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About Ardyan

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  • Birthday 01/11/1984

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  1. We're grateful that you do as much as you do, Mortica!
  2. <p>Looking forward to meeting!</p>

  3. Full name: Ardyan Spellgrace Nicknames: Ardy Age: Young adult Race: Blood Elf Gender: Male Hair: Blonde Skin: Light Eyes: Green Height: Average Weight: Slender Place of residence: Silvermoon Known relatives: Mother; father; younger sister Religion/philosophy: For Quel'thalas. Occupation: Magister Positive personality traits: Intelligent; hard-working. Negative personality traits: Manipulative; arrogant. (He's a blood elf.) Misc. quirks: Does not like being touched. History: Ardyan is of the noble house Spellgrace. With a long line of magisters before him, his success in the field of the arcane was more expected than impressive, though he is one of the youngest to achieve full magister rank in recent history. He applies himself fully to his work and less so to the political or social scenes, but his talents and name have earned him allies and respect nonetheless. Ardyan's clique: Nicoalas Dusksinger – Ardyan's best friend and accomplished rogue. His family is long indebted to the Spellgraces and are their most loyal and unquestioning ally. He unfailingly agrees with whatever Ardyan proposes. Sildei Verdantin – A peer and friend of Ardyan's. As a priest, he is gifted in both Shadow and Light, and with this duality to give him a greater perspective he is often the voice of reason for the group. Ardyan is smart enough to listen to him. Zirche Phoebus Callan – A warlock of questionable morality and loyalty. He is, however, useful and easily controlled, proving bad at covering up his transgressions on his own and a coward when outmatched, so Ardy has no problems keeping him around. Brenn Kirst – An old Forsaken warrior who has served the Spellgrace family since before the blood elves came to the Horde. Taciturn to almost the point of muteness, his motivations are a secret known only to Ardyan's parents, but he guards Ardyan's life with his own when asked. Hernius Thel'deron – Ardyan's overseer and accomplished magister, who is getting on in age. He has a vested interest not only in Ardyan's success, which bolsters his own, but his protégé's field of research. Seranah Furozhe – Ardyan's on again, off again girlfriend. Her plain face and droll speech often get her underestimated, with her acerbic wit and keen mind usually concealed until it is time to strike. As a successful Ranger, she commands a small squad of other archers. She often disagrees with Ardy and does not hesitate to follow her own path.
  4. He wasn’t above recognizing his own hypocrisy. Ten minutes ago, he’d sooner have eaten dirt than anything any of the vendors were serving, and now he had a plate with a devil dog in his lap. And all it had taken was a pretty woman. A pretty, enigmatic woman, but still; Ardyan knew he was being ridiculous, though he found he didn’t much care. He would have done much more to keep her attention had it been necessary. “What do you remember?” he asked her. She was tilting the devil dog, watching the relish slide slowly toward one end, but answered him readily. “I woke up in the fog not long ago.” She looked up at him with those guileless gray eyes. “Where are we?” “The Darkmoon Faire,” he responded. He picked up his devil dog but paused, unsure if he could bring himself to take a bite. He spoke more to mask his hesitation. “You speak Thalassian… Do you have any other knowledge?” She frowned, thinking. “I don’t know,” she said after a moment. “Like what?” “About the world,” he said. “Do you know any locations? Can you name any cities, landmarks, or nations? That can help determine where you might be from.” “No,” she said quietly, after a moment. “I can’t think of any places.” She looked down at the devil dog, then finally took a bite out of it. He watched as for a few moments she chewed, her expression slowly growing more perplexed. Then she looked at him, and Ardyan quickly took a bite of his. It turned out to not be completely inedible, but it was rather salty, probably to ensure drink sales. He swallowed and said, “I’ll get us some drinks.” He returned shortly and offered her one of the two small glass bottles of cola he’d obtained from a goblin vendor. Picking up his plate and sitting back down on the log next to her, he observed her expression as she sipped the beverage. It, too, appeared to baffle her. “It… sparkles,” she said. “Carbonation,” he said. “Seems like you’ve never had a soda before. So, not much interaction with goblins.” She looked at him. “What are goblins?” He pointed out the vendor to her. That led to him naming each of the races that were in sight, from humans to orcs to tauren to dwarves. “And I’m Sin’dorei,” he finished. “Or, as the orcs say, blood elf.” Scrutinizing him, she slowly reached up to feel one of her ears. “I am too?” she said. “Well…” He paused. “I’m not sure. Your skin is darker than any Sin’dorei I’ve ever met. And your eyes don’t glow the right color.” She looked at him blankly, and he explained, “They’re gray. Here, I’ll show you.” He took her plate and set both plates aside, then rose and offered her his hand. She took it, and he drew her to her feet. From there, it was a minor cantrip to make a mirror image of her appear, something the most novice mage could manage, but it made her gasp in surprise. Then she studied her reflection. Her hand moved to her neck, where the ribbon encircled, then to her waist, where the corset hugged her slender figure. “That’s me,” she said, not quite a question, but wondering. “It is,” he agreed. And it was at that moment he realized he could tell her anything, and she would believe him.
  5. “Really? You want to go to a faire?” Ardyan had asked. But Nico insisted it would be fun, and the other guys bought into the idea. Ardyan let himself be dragged along, acting like he thought it was stupid the whole time, although he was kind of curious himself. And it had turned out to be fairly interesting. While the games were a joke, and the food nothing he’d touch with a ten-foot fork, Ardyan found that as a people-watcher, there was no lack of unusual individuals to observe. Half-orcs, midget dwarves, fire jugglers, gnomes on stilts, trolls with tusks longer than his forearm. The guys took turns pointing the weirdest out to each other, and even though it often went to show how sheltered they were, Ardyan didn’t care. It was true he didn’t get out of Silvermoon often, but he’d never really wanted to. The important work was being done in the magisters’ enclave, and that was where he belonged, working to restore Silvermoon’s power and prestige. To rise in the magisters’ ranks took not only talent but hard work, and anyone not fully dedicated to Silvermoon simply would never achieve a position of note. Ardyan fully intended otherwise for himself. Of course, he was still a junior magister, but several of his projects had earned recognition, and in fact a number of well-respected magisters were vying to take him on as their protégé. Remembering that made him smirk as he watched Nico and his other friends try to hit a target not five feet away from them and fail. It was always best to hang out with those who made you look good. He had stepped up to take up one of the rifles – almost certainly rigged to not fire straight, but he thought he’d plotted the trajectory on this one – when Nico elbowed him and pointed off to his left. “Whoa, take a look at that one!” he said with the chortle that was signature to a young man looking at a woman of some kind. Ardyan glanced over, expecting to see another heavyweight orc matron, or gnome triplets, or who knows what, but that wasn’t what he saw. What he saw was an elf. But one unlike any he’d ever seen before. His brain refused to decide whether she was Kal- or Quel’dorei. She had bright blonde hair, but her skin was a dusky tan. She was tall, but had slender limbs. Her ears didn’t quite point straight up or directly back. Then she looked across the way, meeting his eyes, and it felt like being punched in the chest, such that if he’d been able to move, he would have looked at Nico to see what had prompted it. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t wrench his gaze away. Her eyes glowed gray, like the fog that surrounded this island, like the sea at a storm, like silver and steel. It didn’t make any sense. Framed by her golden hair, eerily luminous in her tan-complexioned, heart-shaped face, her eyes were unlike any of the known races of elves. And for some reason he couldn’t fathom, it completely stunned him. Nico noticed his reaction. His friend pursed his lips and let out a low whistle. “She’s built nice, but a half-breed, Ardy? Even if you got her in the water, that mud’s not going to wash off her skin.” Nico laughed. “Shut up,” Ardyan said, then set down the rifle unused and walked away. Nico was startled enough to neither object nor follow. She’d turned away from him and was walking down the way, looking at the booths. Ardyan noticed what she wore: red and black robes of a dark sorcerer’s style, with a corset and no gloves. A black ribbon encircled her neck. The fashion of it was completely incongruous, though it took him a moment to realize why. It wasn’t just the color of her eyes that had stunned him. It was the look in them. There had been nothing there but complete innocence, touched only by wonder. It was the gaze of someone who had never heard a cruel word uttered, who could not comprehend of pain or suffering. What on Azeroth, or any of the other worlds for that matter, was she? He had to find out.