Welcome
You have to register before you can post on our site.

Username:
  

Password:
  




Latest Threads
A guild games (for real this time)
Last Post: Zlinka
05-20-2020 06:34 PM
» Replies: 1
» Views: 1643
Alliance-Horde pet exchange
Last Post: Zlinka
05-16-2020 07:11 AM
» Replies: 3
» Views: 942
Il'gynoth
Last Post: Zlinka
05-14-2020 02:51 PM
» Replies: 1
» Views: 745
Vexiona
Last Post: Zlinka
05-07-2020 05:13 PM
» Replies: 1
» Views: 865
Drest'agath
Last Post: Zlinka
04-22-2020 07:17 AM
» Replies: 3
» Views: 1175

Who's Online
There are currently no members online.

"Arcane Fury" - The Christopher Darkk Story
#1
My name is Christopher. Christopher Darkk, to be more precise. However, as for one befitting a servant of The Dark Lady, I am generally referred to by my surname, Darkk.

My calling...my vocation...my destined path...call it what you will...my curse since awakening alone and lost in that old, damp casket...has been that of a Magister. The Arcane Arts to be more specific.

For those of us in the service of Lady Windrunner, there are two stories. Two personal histories. Our lives before and our current paths of the Forsaken. My life before was a smiple and humble one at best. An Alchemist by heritage and tradition, my family established an operated a small potion and remedy shop in the village of Brill. Educated by life instead of school, my skills as an alchemist blossomed into their peak before my 30th birthday. I knew nothing of magic and her mysteries, nor did I have the desire to explore them. Until I was awakened in that dusty basement of the chapel of Deathknell. Awakened not by sound, light or movement...but by a hunger. A ravenous hunger for knowledge of Arcane magic. It embodied my motivation for everything that lay before me. Robbed of the simple pleasures of life...breath, hunger, emotion, even sleep ,the only thing that exsisted within my broken and awkward new vessel was a desire to let the exstasy of magic flow thru my bones. I sought out only the finest of Mages to hone my talents. I begin my journey there...that night in Deathknell. What began as a hunger to envoke that which stirred within me later became my destiny. Now, emplored by Lady Windrunner, I go where I must, I face what I must and I use the cursed Arcane Fury that dwells in the place my soul used to be for the strength, for the honor and for the ultimate Glory for the Horde...

The only thing I have taken with me from my previous life after awakening as a Forsaken Soldier, was the profession of Alchemy. And as such, I retained the ability to gather and utilze various plants and herbs for my brewing.

There was a point, though short lived, that I untied with a band of soldiers under the banner <Of Blood and Bone>. As with most regiments of war, there were internal struggles that ultimately seperated the group at her seams. I will not attempt to offer the deception that I have retained unities throughout my Forsaken path. There have been a select few. Very few indeed. For the majority of my post life has been spent alone, at war within myself to retain some of the smaller amenaties of the living but with poor sucess. I am, however, currently aligned with a very select group of high end Horde elite. We operate under the flag <Blood and Thunder>. I can assure you that there is no ill will between myself and them and my desire to offer my services to <The Ironsong Tribe> are driven by my hunger for advancement in my cursed gift and by a desire to bring honor to my Lady Sylvanas.

I regret to admit that i have denied myself the privalege of teaming with an Ironsong member. However, I also must admit, that my journey is one that has traversed many lands and many trials. I have seen warriors of all races and abilities throughout these lands and they each hold the mark of my respect as a member of The Horde. It is this long built and mutual respect that has me on the preverbial altar of The Ironsong Tribe now.

The trials and tribulations of my path have basically gone unranked for my personal interest, however, being that this is the questioned asked of me, I will share one of my more memorable undertakings. It must have been a little over one year past since I last braved the depths of the Temple of Atal'Hakkar. It was in her belly that myself and four other comrades sought a battle with the Avatar of Hakkar himself. Hours and hours passed as we fought our way into the darkness of the temple. Fatigued and battle torn, we found our destination and managed to envoke the Avatar into physical form for the final battle. We fought with much honor but little sense and soon found ourselves on Death's Door. Our great Warrior had fallen at Hakkar's merciless attacks, which left the remaining four of us facing great peril unless something shifted the odds in our favor. None the less, all seemed loss. I recall the terrible memory of our Hunter, mourning his fallen pet as Hakkar ended his misery. Soon, there was only myself and a humble priest that stood alone in the Avatar's Chamber. She managed to secured one last spell before her demise and as the shield of Light encircled my body, i had but one choice to make. Join my comrades at the grave yard or end this battle in a kamakazi rage of magic and fortitude. I stood there, face to face with this monstrosity breathing into my nostrils. As his jowls began to glow, ... so did my own hands. A surge of magic more powerful than any I had experienced erupted from my hands in a rage of Arcane Missles blasting my foe over and over again. The rush was intoxicating. Endless, unforgiving, two magical forces at odds. One was going to win and the other would lie at the victors feet, ... defeated. I opened my lungs and let forth a scream of rage as I struggled to maintain focus while the energy drained from my body. I could feel him weakening, slowly giving in to the agony of defeat. And then it happened. The shield cast by the Priest broke as the giant Avatar of Hakkar roared in pain and fell at my feet, ... defeated once again. Unable to stand, I collapsed into a heap on the ground until help arrived in the form of an Ahnk in the hand of our Shaman. It was here, in the depths of The Sunken Temple, that I learned one of my most valuled lessons. A victory, even one that is much less graceful than expected or even hoped for, ... is a victory none the less.

Upon the re-opening of The Dark Portal and my travels within Outland, I have heard tell of a legendary armor. The Trisfal Regaila. While thusfar into my Forsaken path, my only desire and goal has been that of advancement in knowledge and ability, I must admit to you, that I now hunger for this Trisfal Regalia as well. It is an armor named for my homeland. My rumors tell me that it can unlock powers deep inside even the most battle hardened Mages that were previously unreachable. My desires, my goal, ... is to seek out the truth to this armor. To seek out her location and kneel before her and ask for the privalege , ... to don her robes with honor and glory.

There is no one area of Azeroth that I enjoy more than another. There is no greater thrill and excitment of engaging in battle. I fight, honorably and without mercy, to the death. It is here, that I gain my knowledge and my desires. For each spell I cast propels me one step closer to fufilling my destiny.

I have indeed ben briefed on what is expected of me and of all members of the Tribe. I understand it, without question and I believe it to be a well versed and refreshing addition to a well known and widely respected Banner, that I will be humbled and honored to be a member of.

I Am Forsaken...
Christopher Darkk


Forum Jump:


Users browsing this thread: 1 Guest(s)
This forum uses Lukasz Tkacz MyBB addons.