Verolax the Decayed
Prime human witch of Kyuss [she/her] / sectol of the Plaguebearers / CE Possibly a Proxy of Kyuss?
The de facto leader of the Plaguebearers is Verolax the Decayed, a being of such sickly disposition that she makes a ghoul look like a picture of health. Let me tell you, she’s no garden variety cutter. She started out as a prime, a human who had the bad luck – or was it a twisted kind of fortune? – to fall into the planes through a portal that should have known better than to open for her. You know how primes are, all starry-eyed and naive, thinking they can just waltz in and out of Sigil like it’s a day at the fair. Well, the multiverse had different plans for young Verolax.
In her early days in the planes, she got entangled with all sorts of dark powers, tempted and drawn in by the whisperings of Kyuss from the depth of his Abyssal prison. It didn’t take long before Verolax was knee-deep in the dark arts, steeped in forbidden knowledge that twisted her body and mind. Over time, that naïve little prime girl got lost, twisted into a figure of pure dedication to the grotesque and the macabre. She dived into the darkness, headlong and unafraid, absorbing knowledge forbidden to most. Her flesh started to betray her, rotting away to reveal a horrific visage of decay that would give even the hardiest of Doomguards pause. But don’t let her appearance fool you, because beneath the exterior of a walking corpse lies a mind sharp as a razor, and with a cunning that could give the fiends a run for their jink.
Now, she’s the one holding the reins in the Iron Fortress of Wormblood, commanding respect and fear in equal measures. Picture her, cutter: half-rotted away but with a fire in her eyes that says she’s seen the end of worlds and come out the other side with a grim kind of determination. She’s become a visionary with a silver tongue belies her withered form. She’s able to bend the most stubborn wills to her diseased desires, weaving words of power that convince others to walk the path of the Plaguebearers, to worship the Worm that Walks with a fervour that borders on fanaticism.
Verolax spends her days concocting vile diseases in the belly of the Iron Fortress, steering the Plaguebearers towards the day they can release their god from his prison. She’s got the charisma of a top-tier bard, if that bard was singing hymns to the apocalypse, mesmerizing others with her dark dreams of a world swallowed by worms and disease.
But it ain’t just poems and pandemics for Verolax, not by a long shot. The Iron Fortress is a place of chaos and betrayal, and the Plaguebearers a constant struggle of power with factions breaking and reforming with each passing day. Our lady of decay has to navigate a complex dance of alliances and backstabbing, a precarious balancing act where one misstep could see her toppled from her throne of bones and rot.
So there you have it, cutter, the twisted tale of Verolax the Decayed, a lady shaped by the planes themselves, a beacon of decay in a world gone mad. Keep your distance if you cross her path, because Verolax ain’t the sort to play nice with those who ain’t sworn to the Worm that Walks. Stay sharp, berk, and remember, the planes are no place for the faint of heart.
Source: Jon Winter-Holt, mimir.net
