I AM FORSAKEN

rp blog for a world of warcraft forsaken oc; please see about & rules!

[rctchild]

          WHO WANTS TO BE YOUNG FOREVER?   -- indie + semi-sel rp blog for malkhaz millward, a forsaken rogue oc for WORLD OF WARCRAFT.  please read rules + about before interacting!

                                        google doc / ask / interest tracker

                                                                                                                            -- written by Hel

[rctchild]

for the record i will bring back gallywix if i anyone breathes in the direction of making a mekkatorque or a bilgewater oc or something and that is a threat

[rctchild]

Remember Mal; if you see Grandpa, send him back to the nursing home where he belongs

dw sis i got u

[rctchild]

picks you up and rattles you like a bag of goldfish

KITTEN HISSES

[rctchild]

hey i learned that interest trackers are a thing so i made one

[rctchild]

CONTINUED

he watches her hands try to work.  her being a higher order of undead in the hierarchy the curse decides, she still has the dexterity of life;  a recognizable ease of functionality that malkhaz knows not everyone is lucky to retain.  when she stops, he can see the minute tremble of the needle.  ( had he not had his eyes replaced during the fourth war, he wouldn't have been able to. )

"i meant it as a statement of empathy,"  he offers, raising his hands.  "it's okay if you're still mourning everything."

mal trails his gaze down the tearing of her wedding dress, the dirt that sullies its end.  she's the image of grief, everything taken from her the moments within a pivotal turning point in her life.  her circumstances are akin to a lot of first-generation forsaken;  stories that mal has been told and retold, sometimes with bitter resignation, sometimes with tears.  he knows he can't relate to her — his life was cut short waiting for something to change, and ultimately, becoming undead was his change.  though he's much older than he was when he died, and understands that many of his initial feelings about his status were naïve and foolish, he still generally believes:  becoming undead was one of the best things to happen to him.

"there's not anything you can do but keep going,"  he says, in answer to her question.  "the stuff you're feeling — it burns out in due time.  i know right now it's hard, but i mean...  you do what you want, now.  what's-his-face never gave you that."

keeping felix's name out of his mouth is an intentional gesture of sensitivity, but mostly, a subtle insult to that witless legion crotch-licker that he doesn't expect mary to necessarily catch onto.  no one who whores themselves to the legion is anything more than a grovelling coward,  mal had once been told by a wise old warlock.  their legacies, their desires and intentions — the waste of worms has more value than any of it.

"take care of yourself before you worry about anduin,"  mal suggests.  "that's what i'm trying to say.  after all, y'can't really save someone else if you're already drowning."

@lichbride

[rctchild]

          META / STUBBORN CHILD

it can come across very easily that malkhaz doesn’t learn his lesson.  he’ll be threatened by an enemy vastly more powerful than him, but regardless of what happens, he will bite back in the moment and he’ll bite back again if he lives to tell the tale.  it might’ve been said that killing him might teach him, but no–  he fought back the same way against stillwater in the final days of his life, too.

the primary reason why he’s like this stems from his attitude towards life.  malkhaz has a certain idealism to him, originally of a more childish and optimistic nature from a time so far away malkhaz has to work to remember it.  he learned it from his parents, both optimistic people, but he always did take more after his mother;  annemarie, a very stubborn woman herself, always said  “if things aren’t right, i’ll MAKE THEM right.”

malkhaz has learned this philosophy for himself, taken to the grave and beyond.  the more he bears witness to, the more he experiences and the more he sees wrong with the world, the more tightly he grips at the world he wants to see.  in this, his idealism has taken on two, somewhat disharmonious tones:  one, honest, heroic will for better;  two, spite.

the heroic side comes from being able to not only imagine the next step forward, but to feel as if he knows how to take it.  driven by impulse, he claims some rough semblance of a plan and considers it close enough to one that he believes it to be doable.  he might not even be necessarily wrong, though it might be more easily said than done.  that’s where the spite comes in, aside from the antagonism of whatever forces may be in place throwing shit at the fan.

to the enemy, the spite is what comes out most often.  he’ll fight back just to say fuck you in more words.  he’ll take up arms against something five thousand times his better because the alternative–  to sit back like a whimpering animal–  revolts him.  no, it’s usually not a good idea.  but to him, that’s not the point.

he wants to make life better for the people he loves.  he’ll even spare a thought to people he doesn’t, if the circumstances convince him to.  and he’ll stand up to whatever’s in his way, no matter how easily it could destroy him.

[rctchild]

          META / REFERRING TO OTHER UNDEAD / HORDE

mal is a friendly kid, and since he grew up in the likes of deathknell / brill surrounded by grumpy, pessimistic forsaken, the ill attitude of others doesn’t bother him when he’s confronted with it.  however, there are certain ways in which he refers to others:

-   other undead roughly his equal in class / power are called brother / sister / sibling:  unspokenly,  “of the grave”.  this will include forsaken soldiers, civilians, and dark rangers.  because he does genuinely see his fellow dead as family, he is comfortable doing this.  this also applies to any death knights he befriends  (see the bullet on other horde members below).

-   other undead above his station are given their proper titles, if applicable.  if he has a personal friendship with them, they will gain either a familial title, a nickname, or something else depending on the relationship itself.  (also, in crack, he calls sylvanas “mom” and nathanos “dad”, but he doesn’t have a death wish and will absolutely not call them these in canon.  at least not unless otherwise plotted, which i think is unlikely.)

-   other, living horde members roughly his equal in class / power  (which he’s also befriended)  are called brother / sister / sibling,  “in arms”.  though, “befriend” is a loose term here–  if the other person is open to him, he’ll start with it off the bat.  otherwise, for the horde members who are squinty at undead, he’ll work his way up there.

-   other living horde members above his station are given their proper titles, once again if applicable.  he’s much more strict with himself about this than with other undead, for the same reason that he doesn’t immediately just call everyone he meets under the red banner his family.  he likes to know that they feel the same way first.

of course, if the use of brother / sister / sibling is protested, he will not use it, or only in tense moments.

he will only ever refer to alliance, even alliance undead, by their names, titles  (with aggression)  or with insults.  his parents or friends of his parents get better treatment, obviously, but no alliance outside of his actual biological relatives are ever going to be his family.

[rctchild]

          HC  /  GRAVE LILIES

lilies as a symbol have a different connotation for the undead than they do for the living.  the difference is subtle, but substantial.

for the living, of course, they are a bittersweet symbol of lost loved ones and remembrance.  they demonstrate mourning, grief, and prayer for the peace of the soul of the one lost.

for the undead, however, it a very meaningful thing, for someone to give them lilies – especially if the giver is living.  the tragedy of leaving lilies at a grave, of course, is that you cannot give them to the person directly, and the person cannot take them.  but when that person still walks among the living, in spite of death, you absolutely can.

to give an undead person lilies, it means you are thinking of them.  it means that you care about them, in spite of what they are, while simultaneously acknowledging it.  what’s more, because you are both showing your consideration and your understanding of their state of being, it calls back to how most living immediately and vehemently turned away their undead loved ones when they came back from the scourge, in a good way.  effectively, the gesture counteracts that abandonment:  you are not mourning them as a person, you appreciate who they are, and that is exceptionally meaningful to a race who has long been shunned for exactly that.

of course, if the undead person has a grave and you leave lilies there instead of giving the bouquet to them personally, it tells them that they are dead to you and you cannot love who they are now.  it’s a very cruel thing to do.

this gesture can be romantic or platonic, just as it can be romantic or platonic to leave flowers at the grave of an actual dead person.

[rctchild]

hey i learned that interest trackers are a thing so i made one

[lichbride]

IF I CAN'T MAKE IT RIGHT ; THEN I WON'T MAKE IT WORSE -- Indie + semi-sel rp blog for Miriam Jewel, a undead human Lich (Mage DK) OC for WORLD OF WARCRAFT.

-- Rules (and more) | Headcanons | Ask | Submit

[rctchild]

[rctchild]

          i caught up to my commission schedule so i decided to doodle some thraina kids @warhowled @seahowled

[rctchild]

—   WARCHIEF

            ❝      da honor be mine,      boy.      it be good to see da youngbloods still takin’ pride in der hard work.      ❞      the warchief could not keep the smile out of his tone;      despite the worse for wear condition the child appeared in,      he reminded the darkspear of the children back home at the echo isles and his chest swells with something akin to contentment.      ❝      i was tinkin’ ya might know da way around here better than i,      ❞      the chill of lordaeron was already uncomfortably seeping into his bones      (      though he imagines that was the intended effect      ).      were it not for his stint in pandaria,      he might not have even considered the trip at this time of year.

            ❝      would ya mind humorin’ an ol’ troll for a moment?      ❞      he inquires,      doubtless to what the child’s answer might be,      ❝      i don’t want to be interferin’ too greatly wit ya trainin’.      ❞

          malkhaz sheathes the dreadblades entirely at the sound of that request, bowing his head in a nod  —  both out of respect and to signal his agreement, but also for the practicality of getting the blades, the acursed twins each almost as tall as their wielder, into their sheaths.  when he straightens up again, he speaks gladly.

“of course!  i’d be happy to guide you, sir,”  malkhaz says.  “where is it you need to be?”

at the back of his mind, he wonders how often vol’jin has been to lordaeron before or since he led the charge to save it—  an act of charity and heroism that struck the forsaken, particularly the country’s only youngling, though malkhaz had still drawn breath when the siege to take the undercity back from putress and varimathras.

[sanguinor]

@rctchild liked for a starter!

it never got easier for lor’themar to see children who had been raised for war. they were the reason that the horde fought; to maintain a future for each other. but the forsaken...

no matter which way one looked at it, the champion standing before lor’themar had died long before he had truly even gotten to live. he supposed it was fitting, in a sense, that they should be meeting here, in maldraxxus, the brutal battlegrounds of the dead.

news of the maw walker’s success had reached lor’themar’s ears soon enough, and even though calia had already set out to oribos herself, lor’themar had succumbed to his own desires and made haste for maldraxxus, leaving poor rokhan and the rest of the council behind.

the lord regent had wasted no time in setting up a portal to and from silvermoon. if the sin’dorei would ever have closure, they would need to have their souls put at ease. and if lor’themar happened to stumble upon any former comrades along the way, well...

but this? he hadn’t quite expected this. maldraxxus was a realm in disorder, plagued by a civil war and a power vaccuum, only kept from falling apart by the efforts of the maw walker before him.

“champion. it is good to see you.” that was an understatement. dead though he may have been, the champion before him was mortal and of azeroth. “how fares your journey through the shadowlands? do you require assistance?”

[rctchild]

            MALDRAXXUS  has almost earned a name as malkhaz’s heart as a fourth home of sorts.  he knows there’s even a level of permanence to such a thought —  after all, death is eternal, and maldraxxus will exist for as long as mortals die.  when he finally breathes his last, he will have to go somewhere.  if the arbiter is the beacon of wisdom that her worshippers claim, she would have the good sense to send him back here.  when she woke up.

then again, the image of foul green smoke spreading over the burning ruins of lordaeron remains fresh in his mind.  he hasn’t forgotten why he came here, stealthing between the heavily-armed ranks of the ebon blade to breach the maw and escape with his unlife.  though three of the four leaders demoned away to this place are safe, sylvanas has yet to be slain.  the jailer is seemingly inches from his freedom.  there’s work to do yet.

and he knows to report as much, when the regent lord steps through onto maldraxxus ground.  the guards at the mouth of the seat of the primus straighten their backs, but malkhaz gestures for them to relax.  he salutes to lor’themar, in the manner accepted in silvermoon.

“welcome to maldraxxus, regent lord,”  malkhaz says.  “so far, so...  expected.  sh— ...”  he remembers himself, corrects his language and amends what he was about to say.  “things weren’t going so well even before sylvanas shattered the veil.  half my time here has been spent cleaning up that mess.  beyond that, there’s more to do still.”

looking up at lor’themar, mal finds himself very aware of the difference in standing, the difference in presence.  the regent lord’s presence asserts his authority in a way that even other horde leaders’ didn’t.  the consequence of being older, wiser, well-versed in exactly this type of crap, malkhaz supposed.

“as for assistance, not direly.  but if you’ve come to help, sir, i’m certain baroness draka would know what to ask of you.”

[heljay]

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[rctchild]

          someone also remind me to post metas on forsaken children + mal and the dreadblades at some point