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Old 05-12-2010, 02:18 PM
Malifact Malifact is offline
Join Date: May 2010
Location: Throwing a party in the fortress of solitude...
Posts: 2
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((Just posting a quicky, I'll be filling out the rest in a bit))

NAME: Ibram Malifact
AGE: 23
RACE: Human
CLASS: Death Knight
FACTION: Rogue (Fled from the Deadlands)

EQUIPMENT: (Subject to change)

Fleeing from the Schola Nekromantium, Ibram carries with him only the bare essentials of what he needs to survive, along with a few stolen tomes. His current inventory is this:

Dreadsteel-forged plate armor.
Val'gar Skull-Helm.

Voidsteel Soulblade: Ibram bears this blade with pride; it was his reward for single-handedly sevaling a break in the Flow of Life which had caused a swell of energy to infest the dead yards, stopping the swarm of newly-animated zombies by shearing off the font of the energy which reanimated them. The blade itself is a bastard sword, able to be wielded either one or two handed, the grip formed from polished ebonwood and the guard fashioned from tempered mithril set in the shape of a Daemonic Skull. The horns which spiral out from the skulls base from the cross-guard, and the blade itself measures almost 3 1/2 feet in length.

A small coinpouch, containing a meager sum of gold.
Three blackened, hidebound tomes taken from the Crypt, the tomb in which the Terrorguard houses it's most ancient, forlorn secrets. The pages reveal their secrets as the reader progresses in power and understanding; a failsafe, should a thief or one outside the Knighthood try and look upon the ancient secrets.

A ragged bedroll intended for someone half his size, which he keeps tied to his skeletal steeds saddlepack.

MOUNT: Ibram rides a skeletal steed, a beast of his own creation. The creature is utterly loyal to him, and will run without tiring, until either it's bones give out or the energy which sustains it is entirely used up.

DESCRIPTION: Ibram is lean and tall, his 6'3 ft frame built lean and whiplike. His features are handsome in the same way that snakes and well-kept weapons are handsome; cold and dangerous. He cares little for vanity, however, keeping his raven-black hair sheared off roughly at mid-neck. His eyes are sharp and cold, a stern ice-blue.

HISTORY: ((It's absolute shit, I know, but I want to try and develop him further in-character >_<)

Ibram forsoke his mortal life for the power which Undead offered when he was but 15 years old, answering the Xithan Terrorguard's call for raw recruits to join their ranks. Apprenticed to one of the Terrorguard's Tomb Lords, he drank in the knowledge bestowed upon him, taking everything which was taught in stride. His appetite for Necromantic knowledge was voracious, and he progressed at a far rapid rate than the other Neophytes. But this would prove to be his undoing; he delved too deep, read ancient works penned by Those From Outside, scrolls which were not meant for mortal eyes.

What he learned from them scarred his mind irrevocably. Worse still, the next day the Crypt Keepers discovered that the ancient tomes had been disturbed; one unworthy of their knowledge had dared glimpse at the forbidden secrets. Knowing full well that they would kill him if they discovered that he, a mere neophyte, had looked upon the unholy relics, Ibram packed up what little he possessed and fled the Deadlands, riding his rotting steed northwards. He knew not where he was going, as long as it was far, far away from where he'd come.

Ibram has been running for almost three months now. He hopes against reason that, by proving himself in wild, he will be able to return and beg forgiveness from the Crypt Lords; at least, that's what he tells himself. He knows full well that he can never return, can never show his face in the Deadlands again without the chance of recognition.
Paranoia is a comforting state of mind. If you think they're out to get you, it means you think you matter.

~Gibran Quail

Last edited by Malifact; 05-13-2010 at 04:47 AM.
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