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Player: Krilari

Character Full Name: Malorak Leafwind

Character In-Game Name: Malorak

Nickname(s): ‘Mal’, Dreamreader

Association(s): The Cenarion Circle, The Alliance

Race: Worgen

Class: Druid

Age: 12,349

Sex: Male

Hair: Brown

Eyes: Amber

Weight: 324 Lbs

Height: 7’ 8”

Skills and Abilities

Dreamtouched - Having rested within the Emerald Dream for the majority of his immortal life, Malorak finds himself with a strengthened tie to his feral forms. Because of this connection he is able to shift between forms rather easily, though at the cost that he may be more susceptible to the urges of the wild.


Twisted and turned by druidic magics Malorak, despite his origins, bears many characteristics of the infamous worgen. From head to toe his form is coated in a layer of dense fur, the colors ranging from a light brown to a faded grey. Through the worgen form a few hints of his origins still shine through. Instead of the normal human colorization to his eyes Malorak instead bears two shining pools of amber color. Opposing to the usual hunched stature he keeps himself with a straight spine, making his already impressive physique all the more elevated.

In terms of raiment the druidic worgen keeps himself in the modest garb of a kilt. The leathers are accented with various trinkets and charms displaying a following to the Bear and Cat forms while a layer of fathers displays a following to the Stormcrow. The only other possession that Malorak takes to is a sizable staff crafted from ironbark. It’s head, while intricate, is seamlessly connected to the rest of it’s shaft and bears a amber gem along it’s head.


The great many years have not been kind to Malorak and his kin. A subtle bitterness bleeds into every thought and action of his whether it be in the waking hours or the restful dreams. On any usual day the man remains fairly distant from those he makes contact with, the only true emotion that ever rear it’s head being aggravation. Such brings forth an air of superiority around the man and he most certainly makes no attempts to dispel it either.

Despite how he may appear aloof to those looking on there is still a great fire burning within that urges him forward. The study of the Pack form, to him, is still incomplete despite the great many years since it’s creation. There’s work to be done in taming it’s savage nature and in doing so Malorak hopes to free himself from the furry prison that has come to be the pack form.

Even with a great many years beneath his belt Malorak is a rather inexperienced man when it comes to the current world. The majority of races are simply images of fantasy to him and the world is only even more so. Beneath the layers of bitter depression, arrogance, annoyance and all such anger lies a gem of childish wonder.


Born eons ago in a society far more strict Malorak was conceived of a rather traditional pairing. His mother, Aeira, was a rather modest sentinel, achieving no great praises in her life other than what is to be expected from the elite soldiers. All the while his father, Fenalon, was regarded as a lesser man when compared to his wife, mostly dabbling in the simplistic ways of skinning, tanning, and crafting various hides into tools and armor. The most of Malorak’s childhood was spent in the groves and grottos of Azeroth’s great forests, the youthful boy never deviating too far from his family’s community.

As adulthood approached the young boy took to his father’s trade, crafting the simplest sheaths and mugs from the hardened skin of bears, stags, and the many other creatures of the forest. Instead of utility, however, the boy too more to the intricate little details and decorations, commonly accenting his father’s work with patterns to make them a bit more appealing to the eye. With one such decorated piece- leather fashioned in the appearance of a Alor’el Leaf- he proposed to what one might call his childhood sweetheart, a initiate to Elune’s priesthood by the name of Mavira.

For years the two would live together in a humble peace in the very same community that they grew within. While Mavira tended to the ever-changing politics of the priesthood Malorak kept to their home, tending to the simple needs such as food, cleanliness, and -when it came time- their children. For two thousands years everything as at peace, but it all came crumbling down as the War of the Ancients unfolded. Before his very eyes Malorak watched as the world was torn asunder under the will of the Highborne and their corruptive magics. He was only able to sit and watch, never to touch a blade, never to take up arms, and such infuriated him to no end.

By the war’s end druidism had grown to be a popular teaching as it promised a role for the men to fill. Idle hands would have work and thusly, with gusto, Malorak along with many others began to learn from those who apprenticed under Shan’do Cenarius. Backed by his supportive mate and growing children he advanced through the teachings, delving into the magics of the world with a curiosity unseen. In his ways he, and many others unearthed a form never quite seen before. The Pack form, as it was to be called, developed out of reverence for the ancient Goldrinn. Shifting into the form caused for an increase in physical capabilities while also bearing a great many wolf-like features. However the power came with a heavy disability- it could not be controlled by any druid, novice or master alike.

While the study of the Pack form was underway, Malorak took to the other practices of a druid. By this point the Bear, Cat, Aqua,Travel and Moonkin forms were all safely fit beneath his belt, leaving nothing left to master other than the druidic Stormcrow. While it took quite a few years the graceful form would come to be his most favored amongst all. What began as a joke at first came to gather all the more meaning to the man as his brother in arms commented about him being a ‘Leaf on the Wind’. Used time and time again as a point of motivation eventually he would come to claim the name that would pass from generation to generation- Leafwind.

By the War of the Satyr research in the Pack Form had increased dramatically, many druids seeing it as a massive upper hand if they could afford to contain it. In desperation they created the Scythe of Elune, crafted of the staff of Elune and Goldrinn’s Fang, though increase of bringing peace to feral minds it brought much worse. Madness spread like a plague, fueled by an insatiable bloodlust. In the midst of it all Malorak was trapped with the rest of his ‘Pack’, soon banished by the Archdruid Malfurion Stormrage to sleep within the Emerald Dream for as long as they lived.

For ten thousand years he rested beneath the great tree Tal’doren along with countless others. There was a pity to be felt for some as they were not all druids, no, some were simply innocent men and women, sentinels and craftsmen, yet in the rampage there was no friend or foe to be had. However their punishment would not be eternal, no. After a great many eons the savage worgen would awake to wreak havoc once more, though this time with an opponent like no other.

The humans of Gilneas, in all of their unorthodox ingenuity, had managed to develop a cure to the worgen insanity. An alchemical miracle compared to their failure with magic and artifacts. With his returned sanity Malorak is left with a great many questions regarding the world and how it had developed some thousands of years past his time. Following the advice given to him when awakened he’s taken to the darker veils of what is called ‘Duskwood’, growing familiar with the Worgen there as they study the Twilight Grove and the portal located within.