Post by inarill on Jan 24, 2008 1:36:05 GMT -5
Long ago in a time before men, a time when power did not come from social status or the largest fighting force. A time where the gods held power. They kept the demons at bay and the beasts in the woods.
Upon the tallest peak of Azeroth he sat, Champion to the gods. One of the few, who fought the greatest of threats to the gods and the people of Azeroth. The Hydra, Earthborn Kings now known as the Naga, Paropets, all creatures that would terrorize the villages and ships, but the creatures would only last for a short time. They would even hold gladiator contests to hone there skills and strengthen there body's. The Champions seemed immortal, from victory after victory. How ever they were not like other beings, the Gods granted them one advantage over all other races, they allowed the Champions to travle fast, and surprise their enemys from unexpected angles. Wings extending from there shoulder blades allowed them to strike fast and powerfully.
Then one day on top of the highest peak they could feel something, a shadow seemed to have fallen across the lands of Azeroth.
The Scourge, they spread across the continents like wild fires, only not so easily extinguished.
All attempts made to douse the spreading shadow were all in vain, no matter how hard the Champions fought it was all to no anvil. For every scourge killed two more would rise to take the place of the plague infested corpse.
It had become apparent that this tyrant could not be defeated...
In a final act of desperation the Gods, fearing the scourge would soon reach the mountain, hid it. One day the great mountain sank into the ocean, leaving a giant whorl pool in its place so no one would dare venture there. With them they took all signs of there existence, All but the Champions. But not wanting overly powerful beings in the lands unsupervised stripped the Champions of there wings, stuck to the ground forever.
Soon the races began to quarrel, and chaos broke lose, the arrival of the Humans only increased the scourges progress as the humans fell and became living corpses.
The Champions went into hiding aiding where they could, waiting for an opportunity to strike a fatal blow upon the scourge. Since, many of the champions were lost, lost in battle and lost of mind, only few are still out there... somewhere.
The once hallowed Champions have been forgotten.
So Inarill waits, dreaming of once agin being able to look down upon the land from a view expirenced by no others... Once one of the most respected Champions, now no more than a spec of dust on the window sill of Azeroth.
He will wait untill the time is right and the story of the Champions finnaly be retold.
DESCRIPTION:
Inarill had an 8 foot wing span giving him a total of 6 limbs, they were gray with jet black streaks throughout the feathers. witch often gave him an erie look, causing some people to greatly fear him. To be able to fly they had hollow bones and larger lungs that allowed them to breath the thinner air.
In many of the more isolated areas there were rumors about him stealing peoples souls and replacing it with that of a demons.
Upon the tallest peak of Azeroth he sat, Champion to the gods. One of the few, who fought the greatest of threats to the gods and the people of Azeroth. The Hydra, Earthborn Kings now known as the Naga, Paropets, all creatures that would terrorize the villages and ships, but the creatures would only last for a short time. They would even hold gladiator contests to hone there skills and strengthen there body's. The Champions seemed immortal, from victory after victory. How ever they were not like other beings, the Gods granted them one advantage over all other races, they allowed the Champions to travle fast, and surprise their enemys from unexpected angles. Wings extending from there shoulder blades allowed them to strike fast and powerfully.
Then one day on top of the highest peak they could feel something, a shadow seemed to have fallen across the lands of Azeroth.
The Scourge, they spread across the continents like wild fires, only not so easily extinguished.
All attempts made to douse the spreading shadow were all in vain, no matter how hard the Champions fought it was all to no anvil. For every scourge killed two more would rise to take the place of the plague infested corpse.
It had become apparent that this tyrant could not be defeated...
In a final act of desperation the Gods, fearing the scourge would soon reach the mountain, hid it. One day the great mountain sank into the ocean, leaving a giant whorl pool in its place so no one would dare venture there. With them they took all signs of there existence, All but the Champions. But not wanting overly powerful beings in the lands unsupervised stripped the Champions of there wings, stuck to the ground forever.
Soon the races began to quarrel, and chaos broke lose, the arrival of the Humans only increased the scourges progress as the humans fell and became living corpses.
The Champions went into hiding aiding where they could, waiting for an opportunity to strike a fatal blow upon the scourge. Since, many of the champions were lost, lost in battle and lost of mind, only few are still out there... somewhere.
The once hallowed Champions have been forgotten.
So Inarill waits, dreaming of once agin being able to look down upon the land from a view expirenced by no others... Once one of the most respected Champions, now no more than a spec of dust on the window sill of Azeroth.
He will wait untill the time is right and the story of the Champions finnaly be retold.
DESCRIPTION:
Inarill had an 8 foot wing span giving him a total of 6 limbs, they were gray with jet black streaks throughout the feathers. witch often gave him an erie look, causing some people to greatly fear him. To be able to fly they had hollow bones and larger lungs that allowed them to breath the thinner air.
In many of the more isolated areas there were rumors about him stealing peoples souls and replacing it with that of a demons.
