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About Caluvus

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    Junior Member
  • Birthday 07/22/1987
  1. <p>Just read <span style="text-decoration:underline;">The frost of a Man's Soul</span>. Good stuff, keep writing.</p>

  2. Very well done, I took a photo shop class last semester ( I need to buy it) and this is good stuff. Don't go back to it to many times though. The hardest part is knowing when to stop, for me at least I feel I could always do better or that a part could be changed; but that can lead to butchering the piece you're working on instead of enhancing it. It looks great!
  3. Entry 002 The 27th Year 29 days Before Winter's Approach Commentary on the Three Paths Three Virtues are the foundations for the Cult of the Forgotten Shadow and the Church of the Holy Light. Three dark and three light, yet in the eyes of Caluvus, my creator, both were at serious fault. He spoke of them only briefly but his disgust was made clear. Both share the first two virtues, though their interpretation varies, Respect and Tenacity. For the Forsaken of this young Cult of Shadows respect is the recognition that the universe is a manifestation of the accumulated wills of all existing entities. The aim of this awareness is to empower the self to greater power, yet not make a fault in challenging someone who may well slay you. It is a respect tempered with fear and fueled by ambition. Tenacity goes hand in hand with the Respect. In perseverance young adherents are taught they shall meet their goals and overcome their foes. The third virtue of Shadow, unique to that faith, is Power. Power is the aim of the previous goals and it is said a Forsaken who desires nothing has no reason to exist. These are the supposed building block of the Forgotten Shadow. On the other hand is seen the Order of the Holy Light. The faith has expanded beyond the bounds of race to be served by Dwarf, Draenei, Humans, and now even the people I once called my own: the Blood Elves. The Holy Light too teaches Respect, yet its aim is the benefit of others and not the self. Its origin in the idea that in causing harm to one you cause harm to yourself, for all things in this universe are seen as connected. In tenacity the weak acolytes of the faith are weeded out from the strong. In this virtue the change for good in an alliance of people, or city or country, is sought instead of changing the individual to attain greater power. Lastly is taught the virtue of Compassion. It is a virtue hoped by the masters of the faith to be tempered by the previous tenants so as not to lead to zealotry. In zealotry more harm could be done than good, for one could aid when aid is not required or pass by a person in true need unknowingly. These are the two grand paths laid before the people of the world of Azeroth, yet there is another that evades all mention of virtue. The path of the Fel, the last my maker mentioned, is most often pursued by those ravenous for power. There is only one creed to a Follower of the Fel, as told to me by the demonologist Alaemon Talahstrider, "Do what thou will, for the ends justify the means and the righteous path is the one of your own making." In other words, the path you choose in order to attain demonic ascendance is justified so long as the goal is reached. The only sin for a Fel Sworn is when an action or plan fails to serve their attainment of power. Yet more often than not this shortcut to mastery of evocation and invocation leads to madness and the consumption of not only the individual's soul but also his will. Forgotten Shadows shall fade, the Holy Light will betray, and the Fel shall consume, but my master is forever. Such were Caluvus's words and I now realize they hold truth. For the Holy Light has betrayed the un-living and turned packs of humans into mindless zealots no better than the hordes of the Burning Legion. Its virtues abused and defiled time after time and Shadow's suffer the same fate. Bound in a doctrine of isolation and self-preservation the Cult of Forgotten Shadow is its own worst enemy. In time this selfishness will give rise to a rot in the heart of the Forsaken, a rot which will tear our alliances apart and sunder all that we have built. If we follow that path we too shall become forgotten. Light betrays, shadows fade, and Fel does indeed consume. All are at fault for the same reason: these faiths hold onto the pettiness of illusions. ~Talah Dela'na~
  4. Entry 001 The 27th Year 31 days Before Winter's Approach For near two years now I have wandered the wild lands of Kalimdor and the plagued and burning countries of Azeroth. Yet in this time I have also wandered the recess of my own mind, for I have yet to forget the words of the priest who brought me this un-life. "Be careful what you ask for," he had chided me before he gave his gift. He told me I may lose hold of precious memories and indeed I have. I cannot remember how to speak my once native language or recall anything of my family. His name was Caluvus and he called himself a Seer of Silence and an Apostle of the Great Dark. He said, "Forgotten Shadows shall fade, the Holy Light will betray, and the fel shall consume, but my master is forever. The Silent Lord awaits you. Absolution is given unto you." These words have haunted me ever since. Only now, after much deliberation, have I decided to put to paper my thoughts as they have occurred and as they will unfold. ~Telah Dela'na~
  5. <p>Thanks for the greeting.</p>

  6. Got a picture of a pet? I'll sketch it (and color if you want) something I want to do, but since I don't own all the pets I can't get good screen shots of them.
  7. lol its a sketch, the wings I simply left unfinished x]:rolleyes: ((EDIT)) Added a color version.
  8. Tiny Emerald Whelpling. *pokes its tummy* Must be baby fat.
  9. Full Name: Viridiel Darkseeker Nicknames: He has been called Viri on more than a few occasions and welcomes being addressed as Darkseeker. Date of Birth: N/A Age: Viridiel has been among the ranks of the forsaken for nearly two years now. Race: Forsaken (Formerly Blood Elf) Gender: Male Hair: Turquoise Skin: A pale blue with a touch of pallid green. Eyes:Golden pinpoints of unholy energy. Height: 5' 8'' Weight: 118lbs Place of residence: Viridiel spends many hours wandering the graveyard of Brill where he died and was born. When not reflecting upon the meaning of the gift of faith given to him he spends his time in Undercity debating the faults of The Forgotten Shadow and admitting to its few valid points. Place of Birth: Reborn as a Forsaken in Brill while the birthplace of his life, like so much else, is forgotten to him. Known Relatives: None. Religion/Philosophy: Like he who turned him Viridiel serves and obscure entity known only as The Silent Lord. Even Viridiel himself knows little of this god or if this lord is even a god. What he does know was passed to him in the moments of his slow death, whispered into his ear by the dead tongue of a priest named Caluvus. Like followers of The Forgotten Shadow he too believes in the striving to overcome physical restrictions to attain what some might call god hood, yet he yields even this power to The Silent Lord whom he serves. In this phase his role will become one as a teacher, a reaper, and a watcher. In spreading the truth of his master, he spreads his name and in doing such spreads his own authority. To serve is to be served, to watch is to be beckoned, and to stay silent is to speak. Contradictory speech is also a key part to Viridiel's faith. Such sentences are riddles and are not crafted to preach wisdom directly, but to challenge an individual to reconcile the inherent contradiction of a phrase and gain wisdom through that struggle. Occupation: A priest of a young and unheard of faith, but in addition he retained his skills as a tailor from his former flesh bound life. Group/Guild affiliation: Viridiel seeks a guild where his dark ideology would be welcomed or at least tolerated. Enemies: The Scarlet Crusade and (to a lesser extent) followers of The Holy Light. Likes: Studying creatures as they die and decay, smiting zealots of the Holy Light, and studying his Emerald Whelping. Favorite Foods: Viridiel still eats out of habit more than anything, yet in this habit he finds a measure of relaxation and perhaps even illusion to a true life. He seems to favor fungi such as mushrooms above all else. Favorite Drinks: All beverages taste the same to the now dead Blood Elf, yet he welcomes liquid to clear his insides of dust and rot. Favorite Colors: The colors of the robes of the man who gave him new life, Caluvus, were black with a deep purple trim. He has taken these colors as his own and as the colors for his faith. Weapons of Choice: The staff is his weapon of choice, for it imposes a sense of authority that his stature may not. Dislikes: People to blind to see their own faults, fools obsessed with the materiel, and individuals who follow The Holy Light for it has betrayed all Forsaken. Hobbies: Viridiel is a tailor by profession favoring garments that can be fashioned with the colors of his faith. He has a tiny green dragon companion, yet it is unclear why a man who renounces materiel objects, including life, as fleeting would hold onto let alone seek out and capture such a creature. Physical Features: A hunched forsaken clad in robes with a staff in hand. His unholy golden eyes stare emptily at his surroundings. Azure skin with pallid green highlights throughout and a leather patch sowed to his face with a slit cut through it, either to hide decay or support his jaw, accents his undeath. Special Abilities: None (At least none that he has discovered.) Positive Personality Traits: Retaining a measure of his friendly demeanor from life Viridiel is not impossible to talk to. More often than not he has a dry, and dark, sense of humor that he implements in the most horrifying or depressing of situations. Negative Personality Traits: His undeath has given him a detached perspective on reality. That said his only motivation to heal others is so that they can continue to suffer and through that suffering transcend their flesh through death. To most this may be viewed as sadistic, to Viridiel however it is generosity. Misc. Quirks: Viridiel has a tendency to speak out loud to himself his own thoughts seemingly without realizing he is doing such. After two years he has mastered a measure of awareness of this, yet it is clear that his undeath knocked a few screws loose. History: The story of his birth can be found in the Nether Legends section entitled "The Hand of Generosity". He took the surname Darkseeker after losing memory of his living family name to indicate the path he has chosen, or perhaps that chose him.
  10. ((Nice shadows, clean, and all together well done. Keep drawing! ))
  11. The Hand of Genrosity "Do you remember how it happened?" Caluvus had been expecting the question at some point since his re-awakening. Looking up to the elf on the other side of the table Caluvus replied, "Yes." The blood elf looked up from his drink, emerald eyes gazing into Caluvus's empty sockets. "You remember how you died?" the elf inquired as he rested his beer stein upon the worn wood of the table between them. Caluvus nodded in reply before the elf spoke once more. "Tell me of it," and with that said the elf leaned in close to listen. Caluvus smiled, leaning in as well. The flesh of his chin and lower lip had dried, becoming a taught pale ashen binding for his lower jaw. Muscle had since withered to nothing to reveal his elbows and ribs beneath a tattered robe. However, the blood elf did not give pause for even a second at the decayed man before him. Caluvus had met Viridiel, a tailor and wanderer, that eve in the tavern. Viridiel was, surprisingly, friendly despite both the hardships his people suffered and the decayed appearance of the forsaken priest. Caluvus could think of no one better to tell his tale to. "I shall tell you of death." The old undead leaned back in his chair, folded his arms across his chest, and began his tale."A decade past I was an elf much like you," said Caluvus. Viridiel quirked an elegant brow in reply, "You were an elf?" and to this Caluvus nodded. "I was many things that I am no longer, but this tale is not that of my first life... only that of my deaths." The long haired magic user downed a good portion of his stein's contents, wiped froth from his mouth, and set it down before Caluvus continued the story. "I saw that my people were consumed by the arcane energies of the Sunwell long before their own awareness of it. Such realizations however were useless, for those closest to me would not heed my words. They would not heed my warnings of its destructive potential. Our arcane addiction had become our religion, and our spirituality was one of power seeking." The elf smirked, "The old days were not so bad, forsaken one. We paid our dues to the Sunstrider household, offered praise to Dath'remar, and built a glorious city." Caluvus ran a hand over his bald scalp then looked the elf in the eyes, "All founded with the aid of the arcane, or in the name thereof." Viridiel must have found the dead man's point valid for he was silent once more. "I cast aside my wealth in rebellion of my people's decadence, wove a linen cowl to hide my ears, and shaved my head in humility before making way into the southern lands. I made way into human lands." Caluvus gave a dry cough, a slight bit of dust drifting out from his mouth. Viridiel pushed the half empty stein toward the undead who nodded gratefully before downing the last of the drink. Caluvus could feel its coolness wash through his withered internal organs. The drink filled his insides briefly with the illusion of life. His interior cleansed of the dust of undeath, at least for now, and his dry tongue wet once more Caluvus continued. "The memories of that venture are fleeting, but I remember where I stopped one day. It was a small farming village by the name of Hugel." Emerald eyes narrowed at Caluvus, "Never heard of it," and in reply Caluvus shook his head. "It was a village between lands, at the edge of borders, in the grip of surrounding hills, and their only connection to the rest of the world the grain that they produced. Hugel was burned in holy fire, trampled by the Scourge, and its ashes blown away by the winds." Caluvus gave a dry swallow, "When I arrived the town was cast in darkness. The people there were dying horrible deaths, flies began to swarm about their mills, and corpses went missing from the local graveyard." Caluvus sighed, running a finger along the edge of the empty stein, "I did what I could to ease the people's sufferings and upon the discovery that I was a high elf they thought that through magic I could aid them, yet I had renounced the arcane." "Could you not heal them?" Viridiel asked and Caluvus frowned in reply before speaking. "I was little more than a monk of my own making in those days, but I did what I could and the townspeople welcomed whatever help could be had. I was the only physician and the only spiritual advisor. Ironic considering that at the time my faith was cast in a haze of confusion and my medical knowledge was so menial." Caluvus smiled ever so briefly before his taut azure skin fell into a grimace. "A rider was sent to Lordaeron, yet he was never heard from again. Not long after the corpses that had gone missing reappeared and to the horror of the villagers their loved ones now walked the lands hungering for the flesh of their former family. The last of the townsfolk gathered in an old barn at the edge of town. It was our last refuge and there I was offered by an elder a bowl of grain. It was a crude gruel. You see, when I had arrived it was decided the townspeople could only pay me in food for my help. That night I died." The young blood elf leaned back in his chair, "The Scourge got you then?" Caluvus looked at him, "In a manner of speaking. When I awoke my will was not my own and around me I saw the blaze of purification set by the soldiers of Lordaeron. They had gotten our message, but too late. I remember killing them, taking command, and ordering others to slaughter the humans. Humans, the very species I had tried to save but days before. That is how I died, but I did not truly live till I died once more. I was leading a vanguard of skeletal soldiers into the town of Brill, this town, when I was killed again. My body was thrown in with the countless others in Deathknell. In the cold of the earth I rotted for near four years, my ears gnawed off by hungry dead, my bones working their way through flesh as it withdrew, a satchel of the grain that had turned me bound to my belt, and then came my second undeath. It was an unlife with free will." Viridiel smirked, "So you died from eating contaminated grain?" Caluvus tilted his head, watching Viridiel as he laughed. "Apologies, but it seems rather obvious that if the mills had flies buzzing about it then it was not safe to eat." The forsaken's hollow eyes narrowed, "It was the Silent Lord's will." The laughter stopped, "The Silent Lord?" The blood elf inquired. "Would you like to hear about the one I revere, would you hear the word of no word?" Viridiel's interest was obviously piqued, "Then follow me, young fleshling." Life followed death out the tilted doorframe of the tavern and across the weed infested cobblestone road towards the graveyard. Headstones lined the whole of the once holy ground in curved rows taking up an area at least equal to the town of Brill itself. The fence surrounding it was bent and ruined. Its metal frame was crushed beneath the heels of abominations and ghouls that had marched across this land in years past. Caluvus nodded to the mushroom farmer as they passed one another. His supply of goods was never short, for the decay of these lands gave rise to all manner of fungus; furthermore persistent twilight nurtured their growth. The two men came to a stop before a large crypt. Caluvus kept his back to Viridiel as he listened to the fleshling's words."Why have we come out here? Words hold the same meaning indoors as out." Caluvus's reply was spoken with the harsh strained tone he had acquired in undeath, yet the emphasis on each word added a weirdness to his speech previously not displayed. "I know what you seek, Viridiel, for I see the confusion and hunger in your eyes." The priest turned his head slightly, revealing glowing golden pinpoints afloat within his hollow sockets. "Does the hunger end in undeath?" the blood elf asked, yet Caluvus did not respond. The priest's silence demanded that Viridiel step closer; for perhaps Caluvus's diminished ears had not heard his query. The blood elf was caught off guard when the metal of the undead's staff struck his temple. Dazed, Viridiel staggered back and with another hit across the length of his jaw he fell to the ruined cobblestone beneath him. "In my death I learned to question generosity, for it often hides untold suffering... It often hides his will. You thought me foolish for accepting the selfless gift of the villagers of Hugel, and I was. Yet not as foolish as one who was taught the same lesson and still sought the generosity of a priest's spiritual guidance." The blood elf groaned in pain, his jaw dislocated from the last blow. Pushing himself up and unsheathing his blade he sought to strike Caluvus, but his attack was halted as a bolt of shadow energy blasted the dagger from his hand. The priest spoke once more, "You should be careful what you ask for." Caluvus withdrew from his robes a small satchel and placed it on the cobblestone beside Viridiel. "I awoke with the grain still tied about my waist, but I am neither sure why, nor sure as to how it was preserved in the passing of these years. Perhaps it was fate that it remained with me." The elf's emerald eyes shone with fear as the priest knelt at his side. Viridiel cried out in pain as Caluvus grabbed his dislocated jaw and pulled it so his mouth was open. "Will you become a servant to the Lich King's wrath? Or will you subvert it and become forsaken?" Caluvus asked as he stroked Viridiel's long platinum hair. "You may forget your name, lose hold of precious memories, but I command you to know my name and to know that I give you the gift of faith. I shall take away your hunger and confusion. I am Caluvus, Seer of Silence, Apostle of the Great Dark, and servant to that which even the Burning Legion and plagued Scourge cannot deny." The priest brought forth a handful of grains from his satchel, "Regardless of what occurs you will feel his embrace. Forgotten Shadows shall fade, the Holy Light will betray, and the fel shall consume, but my master is forever. The Silent Lord awaits you. Absolution is given unto you." Viridiel's screams echoed out from the graveyard across Brill and the nearby woods. Yet his scream was soon silenced by a hand that offered the greatest of gifts: generosity. Epilogue The beautiful howls of the wolfish worgen resounded through the night as if to announce Caluvus's arrival at the outpost in Silverpine. Like most forsaken establishments the Sepulcher had once been a graveyard. Such was clear from the stone crypt at the end of the path before Caluvus, and the headstones that lined the way. Giant bats shrieked as they pulled on their chain collars. The flight master waved his staff in the air to try and calm the furry beasts, but to no avail. A grim smile crept up on Caluvus's features as he regarded the chaos in passing. Young fleshlings from the many factions of the Horde walked about attending to trade, military reports, and alchemic experiments. The Sepulcher was fairly busy considering its rather gloomy and remote locale. It was however the heavy panting and clank of metal against metal that caught Caluvus's attention. In a full suite of iron armor a hunched and muscular orc sprinted up the Sepulcher's steep approach. Gore was splattered across his breastplate and his own blood dripped down out of his horned helm from an unseen wound. Wiping the blood from his face the orc slowed and finally collapsed to his knees in exhaustion. Falling into a cross-legged sitting style the orc took his canteen from his belt eager for the cool touch of water upon his lips. Only a few drops of the precious liquid remained to taunt the now angered warrior who slung the empty canteen aside with a snarl. As the bloodied warrior stood a bony hand knocked against his breastplate, and within that hand a leather canteen filled with refreshment. Caluvus grinned and nodded. "Thank you..." The orc replied. For a moment Caluvus thought the orc would say abomination, or grave rot, or perhaps some other insult he had yet to hear, but instead the warrior finished his sentence with, "...old one." Such a reply made Caluvus grin all the wider. "The worgen are relentless foes, young warrior," Caluvus said as he took back his nearly empty canteen from the pale skinned fighter. Removing his helm two long braided locks of raven hair fell across the orc's shoulders, and the rest of his sweaty mane he shook as he sighed. "And how is it you know I fought worgen this eve?" Caluvus tapped the orc's left spaulder with his staff, "Their claws rend metal as well as flesh." This observation got a grin out of the orc, "Aye, I can attest to that much, I suppose." Reaching around to his satchel Caluvus withdrew half a loaf of bread. The orc grinned in reply. "My name is Mokrosh, and I thank you for the food." Caluvus shrugged, "I have no need of it," then paused before asking, "What brings you to these parts?" Mokrosh ran a pale brown hand through his hair, "The sport." The orc devoured the last of the bread with a hungry bite from his tusked mouth. "There is sport in fighting worgen with naught but bare fists, and the trade of selling their hides brings in good coin." Caluvus stared out past the hills of the land from their seated positions against a length of iron fence. "You remind me much of myself when I was young...and living, Mokrosh." The orc blinked, "I had thought your people lost their memories with their...new life." "Oh no, I remember well my life and even my death. Would you like to hear how I died, Mokrosh? It is a tale of battle and honor." Brushing the back of his palm against an unshaven cheek in thought Mokrosh nodded, "I will hear your tale. It is after all the least I can do to repay your generosity." Caluvus grinned. "A decade past I was an orc, much like you." Mokrosh raised a brow, "You were an orc?" Caluvus nodded, "I was many things that I am no longer, but this tale is not that of my first life... only that of my deaths." THE END