The Blood Cult/Initiations/Seventh

Roleplay from Malfurion Stormrage

Message sent to everyone around Fianik

Although Malfurion was resplendent in the blackened steel plate mail that the Stormrage family was well known for, his had become unique in that it had begun to take on aspects of his new life in the Netherworld. Where once it had been designed to be sleek and without ornament, now it could be seen to have a much darker visage. Although much like his brothers' bracers, his still retained the entwined image of the Great Dragon Raviel the Storm Rager, founder of their House, now bladed protrusion curved out from under the forearms. Clearly not mere ornaments, these blades had a hint of blood still on them, proving to anyone careful enough to look that these were weapons intended for use and not display. Similar blades could be seen on the grieves covering Malfurion's knees and elbows, and where once his breast plate was only smooth steel, now demonic skulls adorned his shoulders and the emblem of the Netherworld appeared in the center of his chest. Attaching his cloak with a cloak pin that appeared to be made from a small human skull, Malfurion grasped the broken bladed crown of his great helm in his gauntleted hand before proceeding to put it on as he strode out of his quarters and past the daemon guards that protected his estate. Although he had no idea what to expect, nor what to prepare for, when it came to this initiation Malfurion knew in his heart that it didn't truly matter. He was not one to be easily dissuade and he had a well founded confidence in his own abilities. He was the last of the true Generals of Fontan after all, last of a long line of military geniuses from an ancient realm. At the height of the last war he had held off the advances of six realms seeking his death, he had personally slaughtered more men then most people ever met in their entire lives not to mention how many tens of thousands more that he had ordered to their deaths and to the deaths of those they fought against. Now to top it all off he was Overlord of the Netherworld.. what other man could claim such accolades as that? Testing the pull of his black bastard sword in its sheath at his hip, Malfurion strode through the dark streets listening to the cries of daemons hunting in the night. They had been an interesting challenge, soldiers that required a hand stronger then their own to lead them. Showing weakness was not an option when dealing with their ilk, and his title had certainly not impressed them either. He recalled the days spent proving his right to lead them through pure force of arms quite fondly. Now that had been a worthy test, forcing the daemons to acknowledge a superior being through the strength of his own hands. Perhaps tonight would be another such experience, Malfurion thought to himself as he strode towards the mouth of the mountain of fire. As the cries that enlivened the night grew stronger Malfurion grinned a truly wicked grin. This would indeed be a night to remember, of that he was certain.

Malfurion Stormrage (Overlord of Netherworld)

Roleplay from Malfurion Stormrage

Message sent to everyone around Jobo's Mouth

A flickering fire was the only sign of life at the mouth of the mountain of fire. The crackling of the fire and the illumination of the nearby pools of lava showed the bodies of dead daemons being over seen by the reclining form an armored man on top of the nearby rocks. The smell of cooked meat filled the air and the nearby ground was littered with cracked bones as if this was the lair of powerful predators. Those animals and daemons that still lived and resided here no longer made their presence known however, for this area had been claimed by a hunter far greater then its normal denizens. Malfurion rested easy and in plain sight on the largest rocks in his immediate area. His pose was a challenge to any who saw him, both claiming dominion here and daring them to challenge him for that same right. As he sat idly picking his teeth with a sliver of bone from one of his most recent kills he kept patient watch for whatever would come next. He had received word to come to the mouth of the mountain fire from God, and so here he sat waiting for some sign of what else was required of him. Up till now the hunting had been good, and the daemons that called this region home had been quick to challenge his trespass. With the strongest of them now dead however it seemed Malfurion's fun had come to an end. With nothing left to hold his attention Malfurion drew upon his patience, born of many years of long military campaigns, as he began to test the edge of his sword and await further news.

Malfurion Stormrage (Overlord of Netherworld)

Roleplay from Valachi Stefanovic

Message sent to everyone around Jobo's Mouth

"You may fancy yourself a great hunter, Malfurion, but you should be wary of such imaginings. It is not through the strength of our fist that we arrived here, nor is it through the power of our swords that we remain." Valachi spoke as he approached the crest from the northwest, at his side walking a young girl with hood covering her face. "Aeons ago, Malfurion, the Great Daimon showed the Xenotl the passage to a new place. There, they found refuge from the tireless hunt of the Xelatl. Today, we stand at that gateway." He paused, letting the reference to ancient things linger before continuing. "The Xelatl cursed the Xenotl. A curse with only one cure: Blood. The blood must flow. It must never cease, it must never stagnate. Life must continue on that the Gods may live. That is why I summoned you here, Malfurion." Looking at the girl behind him, a crooked smile appeared on his lips. "This is the last surviving child of the fisher in Zettermain. She has come to give her blood that the gods may live another day." The girl stepped forward and lowered her hood, revealing a stunningly beautiful woman. The rarest kind of a peasant - one a noble might notice. Still so young... still innocent... "Release this girl's blood from her flesh and dedicate it to the one you shall follow, Malfurion. As Hueyi Xerotl, the living word of the Lord of Shadow, I will witness your first sacrifice to the gods."

Valachi Stefanovic (God of Netherworld, Tlamacazqui Xerotl)

Roleplay from Malfurion Stormrage

Message sent to everyone around Jobo's Mouth

Malfurion looked the odd pair before him over as he took in God's words. The pretty girl seemed distinctly out of place in these surroundings but he was in no position to judge this situation so he didn't waste his time pondering the matter further. If this was the will of God then so be it, it was a simple matter after all, and dealing death was a duty he was well versed in. "As you say, so shall it be.." Malfurion said to God as he drew his sword and turned his eyes back to the girl before him. "I sacrifice your life blood in the name of Jacotl. May he find satisfaction in my offering." With a natural skill honed through years of practice Malfurion swiftly brought his blade to bare, parting the girl's head from her shoulders with one smooth cut. He had no qualms with ending her life but it seemed needlessly cruel to make her death slow or painful. This way was swift at least and it provided Jacotl with the blood God said he required, blood that even now fountained out with the final beats of the girl's heart as her body came to terms with its plight and began to collapse. Stepping forward, Malfurion grasped the girl's arm in his gauntleted hand and ease her body down away from God's robes. Though he'd asked for blood, something told Malfurion that God didn't want to be soaked in it. After using the girl's robe to clean the crimson blood off his black blade, Malfurion stood and sheathed his sword before turning back to God.

Malfurion Stormrage (Overlord of Netherworld)

Roleplay from Malfurion Stormrage

Message sent to everyone around Jobo's Mouth

Even with his breast plate and upper body armor removed Malfurion was an imposing figure. His strong arms, wide shoulders and massive chest were clearly the product of hard labor and his numerous scars attested to the fact that his work was done on the battlefield with a blade in his hand. As Malfurion lounged on a boulder seemingly indifferent to his surroundings the small hammer of the priest continued to tap incessantly at the needles he was using to work the ink into Malfurion's flesh. The tattoo was not overly complicated but its simple black tribal design only added to its primal beauty. Its origin point was a wolf that almost appeared to be made of flame as it paused mid-climb up the left side of Malfurion's chest. It faced out across his chest in such a way as to almost appear to be staring into his heart with its piercing gaze. The wolf was seen to be climbing a wall of vines and those vines branched out from the wolf, twining up as if they were seeking to cover his shoulder, the longest tendrils of which could be seen climbing the base of Malfurion's neck. In Malfurion's eyes this was a fitting mark for a follower of Jacotl the Wolf Lord. He was a God of the deep dark forest, God of strength and war, and the bringer of the Gods' own justice. It was in Jacotl's nature to despise the weak and promote the virtues of the strong, it was his will that this world followed his primal law, survival of the fittest. What greater tribute could Malfurion show him then to offer up his heart and the promise of his own arms with Jacotl's symbols, his arms that took what they could hold and claimed dominion over the daemons as their Overlord. Jacotl valued and strengthened those who claimed what they deserved with the strength of their own arms, he had no need for sycophants and their wasted prayers. He valued action and strength, not the begging of the unworthy. So it was that Malfurion offered tribute and blood to Jacotl, as those were his due, but he did not waste his time with prayers. Such words were a sign of weakness and unbefitting of a follower of Jacotl. He would gain his God's blessings and boons through his actions in his name, not through requests and wishful thinking. As the priest finally finished his work and stepped back to admire his handiwork, Malfurion flexed his shoulder and raised his arms high to his God. "With the strength of my arms I shall pour a river forth to thee!" Malfurion roared into the mouth of fire as the wind picked up almost as if it roared back at him in response. "None shall feast as well as you Jacotl!" As Malfurion made to ready himself there could be heard in the distant night the howling of wolves as if perhaps they understood his cry and would carry it on in his stead. That or perhaps they brought him back his answer, perhaps their calls were the acceptance of his tribute and of his promises, both spoken and unspoken.

Malfurion Stormrage (Overlord of Netherworld)