Celtius Excessum

It was raining in the Vengeance Landing and the rest of the Bleeding Vale. Celtius walked silently down the road towards the lift until he reached the meatwagon wreck. He watched as the black smoke rose without a sound, only to disappear after reaching a certain height. Black smoke, eh? He said in his mind. I've seen this before. Instantly he recalled Silvermoon, the black smoke rising from the burning buildings. He sighed, shaking his head and the memories faded again.

His right eyebrow raised slightly a moment before he took a step to the left and turned around, his sword in his hand and already finishing a strike as the worg pounced into the spot where he just stood, now the elf being on its right. It didn't even manage to land fully before its blood sprayed out in all directions and its body fell apart into four almost equal sections.

The elf was cowering next to Celtius, watching the Scourge with terror in his eyes. Him, Celtius and the other eighteen elves that stood, waiting, we all clad in the armour and uniform of the Royal Guard. Their swords were drawn and shields were ready. Celtius slowly drew his two-handed sword, his gaze switching to their terrified “Captain”, noticing the blood that he already had on him and hearing, for the first time, the screams as the undead Scourge started the slaughter, sprays of blood only too audible.

And then it was gone. He was once again standing in the Bleeding Vale and not in the Silvermoon City. His eyes relaxed and he slowly looked over the quartered worg. Just a wild animal and not that coward. No, he killed -him- years ago. He shook his head quickly, his left palm covering his face for a moment before sheathing his sword and his body relaxing fully again. Sighing, he turned around and walked calmly towards the Derelict Strand. He passed through the forsaken ranks without a word, very few paying him much attention.

The fires burned brightly as the Scourge seeped through the broken walls, slaughtering all in their way, be it Royal Guard or an infant. The screams were unbearable and the Royal Guard around him broke rank and fled in pure fear while he remained rooted to the ground, not capable of moving. Then one spotted him, a giest, and jumped at him, claws out-stretched and ready to kill.

Celtius closed his eyes and opened them again quickly, finding himself faced with the burning barricade set up by the Alliance in their last stand, no longer in the streets of Silvermoon. The rain had no effect on the flames, heavy as it may be. Then he heard the drawing of swords and, looking around, he found himself surround by five of the North Fleet Sailors. Two draenei and three humans. He drew his sword slowly, his gaze fixed on one of the draenei. Then they attacked. Celtius lunged himself at the draenei, ducking under the incoming sword and piercing the draenei with his own sword right under the ribs. The elf then spun, ripping his sword free from the draenei, killing him, and parrying the blow of the second draenei, their swords locking.

The moon shone brightly in the Eversong Woods. Its light reflecting weakly from the armour and weapons of eighteen Royal Guards that surrounded him. Each one of them had their sword and shield drawn and ready, their gaze fixed on Celtius. They understood why he was here, they were waiting something similar for a good while now. Celtius took a deep breath in, his heart slowing down as he drew his sword. Silence hung heavily in the air for a moment before everyone, including Celtius, lunged forward at the same time, everyone but the last figure, a nineteenth opponent, that never moved.

Celtius' eyes narrowed slightly and the runes on his sword flashed briefly before the draenei's sword was knocked from its wielder's hands. He barely had time to react before Celtius' sword separated his head from the rest of his body.

The elf lowered his sword and coldly eyed the remaining three humans. Two carried swords and shields, the third one carried a small two-handed sword. He raised an eyebrow for a moment and outstretched his left palm towards the first draenei corpse. Tendrils of shadows surrounded it for a moment and, seeing this, the shield-wielding humans charged. Both of them slashed at the elf's head, but neither of their attacks hit home. One was parried by Celtius' blade, while the other was parried by his former comrade. They put up a very brief fight, fear weakening their blows and slowing down their reflexes. The risen corpse killed its opponent before Celtius did and he let it fall down life-less again, having no more need for it. His opponent made one final desperate attempt to behead the elf, but the attack was useless as the elf ducked down and stabbed upwards, just above the human's shield and straight into his head, killing him instantly.

A too loud footstep gave the human away, crushing whatever chance of surviving that he had. With a flick of his wrist, his blade cut through his last opponent's face and continued cutting through the air until it met the sword of the last remaining human. Celtius gazed coldly into a pair of frightened eyes. With a sharp movement, the human's sword was pushed aside, followed immediately by an open palm into his chest. The human was knocked off his feet, his sword fell from his hand and he lay, staring at Celtius.

The human was barely of age. A youngster. His eyes were wide and his entire body was shivering with fear. Tears of terror were running freely down his cheeks as Celtius took a step forward. He looked around himself, seeing the four corpses surrounding him.

He was breathing heavily, his heart pumping so hard as if it was trying to burst from his chest. His body and his sword were covered in fresh blood. All around him, eighteen corpses lay. Eighteen bloody corpses, the armour they wore, once proud, was now in ruins. They were truly “Blood” elves. The first act was done, but his main goal remained. He looked down in front of himself and saw a grown man, bloodied and in a complete state of shock brought on by fear.
“Father, you coward”, Celtius said to the man.
“Coward!? ME!? You were the one... the one.. standing... too afraid to even r-run! W-we fought else-where!” the elf shouted, almost screamed, back, fear evidently clear in his voice.
“I never cared much for you, getting you out of brothels, pubs and other holes was never too pleasing. Seeing you and the rest of them,” he pointed at the corpses around him before continuing, “flee like cowards... now -that- was the last straw. You will die for your failure to Silvermoon and to -me-.”
“Failure, you say?” The elf's voice was starting to calm down as he spoke, “Failure!? -You- were the one who failed. -You- were the one who watched as your beloved family get slaughtered. It isn't the Scourge that killed out your family.. it is you. For were the Royal Guard not your family also? Am I not your father? Your cowardice resulted in the death of your wife and child, now your anger will result in the rest of your family dying.”
Silently, Celtius raised his sword and took a step forward, towering above his cowering father.
“Are you going to kill me like an animal!?” he screamed up at Celtius, the image of calmness shattering.
“ I do... what I have to do,” Celtius replied calmly, his heart beating slowly and his breathing calm. His expression barely changed as his blade cut open his father's chest, not giving him time to scream before dying.

Celtius quickly shook his head, his left hand shooting up and covering half of his face while his sword remained held in his right hand, pointing at the cowering human.
“Not anger...” He muttered and looked over the human for a moment before sighing, taking a step forward and beheading him fast enough so that he felt no pain.

Silently, he cleaned and sheathed his sword. He looked over his surroundings for a final time before turning away and walking back to the Vengeance Landing. The recent re-animation was causing these flash-backs, or at least that's what he decided to believe. Just memories, if he can't survive those, he isn't fit to be a Throne Provocateur. With a slight smile on his face, he pulled his hood lower over his face and disappeared into the Vengeance Landing inn.

Celtius walked through the streets of Silvermoon City. Too much Light was around, but he needed to think and here, he wouldn't be looked for. He walked in complete silence until he reached the murder row. He suddenly stopped as he neared the inn there and turned his gaze at its entrance.

The drunken elf was struggling hard as Celtius slowly dragged him from the Murder Row inn by the back of his collar.
“I don't... no! I wasn't done yet!” The man shouted in a lazy drunken voice while pointing at the woman that was standing just inside the inn.
Celtius' eyes darted from the man to the woman and raised an eyebrow as he studied and memorized her face. Almost immediately, the drunken elf started calling out her name, desperately. Sighing, Celtius slammed the side of his hand into the side of the drunk elf's neck, knocking him cold straight away. Without uttering a word, he lifted his drunken father from the ground and carried him away.

Celtius shut his eyes as his left hand shot up to cover his face. Memories of the unwanted past kept on coming back in flashes. He just stood there, frozen like that, for minutes before turning and starting to walk away. Within moments, he set foot in the ruined part of the city.

Slowly, he made his way across the square, his every move being closely watched by the farstriders, but the other local residence, the wretched, were doing their best to keep away from him. He walked for a while before reaching one of the ruined houses towards which he was walking. He stood at the door-way with his right hand on the door frame.

Celtius stood in the door-way, smiling as he inhaled the sweet scents of his home. Before he had time to fully lose himself, he was almost knocked off his feet as his son ran almost straight through him and into the house. He shook his head, smiling as he fully regained his balance. His smile widened slightly as two arms wrapped themselves around his waist from behind him, her wife resting her chin on his left shoulder, smiling.

A sound came from the upper floor and a wretched came walking down the stairs. He froze at the sight of Celtius standing in the only entrance. Unforeseen fury rose in the wretched as he charged at Celtius, punching out at his face mid-run. The death knight slowly leaned to the right, causing the attacker's fist and arm to pass above his left shoulder. Instantly, his arm shot up and caught the wretched's head with his hand, his palm covering the face. The wretched froze, fear not allowing him to move. Celtius calmly closed his eyes and didn't do anything more. Seeing this, the wretched started to slowly struggle, fear slowly releasing its grip. Just as he was about to try to tear himself away, Celtius' eyes napped open and flashed crimson red for a brief moment. The wretched didn't even scream as Celtius' hand compressed and crushed his head.

Celtius let the body fall to the ground and calmly walked around the house. The wretched's body is all the was amiss. There should have been another corpse here, but there wasn't. His eyes narrowed as he realised this. As he walked , his foot stepped upon something soft. He lifted his foot and saw the small stuffed toy.

The toy stuffed dragonhawk lay on the side of the bed beside the sleeping form of an elven child. The room was dark as the lights were out and stars dominated the sky. Celtius stood, leaning against the wall with his hands folded, watching his sleeping son. Every time he watched his son sleep, he questions his own father and his actions. He wasn't feeling like dragging him out of a brothel on that night. No, he would be where he belonged, waiting for his wife to return from duty.

Celtius' eyes narrowed greatly and his jaw tightened as the wretched's corpse slowly stood up and started to tear itself apart. All of Celtius' excess emotions appeared to have been vented through that. Sighing, he picked up the toy and sat down, laying the toy down on his lap. He rested his face in his left palm, trying to make sense of it all.

Celtius stood in silence on the northern coast of the Tirisfal Glades. He stood still with his hood down, causing the wind to blow through his long, dark hair. He enjoyed this peace. His ghoul stood a small distance behind him, staring dumbly into the sky.

“It was time..,” he whispered to himself, “.. to remember everything.”



Basic Information

Character Name: Celtius Excessum

Character Age: 156

Character Race: Blood elf / Forsaken (undead)

Sex: Male

Family:
Father – murdered by Celtius
Mother – deceased
Brother – presumably murdered by Celtius
Wife – presumably deceased
Son - deceased
Royal Guard Squad (chosen family) – slaughtered by Celtius

Role in the House: Royal Throne Provocateur

Description

Hair Colour: Dark blue/black.

Eye colour: Pale blue glowing switching to red more often

Skin Colour: Pale as ice

Weapons used:

Prefers to use a two handed katana sword, but he can use every hand-to-hand weapon effectively.

Armour and garments used in and out of battle:

Celtius prefers to wear the saronite robes of a death knight in everyday life and in combat, but he switches to heavy saronite plates if he is faced with a dangerous mission.

Magic/spells used:

Celtius is a heavy shadow user. His favourite spells include shadow mind illusions and raising of dead. He is also adept at frost magic and has a bad habit of freezing things (and people) solid if in a very foul mood.

Professions studied and to what ability:

Celtius studied medicine and the anatomy in the course of his training while still living. After joining the House, Celtius perfected the anatomical part to serve as a torture tool and as a weapon to be used in combat.

Alignment:

Lawfully evil

Personality

Likes: Silence, logic, total darkness, serving the House, terrifying and intimidating others.

Dislikes: Illogical and foolish behaviour, too much noise, traitors

Persuasion techniques: Mostly illusions and intimidation.

Seeks to become: The ultimate weapon and servant of Sylvanas.

Looks up to: No one.

Envies: Love.

Most proud of: Becoming a Throne Provocateur.

Most ashamed of: The remaining strings that tie him to his past.

History

Born in: Silvermoon City

Pre-house info: Sought out the House right after freeing himself from the Lich King.

Biography:

Celtius was born in Silvermoon City, son to a Royal Guard. Celtius was a very curious young boy that didn't care much about fighting and preferred to spend his days either reading books or being with his mother, with whom he shared a strong bond. His younger brother, Bladakan, was the very opposite. He trained in combat every second of his time and thus became closer to their father. But, whenever neither of them were spending time training or studying, the two young brothers were inseparable. They constantly played together and, because Celtius never really fit in with others, Bladakan even refused be with his friends just to keep Celtius company.

Celtius' long studies made his parents believe that he would become a very dedicated mage, but this didn't appeal to him either. When Celtius was around thirty, his mother ventured out of Silvermoon on an errand for their father. A patrol found her body near a road two days later. This shattered their father. He remained in the Royal Guard and even got promoted in time, but he started to visit pubs and brothels in his free time. Often, his sons had to drag him out of these buildings so that he wouldn't do something really embarrassing. Bladakan started to distance himself from their father and begun training alone, growing an interest in Fel.

Celtius was the worst his by their mother's death. His pacifist way of thinking was shattered. The day after his mother's funeral, he took his father's old sword and practised with it until he dropped from exhaustion. This kept on repeating itself for years until Celtius became adept at using all hand-to-hand weapons. He never cared much for trying to use the arcane or Fel like his brother. When he reached his adult hood, he began to meet his brother again. When they last met, Bladakan had a huge edge over Celtius in combat, but when they met as adults, Bladakan's fast-paced combat style couldn't keep up with Celtius. This gap between only widened over time and, due to his enormous dedication to law and order, Celtius was promoted into the Royal Guard.

Despite his objections, Celtius was placed into the squad captained by his father. He was never bitter to him, but his politeness only lasted while on duty. Their relationship didn't get any better as his father started to visit brothels more and more frequently. He remembered his father always shouting the same name when he was dragging him out.. always muttering the name when he was falling into a drunken sleep. He only saw the woman once but his father seemed to be focused on finding her for the second time. The same name, over and over again. “Daidrax”.

Despite this, Celtius didn't regret his position in his father's squad. He ended up meeting his wife in that squad, who gave birth to his son. This brought Celtius and Bladakan together as his brother loved to visit his nephew. Life was looking very well for Celtius, that is, until Bladakan started to become more than friendly with his wife. But this didn't turn into anything big as the Scourge had made its move into the lives of the elves. He remembered little of it. His squad broke rank and fled. Celtius and his wife were the only ones that managed to suppress the fear. They got separated during the assault and Celtius never found her, dead or alive. He did find the corpse of his son though, which he buried immediately.

Filled with hatred, he sought to punish his squad for treason to Silvermoon... for running away. He hunted them all down like animals and in one major clash, slaughtered them all like cattle. This took two years. He didn't know why, but his took all the corpses and, thanks to the facilities of a certain forsaken, stored them all in ideal conditions. He travelled Azeroth and Kalimdor for years afterwards, until he joined the assault in Northrend and fell to the Lich King. He was freed with a number of death knights and his new and preferred life began.