Daviren

Information

Player: ptdapen

Character Full Name: Daviren Kinlan

Character In-Game Name: Daviren

Nickname(s): N/A

Association(s): N/A

Race: Human

Class: Death Knight

Age: 46 (45 at Death)

Sex: Male

Hair: Gray

Eyes: Blue

Weight: 176 lbs

Height: 6'1"

Other: Daviren suffers from retrograde, post-traumatic amnesia. Nearly all of his memories before servitude under the Lich King have been lost.

Alignment: Lawful Neutral

Appearance

The armor that embraces this death knight is typically adorned with spikes, primarily used to lacerate or puncture his opponents through grappling and the like.

Personality

Due to his amnesia Daviren is rather inquisitive, always searching for more information about the world. However he is rather lax and polite, not having racial hatreds towards anyone. His memory is, after all, filled only with events involving collaboration between all races. Even if someone's actions offend him he keeps a cool head, valuing self-control over rash decisions. In fact he tends to be amused when any insult is sent his way, viewing such words as valueless. So in the end this death knight appreciates the rationality of others, far more willing to listen to what they have to say than if they screamed it wildly.

Even before being indoctrinated by the Lich King Daviren was a heartfelt loyalist to his friends, nation, and whatever else he cared for. Though now cold due to his undead state it is not impossible for him to have compassion towards others. He is not quick to state it but his actions and demeanor will certainly express how his emotions. Usually he will take on a protective role, especially for women, even if his feelings do not involve romance. Once he has made up his mind to help them he outright refuses to back down, believing his position to be the best.

The calm nature of this man is able to be shattered, however, causing him to go fly into a beserk rage. Upon the sight of blood the urge to kill significantly rises in him, obviously scaling with severity of the wound. Despite being dead he enjoys gulping down the blood of his enemies in this state, feeling invigorated just by the action. Still, only in extreme cases will he turn on his allies to satisfy his battle lust. Even while being overcome by anger his conscience battles back. Finally his sins under the Lich King cannot be forgotten, and neither may the ones he still commits. He is a repentant man, plagued by the few memories he has.

History

Ever since he was young Daviren had pride in his kingdom. Consequently, being born in Gilneas, he also became an isolationist. Throughout his entire lifetime, even after leaving his home, he consistently believed that Gilneas was the only competent kingdom able to survive Azeroth's terrors. His family was led by a baker, his wife, and their three children; two sons and one daughter, with Daviren being the middle child. While his younger sister was considered "the baby" he did not mind the lack of attention, rather, he tried his best to take care of her. His brother, Tarnov, was typically more skilled due to his age. But Daviren had one advantage over him; physical strength. While he grew rather well the elder brother turned out to be mildly impotent, ceasing to grow at an early age. Both of them conflicted at times, certainly, but both found their place in the family setting.

Money turned out to be rather difficult to seize, despite the hard work of the father. Daviren tried to be helpful at the family bakery but it grew tiresome. The repetitive tasks bored him to the point where even the love for his relatives could not overcome it. In addition he was simply not good at the job. After reviewing potential work guard duty seemed to be the perfect job for everyday stimulation. Despite the complaints from his mother he decided to enlist for this career. Yet at the age of 18 Daviren was one of the youngest recruits imaginable. While rather strong he was not quite bulky enough to impose order on the population. As a result the young man was assigned meager assignments and errands, ones that avoided combat or guarding high-risk areas. Overall this situation was a disappointment, though the sights he got to see while harboring messages were better than the static bakery scene.

One day turned out to be a bit more interesting. Although horrific and scarring this event would result in the best years of his life. During a standard night patrol a couple of short screams could be heard. Running in to investigate with his partner the guards discovered a small-scale battle. Resolute at heart the duo charged in to break up the affair, their foolishness punished by the criminals deciding to team up against them. Though both guards were heavily beaten the gangs returned to killing each other, one side eventually emerging victorious. The victors fled the scene, leaving everyone for dead. So there Daviren laid, trying to overcome the weakness of his body with willpower. His eyes glanced over, catching sight of the lifeless eyes of his partner. The groans of the others started to simmer down as well. Death surrounded him, ready to grasp his soul as well. With his last ounce of strength he let out a cry of remorse, pain, and fear, with a couple of sobs following afterward.

A fair young woman stood at the edge of the scene, her hand covering his exasperated expression. She could barely gulp down the sight of the blood; the corpses made it worse. Throughout the entire fight she had stayed hidden in her room, trying to block out the sounds and ignore it. What overwhelmed her was Daviren's howl, forcing her to leave the safety of her home. The subtle struggles of the guard made her see that he still lived. Without delay she pushed herself forward, running over and trying her best to help him. She bandaged his wounds, stopped his bleeding, and most important of all, comforted him. When she tried to go for help he seized her, though lightly due to his weakness. It resulted in her staying with him until he fell unconscious, allowing her to get some professional aid. As the next few days of recovery went by she came to visit everyday, again finding herself unable to leave his side. The key difference however was that she wanted to stay.

Needless to say the two became more and more attached until marriage was the only destination. Still young and both from rather poor families money had to be made somehow. Both of them continued their work, though paychecks were not earning enough. However a better opportunity came up for Daviren, at a great cost. The Second War had reached his home kingdom, and there would always be spots for recruits. Again despite the pleas to not leave the husband decided to march off to battle, hoping his guard experience would keep him alive. If not then hopefully his unknowingly impregnated wife would be compensated for his death. During his time in the outside world Daviren met some interesting people. Some were sworn to the magics of their city and some were able to call upon the Light in ways that he could never imagine. Needless to say the young man began to respect outsiders more, though he still preferred his homeland over all else.

Though the war had ended Daviren still had reason to stay in the outside world. There were still some Old Horde encampments that needed to be taken care of. In the end he decided to detach himself from his Gilnean unit, being convinced by a paladin that his duty was not done. When the mop up was completed he immediately departed for his home. Unfortunately what he came upon was the Greymane Wall. Despite his pleas he was not given entrance. The guards rationalized that no true Gilnean would have stayed to help the other kingdoms. For days he camped at the outskirts, hoping that his persistence would give him entrance. Instead all he received was warnings to leave before hostilities began. Not wanting to spill any of his fellow man's blood he left for good, leaving behind all the good in his life.

Now alone in the world Daviren needed to find a new place to live. His attachments to Gilneas would never die, no, but he could bear living his life in another kingdom. Dalaran did not seem to be suitable for him so the most logical choice was Lordaeron. Being relatively unskilled at craftsmanship the wanderer was forced to take up guard duty once more, feeling less inclined to protect these "foreigners" than his beloved Gilneans. During his off-time he tried to return to Gilneas, only to be turned back once more. As the years went by his visits became less and less frequent until they finally vanished. The love he held for his wife, however, would never fade. While admirable this loyalty also restricted him from truly relating well to his new people.

War reached his life once more, but it was a different enemy; the Scourge. Daviren watched his fellow man succumb to the Plague, turning into wretched undead. He did not intend on dying here, nor letting those under his protection fall. Taking those who would go with him he departed for Southshore, hoping to fend off the Scourge until they could sail away. As he passed Gilneas he did not even attempt to bring his party to the wall. Even Dalaran was too close for comfort to the impending threat. And so, though the travels were harsh, Daviren took sail towards Stormwind, hoping that the city would prove capable. And so it did. Life started anew for him, and through the years he felt content staying in the safety of the capital, guarding his new people once more. This lasted until the Lich King's assault upon the city, where the threat of the Scourge became apparent once more. Not wanting the same travesty to repeat itself Daviren enlisted in the Alliance expedition to sail to Northrend.

The voyage across the seas was harsh. A few lamented but most stayed determined, knowing their duty was more important than suffering. Battles in this foreign land were lopsided. As their forces grew weary the undead stayed strong, the losses growing amongst the living. Eventually the combination of battle and climate left him weak, openings being created in his defense. Daviren would finally meet his maker against a mace-wielding brute. The footman kept his guard up, blocking the bashes with his shield until he eventually rammed his opponent away. Believing he had the upper hand he went in for the finishing blow. Due to his weariness, however, his strike came too slowly. The undead was able to swing straight at his head. While he did not lose his life the injury caused enough damage to eliminate his memories. Still, this mattered little at the time; his death followed soon after.

By then his allies had already been routed, the corpses of the fallen left behind in the snow. However they were not forgotten, no, the Scourge had a great use for them. Daviren was among those chosen to be reformed as a Death Knight, one of the strongest tools of the Lich King. And yet he was still a tool, and having no memory made him one of the most reliable. No petty distractions or attachments to impede his work. All he knew was his orders. Eventually he was re-positioned to watch over the construction of Malykriss: The Vile Hold. During his guard duty he started to notice more and more issues. His suspicions grew too large to ignore, causing him to go out alone and scout out for any saboteurs. An Argent Crusade rogue was able to catch him in his lonesome, eventually sneaking up to him and kicking him down into a chasm.

Rolling down and smacking into the ground caused a fair amount of damage to the death knight. His runeblade was still able to sustain him, tapping out its power in order to repair his body. When he finally recovered he realized that he was completely lost. His first impression was to try to climb up the cliff but all of his proceeding attempts failed. After a week he was able to find his way out and track his way back to the necropolis. By the time he arrived the Knights of the Ebon Blade had already seized control. Unwilling to surrender himself Daviren went into refuge, unable to see a clear path back to other Scourge forces. And so he took it upon himself to continue hunting down the invaders, engaging in minor skirmishes against messengers and the like. Eventually his lord would fall along with Icecrown, returning his will back to him.

Now in complete control of himself Daviren pondered on what his purpose was. He had no home to remember, no connections to adhere to. In fact he knew nothing of Kalimdor or the Eastern Kingdoms other than that was where the invaders came from. Eventually he came to the assumption that he must have been born in one of the human kingdoms. And so Daviren has begun to wade through the lands of Northrend, searching for answers and for a way to make it back to his unknown home.