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About Urivial

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  • Birthday 08/13/1985

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  1. Late-night Hijacking this thread so I can get this off my chest: I miss the TNG I quite literally grew up on and all the people that came with it. Just spent an hour going through 28 pages of old stupid blogs I posted. 2 years of history, yeesh. Okay now I can go to bed.
  2. Urivial’s eyes moved across the rolling hills around him as the stallion he rode trotted down the road towards Lakeshire. The lands around him were quiet and calm and it disturbed him more than he cared to admit. The Redridge Mountains were not known for their peacefulness. He grew happier when he saw someone else walking along the road as well, a woman carrying a basket with flowers poking out of it. He couldn’t help but study her even as he raised a hand and prepared to call out. From what he could see, she looked to be an adult of some years, not some child or teenager. She had short blonde hair and most of her figure was hidden by a simple white and blue dress. As his horse began to close the distance his eyes settled upon a single black hair his goggles had picked up on her shoulder. Strange to see, but likely as meaningless as much of what his goggles deigned to alert him of. “Hail!” he called out as he urged his horse to catch up to the woman who turned around, clearly startled. With a smile he looked down at her, “A pleasure to see another friendly face on the road today, miss.” The dear lady looked abashed and subdued, most likely from his distinctive presence. She looked down before speaking, “Oh! Sir Knight forgive me for not noticing you sooner. I-it is a pleasure to see someone of your stature patrolling our roads.” He sighed and dismounted from his horse with ease, smiling at her as he brought himself down to her level, “My dear, you need not lower your gaze to me. I have dedicated my life to defending and serving our people. A people you are part of. I implore you, please speak to me directly.” Slowly the woman looked up, a tentative smile on her face as well as she nodded, “T-thank you Sir Knight. Ah, could I perhaps convince you to accompany me home? The roads are dangerous and it would be my honor to cook for you. A-and my s-son would just love to meet you.” Urivial considered for a moment, looking at the woman behind his goggles. He noted how the comment about her son seemed to be almost an afterthought to her, but no reason why jumped to the front of his mind. He had food on him, but nothing beat a fresh, home-cooked meal. Even organic and long lasting Pandaren foods couldn't stand up to a hot plate of market food and wine. With a wide grin and a nod, the Paladin took his horse’s reins and gestured down the road, “That sounds wonderful miss. A home-cooked meal in exchange for a tale of bravery or two seems a fair trade to me.” The woman smiled back at him and began leading him down the road towards her home. Urivial followed, leading his horse along at a sedate pace using the reins he held in his hand. He made a few attempts at small-talk with the woman, but she was strangely recalcitrant. Eventually a cottage came into view and as they drew closer she turned to him and spoke, “Ah, t-there it is. Let me go on ahead, I just need to t-tidy up a bit first.” Urivial frowned as she rushed towards the door of her home. She was acting stranger and stranger as time went on and he found himself altogether too curious now. He followed her instead of waiting, only around ten feet behind her when she flung the door open. Her body went rigid, her fingers clutching at the door as she cried out, sudden anguish filling her voice, “I did everythi-!” Urivial’s eyes widened as she was cut off, her body suddenly flung back onto the ground by the force of something striking her head. He rushed forward, but could see she was already dead; a throwing knife up to the hilt in her forehead and her blood staining the red earth beneath her. He knelt down and closed her eyes, before moving to the entryway of the cottage, ready for a fight. Looking inside, he found himself going entirely still, his eyes widening behind his goggles as he stared at the sight before him. Kelenis Firesworn sat at a chair, holding a young human boy in his arms. The child’s eyes were glassy and dead to the world, due to the long slash across his throat. His life blood had poured all over the floor by this point and Kelenis contemptuously tossed the body aside as he stood and looked at Urivial. “Kelenis.” Urivial whispered, pained by the sight before him. A woman and her child were dead, at the hand of a blood elf that should have left the mortal coil long ago. Said blood elf sneered in response to Urivial’s voice. “Beckett. Time we finished things.” And with those simple words, Kelenis attacked. Urivial lay on the ground outside the half-destroyed cottage, defeated. He coughed and pain erupted in his midsection. He was sure that at least one rib was broken from Kelenis finishing the fight by throwing him through a weakened cottage wall. He grimaced as he was forced to admit the ugly truth. He was beaten, Kelenis had won. The elf stood over him, looking down upon Urivial with a mad grin. “The Great Urivial Beckett, defeated. This is a glorious day!” Kelenis sneered happily, laughing as he circled his fallen opponent, "You brought this upon yourself, Beckett!" He continued to stare at the man, hatred filling his gaze. Urivial grimaced again, but after a long moment nodded tiredly, “I suppose I did Kelenis. The victory is yours. Come, finish it.” A moment passed, before Kelenis knelt behind Urivial’s head, his hands on the clasps that kept the goggles on Urivial’s face, “I intend to, but first, a trophy.” The goggles came away and Urivial looked up into Kelenis’ eyes with all of the disgust he could muster. His hand brought up the vial he’d taken from his belt while Kelenis closed in, and he delighted in the way the elf’s eyes widened in terror as he recognized what Urivial held. The vial in Urivial’s hand seemed innocent enough at first, just another glass cylinder filled with some fluid. But for those who were engineers, the bright orange color was an obvious give away to what it held. Ever since people had begun to build Blingtron 4000 remotes, they’d been summoning the golden robot. He’d given gifts to any and all who asked for them. Sometimes the gifts were useful, sometimes they were insulting. Sometimes they were disturbing such as the damaged generosity circuits many engineers had found in their daily present. But only one gift was fatal to the receiver if opened carelessly. Bottled Fire and its simple yet cautious warning label; “Opening Causes Death.” Urivial placed his thumb under the clasp of the Bottled Fire, and popped it open in one vicious move, even as Kelenis tried to stumble back. “Die with me Kelenis Firesworn!” were the last words Urivial got out before his world was consumed by flame. Fortunately for Kelenis, the Light reacted to his terror instinctively, and as he stumbled back from the growing inferno, it surrounded him with a protective shield of energy right as the fire washed over him and ravaged the area. When the flames finally died down, he was left alone in a field of ash. Urivial Beckett was gone once and for all.
  3. A thousand times this happened, with them trading insults back and forth amongst each other. And then Igh had a moment of inspiration. Before the large explosion that inevitably ended both of them could happen, he placed himself within an ice block, both middle fingers outstretched at Altherion as he became invulnerable. The explosion tore Altherion apart and Igh cackled evilly as he let the ice block dissipate. "Ahahahahaha! Yes, finally free of that ignorant buffoon! I shall take this world by stor-" It was at that point that shrapnel the size of his body went through his head and he died again.
  4. Igh only had a moment to contemplate Altherion's stupidity before the explosion took them both in a fiery blast. Moments later they found themselves reconstituting once more under the large tree in Stonetalon Mountains that the druids had made into a school. Igh turned to Altherion and spoke this time, "I fucking hate you." And then the Horde's giant spiky red bomb went off and they were once again destroyed.
  5. Uniformity and Personality, Solidarity and Uniqueness. These things did not always go hand in hand, but neither were they completely anathema to one another. It was a melding of the two that Urivial found himself contemplating now. The Knights of Turalyon were unified under their purpose, but their personalities were now allowed to shine through far brighter than they had in the past. Urivial smiled as he considered his time as a Knight of Stormwind. In the beginning of his time he had worn the standard uniform of the Stormwind Army. It had been made to fit him, and he had worn it with pride and honor. As time went on however, and his abilities in battle shone through, his superiors eventually stopped caring about what he wore, so long as he brought in results. So he had changed things up, his armor had stayed simple but also become his own, keeping to that vibe of a Holy Knight, and keeping to the colors of Stormwind. The goggles were entirely his own though, sitting upon his face and giving him invaluable tactical data and offensive capability. The goggles became a part of his identity over time, creating a persona for Urivial that grew to be known far and wide. It grew to the point that seeing Urivial without his goggles became cause for alarm and shock amongst those around him. He had continued to wear the armor and those goggles even as he transitioned from Alliance Military to Karma Police, and from Karma Police to Hand of Salvation. Urivial even went as far as to craft the colors of his charity around his armor, melding them perfectly together to form what he hoped to be an appealing and awe inspiring image. People grew to expect him to look a certain way, and he basked in his individuality. Then Vedma had died and the charity had fallen. He had lost the ability to lose the Light at the same time, and couldn’t find the inner strength to hold it up on his own any longer. So he moved on, searching for a worthy cause and finding it in the Kingdom of Arathor. He had joined, and been stripped of that individuality with great speed. Once again he wore a uniform that gave him no room to stand out, and merely made him another helm in a crowd. Urivial was just fine with that though. His pride had been the cause of his downfall before, and he saw no reason to cling to that which held him captive any longer. Material possessions were just that, merely material. What mattered in the end was making a difference in the world, and with the Arathorians Urivial felt he was truly doing that. He would miss his goggles, the pair of glowing eyes that he’d worn for years by that point. But all things come to an end. Now though, now things were different. The Kingdom had fallen, not to enemies or covert forces, but merely passed away in the night, the Steward’s words ringing loudly in Urivial’s ears; “The time for Arathor’s rise is not now.” The Knights of Turalyon had risen from its ashes, and Urivial found himself with purpose once more. The book showed him the way, and he was given his task. At the same time, he was given his mantle. Smiling happily as he reached up and brushed the goggles adorning his eyes he nodded, completely satisified. The Light had seen fit to return his goggles to him. When deciding upon what suited Urivial best as a mantle, the Light reached within his very soul, and found what he needed. He would wear his tabard and armor with honor and pride as he always had. He would exemplify the standards of their Order and follow the words of the book. He would do it all while wearing a pair of glowing engineering goggles.
  6. ((Hey look I wrote dis.)) The World of Azeroth had always been one of change, a world of a million dangers, all vying for power or control or a thousand other inconceivable things. It was surprising how long some folks lasted in a world where everyone and everything could decide to try to kill you at any time. To put it truthfully, Azeroth bred dangerous individuals, people who would stop at nothing to obtain their goals. Strangely enough, this is what Urivial Beckett found himself thinking about as he sat upon a saddle and looked down upon the Shrine of Seven Stars from his perch. Only a month ago had he joined the Kingdom of Arathor. Only a month ago had he pledged himself to a cause that he thought would set him on the path to obtaining his own goals. Now, it was all for naught it seemed. The Kingdom crumbled in the span of a week, its citizens abandoning it, its soldiers vanishing to Light knows where. Avici himself had told Urivial that a decision had been made by the Lords and Steward. The time for the Kingdom’s rise was not now. It would seem that they would have to wait for the return of the true King. In truth, Urivial understood and even agreed. The Arathorians had pushed their advantage after consolidating Arathi, and had taken key points of Hillsbrad back from the undead threat. Yet did they truly have the capability to hold it afterwards? The Forsaken War Machine was immense, and grew with every enemy kill they made. It was only a matter of time before the Banshee Queen turned her true force against their fledging Kingdom. Still, Urivial would have fought until the end regardless. He would have stood with the Kingdom of Arathor until the end, if necessary. Alas it was not meant to be and even as Urivial grew lost and confused, unsure of where he was meant to go next, an answer revealed itself to him. A book had found its way into Urivial’s hands, and he had consumed all it had to offer. Smiling as he considered the words he closed his eyes and breathed in deep. For those who seek justice… He had always sought justice both for others and for himself. He acknowledged that he did not always do it in the correct way, and his path had been fraught with pitfalls and mistakes made. No man was perfect, no mortal was without fault. He could only do his best, and do what he felt was right. No more, no less. Life before Death. The words of the book continued to come back to him, and he considered just what they meant to him as he sat comfortably. There had been times where he had thrown himself into situations where his death was almost assured. He’d come out of it still alive, but never expecting to survive. Now though, now he was aware of just how precious his and every other life was. Strength before Weakness. There were more than enough times in his life where he’d grown weak. Urivial had made his mistakes, had fallen prey to the weakness of man just as much as any other. The sins of greed, envy, wrath, and pride had all held hold over him at one time or another. Journey before Destination. This perhaps, was the phrase within the book that spoke to him the most. He had focused solely on the destination before, not caring about the journey, nor who he had to walk upon to get to where he was going. He had hurt others in the name of a cause, and he had ended up burnt most violently for it. He had learned from that mistake, but part of his redemption needed to be finding another way. A better way. He smiled as he considered the next words, and they slipped out from his lips as he murmured them quietly, feeling the truth of each sentence. “I will protect those who cannot protect themselves,” Always, always would he protect the innocent, the weak and feeble. “I will remember those who have been forgotten,” He thought of his family and his teachers, the people who had made him who he was today that he would never let be forgotten. He opened his eyes as the words of the book faded to the back of his mind. He was a new man, a changed man now. As he looked down upon the Shrine and the desecrated Vale beyond it he felt his resolve harden. He was no longer just a Knight of Stormwind or Arathor. He was beyond mortal allegiances. He was what the Light wished of him. The Light wished for a Redeemer. ((Yeah, you know you like it.))
  7. Urivial ran a palm over his face, contemplating his course of action. He would shortly be heading to Stormwind where he could take the portal in the Mage Tower on his journey to the Dark Portal and Outland beyond. Bringing his fingers to his lips, he let loose a sharp whistle. Moments later Blueberry landed in front of him, four powerful clawed legs touching down onto the snow of Don Morogh as the sapphire panther turned to look at him with knowing yellow eyes. He reached the first portal and found himself in the Blasted Lands. Breathing in slowly, he took in the scent and taste of fire and brimstone around him, before urging Blueberry towards the large swirling green abyss that was the Dark Portal. Once through, he ignored the demons assaulting the other side and urged his mount to take him towards Shadowmoon Valley. The fighters at the Dark Portal may attempt to help him in his self-imposed task, and that he did not want. Soon enough the dark landscape dotted with fel fire was beneath him. He made his way to the fortifications in front of the Black Temple, still covered in lesser demons plodding around. He landed and shooed Blueberry away, before drawing his sword and looking it over one last time. He had forsaken the weapon at first, feeling it to be tainted by his hands; eventually he would pick it up once more, understanding that the blade was as much a part of him as his armor or his goggles. Grasping that sword with both hands he turned towards the demons and began glowing with light, attracting attention. Eventually they had all noticed him, and several had begun to charge. Normally he would shout something like ‘For the Light!’ at this juncture, but no words escaped his lips. He was not doing this for the Light, both he and the mystical power knew that. Hours passed, his muscles began to ache but Urivial did not falter. Demon bodies littered the landscape and weariness seeped into his bones, but he did not fall. They came one at a time, in twos and threes and fours and fives but Urivial would not break against their onslaught. He didn’t really keep count, but he liked to think he killed at least a hundred before they backed off to rethink the situation. The Light held him up, seeping through his body and using him to carry out its will. Several yards away from the exhausted paladin three portals opened up, the middle one large enough to be ominous, with two smaller portals accompanying it. Urivial looked to the portals warily, gathering what strength he could in this moment of respite. Out of the floating doorways poured a uncountable multitude of imps! The evil little creatures spread out in all directions, encircling Urivial as he stood there panting. They did not attack directly, instead chanting lowly in what could only be demonic. The hordes fell silent as out of the center portal stepped a grotesque creature, obviously some mutated form of an Imp. Its beady eyes focused on Urivial and a sneer spread across its ugly face before turning into a wicked smirk. Urivial hid a grimace behind a steely gaze of determination as he eyed his new foes. On his best day he may have been able to take all of these imps and even their disgusting overlord. At the very least he could have escaped the hordes, imps were not known for the intelligence. However, Urivial had not had a best day in a very long time. Straightening up, Urivial set his mouth in a firm line as he reached within himself and drew up every ounce of energy he had left. The Light answered his call and he felt a surge of adrenaline wash through him giving his tired body one last wind. He watched the Imp Lord glare and suddenly thrust his staff forward, yelling a demonic battlecry that sent the imp hordes surging forward. Urivial lay broken on the ground. The light had said its farewell and gone from him, and he hoped that it found new champions to carry on its work. His life had been long enough, though short by most standards. He liked to think he had done most if not all of what he set out to do. The forces of evil were less for his existence and with that thought he was truly at peace. The Imp hordes lay dead around him, less than a tenth of their number still alive at the end. The Imp Lord had stayed back and now it stepped forward, confident of Urivial’s defeat. The filthy creature reached down to grab at Urivial, its fat diseased hand moving towards him. The broken nail of the Imp Lord’s thumb scratched lightly against Urivial’s breastplate before the paladin reacted. Grasping the bottle at his belt he pulled it up and held it out in front of him as if to ward off the demon. For a moment the Imp Lord even reared back in surprise before peering at the bottle and chuckling, moving in on him again. Urivial just curled his lips upward in a smile and with the pop of his thumb opened the Bottled Fire. His last thought before he died in the ensuing blaze was that he hoped the demon died as well. ((I rewrote this because the first version was hasty and pretty lame. Hope whoever reads this enjoys it.))
  8. Thanks for sharing this, was really good.
  9. ((Loved getting to read this again. One of my favorite RPs Eve <3))
  10. Main RP Toon: Urivial Beckett Horde Or Alliance? Alliance Guild: The Dusk Watch What was your favorite RP event or storyline? I loved every single RP storyline I watched/was a part of while on TN. I'll never forget this server. Who is someone that you used to RP with and haven't heard from in a long time, that you miss the most? When thinking about amount of time, I have to say that Cavanaugh was someone that I truly missed for the remainder of my time on TN after he stopped playing. But truthfully, I miss RPing with every last one of you, even those of you who may not like me for one reason or another. Share a screenshot from an RP you enjoyed: http://i.imgur.com/MFcXMDB.jpg It's been great folks, but I don't intend to ever return to Twisting Nether. I would love to participate in any events you want me to be part of, I'd love to RP with pretty much any of you, but Emerald Dream has swallowed me up whole, and with finally having a job, and college classes, I prefer the active laid back atmosphere of a larger population server.
  11. <p>Wait until a double exp weekend hits, drop the $15 and finish 2-3 class stories a week. I've only got two to go, and I've doen two of them twice. </p>

    <p>It's not like it's taken my entire play experience to get there either, most of my play time is at end game gearing or roleplaying.</p>

  12. <p>I sort of agree, but I'm not willing to pay 15 bucks monthly to see each. And I tried SWTOR's F2P, when you get to around 30, the exp gain is so much less than a subscriber that you have to go kill hundreds of mobs to progress through the stories. Not worth it to me.</p>

  13. <p>TOR is the third KOTOR, and the fourth... up to the tenth. </p>

    <p>With the exception of two of the 8 class stories, theyr'e all pretty amazing. Two of them are pretty "meh" (Counselor, Trooper)</p>