Drake Vhassaris

Drake Vhassaris is a human champion fighter. He is currently residing in the Bastion of Thradima

Fighting Style
Drake fights with a longsword and kiteshield, while equipped with heavy armour. He fights with the duellist fighting style, and recieved training as a Champion in one of Vragate's military academies. He is also a recognized heavy armour master.

Magical Equipment
Drake possess a few magic items, including a pair of Eyes of Charming.

Murder of Prince Harrin Isselsteel
Drake Vhassaris was awoken by a frantic Mykal. “What is wrong with you?” Drake said as he shifted in his sleeping bag. “You need to see this, quickly!” Mykal urged Drake, as he made his way back out of the tent. Drake groaned, and got out of his sleeping bag. He put on his leather vest and his sword belt. As he was tying his cloak to his armor, Mykal stepped back in. “You coming?” he asked urgently. Drake shot Mykal a death stare, finishing the knot on his cloak and walking out of the tent. “What?” Drake asked him. Mykal ran forward without a word, passing by a guard on his way back to his tent. Drake stopped him and asked, “Switching watch posts?” The guard looked at him and said, “Ser Harrin sent me back to my tent, as he did with the other guards watching the forest.” He continued on, leaving a puzzled Drake behind.

Drake caught up with Mykal, who was blabbering to himself, “I can’t find the Ser. Where did he go?” Drake grabbed Mykal by the shoulders. “You looking for Harrin? Try the forest.” Drake pointed out, as he made sense of what the guard told him, and why Mykal was looking for Harrin amongst the tents. They sneaked past the last tent and made their way to the tree line. Careful not to make any noise, Drake led Mykal to where they fought the undead soldiers. A faint glow of blue light could be seen coming from the trees where the axe was still lodged in the soil. “Look,” Drake whispered, as he pointed at the blue light. They changed their positions to look at what was making the light, and as they got a better angle, they saw Ser Harrin speaking to a floating blue translucent figure. The figure was wearing a jagged crown, with a torn and ragged cloak shrouding its entire body. It floated above one of the undead Mykal had slain. “No,” Drake uttered in disbelief. He sneaked forward until he came in eavesdropping distance. Mykal stayed behind, too dumbfounded to even move.

“…they will all be yours,” Harrin said. The figure raised its head, as if it was thinking about what Harrin just said. The latter appeared impatient, looking around, hand on his sword. “Make sure they march through the ruins. You will wield the power of a necromancer before you even know it,” the glowing figure said, in a raspy, slow tone. Harrin bowed his head, drew his sword, and stabbed at the body beneath the figure, which disappeared the moment the sword made contact with the body. Drake crept down into the shadows, as did Mykal, while Harrin walked past them. As he emerged into the light of the camp torches, Drake and Mykal ran out of the trees. “Stop right there bastard!” Drake yelled drawing his sword.

Harrin stopped dead in his tracks and spun around, wide eyed and bewildered. “What!?” he yelled in disbelief. “What do you know? How can you prove it?” Harrin blurted out at them. Drake raised his voice so that the soldiers in the tents could hear him, “You’re going to sell us all to the lich in return for necromancy!” Drake yelled. Mykal quivered, both hands holding his short sword pointed at Harrin. Soldiers could be seen coming out of their tents, observing the scene before their eyes. Byran was running towards them, sword drawn, dodging soldiers and tent lines in his path.

Harrin tensed his hands, and arched his back. “You know nothing of power and the sacrifice it brings!” he screamed. Drake charged forward as Harrin raised his left arm, yelling words of power and directing his hand at Drake. A blue sphere of pure lightning shot out from his arm, which Drake sidestepped in the nick of time. Mykal, however, did not see the sphere coming, hitting him in his chest, falling back with the force of the sphere. Mykal screamed out in pain, clutching at his chest as he writhed on the ground, twitching and yelling in agony. Drake lunged forward with his sword as he came in range, making contact with Harrin’s chest plate. The eldritch knight was knocked back, and as Drake was about to deliver the finishing blow, Byran intervened, parrying Drake’s swing. “Stand down Drake!” Byran yelled, sworn to protect the king’s son in right or wrong. Harrin stood up as the tall soldier and his advisor took a few steps back. “This is not your fight old man!” Harrin said, spinning around at him. Purple energy shot out from the knight’s arm, throwing Byran back a couple of feet through the air until he landed with a loud thud. He did not even move as he lay on the ground.

Drake saw this as an opportunity to strike at Harrin, quickly swinging down at his neck, but the eldritch knight was quick enough to dodge the attack and draw his sword. Harrin’s reflexes were faster than Drake’s, swinging at Drake as soon as his sword was out. Drake yelled in surprise, putting his sword up just in time to parry the knight’s attack. Lunging out with his free left arm, Drake managed to punch Harrin in the jaw, who grunted and stepped back. As Drake was about to swing again, Harrin quickly stepped into Drake’s reach and took hold of the larger soldier by the neck. Energy surged through his arm, flowing through Drake’s skull, who was now stunned and gritting his teeth. “This. Is. True. Power.” Harrin spat in Drake’s face, tightening his grip on the soldier’s jaw. Drake mustered up enough strength to strike out with his knee, and hit the knight below the belt. “Bastard!” Harrin yelled letting go of Drake, cowering down.

Drake caught his breath, and brought his sword up above him with great effort. Harrin fell on his knees and brought his sword up as well, deflecting Drake’s weak attack. But as Harrin was on his knees, Drake quickly raised his sword again, pointing it at Harrin. Drake yelled, and brought the sword down with all his might, driving it into the knight’s neck, past his collar bones and down into his torso. Harrin went stiff, and blood spurted from his mouth and neck, trying to cry out in pain, eyes wide and bulging. Drake breathed heavily, tightening his grip around his sword, twisting it and driving it deeper. He drew the sword out, and stepped back, as the body of the king’s son remained on its knees. Drake looked back at his now dead friend Mykal, yelled, and swung his sword at Harrin’s neck, taking his head clean off with one powerful strike.

The soldiers back at the tents stared on in disbelief. None were dressed in their armor, and only a few had their swords with them. Byran came to his senses, and sat up. He saw Ser Harrin’s head roll down towards the forest. Total silence swept through the air, until Byran yelled, “Treason! Treason! Kill the traitor!” as he scrambled to his feet. Some of the soldiers ran back inside their tent to get their equipment, while a handful started down the hill towards Drake.

Drake cursed, sheathed his sword, and ran as fast as he could towards the forest behind him, running over Mykal’s dead body. “You are avenged brother. I am sorry. Rest,” he muttered, as he bent down and reached towards Mykal’s neck, taking hold of his necklace, snapping it as he continued running into the forest. He held up the crystal that was attached to the silver lace, which glowed in the night, providing a dim light. Stepping over tree roots and running past trees, Drake continued into the darkness of the night, led only by the light emanating from his dead friend’s necklace.

Torches lit the forest as the Vragate soldiers searched for Drake, however he was long gone, travelling west towards Wisym Tower, while the soldiers looked deeper into the forest through the night, towards Caer Milio.

Escape from Vragate
Drake spent some time wandering the Desolation of Amhuulaesh, after which it is believed he headed to Eowilimar from where he purchased passage on a ship bound for Knolm Island where he lived for a couple of years before relocating to Glummore where he found a job in a tavern