| OOC: Updated Character Write-up. | ||||
| 09:46am 30/11/2010 | ||||
Thwei Silverlight Betrayer of Undercity ~(May change this to 'Outcast of Undercity'... Hmmm)~ Currently: A blood-soaked bandage is wrapped around his upper left arm, that it's a bad enough wound to bleed so is perhaps curous to some, considering he's ignoring it. Where once he never went far without his precious plate armor, now that the battle in Northrend has died down, he seems almost unwilling to wear it unless in combat. His stance is perpetually on-guard in spite of his more causal outfit. Black pants cover his legs, his normal belt, boots and weapon are still present, but that's the only arms or armor he wears still if it can be helped, a well cared for and often mended Tabard of the Ebon Blade covers his chest, though curiously a faded light red shirt can be seen under it. Past his lack of armor, colorful tribal tattoos cover the visible skin of his arms and shoulders, trailing under his Tabard, implying there are more under it. A trail of silver earrings march up along both his ears, and a brand marks his right forarm, curiously the mark is that of the Blood Knights. A chill still seems to accompany his presence, if anything that seems more obvious now, as he's more apt to be closer to others when in cities. "This order must establish allies for itself if it is to survive. You must represent the Knights of the Ebon Blade to the Horde." ~Old Write-up~ Thwei Shadowsong/Silverlight Currently: His normally confident expression is a touch shaken. Intense anger, self-loathing and a sense of one betrayed seem to radiate from his very poise. He's stripped bare of any prior Forsaken markers, and instead wearing the colors of the Ebon Blade. A chill accompanies his presence, even though the slight grin he offers you seems friendly enough, something makes you wary. Perhaps the feeling comes from the chill of frost that seems to follow his every step, or the lingering traces of dried blood filling the etchings along the blade he carries? Hints of colorful ink can be seen peeking from between his armor, vivid against his pale skin, the tracework of scars make it obvious as to what all marked his body before and after the ink was embedded there. The bright colors and tribal nature of what you can see imply much. As do the obvious signs left from a trail of piercings, a few of which are adorned with jewelry as if late... He clearly cares more for the battlefield than the state of his clothes, but his armor is always in top condition, and when in cities his hair is often damp, clearly fresh from a bath, frost lingering on the traces of water still visible on his freshly washed hair and armor. The only time he tends to be spattered with fresh blood is when in battle, a time when he rather obviously enjoys not caring for such details. |
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aggravated| 01:10pm 29/11/2010 | ||||
So it comes down to this, does it..? That... That crazy BITCH! Coming back from Northrend, I could scarsely believe it, but then getting here... Where once merely lingered the scent of death and alchemical supplies on the wind, now the air of the forests positively REEKED of the Plague. I feel guilty, I had spared a moment thinking I had finally woken up... Scarcely hoping the Battle in Northrend had gone differently... But no, then the meaning of that scent became clear. The Wrathgate WAS NOT an 'error', no 'rebellion', nor mestake... No, no... Bloody fools! That bitch... Once I thought of her as a beautiful queen of death, Sylvanas... She had the Apothecary mixing up more batches of Blight! Some part of me half-yearned to kneel down and praise her... But this was my world, not Northrend she was poisoning. The air, the soil... The very Water would likely never recover... I saw all this, I had to walk most of the length of Silverpine and Tirisfal combined before I let myself admit it... And realize just how WRONG it was. ... But that was not the worst, no... Following, in a slight daze, that fateful request... Led to a chain of events. I'd hoped to never see the like of that behavior again. With Prince Arthas dead, it was just unthinkable. While I will not begrudge Sylvanas (No, she is no "Lady" to me, nor "Queen", not ever) her right to procure the continued existance of her "Race"... However going to such lengths to renew something so cursed, it's a bit unthinkable. You don't see death knights begging the Val'kyr to carry on our kind, do you?! No... SHE did... She 'employed', as she calls it, the discarded Val'kyr maidens... Their lot should have been distroyed to a last in Northrend, but it wasn't... She found some, and she brought them back to Lordaeron. Back to raise more Forsaken for her... And by that point, I was trapped. Turning back would have been suspect at worst, inexcusable at least... And I've much to be on guard for in such regard. So I carried on... directing those damnedable Val'kyr into fights, letting them... No ordering them, to raise more Forsaken. While I'll freely admit, standing there, I think I now know what Arthas felt when he created more Scourge... But as the implication of that feeling set in... The Battle for Andorhal was a mess... Sylvanas was an idiot... The Alliance leaders worse, but how could they have known? None of them were ever death knights, never could have known. Loyalty... Becomes a funny thing once you have given up on the Living... I understand the Forsaken more clearly than I ever did in life... Loyalty is to others of you kind, much more easily than it comes to those that can not understand what you have been through... So ordered or not, My loyalties have always been to the Knights of the Ebon Blade first... The Horde... The Trolls and Blood Elven race, especially... THEN the other races of the Horde, though Sylvanas once had a special palce in my still heart. The torment of her exiatance, oh how she lamented often about it... The lack of joy. Now she eats her own words?! She's no better than Arthas was, lured down a very tempting path... For nothing but her own destruction. ... I could have let it slide... Ignored it, perhaps sought out the druids to inform or some such... I don't know anymore... Perhaps were my thoughts not so muddled with wine, I could have had the thought to do something sooner... Now all that's left is to sort out the leftover pieces... Koltira Deathweaver... I remember being sent with a small party of death knights to save him from the Scarlet Crusade, at Thassarian's request. And we did... Though in the end, he wound up helping our foolish little band escape. Commander... Officer... I think I would have died in Northrend, some of his errands a nice focus and saving grace to my slipping sanity then... I needed a constant focus, a source of violent errands to cease the whispering in my skull. I never knew blessed silence until Arthas was slain... It was a depressing relief. I too well remembered Thassarian and Koltira's ways from before, it mattered little to me when they concluded to call the fight a 'draw' as long as possible, given their past, I did not begrudge them this... Rumors abound, even among the scourge, so I was never sure what to make of those two, they always cared more than they should, at least when it came to keeping each other alive... Made sense to me to hear their joking banter, a parody of something that should have long since been told, but perhaps never would be. Maybe someday they will have their battle still... But hope wanes. Sylvanas didn't approve... The bitch had been playing us all the pawn, for really no good reason. Hiding under a guise. Likely paranoia, lest the rest of the Horde truly learn of what all she's been doing. I hope the Alliance slay her... I shan't ever raise my sword for her again, save in salute to her killers, perhaps. I'm loyal, yes... But a kicked dog bites back after a while... And Arthas taught most of his death knights well in THAT regard. Caring for another as kin is a 'Weakness', she claimed... Going on to claim how Arthas "failed" at properly breaking us of that. But that's not ever what he broke us of, no.... Loyalty to our own was strongly enforced. A requirement. Though not uncommon that us knights would slay another to further our own rise in the ranks, that was different. Cull out the weak, yes... But if Koltira was weak... So were many of us, and perhaps we, too are 'damaged'... But such was not her call. She had no right to treat him like that... Would that I knew I could have killed her... Would that I knew anything could have saved me from having a matching chain wrapped around MY neck, I would have drawn my runeblade then and there... But instead, I was weak, I was forced to stand by as... Whatever she commanded... Pulled one of my few remaining commanders from my very side. ... ... He seemed so shocked... So was I... So was the Warlock... I was stupified, I can't even remember any of the horrifying creatures of Icecrown Citadel itself dazing me so... But then came the anger, and that... THAT was a familair feeling. How DARE SHE! NOT ONLY was he a Knight of the Ebon Blade, regardless of what 'horrible slight', he had supposedly commited, He was more a Champion of the Horde even than _I_! One of the Ashen Verdict's very own... And she...! "Queen" or no, that was NOT something she had the right to have final say in! Last I checked, though I do not approve of that coward being in a place of power, GARROSH was our Warchief, NOT her. And likewise, last I checked, Highlord Darion Mograin was the Ebon Blade's representative... Hells, even LOR'THEMAR would have had more right than her. ... She promises to 'eliminate his compassion for Thassarian'. Like hell, there were few even the Lich King himself could not break of such, and he was FAR more inventive and worthy of fear and respect than her. "Ensure his loyalty is to the Horde and more specifically the Forsaken."... Her words ring in my ears... One is not the same as the other, dear bitch queen. Neither they, nor I are your kind, while yes, we suffered under the control of the Lich King, we were of a different 'breed'..! Even those of the Human death knights were never the same as the Scourge... The Ghouls... Geists... The ones that later became the Forsaken over time, both before and after... WE were never that. I AM NOT FORSAKEN. Eliminate compassion? ... IF that is what the dear Bitch Queen wishes... Very well, she shall have it. Starting with her. Horde I may be, but I will NEVER bow to her... Not until she marches her tight ass up to Icecrown Citadel and claims the fallen crown of the Lich King. ... Even then, perhaps the rest of the Horde would finally see light enough to end the bitch. ... But aside from drawing what conclusions I can... Now is a time for planning. I've little doubt of Thassarian's continued existance, we found the corpse of his loyal 'Knight', not his... And I'm sure where Thassarian is, some ill concieved attempt to rescue his brother is not far behind. And until the day comes that I get to end Sylvanas myself... I shall have to simply hope those of us among the Ebon Blade that know... I shall hope we get to Koltira in time... ...... After all, he reminds me of... The Light... Of being a Paladin. Of my homeland... My commanding officer... The reason I fell in battle... It's not him, but... At times, so similar. And him and Thassarian... Make me miss my nearly twin brother, though I can hardly recall him, either... I think that's why I never minded Thassarian's requests, even though he was once Human... He was right, in death none of that matters... But Sylvanas..? Sylvanas can taste Alliance steel for all I care... She is NOT one of ours, merely a now broken plaything leftover from Arthas' castoffs... Even most of the Ebon Blade are not so... Though I think I came close... Before that demon-spawn bastard 'helped' me... Aah... Heh, but if he knew who's hand it was I stayed, who I saved from getting her claws clipped by the Bitch Queen... I'd be curious to know if he felt accomplished, or a sense of fear... I would hope both. Just because he cursed me with this 'gift', does not mean my claws are dulled... Though for now, they have a new focus... |
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| 04:41pm 10/06/2010 | ||||
It is odd to think back... I think when I first set foot in Shattrath I was overwhelmed, but not just at the noise and bustle of such a busy city... Not even the sight of once enemies mingling with mild care to old disputes... Though I'll admit, seeing one of my own training and sparring in a good natured way with one of the Draenei was... Interesting... To say the least. But no, it was none of that that left me breathless and slightly disoriented. It was the overwhelming aura of the Light. ... I had not felt such since I first drew power from our once captive and highly prized Naaru... M'uru. ... Shattrath is permeated with it, you know? The Light... The Naaru leave an aura of it wherever they are. Standing there, I didn't even have to TRY to draw upon the energy, it was simply there once again... Ever since I was... Displaced... By that damned Warlock and those puffed up lizards, I have not felt my powers flow through me with such ease... Had I been willing to keep tapping into the energies of those who had watched over M'uru... Perhaps I could have saved myself a little pain. But such is not my way. I can not, and will not ever harm one of my own... Especially in light of... Well much of the why I can not say even on these pages, but I have my reasons. Some day I will cause more than enough pain... I will not add to that pain. ... Though I had gotten weak... Calling the Light was becoming more work than it should... Likely because I had pulled away, I can not be sure... Aah... But standing there on that day... It was enough to make even me forget everything... The past hurts, future worries, even the trivial were set aside in that moment as I simply... Enjoyed the aura of Light. Though the true realization came later, after a few days, I started to notice... The aura of pure Light was stronger the closer I got to the raised platform the faction of mainly Draenei called their own... The Aldor or the Scryers... The more I learned of each, the more I started to realize just how my alliances would be torn when I finally picked a side... I do not regret my decision... Though I wished nothing more than to join my own kin, and stay far away from the Draenei... I could no more fight the pull of the Light than I could willingly cease being a Paladin. It is everything I am, though I am sure some of my behavior is not something it would think favorable... Stolen or not, I know the Light would not allow it's use if it did not at least deem it's use within the cosmic 'margin of error' it deems acceptable... Whatever that may be, I can not fathom... But that is not for me to worry about... After all, I suppose it is more a sense of balance, any more, isn't it? ... For it to allow what is to occur... At least it puts some perspective on my past behavior... NOTHING I could do now should tip whatever balance there is, if it allows... That... Thing... That event... To occur. But I digress, I should not focus on such, I was speaking of the Light, wasn't I? ... Yes. I allied with the Aldor. I've said it, and wrote it many times... I do not regret it. Though those first steps onto that rise, stepping off the platform and realizing I was surrounded by Draenei... My enemies once... I nearly shook with trepidation and barely suppressed anxiety... An unfamiliar sense, something I have not felt often. I am rather proud of how I conducted myself, however... Barely shivering and adjusting my shield before setting off at a pace befitting my errand, intent upon getting to the temple and speaking with the High Priestess, as Khadgar himself told me I should. Though, oh... The Light... If I thought it was overwhelming in the city itself... Setting foot in that Temple nearly floored even me... It was wondrous, warm and nearly as intoxicating as the finest of Silvermoon's wines. Even just the ambient energy and Light made me feel as I did long, long ago, power-drunk after getting my first taste of magic after being forced so long without... To those not of my kind, I do not think I can describe it, though those that are may understand a bit... Though I've been since told that even most Paladins not of the Sin'dorei are often floored the day they set foot in that temple... ... I wish I could never leave it... But alas, I know that is not an option. Even if my fate was not already told and played, there is much to do before I can even think of rest in such a way. |
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contemplative| 08:49am 08/12/2009 | ||||
But that is neither here nor there, and my memories are just that. And at times they are even meaningless, as I am that no longer, and have not been for... At least a year, perhaps more... Or perhaps less... Time is relatively meaningless to me now, beyond the burning drive of Revenge, and the ever persistent chill of frost... The tales and stories warn you as children... Do not become too careless, to ambitious. Do not dream too high for too long, for if you do, someday you will fall. And most don't tend to walk away from such a fall... I was one of those that did. That day at least, I remember with crystal clarity, as if looking merely into a mirror. We had been led North, in an attempt to put an end to... Well, what exactly I was unsure of then, but now I know. And are the details really that important? We did fail after all, and I'm sure the history books will make it guessable enough as to the events I reference... But, oh... What a glorious day, even the biting cold, and the frost chilling my polished plate armor could not dampen that. Not even the battle could... Not until... ... We lost... I relive the memories oft enough, I have no desire to write it down here and now, however, that we lost was the important part... And for the first time ever in my life, I felt fear as we were ordered to withdraw from the field. I recall with crystal clarity the piercing scream of my commanding officer as he fell behind me, a flurry of snow passing my vision as I turned and rushed back to aid him... Were that I not as loyal... As foolishly loyal as I was back then... Perhaps I could have saved myself from the frozen bite of the axe. I didn't even realize that... Vile thing... Was behind me until I felt the agony of the blade piercing my armor. Tearing my blessed plate asunder, as if it were nothing more than cloth... And when I awoke from that... I could feel... Nothing. Not at first, nothing past the coppery taste of blood on my lips and the icy chill of frost surrounding me. And at the time, even that could spark no emotion in me... To say that I had been resurrected would be a poor choice in words. As that was a power I had in life, and something that had been done to me... On occasion. This was different... I was... Not exactly alive anymore, though I had not a care for my condition at the time. It didn't take me long to figure out what had occurred. And when it did... I reveled in it... Enjoyed it. For a time... I was one of Arthas' many honored Death Knights. His faithful unliving warriors, that existed for precisely two things, and two things alone... To follow his every word, and to enjoy doing so. Regardless of what he asked. And to say that I did not enjoy my work... The things I did, regardless of how vile some of those things were. Would be a lie. To be perfectly honest, depending on my company, I have been known to fake regret... But it is not something I truly feel. That Arthas wouldn't have sacrificed so many of us, left us for dead following that idiotic battle at Light's Hope Chapel... Something that once I regained my own sense of being I laugh at him for to this day. How could he have not known exactly how that would occur?! ... But I get off topic... ... Though I wonder if I ever had a topic to start... |
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