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#12874772 Nov 23, 2016 at 08:07 AM
48 Posts
Name: Simon Redgate


Affiliations: Cult of the Forgotten Shadow (tenuously), Twilight's Hammer (formerly)


Skills: Excellent interrogator, skilled sermonizer, can see through others' eyes (but not his own), is already insane and thus can't go mad(der).


Appearance: Simon is, like many undead, a disgusting, rotted corpse. Bone peeks through his flesh here and there, and the skin appears to have been methodically peeled in some places. Oddly, though, he does seem to give some care to his appearance - his hair is usually kept neat and tidy, and his robes are almost always immaculate. The end result is a bit disquieting, the man being at once tidy and ruined.


Who he is: Simon Redgate's history isn't too hard to track - he was a citizen of Lordaeron's capital city itself, after all. Record indicates he was a preacher at one of the cathedrals there, a devout servant of the Light. After the Scourge came, his fate was obvious: he was torn apart by the Undead and raised among their number, his shambling corpse having the good fortune to survive the Third War and be freed along with the rest of the newly-born Forsaken.

Simon took to his freedom worse than many, his faith in the Light having been a core part of his being. Though he tried to take to the Shadow, his heart wasn't truly in it, and he still longed for the touch of the Light, practicing its use in private.

The torment, both physical and spiritual, broke him. By the time of the Northrend expedition, he had lost all hope, dedicating himself solely to the defeat of the Scourge.

But then, in the Howling Fjord, he began to hear...whispers. Feeling as if something was calling to him, Simon disappeared into the canyons. This is where obtainable record of him ends for several years.

During this period, he listened to the maddening whispers of Yogg-Saron, only his own festering insanity stopping him from going mad in time for the Old God to use him as a pawn before it was defeated in Ulduar. Still, it drove him irrevocably insane, and he wandered off.

He found the Twilight's Hammer around the time of the Cataclysm, and joined them eagerly. With them, his study of the Void grew more intense, his fascination with the maddening whispers that still gnawed at his skull - from a new source, now - becoming an obsession.

This obsession did keep him out of the line of fire as the servants of Deathwing were scattered and broken, and the Twilight's Hammer all but crumbled around him. By this time, Simon's madness was calming into the "functional" insanity of a true scholar of the Void, helped by the dimming intensity of the whispers, as their greatest servant was defeated.

Realizing a losing bet when he saw it, Simon quietly slipped back in with the Forsaken - after all, it wasn't like the Twilight's Hammer's members were public knowledge. Back with his people, Simon has remained as loyal as a man like him can be, having no intention of dooming the world or betraying the Horde.

For now, he is content to study the Void, having joined the Scythe in part to have an excuse to put study into practice.


Misc. Details: -Simon is blind, but is capable of using shadow magic to look through the eyes of others. He is able to do this with very little effort and focus, allowing him to navigate perfectly well, as long as people are around (and in the right positions) for him to see with. It does mean that if his spellcasting is somehow stopped, though, he will become completely blind.
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#14290601 Jan 18, 2020 at 05:50 AM
48 Posts
Mad scrabblings on a tattered piece of parchment...

It is a curious madness that afflicts the drowning.

As the water embraces you, you struggle - you hold your breath, you reach for the surface. But eventually, inevitably, you open up. You let the water in. You gasp, and try to breathe, but the only thing that arrives is choking, agonizing, water. It engulfs you entirely, and nothing is left.

In those moments, in that glorious agony between suffocation and drowning, a person would do anything for a breath of air. The most noble being in all the world would murder their own brother, if it would only let them breathe.

It is my great sorrow that I can no longer experience such torment. My lungs are still, my heart no longer beating - and I have no more brothers besides.

But there is something to be said for living vicariously through others, I think. To see their deaths through their own eyes. It is a beautiful thing, to bear witness to the unique way each soul thrashes, writhes, in their final moments. To reach in and bear witness to their madness.

And sometimes...sometimes, the Master hears them. The madness of the drowning, the silent bubbling screams, the torment - sometimes I watch as clawing, scrabbling darkness reaches in, engulfs them, and they are gone. Our bond severed, my eyes blind once more.

In this way I serve this world's true master. In this way, I bring him his chosen, born anew of the festering waters to bring about his Black Empire.

This world's death is a beautiful song.
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