Matharius
Information
Player: Krilari
Character Full Name: Matharius Jonas Winters
Character In-Game Name: Matharius
Nickname(s): Mathias Summers
Association(s): Stormwind, Survivors of Lordearon, The House of Nobles, Gilneas (Loosely)
Race: Worgen
Class: Warlock
Age: 33
Sex: Male
Hair: Faded Red
Eyes: Blue
Weight: 207 Lbs
Height: 6’
Skills and Abilities
Uncorrupted: Through daily practices of meditation and a lifestyle that calls for minimal casting, Matharius follows the path of an Uncorrupted Warlock; one who has a will strong enough to resist the dark temptations of the demonic energies and all it entails.
Of Noble Blood: Born to a noble family of Lordaeron’s capitol, Mathias was brought up with the understandings of noble life and the requirements needed to be filled in order to properly run a House. On his own accord the man has brought his house back to its former glory within the Stormwind House of Nobles.
Appearance
Once a sickly shell, Matharius is now a man whose figure has been wrought by the workings of magic and curses. Through the bite of a worgen the man finds his physical figure fortified against the illness brought on by magic. However the bite has brought a curse in itself. In his Worgen form Matharius is coated in jet-black fur, spurts of grey hair stemming out where his beard once was. Even still he maintains a set of gloves which in themselves cover his hands which had be scarred by magical fire.
Despite the untamed nature of the Worgen, Matharius has kept and continues to maintain a well-tended person. His Person is tamed and trapped by the bindings of a suit of high quality work.
Personality
The years have not worn well upon Mathiarius’ person, Torn from the tragedy of Lordearon’s fall his mind has never quite recovered. Even so the damage done is guarded by a calm and collected visage. Despite it’s long passing, Matharius keeps a subtle passion for not just the fallen Kingdom of Lordearon but for the Alliance as a whole. Towards the world he keeps a very composed and formal person, respectful to most- even if they do not deserve it. Even with his teachings as a demonologist he finds himself holding a special hate for demons. To him they will always be nothing more than tools to further the plots of him and many others. Adding upon a list of growing hates the man now carries an unexplained distaste for the Black Dragonflight and the flames that they can control.
The Worgen transformation has brought forth emotions that were once thought contained. Now the noble finds himself plagued by the fact that his rage and depression can not be so easily bottled away, though there is hope to be found that the same is for positive emotion as well.
History
A weathered man calmly stalked through the darkness of his abode, the only light in fact being his own source- a ball of fire curled between his fingers. Soon enough he would settle along along a wooden table which had already been occupied by a number of books. As the magical fire casted itself into a nearby lantern, the caster himself would pick up a quill and a bottle of ink, soon turning to a blank page.
“So here I am once again, left in the dark with none to be my guiding sight. Ah well, as its become a norm now...
Perhaps, I should start from the beginning. My name is Matharias Jonas Winters, son to Markas Winters and Rose Greenwall-Winters. It would come to be that I was born an only child, most likely an accident more than anything, though neither of my parents were ever so uncouth as to admit it. And even I myself have to admit that they were kind souls, certainly ones to envy. Neither of them worked a day of their lives, no not quite. Instead they lived the lavish life of nobles, and by association so did I. Days were not spent playing stick and ball or wrestling in the mud, no, I had more important ordeals. Such as the proper table etiquette, or how to correctly dress one’s self for court. By the age of ten, I had already become quite the rogue amongst the ladies of the court but... I digress.
Capitol city was a glorious place, yes, but hardly as interesting as everyone raved it to be. In matter of fact I would argue it to be one of the dullest holes of city to exist in the seven kingdoms. Thusly, once I had an ounce of freedom, I spent my days not buried under text but in the fine wilds of Lordearon’s forests. Those trees were something interesting, the beasts something far more captivating than any court could ever hope to be. So appropriately, I would come to meet the diamond of mine eye in these delicate times. I can recall it so sharply, so eagerly, as if it were just last week.
It was the midst of Autumn, as the trees were just turning their color, and I was out on my usual walk to pay a visit to one of the bordering villages where some of my better friends stayed. While on my way, my attention was robbed by the sight of none other than than lovely jane, or at least she would be lovely if not for the fact that she was dragging with her the carcass of her hunting's bounty. As I lended her a hand with the fresh kill we struck conversation- I suppose it would be a bit of foreshadowing that the fact that she was dragging a corpse with her and it didn’t bother me in the least. Even still, months later it would come to courtship with the disapproval of my dearest parents but I was the usual rebellious youth at the time. Years would pass back and forth as they always had. I would end up showing myself out of the house, actually, instead taking residence in an apartment, which was much more preferable than to hear my parents constant howling for me to find a fitting, noble spouse. Nonsense, I say. Unfortunately my dearest Jane did not live with me, but instead acted at a nurse at one of those utterly vile orcish camps. Sadly such would prove to be her undoing. On the eve of my proposal for the ever-binding knot, the orcs revolted. Revolted and took her from me.
It was since that day that I wandered down the forsaken path of the dark arts. Of all the people, it would be my father to mentor me in my weakest hour. A secret he had kept from even his own wife was now mine to bask in, however he did not pass it recklessly. Before anything, I learned control. How to keep these dark bindings in check, lest they break loose. Ever since then... I’ve never been much the man. I hid myself behind the thin veil of a foe name- Mathias Summers. Mmh, not exactly clever, was I? My parents passed away in the following years, falling to the vile scourge as I fled like the child I was to Stormwind. From there my life began anew with no family, but friends. I was a torn, desperate man still who hid himself behind a cooled visage, but on the inside I was nothing more than a sniveling child... I clung to my friends, and their friends, and even their friends. Eventually it all had to end... I do not even remember how it did, honestly. I simply recall limping my way up Hearthglen’s roads to once more cling to a friend... for the last time, at least. With the powers of Lady Greene I was rid of this curse, this spell hanging over me and I began life anew.”
The man would set his quill down, leaving blank pages for his story to be continued. A slight glance was spared to the magical flame before it was snuffed out on whim.
With a slam of a door the familiar figure made his way into the study. Frantically he flipped through the pages, finding the blank slate to continue his tale.
“The world had ended. Or so we all had believed for some time. Fire rained from the sky as cultists worked their ways out of the woodwork. Beasts rained from the heights of cliffs, tearing down any mortal foolish enough to travel their way.
What a time it has been.
I suppose I should pick my tale up at about the time of Winter’s Veil. It was a lonely time, as any, and I was out for the taste of blood and slips of silver. Out in Westfall I ran, looking to plunder the remains of some Defias camps in the Deadmines. Little did I know I would soon be taking up a more personal luggage. To make a long story ever so short (as I have much more to tell!) I ended up finding a woman to court in the heat of it all. Valda is her name and Westfall is her home, though with any luck I may make the courts of Stormwind her new residence.
For her I have done many things, things I never imagined myself capable before. Riches I had amassed over the years, without my own knowing even. When I came to realize exactly how much I sat on, I determined that there was nothing to do but act upon it. Mathias Summers I once was, a child cowering from an invisible foe. A boy that was frantic over his own shadow. No more. I am Matharius Jonas Winters, the remaining proper heir to the Winters Household, and now its leading Patriarch. Taking my riches I sought to make business, and business I made! Soon enough my fingers were settled in every engineering shop from Stormwind to Stranglethorn. Goblin. Gnome. Troll. No matter the case I found business with them and from these engineers I built my empire.
There was, however, one hitch. A memory. Mathias was a memory of what it was to know fear, to be a child in a wide world with no one else about. He had no place as a part of me anymore. With Valda I trekked northward towards Lordearon on a whim of emotion to bury the past and move on into the future. It seems that fate decided to give me a bit of a push. Camping in the ghostland that once was Silverpine I found myself assaulted by a worgen. As I urged Valda to the safety of a cave I myself looked to fight off the beast, but foolish I was and little did I know of the Worgen curse. In the tussle its teeth latched onto my side before I was able to take it’s life with a shock of shadow energy. It was there that the problems began. While the memories are hazy at best, I recall the slightest memory. My first shifting took place at the turn of the month, only days after we set out from Menethil. The weddings, the ventures, everything my love and I had planned turned to dust. A torrent of flame, the shift of some massive black shadow, and in the blink of my cursed eyes she was gone... the love of my life was taken from me in my weakest moment.
For a time I presume I stalked the wilds, my mind only a sliver of a gem lost in a sea of feral madness. In my ways I ended up the territories of Gilneas, just in time for the hunt. One dreadful morning I awoke with my form haggard and exhausted, yet different. Men in coats of black and brown surrounded me, by the time I came to I realize I was tied down to a stockade. Even if I hate their attitude, I do appreciate the Kal’dorei and their mind-mending elixir. From there on out I was considered a Gilnean, not by blood but by the heat of battle. In the sudden nature of it all I was thrown in to battle the people I once considered to be my own kin, the Forsaken of Lordearon. Unfortunate as it all was I came out alive... worn, changed, depressed, but alive.
Never the less, once those events passed I continued to climb my way up the ladder of nobles. While some rivaled my claim to glory other old and ancient allies rose to lift me up on my two feet. While the call to nobility is a pleasure, the lack of my love pains me deeply. As I pen my last words here I also plan to see her out.
Light and Shadow, Gods old and new, Titans high above and Demons down below, give me your strength in these times and so help me I will reap a fierce vengeance to see her safe once more.”
