User:Veritech5/Story

History
Exodus

Epion was three years old when he was hurriedly carried out of Stormwind by his Father, Epion James Striveheart, running from the Orc onslaught during the First war. The rest of his family lay dead on the ground as tears stream down his father’s hardened face. He and his young father journeyed as exiles with those lucky enough to evade death's grip personified in the shape of Orcs, to the shores of Lordaeron.

Epion the younger was shepherded by a Paladin of the Silver Hand, named Jacob Tuvir in Stratholme, while his father fought and waged a war against the vile orcs attempting to destroy his son's last hope of a normal life. Stratholme Life

Fifteen years passed and one fateful, rainy day in Stratholme, after he received his father's hallowed blade, he met the love of his life, Alyssa Claire Reamer. But when the plague hit, his wife perished:

"A man knelt down in the mud, rain pouring relentless onto him, pounding into him, adding to his already staggering loss. He was completely destroyed, devastated, his heart had irrevocably been ripped from his chest, he felt dead inside just like his wife he was grieving for.

Cradling her in his arms, burying his head into her as he sobbed uncontrollably, words of woe interspersed the agonized pleas, “Why me- she didn’t deserve this- take me instead!” he continued to cry, his tears being engulfed by the rain still pelting him. The whole world seemed against him.

It seemed Epion knelt in that pool of mud for an eternity, drenched and shivering he eventually wrapped his wife's figure reverently and solemnly in a blanket in between the pained sobs of misery. He laid her down on the ground, and staggered to one knee before his lifeless partner, the void left by her death changed him forever. He sobbed uncontrollably into his hands.

His wife awoke that night when Epion had cried himself to sleep. But she wasn't the same, she wasn't that safe, kind, gentle, and loving woman he had known before. She was nightmarish ghoul, of the Scourge. He awoke wide-eyed to find his dead wife straggling him. He stared into her face, and hopelessness washed over him, revulsion even, and the resolve to save his daughter from this fate. He fought back and finally ended the monstrosity."

Regardless of his efforts, his daughter, he had tried so hard to save, died too.

Kalimdor

He left on the last boat and followed Jaina to the “forgotten lands of Kalimdor.” He never forgave himself for leaving Lordaeron, the only home he'd ever remembered and really had, but nothing was there anymore that meant anything, only a plague ravaged land. While he was on Kalimdor, he fought in the third mighty war against the burning legion. After he stayed in Theramore, until their sister nation, Stormwind, called for aid; Epion gladly answered this call for help.

Return

He was eager to see his father again, to show him how much he had grown in the light, but his father had long since gone into outland. During the short period of time that Epion was in Stormwind, he joined an organization called Salvation. He also found another mentor by the name of Selesxante, and he felt welcomed; at home. . . But the heart ache was there, he longed to see his father, to see his wife and child once more.

Last Chapter of his Life

He straddled onto his faithful horse, Valor. The heart ache, which was left in the wake of his wife and child’s sickening deaths, grew into a burning desire for vengeance. He traveled to the western edge of the plagued lands where he was conscripted into the Argent Dawn, through lies, he managed to convinced several Argent Dawn soldiers into fighting into the heart of the scourge inside Eastern Plaguelands, the Argent Soldiers he had convinced into aiding him were long dead before he was surrounded in the Plaguewood atop his stalwart horse.

He fought desperately and savagely, the light still slaying what he wanted to slay and smite what he wanted to smite, he slaughtered scores of undead, until he was overwhelmed by the masses. He fought teeth and nail but he was no match for the Scourge's might.

The first memory he remembered after oblivion was being in a graveyard, an ominous, abandoned, chapel loomed over him as he wandered the graveyard, he came to a tombstone, it read, 'Here lies Apolyon Striveheart' no date was given, no additional information, nothing except a name, he had stared at that oddly relevant tombstone and decided to take the name for himself, for the tombstone was an allegory of him, no information about his life; nothing.

He altered the name in honor of his new powers (Although he had no idea that person was his great grandfather), he was now Apolyon Plagueheart.

He became a Death Knight of Archeus, he was there for the Battle for Light's Hope Chapel, and saw the traitorous dog Darion betray The Lich King. He vowed to rejoin him, inwardly cursing Darion for speaking for all the Death Knights, not foolish enough to proclaim his resolute loyalty to the Scourge. He later sought Kel'thuzad, anyone who could bring him back to the Scourge, and then he found The Cult of the Damned and was welcomed with open arms like a long lost brother, having passed his test to see if he'd come back if he was let loose; He had passed, and gained favor with him.

But after dedicating his whole purpose to the Cult of the Damned he found himself later over looking New Avalon, an emotion struck him profoundly that moment. He allowed a single memory to seep into his consciousness. And then that memory flashed, like a heartbeat, before his eyes…

He was nowhere, but at the same time he was everywhere. He was the scene unfolding before his omnipotent gaze and yet he was detached. And the scene was that of a girl, a bed-ridden girl caused by sickness. Her eyelids were drooped and her forehead and cheeks were the deepest of red. Sweat dripped from her face and covered her hand that was gripped by another. So tight was the vice-like grip that it seemed to be a life-line for them both.

And the one gripping the girl’s hand spoke to her in a fatherly and worried tone, “Everything is going to be alright.” The little sick girl whimpered from the pain and began to cry. The tears brought the father to sobs. And then the father managed words again, quelling the sobs of grief. “I’ll make the pain stop– I promise you,” The Father loses his momentary cool and sobs. The girl continued to cry, “Make the pain stop, daddy.”

The daddy hugged the girl, and whispered to her, “I know my dearest Alyssa, I will.”

And then the door banged open and monsters of his nightmares poured in, filling the small and humble home. And they murdered his friend –his only friend– his dearest Alyssa was gone… because of the Scourge…

He found himself kneeling before New Avalon, a city that he had helped massacre, remorse in his soul, and vengeance in hand personified into his Runeblade and that single memory in his mind, opening the flood gates; heralding the pouring in of long forgotten memories into his mind, and they strengthened him.

He started an order to fight the Lich King, and fittingly he named his new order, Remorse, founded with fellow Death Knights he helped sever from him.

A good time after he had formed the order, he journeyed to Northrend where he fought the Scourge, he trained and honed his skills, until he arrived at Grizzly hills, where he met a troll named Drakuru, after he captured him for Samir at a place called Granite Springs. The troll offered a truce, and he also offered to aid him. The crafty troll tricked him into helping achieve the downfall of the one of the largest troll nations. He watched in horror as the Lich King stepped forward from the shadows to congratulate Drakuru on his accomplishments, after Plagueheart had helped him destroy the Keep leading to Zul'drak. Flames surrounded him and troll bodies lay piles, almost too limitless to count as he stood before the Lich King, horrified by what he had done.

He slaughtered his way into Zul'drak, undead troll limbs and blood in his wake, to try and repair what damage he had caused. His eyes widened as he saw gargoyles and necropoli looming over the troll kingdom already.

He found familiar faces; Argent Crusade, who directed him to the Knights of the Ebon Blade and began working through them to achieve what he had originally thought about doing alone.

He was given countless missions undercover as a giest, but when he came face to face with Drakuru again, the troll immediately saw past his disguise. Drakuru gave him tasks to complete, still thinking that he was loyal to him until it escalated to him fighting Drakuru on the top of a necropolis with the help of one of Drakuru's freakish creation using a Scepter of Domination, he had been given, but when the first one died, he was in trouble, he quickly attempted to subdue another Blightblood troll in hopes of defeating Drakuru once and for all. The second Blightblood was about to die before Plagueheart ran up and leapt onto the Blightblood troll's back, and jumped off at his enemy and was knocked back into the Blightblood, a roar from Drakuru could be heard, "ENOUGH!" Plagueheart's head snapped up and glared at Drakuru as his eyes lingered back to his Blade, broken and useless, he discarded it and prepared to fight with out. Drakuru smirked, "Dis foolish treachery has cost ya your destiny!" Then the Lich King came through a newly erupted portal, summoned by Drakuru, and proceeded to explain, "Master, dis mortal scum be double-crossin' us. Dey must be made to suffer!"

Plagueheart could not help but bow his head, his eyes transfixed still on his broken blade some feet away. "You have failed me, Drakuru!" the voice of the Lich King accused, "It is you who should suffer. Be content that your death is a quick one..." Plagueheart's eyes widened with shock as he heard a thud, and then the chilling voice of him again, "As for you... I spare your insignificant life as a reward for this amusing betrayal. There may yet be a shred of potential in you."

The Lich King paused, "Be warned... When next we meet I shall require much more to justify your life."

Plagueheart dashes for his destroyed blade, and then snatched Drakuru's skull; the whole point of this endeavor and ran for it as soon as he had tied loose ends at Ebon Watch and ran as far as he could. He completely alone, by the time he realized it, and in the howling blizzards and barren landscapes of Northrend.

His solitude affected him deeply; the whispers of the Lich King echoing in his consciousness finally drove him mad, breaking him. Plagueheart slowly walked the long journey, up the stairs the Icecrown Citadel and knelt, his long blackened and matted hair hanging over his emotionless face, "Where shall my blood be spilled..." he spoke fervently, his right hand over his heart. While the cold frigid winds howled around him, whispering echoing all around him, "Stormwind, has stood standing... far... too... long..."

Plagueheart was taken in a slaughterhouse, and tortured into insanity by physical and mental means; punished for his rebellious nature against the scourge, and was prepared to serve as the herald of destruction of the Kingdom of Stormwind.

He stayed in his organization of Remorse, which had grown, the fools still thinking he held his same values to heart, he called Murtagh to his side, who willingly pledged himself to his sinister plan.

He would first have to remove Rathnall from the picture, a night elf with a very power weapon and hands to wield it. The sword he possessed had one flaw, it could not harm allies. So he challenged Rathnall to a playful duel, to see the victor of it, with his accomplice Murtagh watching close by.

Rathnall set his sword propped up near a tree, and took out a considerably weaker weapon. He attacked with his full force from the start and brought him to his knees.

He slowly walked up to the kneeling elf, his eyes flaming furiously, and Rathnall called, "Plagueheart, what're you doing?" And he smiled and glances up at Murtagh, now looming over Rathnall from behind. Murtagh plunged his blade into his back. Rathnall crumpled over, beginning to bleed from the open wound. Plagueheart kelt down near him, and smiled, "We'll take good care of Synithys." he tilted his head and stood up, he took his Runeblade from his scabbard on his back, and positioned the blade over the elf's chest, the tip of the Runeblade poised. He dropped down to his knees, using his full weight to plunge his blade into Rathnall, he whispers once more, "It's nothing... personal." he laughed, and twisted the blade painfully.

Synithys was gone for a long period of time, which left the weak, redemption seeking drones defenseless. He called them all to a guild meeting inside their halls, as they all filed in, weaponless, wearing robes. He smiled with Murtagh, and one by one murdered all of the members of Remorse, leaving only Synithys.

Synithys came back, thinking Murtagh and He were still light loving slaves, bent on seeking forgiveness like the rest of the dead of Remorse. Synithys, had a soft spot for Plagueheart, and was worried about him, they embraced, and he plunged a dagger into her back.

Plagueheart hunted down many of the people that had connections to his father and murdered them; most notably of these were Kermir Stonebead and Daumigar 'Hawkeye' Gorefang.

He re-founded and gathered back the Cult of the Damned in the Kingdom of Stormwind and began his work, not thinking once about his forgotten almost-freedom.