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About Saarvon

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  • Birthday 04/30/1986

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  1. Full Name: Aldhelm Aelfrick Andrethi Nicknames: Ald Date of Birth: 5 years prior to the First War. Age: 32 Race: Human Gender: Male Hair: Auburn Skin: A healthy tan. Eyes: Pale Blue Height: 6'2" Weight: 224 lbs Place of residence: Dalaran Place of Birth: Stromgarde Known Relatives: Aldhelm's mother died during his birth, leaving his father to raise him and his twin brother Silas, whose life was taken at the outset of the Nexus War with the Blue Dragonflight. Religion/Philosophy: He keeps himself far too occupied in all things arcane to worry about religion. Occupation: Warmage of the Silver Covenant Enemies: The Blue Dragonflight, the Scourge, the Sunreavers and the Horde, blood elves in particular. Likes: Any book that Aldhelm chances upon, he will go to any lengths to "borrow" and transcribe, adding it to his personal library. And for the same desire to expand his knowledge, he enjoys a friendly duel of the arcane with his peers. Weapons of Choice: One of two staves which he and his brother spent long hours crafting for one another's promotion to Warmage of the Kirin Tor. Dislikes: More than anything, he dislikes willful ignorance, because he cannot understand it. Hobbies: Aldhelm loves to cook, and if he had his way, would submit cooking to the Kirin Tor as the fourth school of magic. Physical Features: Aldhelm ties his long Auburn hair back in a pony tail, and otherwise grows a goatee and mustache, both of which seem to accentuate the inquisitive gleam of his pale blue eyes. His face looks about five years younger than his 32 years, as he spends little time dwelling on the things that make him unhappy, which leaves his smooth features with no signs of a permanent frown or a furrowed brow. Positive Personality Traits: Ald's philosophy is to confront problems as they present themselves, and not before. This makes him seem very matter-of-factual and relaxed when speaking of obstacles or difficulties, and therefore easy to be around. Negative Personality Traits: The downside of the above trait is that it would sometimes seem that he does not always appreciate the gravity of a situation. History: Born in Stromgarde five years prior to the First War, Aldhelm traces the history of the Andrethi line as far back as the origins of the Arathi tribe, which he takes great pride in. His father being one of the few battle-mages of Stromgarde, Aldhelm and Silas were naturally encouraged to follow suit. So when all fighting-age Stromgardian men and women marched off to fight alongside Lordaeron in the Second War, Aldhelm and Silas were sent to Dalaran at the young age of eleven, that they might hone their innate arcane abilities and be sooner able to use their powers in service of the Alliance. After five years of rigorous study, Ald and his brother returned to Stromgarde in the middle of an ongoing conflict with the Horde in the south near the Dark Portal, as well as a second front on Stromgarde's doorstep with the Blacktooth Grin Orcs. As Aldhelm still fondly remembers, he, along with his father and brother, had orders to aid in the defense of the northern front against the invading Orcs out of Khaz Modan. There was never a time when Aldhelm felt more powerful, or closer to his father and brother, as when he was standing shoulder-to-shoulder with them, letting loose volley after volley of arcane missiles to cut down the seemingly endless ranks of advancing orcs and ogres. It was a short-lived feeling though, as several nights into the full brunt of an assault, his father was singled out from afar and cursed by an orc warlock, dying soon after. And though they inflicted heavy losses on the orcs, Stromgarde suffered near-fatal damages which are still evident to this day, causing the remaining two Andrethis to re-evaluate how best they could serve the Alliance, to which they both decided on the Kirin Tor, and subsequently relocated to Dalaran in time for its great exodus to Northrend at the start of the Third War. It was during this time that Silas, Aldhelm's brother, fell during one of the larger opening battles between the Kirin Tor and the Blue Dragonflight, while serving in the same unit as Aldhelm. And were he a different person, his brother's death would weigh more heavily on him, But Ald appreciates the risks they both took when they confronted the Blue Dragonflight, and sees the cause as just. So while there is still grief, when speaking of his brother Aldhelm's tone will never be anything other than respect and admiration. Today he lives in Dalaran, where he continues to serve the Alliance and expand his own knowledge and power as a Warmage of the Kirin Tor and Silver Covenant.
  2. In my opinion, people who say that they post on video game forums simply for enjoyment are actually just really bad at it, and are being carried by all the more competent posters in the forum.
  3. ((Not sure if this was the right place to post this...)) The death knight has a half smile on his face as he gazes ahead at nothing, trying to recall all the details for the reporter. "I believe the order's name was... 'Abandon Ship,' or perhaps something else equally as ridiculous. The Watch responded to reports of an ongoing attack in Southshore. Myself and a few others friendly to the Ebon Blade were first to arrive, as we know something of a shortcut to Hillsbrad." He looks down and furrows his brow. "It often seems as though the enemy can sense our approach, as they are never there when we arrive..." "Anyhow, such was the case when myself and a small contingent of the Watch arrived in Southshore, so we decided to ride up in the direction of Tarren Mill and scout for any Horde with suspiciously bloodied armor or weapons. We were at a safe viewing distance when a hunter and some others from this 'Abandon Ship' attacked. And so it began." Saarvon leans forward and rests his arms on the table. "It was... retribution, for a time--worthy for any of the Silver Hand, whom I fought alongside, so many years ago it seems. A hard-fought battle between Alliance and Horde, in which we were mostly successful." His face darkens as he recalls something unpleasant. "There were those in the area who were less seasoned. I yelled for them to flee for their lives, but they simply stood there and waved at me. One forsaken, whom I am certain was insane, started dancing. Needless to say, they were soon felled like blades of grass, by those less... forgiving... than myself." Saarvon shakes his head and sighs heavily. "The Dusk Watch is a stout group of reliable fighters. But we were clearly outnumbered when the Raven Cross chose to appear in force, so we took refuge and sent a courier to search for the Fabled Order. Long story short, the Fabled Order arrived in force as well, bolstering our numbers and prolonging our ability to take the battle to the Cross. This...'Yatokth", was it? I had heard others speaking of him in hushed tones until this night, when him and his order were bested by us near Darrow Hill." A quiet chuckle. "Though I think that the element of surprise may have played a part there..." Saarvon waves his hand dismissively. "No matter. the fighting went on for some time, until I believe morale became an issue and our numbers shrank. Afterwards a small party of the Fabled Order went on to the ruins of Lordaeron, where I hear they held their ground in the Apothecarium of the Undercity for a good while. A mage and I were intent on joining them, though were delayed by a very illusive rogue, whose name I cannot recall." He leans back in his seat and looks at the reporter, the same unfocused gaze and half-smile on his face that he's worn for the past several days. "Surely that will be enough for a page? If not, I am sure there are others more verbose than I..."
  4. <p>I really like your story.</p>

  5. <p>Saavron, please may we speak?</p>

  6. <p>Saavron, please may I speak with you?</p>

  7. <p>Hello!!!</p>

  8. Saarvon smiles lightly at mention of Rohan's latest threat. "He is afraid, or he would not go to such great lengths to prove to the world how strong and fierce he is. Apparently he wants to kill me..." Saarvon shrugs. "If he proves able then I welcome him to it. I may even thank him. Until then he is wasting his time."
  9. Saarvon nods. "I remember crossing blades with this one a few times, though the most recent encounter in Icecrown was more to simply keep him busy. Had I any faith in the light, I would thank it for the flexweave underlay in my cloak, as this Diomades was very fond of hurling me into the distance with blasts of water. Victory, defeat..." Saarvon shrugs. "I did what I set out to do."
  10. Saarvon's helmed head turns a bit to face the reporter from his corner in the tavern. "A formidable opponent. Though I suppose I can also see him as a formidable ally, depending on the season. "He chuckles quietly to himself. "Gave me the fight of both my lives several times... and ruined a fine breastplate..." His head turns to face forward again and waves dismissively at the reporter.
  11. <p>Saarvonnnnnnnn</p>

    <p>Hi.</p>

  12. <p>;-) You too</p>

  13. "They're dead, Saarvon. All of them. Dead -- And I think you already know who is responsible..." The ghoul fixes its empty eye sockets on the face of the newly-sentient death knight, who wears a twisted look of pain, anger and disbelief as he stares back at the horrible visage of his younger brother. "Ardavan, I--I didn't--" The ghoul interrupts him with a hiss of disgust. "You PRESUME to tell ME?!? That you DIDN'T KNOW?! That you didn't take GREAT PLEASURE in--in CONSCRIPTING us?! Please, brother... I know what you experienced. I am there now, thanks to you..." Saarvon and the ghoul stand facing each other on the riverbank of the ruins of Andorhal, on top of a sizeable hill of slain and broken undead, and surrounded by at least two hundred more who had not yet been hewn down by the mad flailing of his blade, all simply standing and watching as the two brothers speak. Saarvon is bloodied and ragged, the hands gripping his sword white-knuckled. Streaks of dirt, blood mark the beginnings of an unkempt beard, and ink-black hair falls matted and disheveled around his neck. Ardavan simply stands and gazes at him with his dead, unfocused eye sockets, knowing what effect it must be having on his brother. He twists his rotted face into a knowing grin. "Yesss... you remember now, don't you, dear brother? You came back home with a band of your 'brothers in arms,'" -- He laughs at this. "Mother and Father could not have been happier to see you, for a few moments. And I would say that you slew your entire family in cold blood, had I not seen the smile on your face before you struck me down." A low, throaty laugh as he sees the emotions playing across Saarvon's face. "So you see, Saarvon... you forced this upon us! And now you abandon us? Your family? To return to the life you once had?" Eye sockets seemingly grow darker as his head bows, shaking slowly in disappointment. "The way I see it, brother... is that you owe us, for what you've done..." A sardonic smile now. "We've missed you so, Saarvon, and there is no going back for us! Will you not return? And stay with your family? It was hardly the homecoming we'd all hoped for, when we last saw you. And besides--" He gestures to the hundreds of ghouls who surround them. "It's not really as if you have much of a choice now, is it?" Saarvon turns away to face the river, feeling sick. He had not expected to find his brother Ardavan among the undead gathered here; not only had he not remembered killing him until now, but he had even entertained a distant hope in the back of his mind that his family (two brothers, a sister and his parents) might still be alive somewhere, picking up the pieces. But he no longer entertained such thoughts. In fact it seemed that he no longer had any thoughts in his mind save for the vivid memories of his younger sister's death, the look of anguish on his father's face (the last look his father's face had had), His mother's uncontrolled wailing as she held her dying daughter, and the valiance and determination of his two brothers as they ran too late to their family's defense, wielding a pitchfork and a branding iron, only to be cut down just as easily by the cold and efficient strikes of Saarvon's sword. He falls to his knees and wretches on the sand, almost simultaneously bursting into sobs as he leans on his sword for support. Between sobs can be heard the beginnings of apologies to each member of his family, cut short by overwhelming grief; "Father, I...didn't...Lili... Rostam..." He places a hand on the ground beside him and wretches once more before falling halfway onto his side, staring at the dirt in front of his face with unfocused eyes. "Saarvon." He can hear his brother shuffle toward him a few steps and props himself back up on all fours, still facing the river. "We forgive you, brother...come back to us, please. It would make mother happy beyond words if we could all be together again..." Saarvon recovers a bit and begins to stand, still leaning on his sword. "They... they are all here, as well, Ard? Father? Mother, Rostam and Lili? Here in Andorhal?" He turns his head to see his brother's solemn nod, then lowers it to face the ground in front of him once more, pondering his brother's offer. A moment passes in which Saarvon seems to convince himself that to return to the Scourge may be the right thing--perhaps Ardavan is right-- perhaps it is the least he can do for his family, to return and be able to make up for lost time, as a whole family, for the first time in too long. Of course things would be different, but-- His expression suddenly changes from one of hopeful contemplation to one of disgust and self-admonition. As he stands, he speaks quietly. "Would that it could be that way, Ardavand. Would that you, Rostam and I could all simply go fishing again. And you are right. I do owe you, brother, for what I have done. So I promise you this--" Ardavan furrows his brow, wondering where Saarvon is going with this. "I will find all of them, Ardavan, and I will put an end to all this." He takes a deep breath and exhales quietly, steeling himself. "Tell them I am sorry." And with that, Saarvon lets loose a bestial roar and spins around, swinging his giant runeblade in an arc from the ground in front of him to the neck of his beloved brother, Ardavan. He awoke with a gasp in the Honor Hold Inn, and jerked upright in his bed, almost immediately regretting the sudden movement, as he saw that his ribs had been bandaged. And as he looked down at the bandages, he found that his head had been bandaged as well, as his eyes protested any movement or change in lighting. "You have been unconscious for 5 days, knight. Whomever it was who did this to you must be mighty indeed..." Saarvon looked slowly to the origin of the voice and, as he had guessed from the thick accent, it was a Draenei. "...Why am I here?" He thought to himself. "Who...--Ivan." "I am Baradar, anchorite and servant to the Naaru. Do you remember who you are?" But at that point Saarvon was already half-running out the door, haphazardly trying to strap on his armor as he summoned his gryphon to him. ((Comments are very much appreciated!))
  14. <p>Well played...</p>

  15. <p>Hey troublemaker! </p>

    <p>When do I get to see this new work of art you've got going? <img src="<fileStore.core_Emoticons>/emoticons/tongue.png" alt=":P" srcset="<fileStore.core_Emoticons>/emoticons/tongue@2x.png 2x" width="20" height="20" /></p>

    <p>Oh.. and you need to check out: <a href="http://forums.pathoshammer.com/" rel="external nofollow">http://forums.pathoshammer.com/</a> </p>

    <p>*coughhintcoughhint*</p>