The suspense of the trial was the worst of it. Turning corners, jumping over fallen debris, never knowing if there was a plague-carrying ghoul or the lich ahead. Aorune had done it anyway. While sometimes he wondered if he was going mad from the plague, his father kept on following him, striking foes, protecting Aorune...The worgen never understood why until the trial was over with.
After /somehwhat/ rebuilding his broken hearthstone, Kaellar came to Raven Hill in search. With the death knight's aid, Aorune got far, but the worst had happened. From what he could gather from his barred memory, there had been a collsape, seperating the two and leaving Aorune for the underground mazes of Dawningwood Catacombs.
Some nights later, while Aorune was not even capable to stand up, the plague slowly destroying him, there finally...finall...came help. He was discovered by two of the Esoteric Darkshire Cabal, and a flare sent up by the night elf of the pair attracted most of the rest of the party. There was....Katamar, a well-suited medic named Vendet, and a quaint Kaldorei fellow named Byrch. There was...There was Luptia. Damn it, to see like how she was....
The phylactery......
Aorune looked frantically for it, sparking confusion to the rescue party. Vendet recommended to put Aorune under and make way to safe ground. Fireblade wouldn't have it. He came with a job, a duty, and it had to be completed. After /attempting/ to explain his plight, Katamar and Byrch caught on, and used their druidic powers to cleanse Aorune of the plague. With the sickness gone, Aorune was able to continue healing himself with the Light. By now, the Esoteric Darkshrie Cabal was gone; a Horde attack was commencing in Darkshire.
Aorune got up, with tiredness, but did his best to act as if all was fine. He looked through the strange squares in the wall, trying to locate the phylactery. "....By chance, did you see a hat?" he suddenly asked. Some of the crowd nodded their heads in affirmation. "A hat, strangely enough, was the last form the phylactery took. The lich need to die to severely reduce the undead threat in this area."
Outside, a small party made out across the field of undead and into the decaying house the hat was in. When they finally came back to Aorune, he promptly took his hammer, put fire to it, and dropped the symbol of a Paladin upon the "hat". It exploded in dark energy. "The lich is now mortal, we must attack now," Aorune declared. "There are two entrances, neither inviting. The tomb entrance holds many, many undead, but they are all physical. Behind me, there is a path of dark spirits ad strange creatures that belong in the Emerald Nightmare. Choose amongst yourselves." The tomb entrance won.
The group slowly made its way down into the lich's lair, making sure none contracted the plague from the many ghouls the skeletal mage had amassed. The lich was more than shocked at the group's arrival. "Hello, mortals...Come to....play?" he asked with severe nervousness.
"Your phylactery is no more, Fel," Fireblade proclaimed.
"Guards! Guards! Oh, the fruitlessness of it all," the lich called. A swift battle followed, with the death of Morbent Fel.
"Come, let us leave this forsaken place," Aorune declared. The party made its way up and went to the aid of Darkshire. In Darkshire, Aorune met many more familiar faces, spotted Drakehide, somewhat comical friend of his sister, Judiel, and reconciled for his departure with Luptia after the Pia Presidium arrived to deal with the Horde.
Faith. You have learned to have faith.
After /somehwhat/ rebuilding his broken hearthstone, Kaellar came to Raven Hill in search. With the death knight's aid, Aorune got far, but the worst had happened. From what he could gather from his barred memory, there had been a collsape, seperating the two and leaving Aorune for the underground mazes of Dawningwood Catacombs.
Some nights later, while Aorune was not even capable to stand up, the plague slowly destroying him, there finally...finall...came help. He was discovered by two of the Esoteric Darkshire Cabal, and a flare sent up by the night elf of the pair attracted most of the rest of the party. There was....Katamar, a well-suited medic named Vendet, and a quaint Kaldorei fellow named Byrch. There was...There was Luptia. Damn it, to see like how she was....
The phylactery......
Aorune looked frantically for it, sparking confusion to the rescue party. Vendet recommended to put Aorune under and make way to safe ground. Fireblade wouldn't have it. He came with a job, a duty, and it had to be completed. After /attempting/ to explain his plight, Katamar and Byrch caught on, and used their druidic powers to cleanse Aorune of the plague. With the sickness gone, Aorune was able to continue healing himself with the Light. By now, the Esoteric Darkshrie Cabal was gone; a Horde attack was commencing in Darkshire.
Aorune got up, with tiredness, but did his best to act as if all was fine. He looked through the strange squares in the wall, trying to locate the phylactery. "....By chance, did you see a hat?" he suddenly asked. Some of the crowd nodded their heads in affirmation. "A hat, strangely enough, was the last form the phylactery took. The lich need to die to severely reduce the undead threat in this area."
Outside, a small party made out across the field of undead and into the decaying house the hat was in. When they finally came back to Aorune, he promptly took his hammer, put fire to it, and dropped the symbol of a Paladin upon the "hat". It exploded in dark energy. "The lich is now mortal, we must attack now," Aorune declared. "There are two entrances, neither inviting. The tomb entrance holds many, many undead, but they are all physical. Behind me, there is a path of dark spirits ad strange creatures that belong in the Emerald Nightmare. Choose amongst yourselves." The tomb entrance won.
The group slowly made its way down into the lich's lair, making sure none contracted the plague from the many ghouls the skeletal mage had amassed. The lich was more than shocked at the group's arrival. "Hello, mortals...Come to....play?" he asked with severe nervousness.
"Your phylactery is no more, Fel," Fireblade proclaimed.
"Guards! Guards! Oh, the fruitlessness of it all," the lich called. A swift battle followed, with the death of Morbent Fel.
"Come, let us leave this forsaken place," Aorune declared. The party made its way up and went to the aid of Darkshire. In Darkshire, Aorune met many more familiar faces, spotted Drakehide, somewhat comical friend of his sister, Judiel, and reconciled for his departure with Luptia after the Pia Presidium arrived to deal with the Horde.
Faith. You have learned to have faith.
