Lakini

Background
My early life is unimportant, save to say that I was born into an influential family and thus aquired my enrollment into the Arcane Academy at Bael Grindom. There, truly, lay my formative years. Walking the echoing halls of stone, the air filled with the sing-song of ritual incantations and the smells of alchemical solutions. Feasting nightly on exotic foods from across the Vale. Sleeping in a communal room whose lines of beds bear the sufferance of Acolytes' failed attempts to master the Arcane Arts. Schooled in a variety of mundane skills and hypocritical morality, I quickly became disinterested in the boorish teachings of my Masters.

It took years of research and practice until I was able to cast the ritual needed to overcome the warding spells placed upon the Masters' library. Within I found a treasure trove of knowledge. Within I found Tenebrous.

Within an alcove, resting on a pedestal of white marble lay a tome and a rod. The tomb held the knowledge of the Drow Warlock Tenebrous, killed by a now deceased Master of the school. I secreted the tome and rod to my bed. For weeks I lay at night reading the dark journal of Tenebrous and his journey to aquire forbidden magics. This was what I sought, this was true power. I left the school, never to return.

Outside the walls of Bael Grindom, below a moonless sky I swore my soul to the same dark powers that fueled the magics of Tenebrous. Using the rod of Tenebrous I swore the oaths of blood.

Now a piece of my own soul lies within the Pact Rod of Tenebrous, alongside his own. Now his secrets are mine, for he tells them to me.