Amorthios

Information

Player: Solly

Character Full Name: Amorthios

Character In-Game Name: Amorthios

Nickname(s): None

Association(s): The Ebon Blade

Race: Undead (Blood Elf)

Class: Death Knight

Age: Died at 135

Sex: Male

Hair: Amorthios' hair is a deep blue shade, nearly black. It is straight and falls down around his shoulders and reaches mid-back. He doesn't really pay it much attention. Eyes: His eerie silvery eyes glow with Scourge corruption.

Weight: Unsure

Height: 6'4”

Other: Amorthios was slain before being raised in the Lich King's service. Death's chilled embrace has not faded from him, though freed from the icy grasp of the earth where he once fell. If one happens to touch his skin in the first place, they would notice that it is tepid. Extending that contact for several moments would allow the person to feel the icy lines of veins below his skin. Prolonged exposure would make the person grow numb due to the sensation of a ‘frozen core'. His skin is a pale ashen gray, tinged lightly blue as though he had been left out in the cold while his skin began to decay a little – the tips of his ears are a darker gray. Though that appears to be superficial end of his decay. Internal functions like digestion and passing of food are no longer valid.

Amorthios now speaks in a baritone growl though it almost sounds as though there is an eerie echo laid over it, as if the mind and body never fully reconnected and the growl is the body's way of catching up to the once pleasant lower pitched voice that Amorthios possessed in life.

Alignment: Chaos

Appearance

Amorthios is rarely seen out of armour.

Personality

Amorthios used to have a pretty sterling character. Trustworthy, hard-working, genuine, friendly, and all kinds of charismatic. But where there is lightness, darkness cannot be in the same place. This applies to Amorthios. The necromancer that raised him was not overly picky about keeping everything in tact when he was torn back from the Nether after six years. What got pulled back was... Whatever was being slowly left behind and that which could not be separated from his soul. The love that had once been pleasantly interwoven with everything in his life has now turned to an all consuming obsession. The tenderness and sweetness turning to viciousness and hungering. The aspects of his personality that he was leaving behind as his spirit made its journey to his final resting place were all the things that came back with him as they were the only things the necromancer could grasp. Greed, a horrifying rage, despair.... The overwhelming emotions he'd experienced just shortly before his life was ended. These are all he has left. The chaos that had enveloped him has corrupted the few ‘good' traces that may have been pulled by mistake.

Amorthios' path is frost, his specialization. It's no wonder that most physical things that would cause most people discomfort are no longer registered. He has a slight aversion to fire, but most physical pain is simply ignored. His demeanour is downright glacial – showing no signs of empathy or sympathy. And as his personality is now constructed of all the negativity he one had and once controlled –it's an easy assumption (and one you'd be correct in making) to make that he's not the most pleasant fellow to hang around. His only tolerance seems to be towards fellow Death Knights, though this is not because of some kind of feeling of brotherhood or sisterhood – more because they are not as annoying and frivolous as the living.

History

Once, Amorthios was a well-meaning, passionate and endlessly loyal man. He was a fierce patriot and devoted much of his life to training and protecting the lands alongside the other High Elves that devoted themselves in service to KingAnasterian. He was not a god on the field, though he had enough prowess and charisma to be allowed leadership of about 30 other fellow High Elves. However, he was more than just a soldier – he was a lover. And a passionate one at that. The only one thing he loved more than his people as a whole – was the beautiful woman he was courting. Love is blind, wretchedly so. She kept him on the line all the while promising to be his the moment her parents would deem him worthy enough. It was the spark that lit the fire of determination and ambition in his fiery soul.

War came to them. Amorthios was there to help evacuate survivors and was enraged and yet soul rending devastated at the same time when he hoisted torches to low sweeping boughs of the beloved trees of Quel'Thalas to spite the Scourge. Destroying their lands before the foul Scourge could do it. Whether it was exhaustion and a heavy heart that brought him to bended knee or that undying loyalty – Amorthios was one of the first to offer his support to Kael'Thas' sovereignty. After Silvermoon fell, it was not long before the Sunwell was destined to fall, as well. Defiled and ruined. It had to be destroyed. Having never been massively talented in the ways of magic – Amorthios was given precious time to see his beloved rather than being present on the day. She was alive – that was all that mattered, though it did not take long for him to realize that something had changed in her and was instead met with hostility rather than joy. Vowing to try to fix this problem and avenge those who'd been lost – Amorthios proudly embraced the change from High Elf to Blood Elf and followed Kael'Thas...

This path eventually led him to Northrend. It was to be a race to stop Arthas. Almost as they touched the shores it was a battle for survival. First from the very elements themselves (having spent a lifetime in the magically enchanted and eternally spring), and then against Azjol-Nerub's forces. It was looking as though he may escape with his life but Arthas had arrived on the scene. Amorthios was never to see him – having been engaged in battle with the undead. There would have been plenty of scars, but the thick plate armour he'd worn had protected him. His strokes were strong and true – dispatching many. It was a curse that finally got him, twisting his last moments into a nightmare of agony and confusion. His last memories fading into the snow like the blood trickling out of his eyes, nose, and mouth. It was there that his story should have ended and it seemed as though it might – the action had moved on when Kael'Thas fled back to the Outlands.

It seemed as though perhaps he had gotten lucky. Maybe he would have stayed dead – untormented by the horror of coming back and being used by no choice of your own. And then... Six years later... A voice whispered in a frozen ear. Filling a despairingly empty place with an inescapable scraping. A gnawing, a biting. The body rose – the mind returning to it slowly with a horrifying hollowness. The body and mind offered loyalty in undying (for that part had already been done) servitude to the Lich King. He killed without remorse and was a perfect instrument that felt little pain and certain not much in the way of other discomforts. The elements, it seemed, had no effect him. He no longer desired the joys of the flesh – having no requirements of food or drink... Only an insatiable desire for blood and carnage. When he was sent to Light's Hope as fodder and the Lich King's grasp momentarily weakened, his mind thawed enough that a single memory and a few attached emotions returned. He went through the motions of swearing allegiance to the Ebon Blade – hated his walk of humiliation through Orgrimmar, though mostly because he was not killing the insolent orcs that threw rotten fruit at him. And more than that – it was delaying him. His mind fixed on one thing and one thing alone. Finding his love and what had become of her.