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 Lord Doctor Archnazg Magnark

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Doctor Plaguous


Posts : 221
Join date : 2009-11-16
Location : Glasgow

PostSubject: Lord Doctor Archnazg Magnark   Tue Nov 17, 2009 4:07 am

[size=150]Basic Information[/size]

Character Name: Fathius Archnazg Magnark
Character Age: 50~
Character Race: Forsaken
Sex: Male
Family: Two daughters, one son as Forsaken, two lost/dead sons and a lost/dead wife.
Title(s): Governor, Lord, Doctor
Role in the House: Dark Harbinger


Hair Colour: Black
Eye Colour: Sickly yellow
Skin Colour: Pale blue

Weapons used
Long magical staff imbude with dark magics
Sharp jagged enchanted mace
Several dark tomes and scrolls
A dagger kept in robes

Armour/garments used, in and out of battle
Black robes of the Forgotten Shadow
Apothecary overalls
General noble dress

Magics/spells used
Shadow and Death magics to a very high level. Also uses Dark Alchemy in his practices.

Professions studied and to what ability
Very skilled alchemist capable of creating plagues. Experienced doctor on the medical research field. Years of practice, he has written many books and studies on alchemy and such.


Alignement: Chaotic Evil. Though he may appear different to some, he is chaotic evil in waiting.

Likes: Wine, gold, darkness, cold, control, power of all forms.
Dislikes: Being controlled, scared of losing power. He does not like being spoken down to nor his will being denied.
Persuasion techniques:Torture to the cruelest and most horrible form.
Seeks to become: The leader of the Forsaken
Looks up to: The Forsaken, as a whole.
Envies: Sylvanas, the Lich King
Most used method of slaying a captured foe: High volts of electricity to the face
Most proud of: His devotion and services to the Forsaken
Most ashamed of: His treacherous mind and lust for power
Ultimate dream: To destroy the Living and rule the Undead


Born in: Lordaeron City
Pre-House info: Served the Forsaken from their first birth

The account of Dr. Lord Fathius Archnazg Magnark the Hallowed, Dark Lord of the House of Sylvanas, Governor of the Undercity, Master Apothecary of the Royal Apothecary Society Research and Development Dept.

This account looks into the death of Fathius Magnark as a human, in Lordaeron City on the first day of the Scourge invasion and becoming the honoured Forsaken noble that he is today.


Fathius rode manically up the flaming streets of Lordaeron, anarchy and chaos leapt around as hundreds fled and were gnawed down. They fell and moments later rose again as living death. The hospitals were overran by starving zombies as the sick died from the plague and rose as mindless servants. Flesh giants crushed their way through the city and effortlessly destroyed any resistance. The beautiful city drowned in smoke and blood had fallen, and little escaped. The king was dead and Prince Arthas had taken over in his rule of darkness.

Fathius finally reached his home, the door was broken down, and windows smashed. Moving in he trembled, fear and despair filled his mind, the walls were splattered in blood, and his home destroyed. There he met the worst scene. His wife he saw, she lay on the ground, drenched in blood. Fathius knelt down to her, tears rushed down his face, he grasped her and hugged his wife for the last time. Looking over in his nightmare he saw his youngest daughter, three-year-old Melshaz lay, broken. Fathius sunk his head to his beloved wife’s chest, he cried and screamed, he was not there to defend his wife. Upstairs he then went, trembling in despair he saw his daughters Sarahna and Drusila. Sarahna lay motionless, staring at Fathius, in a pool of blood. Drusilla lay against the corner of the room, which was a bed room, with a sword in her hand, blood still dripped from her body. Fathius was broken, and he cried and cried, hugging his dead daughter’s corpses, wishing he could have done something. His white robes of healing now a gory red. For his other son’s he found in the basement, savaged. The cries and screams from outside now returned to Fathius, he gazed out his top window over the city. The world was over, he thought. He locked himself in his grand study at the top of his home. Pacing to and from each side, he stood, thinking, shacking in trauma. He quickly made a move, taking with him a holy gravel and his grand staff, both imbued with magical power. He ran out to the street. Glancing to his left he saw one of them, a ghoul, it was clearly once a man, yet now had terrible claws and a malformed structure. It leapt to him, crying in a shrill sound, preparing to devour him. Yet Fathius glared, filled with absolute rage and unstoppable wrath he cried some words of a magic tongue and fire leapt up around the ghoul, a white fire of light. A Holy fire. The ghoul fell, crying in pain, burning into ash. Fathius ran along, finding a wandering horse he took it. The horse responded well to him.

For some time he managed to wade through the carnage, witnessing the most horrible sights of his people suffering and dying. He finally made his way to a large courtyard. There stood a drawbridge to the king’s throne room. The drawbridge was up. However beyond the courtyard, just to his right stood the gate to the woods. All was silent again. A glimmer of hope came to him at last, his chance to ride out of the chaos and into the woods to hide. He knew people beyond.

“At last. My chance to escape.” Sweat and blood dripped down his forehead “Now is the time!”
It was then that arrows darted out of the shadows, his horse fell, it lay on the ground, blood pouring from it’s wounds. Fathius was thrown over and down the stairs which led down to the courtyard. An arrow had pierced his stomach. He winced in pain, blood came from his mouth, he spat and yanked out the arrow with a short cry of pain. He got to his knee, and cast forth a desperate prayer. His wound healed, he felt somewhat rejuvenated. Once out he could disappear into the shadows. But now he looked around and saw that through each side of the courtyard ghouls poured in. Dead people, once people he had known and seen before. He cried again in anger and smote down a few. They ran at him, he stood now in the centre by an old statue fighting for his life. He ran now, ran for the exit. Ghouls grabbed onto him, tearing at his feet he fell. So much pain, he had never felt before. They began chewing on his legs, more came, ripping at his arms. Stabbing their claws into his stomach, he roared in pain, screaming and crying in absolute despair and terror. The screams turned into a gargling choking sound as they ripped into his neck and body, feasting on his flesh. Finally all went black for Fathius. He lay, savaged and torn in a pool of blood in the ruins of Lordaeron City.

But then he woke up. “What’s happening!? What’s this!? I can’t. I! What!? So cold.. so cold..” Then he moved, a presence gripping him forth. “No? What!?” He moved yet he controlled not his actions. Another presence moved him, he felt it, whispering and torturing him. The pain was immense, yet he saw through the eyes of his walking corpse. It ran, chewed and tore up. Spreading the anarchy. Witnessing the fall of his beloved city. Running with crowds of mangled corpses he did. He grew mad, insane, stuck inside this shell with nothing but his mind. He saw his son. He tried to cry out, desperately, but nothing happened. He slashed his way through civilians running away, feasting on their flesh, he feasted on the flesh of his dead son, ripping forth organs from his body. Stuck in an eternal nightmare, hell, nothing more horrible could he imagine existed.

Days passed. His mind had grown completely insane now and he knew little of what went on anymore, and would only ever recall faint images of his time trapped in his rotting body. Weeks passed. Hours felt like days and days like years. He saw all around Lordaeron fall and rot. Soon he was alone, wandering mindlessly through the trees of Tirisfal. He would stand for days, motionless, forever the whispers of the unknown wretched but so powerful presence commanding him.

He did not know how long it had been, but one day, it stopped. He fell onto the ground, smacking against the dead grass. He gargled and spluttered. Coughing and spewing he lay on the ground, he felt breath again, but it was different. He could not walk, so crawled, crawling along the side he made his way along a riverbank. For days he crawled, soon he managed to walk, yet he limped and staggered most of the way. The light he could not use, he did not even think of it, he only thought of finding his loved ones. He did not know where he was or what had happened. He was truly blank to the ruin of his city.

His tormented and twisted mind now a shadow of his former self. An aberration, wandering in his torn, muddy and bloodied robe. His fingers had become claw like, his senses were numb. He wandered slowly through the forest, he was starving and weak. It was then when he found a dying dog, it was clearly wounded and diseased, lost in the wild, much like Fathius. He sunk his now sharp teeth into its leg and began to devour it. Blood sprayed all over as he ripped out organs from its body, chewing and bursting them in his mouth. Feeling somewhat rejuvenated he crept on through the woods until finally he heard noises.

Caring not who it was he limped in, a crippled figure he was. And alas, he saw ghouls, tents and fires.

“Hail. Another brother rises. Come forth my friend. A man stood, crippled and torn much like Fathius.”

“What am I...please.. help.” Fathius groaned, knowing this man was much like himself, a living corpse, mindless.

“Brother... you are Forsaken. Come. There is much you must know. The Dark Lady has broken us free from the whispering madness only two days ago. Come, Forsaken, you must see.”

With that Fathius left and joined this camp of Forsaken. He soon worked his way up their thin ranks and became a well respected figure in their small society. And the Dark Lady was named their Queen, the one who ended the nightmare and reunited them. She was the saviour, the deliverer. He took his previous knowledge of the Light and began to study the darker nature to it in which he had always forbidden himself to do previously. His mind became wrapped in darkness and he and his fellow once holy men basked in this darkness which was so new to them, yet so powerful. Every day more Forsaken were broken free from the whispering madness. Fathius became obsessed with darkness and revenge against those who ruined his previous life. He studied his form immensely, and became a well seasoned alchemist. Once the Undercity was taken and made their capitol he settled there, deep beneath the surface. For years he brooded in the dark streets, never going back to the surface. He began to despise his former race, human, the living. He grew so jealous and vengeful that he forgot all about his family and friends. So did he go that he forgot even his own name. A recluse in the dark tunnels, basking in twisted magics and affairs. And so he renamed himself Archnazg when the time came again to rise up out of the labyrinth.

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