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Fyldaron Wildbloom

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"When rose loses its petals only thorns will remain."



Name: Fyldaron Wildbloom

Title: Druid of Thorns

Gender: Male

Race: Kaldorei

Age: Ancient

Birthplace: Unnamed village in Suramar region

Affiliation: None

Former affiliations: Kaldorei rebellion, Cenarion Circle

Relatives: Unknown

Status: Active




Far beyond the border of Suramar city, beyond even the groves surrounding it once stood a small village. Its citizens were common folk, not basking in the direct energies of the Nightwell. Woodcutters, farmers, simple craftsmen, all those unseen lowly people whose hard work allowed the gorgeous city to prosper. Heartbloom family was one of those. They were simple farmers, growing crops so that nobles of the city could fill their stomachs. But it was a good life for the most part. Young Fyldaron was enjoying this life. Helping his parents from time to time and playing with the other children in the village. They were looking up to him because he always had the best ideas for games and never failed to come up with something to do. Either that or they just marvelled at his amber eyes. Adults were telling him that he had a great destiny, but he didn’t pay much attention to them back then.

But as years went on Fyldaron began to want a bit more from his life. During the celebration, he often sneaked away and run all the way to the city. It was astonishing. All the colours and riches and all kinds of fancy things. But life was not all fuzzy and easy. Bad harvest came at times and woods were filled with dangerous beasts. He learned how to fight from his father. They were no soldiers, but they could fend for themselves. However, it was not just beasts hiding behind the curtain of the forest. There, deep under the cover of trees, lived trolls. From a fair distance, Fyldaron observed their dark, yet fascinating rituals. He knew something like this was forbidden, yet still, it piqued his interest.

Then one day the fire came.


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These days the man carried himself high. His groomed face and hair combined with his posture easily evoking a sense of nobility. But all that is just an elaborate ruse brought to near perfection over the ages he lived. Perhaps it was a habit which allowed him to slip into the white cities of old, even if for just a bit. His true home, however, always lied away from those shining walls, deep in the shadowy grows.

A long time has passed since the great war and many things have changed. Gone were the days of grand cities, gone were the days of magic. Instead, the order of piety and druidism came, the age of common folk. Fyldaron was always close to nature and this new way of life was like made for him. There, in the circles, he was taught how to listen to nature and how to make nature listen to him. He learned to speak with animals and trees. This opened a new realm of possibilities for him, a whole new world to explore. This new kind of magic was quite different than the one used by highborne, it was more primal; it reminded him a little about the troll rituals he watched as a child. Perhaps if he tried in investigate secrete a little, he could find out something interesting.




Life went by and seasons past. Roses bloomed, withered and died. What was the point of life and where was nature heading? Not even the ancients had an answer for those questions. But even in darker times, Fylandor knew peace. He separates himself from the traditional circles, for his ideas were far too different from theirs. Many forgot him, perhaps even he himself. Name and family lost in memory. In solace of deep forests, he discovered the nature in his own way. It was the smallest creatures, bugs, spiders and insects who piqued his interest, they became his tiny friends, companions on his journeys through dark places.

The leaf’s purpose is not just to fall. Once it lands on the ground it decays into humus and from that soil, a new life will rise. Life and death are not opposite to each other, they are part of the same cycle. That’s what he came to believe. And he made it his task to protect this cycle. Not just safeguard life, but also bring death. Many could view those ideas as twisted, but is it really so? But life goes on and death is always there.



"Death is the only certainty of life."



Edited by Narazmus

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Not bad. Respect for your knowledge of the separation between upper and lower tier caste of once elves. Nice, poetic lines here and there and a general interesting character 'sheet' with awesome images. It's not much elaborated on why he is called the druid of thorns, maybe you can add something about that? Otherwise awesome man!

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