Rise of the twilight shadow (story+in depth bio)

[stalling]

Note: This will be the new Bio for my character. If the mods could please lock the old thread that would be great
Done, and done!
~Maddy

So before we dive into the story I feel many of you didn't read my Bio becuase it was terribly organized and a bit TL;DR.
Here is an updated version.

Name: Skylar Montferret/Strider.
Age: 17
Gender: Male.
Race: Human, enhanced by the old gods.
Class: Cultist/rogue.

Personality:
The above mentioned character suffers from split personality disorder.
Personality A: Skylar
Psychopathic, murderous and relentless are just a few words to describe this individual. Trained from a Young age to be a killer this young man has been brainwashed by the Twilight's Hammer. A true fanatic, he views all non believers as vermin. Due to his "Gifts" he is naturally cocky, Extremely intense and intimidating, this is someone who gets what he wants. Skylar is notorious for his short temper, anyone who annoys him is usually found dead.

Personality B: Strider.
A victim of amnesia, Strider is unassuming and passive most of the time, but tries to project the icy-cold persona of his alter ego to strangers, this does not always work though. Until recently He did not know who he was, assuming his fathers nickname this character is extremely unstable. Because his instinct to kill is so strong he often harms people he does not intend to, a simple hand on his shoulder will result in a broken neck, a pat on the back and you will wind up with two broken legs and and bruised ribs. To be short, he does not like to be touched.
However, despite the fact he is extremely distrusting and for the most part a loner, once he gets to know a person he is very friendly, in his own way. Going to extremes to protect his friends and innocents.


Appearance:
Still a youngster, Skylar stands at 5'10", with a solid, athletic build he could pass as an Olympic gymnast in our world. Not caring for looks he wears simple dark brown pants, and a plain chain-mail shirt over a black top. with a purple bandanna to conceal his face and a pair of well made boots he prefers functionality to looks.
At his side are two Saronite daggers: a gift, if you will, from his masters. He has short, but spiked brown hair with a slight purple taint and a large scar running from behind his right ear, down his neck and crossing his chest, to the bottom of his left Pectoral major.
As strider he tucks the Bandanna into his backpocket, people who know this can easily spot which persona is in control.

Weaknesses.
As Strider he suffers from immense headaches, a side effect from suppressing his true identity. His fighting style, while deadly and effective, lacks discipline. He prefers to Go for the throat right out of the corner, even if it gases him. His memory loss and and the fact he does not know the full extent of his powers do not do him any favors either.
As Skylar His only real weakness would be his lack of armor, his overconfidence, and his blind faith.

Skylar's "Gifts" are as follows:
His bones have been enforced, and in some cases completely replaced, by saronite. This increases His weight tenfold.
His muscle density, or his overall strength, has been over-tuned to compensate for his weight, and then some...
With this improved strength comes agility, despite his weight he can preform complex and extremely fast aerobic stunts.
His reaction time has been increased to the point of it bordering premonition. He heals rapidly, not like Deadpool or Wolverine: it's not instant and he can die. But a knife wound won't finish him.
He can channel the power of his masters, Often manifesting itself as an intense purple fire that can consume almost everything.
A trained killer, the second he enters a room he searches passively for possible exit routs, then identifies and assesses every possible threat. He extremely suspicious and always with at least 1 hand near the hilt of one of his daggers. A certified genius he has a complex understanding of physics and vectors, his knowledge of combat is almost unmatched and with his physical advantages he has the upper hand in most fights. He thinks very critically, in action his mind is clear, he acts on instinct with a constant guard and a solid counter attack.


Strider's Likes and dislikes:
Low lit, quiet spaces where he can sit and think, but due to the general lack of such areas in Azeroth he is content with the company of someone he trusts and some good conversation. His favorite food would have to be seasoned chicken, and seeing as he does not drink alcohol, he has nothing but water at all times. His dislikes are overly rambunctious people (due to the fact that he constantly gets headaches) and to that length bright lights are not something he appreciates. He HATES the taste of any alcohol and does not like to be touched by anyone.

Bio:
What you need to know:
around the events of day of the dragon.
Skylar Montferret was the son of Magnolia and Bartson "strider" Montferret, both mid-ranking covert members of the twighlight hammer. On his 1st birthday a twighlight agent came to their cottage just outside of Lakeshire. The stranger demanded that in the name of the great ones they give him their son so that he may carry out their gods will. Bartson, being a strong believer immediately agreed. But Magnolia, a loving mother resisted. The argument between the three broke down into a struggle in which magnolia was brutally killed. Bartson and the agent tossed her body into the lake. Then the stranger left, taking Skylar with him.
At a young age Skylar was cared for by the twilight's hammer like any other child would be, but from the age of six, he was trained to fight. This carried on until he was 16, he was taken in-front of Cho'gall himself and put under an enchanted coma. For an entire year enchantments were woven upon him making him stronger, quicker, increasing reaction time and transforming his bones into metal, he was also given power: power given to Cho'gall and his followers by C'thun himself. Now, dispatched where c'thun has ordered, Skylar is ready to fulfill his destiny, to be in the right place at the right time, to do what he believes to be right but in actuality what he only thinks it to be. to bring about the revenge of the gods. But something is wrong! he can't remember anything before he was put into the coma...


As far as Strider knows:
just prior to the events of patch 3.1
He awoke in the burning steps, 2 1/2 miles from black-rock mountain, not knowing his name, where he is or why. Barefoot and with only the rags on his back he managed to make it to Morgan's vigil without incident. There he managed to "convince" the gryphon master to take him to the nearest alliance stronghold: Lakeshire.
In Lakeshire he was confronted by a suspicious Deputy Feldon, a big mistake. Feldon remarked that he looked familiar, calling him "strider". He even went far as to attempt to bring him back to the inn, where he could further question him. As he placed his hand on Strider's shoulder something snapped and out of instinct he reached around and broke the deputies hand, unsheathing the crippled mans sword and slicing his throat as he stepped through his open stance, walking out of the counter attack with momentum. Dorin Songblade, the armorer, having watched the whole episode play out ran towards strider, obviously meaning to attack. Not knowing what else to do, strider- still holding the sword, smashed the butt of the hilt against the dwarfs forehead sending him flying back into his stall and dislodging most of his wares from the wall behind him.
It was at this point that strider saw the daggers, those beautiful curved daggers! They must have fallen from the wall! Like a magpie and still buzzing with adrenalin he walked towards the wrecked stall and took them. As he stood up and started to admire them he heard a scuffle and the sound of someone running away, another merchant - who undoubtedly saw the whole thing - running towards the town hall. Thinking fast strider changed into the best cloths he could find, a black shirt-some light amour and a pair of boots that fitted perfectly, balanced just right, and obviously expensive: they must have been meant for the captain of the guard. Now armed and clothed, but with no idea what to do next, he started heading out of Redrige mountains towards Elwynn forest, towards Goldshire.
He was last seen at the Eastvale logging camp where he killed two men, injured 4 more and managed to make off with a horse...


Chapter one will be up shortly.

---------- Post added 2010-06-28 at 01:11 AM ----------

While I finish up with CH1 heres a bit of art so you get a better idea of what Skylar looks like:



---------- Post added 2010-06-28 at 01:47 AM ----------

CHAPTER ONE: Blood in The stable.
Though word of his crimes have not reached the ears of those in the settlement his mere appearance and attitude to the friendly smiles greeting him as he walked further into the encampment communicated one thing. trouble.
Still in "kill mode" after his little scuffle at Lakeridge, Strider, now decently armed had one goal in mind, Get a horse and make it to the nearest city and find a priest or doctor that could help him remember.
Thats why he had stopped at Eastvale Logging camp.

"Hold it right there, boy."
He kept walking.
"Hey RUNT I'm talking to you!"
The guard had accelerated to a light jog to catch up with strider, getting round in front of him, blocking his way.
"Move" said strider, his hands itching for the daggers behind his shirt, daggers that the guard had not noticed yet...
"What business do you have here then?"
"I said move."
The guard was taken aback, he had never been talked to this way by a youngster.
"There a problem here Bert?" said an approaching guard, with 2 more following him.
"This boy needs to learn his place" said Bert in an amused voice.
"Stolen something has he?" A smirk playing across the second guards face.
No helmets, thought strider, good.
"Na, just needs to know to respect his elders."
A third guard reached for his club. "So we gonna stand here or we gonna have some fun boys?" he said.
At the sight of the club Strider's mind went into overdrive, it was like he could see into the future. He could tell that the armed guard was going to swing for his knees while Bert would go for his shoulders and attempt to push him to the ground, where kicks from the rest would be expected.
He acted first.
Everything was a blur, his actions, his reactions: it was so easy to make them hurt.
Strike after strike he pummeled burt into the dirt with his bare hands. Sodging the mace wielders attack and spinning around so that he was adjacent to the recovering man, he raised hes knee and snapped his leg forward into his nose.
The guard flew backwards, into a building, creating a plethora of rubble. Still conscious, He began to scream in agony, his back clearly broken.
two down
A quick slash, starting at the mid chest and through to the stomach dispatched the third, and a simple puch left the final man twitching on the ground.
Four targets. all neutralized. none dead.
The man who he had cut would live, he had narrowly missed the intestines but made a point to twist his dagger as he pulled it out, maximum pain.
Walking away strider tucked his daggers back under the chainmail, and continued along to the stables.
As he entered through the side enterance he could immediatly tell that this was no mere stable. The horses kept here were all huge, well groumed and muscular, the one closest to him was easily twice his hight!
These were warhorses.
As he opened a gate to inspect one of the stalions he felt four tiny spikes press against his back, a pitchfork.
"stand away from the horse, hands where I can see them!"
"I dont want to hurt anyone else, I just need a horse", said Strider.
The man holding the pitchfork was old, possibly in his late sixties, there was another man with him, only a few years Strider's elder.
"Are you MAD! These horses are our lively-hood! king Varian Himself rides only the finest we produce! They sell for thousands of gold each!"
"Then loosing one wont affect your, lively-hood, will it?"
"Father!", said the second man "be careful he's armed!"
Strider looked down, one of his daggers was poking out of his shirt, he must be more careful in the future...
"Last chance, step away or I WILL make you."
"That would be unwise." Sighed The youth.
The man swung wildley at his midsection, Strider hit the ground, rolling under his attack and coming up behind him, but he had turned already, and slashed at striders neck this time.
This man is good! thought strider, starting to panic a little.
Behind him, he could hear the sound of a sword being drawn and the light rustling of someone changing thier wieght distribution.
He sidestepped, the sword narrowly missing him, running the older man through the hart.
"Father!" yelped the second man, but he was already dead.
"Apologies, you would have killed me had I not moved."
The son swang around, pure anger in his eyes. He charged blindly at strider, swinging for the neck. Strider span around the man, bringing his daggers up as one as he moved past the attackers torso and plunging them into his back, severing his spinal cord.
The man fell to the floor, dead before he hit it.
For a while strider just stood there.
what have I done? they were just farmers!
He could feel something swelling up inside him, sadness? no-
He vommited, barley missing the corpse of the son. It was the best he could do not to get it on his own clothes.
Without a second thought he saddled the horse he was originally looking at and rode out of the camp. He had already forgot their faces...

Comments/complaints/suggestions?

---------- Post added 2010-06-28 at 02:30 AM ----------

CHAPTER TWO: The Twilight Path.
He was still ahead of any messenger that could be sent from lakeshire or Eastvale to the marshal, about two days. That meant two days until they start hunting him.
Until they got here, if he kept his head down this time, he could walk around freely.

This town was to loud.
So much movement and light, all the music from the inn and the rustle and bustle of people going about their daily business. Children playing by the pond and the blacksmith making no effort to stifle his hammers clangs. All he wanted was some peace and quiet. Somewhere in the distance he heard a yelp of a dog- no a wolf, some poacher must have gotten a big score.

He had ditched the great horse about a mile away from the town, so not to arrive in an overzealous fashion. But even now he was getting funny looks people backing away from him as he walked through The crowd of people in on the main street towards the inn.
"Something on you're mind stranger?"
Strider almost killed the man he span around so fast, Luckilly the place so crowded the only person who saw his intention was his would-be victim.

His fist a centimeter from the elderly mans nose, strider checked his stance, controlled his breathing and brought his heart rate down to normal. The man just stood there.
"I...I was wondering if I could buy you a drink son, you look lost..."
"Wha- no, I do not want a drink, go away."
"You sure you look thirsty... Strider."
He grabbed the man by the front of his shirt and dragged him to a side room, unnoticed by the other patrons.
Once inside he lifted him up against the wall, still holding onto his shirt, pressing his knuckle against the mans windpipe, enough pressure so that it hurt, but he could still talk.
"What did you say to me?" he said in his best menacing voice, tilting his head down to check his daggers were still concealed, then moving only his eyes to watch the man.
"your name you bloody fool, don't you remember it? or me for that matter?"
"I dont rememeber anything..."
"Then why are you here?"
"I'm trying to find a priest."
The man started laughing manically, strider pressed his fist further into the his throat, stifleing the outbreak.
"Whats so funny?"
"The fact that you think a priest can help you", he said still managing to chuckle through the pain.
Strider set him down, but kept a firm hand on the mans shirt.
"Explain" he growled again in his most menacing voice.
"You can stop the act boy, I know who you are and I don't fear death. killing me before you hear what I have to say would be a mistake."
"Then say what you have to say old man, before I change my mind"
"Young fool", muttered the elderly man. "You are on this planet for one reason, to carry out the will of those who would see this world... changed."
"Changed?"
"don't worry about it, your job is to facilitate this change, not enjoy its benefits. That is only for the true believers!"
"Believers of what?"
"The Twilight Path."
"The what?"
"The path that only the true worshipers of the ancient ones follow, the path that leads to paradise after death."
"you're mad!"
"Perhaps, but everything you do, everything you say is for a reason strider, your destiny was foretold 300 000 years ago!"
by now Strider had let go of the man and was sitting at an empty table, rubbing his temples.

He was so confused, why would anyone do this to him- who is he? Who are these, ones who would see the world changed?
Something didn't feel right about this, something in the pit of his stomach was telling him to get the hell out of this room, as far away from this man as Possible.
"The old gods will see that you complete you're journey young strider, all you have to do is play into their hands."

At this the old man brushed himself off and walked towards the roaring fireplace in the corner of the room. He took one last look at strider, smiled- a smile that sent shivers down the rogues back, and stepped into the flames. As they consumed the man strider could hear chanting, the sounds, the word formations, they seamed familiar... But he couldn't quite put his finger on them. Then, suddenly, the old man was gone.
Disappeared.
No ashes.
Nothing.

What the hell is going on? he thought as he walked towards the fireplace to get a better look. Just then two people burst into the room, a man, perhaps in his mid twenties and a woman, far older than that. Hanging off of each other, they both carring large drinks, the man also had a massive bag of coins straped to his belt.
They were clearly looking for privacy.

"I...I was just leaving" Said strider. Then he checked himself, put back on his emotinal guard and walked past the couple and out the room. But not before snagging the coin bag on his way out.
As he made his way towards the bar he recieved more funny looks.
What is it? he thought, is it the way I look?

He reached the bar and was greeted by a large portly man. Wearing fine silk clothes, he had a double chin and small beaddy eyes.
"What'll it be son?" He bellowed so that strider could hear him over the crowd, this did not help things as the young rogue was starting to get an inteanse headache.
"Water."
"You sure? on a fine friday afternoon like today? how bout something for the big boys eh? well just say you looked-" His smile faded momentarily as he got a proper look at Strider's face. But just as fast as it had gone, it was back. "Eighteen! ha!"
"Water" he said again, more firmly this time.
The smile on the mans face didn't fade again, but his eyes went cold. Then he spotted the coin bag, and they lit up again.
With greed.
"Ten gold peices then lad!"
"What?"
"Ten gold, come on the pay up or be off with yeh!"
"Its water..."
"Yeah but with the inflation of the economy, and all those rare ores coming back from Northrend, the value of a coin isn't what it used to be. A mans gotta make a living!"
Strider's Face remained neutral, he could tell the man was starting to sweat.
"What with all the cobalt, titansteal, saronite coming down its a wonder people do-"
"What did you say?"
"What? The minerals?"
"Yes, something about saroa-"
"Saronite, comes from all over the great north! Huge value, great for armor! They say its actually the frozen blood of an old god!"
"A what?"
"An old god, didn't yer parents ever tell you any fairy tales?"
"I never knew my parents" said strider, wishing not to tell this repulsive man anything about himself.

"The winds shall blow and the ocean shall swell.
The punsihment for using the well.
The old gods shall come again.
And when they do it will be the end of all men."

Strider just stood there.
the old gods.
They were real?
His headache was getting worse, the band playing music picked up a new tune and he thought he was going to vomit.
"Yeh paying then lad?"
"Wha- yes. here how much for a room as well?"
The mans eyes lit up even further.
"Well yeh look lost, so I'll cut ya a deal, for the rest of the coin in that bag, I'll let you have the finest suit in the inn!"
Strider blinked, there must have been over 700 gold in that bag!
Was the inflation really that bad?
He didn't care anymore, he just had to get out of this noise.
"Fine, here" he tossed the bag on the counter and grabbed his water.
"Upstairs, third door on the left." Said the large man throwing him a set of keys.
As strider made his way towards the stairwell he could here the bartenders loud voice booming in the kitchen.
"We got ourself another chump boys! look at all this gold!"
When he opened the door to his room he was taken aback.
If this was the finest the inn had to offer then he was the champion of Stormwind.
champion of stormwind, he thought, where did that come from?
No matter, strider went over to the small cot that was supposed to pass for a bed and collapsed in it.
The bed in turn collapsed as well.
Strider didn't care, he was already asleep.

[stalling]

Chapter three: Game over.

It was night in Lakeshire, the Montferret cottage was quiet, it was time for evening prayers.
Bartson knelt at the alter alongside his wife, both of them wearing their ceremonial robes.
purple light played across the secret room they had made, just for worship.
"may the ancient wisdom guide us through the twilight path and-
-KNOCK- -KNOCK-
magnolia was the first to react.
"quick we must change, put out those candles!"
It took them mear seconds to change, stifle the incense and reconceal the room they occupied, a routine they had practiced rigorously.
"is it the guards again?" whispered magnolia to her husband
"n-no it's well. I don't know, he is showing the sign of the enlightened."
"A fellow believer? let him in!"
The stranger holding up the twilight charm stepped through the door, dressed in dark purple with a tattoo running from behind his right ear to below the neck line of his robe. He walked past the couple and seated himself at their table without invitation.
"excuse me?"
"you are excused Bartson"
"who are you?" demanded magnolia.
"my name is Dareth Tutour, prime envoy to Cho'gal"
Both man and wife stood in shock for a few seconds, Bartson was the first to break the silence. Getting on one knee he kept his eyes on the ground "apologies my lord!"
magnolia quickly followed suit:
"is there anything we can get you? food? water?"
"yes there is something I need from you" Dareth said with a smirk.
the two lovers waited with baited breath.
"your son."

Robert smith was the fastest, it was that simple.
He had been woken up from his room in the inn at Lakeridge and told to take an urgent message to General Marcus Jonathan. Barely given enough time to Saddle thunderbolt, his horse, he grabbed the note handed to him by a guard and sped off to stormwind.
Cut through the forest, past Goldshire. Don't stop for anything.

As Strider walked out of the inn, refreshed for the day ahead of him he decided to inspect his daggers for the first time since he had picked them up.

walking down a path heading north-west he drew his right weapon and held it so the blade point was pressed against his thumb, and the hilt against the index finger of his other hand.

About 8 inches long, the blade was made of a black metal, It curved slightley to one side, and had a strange inscription on one side, curious- there was no sign of the blood of the men he killed the day before.

Sheathing the weapon, he thought he could hear rustling in the bushes off the side of the road. But as he continued five men stepped out of the shadows off the path.

"Mighty fine blades you got there, boy" said one.
"Know how to use those things?" asked another, chuckling.

They were all wearing red bandannas, dressed in leather armor. The one who had spoke first, clearly the leader was the shortest, of the group standing at no less than 6"4'.
"I'm not in the mood." Strider replied as he continued walking, laughing the five men jogged to keep up, each drawing thier weapons. The leader grabbed Striders soilder.

Game over.

He spun, forcing the hand off of him, aiming a kick at his torso. The man flew backwards and hit a tree, a boot shape inprint on his cheast, he didnt move.
Yelling, another man charged at him, weilding two daggers he slashed wildely at Striders neck.
As the daggers came close to his addams apple, the boy ducked, leaving the attack to do nothing but move air.The man continued moving, falling over Striders body and landing with his face in the dirt. Standing there wit a smirk the youth felt something, A tingle, a twitch.
Look to your left.
Time stopped.
As Striders eyes began to move to the left he caught a shadow coming into his field of vision, he started to turn his body.
As his head came around, he began to raise his arms, his fingures began to curl.
Now facing the object coming his way, his hands halfway there, Strider registered what it was.
An arrow.
It rocketed its way towards him, his hands came up, and as they closed the tip passed inbetween them, his hands came together and he simply stood there.
The tip of the arrow a centimeter away from his nose, he held the shaft between his hands.
The four men gasped, taken aback by his feat of speed.
"GET HIM!" yelled one of them.
Dropping the arrow Strider drew his weapons and smiled.
Time to play.

[stalling]

matt was bored.
he had been on patroll all day, walking casually down the road to goldshire, checking bushes, waving at women and children as he passed.
but it was so dull
ever since he had gotten back from the front at valgarde after getting an arrow through his leg he had been given the most mundane jobs.
it was like they think i cant do anything right he thought as he adjusted his sheaths harness.
he continued down the path keeping to himself, but soon he came to a point in the road where he was completely alone.
strange, this is supposed to be the busiest road in the eastern kingdoms
he kept walking but after a few steps he stopped dead in his tracks.
what had he just heard?
it sounded like someone crying for help!


editing and and more to come in a bit, just wanted to get this down.