Duvain

Information

Player: Morhana

Character Full Name: Duvain Lae'taonel Seregon

Character In-Game Name: Duvain

Association(s): House Seregon, Silvermoon City

Race: Blood Elf

Class: Warlock

Age: 755

Sex: Male

Hair: He has waist-length, straight, golden blonde hair. He dyes it jet black.

Eyes: Moss Green

Weight: 150 lbs.

Height: 6' 5"

Appearance

Usual Garments/Armor: This tall and slender Sin'dorei usually wears well fitting gold and crimson robes, that would might reveal he is slightly underweight. He refuses to wear anything less than the finest black shoes and gloves while in his robes, accompanied by a black shawl to cover what skin of his neck and chest would otherwise be showing. At all times, he wears a strong cologne. Beneath his black shawl, he wears a black leather choker with a large red gem in the center of it. He wears a headband to hold his hair back when in this outfit, as well as a large fel-forged crimson dagger by the name Raz'Ahran on his belt.

Duvain is rarely found in different garments consisting only of well-fitting Sin'dorei decorated trousers with matching boots and bracers. His black choker would be visible in this outfit, though the gem would be separated, floating above his head in a flaming crown. Duvain has intricate black tattoos covering his upper body, which would likely only be seen in this outfit. In this outfit, it would be more clear that he is more slim than your average Sin'dorei.

Personality

Duvain walks with grace and elegance, an aura of confidence about him at all times. Duvain seems to radiate an air of wisdom at any given time, occasionally taking the opportunity to promote this wisdom to those he sees as 'less-than-wise'. He generally sees anyone not of a Noble house to be lesser beings, as well as anyone not of the Sin'dorei. In general, he dislikes everyone, with few exceptions. Being he is of House Seregon through his aunt marrying into the family, he strives to be more powerful than anyone, showing that he is worthy of the family.

History

Duvain Lae'taonel Seregon was born into the grand noble house Seregon, son of Goldor "The Wolfhowl" and Nionia Lithdel Seregon. His mother was the sister of Calenth Seregon, the wife of the Patriarch of House Seregon. This sliver of a connection to the family made Duvain a cousin of Elrohir Seregon. In his early years, Duvain was brought up primarily by his mother, as his father was not often around to raise the boy. Without any sort of father figure around for the majority of his life, the boy grew to be distrustful of most people, even in childhood. In his eyes, if his father couldn't be trusted to be there to raise him, how could anyone else be trusted for any reason at all?

Duvain started training from his youth to control magic, as he seemed to have a sort of affinity for the art. It was during this training that Duvain met his mentor, one of the few people he felt he could trust. Over the course of his training, a sort of friendship grew between the two. Throughout his training, Duvain even seemed happy. He was quite proud to show off everything he learned from his mentor. Duvain's power grew quickly from his training as me mastered spell after spell over hundreds of years, in which time his mentor became much like a father to him.

On the day of his seven-hundred-thirty-fifth year of birth, Duvain's mentor came to him in the woods of Quel'thalas bearing a gift. He held out a nicely decorated wooden box, handing it to Duvain. "A gift, to celebrate your skill as a master of the arcane." The elder man spoke. Duvain accepted the gift, opening the box to reveal a large red gem laid in a black choker. "I once wore this gem to channel my power. To assist my control of magic." Duvain fastened the choker around his neck, looking up to his mentor with a smile. It was then that his mentor noticed the book Duvain had been reading. A book on dark magic. This day marked Duvain's descent into darkness.

"My Mentor, your training has brought me far, indeed... But not far enough, it would seem. I was approached in my sleep... Or rather, in dream. In this dream, a figure spoke to me. A figure shrouded in blackness. It called out to me. It's words... strangely alluring. It spoke of power... Power to strike down my foes... To destroy those that would harm me, those that would command me, that would speak at me... judge me. This dark figure spoke of Raz'Ahran the Crimson, a dagger forged of twisted steel and lost souls, bathed in dark blood. This dark figure read to me of a black tome, written in the tongue of demons. This dark figure cast these artifacts aside, grasping me by my arms, shaking me awake. As I rose from my bed that night, my Mentor, I saw the black figure... This time, though, the figure held form... A beautiful woman."

A horrified look fell over his mentors face as he spoke. "She stood before me clutching Raz'Ahran the Crimson in one hand, and with the other hand, she gifted me her black tome, but I could not take my eyes off of her, my Mentor. She was beautiful. She told me of the power I would be granted, should I drink of her blood, and I would not be denied this power, my Mentor. I witnessed her glory as she cut her palm with the crimson dagger. She placed the dagger in my hands and took me into her arms, my Mentor. She lifted her beautiful hand to my mouth and let me drink of her blood. It was... Glorious."

As his mentor's look turned to one of anger, Duvain rose to his feet, clutching his crimson dagger. "I will not have your judgemental eyes upon me!" Duvain spoke, his voice enraged "You! All of you people demand righteousness of me! I am Duvain Lae'taonel Seregon, and I will not be commanded by your pathetic forms!" The gem of his choker began to glow, freeing itself of the black band and taking a place over his forehead. "I am greater than you!" the gem burst into flame, creating a sort of flaming crown above his head. In his rage, Duvain stabbed his terrified mentor, but that was not enough. He ensured that his mentor would suffer in his last moments. Suffer for placing his judgement on Duvain. "Suffer! Burn!" Duvain placed his hand on his mentor's throat, setting the man ablaze. He cackled maniacally as his fallen mentor turned to ash. Duvain stood before the remains of his mentor. He grinned with an evil and twisted look on his face, speaking to the pile of ash.

"It was this day three-hundred-fourty-two years ago, dear Mentor, that I began theorizing the use of magic to further my own needs. Why, I wondered, must I let others command me? Why, I asked myself, should others have the right to judge me? Why? They do not deserve my power. It is mine, what right do they have to it? This is why, dear Mentor, I have sought out stronger magic. Fire. It is powerful, it consumes all, and bows to none. It reigns fearlessly, but it not the power I seek. Not on it's own, no. With the opening of the Dark Portal in the south, it's come to my knowledge that there is an even greater power that exists. A power with which I shall be able to increase my own strength and control of magic exponentially."

In the following years, Duvain continued down a path of dark magic and fel energy. It wasn't long before the Scourge made their attack on Quel'thalas. Duvain was one of the few survivors of the attack, though his mother had not been so lucky. In the heat of the attack, Duvain abandonned his mother to make his own escape from the city, fleeing everything he had known.

In his time wandering, he eventually met his father, for the first time in many years. The two lived together for several years. They remained mutually agreed that they were hardly family at this point. This freedom between the two allowed Duvain to continue his study of fel magic without judgement from his father. This odd relationship continued until his father died of old age.

Duvain returned to Silvermoon City following it's rebuilding. It was by this time that he'd started dying his hair jet black, but this change of appearance would not hide his identity from those who would seek him out. It was not long before he was approached by Elrohir Seregon. The imposing figure of the tall Sin'dorei before him almost intimidating, but what had really shaken Duvain was the identity of the man.

"Lord Elrohir Seregon. It is more than a pleasure meeting you like this. So much more, in fact." It would appear Duvain's actions in the forest did not go unseen. Duvain held the utmost respect for Elrohir Seregon, and he had wished for no others as his new mentor. "It would be beyond perfect, if you would take me under your wing, Lord Elrohir."

Following the start of his training with Elrohir, Duvain has grown immensely, but still was dwarfed in comparison to his Lord Elrohir Seregon. His training continued in the following years, allowing him time to grow as a skilled user of fel magic. Duvain, much like every year since his mentors death, returned to the place he ended his mentors life. As he made his way up to the area that once beheld such a tragic scene, he grinned.

"With the knowledge our leader has bestowed upon us of fel energy, with his gifts, I have been able to research even further, dear Mentor... With an offering of demon blood... The gift of this black book... This crimson fel-forged dagger, Raz'Ahran... I have begun drawing in the power of fel magic. I will be held back no more! Nothings will judge me no longer! I am free! I am Duvain Lae'taonel Seregon, and I will not be commanded by your pathetic form!"