Vhalrix the Pale-Drawn
Maw-Tender; Keeper of the Mire; Voice of the Silent End Vhalrix , the Pale-Drawn
An emaciated revenant who oversees the Mire of Unmaking and its rituals of decomposition. Silent and shrouded, they rarely speak except to give final rites.
Physical Description
Special abilities
- Rot-Sovereignty: Vhalrix can command decompositional forces—wilting flesh, rotting armor, rusting metal—with a wave of their skeletal hand.
- Swampwalk: Wherever they step, the ground softens, blackens, and seeps. They can vanish into or rise from the swamp at will.
- Mireborn Call: With a silent breath, Vhalrix can summon slumbering husks from beneath the Bonebank or Mire to serve in the Dominion’s name.
- Final Sight: By pressing a desiccated hand to the forehead of the dying, Vhalrix can show them visions of their decay and destiny.
Personality Characteristics
Representation & Legacy
Vhalrix is silent, stoic, and revered with both awe and dread. Unlike some Hollow Council members who grasp for political power, Vhalrix seeks only to uphold the sacred transformation that rot promises. Some believe they were once a noble or priest long ago who drowned themselves to escape a great shame—reborn by the Mire into this sacred form. Their loyalty lies not with Daerion directly, but with the land’s necrotic will.
Even among the Hollow Council, few call upon Vhalrix lightly. When they rise from the swamp and attend council, the scent of death thickens—and something in the wood of Blackroot Spire seems to weep.
Social
Contacts & Relations
Vhalrix presides over the Mire of Unmaking, guiding its rituals of dissolution, transformation, and rebirth through rot. They officiate the Final Communion—a rite where the dead are returned to the swamp to be unmade and potentially reborn as Mireborn. It is said Vhalrix can command the waters of memory and ruin with but a gesture, calling drowned husks to rise in silent defense of the Thornveil.
Though they seldom speak, when Vhalrix does, their voice emerges like a chorus of decaying throats—wet, rattling, and layered with voices long dead. Only during The Drowning Moon, a rare night festival of rot and renewal, do they publicly chant the rites of the Unmaker in full, dissolving dozens of corpses into the mire in one sweeping invocation.
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