The good, the bad and the dead: Drathun's story.

OOC information
Character name: Drathun
Class: Necromancer (Warlock/DK)

Why do you want to join the Cult?: What can I say? I love forsaken lore, and I love the people in here
How did you come to learn about the Cult: After RPing on DB for over a year, there's no way you -can't- know about the cult!
Anything else you'd like us to know?
I used to be a pretty little belf officer in Sin belore, before racechanging to Forsaken.
In real life, I live in wall- err..belgium, I'm over 9000 years old and my shoesize is 46.

IC application:

Drathun’s story starts surrounded by the verdant forests of Quel’Thalas, among the shimmering buildings of Silvermoon and the radiance of the Sunwell.
Into a minor family he was born, the House of Shadowsun.
There are few records of this, due to the destruction of the majority of Silvermoon’s archives in the invasion, but he has a brother.
His brother’s tale is not that of himself, and thus of no importance.

The plums danced among the stirring late spring breeze, a thousand scents and fragrances blended harmoniously and subtly by nature’s own hand. A brilliant noon sun created pools of light in the cloaked darkness of a forest. Somewhere in the distance, a bird triumphantly let out his song, the sound resonating among the red-leafed trees.
The equilibrium of silence was disturbed by rhythmic clacking of dried wood against wood.
Two bare-chested Sin’dorei danced among the amber carpet of leaves, their movements disturbing nature like drops falling into a still pond. Beads of perspiration were separated from their bodies with each flowing motion, centering around a wooden stick carved into the form of a regular longsword.
The rhythm was interrupted when wood struck flesh with a sharp lash, and both sin’dorei paused, exhaling ragged tugs of breath. One of the two, the one that had just received the blow, wiped his drenched waist-long silver hair out of his visage, and laughed.
The other one, a ragged raven-haired elf, rested his hands upon the makeshift pommel, and drew one mouth corner up in a grin of some sorts and spoke lecturing. “Drathun, what did I say about horizontal coverage? Your flank is all open.”
“Kisi- erm, master Kisihn, why are we…here?” Drathun said while motioning around him.
“Ignorant cur, when you have time to talk, you have time to sweat!”
Kisihn began raining blows upon the other elf, forcing him backwards while he fended off each blow as well as possible, but to no avail.
The silver-haired elf stumbled down into the leaves, and Kisihn placed his sword on his ribcage, looming over him. “And that’s why we are here, so you know how to defend yourself against an elf who is five times older than you!”
“Shitty old man..” Drathun mumbled while maneuvering out of the pinned-down position.
Kisihn buried the sword tip-first into the moist soil, and sat down cross legged on the leaves.
“What would you rather be doing than this?”
Drathun sat down across his master, and placed the sword on his crossed legs.
“Another lesson in magic perhaps?”
“It will not be magic I will talk about, but something you will find equally interesting.”
“Enlighten me.”
“I will tell you now, about the Forgotten Shadow.”


Drathun leaned on his scythe - the scythe inherited from his late master – and peered across the battlefield that unfolded before him. “Magisters, hold your grond! Maintain pressure on the enemy’s ranks! If you falter, you doom us all!”
As the last word left Drathun’s lips, a hailstorm of fire and brimstone rained upon the blue-clad alliance army, crushing their troops and setting their banners ablaze. He turned around on his heels, facing the elf standing behind him.
“The hawkstrider cavalry will hit their flank in a matter of moments, the battle should be as good as won then.”
“You are telling me things I know yet, begone.”
The elf, clad in a standard issue Farstrider plate-and mail armor, flashed a salute by pressing a fist against his chest, then scurried off towards the army’s camp. Turning around once again, his speculations were affirmed. The alliance army was slowly being pushed backwards under the weight of despair as much as rivaling soldiers.
“Who wouldn’t be despairing when the heavens itself turned against you?” Drathun thought in a modicum of amusement.
In a surge of impulsivity, he raised his hand toward the sky, and a streaking bolt of brilliant poison - no - felgreen fire crashed into Alliance ranks, triggering a chorus of screams as response.
Swinging his scythe over his shoulder, he jumped off the rise he was standing on, and dashed towards the front lines, across medics treating bleeding patients with various methods and degrees of care, be it thread and needle, light, bandages or even shadow, all of them were fighting for lives, not their own, but others’.
Onwards he ran, across leather-clad Farstriders firing salvo’s of red-feathered arrows aimed for enemy’s lines, while blue-feathered arrows landed among his troops.
As the sound of various types of magic clashing into ground and flesh alike grew stronger, he came closer to melee combat.
Sweaty men and women in fist-thick plate armor wielding weapons ranging from underarm-long short swords to man-sized broadswords were fighting against others of the same kind, the only difference being the colors they wore, and the race they belonged to.
Among the confusion of battle, a Worgen clad in peasant’s clothes sprinted towards Drathun, holding a knife in front of him. Drathun gracefully side-stepped to avoid the attack, then reached behind him with his scythe, making a hundred eighty degree spin, beheading the dog-man with a fountain of blood.
Drathun turned around again, and was greeted by an arrow soaring across his cheek, to land in a gold-worked red shield with a yellow-haired Sin’dorei hiding behind it. As Drathun followed the arrow’s path backwards to the shooter, a ball of burning rock landed before him, and pushed him back as if he was hit by a wall.
Landing roughly on a human’s corpse, he had just enough time to recover before another human – a living one this time - lifted a longsword, hoping to impale him. Drathun frowned, and reached out for the power of fel, burning fire and frozen ice raging through his veins, and through all that, the black taint he welcomed oh so gladly, the corruption of demons.
The human shrieked in pure terror as his arm rotted away in mere instants, the sword landing next to Drathun. The rotting disease spread to the rest of his body, and as he gurgled through his decayed air pipe, the horrible yet so sweet smell of corruption filled the air around him.
Drathun stood up, slinging his scythe over his right shoulder as the last of the human’s flesh rotted away, leaving only armor and shreds of infected bone and sinew.
Suddenly, oversized thick-feathered chickens filled the battlefield, their long-eared riders stabbing at Alliance troops with lances and blades.
The silver-haired elf looked up at the sky, and had just enough warning to raise his hands above his head, before being engulfed in pitch-black darkness…

…darkness eternal.

Awareness, of a sort. He did not think of himself as he, he didn’t think at all, but he was aware.
A piercing chill all around, he did not know cold, but it was cold.
There was solitude, he had never encountered another person, but he was alone.
Suddenly, there was light in the darkness, dim, but bright to anyone who had never seen light before. The cold…changed…became warm to anyone who had not felt heat before. Something stirred, and the dim light became dazzlingly bright, the heat scorched every fiber of his being and the feeling of loneliness shattered when thousands and thousands other consciousnesses could be felt.
He heard a muted whisper, deafingly loud to one who had never heard sound before. The words – what were words? – became clear to him. “Rise, and serve the banshee queen!”
Those words couldn’t make sense to him – shouldn’t make sense – but yet they did.
And so, he opened his eyes.
A dusk-tainted sky with a breeze carrying the earthy scent of freshly-opened graves danced at the edge of awareness, all of his attention was focused on a black-winged transparent creature with beauty incomprehensible.
“Drathun.”
The creature’s lips didn’t move, yet the whisper made every inch of his skin crawl in ecstasy, the name tickled his memory as if he should recognize it, but he didn’t. The creature flew off, and left him to observe his surroundings. Dusk had been replaced by a watery morning sun, the light and warmth somehow muted.
Suddenly, he realized he was lying down in a hole – that explained the smell – and crawled out with unresponsive limbs. Once out of his grave, he looked back into the pit, and saw a metal shimmer. After brushing aside the earth, he uncovered a large metal scythe with a curvy inscription on the blade reading “Kisihn”.
He ran a thumb across the strange letters – how could he read them? – and a flash of faded-out colors appeared before his eyes, the face of a grumpy black-haired humanoid with long ears and eyebrows. He quickly turned the scythe around, and found yet another name inscribed. Azrael.
Before he even had time to avert his eyes, another face appeared before his eyes, of the same race as the previous one, he suspected, this one had long slicked silver hair, and two parallel scars across his visage.
“Father”
The hoarse rasp that escaped from his throat sounded oh so familiar, but the memories to go with it just wouldn’t come. Deciding there is no point in dwelling on a lost past, he slung the scythe over his shoulder – a gesture that also struck him as familiar – and followed the road leading to a small town.
Along the road, several other transparent creatures were…returning life to the dead, sometimes seemingly against their intentions. Was I alive once? Am I dead? Even if he found the answers, they mattered not, he knew who he was.

Drathun.

This was a tough one, on one hand you are walonian, on the other hand the Application is awesome, so much so very awesome I will let go of the fact you are walonian! A certain pass from me, and once another officer seconds me- shouldn't be along- We will do the IC interview and get you into the guild.