Your Story.

[Swgrclan 2682]

I am the Deathstalker of the Black Sun, fleshless and faithless. I am called many names, for my age spans back toward the broiling of the old four kindred, but one is often used, sparsely known as it is; Vor'kalan. It is a name forged in antediluvian eras, and it's steel had been honed by the test of time; by the rage of flames, by the crack of lightning, by hatred of betrayers and thieves of what I had claimed in life. My dogmas have been shaped over countless times, for I endure a cycle unending; my reawakening in the first realm led me to prowl Aegis' now-charred landscape, to claim the lives of others to satiate a rage I could not understand - coining the title of "Demon" upon my shoulders, and it was a heavy burden to bear. In my travels, I have met many, felled others, and allied with some; but with the passage of fate, most had fallen to the grip of death, as I had long before. Only do so few of those I barely trust remain in this realm afflicted the the abyssal plight of an ancient fury now returned.

I had brought life to a bloodline born from blood, fear and death - I had conditioned my descendants to mimic my own misguided ways, but in the end they fell to this unending exodus' brutalities, and only one of my blood remains, accursed and wretched much like I; though a dissenter in the eyes of the divines, much greater than what I ever could achieve. When my quest to produce veritable clones had dulled in the passing of years, I had taken to the terrorization of an Orc, Thral'mar, with magic I cannot recall to possess his mind with a faltering darkness. It was then I made pacts and bonds with others -- Sheekah, Salamandra, and those who still survive; even Lucas Black, and one named Faeyin whom, in life, I cherished despite my mind-clouding fury, but could not protect in the end. The machinations of pre-history of endless notable figures took place before my very eyes, and one such example would be of Urir, whom I bore a conflict with over the right of Faeyin's hand, where in the end I fell to his greater strength; and it was with great dismay that I took notice to the dawn of the accursed Doomforged, dwarves of blackened skin and Ireheart strength, with Faeyin as their first mother. To seek Urir for veangence was futile, for he sacrificed himself to banish the Undead upon the final day of Aegis, where the paragon's actions cast a grim fate across the land and reduced it to darkness in the fury of the rising Daemon.

My flesh grew cold and stiff with death in the second age, whence I descended into a madness that led me to the worship of the Fallen One whom had been defeated merely decades before. My assumed final rest had come when I initiated a battle I could not win within the Cloud Temple; too blinded by the frustration in my search for Faeyin in the second land, and thus succumbed to a great plummeting fall that concluded with my demise upon rock-hard ice and frosty water. But fate had planned greater things for me, and thus I was raised by the Gravelord Chrodraeros and his necromancers in this present age as a Deathstalker, first of my kind, and born in the image of the grand Wraiths of the covenant, but alas, held back with the physical coil of bones and armor; bones so familiar to me, but with no flesh to grant me the ability to truly feel anymore. I now trek across this accursed land, having found both Urir as a madman and betrayer who allegedly hails under the Daemon - a fated chance to challenge him once more - and Faeyin, who equally became as insane as I in the turn of ages. I have seen the progenitor of endless histories pass before my eyes, and I see them repeat in a cycle born again -- a cycle we mere mortals are entrenched within forever, as long as the divines allow it.

I am Vor'kalan, and this is my Lord of the Craft.

[Travista 1361]

Shreck scratches the back of his head as he tries to remember his life story...

"Ubbbbb..... mi lib en a swump?"

[Moot 1719]

This is a long one, I bet I went far over the limit. I felt in the writing mood, so here you go.

I am Kalameet, The Masked, The Spider and The Blind.

I began my life as a lost and misguided child, as many do. For unknown reasons, I was left by my parents, and wandered as an orphan. As most children do, I found those who were overjoyed to have found a child to call their own. I had adorned myself with a mask which was made from the bark of a tree. I grew to adore masks, and jealous of the expressions they possessed. I had eventually learned to read, and write. As a High elf, I’m exceptionally adept at such things a literature, and learning. I was enthralled in studies of the world around me.  But as the world gives, the world will always take away, and thus I was once more left to guide myself. And so I wandered, continuing to find those who had cherished my bright mind, and kind nature. But alas, the cycle continued. As I gained, it would quickly be snatched away.

I continued to harden and stiffen with every blow the world would make to me. Peasantry and poverty overtook me. I had lost myself, and that of which made me a kind spirit. When I was most broken and empty, I began to find those who would be tempted to use me for their own gain. I was taught to fight, and dual those I was told too. I was taught to smith weaponry, and to build physique. With these new found skills I forged myself a new mask, and thus has adorned a mask of metal. However, as a child I do as I’m told, and that of which I’m told is truth. I eventually took to murder, and dastardly deeds. I maimed, scolded, scarred, and bloodied those who I was told too. I listened, without complaint, or question. But as the world turned, it continued to take away those I cherished.

But amidst the chaos of my life, I had met someone I grew to cherish. A young blind girl, of which I quickly fell in love with. She was kind, and could not see the monster I had become. We soon become involved, and just as I began to feel imminent joy, those who had guided me demanded that I left her. Who was I, a mere child, to deny my guardian? Months had passed, and I had eventually proved my worth to those I called my Guardians. I was placed in a pit with four others, and we were ordered to fight, and so we did. I stood the victor, above three bloodied, broken corpses. The last was allowed to live, as he was clearly shaken and too frightened to continue. As a reward for my victory, I was given the chance to learn magic under a Lich, who had given me a choice of several kinds of magic. I had chosen Illusion, and so I learned. After several years, my Guardians fell or scattered to the winds, again leaving me with no one.

As an elf, I was deep in my teenager years when I was finally given freedom. I was no longer a defenceless child, which lead me all over the lands. I explored and learned, and continued my training with Illusion. After many years of such a life, I grew curious of my race, and people. I ventured to the Elven lands, and requested entrance to the Silver City. I was offered the Silver Trials to prove my purity, as my pure blood didn’t dictate my pure mind. I completed my trials, and lived in the city for many years to come, in which I met a new women who I had grew to adore and love. We had married, and I had two beautiful children, twin girls. In all my life, I had never adored anything as much as my beautiful girls… However, as the world gives, it will always take away. Orcs had raided and pillaged the Silver City during my prolonged absence. I returned to my burning home, my wife and children brutally murdered…

So I left the City, and decided I would never grow to cherish anyone ever again. I began to repeat a phrase, making sure to never forget, “Emotion breeds attachment, attachment is weakness. Do not fall victim again...”. My heart grew dark, and I returned to my ways of old. Years had passed, and I eventually met a young elven woman. She taught me of faith, and how to help others. I began to heal others, opting to try and redeem myself. With these new found abilities, my mental state healed, and I began to feel emotion like I never had before. I moved closer to this woman, finding residence in Malinor. The state of the city shocked me, and with my new found good will, I sought to help the people of Malinor. With such a corrupt Government, I had to find a way of providing assistance, without causing chaos, and so myself and several others created the Conclave of Malin. I built a city, and created homes for those who were homeless to live in. I began speaking with pinnacle figures in the Malinorian Government to join me in creating a better home for the Elven people.

However, as my story has shown, all good things must come to an end. The Princess of Malinor had decided to challenged me, threatening my people and their homes. The anger and hatred that once boiled within me once more came to surface, and so much like a spider, I weaved webs of alliances, spies, and lies. I gained the Favor of the Oren King, and gained his aid. Together, we struck down Malinor with force, and had the city burned to the ground. So the Conclave became what I sought it too, the better Elven Nation. However, I missed my home. I missed my culture and people. For the Malinorian Elves were not those of pure blood, or mind. I became distraught and home sick, and at the very pinnacle of the chaos raging in my mind, the gods had left me. I found myself atop a mountain, a beast of tendrils and dark held me in his grasp. He punctured my soul, and infected me with something that would forever scar my soul. He tossed me from the mountain, and I plummeted to what I thought would be my death.

I had awoken, a being of dark, and chaos. I slowly gained strength, my mind forever haunted by whispers of dark and evil. I gained followers, and I became that of which I once followed. I eventually infected my own brood of Shades, and commanded them to do my own bidding. I spun webs of shadow, and deceit. I had whispered in the ear of Kalenz, and sought to aid his goals. I had foiled plots, and those who sought to overthrow Kalenz. It was soon that I gained hold of my sanity, and knew it was close to taking control of me. Even though I had wished to never get close to anyone, such things are inevitable. I had decided what had to be done, for if evil cannot see, it cannot destroy those I care for. I carved out my own eyes, taking away the sight from myself and my Shade. So I now sit, my mind forever at war with itself, waiting for the day I may eventually find freedom in my own mind.

I am Kalameet, The Masked, The Spider, The Blind, and this is my Lord Of The Craft.

[Heff 2460]

I am Fumble Willowbottom. Once the adopted child of the village elder, insignifigant and carefree, I now am the Mayor of the Halflings. I organize great festivals and events, smoke, drink, and party all the time. I live in the peaceful village of Gimblewood, centered in the hilly Dale. I have become experienced in halfling folk lore and in making plenty of friends! I maintain the peace with my shovel alongisde the Sherriff Thimble. Unlike most races in Athera, mine is one of peace and happiness. We value shovels over blades and ale over shields. But do not double cross or threaten us, you'll get a shovel up your arse! 

[Delrof 381]

My name is Ragnar Fáolain.. or the Wild Wolf if you want, and this is my Lord of the Craft story. I was born off the Northern Coast of Anthos, following the 'Pagan' culture with my Father, my Mother had already passed. I was born with the name Ragnar Warnek, I've learned to fight from the age of 3, when I was 12, a group of Oren Zealots raided my Homeland, killing everyone inside including my father. I was lucky to escape..

At the age of 17 I arrived at the Fringe, I joined the Stoneguard Auxillary for a while with a deep hatred of Oren. When I was still young and Naive I made the stupid decision to join the White Fang because I had interest in a Girl. Eventually I married her, and had a Child, The White Fang had disbanded and I was left as a Commandant of Atgaards 'Red Stallion' Guard force.

Eventually we moved out of there too, following Baden all the while, while we were with Baden, my daughter Runa passed away from a Fever, it ruined me.

 

When we arrived at the Thales, I grew sick of Baden and his Kins pacifistic ways, I grew angry and tired, I was then attacked by his.. whatever she was, They almost killed me while I was off guard, I left Baden in anger. 

I went to establish my own keep atop a Hillside area somewhere.. I called it Lochwind Keep, I lived there in Solitary for a while.

As we left for Athera I met a man who would later change my life, his name was Thórvárdr Fáoláin, he was a Northerner like myself, we got on very well,  and I agreed to live with him and his kin, to return to my 'Pagan' way of life.. The more I was with them the more they felt like Brothers until I was accepted as a true brother to them, and I became Ragnar Fáoláin.

 

(Tried to keep it to 200 words but Ragnars FULL proper history is around 3,7k words..)

[Eetswa 422]

I am Gauldrim Irongut, old and seasoned Dwarf. Born in Asulon and son to Morkas Irongut, I prospered after being sent away by my grandfather Hiebe Irongut to learn from the Elves. Under the guidance of an elderly alchemist named Erestor, I grew very serious about my work as an alchemist and I still hold pride today in my knowledge. I used my young legs to journey, meeting Humans, Elves and Orcs along the way. I was a head of the Arcane Delvers and I worked alongside other great mages and alchemists. 
A mage, practicing for over two-hundred years I was is one of the first to use electric evocation ever. Founder of the Dwarven Alchemy Guild alongside Kardel Irongut, I worked diligently alongside my older cousin and as a pair we achieved great things. The author of multiple books about Alchemy, Magic and Adventuring. After the boats landed from Kalos on Anthos I acted as one of the leading diplomats for the Dwarve's using my knowledge of Elvish and Human customs. I am an experienced healer and I worked as a battle-field medic during the Dwarf Human War of Anthos. I am currently living out my days, at the old age of four-hundred and sixty seasons or so drinking, gambling and singing my merry old way to the grave. 
- Gauldrim Irongut

[Fimlin 1997]

((Completly unorganized splat of thoughts and history, if more detail is needs then you know who to call.))

I am Fimlin Grandaxe, father to 7 of his own children and fathered himself by Gortek Grandaxe. His story begins in Anthos, in Kal'Azgoth, where he joins the legion and fights in the first oren-dwarf war, aswell as seeing the rise of Setharian and the reign of Thorin Grandaxe. eventually he moves from Kal'Azgoth to Kal'Ithrun, there he continues his work in the legion and eventually becomes an Ironbreaker, while fighting in the second dwarf-Oren war. After Bazian Grandaxe, the high Remembrancer, departs Fimlin replaces him and writes many books for the dwarven library. Since his birth he desired to become a dwarven Lord, though each oppurtunity that there was the King had his mind set elsewhere, until Wulfgar Grandaxe arose to the seat of Grand King, and granted him Lord upon the resignation of Farren Starbreaker. Fimlin served in the position for 3 more Grand Kings after Wulfgar's resignation, and eventually lost the position after he signed Midgor Ireheart's revised articles, which eliminated The Lord position. Fimlin then became the first Thane of the Grandaxe clan under the new articles, and weeks later the 4th dwarf-Oren war ended, Fimlin having fought in all 4 of the wars. Upon moving from Thales to Athera, Fimlin immediately persists on using this oppurtunity to let the Grandaxe clan thrive, and for a time it worked, until him and the elders decided to make a hold. The hold at first was a thought that most held with enthusiasm and it prospered during the first stone days, but then declined after the lack of planning and working from the builders who were in charge. They quickly lost motivation, and working dwarves and so they moved back to the Capitol. However during there time in the hold they learned the Grand King, Midgor Ireheart was not pleased and threatened to take over their hold with force, and one day during a clan council meeting 4/5 of the Thanes vote to remove Midgor from power, and hold an election. In this election Lathros Oilbeard, Grunmin Starbreaker, and Fimlin himself vied for the position, the elections ending with Fimlin holding majority. Upon his own rise to power he immediately set on trying to improve city buildings such as the tavern and patching up holes in the revised articles of Midgor. He ventured into the Kal'Varak along with his kin, and lead them to an ancient dwarven city far to the north. There they blockaded the door and only allowed those with keys to bypass them, and after days of waiting they finally are able to get all the keys in place, and the doors swing open. Later in that stone day, is the day that Khorvad, or Iblees is yet again realeased into the world, and his minions begin to gather again. Urir Ireheart, a Paragon had returned by then, only to succumb to the curse of te Nether and become undead himself. Later on a dwarf named Dared Silverfinger was shanked by another dwarf, he took that as a reason to form his own kingdom, and his clan breaks in half, the ones followings Dared are branded Silverfingers. When he ordered Dared be brought to trial more dwarves followed Dared, and then the remnant of the Ironborn clan took over for him, and with the help of the undead the Ironborn take over the Capitol city, and Fimlin leads the inhabitants to the Irongut hold of Hiebenhall, leaving Kal'Agnar nearly empty.

That was Fimlin and he is the true lord of the craft

[ThumperJack 927]

I'm Norik Grandaxe, Mountain Druid, Father, and friend to many. The Lord of the Craft started for me back in the Fringe, where I wandered the land, seeking adventure. I eventually quit the practice since, the land wasn't large enough for me to wander without seeing the same things over and over again. So I settled down just outside Kal'Arkon, where, I discovered my roots as a Grandaxe. I finished my clan trials, escalated the ranks of the dwarven legion till I stopped at Ironbreaker. I fought in the Human-dwarf war, or, what I prefer to call 'The Daily war'. I retired from the legion and became a dedicant, where learned of the Druidic arts. I survived the Khorvad's Plague, but I had nightmares of it forever on. After the mysterious move to Thales, I built a new home and spent more time with the Sun Elves than my own race. One day, I was at the very new Raine Academy, and a caught a teenage Dark elf girl watching me, she was exhausted and malnourished, and I found out, homeless. I took her in, adopted her, and Dhaunae became my pride and joy. I fell in love with a human woman, who was possessed by a men killing demon. But I loved the woman, not the demon, but I couldn't save her and I went into a depression. I got over it, but I got more nightmares that never ended. After the move to Athera, I finished my dedicancy and became The Mountain Druid. I, sadly, went mad from grief when my daughter disappeared and the nightmares worsened. I was in my close friend Beth's room when I woke from another Madness attack. I told her I was a danger to those around me. I drew my sword, and ended my pain.

 

((Its not flowy, I know. :())

[Knox213 10]

my name is knox, and i'm an alcoholic who puts milk first into his coffee to sober up in the morning.

[Parkins 550]

        My name was Nicholas. I started out with my family, my mother, my father, and my brother. We were not poor, and lived well, or so you would think if you were not part of the family. Inside, I could see the truth of our family. My mother and father, hated me. My brother, always the successful one, better than me in fighting.. politics.. better than me with women.. intellect.. luck.. love, animals, family, survival, life!... I have had enough. I left my mother and father, under the guise of helping my brother. We left for Athera.. and created a small city. After some time, I grew tired of my brothers idiocy.. his stupidity.. so I killed him. I left on the search for power.. the hunger that has.. overcome my all. I found the Adherents of Immortui.. a grouping of Dread Lords, Ghouls, Wights, Ghosts.. Necromancers.. They accepted me as one of them.. they have been teaching me.. I learn more and more as time goes on.. They now call me Ger'Veran.. and I have accepted this new life. My past means nothing.. the future everything..  and soon, I shall grow powerful enough to help the Adherents.. in their crusade against the living..

 

But first.. we must take care of that meddling Ibless.

 

I am Ger'Veran, and this is MY Lord of the Craft.

[Guest]

"I am known as Martin Winter, third-born son to Robert Winter II. and Elsie Blackwell. The date of my birth was and forever will be the 18th of the Grand Harvest, 1460. And as for my birthplace: Castle Tantallon, Kaldonia, Capital of the Imperium Tertius of Oren near to the end of Emperor Peter Chivay's reign. Needless to say my childhood was sickly. I was prone to becoming bed-ridden with illness and fevers. Rarely was it that I was outside to interact with my peers to my heart's content. Reflecting at it now, 'tis a wonder I've survived. My grander memories lie in the Order of the Flaming Rose, the successor to the most pristine militant order of mankind-- the White Rose. 'Twas there I learned the rudiments of the sword and the crossbow, alongside the making of true bonds betwixt God's chosen. Time came for House Winter to focus their goals elsewhere, when the Rose wilted. To be short and concise, I will say that my kin reside now in Aesterwald, and are reunified. But is this who I am supposed to be? There are many distractions plaguing mine own mind, some I've succumbed to and others I constantly debate with myself about. Soon I will need to provide a deciding answer. Soon.

 

I am Martin Winter, and this is my Lord of the Craft."

[Corndoggeh 9]

I live in a wolf age and a wind age, in which no man will spare another. My father used to tell me about the undead when he was among the White Ravens in Aegis when I was only a beardling. He told me the world was touched by evil in the way a snake slithers through the tall grass of a field. How even some of most righteous can succumb to evil and blind those who follow them as I clearly remember the image of a ragged scar that crawled along his lower chest. His try at creating peace among people was fruitless; evil nipped at his back at every chance.

    I and my kin knew these stories, and if it is not the undead we would eventually face as my father had told, it will be fellow men on the battlefield or in our homes. I, along with my brothers and sisters had set sail for the ocean to the mainland, seeking to mend what my father could not. This is where we set upon Icy shores and split into two, the others were to seek an very old friend of my father with a lame eye and overalls by the name of Emberhard. While I along with two of my brothers, Kilgirn and Torgrim, gathered our share of belongings and headed for the Dwarven Capital.
    My father never told me my they would leave me behind in the city in search of their own land to claim.

    My father never told me I would bleed for this city at the hands of these "Ironborns"

...Or that the undead DID return

    Casted away in defeat and agony aching at my flesh with what remnants I had left, a     shamed son cursing at the gods like a mad man.

But my father never told me this...

That I would befriend the dwarven king.

    That I would be forging the same armor for the king's rising army that my father did so     for the White Ravens against the undead the first time.

    I started this journey with my brothers and sisters, hope and courage in my heart but my father never told me this...

That I would be making this journey alone...

I am Morik Cladheart, son of Barias Cladheart and fellow brother to Kilgirn, Torgrim, Dwin, Aesa, and Aetta, and this is MY Lord of the Craft

[Wolf Druid Ouity 1461]

After the first war they called me Deathsbane. The Wolf. I am Ouity, Heirophant of the Druidic Order. I waged war in the frozen fields of Aegis, far to the north of any warm hearth. Against Iblees, my comrades and I fought tooth and limb, an alliance of all Races... until Aegis was brimstone and fire beneath our feet; until they laid low our kings and heroes. Until our cities were smothered in miasma and decay.. 

 

I watched my home burn to ashes.

 

Now I stand aloof, having achieved what no other man has for centuries before me, and what no man shall achieve for centuries to come. I have watched the wheels of fate turn, I have seen the Races enact their destiny. I have watched the lightning rain like water from the sky, and I have charged through without heed. I have battled gods and outlived nations. I serve my Order, collecting secrets, serving as a conduit for Nature's power so that when I am needed; when power is needed, I can stand as a beacon of the Aspects' wrath. None defy my judgement. Those who stand against me are worn away by the sands of time. Those who stand with me are immortalized by it.

 

I am Ouity Deathsbane. This is my Lord of the Craft.

[CountJuno88 230]

They say that memories can fade with time. They say that the chaos cannot bind us. They are fools to think these things. Ages come and go and life spins itself anew. What was once certainty becomes clouded with doubt when revelations from beyond the grave step into the light. I thought I walked the path of righteousness as a founder of the United Aegis Coalition. I was assured that I was acting justly as a Sage of the Ascended. I watched my pupils sacrifice themselves in order to foil the plans of Iblees and his minions. I shed tears for each of them, but knew they were not shed in vain. Then the Immortals proved that I knew nothing and my world was shattered.

Everything I loved is gone and not even death can bring me solace, but still I hope for tomorrow and search for that which shall bring freedom and peace to all mortals. Gazardiael be damned. I shan't be a puppet to the Immortals' whims. Let the Age of Mortals come. I shall welcome it.

I am Martin Benedict and this is my Lord of the Craft.

[Dromui 755]

I am Skale, impure high elf who lost himself to the darkness for decades. Born before the exodus from Aegis, I lost my parents during the journey to Asulon. Scared and alone in this world, I was unsure where to go or what to do. I found myself in the clutches of a Mali'ker family. At first, I thought myself to be a slave of said family, but I soon realized they adopted me into their strange family. My new elder brother, an elf known as Azel Bloodseeker taught me the ways of the blade, training me to defend myself and become a ranger, defender of the wilds. Though I spent over a century with my brother, even after my exile from the Bloodseeker clan, I lost myself and fell into evil. Defeat after defeat, humiliation after humiliation led me to stray away from the path of an honorable ranger, and instead take up the art of magic.

 

At first, it was simple experimentation. Within the realm of Anthos I began studying fire evocation, as I've long been interested in the fire that kept thousands upon thousands alive. But sadly, that minor experimentation led to a lust for power, and that lust led to envy and greed for those who had more power than I. The delve into magic eventually became more of a curse, as I lost control. I sold my soul to the spirit Ikuras; joining his cult, gaining the power of phobism as a reward. I grew and grew in power, mastering the magic and becoming one of his four horseman before I grew bored. My lust for dark power led even further, until I took on the shade parasite. For years the likes of Lucas Black had warned me, pushed me away from the power I so desired, but I did not listen. At first, I was overjoyed by the darkness I had accepted within me. I became the caster of an age old power. I soon opened my eyes to the reality that was the shade. Screams of torment and pain tore at my mind, stealing away sleep and emotion, turning me into something I was not. When the parasite was stolen from me, I felt empty and alone. But after some time, free from the grasp of the dark creature, I found that I was not meant for the darkness, that Skale was not meant to be a villain. 

 

That emptiness eventually faded away, leaving something that had not been felt for decades; hope and happiness. True happiness. I realized that I could do good, become something better than a dark arts user, something more than a mindless cultist that worked to darken our world. These revelations led to the giving up of my magic and the training to heal my body through both physical and mental exercises. I found my way to Lyuin Avern, also known as Isaac Baelish. He opened my eyes to the ways of Taharie and since, I've become an acolyte. I aspire to become a full fledged Cleric and possibly more in the future.

 

I am Skale Asul'ker and this is my Lord of the Craft.