Maledictus
01-28-2006, 11:39 PM
The days before the burial of the priest known as Maledictus were filled with despair. His cataract-addled sight saw sin and corruption growing at every turn: unbridled Lust among Horde members, Intoxication at the taverns, and Disrespect shown to fellow Horde members.
A Dwarven ambassador was openly allowed sanctuary within the Orcish capitol of Orgrimmar, with the purpose of cooperation with the Alliance to fight the new enemy in Silithus. The nature-loving Tauren druids of Moonglade consorted openly with sinful Night Elves. Traveling pagan gypsies, calling themselves the Lunar Festival, lured Forsaken away from the teachings of Sylvanas with promises of idle trinkets.
To make matters worse, his daily petitions of the Forsaken Queen Sylvanas Windrunner for instructions on how to deal with sinners went unanswered. She remained as maddeningly aloof as ever.
With slavish devotion, the dead priest scrutinized her every movement for a sign of recognition. Sylvanas stared ahead, unresponsive to Maledictus' praise, only shifting her posture every so often, as if mocking his vigilance.
No longer able to bear these developments, the tormented mind of Maledictus sank deeper into paranoid dementia. He viewed recent events as a conspiracy by the living races bent on weakening the Forsaken, softening Horde resistance to the Alliance, and diminishing the role of Queen Sylvanas.
Unwilling to compromise his principles, yet unable to free himself from duty to Sylvanas, the dead priest instructed a Brill guard to bury him in an unmarked solitary grave, for interment.
For long days, the undead priest lay in the crude pine box, six feet below the cemetery of Brill. As an Undead he did not sleep or even blink, but passed the time in meditation on the declining state of Horde affairs.
The black solitude did not help Maledictus' state of mind. Gradually he became aware of the movement of maggots in the soil around him. Centipedes and beetles crept in and out of the dark wooden coffin, and over time the priest grew attuned to the increasingly loud tap-tap-tapping of insect legs, the constant clicking of tiny mandibles. His decayed brain became convinced that the insects were messengers, sent by Sylvanas herself. She was checking on him, receiving daily reports from tiny agents, with loving concern for her most ardent follower.
The conviction gripped him in the inky blackness, and Maledictus' remaining upper lip curled into a macabre semblance of a smile as he imagined the expression of concern on Sylvanas' porcelain face, as she received the news from her insect spies. The dead priest entertained himself with the belief that Sylvanas was worried for his welfare. Over time, it grew increasingly apparent that the maggots and beetles were instructing him to return to the surface, to seek out Sylvanas. Their leg-tapping and mandible-clicking was a simple code, and they were confiding to Maledictus that -upon his return to her chambers- Sylvanas would greet him warmly, and receive him to her numbing embrace.
As the delusion seized him, the priest began to claw relentlessly at his wooden coffin. In his feverish haste, the pine removed all of his jagged fingernails, and he continued to strike at the coffin door with bony fingertips. Eventually the wood splintered, and the dead priest began to tunnel upward, through the packed grave dirt, until he finally emerged from the womb of the earth, covered in filth and decay, to bask again in the pale moonlight of Tirisfal Glade.
A few townsfolk took notice of the dirt-caked, shambling form as he made his way to the gates of Lordaeron. Maledictus paid no notice to the guards of Undercity, or even to his old friend Jeremiah Payson, the cockroach vendor, as he passed by.
The dead priest entered the royal chamber of Sylvanas, oblivious to his own ghastly appearance, lost in the fantasy of his Queen's relief at seeing him at her side, as her champion. With reverence, Maledictus slowly ascended the stone steps and stood once again before the Dark Lady Sylvanas Windrunner. He had savored the anticipation of her first words to him, and as he stood before her, he imagined she was stunned into silence.
For long minutes the pathetic, broken corpse stood before his majestic, beautiful queen. She remained silent and aloof, not bothering to look in his direction.
The dead priest cleared his throat of grave dirt and spoke his first words in over 3 weeks, "My Queen, I have heard your request for my return, and I obey as your faithful servant."
Time passed. As Maledictus stared longingly at his goddess, he imagined that she was trying to tell him something with a silent language. She did not trust her guards, or the emissary Varimathras, and did not wish for them to hear her instructions to Maledictus.
As she shifted her posture, the priest understood that she wanted him to interpret and enforce her will. Maledictus followed her gaze to the wall ahead of her, and noticed that she was focused on a certain stone. The shape of the stone resembled a building, perhaps a tavern. Was she telling him that his duty now was to weed out sin and corruption from the Horde?
Certainly Intemperance and Lust were indulged in such taverns. It made perfect sense to the demented priest. Sylvanas was instructing him to enforce her will among the Forsaken, while she remained occupied with lofty affairs of state.
Maledictus nodded silently, and his remaining upper lip curled into a knowing smile. His mission was clear; to rid the Horde of sin and corruption, unite the Forsaken under the iron will of Queen Sylvanas, and ultimately to destroy the source of such corruption, as it spread from the Alliance.
Yes, a Ministry to work along side the Royal Apothecary Society, to help spread their plague and affliction to the Alliance, to better weaken them and bring about their annihilation. A Ministry of Affliction shall bring final darkness to the hated Enemy.
http://www.guildportal.com/Guild.aspx?GuildID=64146&TabID=556778
A Dwarven ambassador was openly allowed sanctuary within the Orcish capitol of Orgrimmar, with the purpose of cooperation with the Alliance to fight the new enemy in Silithus. The nature-loving Tauren druids of Moonglade consorted openly with sinful Night Elves. Traveling pagan gypsies, calling themselves the Lunar Festival, lured Forsaken away from the teachings of Sylvanas with promises of idle trinkets.
To make matters worse, his daily petitions of the Forsaken Queen Sylvanas Windrunner for instructions on how to deal with sinners went unanswered. She remained as maddeningly aloof as ever.
With slavish devotion, the dead priest scrutinized her every movement for a sign of recognition. Sylvanas stared ahead, unresponsive to Maledictus' praise, only shifting her posture every so often, as if mocking his vigilance.
No longer able to bear these developments, the tormented mind of Maledictus sank deeper into paranoid dementia. He viewed recent events as a conspiracy by the living races bent on weakening the Forsaken, softening Horde resistance to the Alliance, and diminishing the role of Queen Sylvanas.
Unwilling to compromise his principles, yet unable to free himself from duty to Sylvanas, the dead priest instructed a Brill guard to bury him in an unmarked solitary grave, for interment.
For long days, the undead priest lay in the crude pine box, six feet below the cemetery of Brill. As an Undead he did not sleep or even blink, but passed the time in meditation on the declining state of Horde affairs.
The black solitude did not help Maledictus' state of mind. Gradually he became aware of the movement of maggots in the soil around him. Centipedes and beetles crept in and out of the dark wooden coffin, and over time the priest grew attuned to the increasingly loud tap-tap-tapping of insect legs, the constant clicking of tiny mandibles. His decayed brain became convinced that the insects were messengers, sent by Sylvanas herself. She was checking on him, receiving daily reports from tiny agents, with loving concern for her most ardent follower.
The conviction gripped him in the inky blackness, and Maledictus' remaining upper lip curled into a macabre semblance of a smile as he imagined the expression of concern on Sylvanas' porcelain face, as she received the news from her insect spies. The dead priest entertained himself with the belief that Sylvanas was worried for his welfare. Over time, it grew increasingly apparent that the maggots and beetles were instructing him to return to the surface, to seek out Sylvanas. Their leg-tapping and mandible-clicking was a simple code, and they were confiding to Maledictus that -upon his return to her chambers- Sylvanas would greet him warmly, and receive him to her numbing embrace.
As the delusion seized him, the priest began to claw relentlessly at his wooden coffin. In his feverish haste, the pine removed all of his jagged fingernails, and he continued to strike at the coffin door with bony fingertips. Eventually the wood splintered, and the dead priest began to tunnel upward, through the packed grave dirt, until he finally emerged from the womb of the earth, covered in filth and decay, to bask again in the pale moonlight of Tirisfal Glade.
A few townsfolk took notice of the dirt-caked, shambling form as he made his way to the gates of Lordaeron. Maledictus paid no notice to the guards of Undercity, or even to his old friend Jeremiah Payson, the cockroach vendor, as he passed by.
The dead priest entered the royal chamber of Sylvanas, oblivious to his own ghastly appearance, lost in the fantasy of his Queen's relief at seeing him at her side, as her champion. With reverence, Maledictus slowly ascended the stone steps and stood once again before the Dark Lady Sylvanas Windrunner. He had savored the anticipation of her first words to him, and as he stood before her, he imagined she was stunned into silence.
For long minutes the pathetic, broken corpse stood before his majestic, beautiful queen. She remained silent and aloof, not bothering to look in his direction.
The dead priest cleared his throat of grave dirt and spoke his first words in over 3 weeks, "My Queen, I have heard your request for my return, and I obey as your faithful servant."
Time passed. As Maledictus stared longingly at his goddess, he imagined that she was trying to tell him something with a silent language. She did not trust her guards, or the emissary Varimathras, and did not wish for them to hear her instructions to Maledictus.
As she shifted her posture, the priest understood that she wanted him to interpret and enforce her will. Maledictus followed her gaze to the wall ahead of her, and noticed that she was focused on a certain stone. The shape of the stone resembled a building, perhaps a tavern. Was she telling him that his duty now was to weed out sin and corruption from the Horde?
Certainly Intemperance and Lust were indulged in such taverns. It made perfect sense to the demented priest. Sylvanas was instructing him to enforce her will among the Forsaken, while she remained occupied with lofty affairs of state.
Maledictus nodded silently, and his remaining upper lip curled into a knowing smile. His mission was clear; to rid the Horde of sin and corruption, unite the Forsaken under the iron will of Queen Sylvanas, and ultimately to destroy the source of such corruption, as it spread from the Alliance.
Yes, a Ministry to work along side the Royal Apothecary Society, to help spread their plague and affliction to the Alliance, to better weaken them and bring about their annihilation. A Ministry of Affliction shall bring final darkness to the hated Enemy.
http://www.guildportal.com/Guild.aspx?GuildID=64146&TabID=556778