[BH] IC: Saying the Words

[Sol]

"I, <name>, hereby pledge my undying soul, before my peers and by the Shadow Forgotten, to the service of our savior in all Her eternal majesty,
Queen Sylvanas the First and Only, the rightful ruler of Lordaeron and Lady Protector of our Forsaken people.
I will, with utmost Respect, heed Her decrees, follow and enforce Her laws, and safeguard the sanctity of Her glorious reign.
I shall, with wholehearted Tenacity, punish Her enemies, both foreign and domestic, and abide no treason against Her honored name.
And I commit, with all my Power, to seeing Her great domain of Lordaeron strengthened and secured anew, on this day and for all days to come.
This I vow, and may my Dark Lady's justice find me swiftly should I falter."

-The Reaper's Words

Words have power if you assign them power. And sometimes, words can be binding. To make a pledge, to swear an oath, is to wilfully subordinate yourself to the sounds coming out of your mouth, to promise to bend your being and your actions around some thing or another that you've said. You can live by words if you choose to. They can shape your life if you let them.

Once upon a time, oaths were the glue that held fragile kingdoms firmly together, but times are changing faster than anyone could have ever anticipated. Still, even in this changing, turbulent world, they retain great symbolic importance - be it the mendicant cleric who swears off material pleasures, the knight who pledges to protect the innocent, or the public servant who promises, with fingers crossed behind his back, to always serve the best interests of those he represents. And whether this oath in particular is a confining restriction, a couragous vow or a craven grab for undeserved legitimacy on the Black Harvest's part remains to be seen.

The Reaper's Words first held power when Jared Richter knelt before an altar and said them aloud. When Elias Longshadow held them sacred before the Shadow, they became binding. The text of the oath itself was determined between the two men, the ceremony in which it was first uttered meticulously planned in advance, a spectacle designed to inspire the troops to follow the example set. Whether it worked - or whether it didn't - is hard for any but those individuals who listened to say, but the fact remains thus. Mere words on a page, ink on paper, fussed over and redrafted to no end, became the proclamation of a holy bond when simply spoken in the right surroundings.

The decrepit chapel at the island hold of Shadesfell is said to be a place where the prophet of the Forgotten Shadow, Bishop Natalie Seline, experienced some great revelation that laid a foundation stone for the faith. It's been decided that this place above many others is, indeed, 'the right surroundings', and a window of opportunity has been opened to the Reapers of the Black Harvest. They, too, can say their words. They can be initiated into the order anew as sworn brothers and sisters. They can pledge their souls to a cause for eternity, and not simply pledge their actions to it for weeks, months, years. It is frequently said in certain circles of Forsaken that Lordaeron is eternal, undying, and it stands to reason therefore that service to it - to Her - should be equally long-lasting, don't you agree?

Words have power if you assign them power. They can shape your life if you let them.

A Spectacle

Spoiler:

Jared lowers himself slowly onto one knee, setting his helmet down before him. He spends a moment to straighten his posture perfectly before he sets his hammer in front of him. He holds his warhammer precisely, haft upright with the head pressed against the stone, shoulders squared and head reverently lowered. The pose, come to think of it, strikes as eerily reminiscent to that taken by various statues of Uther Lightbringer you might have seen.

Elias and Lendri are staring down at him, intent, expectant, patient. There a woman he cares for like a sister, and a man who cares for him like a father. Priests. Clerics. Shadow and Light. He takes a deep, needless breath, confines it as best he can in his chest for a moment. Just say the words, Richter. Shadows know you've said them enough in your head.

" . . . I, Jared Jonas Richter, hereby pledge my undying soul, before my peers and by the Shadow Forgotten . . . "

Behind him, he can hear shuffling feet, the scratch of the wooden legs of pews on stone floors. They rise for the occasion. As expected. Don't let them down now.

". . . to the service of our savior in all Her eternal majesty, Queen Sylvanas the First and Only. The rightful ruler of Lordaeron and Lady Protector of our Forsaken people." He speaks in a monotone that's no less firm and decisive for its lack of emotional inflection - moreso, perhaps, for its cold conviction - and just loud enough for everyone else in the building to hear.

"I will, with utmost Respect, heed Her decrees, follow and enforce Her laws, and safeguard the sanctity of Her glorious reign." He flexes his claws on the haft of his hammer, fists tightening around the leatherbound handle. And Her reign's the most sacred thing I know.

"I shall, with wholehearted Tenacity, punish Her enemies, both foreign and domestic, and abide no treason against Her honoured name." His head lifts just barely as though to peer up at Lendri and Elias, tattered eyelids narrowing over empty sockets.

The Reverend stares back under the long shadow of his hood. Now say it true, Richter. For them all to hear.

"And I commit, with all my Power, to seeing Her great domain of Lordaeron strengthened and secured anew - on this day, and for all days to come.

The pause feels like an eternity all in its own.

" . . . This I vow, and may my Dark Lady's justice find me swiftly should I falter."

Longer. Longer still. The words hang in the dead air of the dead chapel for lifetimes, until the Reverend's voice carries forth resonantly from beneath his hood.

"Rise, Jared Jonas Richter, Executor of the Black Harvest." There's a smile, there, in his tone, and it makes Jared want to smile too. "You have much to do, and your hands are sworn as idle never again." He tries his best, for a moment, but nothing more than an awkward twitch stirs in his cheek.

He smoothly upturns his mace and holds it in one hand under the head as he rises. Bowing his head once more to the Reverend Father, he slowly shuffles around to face the Harvest and hefts his hammer into the air once more.

And then the dead air comes alive with a chorus of booming voices.

"We praise Sylvanas!"

"We praise Sylvanas!"

"The King is dead, long live the Queen!"

"The King is dead, long live the Queen!"

"The King is dead, long live the Queen!"

Jared advances down between the pews, hammer held high, his steps carrying him powerfully forwards. He feels like the whole world couldn't weigh him down. And it can try. Bloody hell, it can try . . .

"The King is dead, long live the Queen!" Movement ripples across the assembled Reapers on either side of him, spreading further back the further he strides. Some snap rigid salutes. Some throw their arms up in celebration. A couple of them, he saw, even sank to respectful kneels of their own with his passing.

In the corner of his lack of eye he catches a sight of the witch. Zalthiel merely tilts her head at the spectacle, face unseen under her cowl. Her ghoul companion, meanwhile, caws and chirps away cheerfully. Hah. At least he's happy for me.

Jared turns to face his fellows just shy of the door, shakes his hammer triumphantly in the air, and the shouting resumes anew.

Currently Sworn In

Spoiler:

• Executor Jared Richter
  
• Adjutant Eva Somerley
  
• Adjutant Malachai
  
• Inquisitor Varius Cain
  
• Inquisitor Apostasy
  
• Senior Deathguard Lobelia Falkenrath
  
• Deathguard Matthias Renault
  
• Deathguard Nathaniel
  
• Deathspeaker Bastius
  
• Senior Deathspeaker Lindsey Autumn Lendri Sylvian
  
• Deathguard Orion Dinthos Ordin
  

OOC

Spoiler:

So here it is, the oath. Much spoken of, rarely spoken! There's been a lot of buildup towards people taking their oaths IC, so I figured it was about time I made a post about it detailing the process of the ceremony.

The story up there is dramatised from in-game logs of Jared taking the oath, altered a little to be told as a narrative from his perspective. It details the process pretty concisely - the aspirant kneels before the altar with their weapon or tool of choice presented before them and a certified cleric of the Shadow standing over them above the steps. They recite the oath (normally, Jared or one of the Adjutants should be stood over them with a hand on their shoulder, either murmuring the words to them or letting them recite it from memory) and then, once finished, the presiding cleric announces them with:

"Rise, <full name>, <rank> of the Black Harvest.
You have much to do, and your hands are sworn as idle never again."

The cleric then yells "We praise Sylvanas!"*, to be echoed by the oathtaker, and those assembled to watch the ceremony are encouraged to greet the shouts with the Black Harvest's traditional "The King is dead, long live the Queen!" The oathtaker strides down between the pews with their weapon held high while this occurs before turning to regard those assembled when they reach the door. There, they can speak whatever's on their mind if they so choose. The ceremony is considered over when they turn and exit.

As a fun fact, while the oath was indeed drafted and redrafted, the ceremony was almost entirely adlibbed between myself and LostStranger. Everyone just started hollering 'The King is dead, long live the Queen' afterwards of their own accord, and now it's become tradition. :P

. . . and in case anyone's wondering where the 'We praise Sylvanas' slogan comes from . . .


A ceremony can take place IC when Jared, Malachai or Somerley are present alongside a cleric of the Forgotten Shadow who knows how to conduct it. Alternatively, if you so choose, you can talk to me and we can agree that the swearing-in happened off-screen, but pssh, don't be boring. :P

Oh, and it might also be worth noting that IC promotions beyond the Aspirant rank only occur now once Jared has extracted the oath from the person in question. He's become particular like that. Anyway, direct any further questions or concerns you have to me in-game or on Skype.

Cheers guys!
Sol <3

[Sol]

. . .
"I've heard it be said Forsaken are made, not born to be unafraid.
From failure, from scorn. Forsaken need not be paid, to be unafraid. ... I stand with the Lady, the servant of Shadow's will... to be unafraid."

" . . . It was brave of you to speak those words, Deathspeaker Bastius.
He may not be welcome behind the walls of our settlements, but Deathspeaker Bastius has become Forsaken today. Treat him as your brother."

"Our brother!"
"Our brother!"
"Our brother!"
"Our brother!"

Bastius looks over each shoulder. His mouth is drawn, eyes wide. He finally looks back to Jared. A small smile crooks those weathered, leathery lips.

"Fear is for the enemy!"
"Death is for the living!"
"Weakness is for those who do not walk the Shadow's path!"

. . .