Character:Lórgar Shadowsworne
Class:Rogue
Why do you want to join the Cult?:I love RPing and I'm very interested in the mix of religous hierarchy and military structure in the cult.
How did you come to learn about the Cult: I did some RPing with some member in brill and silvermoon.
I.C.
The cardinal knelt before his alter whispering to himself "The light is our strength, the light is our hope, the light is our salvation". The church was empty,the candles were low and the shadows cast upon the wall were growing darker. The undead stalked slowly through the pews remaining low and out of sight, the murmuring of the preacher was maddening him with every passing second but he held back,waiting.
A large bell began to ring from the bell tower and within the first chime the undeads boney hand was clenching the preachers throat and his dagger resting in front of his heart.
"Light protect me" the cardinal gasped between hard fought breaths, to which the undead slammed the cardinal to the floor, his dagger not once moving from the cardinals chest.
"It won't help you anymore than it did for me, Maeldrid." The undead growled from beneath his hooded face his yellow eyes blazing through the darkness piercing the cardinals gaze. The preacher looks into the the undeads face and horror beyond horror grips him, " No! Lórgar." The undead smiles as the cardinal begins to remember."Lórgar I swear We didn't know!"
The dagger peirces his heart and silences the old fool. Silence decends once again upon the church. The next day only ashes remain.
A paladin in his former life,Lórgar was an epitome of honour and bravery. Sacrificing his life to hold the undead at bay while his wounded comrades escaped ,he battled honourably but was felled.
In what felt like an instant he awoke in the ashes of Tirisfal glades. His fleshed burned with white hot fire as though he were burning from the inside, in the flurry of pain and confusion he scambled himself free of his armour, and the pain ended. Confused he tried to arm himself again but instead of seeing his strong healthy hand, he saw mangled claw of bone staring at him.
The terrible truthwas starting to on him. His old holy armour burned his skin, His old sword was too heavy for his rotting muscles. He tried to call upon the light to heal his wounds but nothing came to him, despair overtook him.
In his desperation and he fled to the only place he knew would protect him, The order he died to save.
On his journey he heard cries of pain and anguish, his natural instinct overtook him and rushed to aid the helpless.
Following the sounds of distress Lórgar found a group of undead, assuming they were the aggressors he charged at them with with his fists. An undead female who looked as if she had been no older than 19 turned to see him charging and screamed"Please don't hurt us!".Lórgar stopped dead and fell to his knees, his heart broken over the sight of these poor creatures to which he now belonged.
He calmed the hysterical group down, they, like him had only just awoke he instructed them to head west and find a small chapel of the light, knowing that his order will always protect the helpless.
After searching for any more stranded, most of whom were already going to find someone called "Sylvannas" he made his way to the chapel.
Weak from his ordeals, his heart was lifter as the bell tower came into sight, It had not fallen, and as he neared he could make out his old comrades, now wearing scarlet armour and drapings and looking older. He was about to call out when he saw what the chapel was decorated with.
The group of undead whom he directed to the chapel were nailed to the front wall. The young undead female was placed upon the door, her limbs cut off, her chest ripped open and her heart in her mouth.
Lórgar wept tears of blood upon seeing the terrible sight and rage, pure rage built in Lórgars chest. His saddness and despair in direct proportion to his anger and hate.
A man of tactics he waited until darkness and snuck in the church from an old secret passage and slew his old comrades one by one in their sleep without mercy,compassion, honour or humanity.
In the morning he stood before the old alter of the church.Everything he had felt in life felt empty inside him now, only rage at the lies of his old life,lies of protecting those who need protection, lies of the light when he had proved the night before that using shadows is a better tool.
He took the name Shadowsworne that morning, vowing to kill everyone who had destroyed his old life, the lich king for transforming him and his former people who betrayed his trust and faith and transformed them into something terrible.
He would follow the Leader the other stranded were going to see, "Sylvannas" ,she named us "the Forsaken".A good name.
Mon May 24, 2010 5:08 am
