The marching off of the half-orc necessitated a festering eye from Torus, as Brannor soon came into view. The arms of the green barbarian swang intentionally as if directing the one man choir in preparation of a rehearsed dirge. The exchange of their spoils and labor signified a likely melodious arrangement and exchange of the very instruments to compose the eventual opus of their escape with the monk and paladin. 

Back and forth from the tent and the garbage islet, piling the discarded organs and useless skins. 

It was a monumental testament to his historic dedication against the nature he had promised and became accustomed to, when stranded on that island, before Xaron, that spiteful pirate entered his existence. Her mother, a much wanted Waterdhavian psionic Bard, while unknowingly ten weeks with child, Suri Tiram, once discovered as a spy of the Kraken Society, quickly earned the expectant wrath of two councils of the Amnian government. The silently orchestrated bounty was issued by dual competing bureaucratic Houses, that of Selemchant and Nashivaar, to either extract or destroy her previously publicized musical concerti of psychopathic cryptography, complex social magical experiments that subconsciously inflicted mass hysteria in Daranthur’s Hall and Waukeen’s Promenade, ceasing trade for one month, critically paralyzing the commerce of Athkatla. These crafty fractal ballads, wormed their self-replicating patterns, via auditory intrusion, into a person’s synapses, literally establishing a revolutionary serenade that greedy neurons must recursively dance to, all the while spiritually evoking a graveyard spiral of anger, hatred, and disgust within the rat race and status-quo of the slums and docks. Her propaganda dedicated itself as her ciliary obsession, to mathematically and mentally sway the proletariat to a civil upheaval via verbally broadcasted multivariate symphonies. Once authentically exposed, Suri’s intervening capture and exhaustive interrogation resulted in an eventual brain-dead body kept pregnant with a half-elf fetus until term, only to allow the powers at be to mentally reap and rape unhindered any and every rebellious diapason from her desecrated soul.

Her sole birthed offspring, Xaron, was reared chiefly under the Cowled Wizards, in the arcane arts, fissured by the natural talent of a psionic and poetic heritage, crescendoed by her love of all-mighty gold. Cultivated in the ranks, beneath Jann Lane, her malicious appetite and equally poised hatred of the City of Splendors consumed the already decimated cognizance of her mother’s eccrine legacy, as she aspired into adulthood. A shouldered distrust and a ravenously taxed heart, buried in a film of ruby sin and ice, isolated her as a shattered jewel, unable to be polished nor shine within the confines of the City of Coin. Ruminations, rumors, and a remnant of prestige forced her onto the Trackless Sea and along the Sword Coast, upon many vessels, marauding principally Waterdeep ships, pillaging, torturing and slaughtering, seeking to bask in the infamy of reflective appellations from the Council of Five, whenever she returned home. 

Yet, not all shared the bated enthusiasm of the daughter of a traitor.

After a miscalculation and bad weather, the Iron Flute marooned at Port Nyranzaru, only to be betrayed and exiled into the jungle of Chult, attempting to seek refuge at Beluarian. Soon enough, mindful scavengers, namely brain flukes, unearthed the lost troop in their immersions, eventually resulting in her trusted crew becoming glorified incubators of opportunistic corrosion and putrefaction. Witnessing the rot and corpses slowly surrounding their camp, with her own mental faculties collapsing around her, Xaron sought intellectual sanctuary by impressing upon a young wild Mezro druid, Torus, the totality of her psyche. A partially successful [i]Mind Seed[/i] of the parasite-ridden psionic, one week later, erupted a new older, but partly amnesic man, full of the horror and memories of her recurrent twisted ego. 

Through five decades of masochistic pedagogy, the novel duplicate, through the help of these friends, engendered a Vesuvian vision to exist as a pure antithesis to her previous id’s villainous ancestry, now mingling amongst the fateful servants to the largest adversary, the realm would likely ever face. 

This righteous legitimate suffering now drove Torus.

[i]Rather Torag.[/i]

[i]Slightly off kilter.[/i]

Even his very identity hidden, for half a century prior, bred a new race of Jungian penance to the current gospel of sacrificing wildlife to the altar of subterfuge; a remorseful ministry, wandering from Greenest to enemy encampment, finally anchored by the peace, granted by Chauntea with Xaron, to fill his psychological gaps. Yet, would this goddess who granted him amnesty of his fugue, discredit this spiritual salve based on the necessary pain of the few, to save the many. 

He stood, leaning on his fang while watching the interaction of Parum and the acolyte Davis, waiting to needle reconciliation with Orchid, Parum and Kyra, ever fearful that his deranged and demented past of his previously adopted voracious perspective would not be betrayed by his acts of slaughter upon the animals to whom he ingratiated.

[Hider=Effects]
Torus is fearfully gripped with the sudden realization that he is assisting in killing animals, in whom Chauntea's dominion reigns. He hopes her previous blessing through Kyra's tutor will not falter, while they pursue this ruse, compromising in efforts to free Leosin and Brannor.
[/Hider]

[@Hekazu][@Ryonara]