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-Character Profile-
Character portrayal is up to the one that takes
up the character.
Isarang Urélith
(Nightmare)
Isarang Urelith, of the Urelith dynasty, was born centuries ago to a noble
family that resided in Beluthos in the Marakai Dimension. One of the bravest
warriors of that time, Isarang name would never be forgotten and he went down in
history as one of the only men who rode out into wars alone without any support
of a legion.
Destined to become something great, Isarang’s mind became dark and tainted with
his ego. Although forbidden by his family to go deeper within the dark lands,
Isarang went out anyway without their consent. Riding alone, Isarang went to the
dark lands but was struck after passing the border with a poison arrow.
The Archons had revealed themselves and Isarang was taken into their dark tower.
The Archons asked him of his purpose and he told them that he wants their
strength. The Archons had been looking for this opportunity and with little
hesitation Isarang sold his soul to the Archons, and Isarang was changed
forever. He was not an Archon, but he was now what common men would call a Toran.
After gaining this new power, and the forging of his sword Nightmare, he rode
back to Beluthos with his newly founded Toran army. He told his family their
beautiful son, is now but an evil spirit that walks the earth to general the
Toran army he had assembled. Isarang asked for their allegiance. To submit
themselves to the Archons and become Torans as well but instead they refused.
Isarang struck down his father first and proceeded with the rest of his family.
Isarang and his army was forced back by Achaia’s military but instead of this
force back, Isarang had taken a few normal men to his tower. With his allegiance
with the Archons, Isarang gave his mortal comrades two choices; convert or
death. Few had chose death, but majority had chose to convert, and it was then
that Isarang had made a new army called the Urelith (an army of Toran). He ruled
from his dark tower with an iron fist for centuries. When the tip of his sword
Nightmare dripped a droplet of blood onto the floor and cracked the foundation
itself, he knew it was time for his return.
* * * * * * *
Isarang remained in his throne, his red fiery eyes lurking out from his helmet’s
face guard and he looked upon his mindless Torans as they scrambled here and
there. Isarang looked upon them and he removed his helmet to reveal his long
burned but somewhat auburn hair.
“Marshall my army, the great sword Nightmare is wanting blood and that is what I
shall give it.”
He stood to his feet, the marching of his armor itself clanging against the
ground. He looked out onto the field of his Urelith and he felt a grin cross
over his lips, as he stared.
“This is just the beginning.”
If you are interested in playing this character, send an email to
The Fallen World.
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