The Grey Dust — Roleplayer Guild

The sands stirred. Rising within its glass cage, the hourglass flowed backwards in time. Deep within the bowels of the earth, the Last Emir coiled himself upon his throne of hardened sand. There he ruled in the center of his stolid chambers, the high domed ceiling depicting the might of Persia as a memory of the past. Lit by torches and candlelight, the darkness reigned over the twisting passages to the laboratory, training room and master chambers found even deeper into the descent. It was constructed to house Roshan, beneath the Tower, close at hand upon a leash. It was here where time reversed itself, just as the sands in the hourglass turned back upon themselves, that the light of today would never reach into the bowels of history. There, his golden mask hid his face replacing his visage with nothing more than a solemn foreboding as it caught the light of the dim fires. His red eyes narrowed at the doorway into his chambers, his senses feeling the footsteps of his visitor and the scent of the man.

"A guessssssst. Sssseeeking audiencssssse, enter and sssssspeak..." Roshan hissed his words as his serpentine tongue flicked out between the thin opening of his mask. They had tried in the past to use more advanced methods of communications with Roshan, yet a cellphone, let alone a phone was deemed incompatible with the old naga. He had destroyed them in his inability to grasp their magic, the function of electricity was barely beginning to register for the anachronistic being, let alone how to use it. And so stuck in the past, the Hounds had retained him for his usefulness for he made various alchemic potions with fascinating effects and the ability to absorb memories of the devoured was also a nice boon. Yet he knew the real reason why they built him this feeble palace, and kept him in line with their threats to unseal the other one, for had they not intervened, he would rise to take the desert nations and reclaim his rightful throne...

It was not long after the message was delivered. did Roshan rise from his throne, his golden scales moving like lava as they unwound and snapped. The sands too did rise as his throne crumbled away into their basic elements, and provided their king with a path to thread upon. He was bound to the desert sands, and as such, could only travel if he carried sand with him. Thus he ascended into the Tower from beneath the ominous metal hatch which marked a descent into his lair, his army of sand close at hand as it cycled itself like a conveyor belt through the corridors of the Tower. The halls would fill with sand, halls of metal, glass and plastics, halls he found to be distasteful, halls lit by phantom fires.

Roshan opened the portcullis, the two steel doors pried upon as his sand slipped between their cracks and like a building flood widen them to their point of providing entry. The sands then rose into their platform as Roshan slithered in to the elevator shaft, twisting his serpentine body around the cables and ascending to the third floor with every turn. He was amused as to why these humans made these, small rooms which were lifted, in lieu of stairs, their cables alone would have provided adequate means of ascending to a higher floor. There he found the conference room marked 345B, a familiar room, though each time he found himself slightly more furious at the thought of being summoned like a dog to heel. The others would be able to tell of his arrival by the creeping sand which invaded the room beneath the doorway, before it swung open. With merely a glance to the others in the room, Roshan and his sand made his way over past the other chairs and with a tightening grip upon his staff, did he make his throne of hardened sand once more, the message after all did state to take a seat, and so he did take a seat with him.

chuckling to himself, Roshan studied the others, their scents clean unlike his own scent of dry desert sand.

Name: Roshan of the Endless Sands, The First Roshan – “Roshan” (His name is actually a title.)

Appearance:

Roshan [+]

Roshan has long forsaken his humanity, in his apotheosis he has become a Naga. His legs fused into a long powerful tail with a second set of arms. The black-gold colour scheme of his regalia suggests his affluence and auspicious lineage, which plays with his overall appearance as an exotic desert creature. He conceals his visage to the public eye, remaining faceless and stoic to his moniker: a voice with a face as barren as the desert sands.

Age: 2134 (Yes, he is ancient.)
Gender: Male
Corps: Cerberus

Roshan's Tale [+]

Bio: Roshan was once a mere mortal. Long before the age of nations, he commanded the hordes of Persia under the Parthian Empire. Roshan was the vizier of the emir, a man who hid beneath a golden mask as a dark figure in the desert king’s court, and a shadow administrator of the empire. It was here did he gain power through military might, having risen through the ranks in their plight against Rome, he had conquered and hungered for more. Some fled from him to avoid the pain that he brought, but others flocked to him for his twisted charisma. His thirst for blood and war had drove him to study the mystic arts, delving into a debauchery of esoteric and arcane beliefs. It drove him mad, as he believed in conversing with unseen forces, the spirits of long dead legends, and his own apotheosis to become a god. Fuelled by the visions of his own glory, soon Roshan desired to solidify his coils around the throne, and reign as emir in the light of the burning desert sun, yet to do this was treason and would take planning. As such, he developed his serpentine cult, brainwashing his twisted followers like his dogs with pleasures of flesh and hunt. In his madness and megalomania, he had even selected a protégé to carry on his legacy as his own Roshan. With the intrigue of the court, he had set in motion another war during Pax Romana, pulling the strings to incite his path in usurping the throne. It would have worked too, had it not been the unforeseen betrayal of his protégé who had learned all too well from Roshan. In the fall of his plot, an invading Roman army killed the emir and though however briefly he was emir, he too was captured and immolated through the desert before the very dogs he had trained to devour flesh ultimately ate him alive.

History had forgotten him, scratched out was his name through the records of the empires though his cult lived on. An imposter had replaced him, to take on his guise with golden mask, yet unknown to the world in his dying breath with a howl of terrifyingly mad laughter did Roshan curse the desert with his blood. He rose as a vengeful shade, as spirit of the desert with a grudge to reclaim his place. Yet without a corporeal body, he could only manifest his vengeance through a vessel. Once again he would take under his shadow a protégé, this time however he would find a true follower in the child sorcerer who ultimately became the Third Roshan. It was under the guidance of the First Roshan, did the Third overthrow the Impostor, The Second Roshan: Roshan of the False Face. For in his death and long meditation through the desert sand, the First Roshan had learned of his own foolishness to raise another being to be exactly like him, a lesson repeated as the Second took the Third. With the rise of his magical flesh puppet, Roshan the First, had effectively cursed his namesake with the endless cycle.

The Third Roshan became known as the Roshan of the Unending Darkness. This Roshan fully learned the black arts and moved the cult into the tunnels beneath the desert dunes. To which he had done so to serve the First in twisting his cult even further into the madness of Roshan. As a spirit, the First Roshan watched his cult flourished under the guidance of his second protégé. Having extended his lifespan beyond that of a mortal man through magical means, the Third had achieved immortality by virtue of his powers. It was this immortality, which the First envied, another betrayal of his tutelage as his second student learned to fear the fate of the predecessors. To such, Roshan spent seven hundred thirty eight years as merely a shadow of his shadow self, trapped in the world as a spirit bound to the desert sand. And for seven hundred thirty eight years, Roshan began to plot, gathering his ghostly powers to infiltrate the dark corners of the dreams men had, gaining a skill of memory absorption.

It was only after the Fourth Roshan, the Roshan of the Eternal Stone, rose to power by sealing away his former mentor, the Sorcerer, was the First ultimately reborn. Drawing upon the life force and magical prowess of the entrapped Third, the fourth created a powerful alchemic artifact which he used to create Homunculi which would serve to be his method of immortality as his master refused to grant him the secrets to the Third’s immortality. The Fourth was forced to renew his aging body by transferring his consciousness into the blank Homunculi. As such, he created dozens of Homunculi including one particular body, which was the supernatural naga he had planned to use as the ultimate body to become known as the Serpent. This plan was delayed by the rebellion of his own protégé the Fifth Roshan, who would be known as Roshan of the Infinite Waves. The Fifth Roshan caused a schism in the cult in the latter half of the 20th century as the age of modernity made it much more profitable to manipulate the world through the global market and technology than age-old methods by the Roshans past.

The feud between the Fourth and Fifth was employed by the First, who had influenced the descent of the Fifth into rebellion, haunting the boy’s toughts to flee from the desert sands and turn to the profit of the market. In the course of their infighting, the Fourth summoned the shade from the sands using arts long forgotten. Their deal would eliminate the Fifth, but more importantly, end the cycle of Roshan killing Roshan as the First ripped the memories of the Fourth and absorbed them into his own as his new Naga body tore the Fourth into pieces before dining upon the Fifth and all other cultists thereafter. Hence, the cycle was completed, five skins were shed, and a new form was taken or so the legends of the Five Roshans speak.

Yet the world was strange to Roshan, who had merely became a watcher to the events of history unfold, gleaning of knowledge of the world outside his patch of desert sand by the memories of his cultists he absorbed. The world he had known did not stand still, the age of empires blew into dust, and now nations bickered like children. The throne of Persia was long gone, and now he was truly a god. There was one weakness he had however: the Third Roshan. It was destiny and fate for there to only be One, and should the Third be unsealed from the stone sarcophagus, the Sorcerer would destroy the First. It was through this exploit did the First come into service of the Hounds was under the ‘Act of Supernatural’. When the Hounds discovered him as an active threat, they had sent Black dogs and Hellhounds after him, and soon discovered this fear as they utilized their custody of the sealed sarcophagus obtained through the lives of their agents and their memories. With this blackmail, they forced the last Great Emir of Old, to kneel before their Majesty.

A being as old as he, and as experienced in serving the crown knew better than to die now and forever. And as he graciously accepted becoming a "Royal Hound," to keep his new life, he has served with all intents of finding a method to kill his immortal Third. For this reason, he has kept in the dark, using draconian methods to glean information from his targets for the sake of resentment towards his role.

Personality: Roshan is a slippery individual who speaks with a voice of honeyed poison. His malicious mind is sadistically twisted and revels in dark humor in his own sense of justice. Though being dead for a millennia has largely influenced the degradation of his psyche, Roshan is able to maintain a façade of cordiality, regality and at times sanity. Though it is a fine line between reality and his disillusioned version of it, the memories of others he has absorbed has also greatly damaged his mental state should he drop the act. Furthermore Roshan prefers to deal with animals above people, animals are trainable whilst people are a different story. He still retains his old mask and staff as the final touches of his grasp of his shattered reality which died with him long ago.

Skills: Roshan has not lifted a weapon in ages, yet war does not change, merely their weapons do. Though he is proficient with a sword and his staff; he is out of touch with the technological advances of the contemporary era and regards his repeating crossbow to be an ingenious use of technology. Firearms are foreign to him, yet fire is not. He is best suited to support and tactics than vanguarding. Yet do not underestimate his abilities, he may surprise you yet with his deadly toxins and poisons, his knowledge of anatomy and physiology, and his alchemic abilities to produce miraculous cures out of his Predecessors stone.

As a Naga, Roshan is physically more capable than a mere human. His speed flows like molten lava, his serpentine body slithering swiftly around the target while four arms make quick work of anything else. His senses are far superior being able to sense heat, detect smells, and even the vibrations of your heart through the earth. His scales are hardened like steel plates. Another frightening aspect is Roshan’s magical abilities tapped in from the memories of his Predecessor, let alone the ability to absorb the memories of beings he consumes which lends to his "cannibalistic" tendencies. He can command the forces of the desert channeling into his old staff. He can call forth the sand to do his will, create mirages to disguise his true form, and summon forth the desert wind.

Gear/Weapons: A repeating crossbow (zhuge nu), A silvered Damascus steel blade and his ancient Vizier’s Crook-staff. His ancient Vizier’s Mask, Scale Mail to cover the non-serptine parts of his body, and fashionable desert cloak.

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