Nuadon

Information

Player: c0rzilla

Character Full Name: Nuadon Duskshield

Character In-Game Name: Nuadon

Nickname(s): Shield of Elune

Association(s): The Sentinels, Sisterhood of Elune, Darnassus, Alliance

Race: Night Elf

Class: Warrior

Skills and Abilities: Unlike most of her sentinel sisters, Nuadon has developed her relatively stocky form to take hits, rather than avoid them. Someone has to! She is a tank, in the short of it. She is skilled in the use of large shields, defending at the front of the line in battle. A pole-arm or long glaive is gripped in her other hand.

Nuadon had a deal of skill with the lyre. Centuries of practice are a plus.

Age: 1,545

Sex: Female

Hair: White, with a tint of blue. Medium length, its bottom is tied in a short braid, a few pale wisps hanging in her face.

Eyes: Silver

Weight: 260lbs

Height: 6'8"

Appearance

Usual Garments/Armor: She wears the purple-hued uniform of a sentinel proudly in battle and on patrol. It is polished and cleaned daily, its sheen glowing in the moonlight of her woodland home. Her weapon and shield are too cared for thusly.

Her casual attire can range from a blueish tunic and pants in cloth or leather, to natural looking robes should she visit the temple. She may even have fancier clothes hidden in her closet for the rare day she wants to feel pretty.

Other: The Blades style of tattoo cuts through her face.

Personality

Alignment: Lawful Good

If there was ever a kaldorei paladin, Nuadon would be its example. While she has little knowledge of the human's Light, or the practices of a paladin, or any interest at all in living up to that example, she is a devout follower of Elune, and would stand at the temple's door, shield before her defending it to the last from any stampede of orcs. Which she hates. A lot. She is honest, forthright, and chaste. In battle her relatively stocky form is used to her advantage, green-skinned and green-blooded enemies colliding with her shield, and then being sliced in twain by her glaive.

While highly respectful of Cenarius, she is a tad haughty in regards to her druid brothers, and wonders why any of her silver-eyed sisters would want to sleep in a hole for millenia while there is so much work to do for Elune on the surface. She considers Tyrande the generally better leader between her and Fandral Staghelm, though there is a bad taste left in her mouth from rumors of what she did to the Wardens during the Third War.

In times of peace she is a lover of poetry, the lyre, and long walks in the moonlight. Usually to the temple, where she will spend many an hour in meditation or service to the Moonlight-wielding sisters there. While nearly all kaldorei respect the nightsaber, Nuadon has a particular affection for the feline's fluffy kittens. Should there be one abandoned by its mother, she will readily take it in. Perhaps due to some suppressed mothering urge, buried under her sentinel training.

History

Nuadon Duskshield was born in that tranquil time between the departure of the Highborne, and the start of the first War of the Shifting Sands. She was raised in Ashenvale like so many of her kin, growing in body and mind for five hundred years. The daughter of a blacksmith and a Sister of Elune, she was raised to be a devout warrior for the Goddess, mostly filling well the role of traditional Sentinel.

One thing was a problem, however. No matter how she trained, she could not match the usual agility of her sisters. Surely, like any kaldorei, she could outrun, out climb, and out sneak an outsider. But, her form was just too stocky, and too set on developing muscle for her to spend her days in trees with a bow.

She pondered this conundrum. How could she serve the Goddess she so loved, and make her family and home proud? She still wished to be on the front lines of battle, guarding her people. Guarding. That was it! Not all sentinels were hidden in the trees, silently striking from the branches. She would learn to use the gifts the Goddess gave her, and be an unwavering shield before her people.

So she did. Seeking guidance from her mother, father, and her elders she trained in the use of heavier armor, and a shield. Her weapon use ranged from a pole arm, a long glaive, or a moonglaive. She grew quite close with her shield-sisters and mentor. The group was small compared to the rest of the sentinels, but no less respected.

Centuries passed with Nuadon mostly learning on patrols. Then the Silithid swarm erupted in Silithus.

All were needed to push the insects back, and all came. Many perished, the deaths usually gruesome at the claws and mandibles of the Silithid. Her mother and father answered the call, serving as a healer and a smith, the family stationed in Southwind village. Nuadon took this chance to defend to heart, but given no true chance to fight during such tranquil centuries, her emotions had yet to be tempered. The gray desert would be a true trial.

The months passed, resolve wearing thin. Nuadon fought fiercely, often striking out in fury with her glaive when she should have held the line. Eventually, her superiors grew tired of her untempered fire and stationed her as a simple guard in Cenarion Hold. There she sulked amongst her druidic brethren. Her mother and father remained safe. For a while.

Then the news reached her of the fall of Southwind. Her beloved family? What of them? Torn like the rest. No shield could defend against this blade that struck her heart. Guilt began to eat away at her. Perhaps if she had followed orders she at least would have died with her parents, defending them to the last like she so wanted.

The war was eventually won with the aid of the Bronze Dragonflight, but the guilt remained.

Now home in Ashenvale, Nuadon's fire had cooled, and she spent many hours of many days in the nearest temple, trying to absolve herself of her guilt. If she could not even save her own family, what right had she to patrol and guard her own homeland? After a time of this wallowing in self-pity, her spirit was brought up by her the return of her mentor. Scarred and beaten from the war, but alive and stern as ever. She was told how it was arrogance to think she could save everyone. Even if she had not garnered the irritation of her superiors, who is to say what could have happened? Nuadon rose, and returned to training, the rhythmic beatings on her shield providing a tempo to clear her mind. She still spent much time at the temple, perhaps trying to make up for the loss of her mother's services there. While she knew no healing magics, she aided the sisters as she could.

More centuries passed, with the kaldorei hiding in their forests, paying no heed to the world outside. The orcs would change that.

Rumors of green-skinned savages, tearing the forest asunder reached Nuadon's village. By now, her spirit was as tempered steel. She would provide much needed support for her sisters in the battles to come against the orcs. Her brothers as well, as they awoke from the Dream upon Cenarius' death. She would follow orders to the letter, green savages colliding with her shield.

She fought alongside the other races at the final battle upon Hyjal, though she kept her distance, watching them silently. She wondered at the similarities between herself and the human and dwarven paladins. The loss of immortality did not strike her as hard as others, for she had always been willing to die for her home. She had always fought alongside the eclipse of death. Perhaps this loss would temper the spirits of others as it had her own, though she readily mourned the tree as the others did.

Hope was lit anew at the word of Teldrassil. A new world tree! Nuadon was skeptical, for it seemed arrogant to snatch back such a sacrifice. And it was deemed so, for the Bronze flight did not provide its blessings upon it. The Kaldorei's immortality remained out of their grasp. She made her new home in Darnassus, frequenting the Warrior Tier and the grand temple.

War seemed so common in these recent years, and again she was called to defend in Northrend. She kept a close guard of her sisters and brothers until the Lich King fell. She did not frequent much of the front line, for her kind tended to the corruption of nature rampant in this frozen land.

Safe (and warm) in her home again, she sticks close, acting the part of steadfast shield.