Dulthaan

Information

(The Black Dragon's personality was written as this so as to make it significantly easier to be a Dragonsworn of him. While still evil, he is not as kill-happy as the others of his flight currently. He will turn fully evil/insane by Cataclysm, and thus the Dragonsworn who serve him will be dropped from service, or become NPCs to be killed.)

Profile Creator: Xigo

Name: Dulthaan

Flight: Black

Gender: Male

Preferred Disguise

Human, black hair and dark eyes, often clad in extravagant garbs. Note - This is only assumed if he needs to represent himself in a mortal form. Otherwise he will take whatever disguise is best for the task at hand, regardless of whether it's a bum or a noble, an orc or an elf.

Long Term Goals

• Increase my holdings
• Ensure they and myself are not threatened
• Be prepared for father's eventual return
• Avoid drawing attention to myself, or giving a potential threat reason to pursue me
• Find a way to keep these voices from my mind, and potentially from my kin as well

Short Term Goals

• Acquire additional servants
• Enjoy myself without causing chaos. Isolation can be boring
• Ensure Azeroth is not majorly threatened, after all, it's my home

Personality

Dulthaan is a cautious individual, believing himself to stand upon a precarious metaphorical platform which could tip over with the slightest miscalculation. As such, he has a tendency to over-think things, trying to account for every detail. While he does enjoy his plans and anticipations proving to be right and proper, he can adjust them according to changes. Expect absolute befuddlement for a brief moment if he has to completely rethink something.

He is interested in his own display of power. Thus, whether due to how others perceive an item (priceless painting, trophy of one of his kills) or it actually being powerful (burning blade of badassery), he will often pursue trinkets and artifacts in order to add them to his hoard. After all, a dragon with a glorious stash must be glorious himself. Slights to his ego are not taken lightly, though he's not one to kill unless outright insulted. If someone's respectful to him, he is respectful in kind, only insulting ones who insult him. This even applies to foes (though he will still kill them if given the opportunity).

He finds mortals interesting, largely due to how such puny and pathetic beings have managed to shape the course of Azeroth's history thus far. As a whole, they have his respect. Individually, he recognizes that they are inferior to him. He bestows rewards upon those who serve him, often a trinket of lesser value from his hoard, more frequently giving them to those he believes to be useful. He will keep poor servants so long as they serve him, and do not do anything that might harm him. Otherwise, the individual shall be made an example of before his peers. This usually results in death. He only takes servants that he believes would be useful in the first place, so this is rare.

Today he finds himself waging an internal war, fighting with mysterious voices for control over his thoughts. Sometimes it's hard for him to determine which words are his, and as such, he can sometimes seem erratic in his behavior. One moment he could cry out for blood to be spilled, the next he could be displaying his normal persona, and the next he could be grieving. This nature normally only comes out when he is alone or stressed, as his desire to maintain an image pushes back these chaotic thoughts when he concentrates. He does have a tendency to mutter to himself when he thinks no one is listening.

History

A young drake's wings carried him through the clear night sky, the moon's light guiding his flight. For the past few days he had felt a strange sensation within his mind, causing him to neglect his duties to Azeroth. Confused and dismayed, his course was set for his mother's lair, to seek her council on matters that be.

A great beast of black and molten red passed by his gaze in an instant. It took him a moment to realize that it was a dragon, the aspect Neltharion at that. The drake called out to his draconic patron, pursuing briefly before realizing the effort was futile. His brow furrowing in thought, he sped towards his original destination, another question being added to the many he would ask.

The deep cavern his mother and her brood lived in was dark, flames that once kept it warm and lit extinguished. "... Mother?" Worry carried the drake's words. "Brothers!? Sisters!?" The only response was his echo. Natural dark-vision serving him well, he began to run.

He allowed himself to be relieved as he saw a flickering mass of flames up ahead. "Mother! What has ha-." His voice halted as his pace slowed down, coming to a still.

Before him rested his beloved mother, body torn asunder by claw and fire, surrounded by her shattered eggs. Tears billowed in her son's eyes as he slowly stepped closer to her. He attempted to nudge her head with his own, but the painful flames denied him even the comforts of physical contact. His eyes shut tightly as he dropped to the ground in despair.

"She was weak."

His eyes snapped open, a voice whispering in his mind.

"She died because of this weakness."

"Who dares speak!?" His eyes darted about frantically. "Show yourself!"

"Neltharion is strong. Those who follow him will be strong as well.

The drake rose to his claws, roaring, daring the unseen speaker to step forth.

"You will follow him. You will be strong. Or you too shall fall."

---

As one might assume from the previous passage, Dulthaan was but a young drake when his kind descended into madness. His mother was a loving dragon, wise and nurturing. She would be slain during Deathwing's quest to mate with every single dragon he had fornicated with in the past, intercourse with him resulting in her death.

As the black dragons began their hunts and quests for personal power, Dulthaan hid himself away, fighting against the voices that sought to control him. Knowing all too well he was too weak to stand up in the political games of his flight, he remained away from his kin, living as a recluse for centuries as his power festered.

It was only when he grew to his full size that he allowed his ambition to carry him. He felt a desire, a need to prove himself to his kindred. And he did this the only way he knew how. By being a threat. Drakes and dragons of all flights were hunted by him during this period, only going for those he knew for certain he could overcome. He would poison, steal, backstab, murder. Anything to further his own standing. Relationships were fickle, and only a means to an end. He had none to confide in, for none trusted him, those of other flights who would have once pitied him now being disgusted as he committed acts of cannibalism.

This path of destruction would come to an abrupt end after defeating one of the bronze dragonflight. Those of her brood fled for their lives as Dulthaan committed his usual acts of decadence upon his broken prey. All save one. A lone drake taking to the defense of the mother.

The tiny fragment of Dulthaan's 'humanity' cried out at this youth's act, fighting with his tainted heart to stay his claw. To flee. To escape. It was only after swatting aside the drake like the annoying gnat it was that he did flee, leaving a broken mother with her crippled child.

He would escape to his lair, sleeping for years as an internal turmoil raged within his mind. Nightmares assaulted him, produced by both stress and the continual barrage he had always received from the green flight after his first kill. When he awoke though, his mind was his once more, though only barely.

The voices that had once faded into his subconsciousness now wrestle with him for control again, thoughts that are not his now invading his mind. He tries to fight them, though such is a challenge at times. Knowing all too well that he could slip up, he has become a recluse once again, not leaving his lair for long periods of time.

Today, he gathers artifacts of power, in the hope that they might abstain the continual lust he feels for them. And they do, to a point. His great horde keeps his conscious satiated, convinced that he is indeed powerful. With a continual supply of them being brought in by servants, he has no need to risk unleashing himself upon the outside world. As long as he stayed within his lair both he and Azeroth are safe.

Whispers in his mind order him to commit acts of unforgivable evil every waking moment. But he fights them. He knows he is strong enough to resist. And he knows that one day he will find the source of these voices and eradicate them. He would be free of his kind's curse.

(Spoiler: He won't.)