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About Tarrus

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  • Birthday 09/03/1985
  1. You guys are awesome. Thanks! Another question; is the Horde RP tending to be Blood-elf focused again? That's what drove me crazy last time. No room for a Tauren.
  2. Hello there. I've been out of the World of Warcraft loop for about a year now. I try to stay up-to-date with technical and lore progressions, but I can't keep track of the most important thing in this game: the community. I have both Horde and Alliance players on TNG and when I return later this month, I think I'll be creating an Orc Death Knight to play as my new main. My one question is, what's happened with Twisting Nether in the past year? Last year, the Horde was dead in terms of RP activity, but the Alliance was flourishing with it. I've been browsing around and it seems that most of the old guilds are still there. So, beloved Twisting Netherlites, please enlighten me - What's new with our community?
  3. <p>Thanks! I appreciate it</p>

  4. <p>Hello again Tarrus. I moved "Day of Training" to the Nether Legends section. The Journals section is for in-character journals, things written by the character. A story such as yours is more at home in the Nether Legends section.</p>

  5. ((Please comment with your thoughts on this story. I appreciate all forms of critique and certainly appreciation!))
  6. Three men clapsed in leather and tattered cloth, their backs against the walls of the alleyway, whispered in unintelligible murmurs. Two of them were tying a poor linen to their faces, masking their indentities. The other already tied his cloth to his face and was sharpening his short dagger with a gray stone. He let the rock drop to the ground and looked back at the others, nodding at them - a signal. They looked around the corners before hastily walking into the nearest shop. It was the shop of a family and their servants, a tailoring shop. As the renegades entered, one of the servants stopped what she was doing and looked up. Unsure of what to make of the masked men, she tried to remain calm. In a forced, hushed tone she asked, "Can I help you with anything today, sirs?" The leader of the three let his eyes narrow, and the woman could almost make out a smile behind his mask. He pulled out two blades and placed himself infront of her. The other two men went down the stairs behind her as a shriek was cut short. The leader wiped his blades on his pants and confidently walked down the stairs. Once there, his assistants already had everyone on the ground. A dark haired Quel'dorei, the leader of the shop, approached the blonde man. "Please," he begged, "Take it all. Don't hurt anyone." The leader chuckled to himself at the plea. He raised closed hand with a thumb protruding from the fist to his neck. He swiped the thumb across his own neck, signaling to the other men to deal with the three servants and the head seamstress. "No!" the man shouted. He turned his back to run to his lover, but the blonde man thrusted one blade into his back. As the man arched himself in pain, the thief drew another dagger and, with one hand pulling the old man's hair, slit his throat. The thieves proceded to search the room for any amount of treasure. All of it began to be blurred out by a green fire, growing in intensity. -------- He awoke, breathing heavily. Looking around at his surroundings, he realized not all of that was a dream. He was in the middle of desolace, lying against the cold, hard earth. He thought of how he ended up there. A young, 27 year old magister. He returned home to find his parent's shop in destruction. He had no idea what to do, so he fled. Days later, a strange man offered to teach him the fel arts. Angry at the arcane for not being able to save what he loved, he accepted without hesistation. Last he remembered, his new mentor opened a portal for him. Dareus sat up from his position and peered into the distance. As he panned his view across the landscape, he saw two figures in the distance. A finely robed Quel'dorei made his way to Dareus. The other figure, a lanky imp, was heaving and pulling at a wagon filled with dozens of dead rodents. "Ah, I see you've finally decided your training had a greater priority over your sleep." Dareus' response was nothing more than a cold stare. The warlock sighed. "Then we'll continue. You've told me you're good with fire. I'd love to see what the magisters taught you for the past twenty years. While Kizlok empties the cart, I'll tell you what you'll do. The first corpse? Send a bolt of fire towards it." Dareus nodded and placed himself into a balanced position. He then followed the basic procedure with his hands, bringing them together after a series of movements, and igniting the air between his palms. The bolt of fire flew and hit the first rat, sending the corpse several feet away. Sadair then walked over and knelt near the rat. After moments of speculation, Sadair turned back to Dareus. "Precisely what I expected. No burn, no lasting affliction. You simply darkened the fur." Sadair walked to where Dareus was standing and followed a much more artistic pattern of movements with his hands, shooting a brighter firebolt towards a new corpse. The rat slid a much further distance than the previous one. The compeltely charred body was aflame with the brightest yellow. Sadair smiled at his work. The two practiced this technique for the rest of the day, Sadair finally dismissed Dareus and allowed him to rest. Dareus drifted off into a deep sleep. He began to have the same dream as before, except this time, before the thugs could hurt his family, they combusted into a green flame. Once more, the dream ended with his vision gradually becoming blurrier with the intensifying of the flame, until finally it was all that he could see. He awoke much easier this time. As he opened his eyes, he felt a tugging at his robe. He looked down to see a small, firey abomination. It was the same as Sadair's except considerably smaller. The imp cautiously backed away, but didn't run. Sadair was sitting on a tree stump several yards away, chuckling. "It seems you've muttered more than just a few words in your sleep last night, Dareus. You've spoken your first summoning spell." The imp hopped over to three stump and began shrieking in a foreign tongue. Dareus seemed to almost understand what the imp was trying to say. Sadair watched the imp at his feet and smiled as he listened to the language. "He says his name is Quzpep. He is now completely bound to you." Dareus almost smiled for the first time in days as the imp danced his way back to Dareus' feet. "Come, we have much work to do." the warlock said to his pupil as he rose from the stump and began walking towards the distance.
  7. <p>You may want to fix your signature. The HTML code isn't displaying the image--just the code.</p>

  8. Of my near-six years of World of Warcraft, I've been lucky enough to spent a third of that with the Grim. Without a doubt, this is the best guild I've been in due to their amount of organization, the wonderfully written stories of the players' characters, and the best part; the players themselves. As cliche' as it is, they really have become a second family of sorts.
  9. The rain storm calmed down, the clashes of steel and flesh were over, and the soldiers stood staring in silence. In the circle of these valliant men and women, a beam of light shot high into the air. Tirion stood, giving his speech and uniting two opposites together for one cause - Destroying the Lich King. You know the story of the death knight's plight. You know how they were brainwashed, used, and sent on a final suicide mission. What you may not know, however, is how those same knights managed after this. Remember, these death knights were raised, quite literally, to be the perfect killing machines. Arthas attempted to remove their emotions, their free will, and their soul. Migrating back into the societies they once knew may have even been harder than breaking free of the Lich King's will to begin with. Most of these knights instantly returned to battle. They wanted bloodshed and revenge. Surely, there are exceptions to every stereotype. Baldos is one of these exceptions. He had no desire to fight. He wanted to rest and return to society and become a civilian. However, people weren't so accepting of a warrior of such undeath. It was hard to hide too. His eyes emitted the brightest blue light that could only be hidden by a hood. Baldos returned to the only thing that seemed familiar to him: Ironforge. He soon discovered that his memory was completely wiped and only slowly recovering. He remembered his name, and he remembered he had a family, but he couldn't remember their names or even his last name. All he knew was he had the word "Duskbrew" carved into the steel of his boot. The same boot he awoke from the dead with. He had no purpose other than visiting the Ironforge bar every night, that is, until he decided to know his purpose. One night, he sat near the bar staring at his boot. "Duskbrew..." he thought. He spent weeks searching the city for anyone of the name of 'Duskbrew' until a commoner pointed him in the direction of Stormwind. Baldos followed the address to a small yet elegant house in the Dwarven district. He knocked and a dwarf slightly younger than him answered. "What ye want?" the dwarf said crankily. "Duskbrew? Is that your name?" "Yes that be me and wh... Wait. Baldos? Is that you?" "It is." Baldos replied in monotone, still unable to recognize the dwarf. Duskbrew cheered and his tone became merry. He quickly pulled Baldos into his house still yelling with excitement. Because Baldos was pulled so brashly, his hood fell behind his head. The room became silent very, very quickly. "No..." the now shocked Dwarf said in a whisper. "What's happened has happened. What matters now is remembering who I am." "Remeberin' who ye are, Baldos?" "Yes, this undeath has caused me to lose all of my memories. I don't even know you, and I should, shouldn't I?" "Why, yes, of course. I was a close friend to you and your family for ages. I'm a blacksmith. Hell, I've built half of the metal you're wearing." "So I did have a family. Did I have a wife?" "Yes Baldos, two sons too. You'd be good to find them." "What is my last name then?" "Your last name? It's Brightmountain. Ye were a fierce rifleman in days past, Baldos... I didn't think they'd ever be able to take you down." "It isn't important. Where can I find them?" "Should be somewhere near Southshore in Hillsbrad." "Thats all I needed. Thank you." With that, Baldos left on his quest to find his family. ((Stopping for tonight. One post spot is reserved to continue the story. If you liked it, feel free to comment/advise/praise/critique! I'm new with Dwarven roleplaying, so I know I have a lot to learn.))
  10. Honestly, I'd love to get my troll hunter into this. I just want a very organized clan. Rites of passage, a communism sense to the tribe (RP of course.), "coming of age" quests to prove your value to the clan, etc. I'd help tonight but.. I'm still having troubles getting WoW up and running.
  11. I'm currently looking for someone to make a picture for me. Preferably a signature, but an avatar works as well. The picture will be of my warlock, Dareus Thal'dor He has well kept jet black hair goes just past his shoulders. Put emphasis on his green eyes. If I could describe my ideal facial expression, i'd ask for a "classy villain", one who is educated and always shows manners. The way he smiles is completely up to you. As for accessories, I'm a big fan of the nemesis set. No helm. A totally optional accessory is also a big part of his character. He wears a golden chain around his neck at all times with a ruby pendant cut in the shape of a phoenix. I've always imagined the shape of the phoenix totally reflexive, so you could fold one side over the other. However, if you have a vision you think is cooler, go for it! You're the artist and doing this out of generosity. I'd like him in a relaxed stance with one arm holding a small, burning fire, as if he's about to unleash a firebolt. Another totally optional request is that you add a demon next to him. Imp or fel puppy, your choice, because Dareus loves both. Finally, it's completely optional if you write "Dareus Thal'dor" on it anywhere. And when I say optional, I mean it might look good, but if you have a better idea or feel it should be left out, then do that. Thanks so much if anyone picks up on this
  12. I'm sure I'll eventually get into this. I'm still dreaming up ideas for my goblin. I know the basics. He will be a servant to my blood elf warlock, Dareus. He will act as a house-sitter, banker, and financial advisor to Dareus. The goblin will likely be afraid of Dareus, but only Dareus. To everyone else, he'll be acting like the equivalent to a real life college hotshot. He will constantly aim to make money, talk behind Dareus' back, and likely host parties when Dareus is on.. Business.
  13. <p>Very impressive. I likes the second part of your RP. Keep it going man. I need a good read every now and then.</p>

  14. ((A continuation from the story 'Finding a Guide')) Nervous, emotionally drained, exhausted, weakened, pained, broken. Those emotions were all Dareus knew at this point. Sadair approached without caution and politely introduced himself. He asked Dareus if the horse Sadair held by the reigns was his, but Sadair knew it was. "No, that horse belongs to my parents." Dareus said grimfully. "Nonsense!" Sadair replied. "Your parents are dead, or did you forget that?" Dareus' eyes flared wide with anger. He jumped to his feet, bearing his teeth, and shot a bolt of fire straight towards the stranger. All the elder high elf could do was grin. He raised his hand as if he was about to slap Dareus from a distance, waited, and then hit the ball of flame with his backhand, sending it into the sky. "Finished yet?" Sadair asked in his calm, collected tone. The reply he recieved was what he expected: Another firebolt. Sadair turned so his side was facing Dareus, closed his eyes and let out a sigh. He lifted his left hand, made his fingers point to the sky, and shot his own firey bolt back. The two bolts collided in the air. Dareus' bolt did nothing more than provide a small barrier to Sadair's, who's bolt came and hit Dareus square in the chest. Dareus was knocked back breathless for several feet until he collided with his back to the bottom of a cliff. Sadair approached the now gasping Dareus. "Finished yet?" he asked again. "Of course you are, you aren't so stupid to strike me again." "You... You killed my parents!" Dareus breathed. "Come to finish me off? Then do it!" "Ah, still dillusional I see. No, I didn't kill your parents child, thugs did. And so eager to die! Why is that? You're a young graduate with much to look foward to! So you had a minor setback, there are worse things. Besides, look at this horse! This will become very valuable to you in the future. "What do you mean?" Dareus asked, still on the ground. "You're full of questions, aren't you? I'll answer them later. Now, come with me. We have much work to do!" Sadair turned, leaving Dareus and his horse together, and began to quickly walk away from Silvermoon, down to the South of Eversong. Dareus paused for several seconds before getting up and jogging to the back of Sadair. When he caught up, he asked him questions. Lots of questions. 'What are you doing? Why am I so important? Who are you, exactly?' but each question had the same answer: "You'll see." Dareus was in the process of asking another question when Sadair stopped and turned around. Cutting him off mid-sentence, Sadair began. "Enough! Listen, those magi taught you how to teleport, right?" "I'm done with magic, Sadair. It didn't save what mattered most to me. It's useless." "So ignorant!" Sadair shouted. "Answer the question!" "Well, yes, but I vowed to never use arcane again." "Good, arcane is an art only silly, apathetic fools would use. However, they taught you fire and frost, yes? Forget the frost. We'll improve the fire. Now we just need to throw some shadow in the mix! We'll have a beautiful cake then, wouldn't you agree?" Sadair chuckled to himself, laughing at his own joke. Dareus stood silent. "You're a Warlock, aren't you?" Sadair coughed, bringing himself to stop laughing. "Ah, so you are intelligent. Perhaps I did get lucky with this one. Yes, and I imagine those at Dalaran taught you to be weary of us. Perhaps one of their most correct teachings. Now listen, we're going to a new place. It's called Desolace. Your horse is going too." "Get lucky? Am I part of some game where you seek for an apprentice? What happened to your other apprentices then? And why are you taking me to Desolace? How will we get there without the use of arcane? My horse?" "Again with the questions! We'll work on that too." As Sadair trailed off, he began to weave his hands. A small purple sphere appeared to his side which began to grow in size. The sphere let off hundreds of black sparks as it grew until it was evident that it was a portal. Once it reached about 8 feet in diameter, it stopped. "Inside you go! I trust you will be able to survive this. And no, don't ask another question. Get in." Dareus inhaled deeply, and did as Sadair asked. He stuck his hand inside the sphere and it seemed to grow around him, when he was just being pulled in. He closed his eyes and began to feel his body levitate as if it were being tossed around by some oafish ogre. He felt a cool sense come over him and began to feel increasingly dizzy. It stopped. He opened his eyes and was lying on a cold gray floor. As he tried to stand, he fell back over and began vomiting all around him. He heard Sadair's voice. "Ah, Desolace. Smells wonderful, doesn't it? Now stop making a mess on my scenery! Up up!" Dareus stood, still feeling woozy. He looked around at the overbearing gray mountains and the black, cloudy sky. Lightning danced behind the mountains and wind whistled through the valley. He was in a wide, open space. Nothing was around him except gusts of dirt, Sadair, his horse, and very dry skeleton of a kodo. "Now, I'll tell you what I'm doing here, Dareus. Yes, I am a Warlock. As you know, the fel arts are heavily looked down upon, and forbidden in some places. Not here. Not with me. The population of shadow masters, such as myself, is very, very thin. Some join willingly, others are recruited. You are the latter. Be honored, Dareus. I think it was 18 years ago when I began hearing reports of you. You had a very keen knowledge of fire. Top of your class even. Listen to me, young one. Whatever drives you, focus on that. Something made you very good at what you do, and that wasn't your parents' deaths. Do not shift your passions, it will cloud your mind and drive you to insanity. Your destiny was to become a great Warlock. The choice is yours however. If the answer is no, you will be returned to your home and forgotten by us. No harm will come to you... From us, that is. If yes, we will begin immediately after you sign a contract. I will not sugarcoat this. I will require the best of you. Past students of mine have perished before the first year was over. Make your decision." Dareus was still in shock as to what was happening. 20 minutes ago he didn't even know this man. Now he was being asked to sign his life away. "Sadair, I accept. Now, what do I sign? Do I have to say certain words?" "Not quite" Sadair responded. He reached into his robes and pulled out two short blades. He handed one to Dareus. "This is your blade now. Keep it hidden. It is your hammer. Its victims are your anvil. Now, you will begin to forge a beautiful blade with it, one sharper than any warrior's blade, and deadlier than any mages." Dareus took it. "So, now what?" "You still haven't signed the contract. Sit." they both sat. "Give me your sinister hand, Dareus." Sadair gripped Dareus' wrist and pulled the hand to his lap. With his free hand, he held his dagger and slid the blade across Dareus' palm. Dareus cringed at first but said nothing. "Does it hurt Dareus?" "It does." "Good. It's to remind you that you are not immortal. Be weary of everything. Now, you do mine." Dareus grabbed the Warlock's wrist and slid his blade across his hand. "Many groups do something similiar to this. It's a form of trust, with no real advantage attached to it. We go much further. When you grab my hand, our blood will smear together. Once your hand begins to feel hot, you may remove it. At that point, part of myself will flow through you. You'll have an advantage over demons once you take my fel blood. No matter the amount you recieve, it will spread. Your entire body will soon be filled with it." "Did you have to do this?" Dareus asked. "The blood is a necessity to all Warlocks, Dareus. I had to act as an assassin to get mine. A human warlock died at the cost of this blood. Normally, I wouldn't allow myself to take an innocent so easily. However, this human was drunk and angry. That reminds me, don't drink. Who knows where he got his. We are all related, Dareus. You will become my brother once we join hands, but not only mine, you will be a brother to all those who practice the fel arts." Dareus grinned, embracing the new identity. He put his hand out, and Sadair raised his so their palms were pressed against each other. Several seconds passed, and Dareus' hand grew warm. He removed it, but the heat didn't go away. It began to pulse, getting hotter with each pulse. The heat traveled through his arm and into his chest quickly. It proceeded to spread throughout his entire body. Dareus panicked as the heat became too hot to bare. He frantically looked at Sadair who only watched. Dareus began to scream and flail. Then everything grew dark. He fell into a very, very deep sleep.