The Temple Between.pdf

The Temple Between
APPENDIX II: ZITHIRUUN,
THE BROKEN GENERAL
ONCE, HE REIGNED SUPREME.
General Zithiruun was a great hero—one of the
most respected military leaders of a militant race.
From the great city of Tu’narath, he led armies of the
githyanki on raids across the Astral Sea, and into a
dozen different regions and kingdoms of the mortal
realm. From the deck of the astral galleon Siun’kara
or the back of Rathoraiax, his great red dragon steed,
Zithiruun proved an unstoppable force—a champion
among a race of champions. Even Vlaakith, the
fearsome githyanki lich queen, acknowledged his
greatness, heaped great praise upon him.
And then the great General Zithiruun took on a
foe beyond even his own prowess.
That it was a dragon, a dragon far greater than
Rathoraiax, everyone knows, but tales of the confrontation
differ as to whether it was a black wyrm,
one of the fearsome scourge dragons, or something
else entirely. But while not everyone knows precisely
what it was Zithiruun faced, everyone knows what
happened as a result.
A hideous burst of something—acid, perhaps, or
pure necrotic energy—ripped the life from the red
dragon Rathoraiax, shredding flesh and obliterating
entire portions of the beast. And it was this attack
that felled Zithiruun as well. It stripped the strength
from his limbs, rotted bits of flesh and even weakened
bone. Any lesser warrior would have died in that hideous
moment, but the general clung to life through
sheer force of stubborn, malignant will.
It took years for Zithiruun to retrain and reinvigorate
his broken body. Even today, he is a shadow of
what he once was—weaker in body, far less sound in
mind. His own people have all but turned their backs
on him; though his great achievements prevented them
from executing or exiling him utterly, they scorn his
weakness and hold him in contempt for allowing himself
and his mount to be so soundly defeated. Today,
Zithiruun serves as a lowly operative of Tu’narath’s
forces and he leads only lesser warriors into battle
while answering to and obeying githyanki who would
once have feared even to speak in his presence.
Zithiruun’s native powers have mutated through
his years of effort as he attempted to reinvigorate
his body at the expense of his mental prowess. The
ambition all githyanki share has been subsumed by
a burning need to prove himself and to regain the
position and the respect that were once his by right—
even as he nurses a resentful hatred of the very people
whose adulation he so desperately craves.
Appearance
Zithiruun has been large for a githyanki, but since the
destruction and atrophy of much of his musculature,
he now appears almost impossibly tall and gaunt.
Mixed with and attached to the traditional leathers of
his people, he wears a contraption of braces and harnesses,
constructed of leather straps and iron joints.
These braces, supported at his shoulders and by a strap
across his chest, run the length of his left arm and left
leg, as well as a portion of his right leg. It is the straps
that give those limbs rigidity; without them, they could
scarcely move, and not support his weight. This harness
also grants him full mobility; charged with both
magic and psychic energy, it permits him motion and
grants him strength he would otherwise lack.
His flesh clings tightly to his skeleton and puckers
away from old wounds, exposing muscle and even
charred bone. His left cheek gapes open, revealing
a bit of metal plate that replaces a fragment of skull.
A leather strap holds the left side of his jaw in place,
replacing obliterated muscle.
He appears weak indeed, and in some ways he
truly is. Yet Zithiruun wields his great silver saber
with an astonishing, impossible precision, and his
eyes burn with loathing and ambition to shame even
the other githyanki.
December 2008 |
69
DUNGEON 161