A Predisposition for Torment

[RhaShazad]

As a Forsaken, his human past is shrouded in mystery. But from day one, he could tell he was atypical of the rest. His affinity for the demonic arts was strong and led him to trouble within the undead ranks of the Forsaken. He left Lordearon for Durotar, starting over to serve a Warchief he believed in. In Kalimdor he grew in experiance and wisdom, and all they while under watchful eyes.


He returned to the Eastern Kingdoms to join the fight in the Plaguelands. 4 long years of fighting brought him fame within the Dawn and trust of his fellow crusaders. It was in the midst of the Scourge he had decided, that all other alliegences were minor compared to the Dawn. Here all that mattered was defeating the Scourge. The quarrels between Horde and Alliance became insignifigant, for the better of the world he fought for both sides.


It was in a final attack upon Stratholme that a critical part of his past was revealed to him. In a back alley behind the ruins of a building, he stumbled upon a puddle. Puddles of blood were not uncommon in the Plaguelands, but this one was different. it was evil, wicked, a deep blackened pool that seemed to resonate with what pumped in his veins. It then triggered a violent flashback of months before his death.


He had been an apprentice mage, living in Stratholme before the beginning of the Plague and the Culling. Then to the Culling itself, with Scourge and demons running loose in the streets. He ducked into an alley, hoping to hide. Then behind appeared a fearsome figure. A giant demon, the Eredar Prince Malchezaar, had watched him without arousing the suspicions of the dreadlords. He had most impressed him among the insects calling themselves humans.

Easily subduing the frightened young man, he engaged in a ritual the humans and other races used to gain demonic power and bind themselves forever tot he nether. From a slight wound he inflicted on himself, Malchezzar's unholy blood was forced into the veins of the beaten mage, and after he was satisfied the deed was done, Malchezzar left.

The special mage writhed in pain, crawling away from where he had been assaulted and eventually escaped to Brill before the plague eventually surcumbed to death. Ramshackle recovered from the memory, deciding to bottle what he could of the foul substance and continue on. Stratholme fell, and Naxxaramas vanished before the Argent Dawn could assault it. The Argents regrouped and for a time there was a peace.

After a time of rest, Ramshackle decided he needed to continue to learn. The Scourge's magic was still potent, and in learning more about it's parent magic, he could better combat it. His journey led him to Outland, the shattered world beyond the Dark Portal. The months there were spent well. He watched and even interrogated demons, learning well their many secrets. Just as he had thought he had learned enough, word reached him of a place of interest.

Karazahn, the tower home to Medihv, and now home to what many suspected was a demon of great power. It took him time, to find adventurers brave enough to enter the much haunted tower, but eventually a group was assembled. It was under the guise to defend Azeroth, but he had to see for himself. After the group had gathered at the base of the tower, they entered and began the long ascent. It took them days, barely evading disaster each encount of the specters that haunted the tower.

And finally, nearly a week after entering the maddening place, they reach the top. Awaiting them was a specter from the undead's dead past. The eredar had been waiting for them, and Ramshackle specifically. Easily singling him from the group and forcing the others back down the tower. Malchezzar took delight as his pet project tried to resist him with his weakened magic. He taunted him, slowly revealing how his unlife had been guided up to this point.

He was to be a new form of a soldier for the Legion. A more powerful warlock to begin seeding the foundations of the Legion's operations on other worlds. But Ramshackle had gotten too smart too quickly, had began to question too much. Malchezzar was going to erase his mind and put in a soul of an old servant, making his pet project truly useful. But Ramshackle wouldn't have it.

For years he held back a lion's share of his power and knowledge. The depth of his fel magic was unknown even to him, and now he was going to use it against his own creator. They fought, the twisting space now filled with fel energy. It came down to luck, and Malchezar fell. During the battle, the old bottle of demon blood had broken, seeping into Ramshackle's wounds, fueling his urge to fight, but in the end was now killing him.

With the Eredar prince dead, Ramshackle fled. Dying, he tried to make to Light's Hope Chapel, but fell in a small clearing. There he seemingly died. In his battle atop Karazahn, other eredar had watched, and all simply left when Malchezzar's pet project killed him. But one lingered. She was intrigued by the undead man. She followed him, brushed asside any that would harm him until he dropped to the ground.

There he was buried, in the plague ridden soil, and sealed there. The Black Temple fell, Kil'Jaeden defeated at the Sunwell. He continued to rest, watched over until he was need. Months passed, and finally the time had come. Acherus had appeared near Light's Hope, the Lich King had confronted Tirion Fordring. The armies of the Horde and Alliance had marched onto Northrend. His guardian ripped him from the earth, having sacrificed dozens of demons to revive him.

Shara'Ral would be with him, to watch him grow. She thought he had potential beyond her own, and planned to capitalize on it. But now he was known to the Legion, and had to hide. He came to find he had been litle missed in the current state of the world. He was refitted and sent to Northrend for a time. He joined in the fight to bring Naxxaramas to the ground finally, and was rewarded by Dalaran for his part in the momentous event.

But soon Ramshackle departed from Northrend, signs of the Legion looking for him driving him out of the sight of more sensitive people. He took to helping the people of the world, while their heroes fought the Scourge a continent away. Out in the wilds of the world, he had to bid his time and hope his power did not become the great evil Shara'Ral wanted it to be.

[Shari'Adune Forestsong]

((A very exciting read you have here!))

[catastrokon]

Update!


Shortly before the defeat of the Lich King, Ramshackle had become intangled in a battle within Onslaught Harbor. Seemingly banished, he was declared dead and his ally Catastrokon critically injured, his name ultimately faded. In truth, the Scarlet Onslaught had banished him. The wounded demon found himself, oddly enough, in Outland. Unable to return to Azeroth, Ramshackle recovered in Shattarth.

It turned out he had been gone for months, the Lich King had been defeated. The world was somewhat at peace. And that seemed to be good enough. He decided to try and retire in Outland, fighting demons and practicing his skill in engineering. For almost two years he seemed content enough with that solitary life. But then he began to hear the whispers of the discontent growing on Azeroth.

He had almost forgotten about his home as things began to worse. He languished in Shattarth, and mere days after Deathwing broke out from Deepholm, he could take it no longer. He begged, pleaded, and implored the Naa'ru A'dal for aid. Finally the being of Light consented, though to do so, removed much of his fel power, rendering him more of a warlock than a demon. Weakened but no less wise, he took on the new appearance and alias Rhaluzzian Eclipse, and now does what he can in a world that has all but buried his memory.

[RhaluzzianEclipse]

Redone the history.

Born Rhaluzzian Morning-Song, this warlock is a more classic recluse. Born around the same time as King Terenas Menethil II, Rhaluzzian lived a typical life as a Quel'dorei. He was adept with magic, naturally studying the arcane as so many of his brothers and sisters. His large family was a proud line, dating back to the Highborne's flight from Kalimdor, and was a stalward vangard of Quel'Thalas. And much of his life he spend curious of what lie beyond the boundries of the elven forests.

His curiosity would be tested with the coming of the orcish Horde. He was too young at the time to fight, but was always eager to hear the stories his borthers and sisters would tell of the battles. After the Horde was defeated, he resumed his studies and long to explore. His parents were adamant about keeping their children home, seeing all the elder children scarred mentally and physically from the war.

Finally he got his chance to see the outside world, sadly, as the Scourge rose up and attacked Quel'Thalas. By then he was a very good magister, but could only do so much. Escaping with minor wounds, he tried to aid in the rebuilding of the ruined city. As the numbers began to fall to the Wretched, he began looking for any recourse. Kael'Thas returned and brought with him fel magic to strengthen his people. Rha gravitated to it readily, his family much more reluctant to it. The were horrified to hear he abandoned his mage training in favor of the dark arts.

His reaoning was good natured, but his family was entrenched in old ways, and despite the love for the now wayward son, expelled him. He fled from Silvermoon City and disappeared into the wilds for several years. He sought no contact in them and he was dead to them. So great was their fear of the power he commanded, he could not understand how they could be so old fashioned to turn their back on a less savory option.

He put his time to good use, mastering demon fire and also keeping his mind extra sharp by taking up the lucritive trade of engineering. Years passed as he grew in strength, running astray of a band of Warsong Outriders upon his arrival in Kalimdor's Ashenvale forest. The event left him plenty of new scars and a brand, as well as a seething hate for the Warsong Clan. As his kind was invited into the Horde as he made the journey to Outland, he would not return to Silvermoon. The campaign in Outland ended and he could not settle in one place, always roaming and still avoiding Silvermoon.

The Northrend campaigne begins and he charges head long into the fighting. He spends much of his time In Dalaran while in the frozen north, avoiding his siblings even though he has not seen or spoken to them in years. The campaigne ends without him setting foot once in Icecrown Citadel, focused instead on his studies and looking ahead. He sees the patterns in the data he accumulates, knowing something is always coming for them all next. He was wise in his own right, always moving and observing and rarely making an impact.

The only time the recluse has ever returned home was when news reached him that his family had been entirely wiped out. So great was their conviction to preserving Quel'Thalas they all tried to spearhead an attack on the Twilight Citadel. It failed, all of them killed. Rhaluzzian was brought in to lay them to rest in a family burial plot. The plot was sealed then, as he was no longer a member of the Morning-Song. He had cared for them, but he could do nothing for them. They had been too set in their ways.

The family fortune and holdings were liquidated and put into the city's coffers. Changing his last name to Eclipse, Rha returns to his shadowy life, now alone and condemned to be the last of his line. He is accustomed to the solitude, but returning to Silvermoon nearly undoes him, making him long for things his dark arts had tried so hard to squash. Now he wants to try the impossible: be a tainted warlock and belong to a group, much like a family.