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Welcome to the Warden's Asylum (Ask Thresh)

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Warden of Wards

Senior Member


The Amoeba:
The Summoner did not flinch, or pull back, although either response would be appropriate when faced with the Warden's scrutiny. She did reach up to adjust her hood where the skeletal hand had brushed against it, ensuring her face remained hidden in shadows, using the motion to mask a shiver.

"Ah, we're not talking about me, remember, my dear Thresh?" How her voice hid the quiver that was certainty there was a mystery. "I've no intention of adding to your collection any time soon. Although I do wonder... if you would recognize someone who wielded you often on the field? How would you react to a Summoner who favoured you? Would you hate them?"

((Ah, no, it was an Avengers reference. What is Iron Man without the suit? Tony Stark, genius, playboy, billionaire, philanthropist?))

The Warden stood in slight bewilderment as the pompous woman casually strode into his abode without so much as a flinch or hint of trepidation. His grin turns to a frown and follows her, shutting the door behind her.

"I see no fairer respect or disgust nor shall not deign to give them such attention as to have an opinion or even notice their presence. All are equal in the eyes of torment....my eyes. They will suffer as you shall...All are equal." He states, scrutinizing every movement she makes in his domain. "...Unless they make a specific example of irritation unto me....such as seeking me out and gasping for my audience for their depraved pathetic little reality...."

Thresh crosses his arms over his chest while she roams to explore his simple room.

The Ball and Ori:
Orianna waves to Thresh when the door opens, seemingly missing or just not acknowledging the creepy atmosphere. The Ball's camera eye shone a light similar to a flash light, brightening up the room where it looked.

"Spectral Warden," Orianna started, "Are you free for a little discussion?"

The Warden scoffs at her greeting, peering through the glare of the Ball's flash as it casts a dark snarling shadow behind Thresh, shining right through the hollow visage.

"Speak, child..." He speaks with one raised 'eyebrow' in languid curiousity. His hand continues tapping each finger-like-claw against the aged wooden desk, pounding out through the silence.

Ask ShacoV2:
" If you'd care to let me 'examine' your library, I could enjoy a tome or two" Shaco smiled, baring his teeth. "Isn't it a soulless existence? To stay here, with nobody to give you company and doing the same thing daily?" Shaco asked.

((It was Batman but essentially Stark copied Batman, so you're right too.))

"Quite the opposite....You'd be surprised what joy there is in repetition." He retorts adding 'The World' to the list of cards on the table. "And I am not lonely. I have all my friends here with me...A-haha..."

His laugh drips out cold and unfeeling, so empty and unsympathetic.

Arcana XV DEVIL:
Dear Thresh,

What torture do you enjoy the most, what method of torture do you find doing the most

~Ellanore,the voice of Shadows

((This is and OC I created I hope you don't mind))

Dear Fool

All torture, when effective, is relatively equal. I hold no true favorites should I speak with a discerning eye.

On the other hand, I do admit to a fondness, partiality even, to chains but call that...artistic symbolism on a grossly indulgent level.


The Warden.

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Warden of Wards

Senior Member


((I'll be honest. Kinda concerned about consequences rippling from the...recent lore butchering.

I may restart my thread...and indeed that'd be quite an obstacle to overcome as far as social interaction goes without an enforced neutrality on the grounds of the Institute...


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Ask ShacoV2



((I don't exactly understand how it affects us. I have missed the Skype OOC and would like a bit of background. What I gathered was no Ask Program so far))

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Warden of Wards

Senior Member


The sharp crack of a whip splits the air like the howl of thunder. A cry echoes out from the vacant nothingness...a hollow memory, an apostrophe of suffering.

Thresh reflects on his (mis)deeds from the inner sanctums of his ensnaring asylum ripped from the ground, torn from its grave.

His lantern sways in time, like the pendulum of a grandfather clock measuring each thought that haunts him.

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Junior Member


Dear, Warden of Souls

While it is to my understanding that you are not a mercenary for hire, I feel that I must ask for your help. For the past few weeks a large colony of necromancers have moved into a village a few miles away from Bilgewater, this itself would not be a concern except that they have taken all the souls of the people in the village to fuel their magic. I do not expect you to spare the souls of the villagers or mine for that matter but they are infringing on the influx of souls destined to the after life. one soul taker is bad enough (but it is bearable and on more than twenty occasions I had to bury your victims myself)but a legion of them could vacuum all the souls in Volaran in a week! After all if it's infringing on your hunting wouldn't you be inclined to stop it?

Rolland-The Grave digger