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"That which was weak, abandoned, impoverished - will be in death, made whole. Feel the exhilaration of power, fed through the veins in the joy of rebirth. Relinquish your fears, your doubts, your pain. Undeath is a gift, to be revered above all else."
~ Excerpt from the Necrotian Unholy Scriptures - quoted by High Cultist Herennn, Cult of the Damned.
Alone and desolate, the figure crossed the road, eager to be at home in front of a warm fire. The shadows resembled lurking wraiths, a reminder of the void that the figure suppressed within. Three strangers silently encroached, closing the distance from all sides, their black hooded cloaks pulled low over their eyes.
"What.. d-do you w-want?" came the plea, trembling with fright. "Take all of my money - it's yours!" The figure threw a pouch on the ground; gold, silver, and copper coins spilling across the pavement.
"We don't want your money. We've come to help you." The stranger who had spoken possessed a voice that was deathly hollow. Another chuckled softly, gleefully.
Without warning, a metal hand shot out, clamping tightly around the victim's throat. It squeezed with near-inhuman strength. The air pipe closed. Within seconds, all went black...
The Necrotian Sect is a heavy, dark, mature RP guild now in operation. It is a working arm of the Cult of the Damned, and could be described as a gang or cult guild. Recruits generally fill one of four roles - as an alchemist, surgeon, tinker, or all-purpose thug. Those that have proved their loyalty and worth may be rewarded and allowed to wear the esteemed unholy cloth, taking part in highly secretive rituals and occasionally living sacrifice.
Day-to-day tasks include the gathering of unusual and exotic materials for alchemical experiments - eye stalks, bat wings, fungus, and grave dust to name but a few. In the hidden laboratory, cauldrons bubble with vile new plagues to be set up the population. Glass vats filled with green viscous fluid await the addition of flesh and bone to be resculpted, molded, and mutated into unrecognisable forms. In the tinker's corner, artificial devices are grafted onto severed limbs, replacing older parts of inferior function.
No race, class, or level is beneath the attention of The Necrotian Sect. Valuing quality over quantity, members are often fanatical, if not permanently insane. To be a Necrotian, one must be prepared to take part. Those who emulate corpses may soon find themselves becoming one, dropped unceremoniously into the nearest canal, and denied the reward of undeath.
Should you wish to be chosen, contact Steinerz, Amarstin, Calling, or Yttrena to undertake your initiation.
Anyone recruited into the guild will not be aware of its cultish nature initially. We work under a cover operation called the Keltson Shipping Company, which is an offshoot of a legitimate business called Keltson Imports Ltd, run by Orlahn Keltson. The Necrotian Sect run a smuggling operation within the shipping business. Guild members are dockworkers, laborers, and clerks. The name 'Necrotian Sect' and its nature are closely guarded secrets IC, even within the guild.
Edited by Yttrena on 5/15/2013 3:57 AM PDT
Ah, the chaos begins.
Erisande: Yes, we are easily incited.
Amarstin: We'll keep an eye out for you. We'll track you down eventually, perhaps by force.
Rease: Goal achieved. Expect more.
Kelban: Bring it on. But only if you're as stupidly crazy as us. I mean that in the nicest possible way.
Dressed in brown leather with a gruesome-looking bone dagger at her hip, Yttrena cut a lithe silhouette as she left a small house near the Shady Lady, in the Dwarven District of Stormwind. The premises was a step up in class from her old abode - the basement of the Pig and Whistle Tavern - and the fact that it had been recently occupied by her handsome lover, well, she could count her blessings there. Or could she?
A fuzzy, crackling noise caught Yttrena's attention, and she searched her concealed pockets to locate a small, pill-shaped metal communicator. The sound it was emitting was not so much a human voice as a low groan, and she wondered momentarily if she'd intruded on someone's private bedroom rendezvous.
Yttrena slyly held it up to her ear, trying to gather more details. Then, suddenly, she was almost deafened by a blood curdling scream! It was a man's scream, filled with pain, bellowing and hoarse. It was nothing like the female voices she'd heard lately, that were always so high-pitched and frightened, if not pathetic and weak. No. This one was different.
Yttrena wondered if her 'hoodlums' (as she liked to call her guildmates), had kidnapped a new target, someone a bit more feisty than their usual fare. But, as the scream broke into a pain-soaked sob, something in the man's voice caught her attention. Recognition dawned upon her.
"Toxin?! ((Steinerz)) Is that you?" Yttrena hissed into the device frantically, "Where are you? What the hell is going on?" No answer.
Instead of transmitting a reply, the communicator crackled and sputtered plaintively before its usual hum died. Yttrena banged it against te outside wall of a nearby building, trying to coax it to work again, but succeeded only in making the entire front face fall off.
"Useless goblin junk!" she cursed, stuffing the pieces back into her pocket. Surely they would have working models stashed in the guild chest, or failing that, maybe Rotwulf could fix it. She shuddered at the thought of that vile man, hoping she wouldn't have to resort to bribes.
"Now I'm going to have to play this by ear, quite literally..." Yttrena muttered to herself, as she noted grimly that without the contact device, she was going to have to try and find Toxin alone. The plan reeked of foolhardiness, but obviously he needed her help. It sounded like he was being tortured, or killed...very slowly. She may not have much time.
Skulking through the streets of Stormwind, up and along the rooftops, Yttrena searched, even checking under bridges in the canals, and the local bars. It was almost dawn. Most of the joints were empty.
"What if he's been taken out of town?" Yttrena mused worriedly. "He'll have been dead a week before we find him. Damn you, man. Why'd you have to go and play sniper to some Argent Bulwark do-gooder?" Her quiet rantings did nothing to calm her panicked nerves, and she rested and closed her eyes as she leaned against an old apple tree.
There. Outside a building near the entrance to the Cathedral of Light's courtyard, was a gathering of people, many of them armored. One in particular, standing on the verandah, eyed her with immediate suspicion. Balking, Yttrena slipped back into the safety of stealth, hoping it would be enough protection for her to eavesdrop on what was going on upstairs.
Try as she might, the walls seemed to muffle all of the voices, and Yttrena failed to make out anything except a few fragmented sentences that were meaningless to her. She thought she heard Steinerz groan again, and she caught sight of a blonde-haired woman as she came down the stairs (( Eliorah)), gesturing to a man in a red headband ((Gorthak)).
Deciding not to try a suicidal escape attempt, that would probably end up in her own capture, Yttrena kept her distance, counting how many had been left to guard.
"At least two, if not more...damn."
Instead, she followed the blonde woman to the Cathedral of Light, and with nothing short of horror, overheard her asking for the assistance of several Light-based guilds for their assistance in the removal of this 'threat'. Included amongst them - a dwarven priest she referred to as 'Bishop'. Oh dear. This was all a bit too much, too soon.
Several days later, Yttrena stumbled upon Toxin lying on his back in Rotwulf's laboratory in Old Town. He had some kind of new, metallic prosthetic in place of his foot. The cyborg warrior hovered around, admiring his handiwork and affixed Yttrena with a leering grin. She edged away from the eccentric, half-crazed man, watching Toxin as he awkwardly got to his feet and stumbled out.
"One way to fix a problem, let it sort itself out..." Yttrena muttered, stepping sideways as Rotwulf took a step towards her, calling her by his favourite weird and creepy petname. If only she could punch him in the face, if only they didn't need his damned skills! Later, she discovered it was Jacob ((Tremunev )) that had helped Toxin with the hostage break. It figured that his best mate could pull off the near-impossible. She'd have to grill them both later.
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