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Player: Krilari

Character Full Name: Krilari Dawnsend

Character In-Game Name: Krilari

Nickname(s): 'Kril'

Association(s): Bronze Dragonflight, The Argent Crusade, The Brotherhood of the Light, Silvermoon City

Race: Blood Elf

Class: Paladin

Age: 1,028

Sex: Male

Hair: Platinum Blonde

Eyes: Green

Weight: 253 Lbs

Height: 6'4”

Skills and Abilities:

Forgemaster - With over a thousand years spent in practice, Krilari has an undeniably skilled hand when it comes to working with an anvil and hammer.

Bronzesworn - Through his own feats, Krilari has garnered the attention of the Bronze Dragon Minormi and thusly has come to swear fealty to her. His charge as a Dragonsworn has come to be very important- to preserve the tales of elven heroes long past. While this responsibility is a heavy one to bear, it is not without its own rewards.

Gift: Personal Hourglass - A small hourglass trimmed with bronze and blessed by the guardians of time, the personal hourglass allows the user to peer into their own history with vivid detail or the history of any the user is in physical contact with.

Gift: Branch of Nordrassil - An untreated shard of wood from the World Tree, Nordrassil, prior to its near-destruction at the hands of the legion.

Gift: Spellsword’s blade - Over two-thousands years ago, a fierce war raged across the northern kingdom of Quel’danas, pitching the High Elves against the Amani trolls in a vie for survival. This blade was once drawn by a skilled magus who had fallen in battle and has hence been collected.


The years have been as kind as they possibly could have to the well-aged man, only lightly wearing down the paladin’s muscled self. With an active life there is little to wonder how his form remains as it does, being built not with athleticism in mind, but instead built strong with withstand blow after blow. And so it seems he has, as his form is often scarred from wounds taken in service to the Brotherhood of the Light and the Argents.

Krilari has managed a trio of normal outfits to utilize in coating his scarred self. The first is his trusted set of armor, forged by his own hands and fine steel. To match the symbol of the Order of the Silver Hand, the armor has been dyed into a light blue hue. Second is a set of red, gold, and black cloth that clung well to his skin. Often this set is worn about Silvermoon or whatever settlements he would travel to, as with this he goes about his bardic ‘duties’. The final set is yet another suit of armor, though this one far more important than the two prior. This set is forged in bronze color but steel reinforcement and bears the symbol of his charge- the Bronze Dragonflight. Important as it is, this set is the rarest of the three and is worn only for special occasions.

As attention draws towards his visage, it is easy to notice the number of scars fading until reaching his face, which has remained unmarked except by age. The platinum blonde spikes of hair are kept well low enough for a helm to safely fit over without interruption.


With the Bronze Dragonflight influencing his life so early on, it has come to forge Krilari in a number of ways. As a result of the responsibilities stacked upon him so swiftly he was forced to mentally mature at an accelerated rate... with questionable effects. Despite such, he does well at putting a false veil of emotions on as a show, whether he needs to be merry for a song or sorrowful for a funeral. Behind the veil, it’s an unfortunate reality that the thousand year-old man has been desensitized to the death and bloodshed that frequents the world.

With the introduction of the timelines and the magical forces of time to Krilari, it has slowly yet surely worked away at his mental holdings. While far away from a full-out case of insanity, his mind has suffered a minor unwinding and thusly is more prone to effects that assault the mind.

When concern over the opposing factions arrises, Krilari is rarely one to take sides. With affiliations not only within the Argent Crusade and the Brotherhood of the Light, both of which having a heavy emphasis upon neutrality, he is also a Sworn to the Bronze Dragonflight, which further presses him to avoid taking sides in any case. Instead of following the unintelligent racisms that each race puts upon one another, he instead forges an opinion of each person based off of individual experiences.


As the youngest son of three, Krilari was born of Sara and Remithan Dawnsend. The trio of brothers were not born all to farm from one another, the eldest being just a handful of years apart from Krilari, the youngest. As for their parents, Sara Dawnsend was a woman of undeniable power in terms of arcane while their father, Remithan, lacked any sort of magical prowess, but was a talented Blacksmith. Following in family tradition, the young Dawnsend would come to take the most after his father, as did his two elder brothers.

By the time has come for Krilari to go and live a life of his own he had already mimicked his father’s talent for the forge. With a pocket full of silvers and slivers of gold from sold goods, he soon found an old forge within Silvermoon’s more industrial quarters and within a few hours time, it came to be his own. While the forge was a good find in itself, there were little funds left over to actually begin his work. Thusly he frequented the mountainous borders of the vibrant Eversong Woods, scouring the rocky terrain for usable ore that would be melted down and forged into sold goods. Day in and day out this process repeated where if he wasn’t home, forging a fresh set of goods, then he would be out along the ridges in search for salvageable veins.

Through this routine the young smith would find the entirety of the rest of his life thrown into temporal flux. While out in the midst of Eversong on one fateful morning the smith thought it best to take his time, ease through the darker vales and grottos of the woods and to simply enjoy himself, yet he was unaware of what beasts lurk in the dark. A beast with four feet and two hands, similar to a centaur yet different in so many ways. From head to toe it was covered in pitch-black scales that seemed to have been worn and cracked, a pale blue luminescence radiating from below. The entirety of the beast seemed to be serpentine, down to the very facial features of its corrupted visage.

With undeniable ferocity the beast would bound from the darkness, knocking the young smith aside and head-first into an ancient tree. On the verge of unconsciousness, Krilari shifted about just in time to witness the creature’s claws rake across his torso, carving a series of deep gashes that overloaded his senses and forced him to black-out.

Hours later he would come to stir from his dreamless sleep poised against a tree, the leaves and lights shifting above providing a surreal assault upon the senses. Wearily he curled up from the ground, yet the sudden shocks of pain quickly sent him gasping and falling against the tree. When looking upon, he found that, surprisingly enough, the wounds had been treated and bandaged. Before he had the opportunity to look for the source of this kindness, it presented itself before him. A woman clad in thick, musty robes stood before him. From beneath her thick cowl two bright-blue eyes could be seen staring at his every feature. Introducing herself with nothing more than the title of ‘Watcher’ the woman explained that the beast that assaulted him was chased off and should pose no threat. She would come to help him stand, yet without a word more she disappeared into the depths of the woods.

The next few weeks were spent recovering from the massive gashes. In that time no ore was found because of the forced bed rest, and whatever goods that were made had quickly sold. I two weeks time that the mysterious ‘Watcher’ paid a visit, where she would explain in detail what happened. The works of dragons were told to him, the mystery of the infinite dragonflight and even the reason as to why he was targeted. Ultimately she came to ask a favor in return for saving his life and the smith, eternally grateful, was eager to repay. The payment would be twofold, the first being rather simple; A set of armor crafted of bronze and reinforced by steel. The second being a tad more complicated; The ancient blade of a spellsword who had fallen in the Troll Wars some nineteen hundred years prior.

While at first dumbstruck by the severity of the second part of her request, the mysterious Watcher explained just where and how it can be recovered, and she simply wished that he recover it in her place. With the details noted down, he would come to agree with both terms of her conditions.

With wounds mended by time and patience, the smith soon set out to the southern reaches of the High Kingdom. In these parts the Trolls still reigned and a man, alone and inexperienced in combat, was undoubtedly a target easy for the pickings. It would be a wonder for years to come if it was dumb luck or fate that protected him, but whichever it was it protected him well. Along one of the mountains that separated Quel’thalas from the human kingdoms would be a slit of an opening nestled at the end of a secluded road. With the sun settling low along the coast the youthful smith pressed along against his better judgement, venturing into the cavernous depths of the crypts.

Along the winding paths and confusing corridors were torches forged of skull and bone and oddly enough, still-lit. For what seemed to be hours Krilari stirred over bones and remains, all of which were long-deceased and rotted away. It was without a doubt that some form of battle took place, as many of the corpses about were impaled with blades, arrows, and other various forms of weaponry. At the heart of the night, Krilari crossed along an intersection of paths, and there a new line of torches magically lit, all leading him along to a room poised at the end of the hall. Once more he worked against better judgement, following the torches into the final room. Once inside he could see a robe-clad form standing before a bonfire. Behind her was a blade set upon a pedestal, no doubt of elven make. A disembodied hand tightly clutched the weapon, it’s deathly grip tightly about the rusted steel. At his entrance the form turned, her voice calling out calmly. “Right on time.”

With confusion abound he stepped further into the room, and there everything became clear. The Watcher revealed not only her true name, but her true existence. Minormi of the Bronze dragonflight, as she referred to herself as, explained in whole who she was and why she called Krilari there- He was to be offered the position of Dragonsworn, the chance of a thousand lifetimes. Without much thought, he took the offer.

From there on he returned home with pride in his step. A new life was breathed into his daily routine, as he now went about with a renewed purpose. His charge was described as a necessity, to keep alive the tales of heroes gone and passed, lost in the sands of time. Thusly Krilari was to go about, spreading their stories in whatever way he may choose to. For a time he tried writing, and another he tried teaching, but he would ultimately come to find the most effective method in going about in a bardic nature. Commonly he traveled from inn to inn and town to town, strumming songs with his guitar and spreading stories to the lively tavern-goers. Beyond the simple task of telling tales, he was also pulled aside every so often for another task or test to assure his loyalties, whether the task was to go out and find another relic from years prior, or to simply gather information over a certain person or place. For centuries this continued on, giving the sworn no lack of work to do.

Such a life would continue until late into the Second War. As the Orcish Horde moved in along with the disgruntled Forest Trolls, towns began to burn and the military was sent to hold off until reinforcements arrived. At this, Krilari both gained and lost. His work as a sworn was disrupted, the man disallowed from traveling far from the gilded walls of Silvermoon. Thus he kept close to his forge and sought to take advantage of the budding warfare. With an arms build-up high in the mind of anyone wishing to protect their homeland, Krilari took advantage of the times to sell every blade and piece of armor he had to spare, the influx of money only urging on the craft of more wares. By the war’s end he had accumulated not only a wealth of coins, but a wealth of stories. Word of mouth from the front lines proved to give the sworn new tales of great heroes to spread by song or story. It was a shame to take such pride in war, but by these times he had become desensitized to the results of war, being so common to seeing it in his works with the bronze.

During these times, Krilari took a particular interest in a rising order- the Order of the Silver Hand. These men claimed to follow the Light and its tenants, even into war. The initial interest, if for nothing else, was to see if there was any good stories these warriors had to spare. Krilari was a far cry from a priest or holy man, however he was familiar with the Light and its Church that had taken root some hundreds of years ago in Silvermoon proper. Rather suddenly his attendance to sermons of the Light increased, yet to his own surprise he would take more to the sermons than the knights that listened to him. Years of solitude were suddenly broken as he pressed to inquire not only about the Order, but how to join it.

The months that followed were riddled with fervent and borderline zealous teachings coupled with intensive physical and mental trainings, yet through it all Krilari persisted with ease. If anything his servitude to the Bronze flight over-prepared him for the trials ahead. On the cusp of the Third War, Krilari was recognized as a Squire within the order, just in time to go off to fight.

The Third war was a hell upon the world of Azeroth, washing over towns and cities like the plague that heralded it. The Silver Hand did not wait for the War to come to them, instead the entire regiment, Krilari included, set off to war with no knowledge- or care- if they were to come back. From Quel’Thalas they rode into lands that were quickly becoming known as the ‘Plaguelands’ as the disease swept through. As if on cue they arrived at the gates of Stratholme just in time to be shattered by the demented prince Arthas. Reluctantly Order and the entirety of its forced turned about, trekking into the lands of Lordearon.

Quickly many lost heart, fleeing to their homes and cities. By the end of the Order’s shattering, only a few faithful remained, Krilari included. Through the lands the survivors tread, following after none other than the man known as Alexandros Mograine - The Ashbringer. With a passion in their hearts the knights refused to return to home. Instead they made camp in what came to be known as the Plaguelands and from there they lashed out against the growing Scourge in anyway they could.

Sadly, all good things must come to an end. Highlord Alexandros eventually fell not at the hands of the Scourge, but by the traitorous nature of his own son. After his fall the Order soon began to tear at itself. Disputes rose as the mortality of their actions decreased, and soon enough two factions would come of the survivors of the Silver Hand- the Argent Dawn and the Scarlet Crusade. Where many of zealous nature followed the Crusade, those with more open minds and hearts formed the Argent Dawn. Krilari, for a time being, fell between these two factions, indecisive as to which he followed more, however the undeniable racism pushed him away from the Scarlet Crusade, and quickly enough he went and aligned himself with the Argent Dawn.

Following soon after the Dawn’s formation, Krilari would come to be recognized as a full-fledged paladin under the Holy Light, and once more pride swelled within the man, a pride not felt since his dedication to the Bronze Dragonflight. Unlike those simpler times, however, there was not time to celebrate. The Argent Dawn and Scarlet Crusade could not fight the Scourge as separated forces and they quickly came to realize this. That’s where the Brotherhood of the Light stepped in. Formed of Argent Dawn members, the Brotherhood of the Light sought to deal out the Light’s justice without being held back by mortal emotion or morals, and it is in the brotherhood that Krilari fit right in. Ultimately the Brotherhood was used to keep ties between the Argent Dawn and the Scarlet Crusade safe as they sought the fall of Naxxramas and the twisted Grand Lich Kel’thuzzad.

Since the Dread Citadel’s relocation to Northrend and the death of the Grand Lich, the Brotherhood has not been without purpose. Instead they, along with the dubbed Argent Crusade, moved into Northrend and began the battle against the traitorous prince Arthas. Now the prince has fallen, and thusly Krilari has returned home to continue his duty as he always has, to tell stories of the world’s greatest heroes