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Darkness Rising (Open RP)
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for the prologue to this Open RP. ))
The Black Wyrm Deathwing, the Destroyer of Worlds and Aspect of Death, has been slain, put to death by the combined might of Horde and Alliance champions at the request of his own son. But the war between the two factions, although delayed, is only just beginning. The Pandarians of the Wandering Isles have made their choices, various individuals either siding with the Alliance or the Horde, and the two factions ready their recently-bolstered armies and their ever-growing hatred of each other for the conflict to come. The stage is set for war, and this time there is nothing to hold them back.
But before the great performance of war can begin anew, a different evil seems intent on making its presence known across Azeroth. From Kalimdor to the Eastern Kingdoms, unconfirmed reports of dark riders have been reaching the ears of faction leaders. The tales told speak of its tellers being watched, tracked, by men and women of various races, all clothed in dark armor and seated upon undead mounts. These riders approached those who speak of them in the wilderness, but never to talk to them. They speak to others within the company of the storyteller, and the riders promise them various things; power, wealth, freedom, all in exchange for their loyalty.
If they accept they join the rider and leave the group, if they do not, then the rider descends upon them with ungodly fury to slaughter the whole group. Only a very small number have survived the later experience to speak of it. But what are these riders gathering men and women for? What is the purpose behind their collecting of Azeroth’s willing?
No one is sure, but there is one detail that cannot be ignored; they seek out only individuals with… looser morals. Those with a history of violence or greed are the ones asked to join them, even if more powerful individuals are present amongst them. It is clear that whoever is behind this gathering seeks only evil men and women, but for what purpose? What design?
That is for them to find out, and those who believe that a great evil is afoot to try and stop; or, for those seeking the power or wealth promised by these riders, to join and aid it.
Before whatever darkness that is brewing spreads to consume all of Azeroth in its wake.
Welcome to Darkness Rising. This RP is purely player-driven, but there is a main storyline for those eager to delve into the story of the Freedom Riders and the ultimate goals of their actions. Doing so is completely optional, however, and you are free to create your own plots at will.
The timeframe for this is some point between Cataclysm and Mists of Pandaria; the changes to the old world are present, although many of them have already been completed, and Pandaria itself is not initially available for exploration although the pandarian race and monk class are. Northrend and Outland are also completely open to adventurers to explore and create their own stories within.
Enjoy yourselves, god-mode as little as possible, and try not to break the fourth wall. It was just recently repaired.
(( I slightly feel bad for looking on the forums and seeing that no one is doing anything here ))
(( Well there are a lot of other RPs going on, didn't expect TKG to get the second rez it did and Genesis took what little free room there was for an RP. All in all I should have waited a little longer to post this. ))
(( I keep thinking about reading but then i get distracted by something else. I just thought that if i did join this i would most likely use my alliance character idea. ))
((maybe repost this one later? Interested in joining. Thinking of an undead rogue named Aetius Necitore))
(##RESPBREAK##)8##DELIM##sas148##DELIM##There is no need to possibly cause any drama by making such a comment.
Location: Shadowheart Chapel, Brill
“… Let us not forget the living’s crimes again us,” Amanda said to the congregation gathered before her, “crimes that are far too expensive to count in their entirety. These crimes are those of greed, heresy, violence, and betrayal amongst so many more.
“We all know of their betrayal; how they turned on us, their own kin, when we were turned into what we are. Their violence is also well known; their strikes against us, their want to eradicate us from the face of Azeroth. And their greed, their lust for the lands that are rightfully ours, runs thick through their veins.
“But perhaps their greatest sin is that of their heresy, their turning their backs on us through their religion. Does their Light not seek them to respect their brothers and sisters? And are we not their brothers and sisters? Does their Light not command them to be compassionate towards others? Are we, those who suffered and died in our lands instead of fleeing and abandoning our homes and families, not more deserving of compassion than any others?”
She paused briefly, letting the words sink in to the gathered masses. They were all listening intently, they always did; even those who were not full members of her church, even those who were merely visiting from elsewhere. The passion with which she spoke, the strength and power she put into each word she said, demanded such attention, and she knew it.
She began to speak again. “Their Light, their precious purity of spirit and comforting force, is as twisted as their morals. The Shadow holds no such biases. The respect we show to our enemies is evident; have we not fought the war as they have? Have we not met them head-to-head on the battlefield? And what did they do in response? They began to send assassins to our leaders; they set traps and lurked in the shadows to stab us in the back.
“We are even more true to their own virtues than they are. Are we not the truly compassionate ones? Where one of them falls to us, do we not help them to stand again? When they throw their lives away in their quest to eradicate us, to murder us, to commit genocide against those who have fallen prey to it already, do we not give them another chance at life through undeath? Do we not allow them to make their own choices upon their rebirth?
“Where there is Light, there much always be Shadow; where there is life, there must also be death. We are simply fulfilling a role that has been long left unfilled. We are a balance upon this world, but we are seen as a corruptor of it by all others? Who is the true corruptor, I ask you; who truly wishes to see the world be pushed off balance? Let us pray.”
She bowed her head, and each of her disciples and a large group of her congregation did the same as well. “Through my respect of my enemies, I will not fall to them. Through my unfailing tenacity, I will never be halted in my goals. Through my vast power, I will destroy all who attempt to prevent me from gaining more. Through my compassion for my people, the Forsaken will stay strong. Through all of these, I will become Death." She lifted her head. “May the Shadow and Dark Lady watch over all of you.”
The congregation began to disperse.
Location: Aghal Manor, Eastern Plaguelands
He should have known better to trust Morec, he should have known immediately upon seeing the change in the death knight’s personality that he was not to be trusted; that there was a deception at play, a trap he was walking straight into. But how could he have known? He couldn’t have, but the fact he had been tricked as such disgusted him. Disgusting him more so were those he worked alongside.
The living, the “Freedom Riders” as Morec had introduced them; students of Morec and his… varied magics. Yes, there were undead amongst them, but for the most part those that served the death knight lived and breathed, ate and slept, and the fact Vrem was working alongside those whom he despised the most disgusted him.
But it was far too late to back out now, far too late to leave Morec to his scheming; and a part of him didn’t want to. Yes, he was working alongside the living, but his goals and actions had not changed. In fact, his hunts had become larger and more successful than they ever had been before. Dozens of living dead by the day, hundreds within one month, and all with no consequences other than those looking into the deaths as they always did. He was all but untouchable because of the protection Morec’s underlings provided and the influence the death knight had begun to cultivate amongst the Undercity with Amanda’s help. Moreso due to Lady Shadowheart; Morec was still working on ascending out of obscurity, albeit at a rappid pace but he still had a ways to go.
Even so, he had not heard from “Lord Rivendare,” as he was preferring to be called now, in many weeks. The death knight had locked himself within the depths of Scholomance, and with both his and Lady Shadowheart’s followers having yet to take up the residence Morec had prepared for them in the former school of necromancy there was no way of known what he was doing in there. Vrem had his speculations, of course; Morec was performing his experiments with that Voss girl. Trying to “tap into her powers” or something like that. The marksman did not care, but he needed to know what the death knight was planning.
“Gabriel,” he said, a large undead warrior striding over to him as his name was called. “I have a message for you to deliver.”
Morec, House of Rivendare
, Fal’uci, Ras, Fright, The Masked Swordsman, Voyd,
Location: Scholomance, Western Plaguelands
Lilian’s eyes slowly opened as she heard the sound of bone rapping against metal. Should she have been hearing that? Was that the sound of being ushered into the Light? Or was it the sound of being ushered into the Shadows? She didn’t care one way or another, all she wanted was for her life to be over and her afterlife to being – no matter what kind of afterlife it was.
But… no, something was wrong. She didn’t feel… different. She could find no difference in the way she had felt before death and the way she felt now. Was… was that normal? Should she still be-
Then her memories flooded back to her. She had almost been to the Light – or the Shadow, she couldn’t remember which – when something had forcibly jerked her back into her body. She had lashed out at those around her and she remembered the spilling of blood, so much blood, and the screams of terror and pain, so many screams…
“Wakey, wakey, little Voss girl,” an echoing voice with an air of malice around it spoke to her. “There is much to be done; and so little time to do it.”
Her eyes shot open and she instinctively tried to pull her body into a position from which she could defend herself, only to find herself struggling against bonds she could not break. She looked over to her left, and then her right; both her arms, and her legs too, were bound by green energy. With her rage building she attempted to call upon the dark powers she had found herself capable of after her descent into undead, only to fail to properly call upon them.
“Surpised? I thought you would be, after all there are always repercussions when one returns from over the line of death.”
“Who are you?” she hissed. “What do you want with me?”
“You may call me Morec, Lord Rivendare, or bastard, any of those three works fine,” the death knight said. “Although I’m sure you will come to favor the third option. As for what I want; I want to understand; to know; to utilize. I was to learn about those strange powers you have, Lilian Voss, and I want to command them for myself.”
“And what happens to me after that?” Voss said, getting straight to the point.
“Well, after that…,” Morec grinned. “You have my permission to die.”
Voss looked him straight in his glowing-blue eyes, a mirror of her own. “What do you want to know?”
“Tsk, tsk,” Morec wagged a finger at her. “If it were that simple I wouldn’t have you bound, but it’s not, is it? No, you can’t simply tell me what I need to know, I have to find out for myself. I will have to delve deep into your very soul and find the different points, the combinations of magic, the strange, inner-powers that give you the abilities you have.” He pulled conjured sparks of glowing green magic. “And I won’t lie to you; it will be painful.”
Voss quickly learned he had been speaking the truth.
((ooc: Axe is only background char))
A fully covered figure in a black cape and hood that covers the entire body, that walks making nearly no sound. Only on close-range, an elven nose would sense the slightest odor of undeath, alongside the one of burned flesh. Aetius is quite the skilled rogue, mercenary to the one who will pay him, in gold, or in power.
Aetius waved at the huge orc he was talking too: "My contract is done and I'm off. It was a pleasure to know you as companion, Axe. You sure you don't want me to find out your real identity? At a price, of course."
Axe then said: "No, things are fine as they are right now." Elaea's knee hadn't fully healed yet, so she still remained at the couple's hut in the outskirts of Orgrimmar. The orc was fine with what he had now: He had been transferred temporarily to Orgrimmar's kitchen as a cook, so he could stay with Elaea most of the time.
Aetius then said: "Good bye, for now, then. I hope I'm never hired to kill you." The rogue then vanished, and thought about what he had spied. A group of fighters striving for total chaos, and power. The engineers at the zeppelin going to the Glades sensed a presence, but as they didn't notice anything out of usual, continued their work. Aetius, hid in the shadows, thought: "I must impress the leader. A contract for the power he might give me, is too much worth to let pass".
((Morec let's carry this on. Maybe more people will start joining.))
((Morec let's carry this on. Maybe more people will start joining.))
(( Here's hoping. ))
Location: Orgrimar Zepplin, en route to Undercity
A tall figure, all but a rough shape of his body hidden underneath a long black coat, walked past where Aetius was hiding without so much as turning his head untill he reached a chair on the other side and sat down in it. His feet clinked against the wood, and the general sound of metal-again-metal sounded as he walked. The fel-glow green in the shape of two eyes that glowed from the shadows of his cowl hinted that he might be a blood elf, and certified that he was fel-tainted in some way. Around his waist was a shortsword in its sheath, the hilt of which ended in a skull-designed pommel.
He made no effort to speak to anyone aboard the zepplin, nor did he seem to be paying attention to anything going on around him. Whenever he was approached by a crew member - usually for them to just pass by him - he simply stared dead ahead, ignoring that they were there, seemingly lost to trance.
As the zeppelin went on, Aetius wondered about the cloaked figure: "Could he be one of them? The kind of walking wasn't the usual of what seemed to belong to the typical soldier. Most were trained to walk with minimal noise, in order not to arouse suspicion. Axe and the Warchief are among the few I've seen walk like this. If the figure was a blood elf, that was even more strange, since elves walked almost silently, their rogues with silence only matched by a few, included himself. At least I know he's powerful. The reason he ignores everything, maybe he is looking for someone or something?" The zeppelin arrived to the tower, and as Aetius sneaked out, he passed by the ship captain, and whispered in a voice only audible by him: "The ticket price. I don't like to avoid paying it", while slipping five gold coins into the captain's pocket. Aetius had in mind what to do: Follow the cloaked being to know if he, or she, was related to the order he had heard about.
(( thinking about joining but it would be first time forum RPing... ))
((just plan out your character, and avoid godmodding (which is making ur char too OP). I'm relatively a newbie too.))
(( Check out the
Open RP Q&A
and ask there if you have any questions or are looking for tips, Shockbent. And try to keep all non-character posts to that thread as well. ))
Location: Zepplin Tower, Tirisfal Glades
The cloaked figure walked off of the zepplin, past the captain.
"Hey!" the goblin yelled, jumping to block the character's path. "Where do you think yer goin'? This isn't a charity, pal! You pay or you pay, if ya get my meaning."
"I do," the figure said, thalassian accent in his masculine voice. He lifted a hand and waved it infront of the zepplin captain.
The goblin's neck was frozen in a block of ice that filled even his throat. Choking and quickly losing conciousness from lack of air, the captain fell to the deck of his airship. Seeing this, the bruisers on the dock rushed to assault the cloaked elf, only to be knocked to the side by a wave of arcane energy; the path cleared, the cloaked man ran past them.
Waiting for him further down, though, were more bruisers: too many for any one person to deal with.
So the cloaked man turned and lept over the railing, plummeting downwards towards the ground. At a mere seven feet away from a crashing demise, he vanished in a blink of magic light, reappearing two yards away to continue his fall on a horrizontal path. He hit the ground with a roll and then leapt into the air downhill. At the bottom of the hill began to form a unholy steed, upon which the elf landed, spurred, and then rode directly towards the Plaguelands.
:Lights hope chapel
Shockbent is a fairly alive looking (normal undead look but more flesh/less bones showing is what I mean)assassin who enjoys killing others. He doesn't care what side they are with as long as he gets payed for killing them.His armor is the Ruthless Gladiator's Vestments set and weapons are Vengeful Gladiator's Left Ripper and Vengeful Gladiator's Right Ripper. He enjoys seeing other people fight but prefers to be fighting. He is slightly hard to anger unless his target gets away. If that happens you might want to ignore him. He's sociable when not on duty.
This post was from a user who has deleted their account.
Lights hope chapel, eastern plague lands
Shockbent quietly waited in the chapel for something of importance to happen.
This post was from a user who has deleted their account.
Location:lights hope chapel
A box lands on the table In front of shockbent. "What the heck is this?" shockbent looked at the crusader briefing him about his mission.
(( the box is the transmitter))
Leopold Chopin, Damon
Light's Hope Chapel
Leopold is a tall and thin flamboyant man, with a bright, high collared red coat open over a white undershirt and pants. Frills explode from his collar and sleeves like plumes of white, a similar shade of feather lifting merrily from a large black cavalier hat which barely fits on top of his thick, rolling white hair.
Damon dresses as he is, conservatively. Wearing black robes which stretch from his stiff collar to his knees and pants of a similar colour, he wears an expression of perpetual boredom, often tinged with disdain. He is bony like his companion with a long face and thin black hair neatly combed back in a widows peak.
The door to the chapel banged open from a sharp kick. Standing framed in the doorway was a peacock of a tall man, with a broad brimmed hat, blindingly blood red coat and a rather fetching white kerchief. Tucked beneath his arm was a large, yellow billed duck, which glanced around the room with beady black eyes. Leopold's yellow eyes scanned the room, Damon at the mans shoulder with an blank expression.
Saying nothing, Leopold went and sat down at a table, the duck in his arm quacking at the motion.
Light's Hope Chapel
Shockbent and the crusader turned and watched with their eyes following Leopold until he sat down.
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