[H][RP] Vandar bur Nevren

In a gloomy canal of Undercity, two bony figures met, their faces hidden in the shadows of their hoods.

“Death to the living!” whispered the first hood.
“Death,” a second cold voice replied, from which a smile could be heard.

Poisoned green water washed around their scrawny feet, but they didn’t seem to care. The first figure carelessly kicked aside a rat that was scurrying by, but it didn’t seem particularly impressed. As it scurried along, it heard the words “Vandar bur Nevren”, but it was a rat, after all, and couldn’t make sense of this particular phrase.

Our guild has been around for a while, alas not here, but on the now soon to be closed German RP server Celebras. As we just moved to Hydraxian Waterlords and a few people even started some alts to play in our guild, we would like to introduce ourselves. We do realize that Hydraxian Waterlords is kind of “dead” on Horde side, but as we are undead, we don’t care. World domination will be so much easier this way!

We are Vandar bur Nevren: “Enemies of life” in gutter speak (the German version: “Feinde des Lebens”) - and our name basically says it all.

As an undead role-playing guild, we strive for revenge and death in a cliché way. Of course, we especially hate humans, those despicable crusaders who hunt us Forsaken like animals. Fortunately, we are no longer humans, but have perfected ourselves through our rebirth. For this we are deeply grateful to our leader and mostly loyal. However, we have somewhat different ideas about who we should work with, because what is better about Tauren, Orcs and Trolls than Dwarves, Elves and Gnomes? Exactly! Nothing! “Death to the living” should apply universally.

Therefore, all Forsaken are welcome here. Characters can easily go about their own business and even cooperate with the living for cover. There is the possibility to join ic and (at first?) not know anything about the guild’s mission. Our ranking system reflects this. We have ic ranks only and you can join with multiple characters, should you wish to.

As a guild, we don’t treat WoW exclusively as a roleplaying environment, but also actively play the game in PVE and/or PVP, though not exclusively or primarily at Vandar bur Nevren or even on Hydraxian Waterlords. Pure roleplaying characters are welcome in our guild, as most of our RP should also be able to be conducted well in Undercity or Brill to the greatest extent possible. We also like to hang out in Shadowfang Keep to steal Arugal’s clothes, though.

Welcome are all German speaking roleplayers, who can refrain from always finding fault with the RP of others. There is no obligation to hang out in voice chat all the time or ever (we sure don’t). Since we are a roleplaying guild, we are not interested in your RL any more than you would like to reveal it. This also applies to age, gender and shoe size.

We role play exclusively in German, so unless you speak at least a little bit, it doesn’t make a lot of sense to join us, sadly. BUT fortunately, if you play Alliance, it doesn’t matter. Please just send a few (un)friendly emotes our way. We shall /doom or /glare right back at you with the greatest pleasure!

We’re a tiny guild and self-sufficient enough, but if you’re still looking for some background for your Forsaken and fancy some occasional roleplay, feel free to get in touch with Selennya or Kinrela to join! Vandar bur Nevren!

In the following NAQs (never asked questions) I’ll answer a few more questions no one has ever asked, just in case:

“Can my Tauren alt join the guild too?” - No. “But ic he’s undead and…” - Nope.

“My name is Icedealer, Deadtänk or Shadowfutzi, but I justified the name very well in my rp flag addon. May I…?” - Nope.

“Do you like to argue for hours about lore or the right way to do rp?” - No.

“I actually play Alliance, but they’re all too nice for me over there and I need to get rid of some pent up hate. May…?” - Yes.

“Are there any internal guild raids planned?” - Yes, we do raid Arugal’ closet all the time.

“I find the butterfly embarrassing. Is the tabard negotiable?” - Nope.

“I find these questions totally unfunny. Can I still join?” - Sure, but then you might suffer. A lot.

We hope to fit in well. See you in game! Vandar bur Nevren!


In another world, at another time… in another Undercity. The two figures meeting covertly in the catacombs of the Forsaken don’t look like it – but they are not from here. They are here on a mission, a very… special… mission.
“Death to the living”, they greet each other respectfully, then one asks: “You ended up here as well?”
“Yes… I prefer it this way. I think we’re gonna like it here – and spread.” A baleful grin flits across slightly moldy features.
“Well then, here we go. Kinrela has appointed me to continue our work in this… dimension. She said the Dark Lady knows about this, too.”
The other one nods. “I’ve already looked around in the city, everything is as it should be. We can build something here.”
“Excellent.” A creepy sound comes from bony fingers chafing against each other. “I hope the dwarves are as they should be, too. Filled with alcohol, so that they burn brightly, and ready to be killed.”
“Oh, Varimathras’ intelligence service already found out that allegedly some of the Schildbrecher are here.”
“Oh, really? So much the better! Then let’s introduce the chaos of the butterfly here…”
And so the two figures set out to deliver their mission – and bring the bale of the Enemies of Life upon a new world. At first just two, others will soon follow…


There he was and did as he always did: Making his patrol through Tirisfal Glades to reduce the weed that are the Scarlet Cruisade fanatics. For him there was no difference between this and the other dimension.

As a casual member of the Death Guard decisions were made by the higher ups. And they decided to spread the glory of killing all living beeings to another dimension.
He got new orders to move to the Hillbrad Foothills to support the Forsaken Cause in the name of the Dark Lady.

There was no emotion. Just the urge to serve the glorious Dark Lady that gave him his new and meaningful life - and to destroy all living beeings.
The living fight themselfes and at the end they bring nothing but destruction. At the same time they condemn fighting and destruction. Just a bunch of hypocritics.
The Dark Lady brings order into this chaos made by the living.

As long as someone is willing to support her cause he has a roll to fulfill. A personal cause and goal for your own life. Something that was missing as he was branded as a thug when he was one of the living.

Glory to the Dark Lady! And Death to the living!


Somehow this was… strange. Selennya had felt pleasure to do the Dark Lady’s and Kinrela’s bidding. To come here, and start their community anew. To establish Vandar bur Nevren, the Enemies of Life in this world, where it had not existed before. But it wasn’t all death and dominion, as it were. As she wandered through the so well-known and yet somewhat… different Brill, she pondered the question how best to form a strong, lasting fellowship out of the different Forsaken they had accepted in the last few days.
She went to the graveyard, a place where she always found something akin to what she would have called peace, had she been still alive. Brill. How often had they met here, in the Gallow’s End tavern. How nice would it be… and that was it, just like that. She would invite them, here, to come together. They would get to know each other, that was the most important thing. She and the other, older ones, could offer help. And maybe even recruit some more. Selennya nodded, and an almost-smile crossed her face – an expression she adopted from Kinrela. She hoped the mistress would be pleased.

Rotten regards! Coming Thursday, August 11th, 8pm, we meet at the tavern in Brill. Since we’re a Guild of Forsaken, Forsaken would be best, but every other Horde character is welcome to have a look, too. One thing in advance: we are, as many of you know by now, a German-speaking guild, and not everyone of us can speak English well enough for RP, so we will be speaking German. Nevertheless there are also some who can speak English, und I would like to try if and how we can merge that somehow, so that everyone’s having fun. So, folks, if you speak English, please feel invited as well – just bear with us please when an answer takes some time or something like that :slight_smile:


(post deleted by author)

1 Like

Everything seemed fine, but not everything seemed right. Some things seemed wrong indeed, changed? Best not to think about it. Or talk about it. Ever. As it did not matter. Nothing did, except the only things that had always mattered. The mission. The community. And said community needed to form an even stronger bond, to grow together. And of course, it needed to not only grow together, but grow in number. Luckily, she had Selennya for that. A meeting in Brill, soon. Just enjoying their non life, just finding a few new brothers and sisters. Spread some careful rumours beforehand, as always, about loyalty, about death. And wait. And see, who would come this time…


Beginning of an undead existence


That was all she felt. All there was. Nothing. She awoke in the darkness of a coffin, but: nothing. She scratched away at wood until it gave way to dirt, which buried her, but: nothing. She just dug through it and rose from her grave, walked the Earth, saw trees and meadows, felt wind and rain, noticed her skin beginning to rot, but still: nothing. Until there was something: a need. Not exactly in her mind, which remained in nothingness, but somewhere else, deep at the bottom of her soul. A burning need that drove her to inflict pain. To kill. Soul after soul she tortured. Life after life she eradicated. Yet nothing filled the emptiness of her mind.

Then, suddenly, a touch. A jolt. Closely followed by fathomless pain. She screamed, her mind in flames, her whole body like a raw wound suddenly ripped open. Yet she welcomed the pain, because at the same time, she felt being lifted. Something yanked her away from that terrible nothingness that engulfed her mind, from the burning need that devoured her soul, from the slavery she was forced to submit to.

For a fleeting moment, she felt free.

Then madness came. She didn’t remember much of her old life, but she still felt what she had felt back then. And what she had become, what she had done as a slave of the Scourge, was so… contrary to all she had believed in, all she had stood for in life. She couldn’t cope with that. And so madness came.

But she didn’t want to submit to the next form of slavery, even if it was impressed upon her by her own mind. She clawed her way through the madness, fought for the freedom she had already felt. In that fight her mind touched magics and worlds no sane mind could ever touch, shadow and fel alike, and hooked into them in the hope of finding a way back through them. And finally she was successful. Left the madness behind, like she had left the nothingness behind, which meant: not completely. She could feel both of them grating on her mind. The Scourge, wanting her back. The madness, lurking behind both memories and fel magic. It was a constant fight to hold them off. But that didn’t matter. She had left both behind enough that she, for the first time since she crawled out from her grave, truly awoke.

With her new awareness came a wish. She wanted a name. Her time enslaved by the Scourge was over, but it had felt endless. And endlessly she had been nothing, had been a mindless toy. What had followed hadn’t really been better. The nothingness had just been replaced by a madness so raging it had felt like being mindless all over again. And all the time she had been just a nameless thing. Never again, she swore. Never again. She wanted, no: she needed a name.

She remembered next to nothing from her old life, her first life, and most of what she did remember she buried deep inside her, lest it lead her again to madness. But there were some memories that seemed harmless enough… such as liking sounds that flowed. The name itself didn’t matter, she conceded. But it did matter, to her, that she liked the sound of it. She would have to hear it from now on every time someone called out to her, after all. Would have to bear it.

What she also remembered was everything that had happened in her second, her undead life. Everything about the Scourge. Everything she had done. And she remembered the very beginning. Crawling out of her grave. Her eyes flitting across the stone that marked it. She remembered exactly how it looked like and what symbols it wore, without perceiving their meaning. There was nothing in her enslaved mind back then that would have been able to. But she remembered the sight, and it was there even now, clear as day, in her mind. And now, free of the Scourge and free of madness, she understood. Perceived the letters for what they were, the faded, in part vanished ones at the top, all the way down to the freshly hewn at the bottom. She couldn’t help realizing the meaning of these last ones – but she chose to ignore them. They represented a name that was given to her by someone else. Maybe not given like somebody would name a toy… but given nonetheless, without a choice on her part.

Even more important was: it was part of her old life. She didn’t mind a name that had a connection to her past, on the contrary, that thought had a certain appeal – but her old name, that meant clinging to something that was gone. Chafed away bit by bit to nothing in the time she had spent as a slave of the Scourge. Her old name would just serve as a reminder: to what she had lost, for even without acknowledging it she still felt that loss, and to what she had had to endure.

She wanted a new name, one she chose, thus showing, if only to herself, that she wasn’t anybody’s toy anymore, and that she was done with having no choice. She contemplated the letters she saw on that gravestone in her mind, forming names that belonged to her ancestors. Little did she care about them, but it seemed somehow appropriate using them to create something that was hers. She let them sink in, and after a while, something crystallized out of them. Something that flowed. Something she liked.

This was her new life. And her new name, she decided, was Selennya.


I was human, once. Many lifes ago. It is hard to count. Death. Undeath. What is it, really, if nothing is final? I was a slave to the lich king twice. And twice I fought for my own will. Twice I failed. Twice I escaped his icy grip, cold as death, but not of my own strength, no. I had help, twice.

The living will never understand. How could they? Even other Death Knights couldn’t. Returning heros, in a way. They can’t understand death, undeath, slavery, not the way I can. Nobody can. Except the Forsaken. They understand. They forgive. They welcome me back, us back, with open arms. And so does Vandar bur Nevren.

“Brother”, they call me. And for that, I shall do anything. Kill anything, that is, obviously. For what else is there?


What would you ask of death?

A gentle breeze blew across the grass. The Hillsbrad foothills were quiet. Except for occasional cries of death and help. Silently and stoically Gerbrecht went about his task: decimate the living. There was neither joy nor hate in his thoughts. Feelings had no place in his unlife. This weakness was reserved for the living.

With the last visible pawn stripped of his life and no other guard in sight, Gerbrecht allowed himself a moment’s pause. He had expected the so-called heroes of the Alliance to react and hinder his quest. But there was no sign of these heroes anywhere.

That’s how the living are: looking only for their own benefit and fleeing if they can’t solve their problems on their own. What a “nice” alliance. At this thoughts he had to laugh out loud.

But that suits the Dark Lady’s plans! For Sylvanas! And death to the living!


Guys? Hey, guys? I was just thinking: What are we even doing fighting against everybody. We should all just be friends. I know I have been saying this, but listen. Don’t you look at me like that! I just like the living. We just have to tell humans we are not slaves of the grumpy evil king anymore and everything will be fine. We can all be friends! It will be fun! Hey! Why are you all ignoring me AGAIN! Fine, I’ll just go pick some flowers. Maybe if I give them to some living person, we can be friends. Or do you want some? Fine. Be like that! Would have been very pretty ones, though!


*Dashes out of the shadows in cat form*

*Rubs head against Kreknas leg, purring lovingly*

*Runs off again, dissapearing back into the shadows*


So i am not the only one who is dead here .

You look dead, but so do we all. I might have news for you: If you are talking, you are likely not dead, but undead…

Requests from the Royal Apothecary Society brought the priest to Kalimdor. Even if the land is wide and barren, life is strong and annoying. To support her case she keeps taking on quests for members of the Horde. She prefers to take quests for killing. A life is a life. And death to the living!

Sometimes she comes across other adventurers of the Horde. And often these adventureres have minor or major injuries which she is eager to heal. That is her occupation.
She is weaving the shadows to force the leg of a Troll Warrior to heal. And subtly poisoning his flesh to make it rot from the inside. Keep them alive to make use of them. With a fake smile she encourages the Troll to fight again. He is her meat shield against the forces of centaurs. Should he exhaust his energy. And in the end when all the foes are dead the Troll can die.

As the Troll Warrior targets his next enemy an ugly smile disfigures her face.
Victory for Sylvanas! And death to the living!


Kinrela ballanced a pile of letters in her arms, careful not to drop any on her way to post them. Counting them, she nodded to herself. There should be enough to some brothers and sisters, not too few, not too many, for an expedition to this new continent.

It was high time the Enemies of Life made an appearance there. New lands. Unknown lands. Dangerous lands. If some of the living adventurers died mysteriously, who would even spare a second thought? And the fight against the slaver calling hinself king couldn’t be forgotten either…


Viola looked in the mail and fished out a letter addressed to her.
Carefully, she unfolded the letter. A message from her master.

To Northrend was Kinrela going, with the enemies of life?

She nodded slightly, with an evil grin. She had business to attend to in Northrend anyway. With her OTHER, former master.
And if a few living ones would breathe their last in the process… all the better.

Hastily, she began to make a list in her mind of things she had to do beforehand…


The undead rogue enters the room, and looks around searchingly

Has anyone seen a gnome here? Somewhat older, male?

Not that I’m looking for him. or anything… so, not to visit. or talk. or accompany. shakes head

i am just curious, if he made it out of Undercity alive nods


Selennya was a bit grumpy. Well, there were those who would have said – although maybe not to her face – that she was always a bit grumpy, so let’s say: grumpier than usual. She didn’t mind the somewhat loose rib in her ribcage. Nor did she mind the occasional finger falling off now and then. Minor nuisances, really, and easily fixed, even without Myrielle – not the new one, the other she knew so well, who now dwelled the shadows might know where –, or in case of the rib: just ignored. She had lived the undead life long enough that these things happened. Fresh undead were, well, fresh. Undead like her… needed replacements from time to time. Nothing to worry about.

But now her eyesight was failing. And that was more than a minor nuisance. She couldn’t complain about this very loud, because there were a number of undead who didn’t have any and got along just fine, like Salienne, another undead she knew and lost, but: she didn’t understand how they were doing it! She couldn’t go about her business without seeing anything!

That needed to be dealt with, and soon.


The street is a formidable teacher – if you are willing to listen to her.

She guides your steps.

She provides shelter.

She nourishes you.

She sends company.

She keeps you alive.

That’s what Grandfather had told us.

One day, something changed. At first, it was almost imperceptible. Like a slight ripple in the water or a soft whisper in the air. Or a tiny crack in the stone. Then the stone suddenly broke apart.

It began with the people who showed up to share the street with us. We didn’t like it but had learned fast enough that no one cared about our opinion. These newcomers brought stories, ridiculous stories of the dead rising from their graves. Stories to scare children but we were long past scaring. Still, the street had taught me to observe, so I detected real fear in the eyes and voices of the storytellers. Whatever they had seen – it had greatly disturbed them. With time the trickle of refugees started to become a flood. The street groaned under the pressure of so many, unable to provide anything any longer. The golden prince rode forth to deal with the undead scourge but the bad news kept coming in. One day, our king spoke to us all at the great square and promised that the Light would protect us. The crowd cheered but I knew he was lying. Grandfather had always said to never trust a crowned head. And then, they finally came …

… a great emptiness. Dark and cold. He called us ‘His Great Army’ but in reality we were lower than rats, insects and cockroaches. We were no more than a mere tool.

When the Dark Lady and her followers reached out to me, I kept the mind from my street times and the body from the dark and cold times. I had no eyes but I could see better than ever. I had no heart but had never felt more invigorated. We called ourselves “the Forsaken” but we were more gifted than anyone else. We had been given a second chance. And I decided to grab it. My feet still knew how to follow the street but I wasn’t an outsider any longer. It didn’t matter what we had done in our lives, everyone had their uses in service of the Dark Lady. I became a collector of secrets and learned how to feed them to the right sources. That was how I discovered and joined a group of Forsaken who desired to do more than to simply struggle on.

This group is called Vandar bur Nevren – which means “Death to the Living”. We don’t discriminate. The Humans who hunt us are equal to the Orcs and Trolls who call themselves our allies. They all despise and distrust us. But not much longer.

The Dark Lady watches over us.

She guides our steps.

She provides shelter.

She nourishes us.

She sends company.

She keeps us … undead.

Grandfather has been a wise man after all. I wonder where he might be now.