Ambrose Silas Corvington

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==Name==
Ambrose Silas Corvington
(Alias) Ambrose Arbridge
Known within the Dark Embrace as "Silas"
==Physical Traits==
Physical Appearance 6ft (187cm) Tall
9ft (274 cm) in Worgen form
Well built and Muscular for a conjurer.
Projected Appearance: Dark Skin, Dark Hair, Chiseled Cheekbones. Hazel Eye, flecked with green..
Physical Mutations - Hidden by Illusions
Thick Fel Green Scales cover his left arm, from Clawed fingers up over his shoulder, chest and overhalf his throat to his jaw.
When the scales flex and move a fel green glow, and occasionally mist of escaping energy can be seen between and underneath them. Both his hands have morphed into thick claws.
Right Eyelid Split, scar runs to eyebrow. His Right Eye has been ripped out leaving an empty socket.
Deep within the sockets shadow and shadowmist swirl. A spark of bright green fel glows in the depths, moving like a pupil.
Tattoo's/Piercings. Intricate Runes burned into his palms. (Hidden)
A Delicate Black tattoo of two snakes on his chest. (Hidden)
Thick black tattoo's cover his Torso, weaving from his throat to his waist, and upon completion will cover his back, arms and shoulders. Within these are lines of raised scar-tissue, emphasising the shape of the decoration.
==Race and Class==
Worgen Warlock
Publicly Known as Human Mage
==Guild==
The Dark Embrace
==Occupation==
Shadowcaster, Fel-user, Demonic Ritualist, Whiskey Enthusiast.
==Family==
None Surviving
==Background==
Born Ambrose Silas Corvington, Fourty-Five years ago, Only Son of a Tailor and a Harvest Witch.
Apprenticed as a Mage at the City of Dalaran as a Child.
Travelled Quel'Thalas to spend three Seasons as a Scholar with the High Elves.
Veteran of the Second War. Held the Line at Dalaran.
Left the Order of the Kirin Tor under unspecified circumstances to return to Gilneas.
Sealed behind Greymanes Wall for twenty-five years.
Gilnean Records Show:
Wife - Jennie Faith Arbridge - Desceased
Daughter - Selina Dawn Corvington - Deceased
==Family Background==
Modest.
==Criminal Record==
Wanted criminal, Silas's Presence at a number of high profile incidents, as well as a string of attacks has brought Silas to the attention of the authorities.
Assault/Attack of Marieth Harris
Linked to a cell of criminals behind the famine of Stormwind and destruction of the Harvest.
Murder of an Innkeeper in Surwich
Arson - destruction of an Inn in Surwich
Use of Shadow and Demonic Rituals
Highly corrupted by Fel
Expelled from both Dalaran University, and Banished from the City following a war-crimes trial in the aftermath of the Second war.
==Personal Notes==
Some stuff.
==Current Status==
Free....
Extensive Background and Stories:
Ambrose blinked slowly in the morning light. Pushing himself to sit on the edge of the bed he peered out the window.
Even from the pokey accomodation afforded to him in the city he was high enough to see the devastation. The City rolled out before him, towers and purple eaves of the buildings, Smoke billowing here and there from the last of the fires.
He ran a hand through his raven hair which fell loosely around his shoulders. Tugging on his robe he stood to stand by the window, leaning on the sill and peered down. The dawn was rising causing the the light stone of the towers to gleam, Beyond in the distance the rolling green of hillsbrad curled away towards Alterac.
Glancing down he could see movement. Even this early the battlemages were patrolling. Ambrose smirked, stuffing a hand into a pocket inside his robe retrieving a half crushed leather roll. Inside it were a number of cigarettes hand rolled the night before. An interesting blend of tobacco, felweed and Bloodthistle. He'd have to thank Eldaran'th for the latest delivery, It had been too long since he had last visited Quel'thalas.
Setting the cigarette between his teeth Ambrose conjured a small flame in the palm of his hand. He lit the cigarette, blowing out a stream of the heady pungent smoke. He glanced down at the flame, frowning. Within the flickering fire something darker swirled and danced, Shadow tainting its edge. 
Ambrose snapped his hand closed with a grunt. Scratching at the stubble forming on his jaw. Three hours before he was due in front of the Council. They would be congratulating the fighters, mourning the lost and rewarding the heroes.
He closed his eyes groaning as his head hung forwards. Shaking the fuzzy cloud that was settling on his mind from the effects. Turning his head he peered at the carefully tailored suit. It had arrived from Gilneas a few months previous. His mother still contacted him now and again - the Suit undoubtably his fathers work - had been ordered under a different guise. It was the last gift sent. It had been years since his father had even looked at him, let alone spoken to his only surviving child.
Ambrose leaned his forehead on the cold stone of the windowsill, vaguely aware of voices outside the corridor. To early for such a racket. The voices and footsteps stopped, there was a vicious rapping on the door, the sound of a staff being hammered against the ancient woodwork.
"Ambrose Corvington!" The voice demanded. He swore under his breath.
"It's not even dawn. !@#$ off and come back after breakfast."
The sound of muffled voices continued outside before falling silent. Ambrose sighed heavily as peace returned.
A mere matter of moments passed before there was an earsplitting roar, and a crash echoed around the small stone room, as the door was blasted from its hinges, hitting the wall and demolishing the bookcase and the fine suit.
Ambrose yelled in shock, leaping away from the wreckage and stumbling. He squinted at the doorway through the dust. Two Battlemages stood in their glorious raiment, between them little Marieth Harris smirked.
"Archmage Cedric has demanded an audience." She glances towards the battlemages "Bring him." her tone sharp, before she vanished back down the corridor.
The two magi advanced on Ambrose as he stumbled to his feet, backing away. Each grasped an arm holding him firmly, a sense of cold frost ran down his spine as they emblazoned a rune on the back of his neck, nullifying any mage.
Ambrose squirmed between them, digging his heels against the stone and the bed as they attempted to march him from the room. earning him a swift crack around the head. 
He gasped at the sudden pain, his head snapping forwards, hot sticky blood oozing from the injury, running slowly through his hair, plastering it to his face. Feet trailing over the flagstones Ambrose was dragged from the accomodation tower.
The slightly pink to yellow sandstone cobbles hammered against his toes, burning pain in his shoulders as he was dragged, unable to get his feet, instead falling limp to be carried by his captors.
The bright morning Sunshine made the city glow. Ambrose closed his eyes against it, before becoming horribly aware of whispered words, a few distant shouts and the running of people towards him. People were rousing, and those already awake were making sure that no-one missed the sight of the Third class mage, due for promotion, being dragged through the city streets.
He risked a look up, The Kirin flags fluttered in the breeze, almost as if watching his progress with the grand golden eyes. He glanced around, The crowd was swelling, lining the roads, whispers smirks, visitors and students. Shopkeepers running to stand in their doorways to watch the procession. 
Ambrose mumbled a soft "No..." as he saw her. Seventeen years old, her red hair and blue eyes watching him with horror. Jennie stepped out in front of the battlemages, trying to reach him.
Ambrose closed his eyes, unable to watch as she was roughly pushed aside. Demanding to know what was going on, where were they taking him, they couldnt do this he had fought for them. 
The battlemages paused. One drawing up to their full height, his deep booming voice rolling over the crowd.
"Ambrose Corvington, stands accused of corruption, shadow magic, and crimes against prisoners in a time of war. He will be detained for questioning until further notice"
Ambrosed sagged forwards, opening his eyes enough to see his own shadow cast on the stones beneath him, strands of hair at least hiding his face from view. Jennie fell silent as the Battlemage spoke. Everyone did, the city had never been so quiet. And then, the whispering rose, turning to shouts and yells, roars of fury, insults and abuse.
Warlock, Monster, Corrupter, Demon, Filth, Scum, Weakling, the mob bayed for the blood of the fallen mage, words tearing at him like curved claws, ripping his reputation to shreds until nothing but tatters remained.
The light stone gave way to the cool dark of the tunnel down to the sewers and the undercity. The crowd dispersing as new guards came to hold them back.
Weaving through the tunnels Ambrose remained silent and limp in the grip of the magi. A heavy door was pulled open. Inside it was empty, save for shackles on the floor over a small metal grill over a drain. On a raised dias there was a long table, sat behind hit was Archmage Cedric, Marieth Harris to his right, and a number of his particuar "Favourites"
The magi released him suddenly, his legs still trailing behind them he crashed to his knees, a ragged grunt of pain at the impact. Others stepped from the shadows, securing his hands in the shackles, holding him on his knees above the grate.
"Ambrose Corvington. Do you know why you have been called here today?"
"No Sir."
"A a liar to boot, or perhaps a short memory Hmm? You are here Ambrose because we of the Kirin cannot turn a blind eye to the actions of one of our own. Cannot stand idly by and excuse the calling of shadow, use of corrupt arcane, "Fel" Ambrose. We are not as blind as you would think."
Archmage Cedric rubbed the bridge of his nose frowning at Ambrose.
"Torture Corvington, Even those monsters don't deserve what you did."
Breathing rapidly, a proud smirk flashed over Ambrose's features - memories replaying in his mind, the battle for the city, the coursing power of the shadow and fel as its bolts tore through the advancing ranks, and the righteous satisfaction as the captives screamed and howled in the night, unhuman, beastly noises that mingled in the air with Ambroses own roar of victory.
"Everything I did, I did for Dalaran."
Archmage Cedric stepped across the floor, crouching down to peer at Ambroses features, He roughly grabbed his neck, forcing his head up. Whispering his voice low and threatening.
"You face Lashes and public Execution Ambrose. Was it worth it?"
The Archmage roughly shoves Ambrose's head down, taking a step back, nodding to someone in the back of the room.
Ambrose roared in pain, the arcane bolt lashing across his back, the robe splitting as if cleaved, a red welt of raised skin forming over his spine.
"Ah Ambrose, It doesnt have to be like this you know."
The second lash hit with the same force as the first, drawing blood where it crossed the first. His shoulders tense trying to curl his arms in, wrenching at the shackles chaining him to the floor.
The third and fourth lashes fall, no sound in the room bar the hiss as the spells flew, and the ragged grunting breaths of Ambrose as they landed.
Archmage Cedric raised a hand, halting the process.
"We know there were others Corvington. All you have to do, is tell us, and all this will go away."
Ambrose laughed softly.
"Why would I do that? Everything I did was for Dalaran, I should be a hero. All is fair in Love and War they say. No-one tells you afterwards you have to account for what you did, for what had to be done but no-one else would rise to do. Why would I help you? Leave the others within the city, they'll be there when you need them next"
Ambrose's back arches, yelling out in pain as the fifth strike falls.
"I See. Well this is a pity. But still, we all do what we must..." The Archmage smirks, Marieth behind him taking notes, with barely concealed glee. "What we must for the safety. Of Dalaran."
Cedric raises a hand beckoning.
"For the safety of those we care about."
Behind Ambrose the door was hauled open, a commotion outside, shrill yells and protests, the shaking yet furious voice of a young woman screaming at the battlemage restraining her. The racket continued as she was dragged in, and the door slammed behind her, bolts shooting into place securing it.
The woman is forced onto her knees beside Ambrose, Pinned down out of reach. She yells and protests, eventually falling to wracking fearful sobs.
Her long red hair tumbling over her back and shoulders, blue eyes wide with fear and confusion.
"Ah, thank you for Joining us Jennie. I rather hope you'll be able to assist us in persuading Corvington here to aid our investigations." 
The Archmages voice is light and almost singsong in tone, as if they were all sat in the walled garden of the Inn trying to pursuade Ambrose that the red-wine would be a better choice.
One of the battlemages step forwards grasping the back of Ambrose's neck, Forcing him to look at Jennifer Arbridge. The other stands over the terrified woman, grinning at Ambrose. The arcane curls around his fingertips, before hurling a lance of energy towards her back.
She screams, the shrill noise echoing around the room before she falls forwards sobbing, a line marking her pale skin.
Ambrose writhes against the chains, barely able to watch. Two more lashes fall before he finds his voice. '..Enough.'
Archmage Cedric laughs. "So easily persuaded" Gesturing towards the door, Jennie's sobbing form is dragged from the cell.
"Webster Howard, Elzabell Cole..."
"We already have Cole in custody, Howard is under investigation, Perhaps then you don't know anything useful. Pity. In that case Ambrose Silas Corvington I am required to inform you that you shall suffer fifty lashes, and be hanged publicly by the neck as a warning to others of the dangers of corr-"
Ambrose's head snaps up, staring at the room of people as the sentence is read to him.
"W-Wait."
"Hmm?"
"There is another, But I want my freedom, and Jennie's."
"A pretty high demand - why would this one be so valuable?"
"Because she's the one instructing. A Nethermancer. I watched her tear a void in a beserker before he was in fifty paces of her."
The archmage arches an eyebrow, Gesturing to the guard to remove Ambrose's shackles. Behind him Marieth bursts out in a stream of protest, objecting venomously to his release, crying warnings of how dangerous and treacherous he is. The Archmage raises a hand and she falls Silent.
"The Name Corvington."
"Evangaline Hart"
Cedric nods slowly. The battlemages leave instantly. The rune dispersing from Ambrose's neck.
"Everything for the City Hmm? Take Jennie and get out - the pair of you shall be executed at sundown should you still be within the city."
Ambrose offers a stiff formal bow. Turning on his heel sweeping from the cells. His freedom bought with the throat of another - All loyalty, all pride, Gone. Career destroyed as was Jennies. All he had now, was to return Home. To Gilneas.
Category:Characters
Category:Alliance
Category:Worgen
Category:Mage