|“||He vowed that to his final day, he will reap the souls of the senile and expiring.||”|
–Unknown, Tirisfal region
Bishop Mortis was the former name of Pater Mortemyr. A living and proud bishop of Lordaeron. He called together the priests and citizens every week for a preaching, before dismissing them with a happy face.
Mortis' childhood was not an easy one. He usually was pestered by his schoolmates, being a slim and small child that he was. He had more or less bad grades in school, except in the lesson of Lightlearning, as he called it. The children learned of the Light and its power, and soon knew to serve it well. On other days, he was heavily punished for breaking his house's rules, pinned to his wall. Those were as follows:
- You are not to question the existence of the Light.
- You are not to keep your room untidy.
- You are not to burp and fart whilst or after eating.
- You are to remain silent upon a person talking.
The family not following these rules were punished akin to that. Mainly Mortis was punished, as he was a rather untidy child until he learned to keep it as it is, and cleaned his room as he was ordered to. He was soon a more and more religious person, striving to follow his house's rules just as tightly as the other rules he learned.
Growing to become a teenager, Mortis decided to join the church of Lordaeron, as an acolyte. He was used to lighting up the candles in the enormous chapel, and was ordered to do so before every ceremony. Over his aging and hitting the age of Sixteen, he became a lector. He was reading from the Holy Book and performed ceremonies himself over the course of his age, soon impressing the church he served.
Just as he hit his adulthood , 24, he became a pastor of the chapel, and taught the now-Acolytes their jobs and uses. Over his time he cultivated a faint beard, but nothing too major. He cultivated his face appropriately and braided his hair. He donned a white robe, two pauldrons and a nice mitre to fit his attire. Along with a staff, he already had learned his abilities of a priest, and knew how to use them fully.
Over the time of his duty, he grew older. Over his age, his hair started to lose its former color of blond and grew matte. His braids went uneven. He grew to the rank of Bishop, along with himself being now a fully experienced priest.
The Scourge of LordaeronEdit
A dark day. The sky was bright, nonetheless. Arthas marches back into Lordaeron, the people praising his arrival. The only person not as happy was Mortis, knowing something was out of the ordinary. Where was his armor? What is wrong with his aura? Why is he wearing this sword? He discarded the questions and moved back to the chapel. Only a few minutes later, the crowd once praising the prince suddenly screamed in fear. Mortis returns from his chapel, running. He enters the Throne Room, seeing Terenas on the ground, impaled by his son. The old Bishop has no words to speak, but instead runs back to the chapel, and to the gardens to calm himself and preach a few words with the citizens that followed. He soon noticed a band of skeletal beasts rushing for him, the citizens dispersing in quick runs. Mortis raises his staff, shooting forward two bolts of light to destroy the bone-constructs. Only, in the distance looming, is an abomination waiting for him. It runs towards him, ignoring the faint attempts of light magic to stagger it back. It charges forward and rams its giant cleaver into his shoulder, dislocating the bone and tearing apart his flesh. A ghoul starts to shamble to the gasping man, snarling as he starts to tear apart the bishop. Mortis soon bleeds out.
Soon after he was buried, he rose from his grave. His bones crack heavily. He only sees a val'kyr around, flying to the graves and raising undead. He looks at himself, noticing his lack of flesh. His bones are heavily exposed, his body torn apart. His loincloth covers his body. He removes it, simply. He hunches to the crypt, looking inside on what is inside. Slightly shocked, he finds a gardening scythe and takes it. He sharpens it on a sharpening stone in the town of Deathknell. He swore to himself, he would end the misery of the living as his misery was ended. He swore to himself, to become the reaper of the living, a grim persona to reap the souls of the forgotten and old. He now chose to bear the name "Pater Mortemyr", "Pater Mortem". He chose both of these names and now roams Tirisfal for a soul to be reaped. His anger burns deeply inside, but he does not care for his problems anymore. He now only wants to end their misery.
Mortemyr uses various items. Here are some of them listed:
- His Scythe: Stolen from the old farm nearby a bridge in Tirisfal. His primary weapon.
- Shadow magic: He uses shadow magic to create illusions of himself, and often announces his coming with a flock of crow-illusions.
- "Anima-fur": A soul gem used to store the souls of his lost victims. It is attached to his scythe and is a power-surge. The souls are freed periodically when they are not needed.