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OOC: This is an open role-play thread.

However, there are a select few users whose participation in this thread would be greatly appreciated as they are already involved with my main character.

Listed in no particular order they are:






-The Golden Wolf





-Vishkara (I don't know if this is your username here, but please participate if you can)

Let's get this party started.

[Kallthanatos IC]

[Listen and Read]

"Welcome Home" (Song with lyrics included)

Artist: Coheed and Cambria

It has been three months since he left Silvermoon City. A mere nintey-one days had passed. Yet within this small window of time he had learned and changed so much. The young Sin'dorei, clad in dark plate armor, sat silently upon his black steed. His pale blue glowing eyes, once a pure aqua color, were fixed upon the city he once called home. The uplifting sensation he used to feel when he gazed upon this place was all but forgotten now. Now the only feeling he experienced was one of disgust and scorn. His once fair-toned skin, now a pale white, no longer felt the knife of the blistering cold wind of winter as it blew through the trees around him. The only thing about his appearance that remained somewhat untouched since his departure was his long, flowing, wild jet black hair. However it was no longer tied back in the same messy foxtail style he had always used to wear. It blew into his seemingly empty eyes freely. With a deep breath he drew a black hood over his head that cast a shadow over his face, and kicked at the sides of his Deathcharger lightly to urge it forward toward the city. His breath was visible in the cold air, emanating from the darkness beneath his hood, as he neared the city.

He was once a skilled mage well-liked by the citizens of Silvermoon City as well as the rest of the Horde itself. However, in the end, his lust for power had caused him to push everyone he had held dear away. Whether this was a deliberate move to make his departure less painful, or merely him losing his sanity early on in his transformation is a question none can answer.

Giving in to his own personal grievances and desires tainted his nobility, and put him into the serious pit his life was currently dwelling in. The price for power was his very sanity and self-identity. The young Blood Elf bowed his head as his steed brought him ever closer to the one place he had been dreading to return to. Nevertheless, he had no where else to go now. He was betrayed by his master The Lich King, the very being three months ago he had sworn he would defeat with the powers of the Death Knights. There was no way within the Twisting Nether he could ever return to Arthas' service even if he wanted to. The rest of the Horde was still adjusting to the idea of enrolling the service of the now free Death Knights, so the other capital cities were practically off limits as of now. At least here in Silvermoon City he knew people, and they knew him. Unfortunately this time around it would not work in his favor.

His very first mission upon becoming a Death Knight and losing his free will was to join the forces moving on Silvermoon City during the Scourges new invasion. His fellow Death Knights were killed off rather quickly in the raid by some of Silvermoon City's elite, leaving him the only one left to command the mindless ghouls that ravaged the streets. Though his face was shrouded by the dark war helmet he had worn that day, in the midst of the fighting it was knocked off and a few guards, as well as several of Silvermoon's citizens had seen his face before he could hastily put his helmet back on. Shortly afterward he was forced to retreat. Despite how well-prepared Silvermoon City was for the impending attack, many elves were still left dead in his wake. After fleeing Silvermoon City, he would then go on to partake in the slaughter of The Scarlet Enclave where he would mercilessly kill hundreds more.

Someone in Silvermoon City was bound to recognize him as the monster that had attacked the city that day. The city that had worked so hard to rebuild itself from the Scourge's last attack could not possibly forgive him and he knew it. The ironic part is that he enjoyed every minute of every massacre he was ever a part of since he attained the powers of the Death Knights.

He recalled the anticipation he felt before each slaughter, knowing that no one who put up any resistance would stand a chance against him. The smell of blood upon his freezing cold rune blade would bring a sadistic grin to his face. Watching his foes fall before him, only to be raised shortly afterward to attack the ones they were fighting so hard to protect before they fell.

He had become the very monster he had pledged to destroy. What would returning to Silvermoon City mean for him now? Perhaps he will only delve deeper into his new persona, giving in to impulses and killing those who oppose him. Maybe he would only be headed to his death; killed by those he once trusted and loved. Would he even be given the opportunity to repent and achieve redemption? There is only one way to find out.

The Blood Elf once known as Kallikrates pulled his hood further down over his face as his Deathcharger trotted ominously through the gates of Silvermoon City.

"Welcome home, Kalli..." he muttered under breath.

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Arte glanced back over his shoulder. He sighed at the woman who took the lit cigarette from his lips. "Arrale..."

"You know what condition she's in, Sir!"

He sighs at her again, stuffing his hands in his pockets and shrugging his shoulders. He knew but didn't like to be reminded. After crushing his cigarette under boot, the red haired woman suddenly reached out and straightened his collar.

"At least you have cleaned yourself up this time for her, Sir."

"Arrale, please stop calling me Sir."

"As it pleases you, Master Artemus."

"...go back to Sir."

Arte simply shakes his head at the elf watch dog as he steps inside. Ever since Sakiyah had decided to take up residence in Silvermoon again it seemed as if all the servants of the house had gone mad. Though it may have had to do with the fact Arrale had dragged Sakiyah back from the Northrend expedition and was keeping watch over her like a prisoner. Though Arte had to admit, he felt much better knowing Sakiyah was safely in her apartment in Silvermoon.

Jhaagon, Sakiyah's felhunter, greets Arte with what sounds like a friendly growl from his pile of pillows. At least Sakiyah had always assured it was friendly. He still wasn't going to take any chances and decided to stay put just inside the doorway to the study. Just as he had assumed, there was Sakiyah at the huge desk that was once his father's, going over another stack of reports. If she knew he was there, she hadn't acknowledged him yet. Her long red hair was pulled back messily from her face, a small block of cheese between her teeth. Minutes go by before by chance she glances up and sees him and the cheese falls from her mouth onto the desk.


"Reports over the Scourge?"

"No actually. It's over some of our shipping -- oh shut up and give me a hug."

A mix of joy and pride sweeps through Arte as she stands and hurries around the desk to him. He can't help but notice the small bump her stomach has become through her silk robe. She throws her arms around his neck and buries her face in his shoulder.

"How are you doing? Considering..."

As she pulls back from him, he cups a hand in the air before her abdomen. She frowns at him, "Annoyed and tired. Now we can either go over your reports -- or lack of -- over the flora and fauna of Northrend. Or you can escort me on a walk about the city and away from my work."

"...shall we?" Arte grins as he bows lowly at the waist, his long hair sweeping the ground.

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Grimfury curses as he wipes the blood of the carrion bird off of his face. The last few days he had been trekking through the expanse known as Dragonblight. Grimfury had been working with the Apocathery society, helping to develop a new plague to lay waste to Arthas' host of abominations. Just recently they had sent him on a mission to procure some Emerald Dragon Tears. It was while harvesting these tears that Grimfury had sighted this large carrion bird perched above the resting Ysera. As it had attacked Grimfury had left it a smoking mess with his newfound power, but the blood of the foul beast had pervaded everything he wore.

As Grimfury sat there recouping the battle and sipping on some mead, he thought back to all of his old friends. He remembered the old battles, and the road that led him here. He thought back to that day as he had stood outside of the gates of the Old Silvermoon University as waves of the scourge poured through the city. Death Knights in thrall of the Lich King had lead the charge and Grimfury had slain many of them, including one of his own cousins.

As he was purging the scourge, Grimfury had clashed with a particularly fierce blood elf knight, and a stray blow had stricken his helmet from his head. A fleeting glimpse had shocked Grimfury, it had almost looked like his old friend Kallikrates, but that was not possible. Grimfury had shaken it off and the elf had moved on to somewhere else in the city, but occassionally Grimfury still wondered if it had been real. Was Kallikrates still alive somewhere, or had he became a Death Knight; if so had he managed to break the reins of the Lich King like so many of the others had?

Grimfury just shrugged and chewed on his sandwich while he sat and pondered his past. Sighing he stood up and headed off down the forest path, much work had yet to be done today. If Kallikrates was out there, he had better hope he was working on the right side of things again. Grimfury would hate to have to kill an old friend, but he would do so to protect the ones he loved.

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[Kallthanatos IC]

"Filth of Azeroth..."

"Dog of the Lich King!"


Kallthanatos kept his eyes glued toward the paved streets of Silvermoon City as the sound of the guards' and citizens' whispers reached his ears. He did not resent their statements. Rather he accepted what they called him. He knew what he was, and he was not ashamed of it. They may look down upon him, but that is because they do not understand true power. Yet, despite this mindset, he did not want them to see his face. Kallthanatos pulled his hood down a little lower to cast a darker shadow over his visage. He had known since he left that coming back here would mean a ton of tension and stress placed upon him, but he never expected this. The real thing was much worse than anything he had imagined.

Kallthanatos made his way around the city, keeping to himself all the while, just taking everything in again. After a bit he double backed and slowly rode back down the Walk of Elders toward Wayfarer's. He could really use a drink right about now. His quiet trot on his Deathcharger through Silvermoon was suddenly interrupted by a voice.

"Halt, Death Knight!" a guard on patrol had stepped out in front of his steed.

Kallthanatos rolled his eyes with a sigh as he slightly pulled back on the reins to come to a stop. He dismounted.

"What business do you have in Silvermoon?" the guard inquired.

Kallthanatos strode over to his interrogator, pointing to his Blood Elf ears poking through the sides of the hood over his head.

"Returning home..." His voice was deep, cold, and had an other-worldly tone to it; slightly reverberating through the air with every syllable.

The guard's posture tensed slightly, and he scoffed in disapproval.

"Traitors are not welcome. Leave at once," he commanded.

Kallthanatos jerked his head from side to side, cracking his neck. A sinister grin could be seen making its way across his lips beneath the dark shadow of his hood.

"No," he shot back slyly.

The angered guard brandished his double-edged warglaive and held his shield at the ready. He spoke through his teeth.

"I'll say it once more. Leave or-"

"Or what?" Kallthanatos interrupted with a mocking chuckle.

The guard's brow twitched before he charged forward with a cry.

"GRAAAAAH!" he thrust his blade at the young Death Knight.

Kallthanatos swiftly side-stepped to avoid the blow. Expecting a counterattack, the guard quickly hid behind his shield. Kallthanatos then stepped forward, placing a finger on the shield. Ice emanated from his outstretched appendage and rapidly began to spread over the guard's shield with a loud crackling sound. Once the shield was completely covered in frost the Blood Elf Death Knight gave it a good flick with his finger and watched it shatter to the ground in pieces with satisfaction.

"Woops," Kallthanatos shrugged, a smug expression on his face.

Enraged the Silvermoon guard took a swipe at the Death Knight. Kallthanatos caught his wrist mid-swing, stifling the blow. With a swift kick to the guard's midsection he wrenched the weapon away and tossed it aside. The guard staggered backward and fell to the ground. Just as the guard had begun to pick himself up Kallthanatos had drawn his blades and crisscrossed them, holding them to his fallen foe's throat like a large pair of scissors.

"You didn't answer my question. Leave..." his eyes flickered in sadistic pleasure, "...or what?"

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Reticence. That was all she desired right now. It wasn't working. Apparently another 'betrayer' was entering the city. She could hear the faint sound of vocal loathing towards the person who tried to enter. Most of the other Death Knights were denied, some left; too prideful to bare the idea of ridicule. Others stayed, and took it. To Lili, it was sort of a past-time to see just how long a Death Knight would take garbage to the face before bursting out into a fit of violence. Much to her shock, some of them took every hit with stride. She had to wonder if they were just as prideful, or perhaps egotistical to endure the barrage of rotten fruit and spit.

She calmly pushed herself up from the table that she rested at, closing the tome. Since the disappearance of most people she cared for, Lililathia had pretty much put all of her training on hold, focusing on knowledge. She had studied much, yet learned so little. With the book laying idly against the cluttered table of the inn, she stretched. Shimmering fel optics glanced around as various inhabitants conversed and muttered amoungst themselves. Slender fingers slipped into the short white locks that framed her face. The city was changing, and so was she. She was no longer the head strong self assured huntress. Now she was more reclusive. She spoke to few people. With a heavy sigh she exited the inn to see the commotion.

It appeared that the events outside were becoming heated as a Guard lunged at the Death Knight. She stepped closer. Muscles tensing up. There was something familiar about that Knight, damned familiar. Another step closer. Still couldn't put her finger on it. Closer still. Eyes widened as she knew who it was. Kallikrates, only it wasn't really him anymore. Her heart punched her ribcage, as she sucked in a pained breath, a few words slipping from her light mauve lips.

" Aw hell."

She watched as the guard bit the dust. She wasn't strong enough to do anything but just watch in both dismay and awe. He had changed so much...too much. With a singular fleeting glance towards the man that she could have once loved, she arched up a shoulder. A shrug to remind herself she shouldn't care anymore. He was her past, and that was just that...the past. As long as he hadn't seen her, or recognized was all peaches and cream. She was about to walk away...but then the deviance in her stopped her from leaving. She had to make her opinion of him known. It wasn't what he was that bothered was what he did before he vanished.

Fists formed, knuckles going ivory from the tension of her skin over her bones. Her jaw set hard, locking in place as she marched over to him. Seeing him stand over that body, it didn't frighten her. Oh no. Now after months of numbness...she felt something. Anger. She was going to let him know that as well. She stalked over. Her typical limp was forgotten in the moment of heated animosity. Her jungle cat moments returning with a vengence as she dared to touch the shoulder of the male.

" Kalli..."

A dark husk of a whisper emited from her lips, conveying that seething emotion.

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Zorael lounged quietly in the inn. His sword, an incorporeal blade, lay unsheathed next to him. It crackled slightly more than normal, as the taint of the Sin'dorei reacted to the magicks of the blade. Garbed in his customary Shadow-woven robes, face covered by a mask with slits to show his eyes of black fire, he twitched as he heard the commotion outside begin.

He set his journal aside, closing the Shadow-infused pages, and picking his blade up. Hesnia, his succubi, dropped out of the invisible plane long enough to offer him a quick smile, urging him onward.

Zorael took a step outside the inn, and blinked slightly. As he saw the half-crazed Death Knight smiling down upon the guard, he merely shrugged. Hesnia gave a disappointed scoff, and advanced upon the guard. Zorael followed, sighing softly.

He eyed the guard, and then the Death Knight.

"You'd do well to remove your blades from his throat. As of yet, I don't believe the guards are under too strict of orders to not swarm you and take you apart. As good as you may can't fight the entire force of the Silvermoon Guards...amateurs, but still beyond you in such great numbers."

As he spoke, Hesnia eyed the guard hungrily. Rupuri, the little imp, appeared with a tiny flicker of Shadow. He tugged on Hesnia's tail, and shook his head violently. She nearly kicked him, but realized he was right, and sighed. Scooping him up, she vanished.

Zorael left his blade unsheathed, barely noticing the little elf-girl beside him. It crackled even more in the presence of this creature of Undeath. The Book of the Dead seemed to glow brighter, and tendrils of Shadow reached out to Kallthanatos, as if testing the necromantic binds on his soul.

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"Oh how lovely...first thing I see when I walk into what was once my home? A fight between a guard and one of my brethren. I wonder if the guard was drunk...that was pathetic."

Menalai kept her hands free of any weapons, yet her ice-caked axe lay in play view across her back. Garbed in dark armor which constrasted horribly with her unearthly pale skin, she almost approached the two, until she saw Zorael stepping outside of the inn. With a swift, silent curse, she hurried to the nearby vendor's cart, and ducked behind it. Her blue eyes flashed with menace to silence the questioning look she got. The vendor thought better of his actions, and merely pretended as if nothing had happened; granted, he appeared a little hot under the collar now.

"The hell is he doing here...I thought he was supposed to be in Death or something...." Menalai glared at him, and wondered if the little tart standing next to him was his beloved. She silenced the thought, she wasn't pregnant..or if she was, she wasn't as far along as his mate would be.

She stayed behind the cart, silent as a whisper, despite the plate she wore. Waiting...watching. She flicked her equally pale hair out of her face, and the vendor began to relax as he realized she was not trying to kill him.

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"I am sorry m'lady, but I can not allow you to leave your quarters." Arrale stands before the door that leads to Murder Row, arms crossed. Sakiyah frowns deeply, pulling her arm from Arte to put both hands on her hips.

"What is the meaning of this, Arrale?"

"You do not understand, Lady Sakiyah. One of those damned traitors of the Lich King has threatened a guard near Wayfarer's. More guards are on the way, but even so I cannot take a chance. I am sorry, m'lady." A strange mix of fear and hope crosses Sakiyah's face but before she can speak, Arrale continues. "It is a man, or at one time was. It is not your sister, m'lady."

With a nod Sakiyah turns to give Arte a weak smile. "I will go back to work then. Come back for dinner, Arte? I do miss the company."

"Of course, dear cousin." The hunter leans over Sakiyah to give a short kiss to her cheek and encouraging smile. Once she has shut herself back inside the study, Arte turns to the once-paladin. "Arrale..."

"Do not worry, Sir. All my training has not been forgotten. Though I do doubt we will have anything to fear of this."

"Sakiyah may keep the company of and have dealings with Sylvanas's Forsaken. But the likes of Severina and Xenaken are vastly different than these undead from Ebon Hold."

"You also do not approve of the lady's advocating of their return to the Horde?" she asks as she steps away from the door.

"There are many things the lady does I do not approve of. If you will excuse me, Arrale."

Before she can protest, Arte slips out the door. None spare him a second glance as he leaves the Sanctum's quarters and steps into the street of Murder Row. Cupping his hands, he protects the flame as he lights a fresh cigarette. For once, he hopes Carmensita is not at Wayfarer's. He stands and enjoys his cigarette, listening as people pass in the street, already whispering about the commotion. At the very least, he reasons to himself, he can have a drink. There is nothing wrong with wanting to watch the guards deal with upstarts, he tells himself. With hands stuffed in his pockets, Arte heads down the road toward his favorite tavern.

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"Kalli..." a familiar voice whispered.

"You'd do well to remove your blades from his throat. As of yet, I don't believe the guards are under too strict of orders to not swarm you and take you apart. As good as you may can't fight the entire force of the Silvermoon Guards...amateurs, but still beyond you in such great numbers," said another, this one unfamiliar.

"Like hell they can take me..." Kallthanatos muttered at the Undead's comment.

Kallthanatos picked up his gaze to look at the two standing near him. His pale blue eyes glowed eerily beneath the shadow cast by his hood. He exhaled deeply at the sight of the woman, the vapors from his breath expelling out into the air.

"You...!!!" his deep, echoing voice shaking with a combination of shock and anger.

His right ear perked a little at the sound of a few guards rushing toward his position. He turned his gaze to the Undead.

"Don't think I'm leaving because I don't think I can handle them," he returned his gaze to Lililathia, "You! The eastern shore outside Silvermoon! One hour!"

Kallthanatos spun back around toward the guard who had harassed him. First pulling his arm way back he then brought a cold fist down across the guard's skull, knocking him unconscious so that the others would stop to attend to this guard rather than pursue him. He leapt onto his Deathcharger and galloped away toward Murder Row.

Little did he know his escape route would only bring him more trouble.

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Zorael's face twists in a silent snarl behind his mask as he tries to rid the rancid taste of arrogance from his mouth.

The fool...I hope he incurs the wrath of Lor'themar...skimpy as it may be, he'll soon become an enemy of the me a chance to silence such impudence.

Hesnia reappeared behind him, and placed a gentle hand on his wrist. She winked at him and giggled softly. He glares at her for a moment, then relents. He sheathes his blade, and begins to stalk off after the Death Knight. Almost as if forgetting Lililathia was there, he turned around to face her.

"My apologies, madame. I believe your friend will have to be silenced. Either by the guards...or by me. Disrupting people who need concentration is not a wise thing to do. Chances are they'll most likely kill him, mind you."

He laughs softly, "As for what I will do to him...well either way, I get my turn. I won't kill him though, I promise that much."

"I give you this fair warning. Constrain him before he is lost to you...again."

Hesnia made a strange sound, as if not believing Zorael would have said that to a complete stranger.

There was no need for that, you know.

I thought we agreed you would stay out of my head?

We'll need to talk later about what's gotten you panicky and anxious.

I'm not anxious...or panicky...

You just threatened someone you don't even harm someone they know! You know what...I'm not going there with you...I can already see what your problems is.

Stay out of know what happened last time you meddled in my personal affairs...

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Barking orders? That was not the Kalli she remembered. While it looked like him, it wasn't. This was not the man who left behind but a note before vanishing off the face of the earth. She couldn't even begin to calculate how many nights she had wandered around various regions of the continents trying to find him. How many times she almost got killed. Part of her had missed him, while the other half wanted to murder him. He had not lied to her, but he definately hadn't told her the truth about many aspects of himself.

She stared at him as he vanished. To go or not? She very well could stay back in the tavern and do little but read more tomes. She was half tempted to ignore him, but something in the back of her mind screamed that she simply had to go and see what he had done to himself. She was about to turn and walk away when the undead male spoke up. This man seemed familiar. Perhaps it was just her mind playing tricks on her. She could hardly be blamed if it was. The past just came back to viciously slap her in the face.

" He was never mine to lose in the first place. Do as you will."

Her remark was on the callous side. There was a sting to her words. Embittered, but to herself more than the male next to her. With narrowed eyes she looked to the succubus that stood next to the male, who obviously was a warlock. Ew. She didn't like warlocks. With little else to say she turned to move back in the direction of the inn, still debating with herself if she should actually go or not.

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