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Alacardia Arianray

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Full Name: Alacardia Arianray

Nicknames: Alacar

Date of Birth: Unknown

Age: 91

Race: Blood Elf

Gender: Male

Hair: White (Was originally black )

Skin: Pale

Eyes: His eyes don't glow, the iris instead is a dull mercury color

Height: 5' 11"

Weight: 140

Place of residence: Azshara

Place of Birth: Silvermoon

Known Relatives: Deceased

Religion/Philosophy: There are only those who wish to control power, and those who can control it.

Occupation: Head of the Arcane in the Wizards of Dalaran

Group/Guild affiliation: Wizards of Dalaran

Guild Rank: Arcanist

Enemies: None to date.

Likes: Raw power, people who are willing to sacrifice everything for there desires.

Favorite Foods: Pie...mana pie

Favorite Drinks: Eversong wine.

Favorite Colors: Greenish blue, and any color that reminds him of his branch of magic

Weapons of Choice: Weapons are for the uneducated.

Dislikes: Anyone who mocks his craft

Hobbies: Reading up on old world lore. Delving deeper into his art.

Physical Features: Frail in appearance.

Special Abilities: Can draw small traces of mana into him relieving some of the symptoms his studies have brought upon him

Positive Personality Traits: Patient

Negative Personality Traits: Manipulative, power hungry, unforgiving, morbid.

Misc. Quirks: Sometimes speaks in a Dwarven accent. Mainly to confuse the populace.

Theme Songs:

History: Although born in Silvermoon. Alacardia grew up with a clan of dwarves who grew to mock his abilities in magic. Eventually he left them returning to Silvermoon and With Menion Leah and Sylphian Angelmane, helped found The Wizards of Dalaran, In time his love for his magic grew into an obsession and the raw power he was able to conjure began to erode his body physically. as it strengthened him mentally. One night late in his study, the arcanist came across a rather intriguing discovery. Unfortunate the result of it caused the wary mage to vanish for some time. Returning after a long absence the mage seems colder and more power hungry then ever.

Currently: Taking up residence in Azshara. The mages talents are open to all, given the odd, if not reasonable price is paid.

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Menion labored at his work bench, surrounded by the dank scent of the Undercity. Beside him sat several packed boxes, books strewn about as if he were preparing to move.

"Lord Arianray..." He removed the loupe he wore to examine the gems of his craft.

"I actually ran into him not a day before. The Dalaran crater, no less."He cleared his throat and reached for his glass of Junglevine and took a sip.

"What was he doing there? I'm not sure if I wish to know why he was there or where he has been." He shook his head, "A shame really, such talent and tossed away by a lust that will only destroy him."

He placed a well cut gem into his toolbox and closed it up, sealing it with magic.

"I sought to help him once, but I shant do it again. I soon hope to be a married man, and my duties in Dalaran will be many..." he hummed in thought "...may the light protect that man and expel whatever demons possess him."

He lowered his head, half bowing to the interviewer."Now then, if you'll excuse me."

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Nastrus stood indignantly at even being approached, especially in such a casual manner.

" Shouldn't you have crawled up someone's nostrils by now and died?" He tossed his hair behind his back: comparable in length to his brothers, but better kempt.

" I intend to discover what this "wraith" intends to do with my bastard of a half-brother... I am not nearly as stupid as people believe me to be, which in the end falls in my favor doesn't it?"

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Aphraelle stares at the goblin interviewer as if at a bug that had somehow appeared from under a leaf in her salad. Her voice is musical, her Orcish fluent and grammatical but marred by a strong Thalassian accent.

"I've only met him recently. He seems quite knowledgeable, quite polite and, of course, a wizard of some power. Whatever else the Kirin Tor may put up with, I've never heard that they tolerate fools to any great extent. More than that I cannot say. You may go."

At the goblin's hesitation, her eyes narrow and her stare becomes flat and malevolent.

"I said you may go," she repeats as a succubus shimmers into visibility beside her, "unless you would prefer me to let Aelneri here do with you what she does best?"

The goblin's hasty departure is marked by a mocking laugh.

"I thought not."

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