Arktos

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Information

Player: Beltharean

Character Full Name: Arktos Starsong

Character In-Game Name: Arktos

Nickname(s): None, but he does have several titles that he has assigned to himself: Were he to have a herald he would be presented as, “ Lord Arktos Starsong, Head of his House. Savior of the Seven Sisters, Defender of the Faith, Hero of the Troll Wars, and Last of the Emerald Shield.”

Association(s): Shen’Dralar, Darnassus

Race: Night Elf (Highborne)

Class: Warrior

Skills and Abilities: Arktos’ abilities don’t venture outside of the typical Warrior’s spellbook, but he has acquired several items through the millennia that may set him apart. Notably, as he was present for the fall of Galhara, he managed to retrieve several shards of the famous crystals set out along the border of the city. The shards have been inlaid into his shield as a means to fend off magical attacks without ruining the steel beneath. Regular attacks however, still affect it as per usual.

Age: 11,499

Sex: Male

Hair: Dark blue

Eyes: Silver

Scale/Height: 1.12/7’4

Weight: 285 Lbs

Appearance

Usual Garments/Armor: Arktos lives in a bygone era of Highborne luxury, clinging onto past traditions to keep the pain of the centuries at bay. He cloaks himself in fineries of cloth-of-gold, and various extravagantly dyed outfits. His armour is similarly vibrant, every scratch and scruff buffed out, every ding worked out, and polished to perfection. His shield has emeralds inlaid at each corner, and his sword is a finely worked Elven Runeblade passed down from his father to him at the beginning of his career as a soldier.

Personality

As stated above, Arktos holds onto the ancient traditions of the Highborne with a vice-like grip. While the years have softened his view to an extent, he still views the Highborne as above the average Night Elf. Where other races are concerned, they’re beneath even the Kal’dorei. This doesn’t translate to outright hostility by any means, just an air of superiority and entitlement compared to the ‘lesser’ species.

Regardless of how he views local inhabitants Arktos’ strives to please. He is a glory hound in every sense of the word, ever lusting after titles and quests. This was true before the Sundering and after, but with the realization of his mortality upon the second fall of Eldre’thalas he is running after his last chance at glory.

History

Born in the midst of the Highborne’s golden age, Arktos’ father was an affluent sorcerer and merchant who climbed up the societal rungs over the centuries, clambering into a seat in the Nobility through marriage. It wasn’t long (Long in a relative way, considering the span of time the Night Elves live) before there was a child born from the union, and young Arktos was brought into the world. Even at his youngest he was lavished upon by his parents: With clothes, toys, pets, and jewels, as with most any Highborne child.

He grew up in this way, and as the years moved on, he was eventually presented another luxury afforded to his caste. A tutor in the magical arts. He and his tutor worked at the weaving and casting of spells, but it never came as readily as his work in the more physical arts. At first his parents were disappointed in the outcome of his work in the arcane, but realized after a time that despite their original ambitions for him a Highborne Soldier still had room to grow. Someone would need to fill the shoes of Captain Varo’then, Kur’talos Ravencrest, Desdel Stareye, and their ilk.

His work with magic continued, but as an accent and in conjunction with his work with the sword. His parents hired new tutors in the arts of war, and he grew into a warrior of some repute. As he came into his manhood, Arktos took his blade and his knowledge out to the edge of Kal’dorei territory to hold back the trolls and keep their borders. There he stayed for many years, returning to Zin-Azshari from time to time to reconnect with friends and family.

The time spent away from them while on duty however, proved to be too much for comfort, so while on assignment at the borders he convinced a group of his brothers and sisters in arms to return with him to keep the peace closer to the capital. The group turned to the city of Galhara with its emerald barriers, offering their services to them. There they stayed for some years, living in luxury more befitting of his status. There were times they would lust after battle, and some would leave for weeks at a time to return to the borders, Troll or Azj’Aqir, but for the most part they enjoyed their languid days nestled behind the city’s magic barriers.

So it went for some time, until the whispers of brewing in the capital spread to their peaceful haven. The rumours were mixed, but something was clear: Arktos needed to return to Zin-Azshari to check in on his parents. Strange shapes loomed at the corner of his eye, and shadows shifted as he made his way back home, and his pace quickened. By the time he reached the city however, the demons had been let loose. The Highborne had been quarantined from the rest of the populace and the Legion was terrorizing the Kal’dorei districts of the great city. Fires raged, and bodies filled the Well of Eternity.

Arktos did what he could to help hold back the waves of demons, but the city was too far gone for him to attempt a rescue for his parents. He ran while he could with what Kal’dorei he could, back to Galhara behind its magical wards. He waited what part of the war out that he could behind the barriers, but their respite was short lived. The barriers were crushed and the city sacked, and those that lived left to join the Kal’dorei resistance. He was looked down upon, and they were never not wary of him, but it seemed that every helping hand would be needed. He lived out the rest of the war in battle.

As the din died down, and the war came to and end, Arktos moved off to greener pastures along with the rest of his kind: Namely, to areas that were not submerged between the new ocean created by the Sundering. He settled in Ashenvale and took to his new life as readily as possible. The ban on magic, however little it was obeyed by the average Highborne, did little to phase him considering his penchant for the blade. The lack of excitement available to him however, began to take its toll. With several allies he snuck away from Ashenvale in search of their next great adventure.

As they moved out across the remnants of Kalimdor they happened upon the ruins of Eldre’Thalas and the Highborne that remained within. Some remained, and others returned, Arktos a part of the latter group. Magic mattered little to him, but he had left a family behind that he wished to see again, so he set out for Ashenvale once more. Upon his return he lived in relative peace, until the magic the Highborne had used in the shadows began to come out in broad daylight, and the off use of a spell to aid in daily life reverted to the use that the Kal’dorei had viewed as their bane. With the return of magic, the Highborne grew bold, and attempted to unleash their arcane storm.

As the clouds brewed, and the Kal’dorei neared, Arktos grabbed his mount, his friends, and his family, and fled. He fled far south, and took them to the haven of Highborne society: Eldre’thalas. They lived there for millennia unimpeded. The days dragged by, and their immortality was upheld by the ruined Prince ruling over their ruined city, but they survived.

That is, until the slaughter started. The drain of so many elves on Immol’thar was too much for a sustainable future as far as the Prince was concerned, and Arktos’ friends and family fell away one by one. He would never know whether or not his survival was by luck or by choice, but in the latter years of the Shen’dralar’s survival he knew the ghosts of his loved ones roamed the city’s halls, lusting for revenge. There was nothing he could do however, and so he lived, in a constant state of readiness to hold off the King’s men and women that would surely come for him.

Before that day came however, the city was liberated by races from a world half-forgotten, that had changed so much since he had last been outside the walls of Dire Maul. The Prince died, and with his death, they were freed. Immol’thar was gone with him, and mortality hit him for the first time in his life. The others were the same, and so the Shen’dralar sent an envoy to their long forgotten cousins to the north, the Night Elves. Their reply took much deliberation, and much time, but soon enough the Highborne were returned to Night Elven society, and Arktos was freed from his prison in the ruins.