Delalken the Legend of the Battlefield

Title History

Role

Chapter 4

Born as the son of the former Squire Shadrist Shockwave Holdfast, 'Del'
as he became known throughout the community of Loch Terradin was always
far more zealous and carefree by comparison to his stern father. Raised
and indoctorinated into the tenants of valour, of courage, of honesty
and compassion; he always had his own thoughts and questioned a good
deal of what his peers would simply inherently adopt. His time growing
up on the calm waters of the lake would be spent in more solitude then
those he would call a friend, a bit of loner, always thinking...

Thus upon his 115th birthday he was given a choice by his father, either
to serve as he did in the ranks of the royal guard of Loch Terradin and
perhaps eventually as a Squire to the Holy Brigade or to choose a darker
and more dangerous route of treading and finding his own truth. The son
of a once distinguished soldier to the Holy Brigade of the Phoenix, 'Del'
now sets off on his own task, to learn and see the world and to find his
own meaning and place in it.

Role

Chapter 3

Deciding to first take sometime to learn the splendor and wonder of the
forge under the Master Smiths of Akan, 'Del' spent two years enduring and
shaping metal to bend and mold it as he saw fit. From the very get-go 'Del'
knew his time as a smith was simply a brief learning process, he sought to
role + learn to forge his own weaponry one day, to do so, he and the forge would
need to become one. This is when the Lord Thror HammerSong took shape in
his mind as one day he glimpsed upon the great shrine nestled into the
rockface of the great eastern mountains.

Within the depths of his mind, swirled this image...

Encircled by wizards on small plateau's which hang on all sides of this
jagged valley, a absolutely titanic blue-skinned giant is surrounded on
all sides by the incessant, booming arcane chanting. Spiking into the
air to form as a great apex, a surging bolt of light combines as the
wizards enchant there energy into a single attack.

-FLASH, FLASH, FLASH-

The visage repeats itself regularly, the outcome never has come to the
young giant, after speaking at length with the Smiths of the Noldarian
Forge, it became evident to the giant... he was bloodbonded to the late
disciples of the Bloody Tear of Storm-Mace... and so... destined to bear
the burden of the pact sworn by his ancestors so many years ago. He marches
on Thera now in search of the bond and pact, in search of Magi to destroy,
in search of the understanding that the Doom and Salvation of Thera fall
hand-in-hand with Magic being gone forever.

Role

Chapter 2

Torrential rainfall descends from a pitch-black, night sky to innunduate the
relatively muddy, well-worn road which this blue-skinned behemoth scales with
an uncanny swiftness for one so large. Blinding most ordinary men, this beast
seems entirely at ease despite the poor weather, as though he were actually
unhindered in the slightest despite galeforce winds and lashing rain colliding
into his every movement. As quickly as he has descended down the road so too
does he suddenly curve to his right, skirting down a path shrouded by looming
trees which leads into a forested, broad valley and dried streambed set at it's
farthest corner.

Flaring out his nostrils wide, the behemoth is an impressive specimen of storm
giant; towering at just under fourteen feet in height. His mane of sea-green
locks and haunting, oceanic-blue eyes only further accentuating his clearly
pureblooded heritage as a snarl emits from his lips, the scent of Magic has
tingled his nose and invoked a fury deep within him. Sputtering some rain
from his gaping mawline, he crouches low to the ground before swiftly moving
off. Piercing eyes survey the shrouded and murky vicinity, somehow he is able
to see through the storm.

A few minutes pass... he continues to survey and observe the surrounding
landscape, looking up paths, down crevices... until...

Suddenly crouching low to the ground, three dim figures may have gone unnoticed
were it not for the barely discernable, but still audible chanting issuing forth
from one of them. Lighting up the vicinity as the clouds streak a bolt down from
there black contents, the blue-skinned beast doesn't wait a second longer,
instead he launches himself into a sudden dash. Moving with the grace of a jungle
cat, the shoulder of the giant easily meets the chin of the humanoid barely half
his size, clipping him to send him as a sprawling heap into the ground.

Groggily trying to stagger back to his feet, the elf can only look up in shock.
Before he can even respond a pair of swords are impaled through his chest,
causing him to choke and gag for the last few breaths that may escape from
his lips, gurgling on blood as it instantly rushes into his throat.

Somehow sorrow is visible in the face of the massive beast, a very odd contrast
to an otherwise intimidating and stern countenance as he expels a deep sigh,
closing the eyes of the highborn he just murdered. Wrenching his swords free
from the husk of a body he says to himself and the woodsman which quickly
scattered into cover to avoid the much larger giant.

"I'm sorry you chose this path. Perhaps in the next life you will understand..."

With that the giant walks off slowly, clearly contemplating his actions before
disappearing into the growing storm.

Role

Chapter 1

Gazing beyond a broad shoulder covered in a spiked pauldron, the blue-skinned
behemoth draws in a deep breath as his piercing eyes stare at the ancient stone
tablet which has been set at the direct center of this crudely-thatched dwelling.
Gripping a pair of massive waraxes, the behemoth then slides his stern sight to
look over one even more impressive.

Forged from warfare over thousands of years is a creature which at this point in
time appears as if he is composed entirely of scar-tissue. Thundering at a height
of twenty feet if not more, a pair of everchanging blades meld and shift in his
fearsome grip, as if literally an extension of himself.

Nodding once fiercely as they meet the gaze of the other, the blue-skinned giant
squints to get a good vantage at an opening which reveals a group of smaller
humanoids huddled around it. Dim rain falls from overhead, creating a cool and
damp scene for the upcomming battle.

Creeping in quietly to poke his head and shoulders into the doorway is a wood-elf
clutching a shaft of crackling energy which appears as a hazy mace and a bejewelled
harp of the finest of workmanship. Launching himself into a sudden maneuever, the
giant doesn't hesitate for a split second as he swings both axes to catch both of
the shoulders of the wood-elf, pulling to drag him deeper into the Shrine.

Moving like a surging avalanche crashing down a mountain, the much larger figure,
otherwise known as the "Destructor of Magic" snaps both ends of a pair of swords
together. Suddenly they meld and shift to form a staff with which he pushes on
the wood-elf's chest with, causing him to crumple to the ground underfoot. Savagery
issues forth as both gigantic humanoids pound down on the wood-elf until he lays
as a mound of twisted flesh. Breathing deeply, the blue-skinned giant looks up as
a trio of soldiers arrive, swinging whip and foot to try and force him to the ground.
Stumbling, tumbling, but managing at the last second to catch his footing to make a
decisive retreat, one thought resonates in his mind...

"Atleast I got one... but... how am I going to slay three of them and reclaim the
Head... hrmph!"

Padding off into a fierce and brooding storm, the blue-skinned giant slips off into
the night.

Immortal Comments

PK Gank-O-Meter

PK Statistics

Skill List

Skill List

PK Wins

PK Wins

PK Deaths

Leveling History

Timeline

Mob Deaths

Edges