells but he still recalls all his knowledge of the realm. The Gods be damned he will regain his power and impose his will on them. With determination he sets out toward the guild hall, first the donation pit, then the world.


The magical potion floats innocently above the cauldron in the darkness. The room bare, no doors, no windows, no furniture. The only way in or out being magical this room is not known to any mortal. The potion floats calmly in the still air, held up only by a memory. Magical weaving beneath the potion created only from the memory of a man shudders and shakes as the wave of God-Magic sweeps the realm. As the last memory of the Demi-Lich is erased, the potion falls into the cauldron below. Instantly the liquid in the cauldron begins to boiled and glow a bright red. The room fills with heat and red light. A hissing sound vibrates the walls and the ceiling groans and threatens to give way. A simple red seed levitates up out of the cauldron, glowing red and setting the room on fire. A good Demi-Lich always has a "plan B". The seed vanishes, making its way to Malenest... bringing with it all the evil, hatred and cruelty that was the Demi-Lich. Heading directly for the soul of Venom.


Your gaze pans the height and breadth of what seems at first glance
to be a regular elven adventurer when your eyes catch some rather
odd details. His clothing and equipment are immaculately clean and
rather polished, discretely bearing the runes of magical enchantment.
Something is also a bit different in his posture, he stands very
stout and proper as though a high classed mannerism were natural.
His eyes are unsettling, both glow an intense red. His skin is
a dark grey ashen color and appears dry and crusty. Dark circles
under his eyes sink down his face, producing a ghastly look of death.
This is in fact not a regular elf at all, this is the Demi-Lich.
Venom is in perfect health.
Venom is using:
<worn around neck> (Moderate magic) the mantle of an ancient octopus
<worn on head> (Moderate magic) a fitted black leather mask
<held> a net

Cordir says, '..and wearing just octopus parts and a mask is.. uh..'.
Cordir says, 'deviantly creeply. '.
Cordir says, 'just sayin'.

Venom laughs.
Venom nods.

10/15/2020: Samiyah's Dream

The dream, when it comes, creeps in slowly like a predator stalking prey. The colors are stark, monochrome. Black trees silhouetted against a night sky lit with terrible clarity by an achingly full, unquiet moon. The witnessing stars are brilliant gems, heavy and present. In the distance, the keep rises up into the sky; cold, silent. Even the omnipresent shuffling and voices from the nearby fires are subdued, as if the ragged band of mortals huddled around them knows that this night, Death walks.

The winging of an owl towards the oak draws the eye there. It alights on one of three monuments. No, not three, two: Easily mistaken for a statue, he stands so still, a half-elf, broad of shoulder and proud of mien, stands beside the newer of the two. His hands are at his side as he stares at the marker, fists clenched such that the claws sink into skin, making black blood paint the violets underfoot. No words are spoken aloud; they are not needed in this moment. She knows.

One hand lifts and with a twist of one claw, undoes each of button of his leather vest. A shrug of his shoulders and it falls unheeded. Not bothering to draw it over his head, he simply slices through the fine cambric of his shirt, letting it flutter down join its fellow. Boots are shucked. Belt unclasped. Leather pants, carefully tailored to cup and display, are peeled down and discarded. His body is bared – but without his normal preening pride – save for the two signets upon his hands and Her claiming scars upon his throat. His skin glows like alabaster lit from within, as if painted by the light of the moon. Turning his face up towards its caress, his face is finally exposed, terrible in its bereft grief.

A breath. A shudder. A howl, torn from his viscera, fades into a single, ragged word: 'Star.'.

Kneeling abruptly, the movement almost a collapse, he begins to dig into the soft loam, fingers and claws tearing rents in the earth. The work continues silent save for rasping breaths, until he throws himself down. Staring up at that terrible moon, he makes an abrupt gesture, and the earth flows back into place, burying him at Her feet.

In time, the night-sounds return: creatures rustling the leaves of the oak, the squeaks and songs of the bats. In time, the sun rises. But the world will never be the same again.



a crimson leather vest, befitting a Ventrue

(Written by Cordir)

Long Description: Crimson leather was used to craft this vest, befitting one of Ventrue lineage.
Worn Description: <worn on body>      (Powerful magic) a crimson leather vest, befitting a Ventrue

Look VEST:
The lines of this elegant vest were designed to draw the feminine eye, 
accentuating the breadth of masculine shoulders, the expanse of chest, 
the long, lean line to waist, drawing the eye downward. A deep scarlet 
in hue, the top-grain leather mutely invites inquisitive touch. Proper 
and sophisticated, this garment was obviously made for one who expects 
the absolute best of all that the world has to offer.

the black masquerade mask of the Nosferatu

Long Description: A black mask writhing in shadows nearby beckons your attention.
Worn Description: <worn on head>      (Potent magic) the black masquerade mask of the Nosferatu

a ring twice given from Eldest to Progeny

(Written by Cordir)

Long Description: A ancient, masculine band of pure, moonlit silver lies here, heavy with history.
Worn Description: <worn on finger>    (Artifact magic) a ring twice given from Eldest to Progeny 

The night is cold, the still air holding a deep, bone-wracking chill, the full 
moon a blaze in the heavens above. All of the details are crystalline.  Nary a
sound is audible in the marble halls of the Temples, as you stand just outside
the Cave, waiting. Knowing.  This is the time.  Your sapphire eyes close, head
tilting back.  A whisper, not of movement but of light, as - even through your
closed eyes - you see the intensity of his aura as he steps up behind you. Yet
it is not the moment of agony when his fangs pierce your throat, or the nectar
of his blood when you drink from his wrist that burns in memory every time you
recall the night of your dark Rebirth. It is the firm clasp of his hand aiding
you to rise when you awaken and the respect in his gaze as he bids you welcome 
to your new life, your new home, and your new purpose.

Khore's crimson eyes are more shadowed than usual, his absences longer, his 
silences deeper. You are not alone in the Kindred in seeing it.  Twice, the
purges have occured: Lesser members released, until only the devoted remain,
only those who have named the strengths and weaknesses accepted to ease his
burden. At your last meeting, he draws a signet ring from his hand and lays 
it in yours, with not a word spoken aloud, but a clear message given. Yours
will be the responsibility to keep the Kindred solidarity more than just an
old story told at fireside. Others may bear the blood, but it falls to you,
to maintain its honor. 

The furious child you made a lifetime ago screams in the anguish and pain
that you knew your taunting words would cause. You chuckle inside, easily
imagining the sand-goat's torment as she hears her sister's tale of hurt,
and name Samiyah the true cause of the girl's pain.  Fists balling at her
side, she snarls in anger, baring her fangs.  Your hand flies in response
to such impudence, cracking across her cheek. Her response is as violent:
Leaping upon you, her fangs tear your flesh, savaging your throat.  Shock
strikes you to your core and you stagger away, barely escaping to the one
place you know to be truly safe. Feeling your life slipping away, it is a
surprise when you hear the voice of the Eldest and feel his hand pressing
against your lips, the richness of his ancient blood sweeping away mortal
life and granting you - or damning you - to Eternity. 

This ring was ancient before the third continent arose. Crafted in bloody
Sanguinna itself, the work of the Ogre-Mage, for centuries, it graced the
hand of the youngest son of Ybarra and Vlad.  At his passing into shadow, 
it was gifted to one held in his highest regard. 

(Bloody) razor-sharp claws of a Kindred

(Written by Cordir)

Long Description: A set of wicked, curved talons lay here, awash in the blood of the innocent.
Worn Description: <wielded>           (Invis) (Potent magic) (Bloody) razor-sharp claws of a Kindred

When the still of the night is a weight of its own, and the sable shroud of 
the sky is barren of the moon, this is the time of the Kindred. Ancient and
proud, theirs is a tradition that spans back the Ages. Born of the blood of
Khore, they have been the name that mothers frightened their children with,
the cause of mourning widows and children, the reason priests sanctified a
cross above each doorway. Predators, seducers, forces of the dark passions
and arts, the Kindred make a weapon of their body, their mind, and spirit.
This set of ivory talons bear a coating of blood along their length, having
torn flesh from bone, blood from body, and spirit from shell. 

The talons of a Kindred can be a weapon of violence, tearing flesh from 
bone, blood from body, and spirit from shell. They can be a tool of the
sweetest seduction, drawing a trembling response when traced along skin,
eliciting a gasp of pleasure, before all is surrendered.  Both are just 
as deadly, and the one who bears these talons has drawn blood for pain,
and for pleasure, in equal measure, and with the same cold intent. 

(Unholy) the mark of 'Al-Shaitan'

(Written by Cordir)

Long Description: Proudly endured, an unholy, demonic mark has been burned into the skin of the bearer.

The word inscribed upon the flesh of the bearer has complex meaning in the 
language of the tribal desert: a foe spawned straight from hell, worst-of-
worst... that which must be opposed to the last breath and drop of blood.
This is a clear and unwavering declaration: of self, of intent, of a line 
drawn in the sand.

The fiery heat of the desert stretches before you, as a lone mage faces a 
Veil of wind and sand that has stood for thousands of years. A bargain is
offered and accepted, a sacrifice made to stave off the threatened wrath,
and a girl-child cast out into the world. She is caught up, deceived and
Embraced, and made into a living weapon and trap both... all in vengeance
sworn and delivered against the one foolish enough to oppose him. All, in
what is simply an opening move upon the board, the sliding of a pawn into

Wiki References

Player Provided Information:

Every story needs a villain, and oh, my, Venom is a villain. I'll admit; While I had seen hints, here and there - rare flashes in the pan - over the years that his player could RP, I was pleasantly surprised at the depth of the effort he has put into Venom. From back-story to consistency and plot twists that frankly 'knocked me for six' as Ghazkull would say, I have been impressed. While I hate to see him on the WHO list... I also love to as well, because I know he's plotting and planning Something Awful and Sami will get to Meddle and try and save the day.

Venom for me, has become this era of TFC's Rath. Like Samiyah I hate seeing his name in the who list, as it means I seriously need to start watching my step, although some might argue that if you see him in the who list, it's already too late. Venom's player has a vast amount of knowledge of the MUD and he uses the knowledge effectively to perform his evil machinations.

Cordir asks, 'is Venom threatening you?'.

Theros chuckles, evidently amused.
Theros says (in common), 'Was Venom ever not threatening anyone?'.

Cordir makes a gesture of concession.

Personal Timeline:

03/11/2013: Venom Charms Verminard
04/02/2013: Venom Charms Sycora. He also wins a 20 minute game of Cat & Mouse.
10/15/2013: After Jamilla and Samiyah enter the Tribal Sands and retrieve his phylactery, and what lies within is released by Seraph, Venom is reborn.
12/04/2013: Venom is Ordained by DarkClaw.
02/09/2015: Venom reaches effective 50!
07/25/2015: Venom requests, and is granted, release from the Lost.

Player Information: