Sigvard

Information

Player: Torn

Character Full Name: Sigvard de Vrien

Character In-Game Name: Sigvard

Nickname(s): He despises them

Association(s): Stormwind Warlocks

Race: Human

Class: Warlock

Age: 59

Sex: Male

Hair: His hair is black, with gray streaks. His beard is neatly trimmed and groomed.

Eyes: Sigvard has shifty, grey eyes.

Weight: 64 kg, little to no muscle.

Height: 1. 80 cm.

Appearance

Usual Garments/Armor: He wears extravagant robes in many colours, favouring red and black, when in public. As a warlock he dons darker robes, sometimes a hood and capes he can use to conceal items.

Other: A dagger could be glimpsed from beneath his cape and various pouches and bags as well.

Personality

Sigvard is your typical noble snob. He believes himself to be better than everyone around him, especially those that do not wield magic. He has a grudging respect for his superior warlocks but secretly plots to remove them, once he is powerful enough.

At first contact he would be seen as polite, friendly and overall a well-behaved gentleman. But if anyone were to catch him alone or with someone he knows well, they would see through the charade. Sigvard puts on a mask to placate his clients and fellow nobles, while his true colours are mostly arrogant, sarcastic and sadistic.

His views on other races are mostly the same. Dwarves and Gnomes that follow his path he can tolerate, but anyone else is dirt beneath his expensive boots. The Horde is a crude gathering of barbaric beasts, the Forsaken may hold valuable knowledge and power, but they are the enemy after all.

Elves and Draenei are fools, especially the Blood Elves, as he feels they were far to reckless, and thus not worthy of their powers.

History

Born in Stormwind before the First War, he was the son af a minor noble: Markus de Vrien. Markus was a Warlock, and studied secretly with the order of warlocks in Stormwind, the group of mages seeking further power through demonic rituals. His mother was one of Markus' servants who lived in their manor. Markus had fallen for her and taken her as his wife.

Sigvard was only nine years old when he heard loud noises coming from the cellar. His parents were fighting, standing in some sort of green, glowing circle. He watched as his mother accused Markus of illegal activites and meddling with demons. He watched as his father, in a fit of blind rage, cast a horrible spell, throwing his wife into a wall with a ball of sickening green smoke and liquid.

She died, her chest and neck burned by some sort of acid. To this day, Sigvard felt nothing over the loss of his mother. He only felt a profound curiosity and interest in the magic his father wielded. Markus saw Sigvard standing there, his only son.. Just a child. The warlock didn't even blink as he asked Sigvard to help him conceal the charred body. And Sigvard did without flinching.

A few months later the young boy approached his father, begged him to teach Sigvard about the powerful magic. Markus denied his request for a long time. Until Sigvard's twelfth birthday. Markus brought him to a meeting, where the Warlocks of Stormwind met in secret to study and discuss. He was to become a student of theirs.

For eight years he studied alongside those the other members had deemed worthy. Mostly the children of the elder warlocks, but some had been picked out of the crowds and tested, making sure that they were capable of becoming a student, and keeping their secret. At the age of twenty, he was promoted to a full member of their secret society. No longer an acolyte, he had grown up to be a promising warlock.

This promotion changed nothing. All his years as a student Sigvard had dreamed of the day he would graduate. Become a real warlock, with all the powers and rights they held. To him, his superiors seemed like the most powerful men and women in the world. But to his surprise, they were not so different from their students.

His days were spent in darkened chambers, reading and writing, and discussing this spell and that ritual with the others. Just like students in a classroom. Sigvard was furious, believing that they had all, his father included, tricked him. He vowed to devote his life to becoming the warlock he had dreamed about. The man with all the power, he who commanded the others. Six years of further studying, performing rituals and completing new spells.. Little did he know just how important his skills would become, how necessary they were for his survival.

Reports of strange creatures attacking caravans near the Black Morass. The warlocks were worried, many of them still held positions as mages of Stormwind and the reports they got were troubling. Sigvard went with his father, now an old man and chief warlock, to invtestigate. They went with a caravan of hired soldiers, under the guise of a nobleman and his son, transporting goods. House de Vrien was a noble house, with little power or authority, but it served as a cover for their dark acts.

They never got close to the Morass. So far had the monsters gone that they barely got across the Elwynn border before being attacked by a small raiding party. The hired soldiers fell quickly, and Markus was killed almost instantly by a dark spell. Sigvard rode back as fast as he could, leaving his father behind even before the spell killed him. But looking back Sigvard felt no sympathy or sorrow, once again all he felt was interest in the monstrous spellcasters. He recognised the spell as being demonic. A group of three warlocks stood in a circle, quite for away from the caravan and channeled the spell.

Markus' skin had slouched off his body.

Sigvard made it to Stormwind, and instantly reported his fathers' death to the House of Nobles. He was now the head of House de Vrien. Soon after he reported the same to the warlock order. These ‘orcs' apparently had expertly skilled warlocks. A shame they would not join them..

Stormwind was attacked and the warlocks had to flee with the rest of the refugees. Many of them died in the conflict, for they were called to fight as mages. Sigvard escaped, but his estate and his earthly possessions were gone. He took all of his money with him, guarding it closely until they reached Lordaeron.

From there he pondered where to go. Dalaran was his first thougt, but he had no connections with mages. He had been a warlock from day one, no previous mage training. So he opted to go to Capital City, bought a house in the finer part of the grand capital and set up a small shop. From there he bartered and traded goods, saving all the money he earned. Soon he had enough to hire assistants to take care of his shop during the day.

After that he spent most of his days locked in his cellar, wich he had changed into a study for fel magic. In the evening he would visit the shop to collect the money, pay the staff and lock up. After about a year he was a rich merchant, with three shops in various places in the city, and a set trade route to the small towns around Capital City. The trade routes were interupted by the orcs during the Second War, but other than that Sigvard was not bothered much by the conflict, as he never left the city and the orcs never made it through the gates.

His studies were everything to him, and he had found like-minded people amongst the Lordaeron people. Some of his old colleagues remained in contact, as they shared whatever books, notes and artifacts each had managed to save, but the bulk of the new order were Lordaerians. He was now a powerful warlock in his own right, and on top of that wealthy. He bought expensive clothes and items, moved to a much bigger house, and attended dinners and parties with the high class of Lordaeron. He was seen as charming, witty and polite, everything a noble merchant should be.

His rich friends were a bit saddened when he packed up everything, closed shop and moved back to the rebuilt Stormwind. There he started business again, limiting himself to one shop in the city, and two others in the neighbouring areas. Trade routes were set up once again, and his noble house was reinstated in the House of Nobles, recognising him as a minor noble of the old kingdom. There the Warlocks of Stormwind started meeting once again, now with new members and students. They had people all over Alliance lands, and their base was more perfect than it had ever been. Sigvard was impressed at what they had accompliced in the years he had spent in Lordaeron.

Ever since he has spent most of his life practicing the fel arts, all the while keeping up his disguise of being a charming and well-mannered noble merhcant, while behind the curtains his thougts and acts would make even war veterans shudder.