-Lauso-
06-16-2006, 05:38 AM
[ Hey hey, I'm gonna open up Lauso's account with the beginning of his story here. Feel free to meet the Forsaken priest along his travels, adding on anything you want after this here. Just know the following:
Lauso thinks that most of the Horde are still out to kill him, still hanging onto his human roots, and subconsciously remembering his past.
He's got a terrible stutter, as he has almost no confidence in himself, as it drains with each failure of saving a comrade on the field of battle.
He dislikes his use of Shadow spells in battle, yet can't find himself turning away from them, finding them more attuned to his being, needing more effort for the holy spells that he can use.
He dislikes to fight, but won't back down from a challenge. A deep primal urge within wants to prove to those around him that even a small boy like him can be one of the most powerful beings around, and a twisted voice deep inside wants to embrace the Shadow inside, no matter how much his conscious mind is replused by it.
Heh, now.. this is an alt of an Alliance chara you all know and love. :P This nice job has given me enough to throw on a 2nd account, since I've been wanting to play a little bit of horde, but don't wanna leave Twisting Nether, I love you all that much. ^.^ Lauso is currently lvl 10, and residing in Brill. When I post the next part of his travels, he'll be in Sepulcher, probably lvl 15 or so.
Enjoy, and have fun playing along. ;) ]
I’m Forsaken in name only, not in spirit.
“J-j-just because I find the Sh-Shadow easiest to m-manipulate, it doesn’t m-mean I em-em-embrace it!” That would always be my argument when people questioned my reasoning. I would preach the power of the Light, rare for a Forsaken they say. I don’t call myself Forsaken; I’m simply Lauso, a neophyte, barely aware of my powers. I would shudder to my very core as the wispy black tendrils of concentrated Shadow flew from my outstretched hand, flying through the air towards my target. I’d watch as they would sink through the skin of my target’s forehead, attacking the being’s mind with a blast of energy, causing most to scream out in the most distressing agony before turning on me with a renewed rage. Then my hands again would flash with darkness at the mutter of a single word, and a constricting veil of Shadow would encompass them, causing them to wince in pain every few seconds as it tightened around their body, attacking the nerves, shutting off the pathways to the muscles or organs, watching them collapse at my feet as the simple shield around my body was not once penetrated by their meager blows. It was as if my offensive abilities were a second nature to me. Almost effortlessly they rolled off my fingertips, striking my foe with unbridled fury.
My healing abilities were effective too, but they always seemed to take more concentration, a focused channeling of my power of which drained me considerably. More than once my Light given powers were just a second too late, granting me nothing but trouble by the poor soul who fell because of my incompetence. “There’s more to being a priest than embracing the Shadow!” they would yell, to which I would rebuff with my normal argument, stuttering as I always do. I couldn’t help it. I was still human at heart. I was unused to these orcs and tauren and trolls so close to me, fearing that they would strike me down with one swing of their arms, which were as big as my head. The way some of these people think of the Forsaken, it’s very possible even now! But I’m NOT Forsaken! I’m not! I can’t deal with the constant death, yet I see it everywhere. Humans from the Scarlet Crusade bearing down upon me, sword raised high, looking for my head as a trophy. Dwarves venturing through the Glades taking aim upon my withered body, just for sport. Night Elves and Gnomes, striking me with daggers from behind, springing from the shadows and yelling in their native tongue their victory cry as my body crumpled to the ground. Maybe the apprehension hindered my support spells, not wanting to help that which I despised, or maybe my twisted soul just couldn’t cope with the holy energy as easy as I might have once when I was alive.
Not that I can remember my past anyway. I was found on a farm in northern Silverpine. A young Forsaken man, though older than I was when I died, calling himself a Deathstalker, found me. He shoved me off the bed when I stirred, calling me a “worthless louse,” which is where I thought of my name, Lauso. Of my mortal life I remember nothing, save that I was still a boy when I died, just on the verge of manhood. Many of the more experienced Forsaken say I was sixteen or so, maybe slightly younger. Yet here I am, wielding such power, where I doubt I did during my life on Azeroth. However I died though, it wasn’t pretty. My face is scarred from my violent end. Claw marks raked upon my face, a bullet hole from a dwarven rifle resting just under my temple, though the exact cause of death… well, it doesn’t matter anymore. Here I am, and here I will be staying, praising the Light, wielding the Shadow, becoming more of the living controversy that the Forsaken already are.
I’m not Forsaken though! ... I’m just lost.
Lauso thinks that most of the Horde are still out to kill him, still hanging onto his human roots, and subconsciously remembering his past.
He's got a terrible stutter, as he has almost no confidence in himself, as it drains with each failure of saving a comrade on the field of battle.
He dislikes his use of Shadow spells in battle, yet can't find himself turning away from them, finding them more attuned to his being, needing more effort for the holy spells that he can use.
He dislikes to fight, but won't back down from a challenge. A deep primal urge within wants to prove to those around him that even a small boy like him can be one of the most powerful beings around, and a twisted voice deep inside wants to embrace the Shadow inside, no matter how much his conscious mind is replused by it.
Heh, now.. this is an alt of an Alliance chara you all know and love. :P This nice job has given me enough to throw on a 2nd account, since I've been wanting to play a little bit of horde, but don't wanna leave Twisting Nether, I love you all that much. ^.^ Lauso is currently lvl 10, and residing in Brill. When I post the next part of his travels, he'll be in Sepulcher, probably lvl 15 or so.
Enjoy, and have fun playing along. ;) ]
I’m Forsaken in name only, not in spirit.
“J-j-just because I find the Sh-Shadow easiest to m-manipulate, it doesn’t m-mean I em-em-embrace it!” That would always be my argument when people questioned my reasoning. I would preach the power of the Light, rare for a Forsaken they say. I don’t call myself Forsaken; I’m simply Lauso, a neophyte, barely aware of my powers. I would shudder to my very core as the wispy black tendrils of concentrated Shadow flew from my outstretched hand, flying through the air towards my target. I’d watch as they would sink through the skin of my target’s forehead, attacking the being’s mind with a blast of energy, causing most to scream out in the most distressing agony before turning on me with a renewed rage. Then my hands again would flash with darkness at the mutter of a single word, and a constricting veil of Shadow would encompass them, causing them to wince in pain every few seconds as it tightened around their body, attacking the nerves, shutting off the pathways to the muscles or organs, watching them collapse at my feet as the simple shield around my body was not once penetrated by their meager blows. It was as if my offensive abilities were a second nature to me. Almost effortlessly they rolled off my fingertips, striking my foe with unbridled fury.
My healing abilities were effective too, but they always seemed to take more concentration, a focused channeling of my power of which drained me considerably. More than once my Light given powers were just a second too late, granting me nothing but trouble by the poor soul who fell because of my incompetence. “There’s more to being a priest than embracing the Shadow!” they would yell, to which I would rebuff with my normal argument, stuttering as I always do. I couldn’t help it. I was still human at heart. I was unused to these orcs and tauren and trolls so close to me, fearing that they would strike me down with one swing of their arms, which were as big as my head. The way some of these people think of the Forsaken, it’s very possible even now! But I’m NOT Forsaken! I’m not! I can’t deal with the constant death, yet I see it everywhere. Humans from the Scarlet Crusade bearing down upon me, sword raised high, looking for my head as a trophy. Dwarves venturing through the Glades taking aim upon my withered body, just for sport. Night Elves and Gnomes, striking me with daggers from behind, springing from the shadows and yelling in their native tongue their victory cry as my body crumpled to the ground. Maybe the apprehension hindered my support spells, not wanting to help that which I despised, or maybe my twisted soul just couldn’t cope with the holy energy as easy as I might have once when I was alive.
Not that I can remember my past anyway. I was found on a farm in northern Silverpine. A young Forsaken man, though older than I was when I died, calling himself a Deathstalker, found me. He shoved me off the bed when I stirred, calling me a “worthless louse,” which is where I thought of my name, Lauso. Of my mortal life I remember nothing, save that I was still a boy when I died, just on the verge of manhood. Many of the more experienced Forsaken say I was sixteen or so, maybe slightly younger. Yet here I am, wielding such power, where I doubt I did during my life on Azeroth. However I died though, it wasn’t pretty. My face is scarred from my violent end. Claw marks raked upon my face, a bullet hole from a dwarven rifle resting just under my temple, though the exact cause of death… well, it doesn’t matter anymore. Here I am, and here I will be staying, praising the Light, wielding the Shadow, becoming more of the living controversy that the Forsaken already are.
I’m not Forsaken though! ... I’m just lost.