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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Kristivas" data-source="post: 2670167" data-attributes="member: 34179">[While not a member of EN, seeing as how he's on the Horde side..  I figured I'd post Ascent's background anyway.  Afterall, before he became Forsaken, Gregory was a good guy and mighta had a place in EN as a human warrior.  Yeah, I know, character's fuled by tragedy are common.. but in a 'land ravaged by war', how can you NOT have them?!  Read on and post your comments if you like/dislike!Oh, my knowledge of the Warcraft storyline isn't 100%, but to a Forsaken, some things are bound to get twisted around.]"Elric, I'm so sorry. Daddy's so sorry.." His nails dug into the stone floor until each fingernail cracked, being torn backwards savagely. His gaze remained on the throne of Lordaeron as his soul wept, but no tears could fall from this corpse that still moved as though he were a part of the natural world. He had been awoken, as an abomination, still crying. The Forsaken were supposed to have forgotten their former lives, and it would have been a blessing to this particular piece of rotting flesh, who's anguish still swirled from deep within. He had mused to himself that perhaps having his soul shattered and his heart broken just hours before his death had somehow preserved his mind after it's vile transformation. -He had been Gregory Marshal Vastul, a blacksmith and proud citizen of Lordaeron. His swords and shields were carried by nearly all ranks of the great Alliance army, and he was honored among his people. Though Gregory had brought himself from poverty to attain a good position in society, it wasn't the money or the respect he cared about like he had in his younger days. Gregory's life was focused and revolved around his son, Elric. He'd accepted a marraige of convenience to a woman whom he neither loved, nor hated. Gregory had simply gone through the motions of family life, until Elric was born. Something at his son's birth stirred within him, changing him forever. Gregory quickly gave up drinking, after-work gambling, the attentions of local !@!#&s, and even trying to advance beyond his station. Of every two coins he made, one was saved for Elric's future.- The corpse rose, heedless of the other Forsaken who'd stopped by to watch him curiously. He wanted to lash out at them all, hit them, kick them, bite them, destroy them. To those he didn't destroy, he hoped would crush his undead skull once and for all, that he might stop living.. could this even be called living? Or stop existing in this damnable state. However, he simply walked past them all. Their murmers that he wasn't right or that he should've stayed buried longer went on ignored. He wandered, mindlessly, until he was well beyond Lordaeron as the sun sank on the horizon, memories returned to his rotting mind. -There was a lot of money to be made for serving in the army, and though he had saved up quite a bit by the time Elric turned four, it wasn't enough to him. When he was a child, Gregory had wanted to become a great mage, studying at Dalaran or Stormwind, but his family was far too poor to afford such training. It was only by being apprenticed out was he able to learn a trade at all. Gregroy knew his Mother had tried hard for him, and he loved her for it. He accepted the apprenticeship and became the best he could be out of respect for her, though she didn't live long to know his accomplishments. But wars were waging, and Gregory knew it was a good chance to serve the army and save even more money. He bid his wife and son farewell and left for distant shores to fight in the name of Lordaeron.- Sitting at the edge of a cliff, staring down at the jagged rocks and crashing waves below, the corpse wondered if such a long fall would be enough to kill him. He stared, almost longingly, at death below. He almost felt himself moving toward it, but something held him back. There was a deep rage buried beneath the sadness, and it was fighting to come to the surface. What, he wondered, was this hatred that kept him from crashing hundreds of feet below and being rejoined with his beloved son? The corpse looked up suddenly, eyes widened. He stared intently at the moon as the focus of his rage came screaming into his filthy, rotting brain. There was someone.. no, something.. to whom he owed a great revenge. There was something that caused the destruction of his land, the devestation of his people, and the death of the only one whom he'd ever truly loved. That something was the Lich King. -Gregory ran toward what the others were calling the Plaguelands. There was civil war now as corpses were fighting each other. He had been away for four years and a cataclysm had struck Lordaeron. He passed others telling him to turn back as they fled toward the few ships that were still picking up the fleeing masses. He ignored warnings and passed by groups of soldiers trying to fight back the Scourge. When a mindless undead would get in his way, his sword rang true. Bloodied and exhausted, Gregory burst through the door of his house. The smell that he found was sickening, and he felt as though he'd been struck in face with it. A few of the survivors had all gathered at Gregory's house to barricade themselves against the horror. Many lay dead on the floor, human and Scourge alike. Few were left alive within when he finally bashed his way into the cellar. He pushed the corpse of his wife aside, lifting his son into his arms. Elric had grown since Gregory had last seen him and appeared to have been becoming a strong lad. Now, the boy was pale, weakened, emaciated. His left arm heavily bandaged in dirty linen from being bitten into by the foul Scourge that he had tried to fight off as it killed his Mother. Tears streamed down Gregory's face as the boy smiled up at him. He had been brave, Elric had said. He had tried to fight when they broke in, and he apologized for not being able to save his Mother. He had tried not to be scared, he knew his Daddy wouldn't want him to be afraid. He tried not to be scared even though he knew he was going to die. Everyone who got bit died, then they got up and became zombies too. Gregory held Elric until the end, even after all of the others had fled. He told him stories of the places he'd seen and of how he had missed him. He got to tell Elric how proud he was of him, and that he wouldn't let him become a zombie after he went to sleep for the last time. When the end finally came, Gregory's sword was used a final time to ensure that his boy would not rise as one of the abominations. He sat beside the body afterward, crying and broken, for how long he didn't know. There had been a crash in the house above him, and his world was plunged into darkness.- The corpse wished he could shed tears. The anger, bitterness, and sadness seemed to be all that he could feel now. His bones creaked as he headed toward the Undercity, again ignoring those looking him over. There would be no sword for him anymore. This time, he would learn magecraft. He would take advantage of those gathered together as Forsaken. He would rise again. As Gregory had risen out of poverty, he would rise from the ashes of despair to turn himself into a machine built for revenge. As his body rose from the grave, he would rise to power until he could blight the Scourge and the ones responsible for it's creation. Gregory was dead, but he would rise again, and he would ascend.</blockquote>

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