This thread will serve as a place for me to write down the thoughts, events, and concerns of Gregarian. Please feel free to comment with anything that comes to mind well reading it.
Entry One: It is a dark and dreary place that I find myself at this moment. Ambushed and assassinated well on my way to a conference of men dedicated to destroying the very thing I have become. What kind of sick beast had the gall to raise me from the dead. Me, Gregarian Highpeak! The filth even acted almost sympathetic to my case. The one that was with me when I awoke told me that I should offer my allegiance to those who once lived in Lordaeron, that I should offer my services to the undead scum. I hate them! I despise them... yet I cannot escape the truth in what that rotting man said. I am dead now, perhaps I need to rethink things, perhaps things can change. I don't know what to do. I still yet wear my tattered Scarlet tabard and damaged armor, but I am not that same man that put it on just yesterday.
Regardless of my loyalty something else is troubling me greatly. I hear a voice in my head from time to time now. It speaks in a language that I cannot begin to understand, yet it feels powerful. Some entity, some powerful being is trying to tell me something. I must know what it is before I do anything, I must find out what it is that stalks me in my mind.
Entry Two: It is now day two of my damnation. I spent the night seeking a place in which I might call "home". I was lucky enough to come upon an old abandoned Scarlet outpost, the strong stone walls of it's central keep will keep the wind and rain at bay. I am only now starting to realize why the undead have been so hard to defeat. They have no need for food, water, or rest. I trudged on for nearly twelve hours straight and yet I don't feel weary in the slightest, on of the few benefits of this curse I suppose. I have spent my time in the outpost reading as much as I can about anything that I can in a desperate attempt to distract myself from this cruel fate. So far the books on the philosophies of the Holy Light that I so used to adore have left me feeling hollow. Could I be losing my faith? The voice in my head continues to speak to me in it's alien tongue. However I believe I know what language it is now. Demonic, the speech of the Burning Legion. I found this out after one of the report books left behind in the keep mentioned a few words in demonic that a warlock they had captured said. They were the same words that the voice in my mind spoke and translate to something along the lines of "Drink in the power". I'm not sure what that means, perhaps the warlocks will know more. I shall head to the Undercity and see if the warlocks there can aid me.
Entry Three: As the sun rises over this dreary land I can almost feel a faint spark of hope in my cold lifeless heart. I managed to make my way to the Undercity by walking through the night. I am yet again surprised by my seemingly endless endurance, one of the few boons bestowed by this dreadful curse. Well I walked I read one of the books I brought with me from the Scarlet outpost by candlelight. It was the journal cataloging the words and actions of a captured Forsaken warlock. He seems to have been caught after slaying half a dozen Crusaders and consuming their souls. Fortunately a Paladin was able to best him in combat and they took him in for interrogation. The powers that he wielded seem beyond impressive, I have to assume there was some level of exaggeration on the part of the interrogator. Regardless, it would seem that the caster was truly skilled in the art and that he had the favor of some greater demon that eventually destroyed him for his failure. Now that I've arrived in the Undercity it is my intent to meet with some of the warlocks here to see if they can help me with the voice in my head. Oddly enough the long I hear it the less and less I mind it. It has become a comforting thing in a world where everything seems horrific and alien to me. Perhaps I will one day be able to communicate with whatever demon it is that is trying to speak with me. I actually think I'd enjoy that. If the Light cannot help me, perhaps demons can? Regardless I will do whatever it takes to restore prestige and destroy those who would think they could use me.
Entry Four: Yet another day dawns, yet I feel as though no time has passed at all. I was able to successfully meet with some of the warlocks in the magic quarter. I approached them cautiously, the stories I'd been told about warlocks made me sure to not anger them. I of course received strange looks, likely because I still wore my tattered Scarlet tabard. Regardless these wrenched men and women were surprisingly friendly and seemed more then happy to aid me with my predicament. I worked with two warlocks who claimed to specialize in demons on the task on translating the words that were constantly filling my head. Piece by piece we were able to make out what was being spoken, I have written our findings below.
"Find theweak vessel, take from it what is yours, seek me out, drink in the power."
The two warlocks that helped me debated on what it meant. One believed a member of the Burning Legion was reaching out to me, the other claimed it was simply the remains of defeated demon that had been unfortunately bound to my soul when we both died near one another. I'm myself am not sure, but either way they arranged for me to speak to a soul binder today hopefully he will be able to shed some light on this mystery.
Entry Five: Today has thus far been one of momentous occasions. I went to speak with the soul binder, only to find out that he'd been slain earlier that morning when one of his spells went awry and obliterated his very essence. Although I was unable to speak with him I was did stay to watch the teaching of novice warlocks. The master summoner showed them a variety of demons they could summon from the puny imp to the mighty voidwalker. Such power, the ability to summon great and powerful beings to serve at your whim is incredible. Perhaps I'm just losing my mind due to the slow decay of undeath, but such power would be an excellent replacement for my soldiers and guards. I spent a few hours discussing the mindset of demons with the summoner after he was done with his display and he promised to help teach me how to summon an imp. Strangely enough the voice in my head seemed pleased by this turn of events, it's words were calmer and more pleasant compared to their earlier demanding tone.
It was after I had left the warlocks that I remembered what the Forsaken who had been with me had said upon my rebirth. Some about "The Nexus" and wearing "The bones". I ask around a little bit before I finally found someone who seemed to have heard about such a thing. He directed me to the inn in Ambermill saying that they will sometimes have gatherings there. I'm going to go there tonight, hopefully they can shed some light on what I'm to do with myself and why I was raised.
Serata: I am desperately stalling and trying to find something to do with myself at work. Posted a bunch of stuff about Sherbourne so y'all know who she is and what she looks like...and I still have 4 1/2 hours left before I can go home and play again. T_T
Aug 31, 2016 6:28:52 GMT
Banshih: Yay for stalling? Yay for rp campaign starting soon!
Sept 12, 2016 23:04:21 GMT
Banshih: Thanks for another great Dance Of The Dead!
Oct 27, 2016 12:23:26 GMT