Dreadmoore
From Valwiki
| ||
| Player: | Levowitz. | |
| Title(s): | Duke, Death Knight, Dark Lord. | |
| Age: | 194. | |
| Race: | Undead. | |
| Eye Color: | Green flames. | |
| Hair: | N/A. | |
| Skin Tone: | N/A. | |
| Height: | 6'0". | |
| Weight: | 160 lbs. | |
| Alignment: | Lawful Neutral. | |
| “ |
From the dark into the light, | ” | |
—“Horseman Springing,” Lilla Cabot Perry[1]
| |||
Duke Dreadmoore
Tenacious and filled with drive, Dreadmoore is a fair and vibrant leader despite his decadent appearance. More than anything, personal conviction rules him. Always on the move to keep the peoples, both living and dead, safe, Dreadmoore acts as a constant guardian, a watchful protector, a dark knight.
The Birth
Metamorphosis is a process by which an animal physically develops after birth or hatching, involving a conspicuous and relatively abrupt change. What kind of animal was Dreadmoore before he took up the haunted blade, Blacksoul, from the Obelisk? It doesn't matter. This is the story of the man -- no, the beast -- that came after the metamorphosis. After all, when something changes, it ceases being the former creature and becomes something entirely new.
The night was cold, but not at all quiet. The grunting of a single man, dressed in the ripped shards of a white war-torn Gi gone grey with dirt and grime, clouded the ears of all around. The undead huddled around him as the Suirikun man set the massive black totem on the ground with a massive thud.
The two discussed much quickly before the Monk took his leave. Before the massive Obelisk, Rastance stood with arms folded behind his back, pondering the possibilities of its use. As his gaze traveled up its rocky, jagged surface he spotted something which projected outward; something that didn't belong. Something he recognized as the Abyss Blade Blacksoul. The events which transpired soon after were hazy depending on who you ask, but all agree on the final outcome: someone took the sword out of the Obelisk, and it changed them. The sword screamed at them, shattering their mind until whatever broken personality had taken up the sword, was done away with forever.
The Condition
They say that the sword's change on our cursed friend wasn't only mental. Blacksoul ate at his every trace of once-living energy, draining it from him in order to power what a Lich would have done if Dreadmoore was intended to be a proper Death Knight. Standing in the middle of Mournglade forest, our lone wanderer buckled over and fell to the ground. Where semblances of flesh once hung loosely from his ribs, they quickly rotted to dust. In their place, the cold steel of his breast plate fused tightly. He roared in unimaginable agony as runes burned themselves across its metal surface. Now not quite a Death Knight and not entirely a simple soldier, our cursed wanderer stood in the woods of Mournglade with a dark intent.
Mournehold
Trials and tribulations do not only try and test a man, they forge him through the fires of destiny. Foes becomes friends, and friends become foes. Fate's deciding coin flipped through the air while he waited for it to land, hoping and praying that it would land on its edge. Dreadmoore forged a tower built around a magical source, using its powers to enrich Mournglade with negative energy. He arose allies in all of the undead he could muster, from Skull King to Archonus Shroudsong. This would prove to be his downfall, as Archonus would ultimately betray him. Lost, and without home Dreadmoore swore vengeance attacking Archonus' allies, and giving his enemies knowledge that could pin him. Finally, after his machinations were set in motion, he came to rest in The Bastion of Vile Knowledge.
The Tyrant
The Bastion was not without its uninvited guests. Zahl'Xen, the leader of the Culmination and the most hated enemy of Dreadmoore, stood in its halls claiming them for his own. Dreadmoore had heard voices, and passed through several secret passages. Amongst Zahl'xen stood Reds and Olanis Felwind.
Threats were exchanged, taunts dribbled, and the Vampire Arch-Lord of the Culmination ran like a bat out of hell. Olanis, and the brown skinned 'Reds' pleaded, stating they were trying to remove Zahl'xen from the tower, but the Death Knight seemed entirely unconvinced. However, a voice boomed. The tower asked for the wielder of Blacksoul to release its bounties to the Reliquary.
Stabbing the sword into the reliquary, Blacksoul was relieved of its bounty that it had gained over several life times. Its powers surged through the Bastion and the sword became... empty. The voice which screamed relentlessly faded, and for the first time in seven years Dreadmoore heard silence. However, the Bastion wasn't done. The souls weaved around his body. Where ragged steel armor once lay on his body,now necromantic armor lay instead. Dark purple in hue, runes covered it from collar bone to toe. And in his hand was an Abyss Blade besides Blacksoul. Its clean edge seemed to be a reflection of a perfectionist who might have sent hours cleaning and preparing his sword. And it's name? A foreshadowing of days to come, when Dreadmoore's perfect rule would be considered tyrannical to those who feared him; Reign.
Drow
Some retards set up shop in Mournglade and got rocked and no longer exist. Dreadmoore enjoys their base.
Miscellaneous
