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Player: c0rzilla

Character Full Name: Ithildess Pyrefeather

Character In-Game Name: Ithildess

Nickname(s): ----

Association(s): Silvermoon, Scryers, Argent Crusade

Race: Blood Elf

Class: Priest

Skills and Abilities: Fury of the Sun - Her smite takes the form of a javelin of holy flame, instead of a simple beam. As fire tends to do, lingering damage is a possibility for her targets.

Sun's Corona - Her Power Word: Shield's tranquil bubble of light is replaced by an aura of holy flame. A strike against her (or another she casts it on) with this up might cause a righteous singe or two.

Renewing Flame - Her healing also takes the form of holy flame. She isn't the best healer, and as such this fire cauterizes the wound at first, before leaving the wound smoothly healed. Pain can range from a burning tingle, to feeling like the wound is actually being cauterized, depending on complexity.

Sun Flare - Her Holy Nova, instead of a burst of holy sparkles, is a nova of golden flame. Lingering damage is a possibility here as well. Fire 'n stuff.

Flagellation – Having been corrupted into a fel-sworn in Outland, Ithildess was changed and cursed by a Shivan to have a painful reaction to Light. Her own use of it, and its use on her. Her skin becomes irritated, dry, and peeling, as if suffering a severe sunburn. Too much will render her ill.

Age: 532

Sex: Female

Hair: Pale blonde.

Eyes: Bright fel green

Weight: 130lbs

Height: 5'8"


Other: Her skin is very dark, ruddy, and spotted with dry patches, a result of copious amounts of fel channeling during her time with the Sunfuries in Outland. She takes care to use perfumed lotion to tend to her "condition". As well, the fellish glow to her eyes is rather bright, but not quite as much as a full warlock.

As she reveres the sun, naaru, and well (three parts of a higher concept) her robes bear symbols of the solar disk.


Ithildess is distant, quiet, and watchful. Perhaps a little stiff as well, as she tries to quell her previous pride as a fiery arcane user, and adopt the mantle of a priest. After her past, she feels one misstep will be her ruin

She has a high distrust for warlocks and fel users, as any one of them could tempt her back into the practice. Or, worse, summon her currently nebulous mistress. Relatedly, she keeps as mum as possible about her past.

She still possesses the view that the sin'dorei are superior, though the other races are not without value. Her lessons and trials as a priest are subduing this.


Ithildess--then named Rayfeather--was born to a family of mages, a couple of whom had become magisters in Silvermoon's hierarchy. As such, she grew with the niceties and education associated with such a rank. For decades building up to a few centuries, she studied on her way to master fire evocation, the only major happening in Silvermoon society being the formation of the Farstriders. Otherwise, she dealt with the usual trials and tribulations of an upper-middcleclass mage.

The First War came and went, the Silvermoon elves--including Ithildess--staying out of it for the most part.

With the arrival of the Second War came the introduction of the orcs. Foul, fellish brutish things. Ithildess was sent to aid her brothers and sisters and their new compatriots in the Alliance. Her first taste of war opened her eyes to some extent. While the quel'dorei were the height of races, they could not always survive alone behind their white and blue walls.

A new threat did come, and like last time Ithildess went to confront it with Kael'thas' troops, suffering under the torpor brought on by the corruption, and following destruction of the Sunwell. Serving under her prince, she was set under the bigoted eye of Garithos.

Suffering the sudden cutting off of the Sunwell's energies, followed by the betrayal of Garithos and the humans, she fell into a torpor with the rest of her mage fellows, their lethargy and need for magic more severe than their warrior and Farstrider brothers and sisters.

She remained in Kael'thas' forces, receiving word that little of her home in Quel'thalas was left. Her family was not among what remained. It was at this time, she took the name of Pyrefeather, in memory of her fallen family and others, and let the fires of her magic create "pyres" for the sin'dorei's foes.

Reaching the ruined realm of Outland, a mixture of awe at the raw power available and doubt as to their ultimate path began to weigh on her shoulders. The doubt would be pushed further down under the deep lake of magic addiction, and the rush these new fel energies gave her. And though it was pushed down, it did not go away—it grew, hidden. Ithildess picked up the destructive path of the warlock quickly, as opposed to demonic control or afflicting foes.

Ithildess continued along this path more and more out of an instinct to survive than any roaring patriotism. She did not see any other alternative except to succumb to power—you either wielded it, or were crushed by it. She did not feel any particular hatred or joy when Kirin Var was destroyed. The raid to take Tempest Keep unnerved her, however. Though they won, the sight of the radiant Naaru had her questioning this dynamic of power, and fed the seed of doubt that had been burrowing roots and sprouting.

She would travel with the Sunfury to Shadowmoon, finally truly witnessing what the Legion could bring. The Legion would notice her as well. Here, she encountered a Shivarra in service to Illidan, one of many. The Shivraa would give Ithildess an offer of power—for a price, naturally. A fair number of her brethren had pacts with demons by now, so this seemed a natural progression to her—another attempt to survive. Ithildess accepted, and was darkly blessed with chaotic power, knowledge, and a curse. The Shivan were the priestesses of the Legion, and this particular one would make sure Ithildess would not sway to any other faith. The demon cursed Ithildess' being over time to have a demonic reaction to Light.

The chance to turn away seemed very far by now. Too far.

Ithildess remained in Shadowmoon, eventually being stationed on the Karabor terraces. Under the guidance of the Shivarra, Ithildess oversaw and taught other users of demonic flame in preparation for the coming onslaught of the Sha'tar, Alliance, and Horde.

She did not expect the sight of the naaru, Xi'ri once those combined forces finally arrived. The doubt that been rooting and sprouting so long finally blossomed. Suffering a brief breakdown as the horror crashed upwards inside her, she secluded herself as best she could on the terraces. After the tears dried on her darkened skin, she saw few options—die at the hands of the Sha'tar, or die at the hands of the shivarra, Illidari, and Sunfury. Did she deserve anything further for being such a fool? She thought not.

But, if she was going to die, she wished to make sure her Shivan mistress either went with her, or would spend a long time recovering.

As the battle on the terraces grew, the Sha'tar forces went up and up. The Shivan commanded a group of warlocks and assassins, with Ithildess as a second. She played along, waiting. With so much going on, the Shivan did not notice Ithildess scattering the Sunfury group with false orders, away from the demoness and herself. At least, not for a while. Once she did, the demoness' rage was profound—she had to smite this faithless here and now. Ithildess unleashed her full torrent of magic at the multi-armed demon, not holding an ounce back. If she was going to go out, might as well go with a flash.

What neither noticed was the rising tide of Sha'tar. Ithildess did not know how long she had been waging this duel against the demoness when she saw the pale armor, and Scryer tabards. Perhaps she would be smote by them after she ended the demoness. For a moment, the group was stunned at the sight, what with Ithildess still wearing the Sunfury colors. It did not last long, however. They charged the Shivan, adding their firepower to Ithildess' assault. The Shivan managed one last corruptive strike on Ithildess, and she fell as the demoness went to her knees, then her back. Burned, beaten, and spent, the last she saw before she blacked out was the group of approaching hooves and elvish feet.

Ithildess woke up sometime later in a Scryer infirmary. She was informed of the battle's outcome, how Karabor had been taken. How the Shivan fell. How she would be given a second chance for her actions, though questioning would come first—redemption is nothing without atonement. Ithildess would spend the next long while in Shattrath, recovering, though her demonic corruption remained. A'dal's brightness stung her eyes and made her skin hot and itchy. Even so, she was entranced by the being, and perhaps the Shivan left her own seed of religious fervor in her. Ithildess questioned while she served under the Scryers in Shattrath.

Redemption is nothing without atonement, she remembered being told. But how could she atone? Giving up her fellish fire would be the first start, certainly. Then what? The next part of her path was revealed when the Shattered Sun assaulted Quel'danas. She participated, aiding a mender in taking care of the injured, advising on how to deal with the demons appearing all over the island.

The answer came when M'uru—the naaru the sin'dorei stole and leeched from—sacrificed its heart to restore their Sunwell. If such a thing could be cleansed and restored, surely she had a chance? And if not, perhaps the pain she would endure would be enough of a sacrifice, and show of gratitude.

Ithildess, from that moment, left behind the arcane and took up the Light. She stayed a while in Quel'danas, learning from the priests there. The tenets were difficult to grasp for her, and so she started out using the divine energies of the Sunwell. Such would suffice for a time, as she learned.

For a while, this satisfied her, the quiet study. But, it would soon be interrupted by a new war—the Lich King was awakening. Like Kil'jaeden in the Sunwell, she saw a new enemy the Horde and Alliance must unite against (even if she still harbored bitterness towards the Alliance). However, they didn't—they waged their battles in Icecrown against each other, right on the Lich King's doorstep, waiting to be picked off. Ithildess prayed as best she knew how, pondering on the sun, the dawn, the naaru's chimes. Then she caught sight of a banner; a silver fist in a sun disk. The Argent Crusade. Here, she might learn more about the Light, how to wield it, and actually get something done against the Scourge.

She joined in the tournament grounds, and has remained under the Crusade banner since even as they moved to the Plaguelands. Though the Lich King was dead, the Scourge was still a force to be reckoned with, and she still had much to learn about the Light. As well, with the ensuing Cataclysm, the Twilight's Hammer seemed to be taking his place as the unifying threat. And though the Crusade did not actively seek the Hammer, she still felt factional war in this world's state would lead to doom.

Ithildess settled in Hearthglen a while after it was re-established under Tirion, aiding and learning as she could, and slowly learning to overcome the hubris of the arcane user she was.