Beric Bleming

THE ACCOUNT OF THE WRAITH

Crawling across the false firmament of nightmares like small smoke climbing on nigh like signals to heaven, or somewhere more sinister, a wraith was birthed from some hot, fiery hell-connected vent deep beneath waters which even mortals have not dared to tread. And like immaterial wind drifted across sands and rock, mountains and grass. To linger for eons amid the Pre-Cambrian forests of Terra. He has been seen as a foe. He has been seen as a hero. A martyr. Like the Elementals, he too reincarnates himself. But true form, a wraith of her womb. Of his mightiest feats, he placed himself in the body of a Rock elemental, to fight his way through the hordes of warlords, thieves, mercenaries and rogues alike in the ancient games of "The Wild Hunt", a tradition made by the Galactic Warlords Guild to test the most cunning and strong denizens of this plane. And like the sun his victory rode high above the earth, displaying it's celestial trophy to all creatures great and small across the Earth. He now resides as the form of a humble monk- In solitude he studies the ancient arts of natural and visual magick; of spiritual alchemy and the great darkness of the void. He's just fucking sick dude.