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Player: dragonmad

Character Full Name: Basirion Sunshroud

Character In-Game Name: Basirion

Association(s): The Horde (In name only), Silvermoon (In name only)

Race: Blood Elf

Class: Necromancer

Age: 234

Sex: Male

Hair: Black

Eyes: Fel-Green, though a bit darker and dimmer than most.

Weight: 145 lbs.

Height: 6' 0"


Basirion has always had a flare for the dramatic. He favors dark, flowy clothing, whether robes, a hood and cloak, or so on. It varies with his mood but generally has a sort of "dark man of mystery" feel to it. Well, he believes it has that sort of feel.


If ever there were a word for Basirion's personality, it'd be "big". Even now, with the onset of Necromantic corruption, Basirion is a lively individual, but one of a level head. He's rarely seen flying rapidly from one emotion to the next. When he feels joy, he'll cheer obnoxiously, without heed to any disapproval. When angry, his rage could be compared to a tempest (or more realistically, to a very annoyed Hawkstrider). It isn't in his nature to hold a grudge in most cases, save betrayal, either. To see him fly from one to the other is a sight to behold, but in general Basirion will keep a cool head and transition slowly from one extreme to the other.


Basirion always wanted to be a hero. He wanted to be right in the thick of it, not hiding behind spells and wards. His parents, both Arcanists of reasonable skill in their own right, were less than thrilled at how quickly their son desired to enter the Farstriders. He was barely into adulthood when the youth entered, and soon he was out of their home.

His time as a Farstrider took him to the edges of Quel'thalas, stationed in Suncrown Village. It was a small community, a little eccentric in their value of the Light above pure Arcane, but Basirion didn't mind. Being so far from home, he saw it as reason to add value to his role in their defender. When the time came, it would be him against the threats that arrived.

The threats never did, but his wife came into his life a decade or so after Basirion's assignment. She was a Priestess, come to the village to train and develop her abilities and love for the Light. To her, Basirion doubted he was even noticed, but his decision was firm. He'd fallen in love at first sight.

Their courtship moulded him some, modeled Basirion from a gung-ho idiot child into a more respectable guardian. It was no longer about heroics, but about helping people, he realized. It can be questioned who really courted who in their hot-and-cold running years of bonding, but in the end the pair were married. Basirion a bit stronger of heart for it; Velial a bit stronger of confidence.

Eventually a year of marriage passed, and the pair set out into the world, Basirion and Velial wandering the edges of Quel'thalas and shirking whatever duties it might be said they had. They still performed their respective roles, just in a less official manner. An entire decade of wandering, of heartfelt bonding passed before one day, Basirion's wife was gone. She'd left a note, left him alone.

Something small snapped, then. He'd lost her. He, the hero of his own story, had lost the girl. It wasn't going to be a happy ending for him, Basirion realized, but perhaps that was acceptable. It was, he decided, time for a change. Time to accept the calling he'd denied long ago. Magic was in his blood, was it not?

He set off for Dalaran, eager to change his ideas and make a proper name.

Basirion was not a great Mage. Years passed, and he was adequate, but no more so, and barely below average. He merely couldn't fall into Pyromancy, and fared a little better with Cryomancy and general use of Arcane, but it wasn't until a fateful encounter in a tavern that he started on the path to what he'd spend the rest of his life upon.

It was just rumor, really. Some two or three years before the Third War, Basirion heard of a mage wielding power over the Dead. It intrigued him, inspired him. In the years that followed, he found a teacher (perhaps a novice in their own right, but in the fledgling days of Necromancy before the Scourge any knowledge was better than none) in Dalaran's darker, seedier parts. His mind raced, and he took to this new, forbidden magic with the enthusiasm that draws a fish to water. This, he decided, was his real calling. He would be a master of that which exists beyond life, a master of death itself.

When the Scourge came for Dalaran, he almost faltered. Still, his independent abilities kept him alive, kept him from falling to these far more powerful, more well-trained Necromancers. He felt powerful, he felt like he could use this. In some twisted, heartening way, he felt like a hero.

He returned to Silvermoon in time to become a Sin'dorei, in time to taste Fel. The Sunwell and Arthas passed and he paid little mind. He had the power he wanted, and had no intent of becoming a soldier again. If Basirion was going to enter any conflict, he'd do it on his own terms.

Skills and Abilities

Basirion is a fairly accomplished wielder of Necromancy. Generally speaking he can confidently handle most reasonable spells relating to the Death school or the practice of controlling the undead. On the opposing end of that, he's sacrificed most of his ability to wield Fire and basic Arcane magics, but he can handle just enough to pass for a Mage if the need arises.
Physical prowess
While nowhere near the abilities he once held, Basirion was a Farstrider once. He may not be able to fight toe-to-toe with one anymore, but he's more than capable of throwing a mean right hook.