| Mortique | |
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Race: |
Human (Gilnean/Lordaeron ancestry) |
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Birthplace: |
Silverpine Forest |
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Residence: |
Nomadic |
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Titles: |
N/A |
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Occupation(s): |
Dark Arcanist(Current) |
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Affilation(s): |
The Blackwind Collective(Current) |
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Alignment: |
Chaotic Neutral |
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Status: |
Alive |
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Religion: |
The Light(Former) |
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Age: |
Late Twenties |
The blue clad arcanist stood braced low to the ground, stooping atop the wayward surface of a roughly hewn piece of earth which had long since broken free of Draenor to travel lost forever upon the nether winds. He shakily rose to his feet, claiming his balance in the dubious gravity of the place. He let his arms down to his sides. His features claiming the picture of pure passivity as he closed his eyes. One of his sweaty hands absently traced several lines of detail engraved onto the pommel of his weapon, while the other hanged free of any hold. At that moment, staring with closed eyes into the nothingness before him. Salis Bleakknolls dared look into the void as he had so many times, and the void looked back as it always did.
A burning sensation shot through his neural network as his human mind comprehended the vastness, the nothingness, and beyond all rational perception all he felt was desolation… Desolation and oblivion. The fiery sensation passed away, leaving only the cold.The harsh wind seemed to cut into his bones, slicing through his skin, raking at his veins with icy fingers. Great emptiness overtook the arcanist, and his legs gave in. His eyes opened, but his vision was blurred and hazy, shapes and forms came to invade his addled mind. But he rejected them, shakily maintaining himself on his knees. He felt his senses burning and boiling as great energies rushed through his weak mortal shell.He collapsed backwards against the bleak stone, gasping for breath as he tossed and turned in his temporary madness. Sweat began to bead on his forehead, and outwardly his hysteria ridden eyes were stretched wide.
Moments later he came to his senses. He was coughing violently, laying prone on his back. He let his vision clear, focusing on the stars and constellations above as he reoriented himself with the world around him. He tasted blood in his mouth, and he realized that he had coughed some of it up, leaning up he retrieved a handkerchief from one of his coat pockets.Frantically mopping up the sweat and the blood he was overtaken by another fit of coughing, he coughed into his hand.After removing his hand from his face he peered at the blood which had settled there with distaste in his features.
At that moment, the blood which had been clinging to his person separated from saliva and perspiration, sinking beneath his garments and into the mans body as the arcanist continued his desperate bid to keep his person intact. He felt more coughing coming on, and he reached desperately into a internal pocket in his jacket. Taking a flask of some unknown liquid and refreshing himself from it deeply. He wiped his lips with the handkerchief, staring up into the sky with bloodshot eyes. He had siphoned too much energy, his weak mortal shell straining to keep itself together. So he laid back, staring into the nether as he let his besieged body regenerate from its perils. He could not go on like this… He needed a way out…
Marladeus Salis. Mortique is a arcanist who practices his craft with a dangerous fervor, having little regard for the sanctity of his soul he throws himself to the darkest of magics with ever-growing abandon. He currently finds employment among the Blackwind Collective, though this allegiance is merely profit-based and in the long-term they mean little to him. Despite his dark past, and rotten interior, Mortique is usually very polite and pleasant to those he comes in contact with, if he likes them or deems them useful. His outwardly demeanor could be described as that of an individual with a feline disposition.
He currently resides in a little camp in one of the many veils of Deadwind Pass, he travels quite a bit...Usually seen in Duskwood which is close to his camp, or even stalking the wilds of the Shattered Realm of Outland. He also spends a fair bit of time in the city, but he usually only goes there for supplies he cannot acquire anywhere else, or if he wishes to find some company. He currently is occupied with trying to spread his influence, all caught-up in the rat race.
Appearance[]
Marladeus has a lithe form, only defined by a little muscle. He is by no means out of shape, but it is clear he is not one who has done an arduous amount of physical labor lately. Despite the lack of significant muscle he has broad shoulders, and a thick neck. Marladeus’s slightly tanned skin is mostly unmarked, by scars or anything else of note. He does have a tattoo scribed onto his back depicting a burning celtic knot pentagram, the flames coloured black trailed up his back, a few of the dark licks of flame contouring onto his shoulders. This maeking is completely covered by his usual attire.
He has a slightly thin face with high cheekbones and a square jawline. His eyes are a deep flickering green, and the eyebrows which top them thick colored a slightly darker hue than his slightly curled long honey-colored hair which falls about the sides of his face. He sports a modest goatee which is barely noticeable, the spares golden hairs clinging and blending with the angular features of his face.
Attire[]
Mortique adorns several varying garments, largely depending on the function that he currently serves, or his mood. Typically, he is clad in practical cloth gear which does not do much to allude to his calling. Though, It is not uncommon for him to “summon” more suitable attire in the heat of battle if need be.
“Spellblade” Adventuring Gear[]
Mortique typically wears a long traveling coat of a blue hue, the garment is usually accompanied by a pair of dull grey trousers, and blue leather boots. He wears a belt which holds a large piece of tainted purple quartz behind the golden clasp. His gloves, which would appear to be simply made of white silk, are seemingly stained at the tips of each finger with a deep indigo color. This odd clothing is usually worn when Mortique travels abroad, or wanders the city. He favors it for its practicality above all else.
“Nether Afflicted” Battle Gear[]
Often “summoned” during battles, or other times when Mortique channels a lot of dark energies, Mortique’s battle gear is suited more to protection and enhancement of spell-channeling than discretion and practicality. While adorning this mixed bundle of enchanted cloths and metals, Mortique’s aura of nethermancy is usually more evident. Several gems of different colors are set into the shifting landscape of grays and purples that make up his attire. Any who possessed a aptitude for the arcane could likely sense the nether essence imbued directly into the weave.
“Pale Doctor” Battle Gear[]
Often seen when the arcanist wanders Duskwood or Deadwind pass, this ghostly array of garments would likely unsettle most. It is comprised of a pale white face-mask which usually conceals the lower part of his face, or is pulled down to rest around his neck. He wears white robes which are trimmed with a subtle lime green, they would be immaculate and eerily perfect if it was not for the fact that the hem of the robes is torn and ripped. Usually while adorning these garments his aura of nether energy is heavily warded, for some unknown reason...
Personality[]
Charming and pleasant might be the words the average person might find to describe Mortique. One might conclude further and claim him to be sly, fickle, adaptive, and regal, possessing the primary attributes and failings of a feline. He maintains himself in a outwardly dignified way, but it seems he has a sense of humor, and a sometimes brutal will to apply it when it is unwanted, as he takes great pleasures in antagonizing those he deems worthy of scorn.
Under the thin veil of politeness, and pleasantry...Mortique is deprived of happiness. He has few friends who see him in his true state. Deeply troubled the arcanist constantly struggles with ethical conundrums, fretting about the past and the future excessively. He has a deep lust for power, and an iron will to accomplish his goals… But beyond that even, he is deeply fatalistic, and he wishes more often than one would suspect that he could go back on past choices.
Beliefs[]
A man of dubious moral standing, Mortique has disavowed any faith he once held in the light long ago. For a time he saw himself as one of the pagan worshipers of the Gilnean Old Ways, but as his childhood waned, and as he wandered the streets he lost even this peculiar tradition, though it might be noted that he still has sympathies which lean towards it. Since then he has also rejected the objective morality commonly based on religious doctrine, instead his skewed perception of the world sees very few things as 'wrong'... Though he finds himself disgusted at unnecessary acts of cruelty, but the lengths to which he will go for his own means are excessive, bordering on insane.
Items of Interest[]
Mortique’s inventory is primarily taken up by necessities, tomes, or various magical essences and other reagents relevant to spellcraft. But there are a few items which stand out among his possessions, many hold a place in his history...
Kirin’Tor Dagger[]
This beautifully crafted steel dagger is often found at Mortique’s belt, or in one of his satchels. The intricate dirk is kept in prime condition and oiled and sharpened often, pointing to Mortiques appreciation for the item. Adorning the guard a finely cut piece of blue topaz can be found, on further examination several discrete lines which formed the crest of the Kirin’tor could be seen, several more engravings of arcane runes can be seen on the pommel. This item has been with Mortique for a very long time, and it is one of his most treasured.
Pale Feline Effigy[]
This odd figurine seems to be of a fine make, its smooth surface is shaped into a vague feline form resembling something of a housecat. On close inspection it becomes evident that the figurine is composed of some sort of bone, though the intricacy of the carving would throw many off this conclusion. Set in the eye sockets of the bone cat two flecks of gleaming diamond can be found, glowing like pale stars in any light they could find. He usually keeps this item in the confines of his coat, if it has any special magical importance only its maker Kazstraa knows.
Bone-Link Chain[]
Wound around the upper part of Mortique’s arm, and concealed by his clothing a intricate chain of some indescribable bone can be found. The chains several pale links are painstakingly warped into a shape suitable for such a construct. Placed under the stress of magical scrutiny, the several links of the chain would reveal a darker purpose; it is likely that any who are versed in demonology would know the item to be a special object of binding likely crafted by a warlock with greater power than Mortique. Currently, this item is missing from Mortique's person, but he still has access to its whereabouts.
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Tome of Lost Hallows[]
Often found on his person is a excessively large tome which chronicles many ancient rites and traditions pertaining to the Eastern Kingdoms. Though the text contains information about more harmless and accepted traditions such as the Old Ways (gilnean paganism), it also speaks of darker crafts, such as atal'hakkar worship, and perversions of the Emerald Dream. Recently, this text has led Mortique on several excursions into the dark forests of Duskwood.
Crystal Focusing Lense[]
This ebon foci has recently been gifted to Mortique following his new partnership with the Gravekeeper Nierdris. The worgen gave Mortique little explanation about the purpose of this instrument, and Mortique has had little time to study it himself.
The Blue Hat[]
One piece of his clothing seems to hold special respect with the arcanist. His starkly blue hat is often with him, and it is counted among some of his oldest possessions. The item in truth has some sentimental value to him.