Name: Jeremiah Vericoft, The Despoiler
Age: 38 years old.
Languages: Common, Orcish(From time with the twilight cults), Nazja(From his time assisting Naga), Nerubian, Qiraj, Faceless(Only under very certain circumstances when he no longer has control over himself, he speaks in tongues and cannot remember any of it after the fact.).
Class: Warlock (Old gods)
Faction: The Eternal Spiral
Alignment: Fluctuates, Normally Flutters between both Lawful and Chaotic Evil, though there are times when he drifts towards Chaotic Neutral.
Likes: Writing, reading, experimentation, cooking, painting, alchemy, enchantment, experimentation, zaftig shapes.
Dislikes: The Old Gods, his paranoia and fear, the torrent of magic flowing through his body that threatens to completely consume what is left of his sanity.
Instability is the best way to describe Jeremiah. With a tenuous grasp on reality at best at this point, he has grown into a paranoid, vindictive, desperate man. While he is prone to violent outbursts or periods of complete regression, he is not anti-social by any means. He can be quite talkative and enjoys the company of any race or creed. He is almost desperate for any sort of social interaction he can find, yet those he can normally be found around only tip the scales further in his mind.
The more he uses his power though, the more self-control begins to slip from his hands. He feels the whispers grow stronger and tempt his desperation, goading him to more and more vile acts. During the times he has become completely lost, he treats others as things for his own amusement and a horrid level of sadism begins to take over. This has become more and more of a common occurrence with him lately.
Jeremiah is a man of average height of 5’9” and a broader build than average, weighing roughly 210lbs from his own constant need for survival. His skin has a strange, grey hue from the violent, warping magic he commands on a regular basis within his experimentation. Long brown hair hangs past his shoulders, normally uncombed unless he has to present himself to others who prefer a more visually appealing ally, and it has been prematurely greying for the past 7 years from the constant stress of his work and the wars. His face was moderately handsome, though held several scars across the right side of it, with a square jawline and full features, normally with several days of stubble from a lack of personal upkeep. His entire body is covered in scars that seem to have been cause not by any sword, claw or fire, but by things ripping through flesh from the inside.
Most clothing he wears tends to be very weather beaten, yet in its own twisted way, alive. It is crafted from the rubbery flesh of the faceless, stained dark grey from the ashes of those he had sacrificed to the old gods, with bits of bones from various sacrifices hanging from the gloves and belt of it. He normally wears a hood and a strange, featureless mask made of blackened clay to hide his face from view. One key note is that it is very rare for anyone to see any of this man’s skin do to the warping that occurs within the man.
When he uses his magic too often, or when he spends too much time around the more horrible creations of the old gods, his body begins to mutate, with eyes and mouths randomly forming and retracting upon his body, as well chains that begin to rip from his flesh each capped with bloody hooks.
Eidetic Memory: Jeremiah has a photographic memory, able to recount experiences, sights or information. This has assisted him greatly ever since it first showed itself to him, letting him memorize papers or books and rewrite them for the cults as needed.
Endurance: His tendency to travel by foot, having to deal with constantly releasing or using his magic, and the pain he has endured in combat and torture has boosted this man’s endurance greatly over the years.
Magic: His use of magic is similar to that of a warlock, but is fueled by the forces wielded by the old god’s forces rather than those of the Burning Legion. They have a corruptive, warping effect on the spells he has learned how manifest, and allowing him more freedom to twist his magic as he sees fit.
Gift of Languages: Do to Jeremiah’s eidetic memory, he has a very easy time picking up on languages as long as he either has someone teaching him the languages or some source to base his research off of.
High Pain Tolerance: Years of experiencing the vivid memories of others own torture has taken its toll on the ‘diplomat’ than most realized, pushing far beyond his sanity. His own halucinations have tortured his flesh as well, tormenting him to a point that he has developed a very high tolerance for pain. He has be tortured by the infinitely creative whims of the lords of madness, how could an arrow, arc of flames or a whip even compare?
Water Breathing: A blessing given to him by one of the naga’s he had assisted over the years. He has the permanent ability to breath underwater.
Eidetic Memory: This blessing is also a horrible curse, allowing him to remember every experience he has had, causing him to occasionally have flashbacks trigger from current events or experiences. He experiences physical and mental pain from these memories, only to cause him to find different things to try to overwhelm those sensations. There are points where he simply regresses completely and stares off into nothing, locked inside his own mind.
Fear: To say he fears the old god’s is an understatement. He would sooner try to neuter Sargeras himself with his bare hands than he would face the true images of the destroyers of reality. He had seen only a fraction of their nightmarish magnificence and that has completely warped his mind in ways that frighten even the most depraved of the Twilight’s Hammer. All fear abilities used by the creations of the old gods(Qiraj, Faceless Ones, Krakens, etc.) are extremely effective against him. Fellow followers of the old gods also can affect him with fear abilities a bit easier than most, but they have a slight chance of inducing a fight or flight mechanic that is deeply buried in his mind. He also treats the favored of the old gods with extreme respect and does what he can to assist them.
Hallucinations: This is partly because of his own shattered sanity, causing him to see and hear things that no one else can. Unfortunately, do to his warping magics and his own blighted presence on reality, these hallucinations can physically affect him. No one else can notice or interact with these hallucinations, though they can see what they do to him. This has done wonders for his paranoia.
Vulnerability: Do to the unstable magics that he wields and the strange oddities contained within his body, Jeremiah becomes more vulnerable to nature magic the more he uses his magical power and the further he mutates.
Sanity: His mind is almost a constantly sliding scale of control. There are times that he simply seems like an overly eager person with questionable taste in clothing, and other times he is nothing more than a physical vessel for the horrid power within him. He regresses into an almost catatonic state at times, or begins to flee from things only he can see. As the years have gone on, he has begun to develop a sadistic streak to him.
Misplaced Loyalty: While he can be a hypocrite and slaughter his own low ranking cultists when his sanity slips, or if he needs to use them in a sacrifice or as fodder, he is unwilling to simply sacrifice those that have earned their way in his eyes. Jeremiah is willing to go out of his way to assist those he considers his friends, regardless of if they feel the same. This also stems from his need for any way to socialize and companionship, though in many instances, this same loyalty is not returned, pushing him into incredibly violent rages.
Jeremiah Vericoft, now known as The Despoiler, is now whispered within groupings of the cultists who madly follow the old gods in both envy and pity. He has become a vessel of violent magic’s and visions of madness, wielding both as one would the arcane or fel magics that others more commonly use. He craves a sense of belonging in what he does and the companionship of others, yet in his own crippling fears has only surrounded himself with the absolute worse Azeroth and beyond has to offer. There is very little of the person he used to be years ago, having been forced to endure torture, psychic torment, and memories that flood him that are not even his own, shaping him into the physically and mentally unstable person he is today.
The birth of a gateway
Born to a loving couple, Joshua and Marle Vericoft, he was brought into a healthy, if simple lifestyle. They owned a butcher shop in Tiristfal Glads before the Horde first showed themselves upon Azeroth, living near the northern western portion of the land. They treated their son very well, teaching him of their trade and giving him everything they could. Several years after he was born, they gave birth to fraternal twin girls, Vanessa and Theresa. No one knew that his parents had been cultist to the Burning Legion, subtly trying to act as messengers to other cultists who happened to show up for their cuts of meat.
As a young child, he was fascinated with the sea, and played there whenever he could, wandering off between chores to do so. Even as the wars raged on, his family kept themselves secluded away in their farming community to try to keep their family far from the harms of war, having their son keep an eye on his sisters as they were forced to communicate with other cultists directly at times. Still, the children seemed almost ignorant to what was going on. At the age of 10, his life changed
Without any reasoning, while he was playing in the waters in the north, the stray resonance of the old gods, communicating with the creatures they have created, struck the boy, sending him into an almost catatonic state. He had been forced to endure a horrible memories of those who had been tortured by the old gods whims, experience every sensation over and over again in the span of just a few seconds, and that was enough to cause his mind to almost completely shut down, only having enough to cover his basic functions. His father found him when he did not come home for dinner and brought him home immediately. They tried using any remedies they could, even attempting to beg for blessings of the Legion to try to bring their child back to reality, though nothing worked on the unresponsive boy. It took nearly 30 hours until he finally broke free from the state, as if nothing had happened at all. He was scarred from what he saw in his coma like state, yet he hid it well from his family, as the whispers told him that they wouldn’t believe him.
The pain was not without its own blessings, expanding mind’s own abilities of memory and problem solving, granting him an almost photographic memory. He began to learn through leaps and bounds and was even offered a few years of schooling when his family could afford to spend the money to do so, allowing him to rapidly learn how to read and write. He even used this to teach his family how to do so as well, his sisters taking to it a bit easier than his parents.
A change of pace
By the age of 16, his parents finally revealed their own allegiance, and attempted to induct their son and daughters into it in one of the vilest ways possible. They used what little fel magic they knew to lock their children in the home with them with only enough water to survive a week. They told Jeremiah that there was a book in the house that had the ritual him and his sisters had to preform, and the only way they could live is if they killed their parents through this ritual. His sister’s both began to panic, not for love of their parents, but in desperation, the thought of dying scaring them. It was through this that Jeremiah actually decided to go through with it. He opened the book and went to work.
Over the course of three days, the trio began to slowly torture their parents, being careful not letting them bleed to death before upon the third night, they were strung up like pigs and their throats were slit and bled out into waiting bowls. Both sisters needed to drink the blood to allow the fel locks on the doors and windows to weaken, and with that, their humanity left with them. Both sisters became hopelessly devoted to the Legion and began devour their parents as the only source of food left in the house. Jeremiah chose to starve as the two of them gorged themselves until they were fit to rupture like a morbid, gore-filled balloon when finally the locks faded. At this point the whispers returned to him saying his parents lied, they took his siblings’ innocence away, and he needed to run with them so no one could find out.
Without any other guidance to go on, he took what the three of them could carry and left, using whatever coins and valuables he could leave the area, doing whatever it took to survive. He traveled constantly with his two siblings, occasionally stopping to do what he could to earn enough money for room and board before leaving for the next settlement. The three of them stole, murdered and even worse to try to survive, all the while worse and worse thing began to show up in his visions. His two sisters began to show more and more signs of fel influence, taking an odd sheen to their skin while beginning to show a natural sign of sorcery, forcing him to have a harder time covering their tracks as both girls became more open with their downfall into the demonic. It was when his sisters wished to pursue a darker path with their brother that last last bits of the boy he used to be dissolved into chaos.
The Slippery Slope
Once Jeremiah was twenty one, on his sisters 19th birthday, they found themselves in Theramore and soon lead to the splintering of the family. Something was beginning to urge him to the south, to look search for something. Theresa claimed she felt a draw to the north, while Vanessa wished to stay in Theramore. It was after they said their final goodbyes that he caught sight of a woman in the distance, and something pricking in the back of his mind told him to follow her. With the subtle encouragement, he began to stalk her day to day life throughout the city, forcing him to stay for the time being.
The woman in his eyes was of his ideals, she was tall and very rubenesque, seeming to live her life as a baker. Her hair was long and a light shade of chestnut, normal held in a bun as she dressed in simple attire. While he wished to speak to her, he found himself unable to even vocalize. Still, whenever she had seen him, she would smile and blush before returning to her day to day tasks. Every night he spent hidden away in the attic of her home so he could always be near.
He woke one morning to find her standing over him, with that same blushing smile on her face yet she never spoke, instead she beckoned him to follow her. She brought him to her room as she dressed and began to pack things before she guided him outside of the city and into the outside world once more. Vanessa had begged him to stay, claiming she worried for his fragile sanity, yet he ignored her pleas. The only thing that mattered at this point was this woman. It took three full days of walking before she even spoke her name. Larivika.
As they continued onward, he began to show signs of magic flowing through him, and she did the Larivika did the best she could to encourage her lover to explore it. Even though the results of his attempts of controlling the strange energies horrified him, she simply smiled and urged him more. She goaded him to hunt creatures with the magic and to butcher them for their food for the day, only teasing him when Jeremiah seemed to sicken at the thought of consuming the flesh he had just recently blighted into something unrecognizable.
Years went on as they traveled, quickly finding themselves blessed with three children, whom he named Josh, Marle, and Beatrice, and each seemed to thrive on the open road. His hunting of beasts soon turned into murdering travelers for their things, just to be able to keep his growing family in what Larivika wished. The energies in his body began to twist him further, and on the occasional times that he needed overwork himself, he could feel things moving just beneath his flesh as eyes and mouths occasionally ripped through his skin. His family seemed oblivious to the changes, making him wonder if mutations that showed themselves occasionally were nothing more than a trick from his shattered mind.
It wasn’t until he was 30, with a stronger command over the strange things that flowed through his body that he found himself in Silithis, year 27 where a small grouping of the Twilight’s Hammer cult were beginning to gather. They began to attack him, in which he began to violently assault them with every ounce of strength he had to defend his lover and children. Their flesh warped and consumed itself while others began to attack one another and seven of their number died as his body began to mutate moreso than normal. Rusted chains tore from his flesh, each capped with a horrid, serrated hook, and he began to stagger, weakened from the changes and finally he was driven to the ground from the mages of the cult. Before he finally blacked out he spit out threats of violence if they touched his family. The leader of the group looked at him confused, and simply stated one thing that haunts him just as horribly as the brutal sacrifice of his parents and the opening of his mind at ten.
“Who are you talking about?”
Sewing my eyes shut to see.
He woke in chains and was questioned heavily by the leader, a man whose name was never learned, asking him where he learned his magic and where he was from. Jeremiah answered occasional, always demanding where Larivika and his children were. His blood was drawn, tested with sorcery, and never once did they answer the questions of their prisoner. He caught glimpses of his family, his children playing in the camp, or his dear Larivika sitting beside him, offering a gentle caress. It was at this point that he finally realized the horrible truth. His chosen mate, his children.
They were not real.
He could hear them laughing at him. It wasn’t mocking though. It was the kind you here after a funny joke.
It was at this point that he finally gave up. He explained everything he could to the Twilight Hammer, hoping they would kill him as he realized that nearly ten years of his life was nothing more than a complex hallucination. It was at this point they watched him in utter confusion as he seemed to be attacked periodically by an invisible force. Flesh opened as if cut by a knife, bones cracked as if hit by a hammer as whatever blessed him with that fleeting dream was now breaking his body. He was kept as a prisoner for three years, finding torturing him was unneeded do to whatever haunted him seemed to be doing the job for them. It was at this point he was accepted into the cult as a member, and soon what secrets they had of the eldritch prisoners beneath the surface of the world were revealed to him. He took to the training with the hopes that something about his past would be explained to him.
He was there when the horde and alliance prepared for the assault on the Gates of Ahn’Qiraj, and took it upon himself to take several members of the camp back to the eastern kingdoms in an attempt to gather artifacts that could be useful to their goals. This helped Jeremiah survive the wars that both the Alliance and the Horde waged against the Qiraj, and also indulged in cannibalism when the whispers of his “family” goaded him to eat his allies and steal their works. He remained hidden in jungles of Stranglethorn Vale, where he first was introduced to the Naga. He took the time to learn their language from whatever scraps of information he could and introduced himself to them, almost dying in the process until he offered his services to them in return for anything they could teach him.
He spent years with the Naga, assisting them with assaults upon coastal groups and retaking locations they deemed fit, and they even used their own magics to grant him gills along his neck and chest, granting him the ability to breath underwater with him. Time eventually dragged him away from the Naga as he was forced to head northward, guided by the whispers and hallucinations once more. He was desperate to return to those living dreams. He gathered whatever tools he could, creating focuses to contain excess magic that built within him, using them to barter for safe passage across the continent until finally he brought himself to Khaz Modan, to where he found the Twilight Highlands.
The Return to Twilight
A new sense of purpose pushed Jeremiah to return to the group who had taught him a few desperate slivers of knowledge he craved. That need for a sense of belonging drove him into the cult once more as he offered them all of the visions he had seen and knowledge he had gathered over time, and assisted in the corruption of dragon eggs for the group. He soaked in everything he was allowed to know, and even furthered newer, yet more unstable experiments upon prisoners they had gathered, using it as an excuse to understand the magic within him. He remained loyal even as the the Bastion of Twilight began to fall when Cho’gall was killed and Sinestra was driven into the lavas she dwelled within. It wasn’t until after it all collapsed that he decided he had a new purpose.
He gathered a few members with him and ransacked what he could of the libraries and left the rest of the cult to fend for themselves as he began to travel all across Azeroth for any allies he could. He travelled to Northrend and searched for any Nerubians he could whom were crazed enough to follow the old gods, he returned to Silithus to try to convince what Qiraj were left to gather, and even drifted to outlands, to hunt for any to join him. In the end he formed a new group, The Eternal Spiral, as a backup plan to if the cult failed in unleashing the old gods from their prisons. They would not be as overt as the Twilight Hammer, but their presence would be felt. He left the leadership to a council that would be better suited than he as he returned to his experimentations, feeling a sense of belonging once more that helps him forget the lies his mind plays with him. He does return when needed, and eagerly performs whatever tasks they need, thought even the council feels as if he might simply be a ticking time bomb as he slides more and more into a delusional state, speaking to nothing at all and his mood swings become more violent.
Only time will tell as he continues to be guided by the ethereal touch of his madness.
This is my first try at a character to play here, and I might be a little rusty on the lore. I intend to try to play him as a necessary evil. Any input over the history, the nature, or general details will be appreciated.