Post by Pseunora on Dec 29, 2010 10:12:01 GMT -5
((Well, this is the first time commiting this to actual type, rather than buzzing around in my head... here's hoping it came out right! ))
As a young boy, Annomandaris was an unremarkable child with big dreams. His father a paladin of distinguished record, from a hereditory line of distinguished paladins; his mother a respected magister, both regailed him with stories from ages past, of mighty heroes, noble deeds, and the proud history of their people. His father impressed upon him the importance of duty, honour, and the keeping of one's word. The boy dreamed of what it would be like, when he followed the family tradition and became a paladin, of becoming as celebrated a hero as those in the stories. He he grew, he believed his people the strongest in the world, with un-matched strength, and unrivaled wisdom.
Then the scourge came.
The sacking of Quel'thalas, the destruction of the Sunwell, and the ruin inflicted on the city of Silvermoon mattered very little to the young Annomandaris compared to the loss of his family. His parents had fought valiantly in defense of the homeland, but alas, not very successfully, and were counted amongst the many dead.
He was the last of the D'Sarths.
Many emotions warred within him; anger for his loss, disbelief that this could be done to the vaunted Quel'dorei, mightiest of peoples... and shame that he was both stil alive, and his inability to fight. In a moment that only later would strike him as oddly reminiscent of the stories he had grown up with, he swore on the graves of his father and mother, that he would not disappoint them again.
When the order of the Blood Knights was established not too long after, Annomandaris duly signed up.
It was not what he had expected; and certainly not, with the draining of the Naaru M'uru, what he considered true to the spirit of it's predecessors... but he did it anyway. He had a duty to perform, and memories to protect.
The machinations of the Alliance, and subsequent joining of the Sin’dorei to the Horde, were completely unforseen. The members of the Alliance, whom he had been long tought were just and fair, had seemingly betrayed them all. He knew not how or why, but the knowledge angered him only just slightly more than the new peoples they were aligned to. He did not trust the Trolls or the Orcs, knew little of the Tauren, and found it hard to seperate the Forsaken from those who had killed his family, even if they were lead by a former Ranger General. This attitude remained for several more years, an unshakeable belief in his race's own primacy, even as he fought beside them in conflicts both on Azeroth, and the shattered world of Outland.
As fate would have it, he was accompanying a band of fellow Blood Knights on a mission to protect a delegation from Orgrimmar destined for Silvermoon, when the fresh Scourge invasion began. The major cities of Azeroth once again were assailed by the minions of the Lich King. His own party was overwhelmed, outnumbered, but he could not flee... he had sworn to protect the orcs, as much as he despised them. As the delegates made their escape, Annomandaris stood his ground, cursing his sworn oaths of duty, cursing Orcs everywhere, and most of all cursing that this was how he was going to end. He died with the curses on his lips.
His story would have ended there, if not for the intervention of the Lich King. Raising the fallen warrior, Annomandaris was made into a Death Knight, a commander of the Scourge legions. Not much is exactly known about his actions and involvements before the Battle for Light’s Hope, nor is he particularly want to share. He retained some memories of his life before, a spotty sense of whom he was; some particularly vidid and keen, but with other huge gaps. He had retained his view of ‘his own people first’, which in a sense had been partly twisted to accommodate his new role. When the Knights of the Ebon Blade were betrayed at the Battle for Light’s Hope, this seemed to have a new, fundamental betrayal for the elf. His subsequent reception amongst those in Silvermoon was equally galling. He found himself merely tolerated, an outsider, and Not One of Them. The assurances of the head of the Order did little to assuage the other elves fear, and as such, Annomandaris departed the city, choosing the path of swordsman-for-hire, and maintaining only a loose association to his fellow Knights.
Yet, he still felt the pull of his former home... he still held them in high regard... still wanted to be part of it again. His journeying took him to Northrend during the campaign against the Lich King, and eventually the Argent Tournament. By this time, a greater desire to prove himself had settled within his still heart, to show the others that he was worthy of his original birth. Annomandaris entered the Argent Tournament with sizeable determination, battling until was officially named as a Champion of Silvermoon, earned the right to wear the city’s tabard, and to do so with pride. Even this, however, did little to bridge the gulf; the warm reception he had hoped for was still not present amongst the citizenry. Initially, he took this as a sign that he still had more to prove... taking a greatsword of the sin’dorei and reforging it into a runeblade, to serve as a reminder of what he was fighting for, he joined the assault on Icecrown Citadel with his fellow Knights of the Ebon blade. Charged with holding one of the first halls of the citadel from repeated Scourge attacks, he once again did his duty, until eventually the news came: the Lich King had fallen, slain by a band of brave heroes led by Lord Fordring himself.
The aftermath did not bring the cheers he had been hoping for. Nothing had changed: he was still an undead monster in the eyes of the people of Silvermoon. Bitter and angry at this, he once more set out to wander as a sellsword. He still holds his former people in high regard, still yearns to be accepted by them, but recently, these are even more buried than before by frustration and anger.
As a young boy, Annomandaris was an unremarkable child with big dreams. His father a paladin of distinguished record, from a hereditory line of distinguished paladins; his mother a respected magister, both regailed him with stories from ages past, of mighty heroes, noble deeds, and the proud history of their people. His father impressed upon him the importance of duty, honour, and the keeping of one's word. The boy dreamed of what it would be like, when he followed the family tradition and became a paladin, of becoming as celebrated a hero as those in the stories. He he grew, he believed his people the strongest in the world, with un-matched strength, and unrivaled wisdom.
Then the scourge came.
The sacking of Quel'thalas, the destruction of the Sunwell, and the ruin inflicted on the city of Silvermoon mattered very little to the young Annomandaris compared to the loss of his family. His parents had fought valiantly in defense of the homeland, but alas, not very successfully, and were counted amongst the many dead.
He was the last of the D'Sarths.
Many emotions warred within him; anger for his loss, disbelief that this could be done to the vaunted Quel'dorei, mightiest of peoples... and shame that he was both stil alive, and his inability to fight. In a moment that only later would strike him as oddly reminiscent of the stories he had grown up with, he swore on the graves of his father and mother, that he would not disappoint them again.
When the order of the Blood Knights was established not too long after, Annomandaris duly signed up.
It was not what he had expected; and certainly not, with the draining of the Naaru M'uru, what he considered true to the spirit of it's predecessors... but he did it anyway. He had a duty to perform, and memories to protect.
The machinations of the Alliance, and subsequent joining of the Sin’dorei to the Horde, were completely unforseen. The members of the Alliance, whom he had been long tought were just and fair, had seemingly betrayed them all. He knew not how or why, but the knowledge angered him only just slightly more than the new peoples they were aligned to. He did not trust the Trolls or the Orcs, knew little of the Tauren, and found it hard to seperate the Forsaken from those who had killed his family, even if they were lead by a former Ranger General. This attitude remained for several more years, an unshakeable belief in his race's own primacy, even as he fought beside them in conflicts both on Azeroth, and the shattered world of Outland.
As fate would have it, he was accompanying a band of fellow Blood Knights on a mission to protect a delegation from Orgrimmar destined for Silvermoon, when the fresh Scourge invasion began. The major cities of Azeroth once again were assailed by the minions of the Lich King. His own party was overwhelmed, outnumbered, but he could not flee... he had sworn to protect the orcs, as much as he despised them. As the delegates made their escape, Annomandaris stood his ground, cursing his sworn oaths of duty, cursing Orcs everywhere, and most of all cursing that this was how he was going to end. He died with the curses on his lips.
His story would have ended there, if not for the intervention of the Lich King. Raising the fallen warrior, Annomandaris was made into a Death Knight, a commander of the Scourge legions. Not much is exactly known about his actions and involvements before the Battle for Light’s Hope, nor is he particularly want to share. He retained some memories of his life before, a spotty sense of whom he was; some particularly vidid and keen, but with other huge gaps. He had retained his view of ‘his own people first’, which in a sense had been partly twisted to accommodate his new role. When the Knights of the Ebon Blade were betrayed at the Battle for Light’s Hope, this seemed to have a new, fundamental betrayal for the elf. His subsequent reception amongst those in Silvermoon was equally galling. He found himself merely tolerated, an outsider, and Not One of Them. The assurances of the head of the Order did little to assuage the other elves fear, and as such, Annomandaris departed the city, choosing the path of swordsman-for-hire, and maintaining only a loose association to his fellow Knights.
Yet, he still felt the pull of his former home... he still held them in high regard... still wanted to be part of it again. His journeying took him to Northrend during the campaign against the Lich King, and eventually the Argent Tournament. By this time, a greater desire to prove himself had settled within his still heart, to show the others that he was worthy of his original birth. Annomandaris entered the Argent Tournament with sizeable determination, battling until was officially named as a Champion of Silvermoon, earned the right to wear the city’s tabard, and to do so with pride. Even this, however, did little to bridge the gulf; the warm reception he had hoped for was still not present amongst the citizenry. Initially, he took this as a sign that he still had more to prove... taking a greatsword of the sin’dorei and reforging it into a runeblade, to serve as a reminder of what he was fighting for, he joined the assault on Icecrown Citadel with his fellow Knights of the Ebon blade. Charged with holding one of the first halls of the citadel from repeated Scourge attacks, he once again did his duty, until eventually the news came: the Lich King had fallen, slain by a band of brave heroes led by Lord Fordring himself.
The aftermath did not bring the cheers he had been hoping for. Nothing had changed: he was still an undead monster in the eyes of the people of Silvermoon. Bitter and angry at this, he once more set out to wander as a sellsword. He still holds his former people in high regard, still yearns to be accepted by them, but recently, these are even more buried than before by frustration and anger.
Founded April 26, 2005