Mad Martigan - Malaclypse

I should have known. This latest party Fezzik and I crashed was truly strange. I started the night drinking stolen Bloody Martins from Jhan (not my favorite place) and some punk dumped Fezzik and I into a rift. Desert in the middle of the day (lots and lots of sun) is not nearly as much fun as some make it out to be. We staggered our way back to Discordia and on the way to the tavern Fezzik jovially pushed me into Dara and then I floated into the Altar. The impact was slight but I felt a strong tugging sensation and was sucked into somewhere else.

The surroundings were odd, but seemed very familiar, as if I were home for the first time. I was introduced to two very strange fellows; Hagbard (who is very quiet) and Malaclypse (who doesn't stop talking). Malaclypse continued to spew strange ass quotes and things I could barely comprehend in my drunken state. As I reflect it is likely I wouldn't have understood half of them had I been sober six days. His association to the chaos god Eris became plain and as I explored with him the purpose of Eris and her chosen I became enthralled. I had found my place in the world. If I was to serve, as I was born to, at the least I could spend my energy taking apart that which my races masters had put together.

It wasn't that easy of course. My association with Fezzik caused some heart burn. But my spluttering prayers were heard and Eris intereceded with Malaclypse on my behalf. A POEE Brute was born.

Am I happy? Not really. Being a Brute gives me strength. Being a Discordian gives me purpose. But when I sober I having continuing thoughts of hatred for those who created and enslaved my kind... and come to think of it I don't really like those of my kind all that much.... generally cringing self loathing weak creatures who difuse into oblivion because they can't handle being free. Our Shadowmyrk brethren may have it right... take the war to the Drow and keep a sense of purpose... and avoid the pull of deaths call. Ah hell.... I need a drink.