Player Name: Valyr, better known as Kitan
Name: Melcari Velsai
Race: Quarter Elf
Melcari might have looked like a simple man, had his life taken a different course. He has short, dark brown hair, a working man’s beard, and his eyes, now covered by a blindfold, were once a dull brown. Melcari is tall and has a reasonable amount of muscle born from intense training.
His life conspired to send him down a different road. Rather than becoming a heavy lifting farmer, Melcari wields his quarterstaff in a red gloved hand. While on duty he wears a full set of guard armor, helmet included. Because he does not need his eyes in the slightest, the visor has been filled in for added safety. The effect is mildly creepy, as one must wonder what lies beneath the mask that does not require sight.
As to his person, he doesn’t take after his half-elven parent much. In addition to his beard, his ears are only barely pointed. His frame is clearly that of a wider-set human’s and he walks with no exceptional grace. On examination, one might catch his exotic facial features, but if the blindfold is overlooked you would think him fully human if you looked through a crowd.
He still wears his blindfold when off duty. It is constructed from a firm brown leather and is thin enough to be worn under his helmet. When not wearing armor, he tends to wear plain clothes. The battlemage is often a fashion disaster due to his inability to perceive color.
Steel Quarterstaff: Treated by the justice hall’s mysterious techniques, this is a short, solid length of steel. The rod has weighted bands at both ends for bashing people. It has two tiny rubies set on each tip. They emit a small amount of light.
Buckler Shield: A solid yet light shield, ideal for parrying sword strikes and blocking arrows. It is light enough that he can move it quickly, and small enough that he can two hand his quarterstaff if necessary.
Emergency Dagger: Sheathed at his belt in the unlikely event that his staff is disarmed. He is trained with it and keeps it with him as much as able. He does, however, remove it when praying.
Battlemage Armor: He has a full set of armor, helmet included. His armor is unique in that the helmet’s visor has been reinforced such that it is impossible to see out of it. Melcari needs not his eyes.
Home: In the residential district, as with many battlemages. It was provided to him by a Marn pastor, though the unfortunate holy man did not know it would end up occupied by a battlemage. Melcari’s home lacks many commodities other homes commonly have, including objects such as books and mirrors.
Powers or Strengths:
Weaponry: A buckler shield and a quarterstaff. The staff operates as a focus for his magic, but that doesn’t make it fun to get hit in the face with. It is solid steel, heavy, and dangerous. Melcari is quite adept at utilizing it to full effect. Don’t underestimate the hand with the buckler either: nothing says he can’t bash that into an unfortunate face as well. In general, he is strong, talented, and well trained with this weapon.
Unarmed: He sees nothing wrong with kicking and head butting people who try to fight him. He’s highly adept at unarmed combat and integrating it with his regular fighting style, often when an enemy gets close enough that his staff becomes impractical.
Endurance: He is very much a fit specimen thanks to his non-magical training. He is capable of taking hits and staying in physically stressful situations for extended durations.
Disruption: Melcari’s distrust of magic has, ironically enough, manifested itself in his own. Melcari can generate a field of anti-magic from tip of his staff. He can also generate a field from his hands, feet, and head, but without his staff the radius is widely reduced. The field is spherical, creates a blurry effect comparable to a heat wave, and has a roughly six foot maximum radius. The maximum radius his hands can create is two feet. All his other body parts generate a maximum of one foot. Without his staff, all distances are halved and he can only dampen rather than null magic without it.
If a mage enters the anti-magic field, their capacity to cast is reduced greatly depending on what proportion of the mage is within the field. If they are completely engulfed in it, most magic users will find themselves completely unable to cast. It would take an abnormally powerful mage to overcome the null, and they would still find their powers drastically lessened. An inhumanly powerful source of magic could break the null outright. It won’t kill magical beings, but it might shut down their movement, slow their thoughts, or cause them extensive pain depending on the particular way they rely on magic.
Melcari is not immune to his own anti-magic, and so usually creates a smaller field with the center at the tip of his staff. By this method, he can hit hostile spells out of the air without limiting his vision. If an exploding fireball or similar spell requires him to be completely engulfed by the anti-magic field, he will be rendered almost completely blind. Additionally, while the field is active, he cannot throw bolts from or through any afflicted area.
Sight: Melcari has had his eyes permanently destroyed. He instead navigates by using a magical pseudo-sight which allows him complete awareness of everything that occurs 360 degrees around his body for 25 feet in all directions. The downsides to his sight are that he cannot distinguish colors, shades, light, anything beyond thirty feet, or even read, unless the writing has significant indentation (such as on a carved tavern sign.) He can also see magic, enabling him to see through invisibility and some illusion effects. To some degree, he can see magic in those around him, but weaker mages will usually pass as “potentials.”
To deal with those disadvantages, he usually requisitions the help of a guard or citizen for navigation and general aid. He also carries the buckler shield to help compensate for the natural disadvantage against ranged attacks this gives him.
Bolts: He can sling small bolts of magic by swinging his staff rapidly through the air. They look like a four pointed stars of crimson light and are a few inches wide. They detonate slightly on impact, inverting their curves into a red pulse. These are never fatal on their own and only useful for stunning a fleeing or distracted target. They move a bit more slowly than an arrow and can be dodged with mild ease if the target sees them coming, but he can fire them off as rapidly as he can swing his staff in full arcs. He can also cast them from his hands as long as he is carrying the staff, but they are slightly slower.
Weaknesses and Flaws:
Blind: As specified above, Melcari lacks the use of his eyes for mundane purposes. He is totally incapable of seeing outside the 25 ft radius. Everything is dark to him beyond that limit. This makes Melcari exceptionally vulnerable to ranged attackers, since he is effectively incapable of defending at that distance. If an opponent attacks from the shield side and Melcari is expecting the attack, he might block it, but otherwise he’ll have to rely on his armor.
As mentioned above, Melcari cannot notice differences in color, light, or minor indentation, preventing him from noticing a wide range of objects in his surroundings the average person could. He cannot take navigational directions in anything other than a step by step format and can get lost very easily when on his own, both of which stem from his inability to seek tall structures for reference.
Reliance on Staff: His staff is more or less the focus of his magic, thanks to his childlike image of mages. Without it, his “sight” extends barely three feet when he focuses and his magic disrupting abilities are severely weakened. He is incapable of flinging bolts, and his melee bolts are so weak as to be less powerful than if he had merely punched them.
Puradyne: As a puradyne, Melcari is fully convinced that both he and the other battlemages have sacrificed their souls. He’ll try to live up to puradyne doctrine. Teonidus bless him, he’ll try. But the control of the battlemages is strict and the punishment for failure harsh. He is repeatedly forced to break the moral codes of his own religion, to the point of relying on magic just to see the world, and the emotional weight of such actions are gradually chipping away at his mental state.
On a more practical level, he’ll often refrain from holding his quarterstaff when at home or praying at the temple. It would make an ideal time to assassinate him, though it is important to note he’s not totally helpless when blind, at least when it comes to melee. Much of his training is preformed without his sight, a fact he readily embraces because it means spending less time relying on magic.
Desperately Trying to see the Good in Fellow Battlemages: He wants to believe his side is in the right. He spent his whole childhood believing in the nobility of the guard and the heroic sacrifice of the battlemages. The reality is difficult for him to face. Though there are a select few even he has no hope for, on the whole Melcari will focus on whatever redeeming traits he can find in his allies while doing his best to repress his knowledge their failings.
Self Loathing: Part and parcel of being a puradyne and a battlemage, Melcari isn’t a very big fan of himself. Despite the orders from above, he views his own villainies as no one’s fault but his own. He tends to value the opinions of others above his own, particularly if said person is viewed as benevolent and nonmagical. With the exception of a select few specific topics, he will generally value the opinions of others over his own.
Leashed: Like most battlemages, his life can be ended at any moment by certain figures in power. Unlike many battlemages, he is uniquely likely to do something he perceives as moral over his orders. Handled well, he can be a valuable tool, but handled poorly, he can become a rogue element that must be done away with. Granted, he is still less likely to perish in this manner than the less sane battlemages.
Restless Leg Syndrome: Whenever Melcari gets nervous, he gets restless leg syndrome. If he has no other obvious reason to be nervous and is sitting down, those who know him may find it an effective means of telling when he is lying.
Hospitalized Father: His father, Kadir, is in a permanent listless state in the hospital, the result of a head wound taken on the road to Marn. Melcari has chosen to keep him alive, despite it being fairly clear he is little more than a husk at this point. The hospital is not a structure one fortifies. Kadir would make an easy target.
Father: Kadir Velsai
Step Mother: Ipek Velsai
Pastor: Sallen Meero
Kadir Velsai was a failure. He was a jeweler, but not a great one. He was a citizen of Madaal, but a Puradyne. He was a Puradyne, but he had fallen in love with a half elf and had been all but exiled from his church. He was a father, but he had never wanted to be. The product of that love had taken form in the shape of Melcari.
His mother was offered a position by the government of Madaal while Meclari was still a baby. The community suspected it was because she was a mage, but never could prove it. Perhaps she wanted to escape the intolerant community. Perhaps she saw the effects of gaining starting to creep upon her lover. Perhaps she was afraid of motherhood. Whatever her reasons, she accepted.
Never again was she seen by Kadir. Heartbroken and devastated, the Puradynes preyed upon his doubts and drew him back to the faith. As Melcari grew and began to attend, they began to doubt their choice: surely the faith of one man was not worth bringing his little abomination to church.
Only one woman thought differently. Her name was Ipek, and she alone showed sympathy to Kadir and his child. She thought it noble of him to raise the boy as if he were a human, and was too young and carefree to worry about the scandal of his past love. Despite the gap in their years, Kadir and Ipek eventually grew in affection to the point where they married.
The community resented their love. Ipek had been a promising young woman, a talented painter and dedicated Puradyne. Eventually they considered leaving the community, at first entertaining notions of fleeing to Kheltaris. Recent waves of anti-puradyne sentiment and the large quantity of nonhumans that lived their dissuaded them, as did the competition either of their crafts would be forced to face.
Eventually their pastor recommended a large Puradyne town further east. It was possible that he just wished that Kadir and Melcari ceased troubling his society, but the recommendation was a good one: having received influence from Marn, it was a more racially accepting community without actually being exceptionally diverse itself.
Sacrifice being a core tenant of Puradyne philosophy, Kadir was willing to interpret his pastor’s guidance as divine mandate to aid Melcari by leaving behind the place of his birth, the one and only home. Ipek was initially reluctant to leave it all behind, but eventually, if grudgingly, consented.
Melcari’s earliest memories are from the back of the wagon which took them down the road. Ipek and Kadir were having a quiet argument in the front of the wagon as he dangled his feet out the back. It was the first time that Ipek would argue that Melcari was a toxic influence upon them: though it was not put in such direct terms, Kadir became concerned that she blamed Melcari for their self imposed exile.
As they acclimated to the new community, her arguments were buried beneath a tide of new responsibilities. For a time, the whole family was able to pretend everything was okay.
Their new pastor was a welcoming man who had kept regular contact with Marn officials. He went by the name Sallen and oversaw the strong puradyne community of Sensun. Seeing the benefits of human, elf, and gnome coexistence on the technical field in Marn, he was happy to welcome the Velsai family into the area, eager to use Melcari to familiarize the locals with demihumans. While he was at times too forward and intrusive, he gradually earned the family’s trust as a dependable, if eccentric, friend.
Melcari in particular was drawn to the faith. He was quick to prove Sallen’s points accurate: displaying no magical aptitude and a deeply personal belief in Teonidus, Melcari soon became living proof of Sallen’s kindly wisdom for the rest of the Puradynes. Melcari never missed a beat, always proved his faith, and there were many faithful, responsible people who came to accept the elf-blooded boy as one of their own.
He thrived on that acceptance, perhaps picking up on the subtle undercurrent of rejection at home. His troubles had resurfaced over the years, with his mother getting homesick and blaming Melcari for her loss. Kadir felt like he was being forced to pick and choose who to give his love to, and slowly but surely turned to drinking to avoid confrontation and choice. He too, felt loss. He began to build an ideal image of the half elf he had loved so long ago and held Ipek to an imagined standard that she could never fulfill.
Compounding the issue was the government of Madaal, which had recently instituted a tax which targeted certain religions that fell outside of a select few state-backed ones. Puradynism was one of the communities unfairly targeted, and despite the high number of Puradynes in Sensun they yet remained a minority. Other laws were also passed that reduced their civil rights, creating unequal opportunities in the market and reducing their weight in courts.
Needless to say, the stress of these new pressures drove the Velsai family into a state closely resembling madness. Melcari spent so much time away from home many new Puradynes thought he was Sallen’s son. What time he did spend with his family was spent dodging Ipek’s dour moods and hoping his father hadn’t drunk too much. When sober, Kadir would at least make an effort to shout down Ipek whenever she attempted to abuse Melcari. The abuse usually took the form of emotional assault, calling out Melcari’s heritage as incompatible with his puradyne faith, but every once in a while when Kadir was too drunk to remember anything she would beat him.
Melcari believed in sacrifice. For the sake of his father’s mental stability, he would tell his father that the other children had left his bruises. Often he would label the non-Puradynes as the culprits. With the legal backing the other boys had been given, he was even sometimes telling the truth.
When one of those boys threw a rock through the window of the Velsai storefront, it was the final straw. Between all the payments they were forced to make and abuse they had suffered at the hands of the government, they would not be able to last. The threat of poverty loomed and became a more daunting foe by the day.
Sallen, now invested in the Velsai’s matters through Melcari, has a suggestion for them. Having long told his community of the values of Marn, Sallen was quite convinced the family could find a life there, free from oppression and injustice. He had informed a puradyne pastor in Marn of the family’s plight, and that pastor had informed Sallen of living quarters he could arrange for them. Sallen suggested moving to Marn and promoted its noble, unflinching puradyne values.
Melcari, having listened to Sallen’s thoughts on the matter many times, was convinced almost immediately. He kept his thoughts to himself as Sallen won over his father. Ipek’s reaction, however, was as immediate as it was opposed. She had uprooted her life for this useless child once. She was not about to do it again.
When she stormed out of the temple, Kadir was worried. Sallen and Melcari convinced him to lay his doubts to rest, assuring him that everything would change once they reached Marn. Sallen was convinced even Ipek could be happy there. Melcari wasn’t. The elf-blooded youth could guess what was to occur. He held his tongue, joyous at the chance.
Teonidus demanded sacrifice. It was one he was happy to give.
In five days the caravan left. It was a trading caravan of Puradynes who ferried goods between the faithful in Marn and east Eyropa, using the guarantee of non-magically created goods as their primary selling point. Ipek was gone, having fled in the opposite direction. Just about anyone could guess that she had gone back to her original home, with lies on her lips about her husband’s untimely death to disease. Nobody would care to ask about the elf-blooded bastard boy.
Kadir, perhaps deluding himself that their relationship might have lasted in Marn, at once made as if to cancel their plans and chase her. Melcari waited on the wagon at the back as he spoke softly to his reluctant father, reminding him of their doctrine: Sacrifice must be made. This was his.
Distraught, not knowing what else to do, Kadir returned to the caravan and joined his son. It rolled out of the community shortly after, Kadir’s legs hanging from the back just as Melcari’s had so many years ago.
As they travelled north through Ciasse along the trade route, Melcari began to grow worried about the possibility of encountering a shifter. He was reassured by the merchants that they were concentrated much further north and not likely to pose any threat. Indeed, they encountered no trouble during their time in Ciasse.
His father remained in the back during this period, staring listlessly off down the road. Melcari sought to cheer his father as they progressed, repeating to stories of Marn’s successes which Sallen had taught him. He enjoyed only modest successes, but at least kept his father from drinking overmuch.
The peace they had enjoyed within Eyropan borders did not remain for their stay in the Sooqui plains. One night with the empty wilderness all around them, a tortured scream suddenly echoed through the caravan. In the time it took for Melcari and Kadir to stand, a second yell followed the first. In the time it took them to attempt to leave the caravan, a spectral figure suddenly passed right through the tarp which covered the wagon.
The next thing Melcari knew, his father’s blood coated the creature’s claws. Stunned, he caught only a glimpse as the wraith excited the same way it had entered. The red liquid did not go with it, and splattered irregularly along the tarp as well as Melcari’s person.
He didn’t have time to catch Kadir, who hit his head on the wooden sides as he fell. As Melcari lunged for him in a frantic state of panic, more screams were heard outside. The monster was tearing them apart, and no weapon would hurt its intangible form.
They had just entered the latter half of the journey. For his father to die like this, so close to paradise... Melcari could not believe it. Would not believe it.
With a feral howl, Melcari dropped his father. It was over for him now, clear that Teonidus demanded he sacrifice everything. There was no way forwards but the road they strode upon. If the wraith blocked the path... it had to die.
Melcari, still not yet a man, reached to his right and ripped one of the tarp’s supports from its side. He felt a surge of power rush through him as he launched himself through the front of the cart. So splattered in blood was he that some might have thought a second beast had assaulted their carvan.
He saw the creature two carts ahead, off to the side of the road. It slashed a brave man’s chest open with nightmarish ebony claws, its shape a tattered robe of intangible flesh. One man fired a musket at the undead, but the pellet whirled right through its form. It screeched the noise louder than could possibly be natural. It was an unholy sound, to high pitched and loud to be natural.
As other men stood cowering or clutching their ears, Melcari charged the beast in madness, armed with only a length of wood. He found that by holding up his hand, the sound swirled about him and could not touch him.
Melcari’s voice answered the monster’s as he leapt forwards, screaming with fury and hate. The improvised club shot forwards and slammed into the wraith with a resounding crack. The pair tumbled from the air in a violent clash between the forces of the living and the dead. The monster screeched again, now not in hate, but in surprise and fear.
One of its serpentine claws was thrust at Melcari. Melcari was blinded by rage and did not see it coming. It found means to blind him more literally: within a second, he had lost the sight in his left eye. The two landed roughly on the rough ground, the beast finding itself unable to pass through it. Melcari landed half on the arm which had taken his eye.
Melcari saw its face with his one remaining eye. It was a monstrosity, a bleak skull half covered with pulsing, glowing red maggots. He did not care. He raised his fist and smashed it, breaking it apart irreparably. He raised his staff and jabbed it through its upper torso. The abomination was pinned as Melcari’s other arm slashed at its chest, ripping aside cloth until there was nothing left but the beast’s bleak, oily heart.
Melcari pulled the ribcage aside and, finding himself out of limbs to use, opened his jaw and ripped the desolate thing out of its chest with naught but his teeth. They screamed together, monster and man, for Melcari now could not tell the difference.
He was, after all, one of them. He was a mage.
As the men whispered, he ignored them. He crawled back to the wagon at the rear and cradled his father’s head on his lap before passing out.
When he awoke, he was at first surprised to find himself alive. This awareness was quickly followed by the horrible realization that everything, absolutely everything, had changed in some fundamental, horrible way. The world on his left side was changed. It was bleak and devoid of all color. It was not sight that his left eye now served for.
He saw his father bandaged before him, still breathing if only roughly.
It was magic on a fundamental level of his being. It had to stop. He once more leapt through the battered remains of the wagon. He grabbed the first pointed object he saw, an old kitchen knife, and rammed it through his left eye before anyone could stop him.
He blacked out again. This time he woke up on the roadside. It seemed none of them had been willing to kill their savior and had left him to starve instead.
Melcari opened his eyes. Both of them. He laughed. He laughed and laughed, and didn’t stop. He laughed because it had been useless: he could still see with that warped sight. It hurt in ways he couldn’t begin to describe, to own two senses where one should be.
Melcari staggered off down the road in what he was fairly certain was the right direction. He walked until he collapsed, then he got back up and did it again. The second time, he awoke slung across horseback. The pain from his dissonant eyes was incredible. He clutched at his face and closed his good eye, which dulled the pain for half a moment before resuming in its full power. He felt the horse rider’s hands on him and opened his eyes. There at his belt was the man’s utility knife.
Teonidus demands sacrifice. Melcari’s right eye was punctured by the knife, never to see again. This time he was not given the mercy of unconsciousness. He screamed the whole way to Marn, where he was treated at the hospital.
When he regained capacity for lucid thought, the world was dark to him. He realized for the first time, feeling at his bandaged palm, that he had held onto the wooden stick for the duration of his journey up until the horseman had found him. It made a horrible amount of sense to him, and was further proof of his own capacity for the arcane.
He asked the next person he heard enter the room to kill him. She not only refused, but had him restrained.
One of the merchants came through later to check up on Kadir, who had also been hospitalized. He recognized Melcari, and perhaps out of guilt directed the staff to the link between the boy and his father. Melcari was too stunned to point out the flaw in the man’s story, who claimed that Melcari had been lost during the wraith’s attack.
They brought Melcari to his father, but his father did not respond or react. Melcari assumed he was asleep and began fumbling around. The doctors held him back, still worried about his capacity for self harm.
Melcari spoke for the first time in days “A pole...” he mumbled. “Need a pole...”
The doctors shuffled around, fulfilling his apparently frivolous request. The basics of a staff were placed in his hands, and one of the doctors gasped. Melcari didn’t care though. His father was there, alive. Melcari could be certain of it, because he could see everything about Kadir at that moment. Melcari could see his heart beat from the inside of it. He could see his lungs collapse and expand, the bandaged gash upon his chest, everything.
He could just barely tell that his father’s eyes were open. “What’s...” Melcari struggled to say. “What’s wrong with him?”
None of the doctors answered. They had all left. Melcari eventually concluded that they must have known that he was blind, yet had noticed his father’s condition. He did not yet know what his eyes had become.
He dropped the pole, abruptly realizing what he had just done. It bounced several times across the hard floor. He had just used magic, and for a selfish end at that. He was among the damned. Melcari dropped to the floor in prayer. He would have wept, had he retained the ability.
A battlemage came to him later that day. Melcari had fallen asleep. The battlemage roused him and put him in chains. The youth turned his head down and went with him, begging Teonidus to hear him. Just before they left, Melcari dropped to his knees and begged the battlemage to see to his father’s continued safety. The battlemage stood still for a long moment, looking back. He turned back, removed his helmet, and looked Melcari in the eyes. He did not nod or speak a single word. But Melcari saw emotion in those eyes, every bit as rich as his own.
As Melcari began to ask for clarification, he found himself shoved roughly out the door. The battlemage placed his helmet back upon his head and led the boy to the Justice Hall. He was made to kneel before the mages by the battlemage, who pushed his hand roughly down upon the child’s back.
Melcari was made to tell his life’s tale. Thanks to his tireless puradyne faith, pre-existing idolization of Marn culture, and tragic story, a surprising amount wanted to be lenient on the boy. Some even advocated given him a license and being done with it, though the opposite extreme was also suggested. The battlemage stiffened at the final possibility offered: that Melcari would join him in the ranks of Marn.
Melcari looked up at the suggestion. Sallen had told him of the battlemages, idolizing their true dedication the Puradynism through the ultimate sacrifice. So that others would not turn to magic, they would damn their very souls in service to the city. If Melcari had learned nothing else over his journey, it was that Teonidus demanded sacrifice.
He leapt to the cause, shocking most of the judges present. The battlemage’s mouth dropped open. Melcari saw none of it, blind as he was, and stood resolute. He raised himself to one knee, a proud figure under great scrutiny.
He had sealed his fate. He soon put forth as a potential battlemage and subjected to rigorous testing. He broke several times, sobbing in hopelessness and agony, but always stood back up. His weaknesses and uses were identified, then mitigated or further augmented. He lost all life outside of his training, with the sole exception of occasional visits to his nonresponsive father.
When he hit the age of 24, it was time. Melcari was brought to Kaledin Manor. Battlemage Velsai left it.
Having missed the first riots in Marn, Melcari saw little combat initially. He instead focused on his training to distract himself from his great many issues, often going to the guard barracks to order multiple guardsmen to fight him at once. The only magic he would use for these trails was his sight, and he would often work until he was so exhausted that he simply collapsed upon being struck. He has developed a strange reputation among guardsmen for both this reason and the fact that one is often assigned to work alongside him, due to his perception difficulties.
When it became clear this process was self-destructive, he was ordered to cease. Melcari complied and gradually cooled off, though not to any truly notable degree.
When called to the defense of Marn and Puradyne ideology, he often struggled to reconcile his high minded ideals with his stated missions. At one point he had even brought back a target he had been ordered to kill back alive. The man was given a trial and sentenced to death shortly afterwards, and Melcari’s value in the eyes of the justice hall dropped.
He was reeducated on the importance of following orders exactly as given and has not repeated the mistake since. Those in power have gradually, if only slightly, acquiesced to his methods as a matter of pragmatism, usually by deploying him in situations in which capture is ideal. However, combat remains combat and orders remain orders. Melcari has ultimately been forced to use lethal force several times over the past twelve years. Each time, Melcari has desperately believed it was a necessary sacrifice.
His delusions of morality were further stretched through his interactions with the other battlemages. In many ways, he came to see each one as he saw himself. By that, it can be surmised that he views them as good people forced to do bad things. When he saw a battlemage beat a prisoner, he attempted to weep for the broken soul with his slashed eyes. Surely the man was just attempting to deal with the stress, or worried about damnation. Melcari occasionally believed he had even come close to letting loose such impulses himself.
What have the damned to lose, after all? They have already sacrificed their souls.