Medorian

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Information

Player: Rowgen

Character Full Name: Medorian Ragesong

Character In-Game Name: Medorian

Association(s): Independent, the Moon Guard (formerly)

Race: Night Elf

Class: Demon Hunter

Age: 12.834

Sex: Male

Hair: Blue

Eyes: Amber (once upon a time)

Weight: 152 kg

Height: 2.41 m

Scale: 1.13

Appearance

Medorian is a menacing specimen, burly for a demon hunter and tall for a night elf. As is customary for demon hunters, he leaves his chest bare, proudly displaying his broad-shouldered, sinewy physique and ritualistic markings. The runic tattoos are pitch black, with symmetrical designs that alternate between sharp, jagged edges and smooth, crescent-shaped ones.

Personality

Medorian is very much concerned with himself and little else, being a self-serving and self-absorbed - if not self-fixated - individual. Throughout his life, his ambition has been a driving force behind his actions as he hungrily grasped for glory at every opportunity. He has an opportunistic view of the world and an elevated view of himself. He feels no remorse at taking advantage of others, if it benefits him, and he views himself as a natural superior to his peers - in his world, he has no peers. However, he possesses no small amount of cunning, and prefers to conceal his narcissistic whims behind a mask of good intentions and greater purpose.

He enjoys another obsession beside himself, however. For all his egocentrical tendencies, he still keeps true to his oath, fulfilling his sworn duty to hunt demons with a harmonic blend of grim determination and fiery passion. Though many demon hunters wield their runes as a sign of noble sacrifice, Medorian is not one of them. In truth, he rather enjoys his existence, and the hunting and slaying of demons satisfies a primordial sadistic streak in him.

History

Medorian was born in the vast kaldorei empire, long before the Sundering. Like many of those born under Azshara’s rule, he shared the plight of striving tirelessly for the notice - or perhaps even appreciation - of the Queen. However, he hailed from the lesser branch of the elven empire, and as Kaldorei he could never count himself amongst the people who called themselves the Queen’s favored - the Highborne. Nonetheless, even his peers were possessed with ambition and a thirst for glory. He was raised in it, molded by the thousands of hands grasping for glory, in a race against one another to the Queen’s favor and the respect of their peers. He was no different from the countless other elves, but for one fact: Medorian was one of the largest. As primitive as it was, the fact that he was physically superior to a majority his peers was a great source of confidence for him as a child, and laid the secure foundations for a confidence - and disdain for his lessers - that stuck with him for the rest of his life.

However, by the time he had matured, Medorian had learned that a man’s true worth was measured in his magical skill, and not his brawn. While he had physical strength and skill, it mattered little in a society that gradually tilted more and more towards selective breeding, in the attempt of achieving the greatest magical affinity. Discontent with being surpassed by his perceived lessers, Medorian determined that developing his magical skill was paramount - he refused to be perceived as a runt. Surpassing those he had once looked at with disdain was a matter of pride. And thus, Medorian poured his heart and mind into the study of the Arcane arts, progressively advancing from the periphery of the empire towards the capital.

In his journey to the heart of the empire, Medorian learned of the many sorcerer organizations who vied for the Queen’s affections. Chief amongst these was the Moon Guard, the sorcerer-warriors who earned their place as the guardians of Zin-Azshari, and Medorian was hellbent on earning his place amongst these kaldorei, second only to nobility. He hoped that perhaps the Moon Guard could be a stepping stone for him to climb even higher in rank, but earning his place in the Moon Guard was no easy task. In fact, it took him several decades of dedicated service and meticulous study of the Arcane before he managed to prove his skills and finally was admitted to the Moon Guard. Once within, he wasted no time resting on his laurels. He hungered for greater glory still, but there was no time for him to enter the world of intrigues before war erupted across the kaldorei empire.

Like many, Medorian was kept in the dark about his Queen’s betrayal. He believed that the Lord Counsellor Xavius was to blame for the Highborne’s betrayal and worship of demons. Regardless, Medorian viewed the war as an opportunity to show his true worth, and to earn even greater glory combatting the invading demonic hordes. The war ended in victory, although the Kaldorei Resistance’s forces were devastated in the great explosion at the climax of the war. Medorian was fortunate enough to count himself among the survivors, but in the aftermath of the war the Moon Guard was disbanded and his life’s work had left him with nothing. To add insult to injury, his magic was viewed with great suspicion and condemnation from his peers. He once again found himself the object of disdain, something his wounded pride had suffered too much to handle. While many of his comrades took up the mantle of druidism, he wandered aimlessly for a long time, silently chafing at the injustice done to him.

Then suddenly after many years of relative peace, tension again rose to a peak between the Highborne and the night elves. He learned from gossip that after Illidan’s attempt to restore the Well of Eternity, the Highborne were inspired to openly defy the kaldorei laws forbidding the practice of Arcane. Medorian sympathized with the Highborne, because he had no trouble understanding that their situation was not any different from his own. However, the Highborne were finally exiled for their transgressions, and Medorian understood that he was without allies if he wanted to appeal the law. Over the years, Medorian became increasingly agitated and resentful of the night elf leadership. He longed for a way out, and to find his path once again. He became an embittered loner who spent his time only concerning himself with his own business, but though he never let it on, he eagerly listened to rumors. There were those who whispered of exiles who underwent similar rituals to the ones Illidan had undergone prior to his apprehension by the night elf leadership. These sorcerous warriors drew on the powers of old, and hushed voices named them demon hunters. Medorian was enamored.

After much deliberation, Medorian resolved to strike out on his own, seeking these dark wanderers. It took him years to track one down, but when he was finally there, crouching behind foliage and watching an elf slowly draw his blood-soaked warglaives out of a demon carcass, he felt like he couldn’t possibly belong anywhere else. However, he had not caught the demon hunter unawares, and in a heartbeat he found himself at the exile’s mercy. Despite the fear pounding in his chest, he stated his purpose there, and found himself meeting the demon hunter’s empty gaze. It was as though it pierced him, even though the demon hunter had no eyes to see him with. After a long silence, Medorian made his request once again, and the demon hunter answered with refusal. They discussed the matter, and occasionally the conversation turned to argument, before it calmed once again, but finally Medorian had succeeded in convincing the demon hunter to give him a chance.

One chance was all he wanted. He desired nothing more than prove his worth once again, but for all his experience from his days among the Moon Guard, he was an amateur next to the demon hunter. He joined the demon hunter in his hunt, but even though he tried to keep up to the best of his ability, the hunter proved too uncannily fast for him. By the hunt’s end, the demon hunter told him that if he wanted to become his apprentice, he could not be a burden. Medorian swore he would not, to which the demon hunter promised that after his training, he wouldn’t be.

The demon hunter pushed him hard. He would accept nothing but physical excellence, and despite thinking highly of his athletic skill, even Medorian found the tasks put before him gruelling. Even so, Medorian persisted, and he succeeded. However, his body was not yet a weapon. Further trials remained to him, even though he had grown both stronger and faster under the demon hunter’s tutelage. The next stage was expanding his mind, and his knowledge of demons. He was commanded to observe his master while he hunted all sorts of demonic creatures, and whenever his master had defeated a demon, he was required to report his observations, and then the master would fill in the details. This was repeated endlessly, until he could give satisfactory explanations of each breed of demon he had observed.

When he was satisfied with the apprentice’s knowledge of demons, Medorian’s master commanded him to find a demon, any demon, and return its heart and weapons to him. What Medorian didn’t know, was that the trial was two-fold. He tracked down a felguard and slew it, claiming its weapons and heart, and then he performed the ritual of binding. The ritual was a long and painful one, in which he inscribed demonic runes upon his body, and bound the felguard’s soul to his own. After the ritual’s conclusion, he was gripped by a feverish sickness, but he returned to his master regardless, only to find that he had not waited for him. He set out to find him, never stopping to rest, and by the time he found him again, the sickness coupled with his depleted strength had brought him near to death. But his master was pleased.

After this trial, Medorian learned that his master had melted down the weapons he had procured in the last trial, and formed warglaives out of them for him. These warglaives were now gifted to him, and his next trial was to learn how to wield them. Daily his master would challenge him, beating him down and bloody, only to repeat the process the next day. This persisted until the apprentice could endure the beating, then until he could defend himself sufficiently from his master’s strikes, and then until he even managed to land a few blows of his own. Then, finally, his master was content with him, and he allowed him a day’s respite before the next ritual.

When they now met, his master was clutching a dagger coated in demonic blood. He lead him to a secluded grove, where he gave the dagger to Medorian. He instructed him to cut out his own eyes with the dagger. This would grant him the spectral sight which he needed to combat demons. Medorian hesitated. For a time he held the dagger aloft over his face. His head was tilted back and he looked to the night sky above. He bitterly thought that no matter how beautiful the stars were, they would never match the radiance lost in the Sundering, and that was the last thought that passed through his head before he plunged the dagger into one eye, and pain seared through every inch of his being. He screamed like he had never screamed before, but after prying the first eye out of its socket, he took the dagger to the second, and let it suffer the same fate as the first. When it was removed, he let the dagger fall, and he only got to see the murky world around him for the blink of an eye before he collapsed in the grove.

When he awoke days later, his warglaives lay beside him, though he was forced to feel their shape to find the grips. His master handed him a strip of cloth, and told him to bind it around his head, as a sign of his sacrifice. Then, he gave him his final task. He was to track down a powerful demon that had crossed into Azeroth, and slay it. He was given no indication of its nature, nor its current location, but was told where it had been summoned and in which direction it had left for afterwards. With that, he left his master to hunt the demon. The hunt lasted for many weeks, and took him far away from known lands. By the time he had finally caught up with the demon, he knew without a doubt what it was: a wrathguard. He knew the signs from his master’s lessons, and knew that a difficult fight lay before him.

Capitalizing on the element of surprise, he ambushed the demonic warrior and threw himself at it, warglaives shrieking as they clashed and ground against the demon’s blades. The demon had strength and size, but Medorian had a speed and agility, and even though each blow from the demon was punishing, Medorian cut past its defenses and opened many wounds. Several times he was forced to give ground and retreat from incoming flames, and each time he threw himself at the demon once again, giving it no more respite than he had to. The fight dragged on, and only ended when his blade pierced the demon’s chest. As it died, he drew it into himself, binding it within his own body and soul as he had done with the felguard before it. With that, he had completed his trial, but his training was not yet finished before one final act: the oath.

He returned to his master, and they once again went to the grove in which he’d cut out his eyes. There, he knelt down with warglaives in hand, and pledged himself to the eternal hunt: he would hunt all demons until either the death of all their ilk, or his own. With his trial and training complete, his master grimly wished him luck in his hunt, and then he let him loose. Decades passed, and they turned to centuries, while Medorian hunted. He never looked back to his old life with regret, only forwards, toward new days and new prey. He lived on the fringe of kaldorei society, but never sought out the friendship of his old kinsmen. He was feared and reviled, and he cared naught about changing it. For a long time, he nearly forgot about kaldorei altogether. During these years, he gave himself the name Ragesong, from the blood that boiled in his veins and the thrill that filled him during the hunt.

Then, millennia after his trials, he heard of the Betrayer’s antics in Outland, and the rumors inspired him, stirring a dormant feeling deep within him that he had thought long dead: ambition. He pondered the news, wondering if he too could surround himself with followers - step out of the shadows, as it were - and gain the notoriety he had craved in his younger days.

Skills and Abilities

  • Cursed Vision: To Medorian’s eyes, demons and their magic lights up the otherwise dark and murky world.
  • Immolation: Drawing on demonic magic, Medorian can engulf himself in felfire, which burns any who draw too close. He is also capable of channeling the magical energy into his warglaives, to restrict the fire to engulfing them.
  • Mana Burn: Medorian can ignite residual Arcane energy inside an arcanist, causing it to combust and harm them.
  • Drain Demon Soul: In a vampiric fashion, Medorian can empower himself and fuel his spells by draining a demon’s essence.
  • Scorched Earth: Medorian has developed a technique where he channels felfire into the ground surrounding him, instantly blasting anyone in his vicinity.