m (1 revision)
Latest revision as of 22:44, 25 January 2009
- Apperance: Eschaton is a tall, powerfully built man of middle years. Steely grey eyes combine with a long aquiline nose that are the marks of his patrician breeding. His expression remembles that of a graven stone statue, umoved and unmoving.
- Age: Mid 40's
- Home: Formerly of Stormwind, he now resides in his hidden Sanctum under the ruined Temple of Eldarath in Azshara.
- Father: Duke Calthis Felthan
- Mother: Catriona Felthan
- Siblings: One older brother, Khel.
- Marital Status: Single
- Titles: Born Eschaton Felthan, Eschaton is a Knight and Guardian of the Ebon Flame. He is known to the denizens of the Nether as the Agent of the Apocalypse.
As with most Warlocks, Eschaton views the world through the prism of his knowledge of the Nether and the true Powers of existence that are hidden from other mortals. His manner is formal and polite, largely from a combination of his landed upbringing and his extensive experience with the strict formulas and rituals required for contacting and binding the creatures of the Void. Eschaton rarely shows any emotion other than a grim determination to complete his Great Work, or occasionally a wry amusement at the pretensions of mages who think to control the forces of the Nether without being corrupted in the process. More mundane everyday matters have no significance to him whatsoever, other than passing amusement at the importance other mortals place on such trivial and transitory things.
It was night in Stormwind, the pale full moon casting it's eerie glow over the mighty city. The minarets and spires of Stormwind Castle and the Cathedral of Light glowed faintly in the moonlight, lending the entire city an unearthly feel. Along one of the shadowed roads of the Old Town, a figure moves through the darkness, the shadows seeming to coalsece around them as they move. For those other brave souls out this late that pass this figure, they have to repress a shudder as the sense of...otherness from the cloaked stranger causes a chill right down to their bones.
Oblivious to the stares and whispered prayers of the passers by, the cloaked figure passes through the tunnel that leads to the Trade Quarter and swiftly makes their way to the mailbox outside the city's main vault. From underneath the cloak that completely enshrouds them, the stranger takes a small envelope and drops it into the mailbox before disappearing off into the night as if they never existed.
The note, written on expensive vellum and scribed in a long flowing script.
To whom it may concern,
It is said that knowledge is power, that to have knowledge of a person, especially of their true nature, is to wield great power over them. Know then the history of the one you know as Eschaton Fell.
Nothing is evil in the beginning. That profound and inutterable darkness of the soul that is required for one to study the Forbidden Arts is always grown out of unspeakable tradegy and despair. Thus has it been with Eschaton Fell.
Born of House Felthan in the city-state of Stormwind, the young Eschaton led the typical life of the youngest son of a rich and well regarded noble family, studying with both the priests of the Cathedral of Light and the mages at the Tower. Having shown an aptitude and interest in the more profound questions of meaning and faith, Eschaton was admitted as a novice into the priesthood of the Cathedral and quickly rose through the ranks. However as he approached the higher echelons of the church, Eschaton began to encounter that most basic of rules of existence, that power corrupts. More and more he saw bishops and above acting in their own political self interest rather than for the good of their flock. As a high ranking cleric he had access to the elite of Stormwind society and realised that behind the facade of expensive clothes and flowery speeches a culture of corruption and deceit existed amongst the mighty of the realm. Thus the ground was prepared for the events that would change his life forever, for already disillusioned by the politicing and naked ambition of the ruling class of Stormwind, it was one final betrayal that would change Eschaton's life forever.
His father, the Duke Calthis Felthan became entangled in a particularly viscious feud between the Chancellor of the Realm, Baron Lacrovoise and the Keeper of the Treasury, Sir Khars Morind. Lacrovoise, scheming and corrupt, was trying to siphon off funds from the Royal Treasury to fund a mini army so that he could annex a large tract of very valuable land of one of his neighbours. Morind began to suspect what was happening and went to Duke Calthis for help in confronting Lacrovoise. Being old friends, Calthis felt honourbound to aid the noble knight, and they began to collect evidence of Lacrovoise's guilt. But the Chancellor had spies everywhere and he soon became aware of the threat to his scheme.
Using his position and wide influence, Lacrovoise accused both Felthan and Morind of conspiring to assasinate the Regent and claim the kingdom for themselves. Using fake documents (and no short amount of bribes), both nobles were swiftly arrested and sentenced to death for treason. Even crueller still, because the property of a convicted traitor always revert's to the state, the entire holdings of House Felthan were confiscated leaving Escahton's family with nothing. Driven beyond reason by grief and the loss of both her husband and her home, Escahton's mother took her own life, leaving only Eschaton and his older brother Khal to go into hiding and try to rescue what was left of their lives.
Khal, ever pragmatic, sought refuge with the Defias Brotherhood, seeking to avenge himself on the powers of Stormwind, however for his younger brother mere revenge would not be enough. Seeing the leaders of the Church of Light stand by and let his father be executed when they knew he was innocent caused something to break inside the soul of Eschaton Felthan. The ceremony, the pomp, the pretensious sermonising was all for nothing if the core was rotten. Eschaton grimly realised that The Church and the civilisation it supported were corrupt beyond retrieval. Driven by rage and grief Eschaton quite simply turned his back and walked away from The Light. No society, no world that allowed such a crime as this to occur should be permitted to exist, and so the youngest son of House Felthan looked up at the stars, into that vast inky blackness, and took it upon himself to destroy the world.
Delving into the forbidden lore of Demonology, Eschaton began to marshal his powers. Driven grimly on by his determination to cleanse the universe of this wretched place called Azeroth he made pacts with some of the Greater Powers of the Twisting Nether who in turn granted him access to knowledge long forgotten or hidden from other mortals.
As Eschaton travlled throughout Azeroth, biding his time he witnessed the growing tensions between the Alliance and the Horde. A typical mortal war he thought, petty and pointless, oblivious to who the real enemies were, to the threat that lay beyond the boundaries of this world. His concerns were greater, more profound. He would plan, and wait until he could attain the only redemption he now could conceive of, to rid existence of this wretched world.
And so the Warlock, driven mad by grief, waits patiently so that he may play his part in the final dissolution of the Universe.
The letter is not signed, but bears a glyph at the end of the page, in silver lettering an intertwined AD, the sigil of the Argent Dawn.