Fire, Darkness, Death and Doom.  All these fates were
written in the stars the day that Pazuzu was born.  "Destiny is what
one makes of themselves", his greatest Mentor once told him, "Fate
is what can never be escaped, only survived."
       His fate always lay heavily over him and nothing he did was
not marred by the knowledge that it would not last.  For the
majority of his childhood he had survived as one of the Street
Urchins racing through the back alleys of Astaria.  The Shadows of
Starkeep providing a cool resting place in which to hide from the
sun.  He knew, as one might know they were to be tall or strong,
that one day he would be powerful.  Little things like how Mikel's
hound would shie away and whine when ever he came near.  The story
of how he came into his power is a long one and would fill volumes
so let us set it aside and deal with what he did once he had begun
his second Journey of Power.
       It is often said by sooth sayers and priests that he Dark
Path to power is both easier and more seductive though in the end
less fruitful.  Pazuzu knew otherwise.  Power is Power.  Dark or
Light mean nothing to a Master Mage.  His chosen Path was Dark and
filled with dread.  Though at times he wondered if he had chosen the
Path or it had chosen him.  Using the tricks and incantations
learned over years of study he vanquished innumerable foes until he
ststood Second to the Highest Mage in Astaria.  Lord Scythe,
Stormbringer, Slayer of the Necromancer and Founder of Tiger Clan.
Only He stood Higher and Only to Scythe did Pazuzu pay homage within
his Chosen Guild.  Those were the Golden Days of his Youth within
the Guild.  He fought along side trusted friends against unknown
foes.  "Thompson Inc." was a feared Party within the realm.
       He met and married a Lady of the Greatest Caliber.  Lady
Elanor was his delight and rare was the occasion when they were not
seen together.  His Dark Heart was balanced by her kindness and
gentle ways and his fires kept her warm when the world grew cold.
       And Cold indeed did the World become.  Many Clans existed
during that time and Looming over all like unto a Storm Cloud lay
Clan Darkness. Pazuzu while a follower of the Dark Lady herself did
not hold to the Methods which Clan Darkness espoused.  To his Honor
he held dear and to his Clan he put all his efforts.  Clan Tiger had
grown weary due to the prolonged Absense of Scythe Stormbringer and
though Mighty in individuals there was little focus or direction to
the Clan.  One Day upon one of his vvery infrequent visits to the
Realm Scythe Stormbringer Dignified Pazuzu to the Rank of Overlord
and thus did the Rebirth of the Tiger begin.  Many were the trials
and hardships that Pazuzu did endure to forge the Clan anew.
Betrayals from within and pressures from without all worked against
this herculean task.  In the End though Clan Tiger stood Strong
among the Clans of Astaria and all who beheld the Abode stood
awestruck
*****
      Pazuzu though had by this time expended much of his personal
reserves of power.  Time as Guild Master and Overlord and all the
Tragedys that he had survived had very nearly brought him low.  Dear
friends and secret companions tried thier best to sooth his psyche
but it was to no good end.  His turmoil caused by personal relations
and public strife would give him no rest and each week brought him
closer to extinction.  Seeking deep within himself he felt he knew a
way in which to regain that which he had used up in an attempt to
better the Realm at large.  His Arcane skills and Powers had begun
to wane but his Mental prowess remained sharp and expansive.  It
took some time and many spells but finally he was ready.
       On a moonless night when all good folk were sound asleep
Pazuzu began the greatest spell of his career.  The Chants that
flowed out of his mouth began in his soul and merged with the Ether
of which all is made.  A prayer to Xeraphena and one last look at
the World which had brought him both Joy and Despair and it was
over.  His flesh began to Harden, his eyes began to Dim.  The World
slowly faded away ... and yet by a supreeme effort of will just
before all faded into Darkness his mind broke free and began it's
search.
       In a timeless place between Thought and action Pazuzu's
intellect searched for the Simulacrum that he had prepared.  Upon
finding that Body laying upon it's slab of cold marble the final
concious act was taken by the Archmage Pazuzu,  he joined with it
allowing his intellect to live on while his body lay dormant within
the Pantheon of Heroes.   Thus was the Psionic powers of Kalchas
awakened.  And yet in a cosmic joke or perhaps something more subtle
the God Artrimas reached forth and pulled upon the Soul within the
Body of Kalchas drawing him towards the light.  Pazuzu's mind
rebelled against the White Light of Artrimas and he fell dormant.  A
new personality was born.  A free willed Kalchas with no knowledge
of the Dark heritage that lay within him.  This confused and
slightly unstable individual wandered the realms for days fighting
from instinct and often experiencing that which is commonly called
Deja Vu.  Always he sought answers to his personal mystery and a
solution to the misery he felt from time to time.  It was his
tormented soul that called to the healing hands of a Lady Cleric.
And it was she who eased his burden, healed his wounds and for a
time he was happy again
       The story of Kalchas though not as long as Pazuzu's is not
for this place either and should be told by another.  It is best we
continue on to the time of the Re-Awakening
*****
       Pazuzu regained conciousness only slightly before the Fall
of the Old Astaria.  He was confused by what was happening and by
the time that had passed.  All too soon though the World came to an
end and Kalchas's body succumbed to the catastrophic forces brought
against the Realm.  Again only through the force of his Will was he
spared destruction.  Now though it was not his will alone but the
merged and melded wills of Kalchas and his own.  Strange to feel
compasion for the week.  How odd to need companionship.  How
dreadful not to enjoy the slaughter of one's foes.  And still it
could not be changed so it must be endured.  After a short time
there was a pull upon the formless mass of Thought that was Pazuzu's
drifting intellect.  Somehow in the Chaos his body had survived and
revived from his Arcane slumber.  As his intellect drew near though
he noticed that many things had changed.  His finely formed elven
features were gone and now his body had the form and size of an
Aldonian Giant.  And yet is was still his body.  Slowly the mind
melded with the body and finally were as one again.
       Pazuzu sat up in the ruins of his statue in the Pantheon of
Heroes.  All around him he could sense life and rebirth.  To half of
him it felt right and good.  And to half of him it was a challenge
to overcome and a chance to regain his power.  Astaria had been
reborn and all manner of creature wandered the realm.  Pazuzu was
known to some but totally unknown to others.  It was an interesting
time with interesting obstacles to his Quest for Power.  Now though
the affairs of this life task Pazuzu again.  His chosen Destiny
balked by his weakened state and the trials of living with a divided
intellect he ponders the world around him trying to decide upon a
new destiny to follow.
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