Striding along swiftly, the dark robed man made his way through the busy streets of his once loved city. "This city, it will make a fine start." He growled under his breath as he watched a group of children pass by, dutifully following their teacher.
Moving carefully along the streets, careful to avoid drawing the suspicions of the guards, he strode over the canals he once fished from. "These could have some use" glancing at the dark, murky water. Planning. He was always planning. It was this singular trait that kept him, not quite "Alive", but safe from the zealotry of a certain denomination.
His dark cloak hung limp at his back, despite it being a blustery day. An evil gleam caught his eye, a strange glowing eye, as he stared up at at Stormwind's greatest monument.
The Cathedral.
The large pointed structure loomed over him, casting it's shadow over him in the fading light of dusk. It had cast shadows over him even when he was nowhere near the city. This large structure, the bastion of holy power and resolve, embodied everything he hated. Hatred was not quite the word that described his feelings for this building and all it stood for, hatred was not strong enough. Loathing, not quite correct either.
With a small smile he whispered to himself, "You will crumble, oh yes you will, but not until I am through." Glancing down the street at the pair of guards coming his way, his smile turned into a grimace. "Fools," was all he muttered as he backed into the growing shadows as daylight waned. Gazing back at the cathedral numerous plans raced through his mind, each one having it's own dark merits. The ones he favored he carefully memorized and stored in the dark recesses of a once noble mind.
Several paladins and priests had just exited the Holy structure, and were slowly traipsing down the steps. A hint of malice burned in his once bright eyes, now dull and lifeless save the glow. A feeling of sadness ached through him as he saw the nobility in them, the hope...and he hated it. The group of Holy men and women disappeared around the corner. Sadness unwillingly made him remember his days as a paladin.
He had been a champion of the light once, Torvan Stadlight, a bringer of hope and good in the world. Battling the undead forces of the Scourge alongside his brothers-in-arms. His family safe back in Theramore, he had embarked to cleanse the plaguelands of the undead. He believed the Light would purify these lands, making them wholesome again, splendorous to behold. His faith in the Light was unshakable.
How he had been mistaken.
Cut off and surrounded, Torvan had felled dozens of Scourge, before the masses overwhelmed him. Calling out his prayers to the Light, he prepared to Consecrate the ground beneath him, to drive the Undead back.
It did not come.
The Light that normally filled him did not come. He felt...nothing. Panic overwhelmed him, "How could the Light fail me?" He tried again, still nothing. Still suffering from the shock, the Geists and Ghouls ripped him to shreds. His last waking memory as a living being was that of despair, the Light had abandoned him.
No. He shook his head firmly, bringing himself back to reality. It had been many years ago. The anger he felt, unjustified. The Scourge Lich had remade him, reborn him as a death knight.
Torvan Deathmantle.
Taught him to view himself as a but a cog in a machine. Every piece as important as the next. Despite the fall of the Lich King, Torvan stood resolute. During the Northrend campaign he had met some of his old comrades from his days as a paladin. They called him a monster, and claimed he had abandoned the Light.
Rage shook him, HE ABANDONED THE LIGHT!?, moments later he freed his former brothers from their mortal coils. Personally raising them into undeath. "So, my brothers, who betrayed whom?"
"The Light... betrayed us." they answered in unison, their voices echoing characteristically with the sound of death. Yes. He had found his purpose, to spread the unity of Death to the living, to teach them the truth they were missing. To cast down the lying priests and paladins who claimed the Light was all that was good in the world.
Gazing up at the Cathedral, he scowled, then set his face in a cruel smile. Walking towards the pair of guards slowly, he approached them casually. "I cannot cast the church down in a day..." he murmured, as the shadow magics flew from his hands and caught the guards by surprise, ending their lives quickly.
"But I can start with followers like you..."
Moving carefully along the streets, careful to avoid drawing the suspicions of the guards, he strode over the canals he once fished from. "These could have some use" glancing at the dark, murky water. Planning. He was always planning. It was this singular trait that kept him, not quite "Alive", but safe from the zealotry of a certain denomination.
His dark cloak hung limp at his back, despite it being a blustery day. An evil gleam caught his eye, a strange glowing eye, as he stared up at at Stormwind's greatest monument.
The Cathedral.
The large pointed structure loomed over him, casting it's shadow over him in the fading light of dusk. It had cast shadows over him even when he was nowhere near the city. This large structure, the bastion of holy power and resolve, embodied everything he hated. Hatred was not quite the word that described his feelings for this building and all it stood for, hatred was not strong enough. Loathing, not quite correct either.
With a small smile he whispered to himself, "You will crumble, oh yes you will, but not until I am through." Glancing down the street at the pair of guards coming his way, his smile turned into a grimace. "Fools," was all he muttered as he backed into the growing shadows as daylight waned. Gazing back at the cathedral numerous plans raced through his mind, each one having it's own dark merits. The ones he favored he carefully memorized and stored in the dark recesses of a once noble mind.
Several paladins and priests had just exited the Holy structure, and were slowly traipsing down the steps. A hint of malice burned in his once bright eyes, now dull and lifeless save the glow. A feeling of sadness ached through him as he saw the nobility in them, the hope...and he hated it. The group of Holy men and women disappeared around the corner. Sadness unwillingly made him remember his days as a paladin.
He had been a champion of the light once, Torvan Stadlight, a bringer of hope and good in the world. Battling the undead forces of the Scourge alongside his brothers-in-arms. His family safe back in Theramore, he had embarked to cleanse the plaguelands of the undead. He believed the Light would purify these lands, making them wholesome again, splendorous to behold. His faith in the Light was unshakable.
How he had been mistaken.
Cut off and surrounded, Torvan had felled dozens of Scourge, before the masses overwhelmed him. Calling out his prayers to the Light, he prepared to Consecrate the ground beneath him, to drive the Undead back.
It did not come.
The Light that normally filled him did not come. He felt...nothing. Panic overwhelmed him, "How could the Light fail me?" He tried again, still nothing. Still suffering from the shock, the Geists and Ghouls ripped him to shreds. His last waking memory as a living being was that of despair, the Light had abandoned him.
No. He shook his head firmly, bringing himself back to reality. It had been many years ago. The anger he felt, unjustified. The Scourge Lich had remade him, reborn him as a death knight.
Torvan Deathmantle.
Taught him to view himself as a but a cog in a machine. Every piece as important as the next. Despite the fall of the Lich King, Torvan stood resolute. During the Northrend campaign he had met some of his old comrades from his days as a paladin. They called him a monster, and claimed he had abandoned the Light.
Rage shook him, HE ABANDONED THE LIGHT!?, moments later he freed his former brothers from their mortal coils. Personally raising them into undeath. "So, my brothers, who betrayed whom?"
"The Light... betrayed us." they answered in unison, their voices echoing characteristically with the sound of death. Yes. He had found his purpose, to spread the unity of Death to the living, to teach them the truth they were missing. To cast down the lying priests and paladins who claimed the Light was all that was good in the world.
Gazing up at the Cathedral, he scowled, then set his face in a cruel smile. Walking towards the pair of guards slowly, he approached them casually. "I cannot cast the church down in a day..." he murmured, as the shadow magics flew from his hands and caught the guards by surprise, ending their lives quickly.
"But I can start with followers like you..."
Edited by Torvan on 4/17/2011 4:14 PM PDT
