Sobaen the Holy Shaman > Ye Olde Graveyard > Abandoned Realms Forums
Sobaen created on 27th of June 2017, and is dead and gone (17 years old, 14 hours, 2 days lifetime)

Title: the Holy Shaman
Gender: Male
Level: 50
Class: drow shaman

Background history:

  1. Ill Fated (The Birth of a Dhampir) - posted at 2017-06-27 10:24:45
  2. Shaping a Life (Bound With The Imp, Dhampir Hungers) - posted at 2017-06-27 10:27:28
  3. Awakening (Finding the Guildmaster) - posted at 2017-06-27 10:30:53
  4. Direction (A Sacrfice for Darkhan) - posted at 2017-06-29 06:16:45
  5. The Runes Have Been Cast (An Unfathomable Lust for Power) - posted at 2017-06-29 06:18:55
Ill Fated (The Birth of a Dhampir)
Spittle drips from his cracked and crusted lips, spread wide in a malicious, fang-bearing grin of ecstasy alloyed with insanity. His breath comes hot and heavy as he stalks his whimpering, petrified prey. Calling upon he innate strength of the truly wicked, he bunches his muscles and springs upon her lithe, half-starved elven form. Chained as she is, with nowhere but small circles to run about the stake that anchors her within the grimy cell, she cowers, shuddering not unlike a mouse hearing the shriek of an owl overhead at the darkest hour of the night. He pounces upon her, his human weight lending force to his maniacal rage. Her face is masked in terror, though the tenancy of that visage quickly fades into a defeated, expressionless resignation before her eyes roll back into her head and she fades into the welcome embrace of nothingness. She will know what happened, but will never remember it. The fates are unusually kind, this time. Heavy footsteps echo down the dark corridor, rousing her from fitful sleep. The rattle of keys and the turn of the lock cause her to open a swollen, blood-crusted eye. She stares warily towards the entrance, feigning sleep even as her body begins to convulse in abject terror. The termagant shaking causes her chains to rattle, belying her awareness of the intruders within the small, dank cell. The muttering of the beast, for he is certainly that, escalates into screams of rage and fear as the forms that have entered the cramped space remove his chains and utter the indecipherable incantations of the arcane, bending him to their will. As he is lead away, his face a mask of terror even the strongest magics cannot constrain, a smile spreads across her lips. Murmuring quietly to herself as the door closes and the lock turns, her hand settles upon the growing lump of her belly, gently stroking. Slowly, the pains ease into a constant throb. Soon, she thinks, this aberration will be drawn from her. If it does not consume her, first. Pain. Dark rivers of undulating, unrelenting and unremitting pain course through her lithe body, culminating in backbreaking, jaw clenching, teeth crushing convulsions. Her cries of agony do not go unnoticed. Even as the last throws of agony erupt between her legs, crowning in a pool of mucous and blood, she feels something break within her. As the placenta encased form slides out from within her, a wave of darkness, interminable eternity, slowly consumes her consciousness. She will never be aware of the dark, distinctly feminine form standing over her cooling body, uttering unintelligible phrases that lift the still form from between her wretched thighs. She will never know the road her progeny will travel, that its twists and turns will be more vile, by far, than her own deplorable existence. Standing over the corpse of her recently expired slave, the newcomer nods her head with a smirk of dark satisfaction, turning to exit even as the small form begins to wriggle in the cool, damp air, carried out before her on the winds of magic. "Perfect," she thinks to herself with a wicked smile. The fates have swung to new lows, the depths of evil saturating the beginning of another miserable life.

Description (commended):

An unimposing, seemingly broken figure stoops before you, bent at the waist and clearly bow-legged. His spindly, discordant legs, ending in pidgeoned, nearly ossified feet, appear incapable of bearing any weight, yet he remains aright despite their tremulous and anemic semblance. Although he appears burdened by some invisible weight, his head is lifted in apparent defiance, his piercing gaze roving endlessly about his surroundings. His dark almond eyes shift frantically, wildly, not unlike a cornered beast. A multitude of thin scars crisscross the soft, olive skin of his face, culminating in a ragged line that could once have been a proud, distinguished nose but now lies twisted in ruin. His thin, blood-red lips attempt to hide two small, yet sharp fangs protruding from his mouth. The dark, damaged skin circumscribes his thin face, ending in slightly pointed and scar-thickened ears. His breath comes in ragged gasps, as if even the act of living exerts a great toll upon his body. One arm remains ever present before him, a nearly desiccated, skeletal claw, with a small book covered in indecipherable runes hovering above it. A bundle of pouches and vials slung about his thin waist adding to the weight of the world that continues to bear down upon this young half-breed, their make and purpose concurrent with those held by many a priest in the lands, albeit second or third hand by their worn, clearly deteriorated condition.

PK stats:

Kills: 0, Deaths: 6 (Ratio: 0, Efficiency: 0%)
Pinnacle Kills: 0, Pinnacle Deaths: 6 (Ratio: 0, Efficiency: 0%)

Kills by class:

Killed by class:
paladin: 5,

Nemesis: Ceridwel


  1. Vinther [reply]
    2 , 1 , 2 .
    So yeah, I spend 5 rl days writing these background entries, in-game speech gimmicks, all the aliases for different poses and emotes just to throw it all away because I think a shitty mace from level 40 mob is completely worth to cheat for?

    A cheat that if I wanted to do, I would have done it and gotten away with it, because it is that fucking easy.

    The person who gave me the mace could have gotten it alone with an ease. I did not know when or with who he got it, I don't fucking keep track of every single activity and mob I kill on my other chars hours or days ago.

    All of this is fucking bullshit, complete and utter bullshit and I don't take bullshit from anyone.

    Ceridwel, iolo, whoever the fuck you are. Just keep following your fucking logs and refuse to use your head. Surely will get you to places!

    Fuck this shit - as I move on to do something more meaningful with my time.

    Btw, people who focus on the RP aspect of the game are usually not the type to cheat for shitty items. If I was so keen on cheating myself eq, I would just play and roll random trash PK chars. And with the amount of hours I put into game, I can get any piece of eq on my own with an ease, it's simply a matter of time you spend killing it and obviously I had time.

    Thanks for being a fucking tool.
      [reply to Vinther]

    Post a New Comment