Talian

Information

Player: ToxicFrozt

Character Full Name: Talian Stanhope

Character In-Game Name: Talian

Nickname(s): -

Association(s): -

Race: Human

Class: Warlock

Age: 33

Sex: Male

Hair: Black, short and parted down the middle, with sideburns leading to a vandyke.

Eyes: Talian's eyes are his most distinguishing feature, once bright and gleaming, his milky gray eyes are now sunken and deathly pale. The dark circles brought on by lack of sleep could almost have him mistaken for an undead.

Weight: 143 pnd

Height: 5'9

Appearance

Usually seen wearing loose robes, with a hood to cover his tired and weathered face.

Other: There is nothing that stands out about Talian, though one may feel extreme discomfort when in the same room with him.

Personality

Alignment: Lawful Evil

Straight and to the point, nothing vague ever leaves Talian's mouth unless he deems a person unworthy of the full answer. If lack of sleep can change a man, Talian is the perfect example. He was once a bright and happy man, now a miserable and spiteful loony. Talian hates people, he hates the every aspect of community, of love, and of civilization. You will never get a life lesson or a life story out of Talian, for no one would ever understand him and his point of view. He looks down on the world and its inhabitants. In his mind, no one is worthy of life and until they've experienced the pain he has, nor will they ever. Along with his hate and anger, Talian is quite an intelligent man, a sociopath and pathological liar. He could have most simpletons in the palm of his hand, but to do so would lower his standards. Talian surrounds himself only with like minds, and those of an above average IQ.

History

Talian's childhood was that of an average Human, and not important. His story starts much later in life, when he left his home in Lakeshire with wonderlust and adventure in mind. Talian was twenty when he set out with nothing but a backpack and walking stick. He wanted to see the Dwarven mines to the North, and the city of Stormwind to the West, so many places and a whole lifetime to see them. It was midday when Talian set out, the sun rays beamed down through the tree leaves causing Talian to sweat beads. He wiped the sweat from his forehead as he paused to take a look at his surroundings. The forest was deathly quiet, despite it being early afternoon. Talian took a swig from his water skin, as he did so the sound of twigs snapping caught his attention. He spun around quickly and drew his tiny dagger to face nothing. Talian found himself shaking from the fright, and began chuckling at himself. That's when he noticed the cabin off in the distance, half hidden by a thicket of trees. It was run down, with a few broken windows and the door obviously kicked in. Unable to control his urge for adventure, he made his way towards the abandoned hut. He felt a chill run down his spine as he entered through the broken door. The floor boards were a dark crimson, as if a blood pool had been left to soak in, and cobwebs were in every corner, doorway, and window. On the far side of the cabin was a bed, long forgotten and unkept. Next to the bed was a small table, and atop of that table lay the book that would change Talian's life forever.

For the next five years of his travels, Talian kept the book at arms reach. He had tried many a time to translate the runes that covered the old and worn pages, with no luck. Now at the age of twenty five and nothing to show for his travels, Talian was getting tired of life on the road, tired of odd jobs for change, and tired of running from highway men. The sun was setting and Talian had already set up camp, he was sat next to his fire in quiet contemplation when he felt a sudden urge to go on a stroll. He went on a short walk through the forest, picking berries and some mushrooms he found along the way. When he returned to camp he found the fire had burnt out. When he had finally got it going again he noticed his back pack had been knocked over, and the tome lay open on the ground. He propped his bag back up and snatched the book off the ground. He looked it over for the millionth time, flipping through the pages, and looking at the strange runes. After a few minutes of this, using the book as a pillow, he went to sleep.

He awoke to the sound of woman screaming. Startled, he jolted up, hitting his head on the bunk above him. Now confused and scared he jumped out of the bed, completely disoriented. He seemed to be in some sort of communal sleeping chamber in a damp cavern. The room was surrounded by stone, with a worn red carpet in the middle of the chamber lined with bunk beds. At the end of the room there was a archway, leading to a hall with a dim light at the end. Talian, who was still scared out of his wits, made his way towards the screaming. The hall opened up into a large sacrificial chamber. The chamber was lit by dozens of candles, blood stained the stone floor and in the center of it all was a stone tablet. On either side of the stone tablet were two hooded cultists. They wore plain black robes, and their faces were hidden by loose hoods. There was a third cultist whom approach Talian, this one was in a crimson robe of the same design. He held a dagger in his hand, Talian was frozen in fear as the man got closer with each step. "You are late." The cultist was addressing Talian, who's confusion and fear was boiling over. The cultist in the crimson robe handed Talian the dagger. Talian took it without thinking and made his way to the tablet where a naked female lay. The two other cultists were holding her down and her screams filled the cave, echoing off of the walls. This is when Talian realized he wasn't in control, he couldn't move, and the dagger was grasped firmly in his right hand. With no warning, Talian thrust the dagger into the woman's chest, abruptly putting a stop to the screams. Talian woke, letting out a cry of fear that echoed through the quiet night.

This was the first of his horrid nightmares, but certainly not the last. Years passed, and every night he would dream of the cult, every night he would unwillingly perform deeds so dreadful and horrid that he'd awaken to his fingernails dug into his own flesh in an attempt to pull himself out of the dreams. Every dream was different, as if he was living the life of the cultist while he slept. Many of these dreams involved the cultist scribbling down runes into the strange tome that Talian had found. As the dreams progressed, Talian discovered he could now understand the runes, they were now clear as day. He started with the first page, discovering the art of pyromancy. Talian could now control flames, and as he read further into the book, he began to learn more of the dark arts performed by Warlocks. He was still plagued by the horrid nightmares, and it became harder and harder for him to break out of them. One of these dreams in particular gave him extreme anxiety, and the fear he felt the first time he dreamed of the cult was returned.

In the dream, Talian was witnessing a rape. This was not abnormal, for it happened quite often during these brutal nightmares. This one, however, was too much for him to handle. It was taking place in the very cabin he found the book. There were cultists stood all around in a circle, the cultists were of all different races and all focused on what was unfolding in front of them. The man Talian seemed to be imprisoned in was performing the cruel and horrid act. The young woman screamed and struggled. The restraints holding her down would not let her budge. The cultist finished, standing up, he hissed a few words in a tongue Talian did not recognize. As the words left his mouth the woman's torso opened up, revealing her beating heart. The cultist turned and headed towards the table where Talian had originally found the book. At this point, Talian wished he could cry, wished he could have done something. His anger towards this cult of twisted maniacs would burn in him forever, spreading to to engulf him in a inferno of hate and rage that he now felt towards all sentient beings. Before the dream ended the man wrote a final rune into the book, as he finished and proceeded to close the book, he pulled down his hood and looked into the mirror above the table. His face was rotted and falling apart, maggots crawled in and out of his left eye socket. If there was flesh still left around his mouth Talian would have witnessed a hideous smile.

That was the last dream Talian ever had, because that was the last time Talian ever slept. With the knowledge the book had given Talian, he performed a ritual, cursing himself. The curse stopped Talian from sleeping, but also kept his brain from crashing by over exhaustion. Talian continued his study of the dark arts, becoming an accomplished Warlock. He still traveled far and wide, his hate for all living, and even undead burned within him, so he never stayed in one place for too long. The dreams changed Talian, his new life of solitude and pent up hate was all he knew, and quite possibly all he will ever know.