Well umm, I just thought it would be interesting and fun to write down some history on the formation of our guild. I don't know how much I can write atm due to me being busy in RL, but I'll try to sometimes just for the fun of it. I'll be writing the history (if I would write more) through the perspectives of Althalos, Maximus and Gaahl. And of course, when it comes to other players, I would write only how my character percieved them, and how he thinks of them and how his thoughts changed about them. Anything another player says would be something I remember him stating and thus would write it down, I wouldn't make up anything about another character ofc 
It's only things my characters went through. Well, here goes. Hope you all enjoy it.-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
He stood upon the harsh soil of the Plaguelands, running his right hand through the air in a wide arc ahead of him, slowly clenching it into a fist as his motion comes to a pause; he could sense the abundant presence of the mortals, and their endless attempts to undo his Master's work. Gazing upon what was once a thriving demeanor of undeath, a true image of the empire his Master has forged, a turmoil of rage and anger swept him from within. He would have thought that as his blade pierced an Argent's chest, to gaze upon his life being devoured, the dread in his eyes, the echoes of his dying scream... it could have wash away the anger and lust within himself, but it yet did not. He yet desired for the past.. for the great walls of Icecrown. But his failure was haunting him, the images of the Ashen Verdict's assault upon the gates of his Dark Lord yet kept looming in his mind, how he gazed upon his brethren falling; the very men which were born from the ashes, ascended beyond imagination... and descended away into nothingness. No.. he would not accept it. He would not allow it to be the end.
They believe the Dark Lord's shadow to be gone? They believe him to be defeated?! The insolence! The arrogance! The undead yet roam, half of Lordaeron is yet a visage of undeath and decay.. the whole of the Frozen Wastes yet striking fear into the hearts of any mortal which would dare to tread upon his Master's domain.
No... it is not over. We yet stand... we yet serve. Everything occurs for a reason, he thought to himself, everything occurs due to -his- will. This is not over, this is when the Dark Lord's men, his knights and guardians, are tested for their loyalty. He once swore an allegiance to his prince, to his King... In life, and in death. It would not come to an end. His Master lingers... And the Black Dawn will yet again approach. He would see to it.. he would not fail his Master... not again.
It's been a week since he has landed upon the shores of Lordaeron, two month since it has all occured; the great war of the Frozen Wastes. Treading through the mountains, he gazes through several areas; The Fungal Vale, the Noxius Glade, Plaguewood. The Eastern Plaguelands loom with the true guardians of the Dark Lord. Men and women of Lordaeron, not fallen to the sway of the false-Lich King. They are the ashes of Lordaeron, the Lingering shadows of the past, the remnants which reflect -his- Lingering shadow.
Where once it all began, it shall begin yet again. Treading through the Noxius Glade, he gazed upwards, gazing upon Acherus - The Ebon Hold. Suddenly, a lust overcame him, an ancient desire for vengeance and judgement..
Traitorous mongrels.. To denounce their King, and descend away into the ranks of mortals.. to bow down to their laws and verdicts.. Weaklings, insolent fools.. To be granted divinity, and unreluctantly waste it away to descend into a world swarmed with insects.. Yet, despite knowing their blind allegiance with the mortals and their pathetic obediance to their laws, they wonder why the Dark Lord sent them to their demise. Worthless pests.Pulling out a red orb, he peers through the glass, the shadow clouds swirling endlessly from within; the orb of illusion was intact. He would enter among their ranks, he told himself. He would gaze upon those with adequate intelligance who would come to realize the sacrilege, and the mis-conceptions of their decisions. He treaded forth into Death's Breach, and luckily for him, someone has fixed the transporter.
"I have been enlightened. I have come seeking refuge in a world where I hold no purpose. With the death of my Master, I seek another. With my will finally free... I vow to bring vengeance upon those who would threaten our existance. I seek to undo my mistakes." the words stinged him as he spoke to the anonymouse man in the saronite-plated armour. He was standing upon a corner, gazing through the once-great citadel, as this man approached him. The man asked him of who he was, and Althalos's response, the lies he spoke, kept building upon the rage within him; he would rather speak with his blade than to utter those words, it was as if he has denounced all that he stood for... but it would not last for long. The end justifies the means. It was only a mere illusion afterall... and the Ebon Blade, blind due to the return of their free will, fell victim to that.
"Then serve me. I am creating an army for Acherus. To carry the Highlord's will. Soon I will claim my title of Dread Commander. Dread commander Sytherius." The man spoke as he gazed upon the lands below from the balcony of the necropolis. Althalos felt something within him.. Sytherius was different. He was no ordinary Death Knight, Ebon Blade or not. Of course, he would not judge him as a worthy servant of the Scourge, but a abnormal case among the insects he gazed upon in that citadel, but he would not deny that he was a powerful Death Knight. He would follow him. He would see what this will lead to. He would fullfill what the Death Knight is planning, for his own ends.
"The necropolis looks identical to Naxxaramas." Althalos spoke slowly, as he gazed around, claiming as if he was too ignorant.
"It is the same interior. Same structure."
"Is that where he stood? The Lich King?" Althalos gazed upon the spot where Sytherius stood, at the edge of the balcony, at the center of it.
"Yes.. this was where we once answered to his will..." Sytherius turned around, as he treaded a few steps towards the inner parts of the Ebon Hold, coming to a stop for a moment "I shall call upon you soon...".
As the Dread Commander left, Althalos treaded slowly to where he stood... to where his Dark Lord once stood. Placing both hands on the rim of the balcony, he slowly closed his eyes. Thoughts of the past lingered through his mind.
Mi'lord... My prince... My king.. I yet stand, one amongst the many of your unrelenting crusaders... I now stand upon where you once wrought your wrath upon the living.. where you once spread the roots of havoc throughout the whole of Lordaeron.. Your will, your presence... is yet here. The order you have forged.. is yet here! We yet stand for your command, my king! For your black dawn! We yet stand... to usher in your dark command... We yet stand, to unquestionably, doubtlessly fulfill your will. We await your return my King, and we will plunge the world into oblivion for your return. We will yet carry your will... your legacy.He slowly opens his eyes, gazing upon the ruined Scarlet Enclave. Yes, this is where it will begin. Yes, this is where the hope and faith of man died, where the world was given victim to chaos. Yes, this is where the Scourge will yet again be forged...
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