Mithaniel

Aye. I have my own take on it, but I need to re-collect the thread. Or not, I dunno.

i look forward to zanaris and mith being sarcastic assholes and killing the stupid people. B)

I'll be adding in the appearance section today/tomorrow. Been cooking over ideas on how to explain what I had in mind.

Can you show previous work for those interested? Like what sort of stuff can you do?

My name is Sage / Mithaniel and I'm the nerd that really pushes the boundries of custom lore. I like magic, elves, and all things morally grey heroes/villains. Anti-heroes too.

Both of these are commisioned art of my character (and Bearpants' Ciarana Firesun in the top one) Mithaniel Duskcloak x Ciarana Firesun Duskcloak, The Legion's Champion

I have ideas for Mith. With my friend I dragged here, I intend to do some very interesting things B)

its my boy skookas.

fuck off layet (<3)

ENTRY: DEFIANCE I have seen an universe drained of light and heat, where not even a story will survive. I do not know why or how I have seen this, but I know it to be a future for Azeroth and the worlds outside of it. I know of fallen worlds and worlds that are yet to fall. It seems like I am going mad, and this knowledge is but the last sign of it. Yet, I cannot truly believe that these visions of what might become are just my mind losing it. There is a meaning to it, to the suffering I witness. I know from my time under the wing of a dragon that there is a wider image to the world than just Azeroth that we know. Time is the only constant, somehow, and that is what strikes out at me when I see what I see. That there is this sense of the inevitable. That it is only a matter of time before the next tragedy strikes. It almost makes it worthless to fight, to keep living even. Yet, I know me and I know the mortals of Azeroth. We will fight for what we believe in until our dying breath, and we might not know it yet. It inspires me to look for defiance of fate, defiance of time, and defiance of nature. We can defy expectations, but defy fate for those who believe in it? It almost seems foolish, but I know we can. It is why I have decided to do one last great act upon this world before I do something that will change the course of everything. I have seen the bigger picture, and I know now that this world will burn if it is unprepared. It will suffer, and the denizens will be under a shadow that it cannot outshine. I cannot let that come to pass. What I do will damn me as a villain, but I must become just that if I am to succeed. I only hope that I can be forgiven when all is said and done.

ENTRY: DESTINY I never believed in destiny or fate. They are words that indicate no control, that everything in your life means this singular path is all that you are. They are tools that never go well for anyone. No one's fate or destiny has meant any good for them, and I know I would have been scornful towards those who tried to push such ideas on me. That was, until I saw that it is fate that is the worst of them and it is destiny that can be decided. Certainly, the word evokes similar feelings but it does not subjugate you. You can choose how to reach your destiny or what your destiny is. It isn't predetermined. Destiny is your belief of where you will go, I find. My destiny is...strange. It isn't that of a hero of the books. It isn't a greatness you hear of. In fact, I prefer it like that. I am not a prestigious son of a noble bloodline. I am the taint upon two noble races that are flawed. Yet, it is that and more which makes me who I am. It is that which allows me to choose my own path. My own destiny. How funny it sounds, to acknowledge it as a whole. Yet, I must. For I have seen what lurks in the domain above us all. For years, I have known that it is coming. The Burning Legion. It is not a threat forgotten or forsaken, but can one truly be ready for them? No. Not Azeroth. Not this Azeroth. The Burning Legion will strike with wrath unmatched and it will burn at our hearts. Azeroth will try to fight them, but they will fail. Many will die. It is the inevitability when one fights the shadow that has no end. We can push them back, but they will return and our losses will surpass the past once more. We do not have the limitless form or energy that they do. It almost seems hopeless to fight. But I have come upon secrets of the universe that would make me seem a liar. A madman. As it must be. I will bear such names, if it means I can save my home from certain doom. If it means that all my suffering has been worth it, I will do what it takes. Even if I must pay with my life.

SECRETS OF THE LOREKEEPER IMPORTANT SECRETS: LOCATIONS Mithaniel's first go-to location is a pocket dimension that is a well-guarded library that holds the access to his years of collecting knowledge. Books of various sizes line the seemingly endless hallway of bookcases. However, books are not all what lie within this protected domain. Scrolls, tablets, and even maps are able to be found. The further one walks into this pocket dimension, the more they find that this is a misnomer. For this library connects like a pathway to his other holdings. Over the years, he has created or taken over many places and fashioned them for a greater use than they had been used or intended for. Besides the library, Mithaniel has access to a dome-covered island that acts as a prison. Rarely has anything be put within this prison, but it remains the location for just that. Deep beneath the island's surface is the true prison - three massive cells to contain whatever he needs to contain. Unknown to most, the prison is meant to contain himself if he was to ever go truly evil. A method to trap him within this prison is very clear - a floating crystal guarded by every which manner of arcanic warding that layers over one another. If he was to ever be forced into it, he himself could not break out. He would have to be set free, and woe be the day that came to pass. There is also the land that was once held by his father's family, that of Hal'yenfal and its towering keep. Unknown to most, Mithaniel has transitioned this forgotten part of Arathorian history into his new home. Guarded by magic and the natural land, it can only be found by those truly searching for it. While most of the red-roofed town is abandoned, the keep is not such a way. Magic flows around it, as if it was the source of what protected it. Inside the keep, red banners still flow while everything is made to seem like the keep isn't lorded over by a single man. The banquet hall, worthy of ancient Arathorian royalty, is always lit and seemingly ready for guests. The guest rooms behold fresh sheets and pillows, as if welcoming the idea of more than their lone inhabitant. In the higher spires of the keep, a vacant seat of a viscount remains waiting for the Son of Arathor to take that which is his.

SECRETS OF THE LOREKEEPER ORIGINS SECRETS: BLOOD OF ARATHOR On the side of his father's blood is the lineage of Heartwood, whose ancient and more tribal name has been lost to the shifting sands that is time. Among the oldest of the tribal families that sprung from the vrykul descendents, The Heartwoods were the keener of the families. Though introverted, they were wise and patient. They did not have a thirst for blood or war like others did, but they had a call for old rituals and magics that are now long lost. Among these Heartwoods were some of human's first shamans and crude druids. They were not the sort to wield the elements or nature in the way that orcs and elves do today. However, fierce enough they were with such magic. The Heartwoods, alongside some families that would eventually go on to be the founders of Gilneas, paved the way for the Harvest Witches. The Heartwoods gained noticed about the time when The Empire of Arathor had risen from the tribal society they had once been in. Chief among them was Advisor Aethelwulf Heartwood, among a council to advise the lineage of Trollbane. Though these advisors were sometimes not heeded, they were not entirely useless to The Empire. Aethelwulf was one of the few who were men of the people rather than men of the power. The Heartwoods craved no high station, no true recognition in the end. They simply did what they believed to be best and rose by natural happening. Over the course of history, The Heartwoods have always valued wisdom and fell into roles that befit that. Among the human magi who learned from the elves of Quel'thalas, a son of Aethelwulf rose to the call of a challenge. His name was Ulfstan Heartwood, and he saw learning arcane as a challenge that would unlock greater wisdom. When the magi were feared, Ulfstan joined his kin in Dalaran and worked with them to further their understanding of this new element in the world. Yet, as the Empire split so too did the family that had grown over the years. While most remained stalwart and rooted in Arathor's home, others spread to the new Seven Kingdoms. The remnants of the blood who remained in Arathor stood strong for the thousands of years to follow. Though their wisdom-keeping ways faded and was traded for the warrior heart of Strom, some still clung to the ways that had been kept for so long. Over time, their dedication to Strom had earned them land within the fields of Arathi. A keep of sorts, that the Heartwoods humbly accepted. It was here that the keepers of wisdom could be about their practices without disruption. The few warriors that they produced were none too notable, but valiant nonetheless. When Thoras Trollbane was slain by mysterious circumstances, the keep of the Heartwoods was one of the last remaining bastions of Stromic blood not yet fallen. It is rumored that their keep faded simply into nothingness just days after the Syndicate and Ogres overtook the capital city. To this day, it has not been seen. SECRETS: BLOOD OF QUEL'THALAS On his mother's side is the quel'dorei family of Asen'eth, a family rooted in the past of Highborne lives. Like most families of the Quel'dorei, the Asen'eth family became quel'dorei when the highborne exiles created The Sunwell. Their new degenerated state became empowered and thus born were the Thalassian-speaking people. From nothing rose Silvermoon, capital city of these once exiled elves. The Asen'eths, in their previous lives, were among the noblest of tailors. To that end, they continued such while some dived heavier into magic. They were, after all, masters of it. Their tailors sprung to action to finding new ways for their people to look, all the while their mages joined the many who sought to further their powers of the arcane. Though they did not rise to positions of power, such as the Convocation of Silvermoon, they did have some eyes on them for their craft. It was in these moments that they relished in - for they had begun to become frightened by the idea of being forgotten. These once well-sought noble tailors were finally returning to the spotlight of some form. Among the tailors of Silvermoon, the Asen'eth family shop was the one most sought out. Some of their family went on to become mages at Dalaran or even among Silvermoon, but none truly caught the eye of the people until a sorceress of Asen'eth happened to fall in love with a man of Strom. Alaenna Asen'eth, eldest daughter of the family and heiress to it, had fallen for Lysander Heartwood during one of her trips to Dalaran. Lysander had gone there to meet with a family friend, and it had been an accidental meeting. Impurity upon the blood line came next, and that is where Alaenna seemed to disappoint her family. She, personally, did not care - for she loved the child that came of her and Lysander. She willingly accepted disgrace and what else came from such an imagined stain. When Quel'thalas fell, the Asen'eth bloodline fell to Alaenna and her son Mithaniel. It was Alaenna who decided to, once her son was grown and living his own life, see if she could retrieve anything of her family. She was able to, including a family stave, but she perished of old age just after passing it and what else she could get to Mithaniel.

oi.

"Of the tales spun by the kings and queens, And the tales treasured by those memories and dreams. You must forever not succumb to the darkness of the void, For the most darkest of all creatures fathomable and cruel, Of all things despisable and distastablely true, He is the king of the void and the god of death. And he most certainly is coming for you." Far away from Azeroth lied a sundered world that had long been at the mercy of the Burning Legion. All that remained was ashen plains and twisted mountains. It was a planet now abandoned, or so that the denizens of the dark thought. Among these ruined plains walked a man clad in silver robes that cascaded down a broken body. A staff of oak, enhanced by mithril coverings, was used as a walking stick rather than its full purpose. Moonlight white hair was tied back into a singular ponytail to keep hair from the face of a man who almost looked as if he should not be alive. Fel green eyes blazed while pale flesh twisted with brows furrowing and scars scrunching by facial gesture. Feet stopped pressing forward and the lone figure looked around. "...I wonder if any wept for this world. Perhaps the draenei." mused the man as he coughed soon after. He made a gesture with his left hand and a dim violet light formed through an orb-like shape. It floated near him as he continued his path. Above him, the Great Dark Beyond twisted and churned with stars and fallen planets alike. The Burning Legion had been relentless, and the lone sorcerer could see it still held true this far from Azeroth. Corrupted eyes darted around, studying the distant ruins and countless scorched elements of the planet. The dead world reeked of death that had long settled, and it reminded him of what he had seen in his time since his journey began. Sadness settled in his visage and eyes often passive filled with sorrow that came with empathy. Unlike most of the warlock kind, he felt for those who had been lost in this crusade of monsters. He came to another stop as the source of light showed him what he needed to see. A scorched rock with hints of blood spatter long dried out. He reached with his left hand to touch the rock, and ran his thumb over a particular spot. There had been a slaughter here, and he looked around. The area he stood had been where defenders had tried to hold back infernals and fel guards both. He then let out a sigh and continued on his way, his staff touching to ashen soil barely as if his foot steps were now light. It was almost as if he was gliding along the ruined land now. He eventually came to what was likely where any survivors had lasted for mere minutes. Towering like the broken mountains was a strange temple of architecture unknown to the galaxy. It was ancient, alien, and most of all it was forgotten. Steps were broken and carved down by erosion. As he ascended these stairs and towards the temple's shattered doorway, he could see the hints of remains on his path. He wondered how quickly the demons cut through them when they reached the temple, and he wondered what this dead race was like. He came to a stop as he entered the temple and looked up at the shattered statue that stood in the main area of the religious building. It had likely been of some great figure in their history. The design was too worn down for him to find out, but he didn't seem to make a fuss over it. He walked around, eyes darting around, until he found himself back at the door of the temple. Looking one last time, he sighed and shook his head with sadness in his mannerisms. As he stepped outside of the temple, he looked at the ashen fields that surrounded it. Something about the sight reminded him that this could be Azeroth, and that tightened his grip upon his oaken staff. Perhaps my exile is over.

VOICE NAME: Mithaniel RACE: Half-elf AGE: 101 BIRTHPLACE: Drustvar, Kul Tiras MONIKER: The Worldwalker CLASS: ? ALIGNMENT: True Neutral MARITAL: Widower OCCUPATION: Keeper of Magic, History, and Secrets AFFILIATION: Himself PROFICIENCIES: Sorcery & Manipulation Mithaniel is someone who has been burned by the world and yet finds reason to keep fighting. He is a man who has lost loves, lost children, and yet he still finds a reason to get back up. He has been maimed, betrayed, and cast aside only to brush the dirt off his shoulders and get back up. His indomitable will is one of the main traits about him - an unwavering force of will in the face of danger and tragedy. His tolerance for many things being so low does lead to him being on guard more often than not. While he does show trust at times it is a guarded trust. He is careful with his interactions - knowing that someone may try and trick him or strong arm him. Now more than ever is a case of being careful and being prepared. Despite any gruff or cold exterior the half-breed holds to being a gentle giant with experience. He is kind and warm to those who are innocent or young. He is firm but fair with those to be deemed adults. There is a stern yet just nature to him, but he is also cautious - he has been burned one too many times by others. He will not judge for much - but he does judge actions, thoughts, and reactions. He has no tolerance for those who demean others based on anything besides their character. As a target of demeaning in the past he will not stand for it. Where he lacks in intelligence he makes up for it with his ability to listen and learn. He is a student of books and scrolls - learning what he can of the world, its languages, and more. He is patient beyond words with anyone willing to tell him anything about any topic. He values the strength of mind just as much as he values the strength of character. There is a respectful nature to him where it is called for it - born out of him being a Lord for so much of his history among other things. He shows courtesy, gratitude, and respect where it is due and earned. He always offers his opinion respectfully when he can, but there are moments of being irate should one show a lack of intelligence or care. The first things to notice about Mithaniel is his towering height, his onyx black hair, and the grey eyes that watch every little movement. His black hair looks to be well-maintained. Its length has gotten to the point that he has golden rings holding together braided hair - two distinct braids in fact. The rest of his hair is either tied up or let down depending on the day. His muscular and towering stature is clear to see - showing off a body that has worked out and worked hard to get to where he is now. It is a mixture of elven grace with the bulk of Tirasians - a meet in the middle type of body if anything. Distinct scars line his face as well - one of them a single line going from above his left eye down across his nose and underneath his right eye. It looks to be a clean cut were it not for the other scar - an engraved claw-made scar that is fresher than this other scar. Thankfully none of this scarring reaches as far as his ears - short but pointed like his half-breed nature dictates. One last scar remains in sight - a carving scar digging into his throat with the same claw-like nature of the one on his face. Speaking of scars there are plenty to line his body once below the neck - criss-cross scars on his arms, dagger scars on his back and chest, burns along his hands, and distinct jagged scars on his back where one might think something was torn off. The most thorough scar is on the back of his neck - the Kul Tiras sigil carved into his neck as if being branded. There was more to him than the scars - patterned runic symbols paint his face and all the way down his neck to the rest of his body. These lines are a recent addition and trail towards the floral pattern of tattoos on his arms. This pattern mixes vine-like designs with a thorny mystical edge. Newer orchid-colored vines with thorns have appeared since his encounter in the location known as the Maw of Souls - where he faced off against the Fallen King Ymiron. BEING REWRITTEN ? ? Scholar of Secrets Weapons of War ? ? ? The Tome of Ashes Shadewalker's Cloak ? ? Bracers of the Winter Chainmail and leather combine into these icy steel bracers that were a gift from a long lost love. Capable of creating a wintry guard, these bracers are called upon should he face a foe of hellish flames. Satchel of Travels The main carrier of all his items, this satchel is enchanted to carry more than it looks. Books, trinkets, and more take space in this satchel - which clings tightly to Mithaniel's form. ?