Afaratan

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Information

Player: Aphetoros

Character Full Name: Afaratan Nethershriek

Character In-Game Name: Afaratan

Nickname(s):

Association(s): The Horde, The Magisters (ex)

Race: Blood Elf

Class: Blood Mage (Warlock)

Age: 1041

Sex: Male

Hair: Dark red.

Eyes: Fel green.

Weight: A bit under average.

Height: Average (1.02)

Appearance

Usual Garments/Armor: His more official garments, which double as combative armor, are inspired by the image of a Phoenix, and are crimson and gold. His other garments, for more casual affairs, are often simple robes or pants and a shirt.

Other: Though he is a Blood Mage, any political power he once had is lost.

Personality

He angers easily, but is often able to mask his anger and put it aside until more favorable situations. His magic is an outlet for his emotions, from joy to anger. Due to his hot-bloodedness, he tends to act rashly and impulsively, which often gets him into trouble. This is a newer development in his life; he was previously able to suppress his emotions but he no longer feels the need to do this.

Alignment: Neutral Evil

History

Afaratan comes from the wealthy Dawntreader family, a clan to which he feels he should have strong ties, but does not. A hired man named Viridiel, as Afaratan’s parents constantly busied themselves with other things, raised him. The caretaker was, at first, another father to Afaratan, but soon assumed the role of an older brother. His mother was a sorceress and a socialite, and his father played some magisterial role and was constantly out of town. His mother was not entirely faithful, and after several years, Afaratan had a brother, half-elven. The child came prematurely, and did not survive long after birth, but the image he had of his mother was shattered. His father was never told of the incident.

As many of his high elven peers, he showed a natural talent for magic in the manipulation of mana within his pet mana wyrm. It’s name was Kaelie, in homage to Kael’thas, a man his family admired. Afaratan enjoyed playing with the wyrm, though his ‘play’ was not safe. He would drain the creature of almost all of his mana, and then pump it back in, watching the creature’s light flicker. He did not realize the torment this caused the creature until once he went too far, and accidentally caused the creature to shrivel up and die. He was distraught, and since he was extremely fond of Viridiel he went to the man, panicked. Viridiel cursed, smacking Afaratan as punishment. He explained that it was not safe to do, and that if he continued doing such things he was bound to become an addicted bum.

Despite this, Viridiel did not want Afaratan’s parents to know about the incident, and he took the blame. He was fired, and his parents feared hiring another babysitter. What if it had turned out to be another mana addict? What sort of influence could that have on their child? They soon realized that Afaratan was of age for a fancy boarding school far from the city in what is now called the Ghostlands.

At first, Afaratan hated the change. He beat up a few other students that tried to mess with, and in a way haze, him, and he even punched a particularly strict teacher who insulted his intelligence. He was forced to take a meditation class, and although he couldn’t learn to be rid of his anger, the meditation helped him suppress it. He spent a large portion of his life there. He spent a fifty studying a myriad of subjects from sciences to histories. He had taken a magic theory class upon first arriving, but he didn’t like the teacher and at the time he was not interested.

But after studying for those many years, he still had not found his calling. He took a year of leave and traveled to the human kingdoms, and was able to witness novice human mages learning from high elven wizards. He was inspired, and decided that he would travel immediately back to the school and begin studies in the mystical arts. On his way back, he stopped at a small outpost for a week of rest somewhere on the edge of Quel’thalas. While there, he befriended a ranger named Saald Nightbringer, who showed him (despite qualms due to past events) the fun that could be had by draining excess mana from crystals. He handed Afaratan a few crystals, and when he drained them he was filled with a euphoric sensation. The two had a brief romance and, when it was time for Afaratan to leave, he handed the other man a small pin bearing the symbol of his family, telling him that if he ever wanted to stop by the school they would let him in with that mark.

Afaratan returned to the school and began to study magic, showing a strong dedication and progressing quickly. He particularly enjoyed fire magic, and found that it was a great outlet for his anger. He would spend time meditatively crafting arcane golems, something he had learned in an arcane engineering course, to let his anger boil into one place and then he would unleash violent flames on the constructs. Rinse, repeat. It was cathartic.

He continued to study at that school for the next 150 years and, nearing the age of 200, he felt he had learned all the school could teach him and so he went to seek new teachers. He packed his things, and headed for Silvermoon city.

On his way there, he ran into a caravan and stopped there for the night. It turned out that Saald was a part of the caravan, and Afaratan was once again convinced to ‘overdo it’ on the mana. He and Saald spoke for a long time, and he learned that Saald hated wizards and sorcerers, thinking them hoarders of mana and evil. He had even been kicked out of the Farstriders for taking this opinion so far as to assault a magister in public. This worried Afaratan, and he changed the subject back to the mana and did even more. He blacked out. Upon waking up, he heard fighting. In the night, trolls had assaulted the caravan. They were outnumbered, and when Afaratan finally got to his feet, most of the others had been killed. He exited his tent, and he hurled torrents of fire at the trolls and essentially engulfed the caravan in a firestorm. When the flames subsided, the trolls were all dead, and his fellow elves had died in the fire. He heard swearing and coughing, and he saw the mostly seared body of Saald writhing in pain.

He ran to the body, kneeling over it. The damage was bad, but Afaratan would have been able to get him somewhere safe and keep him alive until he could be healed. “Curse you… you liar… you didn’t tell me… I hate you, I fucking hate you!” Saald spat in Afaratan’s face, and then continued in a rant about wizards and evil, and how horrible and undeserving of love Afaratan was. Afaratan’s guilt for killing the remaining elves and hurting Saald melted in the face of a sudden anger that filled his every limb. He lifted his hands and cast lightning into Saald’s heart, killing him instantly. But he didn’t stop, he just hurled bolt after bolt at the ranger. When Afaratan was done, there wasn’t anything left to throw at.

He fled the scene, completely numb until he got to Silvermoon. He paid for an inn using his parent’s money, sat down on the bed, and cried. He didn’t sleep that night. The next day, he went out into Murder Row and found some ‘not-so-nice’ people to party with. He found himself quickly addicted to mana or at least more than his people already were. He was able to manage the addiction, being a mage. When he studied, he channeled the energy and found that it kept off the addiction for a time, and so he was able to continue his studies. He thought he had kept the addiction a secret, but his new teacher was no fool. His teacher confronted him after a late night, in the dark of Murder Row. They had a very brief duel—after all, what match is an intoxicated student to a master sorceress? She brought him to her home, and kept him there for a long month so that she could be sure he would not return to the street. Afterwards, she made him join the Magisters so that she, a member herself, could keep an eye on him under the pretense that it was the only place that could further his training.

His training was furthered, and he spent the next seven-hundred years ascending the ranks and training. He participated in wars against the trolls, and because of honors in combat he was sent to another section of the military to learn from a Magister, a position which he would soon attain.

His training was interrupted by the Second War, when the High Elves joined the Alliance and fought with the humans against the orcs. He was sent to the battlefront, where he and many other magi remained at a great distance and, in large ritual spells, rained fire and ice upon the battlefield. It was during his time at this particular camp, that he and many of his peers, searched for more powerful magic with which to decimate their enemies. They began to use less ice magic, and they moved into closer range in order to test their magic. Afaratan remembers clearly the first time he used the spell often referred to as, ‘Living Bomb.’ It killed many orcs at once, and confused those around them. Their allies had become weapons. It was delightful to watch. Some humans raised concern that the magic was too dangerous, and that it seemed to stem from something evil, but it truly did not. It was still arcane, for now.

The war ended, and he returned home to find his father had perished—his mother had left them many years before. The estate was passed to him. He remained active with the Magisters for the next eleven years, holding the namesake title himself. His old mentor had passed, and aside from the acquaintances he had within the ranks, he knew few people beyond teacher-student or colleague-like relationships. He was inducted into another order within the Magisters for research and development of more potent magic, and it was there he was taught to summon a Phoenix. It was a powerful spell, and it took many years for him to learn it. It was a challenge, not simply physically but mentally. He studied the spell’s workings inside and out, and he questioned if he even had the power within himself to summon a creature of that power. He took to meditating daily and trying to strengthen his body and mind with various exercises as he worked on the technique. He continued to work on this for several years. Things were normal. For a time, that is. Everything changed when the Scourge attacked.

There was nothing they could do. Afaratan was present when they declared that the forests needed to be burned, and he could not bring himself to partake. He retired to the back lines, and waited. A large group of undead broke through the lines, and he was nearby when it happened. He joined a nearby group of rangers, the only mage in the group. They were overwhelmed, and he had little choice. “Surround me!” Afaratan barked the command without thinking, kneeling down and pulling out a tome. He didn’t have time to risk saying the spell wrong. He waved his hand and the book began to flip open to the page as he pulled out a small orb to augment his magic. He began to chant, staff in one hand and orb in the other, he reached deep within him and outwards into the world for energy as he began to call the creature. He finished the chanting, and felt his hair and skin prickling with energy. He swung the staff, and the sky itself seemed to rip open above the group, showing a glimpse into some fiery plane. A brilliant object shot from the rift and towards the enemies, landing with an explosion of flame that wounded both friend and foe. Afaratan remembered the caravan. But he could regret nothing, especially not now. The phoenix tore through the enemies, biting and breathing flame on them. Most of his party was dead, either to the phoenix or to the undead, and Afaratan began to back away. He could see the undead for miles ahead, and deep within them an armored behemoth bearing a large, jagged sword with glimmering blue light emanating from it; he was done. Afaratan cast some enchantments to bolster the phoenix’s energy before he fled, letting the creature be overrun as it distracted the horde.

After he was a good distance away, he slowed to a brisk walk, and eventually stopped, sitting on a log just off the road. He was exhausted. The spell had taken so much energy from him, and in the heat of the moment with the adrenaline of battle, he hadn’t noticed it. He forced himself to find the nearest building, and taking refuge inside, he collapsed.

He woke suddenly as unbearable pain suddenly filled his body and mind. The Sunwell had been defiled, and he felt very quickly the full affect of his addiction to magic. He forced himself to stand, dragging his tired body outside. He stumbled upon a mana wyrm and clutched the friendly beast to him. He hungrily drained its energy, and he was momentarily relieved of pain. He used this energy to make his way to Silvermoon, only to find that the city had been destroyed.

He soon found himself in a refugee camp, with many others trying to cope with the loss of their arcane energy. He fell into addiction like many of his brothers, and he began to use all and any arcane magic he could find. It was a drug. And then people started turning into the Wretched. The few friends he had made had all gone insane, their bodies twisted into hollow shells that only cared about absorbing arcane energy. Refusing to become one of these, he made his way to an arcane sanctum and locked himself inside for several days. Upon emerging, he searched for the Magisters so that he could help rebuild after the attack.

When word of Kael’thas’ emissaries found him, and he left to find the solution their prince had brought. He readily accepted the fel energy, trusting their ruler without a doubt. There was nothing they could do but make use of whatever solution they had. His eyes began to burn with emerald light, and he felt power coursing through him that he would never have imagined. He reconvened with some magi he had previously known, and they began to explore how they could make use of this new magic. Kael’thas named their people the Blood Elves, and after a time he became part of an order known as the Blood Mages. He was given a relic—well, a pair of relics—called a verdant sphere. Two small crystalline orbs used to contain the essence of demons, what he learned was the source of their power.

He was taught to summon demons, how to keep them in check and how to drain the energy from them, torment the evil creatures and eventually kill them, trapping bits of their souls in the verdant spheres. The demons were a means to an end. He, along with the other Magisters, helped rebuild the city of Silvermoon, and Afaratan continued to research demonic magic. He began to forsake the old magic of the Kirin Tor and of the High Elves, preferring demonic fire and shadow. It was easier. It was a new identity, and it gave him strength. Practicing this magic, he crafted a spell he named a nethershriek, and thus it became his last name. The spell essentially combined the concepts of multiple spells, striking fear into nearby foes and exuding an aura of harmful fel power.

The blood elves moved to join the Horde, and though Afaratan was in full-opposition to dealing with Orcs and the Undead, he stayed quiet. Though an abomination, now, Sylvanas was trustworthy, he thought. She was once one of his people, and she would never betray them.

Afaratan was visiting Orgrimmar with a few other magi some time after the alliance was made, and after a brief verbal altercation, he had offended an orc’s honor, and the orc had offended his. The Orc raised a fist to punch Afaratan in the face and, having none of that, Afaratan waved a hand and a fist of fire slammed into the creature’s stomach, sending him flying. Afaratan quickly left, but was followed by several of the orc’s friends. They tried to assault him, and Afaratan quickly bested them with his magic, but not without sustaining several wounds. One of the magi with him had seen the whole thing, and reported the incident. Afaratan was punished severely and put on tight probation and, disgusted with his treatment in the face of the event, resigned from his position.

He grew angry even easier, and he ended up taking an indefinite leave of absence from Quel’thalas after burning off a teenage elf’s eyebrows for trying to pickpocket him. He left, using his time to practice his magic on the undead of the plaguelands, and to seek out and study magic fueled by darker energies. And, being on his own, there would be no one to stop him from falling further and further into fel addiction, even after the Sunwell was restored. He currently seeks a method of obtaining incredible fel power without becoming a slave to the Legion, but who knows how long his will can keep him free.

Skills and Abilities

Eldritch Intrigue: Afaratan dabbles in shadow magic.

Siphon Mana: As the spell of the same name, the Blood Mage drains mana from the target to him or herself while a channel is maintained.

Flamekeeper: An adept user of fire magic, the Blood Mage is able to perform grand feats with flame that would strike awe into the heart of any basic mage, such as the shaping of fire for either practical (walls, shields, vortexes, etc.) or aesthetic (animal shapes, firework displays, etc.) means, and the use of high skill fire spells, such as pyroblast and flamestrike.

Felkeeper: Though perhaps not as skilled as he or she is with his or her use of fire magic, the Blood Mage is adept at the manipulation of fel energy. He or she is able to skillfully manipulate demonic energy in its pure, destructive form (chaos bolts, fel lightning, etc.) and in its more esoteric forms (healthstones, soulstones, fel wards, etc.)

Verdant Spheres: The Blood Mage is known for the use of an artifact called a Verdant Sphere. These are small crystalline orbs that contain mystical emerald fire. When attuned to the mage, they orbit around him and grant him the energy trapped within. When the Blood Mage slays a demon, the Verdant Sphere absorbs a part of its essence and becomes more powerful. These enhance the power of their spells, traditionally with increased range and damage. Afaratan possesses two Verdant Spheres. (These work similarly to the new soul-shard mechanic.)

Nethershriek: He emits a blast of undulating shadow and fel energy in a small area around him. This strikes fear in nearby targets and burns a small area with felfire.

Conjure Demons: The Blood Mage has learned to summon demons, though not necessarily for use as minions. He or she summons demons to slay them for the empowerment of his or her verdant spheres. Afaratan may use an imp or succubus on occasion, but not for anything other than mediocre tasks. He rarely brings a demon into combat if at all, relying more on his potent destruction magic.

Summon Phoenix: The Blood Mage tears a powerful phoenix from the Firelands to wreak havoc upon his or her foes. It comes streaking down from the sky like a comet, slamming into the ground and creating a small crater, stunning those in the impact area. The phoenix is about eighteen feet long and can stretch its wings to almost thirty feet. It exudes an aura of elemental fire that scorches nearby enemies for significant amounts of damage. Unlike the mindless infernal, the phoenix demonstrates some intelligence and prefers to attack from above and behind, using the elements of surprise and flight to its advantage. Its only direct forms of attack are its bite and its flaming body, which it uses to supplement the damage from its immolating aura. It is difficult to keep a phoenix present in Azeroth without placing a significant toll on the caster’s mana, and therefore the Blood Mage must take extreme care if trying to maintain it for longer than normal. Replaces the Summon Infernal spell, detailed below.

“Summons a meteor from the Twisting Nether, causing X Fire damage and stunning all enemy targets in the area for 2 sec. An Infernal rises from the crater, under the command of the caster for 1 min.”