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Not at all!! I think you are doing very well!! I had actually hoped to entice Ein to throw a character in here too. I have a few others I would not mind if they joined, but asking them does not always work. I know school is almost out, so we will see if I get any more.
Victor Cross stood alone amidst the grey, dead wasteland that was the Deadwind Pass. The apparently aging human took in a deep breath of the dry, dusty air and seemed to contemplate the distant tower. From his perch atop the Pass' overlooking cliffs, Victor could see the men and women, few though they may have been, that traveled through the desolate place.
Running a hand through his short black hair- grey now along the edges with some grey peppering- Victor considered teleporting back to his home, the Undercity. Back to the stench of rot and death that brought happy thoughts of a time long gone. Back to his friend, Marella, and her familiar presence. Perhaps at some point in his life it would have seemed odd, if not outright mad, to keep company with something that was no longer living and yet still lingered on. But, as with the better times, that point of his life was nothing but a distant memory.
His cold grey eyes- the skin around them lined and shadowed from stress and lack of sleep- narrowed to make out the Karazhan Resort. Coming here had been a hard decision. The journey was long and went through some dangerous lands. But Victor had been drawn in by the allure of investigating Karazhan, where Medivh, the Last Guardian, had made final stand. What artifacts were stored there? What magics were at work? What spirits still made the place their home? For all his life, Victor had risked everything in the pursuit of knowledge. He had not only damned himself, but his family and friends as well. It was he who had risen Marella from death, for nothing but to know what would occur. No price was too great.
"Not quite everything." he silently reminded himself. "Not my life." What a fool he had been, to deny the Lich King his life. That was why he'd been forced to leave the Scourge and go begging to the Banshee Queen. Marella had been of great use for that.
His life might have ended then, had it not been for his use to Sylvanas. She knew how much she needed necromancers loyal to her. Her people were undead, with no way to reproduce. Without people like Victor, her kingdom would have turned to dust long ago. And so, he had proven himself loyal to the Dark Lady and continued his pursuit of knowledge, becoming invaluable to his Queen. Victor would have betrayed her in turn if he had to, but he was secretly glad that it hadn't come to that. He'd grown quite fond of Marella, and she was too devout a follower to leave the Forsaken, no matter the reason.
Rousing himself from his nostalgia, Victor drew a small feather from his pack, muttering and incantation. When he finished speaking, the feather disappeared. At the same time, his legs were suddenly relieved of their burden, leaving him to feel as light as the feather that had just vanished. Finally finished with the Slow Fall spell, Victor moved back from the edge and then ran forward, flying through the air. Instead of plummeting to his death, however, he lightly floated down, keeping the momentum from his run. A few minutes later he landed, staggering slightly. A dull pain arrived in his kneecap that didn’t seem inclined to fade away. He frowned. “The symptoms are arriving faster than I anticipated. The early signs of age were to be expected, but this is worse than I thought.”
In truth, Victor- despite his apparent age- was barely past thirty years. What he was experiencing were the consequences of wielding necromantic magics. If allowed to progress- which was unavoidable- he would wither away before he surpassed forty years. Another reason why he despised himself for refusing the gift of Undeath.
Victor pushed away these troubling thoughts, focusing on the task at hand. Karazhan loomed before him, and the possibilities were endless.
((Hey there! I hope you don’t mind me using a non-player class. He’s basically a frost mage with the ability to raise dead, with a few other mage abilities like teleporting and slowfall and others. Hope you liked him :D ))
Edited by Derrekk on 5/13/2013 1:03 PM PDT
"Very well, we will meet at the sun's peak in a weeks time. Your fate will be decided then. Dismissed."
Rodney nodded, his face a stone slate as he stared at the council before him. He said nothing, but turned and walked out of the room, thrusting the doors to the side in gesture of his displeasure. He heard the doors slam against the walls on either side, the hinges groaning in protest at the sudden twist of pressure they were burdened with. Half of him hoped they would yield and the doors collaspe where they stood.
How could the council be so blind at what was happening! Only one believed his recounting of the incident. Nathaniel, a beast of a man and his mentor, was the only hand that granted him a few days impunity from the punishment he knew was inevitable. Rodney aggravatedly brushed his hand through his shaggy hair as he stood outside, taking a breath of fresh air.
"Breath it deep, son. As the light is willing, it may very well be running short of supply." The voice startled the paladin, and he turned with a start. Relief flushed over his face for a mere second as he recognized Nathan walking up to him, but the usual warmth of a smile was berift from his features.
"You cannot convince them." Rodney said gruffly, more out of self-pity than anything.
"You saw their conviction as well as I did." Came the reply. "I've done what I could, but I'm afraid their voice remains solidified in their stand. However it be, I will continue to plead your innocence in such matters. You're certain you've told exactly as it happened?" Nathaniel watched his student closely. His heart weighed heavy in the knowledge of what was likely to become of the young man, and wanted to see the truth blatent within his eyes.
"Of course! I told all as I remembered! Every bit, every quarter and detail!" Rodney spun back on his mentor, furious with rage. He curbed himself, however, knowing that the older paladin was not the cause of his anger.
In truth, he wasn't sure what to make of it. The teaching's of the Church were simply not making sense anymore. 'Light's Justice' was a saying he'd heard more than once throughout that horrible meeting, yet he could hardly believe that men so 'in-tune' with the light as they claim would be so blind! His own faith in the very power itself and in the men claiming it's wisdom was fading quickly.
Nathanial grasped Rodney with a hand on each shoulder, taking the odd complexion swirling about the young paladin's eyes as confusion. "Let it rest for now, Rodney. We have a week yet, to convince them that the evidence is not as it seems."
Rodney nodded, and took a step back, saluting the older man. He was indeed thankful to have him as a friend. Now, perhaps, his only true friend left.
"Go home, and pray the Light grant us a revelation on these matters before we convene again." With that, Nathan turned back towards the building, his large, mail-clad figure vanishing through the twin doors.
"If only it were that easy...." Rodney mumbled to himself as he walked away.
The night had brought him little sleep, leaving Rodney feeling rather exhausted in the morning when the sun rose through the window. He felt little urge to pray as was his normal routine. The words were empty and hollow to him now, with little meaning flowing past his lips as he uttered them. All that he could think about was how he was to be stripped of his honor, pride, and who knew what else.
He stood and walked to his window, staring out at the expanse of the courtyard. Suddenly a small flutter caught his eye, and his gaze fell upon a small parchment stuck to the side of a post just outside. Curious he went out and looked at it.
"Kharazan...a hotel?" He looked at it incredulously as he read the parchment. It certainly held his interest... the place was a mystery, mentioned prior only by whispers and the occasional gossip of being hosting dark secrets. Yet, here it was, blazen before him it was rennovated to a rather luxurious looking get-away. Perhaps just what he needed! His mentor told him he needed to get his mind off of the current events for a few days, and this seemed just the thing.
Edited by Kíalla on 5/13/2013 4:21 PM PDT
Fantastic for both Derrek and Kialla. I welcome you both, I will be setting up the IC thread soon.
Shall we wait and see if another two show or if anyone wants to have another character? I think two would be the limit for each of us.
Hmm, keep in mind this is a character that will die, in this thread. However, since I dont want anyone to sit there reading after everyone has been killed, I need an excuse to keep them posting. So...what do you say we have the characters continue as ghosts, after they have been killed?
As a ghost, you cannot have any direct contact with the other characters, as in speaking to them or them hearing you. Perhaps they can find other ways to communicate or they can wreak vengeance on whoever killed them? I do want to have some of you working to kill, it should be kind of a kill or be killed scenario. I totally think they will be a fun plot twister if we all use our imaginations.
Hmm... how would we manage that as a ghost? Manipulating objects?
Oh, and don't worry about me getting too attached to him, I made him knowing he'd die. I just get attached to all my characters, to be honest. Just some more than others. Kia is one that I can't actually see myself letting go anytime soon. :)
Edited by Kíalla on 5/13/2013 5:24 PM PDT
Oh one more thing, make sure you mention somewhere what race you are. Class is one thing, but it helps to know what I am fighting,a draenei or a human or dwarf? When I put up IC thread you can post these openers but make sure to include full name, race, gender, age, and some kind of description. All of you have done well so far, I need to add a few things to mine. But you get the idea. We want to be sure to create a picture of the person you are using. With words of course.
As far as ghosts are concerned, think of Poltergeists. Manipulating objects but noting too drastic. Maybe dropping pictures off the walls, closing open doors, or the opposite. Turning lights on or off, blowing candles out, spilling something on the floor. All kinds of things, just not directly speaking. If you use something to write a message, like a bit of charcoal or paint, make it cryptic or hard to read.
IC is up. Have fun. I will keep this open for a few more days.
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