Lupen
07-26-2006, 11:31 AM
Lupen’s breathing had become slower than normal, suppressed, watered down. Though Forsaken are rarely “sick” on any normal viruses or bacteria, Lupen had felt rather sick, what’s left of his lungs and stomach had been bothering him the past few days. Constant fits of vomiting and the coughing up ebony blood were common. Most probably to the pleasure of his Grim comrades, he had been speaking far less than normal, as it hurt to use the throat. Aside from these problems, his head had been throbbing violently during times of stress.
Syreena, a Forsaken Rogue, and a Grim. Lupen, though he refuses to admit it, considers her a close friend. Not long ago, a package was dropped off at the Grim Halls, addressed to the Dread Mage, from the young Rogue. It contained a small Red Rose and a crude, “Get well” sort of note. It was odd that she had noticed his condition, as he had tried to keep it secret, perhaps it was merely his decreased mood that gave it away. He hoped that no one else had realized how dark he had been acting in the recent past, far darker than usual. He feared the worst.
The Grim had just left the Ruins of Ahn'Qiraj, slaying the massive scorpion and the General Rajaxx. They had left VIA mage portals… Lupen did not truly mind the Arcane Energies, but he did mind the crowding to get through them. His head throbbed violently, he spared no time in leaving the Trollish Mage Hut in the Orc City, summoning his Dreadsteed as soon as he could. To the bank first, then to the Grim Hall to retire… It had been a long night.
The air was thick, dreadfully thick, terrible, horrid, unbearable. Lupen spit up a bit of black blood and coughed. He could not wait to get to his coffin… The only true sanctuary. Nearly there, he dismounted and dismissed his Demon-Horse. Lupen walked slowly up the pathway, the stones hardly moving under his weakened feet. Every step further brought more pain throughout his body, each breath heavier than the last. The Dark Forsaken bowed his head down slowly, letting the blood drain from his mouth and nose. His body spazzed violently, unleashing a torrent of blood onto the ground, he followed shortly thereafter. He was cold and alone on the hard ground. The Demons were winning.
Less than a year ago, as many of the Grims vividly remember, he had been taken into the Nether by one of the darkest Demon-Wenches. The Sand Troll, Warneshi, knew much about them… He knew this demon personally… He was the first to witness Lupen fall this time ago. “Help me… Brother…” Lupen had muttered. Warneshi only smirked and told him “not to fight it”, as it “would be all over soon.” Other Grims came into Brill’s Town Hall, to see Lupen knelt over, and Warneshi standing over, emotionless. For some time, Lupen was banished to Xoroth, the land of Demons, a hellish place of Green Flames and the Darkest Ones. The vampiric succubi feasting upon the rotted flesh, the dread Nathrezim looming over, 4 of them stood atop the pillars of flame and doom, watching the young Warlock writhe in pain as the Manahounds were released into the pit. Lupen was chained to a rock slab, unable to move anything but his head, he would yell out in agony after each bit of his Dark Mana Essence was drained from him. His blood was a deep red then.
Nearly a week and a half, Azeroth Standard Time, The Grims were led by Warneshi Sandscalp to The Dark Portal in the Blasted Lands, which, though tapped to the Outland, could be used to channel into Xoroth. Warneshi swore at The Cursed Wench before he jumped into the portal himself. To the Grims outside the portal, as soon as Warneshi jumped in, Lupen had been ejected out, time moved much slower in Xoroth. What seemed like seconds to Azeroth’s members was several minutes in Xoroth. He heard Warneshi in the distance; he heard his Half-Demon hissing voice atop the Felguards, which yelled out in Demonic, “Intruder! The Tyrant returns!” Lupen would have smiled if he could, but his body, mind, and soul were drained. The Tyrant approached the slab, breaking the Demons around with relative ease. Sandscalp said nothing, but merely looked angrily at Lupen, who stared back emotionless. Warneshi had opened his mouth and uttered a few words, but Lupen could not hear them. With one swift movement, Warnesshi broke the horrid bindings, and sent Lupen on his way, toward the portal… Lupen looked back once, to see Warneshi being swarmed by Dreadlords, the Warlock attempted to turn and fight, but realized he would be worthlessness. Warneshi came out of the portal, hurt, but alive, not long after Lupen had.
Much time had passed since those days; Lupen had finished his training, and suppressed his Demonic Corruption (though he had a nasty tendency to utter words in the Demonic tongue from time to time, much to the dismay of Bloodscream and Skash.) He made short work of most anything that came his way, be it Demons, Fiends of the Core, Hakkar’s Minions, or even Alliance… He would silently think about his debt to the Sand Troll, but now, now it is time to repay it.
((No metagaming here, I checked it with Warneshi to make sure this is alright :) ))
Syreena, a Forsaken Rogue, and a Grim. Lupen, though he refuses to admit it, considers her a close friend. Not long ago, a package was dropped off at the Grim Halls, addressed to the Dread Mage, from the young Rogue. It contained a small Red Rose and a crude, “Get well” sort of note. It was odd that she had noticed his condition, as he had tried to keep it secret, perhaps it was merely his decreased mood that gave it away. He hoped that no one else had realized how dark he had been acting in the recent past, far darker than usual. He feared the worst.
The Grim had just left the Ruins of Ahn'Qiraj, slaying the massive scorpion and the General Rajaxx. They had left VIA mage portals… Lupen did not truly mind the Arcane Energies, but he did mind the crowding to get through them. His head throbbed violently, he spared no time in leaving the Trollish Mage Hut in the Orc City, summoning his Dreadsteed as soon as he could. To the bank first, then to the Grim Hall to retire… It had been a long night.
The air was thick, dreadfully thick, terrible, horrid, unbearable. Lupen spit up a bit of black blood and coughed. He could not wait to get to his coffin… The only true sanctuary. Nearly there, he dismounted and dismissed his Demon-Horse. Lupen walked slowly up the pathway, the stones hardly moving under his weakened feet. Every step further brought more pain throughout his body, each breath heavier than the last. The Dark Forsaken bowed his head down slowly, letting the blood drain from his mouth and nose. His body spazzed violently, unleashing a torrent of blood onto the ground, he followed shortly thereafter. He was cold and alone on the hard ground. The Demons were winning.
Less than a year ago, as many of the Grims vividly remember, he had been taken into the Nether by one of the darkest Demon-Wenches. The Sand Troll, Warneshi, knew much about them… He knew this demon personally… He was the first to witness Lupen fall this time ago. “Help me… Brother…” Lupen had muttered. Warneshi only smirked and told him “not to fight it”, as it “would be all over soon.” Other Grims came into Brill’s Town Hall, to see Lupen knelt over, and Warneshi standing over, emotionless. For some time, Lupen was banished to Xoroth, the land of Demons, a hellish place of Green Flames and the Darkest Ones. The vampiric succubi feasting upon the rotted flesh, the dread Nathrezim looming over, 4 of them stood atop the pillars of flame and doom, watching the young Warlock writhe in pain as the Manahounds were released into the pit. Lupen was chained to a rock slab, unable to move anything but his head, he would yell out in agony after each bit of his Dark Mana Essence was drained from him. His blood was a deep red then.
Nearly a week and a half, Azeroth Standard Time, The Grims were led by Warneshi Sandscalp to The Dark Portal in the Blasted Lands, which, though tapped to the Outland, could be used to channel into Xoroth. Warneshi swore at The Cursed Wench before he jumped into the portal himself. To the Grims outside the portal, as soon as Warneshi jumped in, Lupen had been ejected out, time moved much slower in Xoroth. What seemed like seconds to Azeroth’s members was several minutes in Xoroth. He heard Warneshi in the distance; he heard his Half-Demon hissing voice atop the Felguards, which yelled out in Demonic, “Intruder! The Tyrant returns!” Lupen would have smiled if he could, but his body, mind, and soul were drained. The Tyrant approached the slab, breaking the Demons around with relative ease. Sandscalp said nothing, but merely looked angrily at Lupen, who stared back emotionless. Warneshi had opened his mouth and uttered a few words, but Lupen could not hear them. With one swift movement, Warnesshi broke the horrid bindings, and sent Lupen on his way, toward the portal… Lupen looked back once, to see Warneshi being swarmed by Dreadlords, the Warlock attempted to turn and fight, but realized he would be worthlessness. Warneshi came out of the portal, hurt, but alive, not long after Lupen had.
Much time had passed since those days; Lupen had finished his training, and suppressed his Demonic Corruption (though he had a nasty tendency to utter words in the Demonic tongue from time to time, much to the dismay of Bloodscream and Skash.) He made short work of most anything that came his way, be it Demons, Fiends of the Core, Hakkar’s Minions, or even Alliance… He would silently think about his debt to the Sand Troll, but now, now it is time to repay it.
((No metagaming here, I checked it with Warneshi to make sure this is alright :) ))