Silverstride

What is the full name of your character? : Draegan Nightbane What is your characters age? : 45yrs Which race is your character? : Human, Undead What is your character's class? : Second Generation Death Knight What is your character's affiliation? : Independent, Renegade for Life What is your character’s description? : Draegan in life was a handsome man with a defined figure from years of physical conditioning and battle. He was an aging knight of course, yet the years treated him rather nicely, only a few streaks of grey in his black hair and short, groomed beard. In death he retains much of his old qualities, yet now the markings of the damned can be seen around his milky white eyes. An eerie green glow of unholy power exhumes from them and to a lesser extent the rest of his body. Over time his skin has become pale and leathery and his hair has completely whitened. His saronite armor vaguely resembles his original armor as a paladin of Lordaeron, however it is still innately dark and sinister. He wields a massive, ornate runeblade with a distinguishable horned skull engraved on the center of the handle, where the blade meets the guard. Gender? : Male Build? : Lean, Muscular Skin Color? : Pale White Eye Color? : Glowing Green Hair Color? : White What is your character’s personality? : Once a noble paragon of honor and virtue, Draegan has become a hateful shell of his former self. His sole purpose now is redemption for his past sins in the Scourge, but even he fails to grasp the extent of his own corruption. This is reflected as he won't twice about acts others may consider monstrous and cruel, even evil. Apart from this Draegan still proves to be an individual of intellect and composure, often having the patience to mask his true feelings and emotions from others until it's time for him to make his move. He is riddled with determination and will stop at nothing and kill anyone who gets in the way of him contributing to his dark perception of the “greater good”. What is your character's history? : A Knight of the Silver Hand Draegan Nightbane was originally Draegan Lightsmith, a devote and patriotic knight of Lordaeron, born and raised in the port city of Tyr. He eagerly joined the Grand Alliance during the Second War, testing his mettle against orcs, trolls and ogres alongside his younger brother, Maverick. The two fought valiantly against the forces of the Dark Horde during the Second War, however it was during one nearly fatal battle against the Horde's death knights that opened Draegon's eyes. He realized his own martial skill would not prove enough to drive the demons from his homeland and protect his people, prompting him to follow the example of the Silver Hand and join their ranks, eventually becoming a Knight-Paladin of the order. His brother soon sought to follow Draegon's footsteps, and he too joined the order, the two once again fighting side by side, each man's pride forming a friendly rivalry between the two. In the time between the events of the Second and Third wars not many enemies threatened the peace of Lordaeron's lands, but there were still free orcs roaming that were never captured, dangerous and fanatic ones. He, among a few others, including his younger brother, were dispatched to intercept an orc war band that was making off with hostages from a town they had sacked, and when the noble knights confronted the orcs a savage, heated battle broke out. The Knights however were victorious, and among the hostages that they had saved Draegan would meet a beautiful woman name Rose. The two would fall in love and go on to marry and have a son together named Rodrick However unknown to Draegon, an envy began to grow in Maverick, it was as if he felt he was in the shadow of his brother's accomplishments, especially winning Rose's heart. The Dark Descent Soon the notorious Third War would loom it's dark shadow over Lordaeron, and the Knights of the Silver Hand would be spurred into action once again, firstly at the initial battle for Andorhal against the undead forces. Himself and Maverick took part in that battle, and both fought with a hardened resolve against the seemingly infinite undead masses to a glorious victory, or so they thought. Tainted grain shipments had already been sent out all across the land despite their timely efforts, and the Prince set his next destination; Stratholme. It was at Stratholme that Arthas would make a decision that would forever change the future, to cull the entire city. Uther, the head of the Silver Hand and the Prince's mentor not only protested such an action but refused entirely, forcing Arthas to relieve him of command and strip him of his rank, much to everyone's surprise. This especially shocked the Knights of the Silver Hand that were present, Draegan included. He couldn't agree more that Arthas was making a huge mistake, and his conscious wouldn't allow him to turn on the people he swore to protect. Maverick on the other hand was much more willing to comply, for he believed while the decision Arthas was making was not an easy one, he firmly believed the Prince was making the right choice. Draegan couldn't believe Maverick was so on board with this, and pleaded for him not to take part in such nonsense. However deep down his younger brother saw a chance to finally outshine Draegan by saving the kingdom from Stratholme's contagion, and refused. With a heavy heart the knight surrendered his rank and turned his back on his Prince and younger brother, returning to his family within the quiet town of Darrowshire. Unaware of the events that had unfolded in Northrend, the nation was shocked when Arthas murdered his father and unleashed the Scourge upon the kingdom. Draegan's was left no other choice but to take up arms once more like so many others against the undead masses. The battles he fought in grew increasingly difficult as the war became quite grim, and eventually climaxed as he was once again nearly slain when he and a few militias were faced off against a necromancer and his minions, including an abomination. He received word from others who survived the battle that a group of surviving paladins were traveling to Northrend and seeking others to join them. They sought to strike at the Scourge's source in an attempt to overcome their enemies, and even though he would have to leave his family he felt it may have been his only true chance to save them alongside so many others. Rose had nearly convinced him to stay when an expected visitor arrived, Maverick. He was a part of the group and had been sent to try to recruit his brother's services, much to his own disdain. Reluctantly Draegan left his family's safety to the stoic defenders of Darrowshire such as Sir Davil Crokford, another paladin of the Order, and Captain Joseph Redpath as he departed for the frozen north. The journey took its toll on the group, and some of the more shaken paladins became more and more dark and brooding. Many felt a mixed array of emotions, some of sorrow and loss, others of anger at betrayal or at personal failures to defend, but through it all Draegan prayed to the Light when in doubt until they had finally arrived. They were confronted by Arthas and he offered them quite a few things such as power, immortality and a place within the Scourge. Draegan was sickened to find his fellow brothers and sisters of the Light began to accept the offer, and evenmore soo that Maverick did so almost eagerly. Draegan began to think very carefully as the others accepted the offer one by one, weighing his options. He could attempt to strike now, and fail, or refuse the offer, and die. His family was depending on him to put an end to this War, so he had to think of something quickly. Then the thought hit him, this was not a situation he would walk away from alive no matter what he did, so he may as well attempt one final service to the Light. He accepted the offer, planning to infiltrate the ranks of the Scourge and attack and sabotage them from the inside, yet what he wasn't aware of was that they were all to be bound to the will of the Lich King. By the time he discovered this it was too late, and the full gravity of his mistake washed over him as his final moments of free will slipped away and his former name of Lightsmith and his identity was lost to him, reborn under his new masters as Draegan Nightbane. Death's Trials As death knights of the Scourge the divide that had begun to form between the two brothers grew exponentially. Draegan felt disgusted with Maverick for betraying everything they stood for in life without a second thought, among other things. His younger brother took to the change much different than he did, it was as if a dormant evil in his heart had been brought out for the first time. He saw Draegan as a weak fool for not only hesitating to accept the offer of undeath but for not embracing it as the others have. This served to further infuriate him, as despite his sense of superiority he held over his older brother, Draegan, he seemed to continue to outshine him even in undeath, as he proved time and time again to their superiors his own tactical prowess and cold efficiency. However Maverick knew of one weakness Draegan still possessed, a weak spot that he could exploit to not only undermine his brother's efforts, but possibly take him out of the picture entirely. One day Draegan and Maverick were leading the Scourge advance on the defenders of small town that sat on a key crossroads. The militia put up little resistance to the might of the undead, but amongst the chaos Draegan spotted a soldier exit a small farm house, ushering forth what appeared to be his own family, a woman and a small boy, one that couldn't have been more than a few years younger than his own currently was. He immediately pushed these thoughts from his mind, he could leave -no- survivors. The soldier saw the dark knight approaching and gave his wife a final kiss before sending her on her way, yet she stopped dead in her tracks when she noticed what her husband was about to face. Draegan readied his blade and brought it down in a vertical slash at the man, who in turn parried with his own great sword. It was no match for the runeblade and was shattered, Draegan's sword cleaving deep into the man's shoulder/collarbone. The soldier fell on his knees, still gripping his shattered blade as his wife and son burst into tears. He attempted to rise to his feet defiantly, swinging his broken blade at Draegan only to have it clang off his saronite, failing to even phase him as he wrapped his saronite gauntlet around his neck, ripping out the jugular as the map's body went limp. He looked up coldly to the woman, and approached her with a swift stride as he raised his blade high above his head. The sobbing woman tried to run but tripped and fell over on her side, all seemed over for her when suddenly something halted Draegan in his tracks. He looked down to see the young boy wrapped around one of his legs, crying and begging for him not to hurt his mother. He looked back to her, who was in turn begging him not to kill her son and to take her life instead. The knight paused, everything fading in and out as he strangely pictured his own son and wife in their places. He snapped back to reality, a previously unseen anger had now taken hold of him as he kicked the boy to the side and lowered his runeblade, turning his back on them only to see Maverick standing directly behind him, a dark expression on his face coupled with a sinister grin. His brother laughed as he decapitated the child in one fell swing right before Draegan, following this by crushing the head under his boot. The mother screamed and wailed in agony at the loss of her child, but he cries were silenced next with a swift, brutal knee to her face with such force it caved her head in two. The silence was broke with his sick laughter as Draegan stared him down before he took his leave. Unknown to Draegan Maverick had acquired just what he needed to strike him where it hurts, and reported that he let a woman and child survive that he himself had to then take care of. He suggested that he be given a chance to redeem himself of this by eliminating his wife and child and therefor cutting all ties he still had to his former life. Draegan was caught entirely off guard when he was tasked with this butbegrudginglyy accepted his task. Draegan made his move while Horgus the ghoul lord and Marduk the Black, another death knight, lead the charge on Darrowshire. Draegan slipped through the chaos of the battle, making straight for his own home. He could tell all the lights were out as it was night, and he soon found the door war locked. He swiftly kicked it open with excessive force, the door swinging inwards and slamming into a wall as he marched into the house, runeblade drawn. The Lights were indeed out but now moonlight shone through the open doorway. Slowly he removed his helm as his dead eyes scanned the familiar surroundings. “Rose....” He softly called out, and from the shadows she stepped forth, tears streaming down her face as she realized who he was.”Where is Rodrick?” He asked quietly. “He's not here. Draegan.....what have they done to you?” Rose spoke nervously as she inched closer and closer until they were just inches apart. Visibly shaking in fright she looked deep into his cold, dead eyes, observing their unholy glow as she lightly brushed her hand against his pale, freezing cheek covered in marking of the damned. “Forgive me.” Was all he could say as he suddenly plunged his runeblade through her stomach, her eyes widening in shock as a short gasp escaped her lips. Her blood now ran across the runes engraved in the sword and dripped onto the floorboards below as she fell forwards, leaning on his shoulder. In a swift motion he yanked his blade clean, blood splattering off to the side, however a sudden yet stifled whimper could be heard in that direction. A stream of blood trickled down the corner of her mouth as she slumped over, hitting the floor with a heavy *thud* as he looked towards the sound. It had come from a wardrobe, and through it's cracked doors he could see his son hiding, trying desperately to remain silent. Draegan stared at his son for a long while before looking back down to his fallen wife. He knelt down beside her, closing her eyes respectfully and pulling free her silver necklace. It had the cross of the Silver Hand on it, something she had gotten to remind her of him while he was away on business or during wartime. He clenched the hand he held it in into a fist as he stood, turning his back on them as he headed towards the door, only for the quiet to once again be interrupted by a slow, heavy clapping sound. Maverick stepped into the doorway, but Draegan could easily recognize that same sinister laugh even before he saw his face. “Well done!” He said, stepping around him for a closer look at Rose's body. “Where's the boy?” He commanded. Draegan stared him down coldly as he responded. “Not here she said. I already looked.” The other continued to strut around triumphantly, his eyes pausing on the wardrobe for a moment before looking back to Draegan in delight. “No matter, we will find him eventually if he is not already dead.“ His face suddenly grew serious as he stared Draegan back down, the two looking as if they were about to come to blows before Maverick took his leave, Draegan offering a final glance at the wardrobe before leaving himself. It was when he returned he was congratulated by his superiors, and it was revealed to him that Maverick's reports to them had shaken their faith in the knight, but Draegan had atoned for his past mercy thanks to Maverick's suggested trial. Draegan already had smelled foul play when his family was used against him like someone throwing a monkey-wrench into the wheels of a moving bike, but even then he deep down didn't think his brother would stoop -that- low. He was infuriated and his hate for Maverick had finally finisheddevelopingg, for any connection the two may have had was now most certainly long gone. Draegan would never spare another life again while under the influence of the Scourge, slaughtering all in his way during the campaign against Quel'thelas, rogue bands of Blackrock orcs and even the great mage-city ofDalarann. As Ner'zhul's grasp on the Scourge began to wane Draegan was one of the earliest to be shipped off to the Frozen Wastes to safeguardIcecrownn. This lead to his successful campaign against the invading forces of Kael'thas, Illidan and Lady Vashj, which proved to be quite a noteworthy event and a day that the Scourge would forever remember, especially the duel between Illidan and Arthas. A Duel of Fates This was Draegan's final major battle of the Third War, for years and years on he would remain in the rigid, frozen lands of Northrend primarily handling logistics, often being shipped from many different locations, from caves in the Fleshwerks to massive necropolises such as Naxxramas. It wasn't until the reawakening of the Lich King that he was truly spurred into action, as much of the Scourge was. It was around the time of the troubling defection of the death knights of Acherus that Draegan was dispatched to the siege on Zul'Drak where he took part in the initial assault. After Scourge forces became more established he retired to Zeramas where he assisted in tactics against the Drakkari as well as logistics and planning of their assaults. Unfortunately Maverick too had been sent to help invade Zul'Drak, but was instead aboard the necropolis of Kolramas. Draegan was soon re-deployed to join the assault against the stalwart Argent Stand, but after the sudden crash of Kolramas he was reluctantly pulled from the battlefield and given new orders to travel to Kolramas and protect the saronite shipments that were aboard. Upon arrival he saw no sign of his rival much to his relief, allowing him to focus on the task at hand as the Hath'ar forces were soon under attack. The invading forces sent by the Argents however proved too powerful, at it was after Malas the Corruptor was slain that Draegan himself began to fall back to Grizzly Hills, being unable to regroup with Scourge forces in Zeramas. Little did he know he was being followed. In the thick overgrowth of the forests on the border of Zul'Drak and Grizzly hills he soon discovered he wasn't alone and confronted the individual that had followed him. It was an Argent Crusader, a young paladin who much to Draegan's curiosity looked shockingly familiar. It was when the young crusader called him by his full, true name, the one he had in life, that he recognized the eyes of his son, Rodrick. When he last saw Rodrick he was just a boy, his eyes filled with sadness and fear. Now he had grown, bearing much resemblance to his father, and the only thing in his eyes in the presence of his father was anger. They soon began to skirmish, and much as he suspected Draegan was easily outclassing Rodrick, for not only was he once a well-versed paladin himself but his son was inexperienced and above all reckless in his rage. If it were any other crusader Draegan would have cut them down without a second thought, but even after all the years of monstrous bloodshed something deep down stayed his blade. He understood if he kept this up his hand would be forced and he would have to strike down his son, so instead he broke free of their duel long enough to urge Rodrick to turn back, revealing Rose's silver cross he had hidden for years and offering it to him. His son hesitated, almost begrudgingly taking up the offer when suddenly he was violently struck down from behind by none other than Maverick. Believing his son to be dead Draegan snapped, that being the final straw. Everything that Maverick had done to him came rushing back, and it a fit of blind rage Draegan charged his rival. Maverick was far to busy gloating over the moment and hardly expected his former brother to do anything about it, thus he was caught off guard and received a heavy blow. This was much to Maverick's delight, as two finally had a chance to settle the score once and for all. The two knights matched each other hit for hit, blow for blow. The sound of their runeblades clashing filled the forest as the very land beneath their feat rotted and died, but one key factor gave Draegan the edge. Even as they fought Maverick had such a low opinion of his opponent he continued to underestimate him time and time again throughout the fight, and despite all of his anger Draegan caught onto this and used it to his advantage. Naturally he exploited this, earning him a decisive blow that put an and to Maverick once and for all. The danger hadn't passed yet however, as he turned to find Rodrick back on his feet and very much alive, thought not for long. The young paladin had received a mortal wound from Maverick's cheap shot, but the dying crusader was now dead-set on finishing his father. Draegan could tell there would be no stopping his son now, and all he could do was finish what was started. He no longer held the cards as they clashed again, as the desperate paladin was determined on slaying Draegan now without the fear of death, and the battle against Maverick had left him battered and weakened enough for his son to stand a chance. Ultimately Rodrick prevailed over his father after a final swing of his hammer cracked against his head with such force that his already damaged saronite helm cracked, his skull -nearly- caving in completely. Assuming he had finished the disabled death knight he himself collapsed from his wounds and blood loss, accepting his end now that he thought he avenged his mother and all the horrors Draegan had committed. He remained there, undisturbed for three years as the battlefield and their bodies became slowly reclaimed by fresh overgrowth. This at least was the case, until an unsuspecting traveler stumbled across their remains and began looting what he could from Rodrick's corpse before moving on to the remains of Maverick. He ran his hands across the fallen knight's armor, though he quickly backed away, being naturally being appalled by its darkness. He was about to reach for his blade, which by now appeared as a normal, nondescript sword before noticing the glint of another weapon, one that appeared far fiercer than either the paladin's hammer or the sword by the death knight, and this sinister runeblade he spied was still clutched tightly by the knight it belonged to, Draegan. Not knowing much better the Traveler attempted to pry the runeblade from his grip, a fatal mistake that would incur the wrath of a long-dormant death knight.

Ah thank you, you're a lifesaver

Ty but I dunno how lol

You too! I've already posted an intro to one of my main characters in the codex of memories, and now I just wait

Thank you!

Name : Eldaraes Shademoon Age : 14,756yrs Race : Kaldorei, (Highborne) Class : Demon Hunter Description Eldaraes is a tall man of a well defined build. His skin's blue hue is comparable only to that of the mystical moon wells, and his eyes are, or at least once were shinning with inner silver light. He has a handsome face with a well-groomed beard framing it, and long, flowing dark blue hair cascades down his back. Now ritualistic tattoos and scars of battle cover his form, and two burning sockets of fel have replaced his once mystical eyes. Personality Eldaraes as he was in a past life was an unusual individual for his caste, a kindness and generosity about him despite his intense loyalty to Azshara. He often felt a sense of duty to his people being in the position he was in, and wanted to see them grow in power just as the Highborne had, even if his selfless acts earned him the ire of others. Now he is a twisted version of his former self, his heart growing cold and mind conspiring. He is distrustful of the authority he once held in the highrest regard, having been betrayed by both Queen Azshara and then by Prince Tortheldrin. He still cares for his people, however who have suffered greatly, Highborne or not. Beyond this his primary focus has become his lust for revenge against the Prince, and beyond him the demons that unraveled his world. Affiliation : Independant Darnassus [Loosely] Shen'dralar [Loosely] History Fortunate Son Eldaraes was born long before the War of the Ancients, among the upper castes of the Kaldorei Empire. He found himself among the ranks of what would become known as the Highborne, yet he did not share the greed and lust for power that enticed many of the rest of the caste. Where others abused this title to hoard arcane and power to themselves, Eldaraes did what he could to share his knowledge and power, particularly with the Moon Guard. In doing this he came to train an aspiring arcanist named Salera, and although she wasn't highborne herself, the two fell in love. Knowing this could be used against him the two agreed to keep their relationship a secret, her posing his final and permanent "apprentice". Yet while others assumed his generosity would only set him back, he proved quite the contrary as his colleges still had to stay on their toes keep up with his own natural talent and political prowess. After all, these two things were enough to make him prominent in his own right. Because of this he was often invited to the grand capital of Zin'Azshari, where he eagerly reported due to his strong loyalty to Azshara. Eventually he earned his place within the ranks of the Shen'dralar, an elite order tasked with guarding the Queen's most precious tombs and treasures. Placed under the command of Prince Tortheldrin, Eldaraes and the rest of the Shen'dralar traveled into the misty heart of Kalimdor's southern jungles, of course bringing Salera along with him, and it was there the city known as Eldre'Thalas was founded. War of the Ancients All was well for the couple within the walls of the bustling city, from studying in it's grand, exquisite libraries to wandering beautiful moonlit gardens, they both grew in their arcane masteries and got the privacy they needed for their budding romance. He knew very well the city had eyes everywhere, but by then neither of them cared. Many spoke against him behind his back as the rumors spread about him, but none challenged him. His superiors decided he still had his use to them, therefore deciding that if he wanted to taint his bloodline with impurity then so be it. Their opinions didn't phase him, but what did was a true threat casting it's shadow over the world. Soon they would suddenly found themselves under attack by anunknown enemy one morning, and chaos erupted as the demonic hordes reached them before even word of the invasion had. Quickly both the greatest magi and the most novice began fighting back the invaders from their homes and their skies, the bloody battle to ensure lasting quite a long while. Eldaraes used every spell he knew to preserve the lives of his allies and destroy the demons, even being forced to resort to his bladesmanship alone to overcome some enemies. He even caught glimpses of the mighty Goldrinn arriving to their aid, tearing through demonic forces with an untamed violence. He used that to his advantage, helping guide as many of the woman and children to safety as he could, even Salera. He could not join her, as he knew his place was not with her at this time, and he rejoined the fray, joining Prince Tortheldrin and the others to begin weaving a great spell-shield over the city, which safeguarded them from the majority of the Sundering. Yet earthquakes still sundered their walls and shattered their homes, and bodies from the conflict filled their bloodied streets. Post Sundering The two were reunited after order had been restored, but the Well of Eternity was no more, and they all felt their power and immortality become sapped from them. Once the Prince came up with a solution Eldaraes was quick to give his undivided attention for both his sake and that of his beloved's, assisting the best he could to construct the pylons that would create a powerful prison. From there Tortheldrin revealed his drastic trump card, and summoned the powerful demon known as Immol'thar and imprisoned it. From there he began to siphon it's energies, shocking many including Eldaraes. Salera warned him not to partake, but he had faith in the Prince who had ensured their survival thus far, and was revitalized by the demon's power. Soon he convinced her to do so as well, despite her hesitation. Fall of the Prince They carried on like this for thousands of years, unraveling arcane mysteries and making magical breakthroughs their fallen brethren had bee robbed of. However the Shen'dralar had quite the interest in the world around them, yet the way they went about things was very one-sided. They would go to great lengths to gain knowledge, often making deals with outsiders to fetch ancient artifacts and texts for them to examine in hoard, but as much as they learned about life outside their walls, the world itself grew to know very little about the reclusive elves themselves. Eldaraes in particular did his best to be as in tune with his people as possible, as well as all the fates of the other Highborne, who now ranged from mere spirits, naga, satyr or even the Quel'dorei. Unfortunately as time passed his attentions would shift to much more grim matters, like so many others. They had finally felt their powers beginning to wane again. Salera looked to Eldaraes for answers, and he looked towards the Prince. However all of the highborne had begun to lose power, and soon suffer from a greater addiction than they had before, thanks to their siphoning from Immol'thar. Tortheldrin's plan began to unravel before him, and so him and his most trusted servants formulated another drastic plan. They were to begin culling their own people, as there were simply "too many mouths to feed" to sustain their power. When Eldaraes was approached with this proposition he was appalled. It was one thing to stoop low enough to drain energy from a demon, but to then begin killing his own people? He refused and opposed in an outrage. They're first thought was to kill him, but one of the Princes Advisor's stopped them, declaring that they would shed Lowborne blood before that of their own. On his way home that night he stumbled across a horrifying sight that shattered his heart, Salera's broken and bloodied form laying cold and still within the gardens they so often visited. Even as he collapsed by her side in grief, he was no fool. He knew who had done this, and soon he would be next, just like so many others. Outnumbered and outmatched he fled the city, stepping outside it's walls into the wilds for the first time in thousands of years. Recovery He wandered the wilds, the hunger within him growing as he put more and more distance between himself and his former source of power. It soon became unbearable by the time he had wandered into the lands of Desolace. He himself was resting in a ruin before somthing surged towards him in the shadows. He found a knife plunge into his side and a clawed hand of a satyr reach for his throat. He desperatley expended what little power he had left, unleashing an arcane explosion to expel his foe. From there adrenaline rushed through his veins as he drew his own blade and rushed after the satyr, attacking it in a violent fury. He began to overcome the twisted elf, who was suprised at the other's blind rage instead of fear. Once he cut down the other he held his blade high above the demon's head, the injured foe beginning to cowardly attempt to talk his way out of his execution with a series of offers, ranging from money, to treasures, to power. Power, yes. That was it. Eldaraes was wounded and magically crippled, he needed something to help sustain him, so he lowered his blade much to the other's satisfaction. Yet what the demon didn't expect was for Eldaraes to suddenly begin draining his power, invigorating himself while sucking the strength to survive from the other who began frantically begging him to stop, yet he only stopped when his victim stopped kicking. He felt refreshed, yet this was only a small step towards a long recovery. Eldaraes now knew what he had to do, and after tending to his physical wounds he began to scour the land, hunting isolated and weak demonic entities and through a combination of magic and melee defeated and drained them of their magic to fuel his own. Revelations As the years went by a feeling of isolation began to set in, for despite keeping his practices secret he was still rejected by other kaldorei for simply being highborne, and thus became little more than a drifter. On top of his he began to notice both physical and mental changes taking root, and not for the better. He began to remember Illidan and his fate, feeling as if he could relate to the outcast before an idea struck his mind. He knew others had attempted to follow in the Betrayer's footsteps before, but if he could locate one of them he could learn a better way to continue his practices and perhaps take control of what he was becoming. Eldaraes began to search wide and far for any sign of the elusive hunters, but every lead he tracked down came up empty handed. He grew increasingly frustrated yet this was to be expected, for he was searching for something or someone that might not even still exist or be alive. Eventually he was lead to a collapsed ruin high in the misty mountaintops between Feralas and Desolace, it is there he found what appeared to be the sight of an ancient battle. Scattered remains of demonic skeletons riddled the area and tainted the pond the ruins were centered around, but no signs of life could be seen. He was about to give up when a glimmer of light caught his eye. Upon investigation he found half of a broken warglaive, his interest piqued. Despite this, his still came up empty-handed upon further searching the area, though what he did know was a fierce storm was headed his way. Having no where to be and seeking shelter he decided any dangers that have been here had long past, and chose an abandoned house against a cliff wall to make camp. A crack of thunder would awake him from his slumber in the middle of the night, jumping up and reaching for his blade as the heavy rains poured outside. Slowly he recollected himself, gathering some broken wood and other items to start a small fire to warm himself with. Though with the doors closed and the windows boarded/shut he still felt a small draft come from deeper within the house, one that had come to annoy him for quite some time. Upon further investigation he found some rubble that had collapsed in front of a strange door leading out of the house, yet he knew there was nothing but the cliff the house was built into beyond that wall, or so he thought. He spent some time clearing the way before revealing a poorly made door draped in tattered purple tapestries. He forced open the broken doors, revealing a putrid cave within. His eyes widened as he found an ungodly amount of demonic remains within, all surrounding what appeared to be an elf they overran, one clutching a single, unbroken warglaive identical to the broken one he had found before. It appeared he had found his hunter, only many years too late. He grew disheartened, but then turned his eyes to another portion of the cave, one that appeared to be used for rituals of some sort. Nearby were piles and piles of scrolls and dusty old tombs. Many were water-damaged, burned or had pages missing, but under all of the jumbled piles he sifted through he found one in particular that stood out, a journal of some sort, one that seemed to have belonged to the fallen demon hunter. It contained various tales of his travels, dating back to when he was first accepted as a Thero'shan, including the training he endured. Despite an annoying amount of the book being difficult to read, restoring old tombs was a common practice among the Shen'dralar, and he needed only time to decipher the life of it's author. A Dark Pact Eldaraes began closely following the journal's writings, carefully attempting to replicate what the other had accomplished under his Shan'do many years ago. He traded in his sword for the hunter's warglaive, and began to hunt demons far more effectively than he had before, still preforming his same practices until finally hunting down a sayaad that had been luring in the unwary and making short work of them. Upon locating her he too posed as a lone passerby-er and faked being seduced, playing along until she believed he was ripe to be plucked. Right when she made her move however, she only met his blade much to her surprise. Eldaraes ripped out her cruel heart, as it was a key reagent for the ritual. Upon returning to the lair of his fallen predecessor he spent much time studying the ritual, memorizing and consistently re-reading it's teachings. He came to the conclusion it would be tricky to accomplish this alone, so he had to make some compensations. For one, he applied the runic tattoos upon his body first instead of later, as he knew he wouldn't be in the state of mind to do it once the ritual began. He then hesitated, knowing what he was about to put himself through, but it had to be done if he was to control what he was already becoming, as well as acquire the power to potentially get revenge on those who murdered his spouse. Finally he held the heart before him, sinking his fangs into it without further delay. Immediately he began to coil over in pain, feeling as if he just poisoned himself. The feeling of something within trying to rip and tear it's way out of him made him groan in pain, his vision becoming blurred before he fell unconscious. He awoke in a dreamlike state, but he was not in the cave. No, much to his surprise he was in Eldre'thalas again, before the Sundering. He saw a single figure, that of Salera, alone in the gardens. She looked at him and smiled, gesturing him over to her. Slowly he began to approach her, unable to believe his eyes, but as he drew nearer something rose in the back of his mind. A brief glimmer of reality slipped through for a second, and he began to slowly recall that he was in the middle of a deadly ritual. At the last second he came to his senses and jerked away from Salera's reach, her form twisting and distorting in anger and revealing the twisted sayaad's true form. He attempted to cast a spell, but found no magic coming to him in this state, instead drawing his old blade. From there he clashed with the demon in a dangerous battle for control, yet he was eventually able to sever her wicked whip and strike her down. He awoke to the same pain as before, a surge of power violently pulsing through his veins as he found the runes on his body glowing with power. Whispers of temptation through Salera's voice began to flood his mind, and the world around him began to melt away in favor of dark, twisted visions. He began to see world after world, civilization after civilization, all fall and burn before the Legion's might. He grabbed his head, now writhing in pain on the ground, and to top it all off every time he opened his eyes he saw nothing but chaos and destruction. But every time she tried to recruit him into the Legion's fold, he recalled when they invaded Eldre'thalas, and all of the atrocities they committed to not only his people but countless peoples. He knew the Legion and their demons had doomed his world, his people, his home, and by extension Salera who they now attempted to impersonate. Enough was enough, for being driven to the edge of madness he began frantically clawing his eyes out while he still could, ripping each out with frantic roars of unfathomable agony. Blood trickled down his face as fel erupted from his sockets. Eldaraes fell limp, once more falling over and blacking out. Days later he awoke in the darkness, covered in his own dry blood. Every part of his being ached and his head throbbed as he crawled out of the cavern into the ruined household. The disgruntled elf pulled himself to his feet, stumbling out into the daylight. He could see, yet everything appeared strange to him, as if he was gazing upon an alien world. The tattoos across his body were glowing with energies, and he felt an untold power within him. He had done what was thought to be the impossible.

Hello all! I've rped on a few servers over the years now and I can't resist giving Epsilon a try on it's day of release. Look forwards to seeing you all, and take me out to dinner first if you plan to spawnkill On another note I have played a variety of classes, the two I am most prominent in being the old fashioned Templar and of course Demon Hunters (Years before Legion). Elves and demons are what I mostly stick to, including mixes of the two, but I usually stick to kaldorei and quel'dorei out of preference. When I'm not doing anything of that sort I may also be messing around with death knights as well, as I went for a long period playing them after I got bored of paladins ironically. When it comes to wow I'm either usually rping or consistently reading up on lore, sometimes both at the same time, so I'll be happy to meet new people and learn new things here!