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Player: Cepht

Character Full Name: Randian

Character In-Game Name: Randian

Nickname: ( none .. so far )

Associations: Silvermoon City

Race: Blood Elf

Class: Priest

Age: 114 Years

Sex: Male

Hair: Dark, short, spiked int he back with goatee

Eyes: Left eye has a stronger green hue than right

Weight: 118lb

Height: 6-4

Alignment: Lawful Neutral


Randian typically wears light cloth garments, preferably those that are loose and flow. He has a tendency to wear lighter colors but sometimes will wear reds. He is rather tall and lanky and may appear to move with an odd sense of caution at times.


To all appearances Randian is a soft spoken, timid, and gentle individual. He is an elf of many internal rules and this peculiarity can be quite visible at awkward moments. Those who have spent considerable time with him may notice that his decisions are often based on logic and rules and almost never on instinct or emotion. He will seek to establish bonds and friendship with others as he sees great value and comfort in being well connected with fellow horde members especially with fellow elves.

Randian has a strong dislike towards small creepy things like spiders, mice, and serpents. The mere thought of a spider creeping near by would most likely cause him to lift his feet from the floor and tuck them safely under his body. It may seem a bit odd for an adult male to react like this, and he is sometimes embarrassed by this phobia, but will try to conceal or minimize it.


Once more, the sky was painted with darkness and speckled with tiny glimmering hints of light. The smoky air was drenched with the scent of decaying sin'dori and scourge alike. The frequent wails and battle cries could be heard no more as they were replaced with tired groans and sighs as the injured upon the battleground as death claimed its lot.

Randian was paralyzed with fear at the sight of men and boys alike dragging their broken and dismembered bodies along the grass. They raised gnarled hands with bent finger tips and grasped at the earth, pulling themselves along one hand at a time. The less fortunate just laid there praying for death to come. It was the first time he had been exposed to the harsh realities of war, and hopefully the last he had prayed.

Feeling scared and helpless he turned his back on the survivors to their dismay and ran off to an abandoned structure where and sat upon the cold earth with his knees to his chin and wept like a baby. If he hadn't wailed so loudly then perhaps he might have heard the lifeless dragging footsteps that approached from behind. A crazed human with soiled flesh and a jaw that seemed to hang open had planted his boot in Randian's face and stomped it into the ground. His eyes widened as he stared up at the disfigured miscreant. He tried to scream but could not make a sound, nor could he move his hands or his legs as a result of the fright. The fiend raised a club high over his head and bashed it into Randian's skull. He raised it again for another blow as Randian balled up his fists and screamed for mercy.

With a hiss and a thud a long thick arrow embedded itself in the fiend's armpit. It howled in agony as it dropped the club. Another arrow hissed past its nose. A screaming Blood Knight emerged from the woods and charged the fiend with sword in hand. The fiend removed a small red vial from its pouch and held it up to his lips with its shaky left hand. The sword sliced though the air and cut right though his knuckles and hand with a sickening crunch. A finger tip fell to the ground and the glass vial exploded as it was struck. With great stealth, the paladin withdrew his sword and buried it into the fiend's chest. It fell to its knees, slid off the blade and then collapsed.

Randian laid on the ground screaming, with one hand over his left eye. The Blood Knight quickly checked to see if he was ok. Randian's face was covered with spots of blood and his left eye, when uncovered revealed a small incision and a crimson tear. His eye glowed slightly brighter then his right eye and with a slightly more pronounced argent green hue.

A moment passed and Randian smiled as a euphoric rush took its course though his body. He felt alive, empowered and strong. It was if he had awakened to a new unfamiliar source of power.

"Fel Blood!" the Blood Knight shouted, as he pulled a water pouch from his side. Randian laid there and laughed as if high on ale. The blood knight straddled him and spilled the contents into his eye, hoping to flush it out quickly. He prayed over the young acolyte briefly and then with a single punch to the jaw, knocked him out.

Randian awoke only to find himself bound to a tree with a crude chain of knotted clothes. The Blood Knight sat nearby but out out reach, clothed in nothing but his undergarments. Randian ached and he felt as if he was covered with flies and spiders. He screamed at the top of his lungs, "Get them off of me ! They're crawling all over me!" The paladin sat there and watched him scream as he sipped a mug of warm ale that he had prepared over a small fire. Patiently, he waited with Randian and prayed to the holy light that the addiction to the blood would be broken.

Two days had passed and Randian had begun to return to his normal self. The blood knight introduced himself as "Galleon" and began to loose the makeshift rope that bound him to the tree. Randian was both ashamed of his cowardice and greatful for the aide that Galleon offered. He got up and stretched as Galleon watched him closely.

"Do you usually abandon the injured like this priest?"

"No, I .. I"

"I, know. I've seen it before" Galleon interjected, "You're not the first man to panic under such circumstances."

Randian stared into the distance, not knowing quite what to say. He swallowed, and began to speak, but was interrupted again.

"Save the explanation priest" Galleon said as he shook his head, "Tell me something about yourself. Where are you from? What made you think you were ready to serve on the field?"

Randian paused for what felt like minutes, and began by introducing himself. He began to speak about his childhood which was rather uneventful as he had the fortune of living a sheltered life. His parents had done what they could to minimize his exposure to the wars and skirmishes that had taken place in hopes that one day there would be another era of peace. He progressed seeing that Galleon was growing bored.

"By time I had reached adulthood", he continued, "I had to choose my path. My father, a well respected swordsman, had always wanted for me to be a warrior. My mother, a seamstress by trade, had always persuaded me to become a merchant, much to my disliking. I had no Idea what I wanted to do. One day, while passing though Farstrider square, I spotted a priest standing among a considerable crowd. I watched him for hours and hours as he healed the wounded citizens that were brought to him. I was impressed. He worked the holy light with such ease, and so little effort."

Galleon smirked and began to sip his ale again, still listening carefully.

"Then he stopped what he was doing and just stared at me. I felt uncomfortable and tried to walk away but he pointed at me and beckoned me to halt. I stopped, wondering if I had offended him by staring. As he approached, he asked me why I was watching him. I shrugged. He pointed his old wrinkled finger at me as he asked me about my profession. I was embarrassed to admit that I had none."

Randian then began to carefully slide his fingers into his pocket as he continued, "He poked me in the chest several times saying 'Look here boy, what would you like to be?' I thought about it for a few minutes and replied with a chuckle, 'I'de like to be able to do what you are doing.' "

With the tips of his fingers he cautiously pulled a balled up piece of cloth from his pocket. He stretched it out with his bony fingers revealing a glove as he continued, "The priest then pulled this simple right-handed glove from his pocket and asked me to place it on my left hand. I questioned him at first but then just did as he instructed. He asked me, 'How does the glove feel?' I told him it did not feel right at all. He then instructed me to place the same glove on my right hand. Again he asked me, 'How does the glove feel?' I was about to reply when I realized what he was getting at. The idea of becoming a priest just felt right to me while being a swordsman or tradesman just felt like the glove when it was on the wrong hand. It was at that point that I knew that this for me."

Galleon replied with a skeptical tone, "Perhaps you were destined to spend your days within the safety of the city. What prompted you to enter the battle grounds?" Randian stared into the distance for a moment in thought. He was consumed with a burning urge to gorge out Galleon's eyes but he waited, biting his tongue until the urge passed. In a calm, sincere tone he replied, "It was my duty; I was required to offer aide and so I went."

With a deep sigh, Galleon nodded silently and placed his heavy hand up on Randian's shoulder. Randian recoiled at first but then relaxed letting Galleon touch him. The two made eye contact and Galleon said in a warmer tone, "You better learn to stomach gore. We need good men like yourself who place duty before personal comfort." Randian looked down and nodded in agreement, still thinking about what Galleon would look like with no eyes. He said in a quiet voice, "I know." He raised his head once more, making eye contact with Galleon for a moment, and then the two went their own ways.

In the months to follow, Randian resumed his studies in the priesthood. He worked night and day to master the way of faith. He smote wryms, healed the sick, and tried to right that which was wrong with the intention of one day returning to the battlegrounds to make up for his utter failure and restore his dignity.

To this day his left eye glows with a slightly darker green hue than his right. It serves as a reminder to always be vigilant and to act logically and deliberately despite what he might feel.


As a result of Randian's accidental encounter with Fel blood his left eye is permanently changed and glows with a darker than normal green hue. Like his eyes he is also psychologically scarred from that event. The encounter made an impression on him that he would not otherwise have been exposed to. He may wonder at times what might have happened had he not been forced to withdraw from the blood. Though a curiosity about Fel looms in his mind as a result of the exposure, he safeguards himself with faith in the holy light and uses it as a kind of motivation to stay vigilant and devoted.

The moral axis of Randian's alignment is neutral because he struggles internally between right and wrong. The Fel blood encounter has left him with some repressed evil desires and tendencies while his environment and upbringing have taught him to be relatively good. Being a near-compulsive rule follower, he will strive to be good but will fail here and there. Whether his failure or success at being good is intentional will be left to others to decide.