Zaronn

"Scholars pore over the yellowed

pages of ancient tomes in search

of the lore that is their power."

Zaronn Runewhisper
Player	Aphetoros
Title	<Scholar>
Gender	Male
Race	Dalaran Human
Class	Wizard
Age	36
Height	1.79m
Weight	98 kg
Eyes	Pale Blue
Hair	Red-Blonde
Affilliation(s)	Dalaran (The Kirin Tor, by assoc.), Argent Crusade
Occupation	Scholar [[1]]
Relative(s)	Gerane Blackvine (Father), Silyse Runewhisper (Mother)
Mentor(s)	N/A
Student(s)	N/A
Companion(s)	N/A
Alignment	Neutral Good
Status	Alive

Appearance

He wears dark purple robes with lavender flames tailored into them. He is always seen with an ever-growing spellbook. He carries with him a backpack that usually goes unnoticed, due to it being sewn into his cloak. (And this is a real cloak—about the shoulders, unless tossed off them.)

Personality

The man can’t stop seeking new spells; one might call him addicted to seeing new magic unfurl before him. He is extremely self-conscious, and as such he forces himself to work out in order to maintain a presentable personal appearance. He is kind, and compassionate to those he cares about, but with a sharp tongue and a trained wit he will quip at those he finds ignorant, or dislikes. Not only is he self-conscious, but he is an extremely difficult person to gain the trust of; he also goes through leaps in mood where he could be happy and excited at one moment, and then gradually (though still swiftly) have his joy fade into anger, bitterness, or sadness. He disregards conventional methods of learning as ‘invalid’ and vastly prefers perfect recitations of magic through written tomes, almost as if a fine play yet unmemorized.

History

Zaronn was born to two commoners—a wealthy merchant mother and a librarian as a father. With his mother’s wealth, he was sent away to a school where naught existed by learning. Throughout his weeks there, the only thing available to do with free-time was books, or small apparatuses geared for learning only. He, as a result, was turned into a reticent, studious child. He made little friends at the school, though it was not abnormal. None of the children spoke to each other much, as they were far too engrossed in their books. He never truly wondered about his family—the school was all he ever knew.

As he progressed to the age of eleven, the way of life at his boarding school changed, and the kids slowly moved away from noses buried deep within yellowed pages and toward awkward social interaction. Except for during meals, genders were separate and they were scolded if they were found speaking to members of the opposite gender outside allotted timeslots. Many of the boys around him became interested in the girls, and as they grew up Zaronn seemed to remain the same. He didn’t find them interesting, nor did he care about the silliness that he thought was the kids’s newfound ‘dating game.’ He stayed back and kept reading his books, along with a few other children who were more interested in what the crinkling pages had to say than long-haired pretty things.

It was at this time that Zaronn formed his first intimate relationship; the boy was only a few months older than he, and they both shared similar interests. His name was Colrin Cloudhearth. They talked often about what they wanted to do when they grew older, and how they both wanted to become accomplished magi. They used their vast imaginations to act out mystical dramas and comedies, and as they reached upwards in their teenage years (to the age of fifteen) they realized their friendship had grown into something more, and after a time they became inseparable. Their great friendship soon became a relationship, and after many awkward conversations it was uncovered (though only to one another) that their attractions were mutual. Thinking nothing strange of it, they could be seen holding hands in public, and acting just as their other friends had with their girlfriends of old. They found nothing wrong in their romance, but their peers saw it differently and constantly teased and poked fun at their relationship.

The administration of their school got involved, and after punishing them both harshly the school altered their classes so that they were not see one another, and though this stung Zaronn, the wound in Colrin’s heart was far worse. Alone with some of the most hateful of his age who knew of Colrin’s persuasion, the taunting he received was merciless and without end, and without Zaronn to comfort him, he began to fall into depression. This emotion eventually became so strong, the child had dreams where he sank into the ocean and drowned. He wrote a long letter, and leaving it on his desk he fled the dormitory in the night and stared at his own reflection in the moonlight reflecting off the black of the mountain lake. He felt as if now, only his mirror image could give him solace, and with an anxious breath he dove into the water and swam deeper as if chasing his own likeness until his breath ran out, his consciousness faded and so did his life.

When Zaronn found out about Colrin’s suicide, he nearly went mad. The school’s administration had burned the letter before he could even read it, and because of this Zaronn locked himself in his room—keeping out his roommate—for just over a day. He didn’t sleep, and he began sobbing tearlessly as his eyes seemed to no longer let loose the droplets of sorrow. Eventually, the door was broken down and he was force-fed a meal and ordered to drink water. When alone, Zaronn shattered the glass he’d been given, and used the jagged edges to draw lines of crimson across his arms. If his eyes refused to give tears, then he would force his body to bleed them. He often thought of ending his own life, but he could never bring himself to make the deciding cut.

Zaronn did not get over this death for years, and during the years of mourning his arms became a canvas for abstract zigzags of pink-white scar-tissue. To this day he has kept the piece of glass that he first cut himself with—almost as if a morbid souvenir. He threw himself back into his studies, promising for some length of time that he would no longer let himself become attached to anyone; too afraid that he would lose them. He taught himself the basics of magical theory through tomes, and understanding them he stuck to books for his studies.

He saved the money his parents sent him for food and clothes, and saved up his money for more expensive spellbooks, and he taught himself (en privé) to conjure fire on his fingertips, a mist of water, and a teardrop of ice. He was so enthralled by arcane magic’s pull, that as soon as he’d cast his first spell he knew he would need to cast spells every day of his life. One might call it an addictive personality; he thrived on magic’s euphoria, almost as if he needed its caress to feel a semblance of joy. He bought more books of similar nature, and soon he taught himself to bring forth a ball of flame, a lance of ice and a tiny missile of arcane energy. These spells being the only he can still cast without reading it out of his books.

He wrote a letter of application to what one of the modern day might refer to as a scholarship program to one of Dalaran’s many prestigious academies, and though the letter took him near two weeks to perfect, his reply came swift with an air of disappointment. The scholarship program denied him, the rejection letter claiming that there was nothing special about him—nothing to set him apart from any other child seeking magical education. Enraged by his denial without what he deemed ‘proper reason’, he stalked outside and into the woods. He ran along pebbles and cobbles until he reached the black lakes where his lover of old had so long ago, it seemed, drowned. Though four years had passed since fifteen-year old Colrin’s death, he remembered those days as if they happened only yesteryear.

He imagined Colrin’s flight, the nervous swallow and tightening of his fists before he waded deeper and deeper into the murk. He now resolved that he would not give up on himself like Colrin had; he would live well enough for the both of them, and he would not be rejected. He hurled a ball of flame into the water, laughing to himself as the arcane fire burned still in the brine. He willed the smoldering sphere to dance in the water, and after a moment he let it skip across the surface like a stone, leaving trails of steam before unceremoniously, the fire died. He refined his letter another week, and sent it to a larger college of the city of magi, and when the reply came he spat (metaphorically so) in the faces of those who said he wouldn’t amount to anything.

Within the night he was packed and ready to leave the boarding school for Dalaran (aged twenty), and he slept uneasily; but why unease crept into his heart he did not know. That night he dreamt of Colrin, and saw his face sagging and waterlogged; he couldn’t help but feeling it was somehow his fault. Dismissing the thoughts, he left the school for the last time with all of his belongings.

Upon moving into the Dalaran College, he was given much to his jocularity, a singular room. He was given no roommate, and thusly had plenty of silence to study within. Devoted still to his studies of magic, his unconventional methods of casting were disapproved by most of his teachers until he found the study of inscriptions. He learned to rewrite spells and though unskilled in casting from memory, Zaronn is proficient in ‘sight-casting.’ What a musician would call sight-singing, that being singing a piece without any prior knowledge of it, Zaronn has been taught to read and preform spells quickly and at a glance (providing he has the proper materials and mana.)

He studied for a few years longer at the school until he was twenty-three, reaching the pinnacle of what he could be taught by the teachers at his school, at least in his particular field of understanding. He went on to continue his studies of history and magical theory, composing some of his own spells and charms during his free-time. He went to study in the field about old trollen runes and tradition in the Stranglethorn Vale for about a year, in the latter months of his expediton having been struck by a painful jungle disease. He returned to Dalaran and was admitted to its hospitals for near a year, coming face to face with death himself. Writing in a journal, he referred to the sickness as ‘Vale Rot,’ as it seemed as if his insides had begun to die quicker than new cells could be made.

His fever grew as his body struggled to dominate the infection, and his skin paled to shades brighter than fresh-fallen snow. He was rarely awake, his will to remain conscious unable to defeat the pressing illness. It seemed as if there would be no hope, until an envoy from Lordaeron arrived at the city gates. A few paladins had accompanied the messengers as guardians, and the hospital sent for their aid. It had been sometime since this infirmary had seen an ailment so resilient, and they prayed to the Light the paladin would be powerful enough to strip Zaronn of the disease.

Placing his plated palm on the sickly, thin chest of the scholar, the knight by the name of Lord Hocksen called into what must have only been the Heavens themselves, his voice so loud. An effusion of gold erupted beneath his fingertips, and minutes later the body was enveloped in Light. The virus was dominated by the Light’s energy, and the paladin continued filling the mage’s body with healing light. “It is done.” The words settled into Zaronn’s memory, though comatose he was, he committed the Lord’s name to his mind.

Now age twenty-five, he resumed his studies in Dalaran without much thought or direction. He spent his time teaching about arcane theory and increasing his collection of rare magical tomes. He had just procured a rather rare tome written in the High Elven language. He, having knowledge of only Magical Elven and not a practical speaking dialect, hired the aid of a linguist and had the manuscript rewritten in Common. From the tome he copied the basic methods of conjuring arcane lightning into his violet book of favorites. A year or so passed uneventfully, aside from increasingly vivid dreams of drowning. He was in his study high in one of Dalaran’s many towers when the familiar buzz of magic seemed to throb in the air. The energy so familiar, and yet somehow twisted and tainted. The entire city seemed to shake under the weight of some primeval force. He dropped the tome he was holding and headed to the window, but as he walked the entire tower shook and groaned. It began to fall. Cursing loudly, Zaronn darted for his cloak (a backpack sewn into the cloth) and with his other hand, grabbed his violet book. He flipped the pages, to find as spell as he felt gravity begin to shift its pull. He roared the spell, the runic designs on the page lighting up and encircling him until he vanished in a crackle of energy.

When he returned to the site, he recovered very few of his tomes, and thusly had no reason to remain in Dalaran’s midst. He had nowhere else to go, however, and so he stayed to help rebuild the town as best he could.

Long after, when the forces of the Alliance mobilized to the North, Zaronn followed them in hopes he’d find any sorts of primeval magic that might linger on the unknown continent. He found little that he didn’t already know, but nonetheless he aided the armies when he could, or when he felt like it. But other than that, the years up to present have been far too uneventful for Zaronn’s new taste, and though the fog of depression lingers a touch over him, he feels his feet itching to explore the world once more.

Skills and Abilities

Zaronn has the ability to read almost any spell (of arcane origin) from a book, tome, grimoire, or even a sheet of notebook paper, and cast it if he has the required reagents and mana. The downside to this is, he doesn’t memorize his spells and he must have the appropriate book to use it. As such, he carries several tomes with him at all times, although he inscribes his favorite spells in a violet-bound book. He is also an inscriptionist and, if you prefer, inscriber.

Books, Tomes, Manuals and Grimoires

(See Main Article Here)

The pages linked to here are the spellbooks, GM approved, that Zaronn has acquired either through roleplay or, in some cases, his past. Most of the books will be used for either a specific type of magic, or a specific spell. For example, there will be an entire book merely for an area of affect lightning spell.

Book 1

Book 2

Book 3

Book 4

Book 5

Book 6

Timeline

   Key: This color is a regular event. || This color is a key event.

• 4/5/12- Zaronn left Dalaran for Hearthglen, wondering if he could perhaps find anything of interest there.

• 4/6/12- Zaronn participated in ending the siege of Caer Darrow with the Argent Crusade. They captured the necromancer holding the forces, and he procured a fine reward.