#sha'tor

16. What does your character do for a living? How do they see their profession? What do they like about it? Dislike?

Varistus is pretty much full-time Exarch of the Sha’tor. He sees it as an honor and a privilege to serve his people to such a capacity. There are some aspects he dislike, such as disciplining unruly members of the Order, or removing them from it entirely. He wishes there was more he could do for wayward folks, but understands there is only so much he can do. 

26. What does your character’s home look like? Personal taste? Clothing? Hair? Appearance?

His home, or rather he and Freiha’s home, is kept clean, though that’s mostly because both of them are out and about, doing their own thing. Since Rokhaan was reunited with his family, the home sits empty for much of the time. Clothing and hair is also kept clean, and when he gets an opportunity to not be in armor, he enjoys clothing that is loose fitting - likely to enjoy not being in armor to its fullest. 

28. Who is your character’s mate? How do they relate to him or her? How did they make their choice?

Freiha. They made their choice after being traveling companions for over a year, and growing closer over time. They are both hard workers and independent, so the relationship took them both by surprise. While they aren’t always around each other or overly affectionate, the overall feeling of the relationship is “We are stronger together.”

39. What do they like to ridicule? What do they find stupid?

He doesn’t really ridicule anything, it isn’t the kind of person he is. He finds the idea of putting the Order at risk for personal gain stupid, goblins (just... in general), and the draenei people trying to become more “human”, when he feels like draenic society has much to offer Azeroth by itself.

49. What about voice? Pitch? Strength? Tempo and rhythm of speech? Pronunciation? Accent?

Varistus, your valor and deeds have been made evident to us throughout the last few months. We would be honored to have you serve as Honor Guard Captain.

His name is Rokhaan, Freiha. He will be staying with us for awhile, if that is acceptable to you?

My brother despises me for what I did to him. There is no hope at redeeming my family - I can only move on.

Light give me strength as I serve the Order as Harbinger. I will protect all of them with every breath in my lungs.

Over the years following the Exodar’s crash, the hermit broken Xeruul watches his brother Varistus make a name for himself through the elements. From his self-exiled place in the Swamp of Sorrows, the elements of wind and water would return to Xeruul, granting him farsight to act as a silent watcher over his estranged sibling. It was never malicious - and for all things that Varistus was, he was not attuned to the elements whatsoever and never knew what Xeruul was doing. The broken missed his brother, it was the only family he believed he had left.

But Xeruul missed his brother deeply. Even if Varistus had scorned him for his new appearance and chided him for accepting Nobundo’s teachings, he was still Xeruul’s brother. Xeruul simply... didn’t know how to broach the subject. Varistus was under the impression that Xeruul was dead - how would he handle the fact that not only he was alive, but had chosen to remain hidden. 

So, the shaman waited, and watched. Watched as Varistus grew into his role on this planet. Found a partner, and then, a family. A new family. The memories of Meirha and Ruth’um were still fresh on Xeruul’s mind... but he longed to be part of Varistus’s newfound happiness. He had had enough - and would finally get Varistus’s attention. Hopefully, the reunion would be everything he hoped for.

The vindicator was a nervous wreck. This was the first time that he had journeyed away from the Temple of Karabor without his daughter accompanying him. He would typically take her with him, being the overprotective father that he was. But she was no longer a little girl. She could fend for and defend herself. It was time that he moved on so she could do the same. But it didn’t make it any easier. 

The mission was simple - take a merchant boat from Karabor to Shattrath, and help escort initiates that wished to join the Anchorite Order back to Karabor. Ships were still in short supply at this point in the draenei’s stay on Draenor, and even though the cities and temples were not fully built, the residents there wasted no time in spreading their culture. While it would have been easier to take a boat back to Karabor, this particular boat was set to sail north with an exploration team to investigate a strange island. So, a simple mission it was for Varistus. 

He met up with the group that he was meant to escort - a group of four, three women and a man. He greeted them as he was meant to, professional and courteous. They appreciated his help, and they were on their way. High Vindicator Akama felt like this work was necessary for a few reasons, mostly for protection, but also to continue the tight-knit community that the draenei had developed on the now-crashed Genedar. Varistus agreed with this logic and was happy in his work... but his mind was not completely here on this mission, and still at Karabor with his daughter.

Mid-way through Talador, this distraction came to a head when Varistus missed a group of Arrakoa flying overhead, making several sweeps around the group, and eventually swooping down to attack. Varistus was completely caught off guard, and the group he was escorting had no way of protecting themselves. The group would have been murdered quickly while Varistus recovered if not for the intervention of a pair of rangari - draenei scouts and trackers - that happened to be in the area and heard the commotion. They made quick work of the Arrakoa, and helped Varistus get back on his hooves. 

Her first slammed hard against the crystalline windows of the Genedar as she watched Argus become no more than a spec in the grand Great Dark Beyond.

“No! We have to go back! WE HAVE TO GO BACK!” she screamed, her hands were already becoming blue and bloodied before the Praetors grabbed her, pulling away from the window.

“Calm down!” they demanded, pushing her hard against the wall on the other side. “We can’t go back, this is it! It’s done, it’s over, this is our fate now!”

But Vivaaldi wasn’t buying it. The Eredar were on the verge of space travel, they could turn this ship around, head back to Argus, where she could save her father, the town and everyone that didn’t deserved to be left behind.

“Tell the Prophet, tell the pilot that we need to go back! There are people that could have made it aboard this thing! I cannot be the only one that knows this!”

The Praetor looked crestfallen, she recognized the man as one of the formerly faceless officers that patrolled around Mac’Aree with the Vigilants. She didn’t pay him much attention, but he always seemed to be stationed around the Conservatory. He took a deep breath as he looked down at the ground.

“There… isn’t a pilot, not like a real one… It’s a Naaru.”

“A WHAT?”

“A Naaru, you know, the holy beings of Light. They answered the Prophet's call and saved us, saved us from becoming monsters, from becoming… man’ari. “ the man wrinkled his nose as he said the last word, like it was a disgusting and sour taste in his mouth. Even Vivaaldi had an adverse reaction to it, if this is what they are going to be calling the ones that sided with Lord Kil’Jaeden and Archimonde, then so be it.

By this time, Vivaaldi had calmed down, she rubbed her hands that had become raw as she pummeled the the window. A few scratches here and there, but nothing major. She took a moment, the air between the two coming tense as each were waiting for the other to say something.

“I thought they were fairy tales.” Viv had finally whispered, her gaze focused on the metal floor of, what she would later call the vessel, Genedar.

“Apparently not, apparently T’uure and the A’tamal crystals weren’t just ancient relics of the past. Well, yes, but they were also gifts and stuff.” the young man was trying to make light of the situation, but the weight of what was to come had already settled in.

“I see…” was all she could respond with, monotoned and listless.

Raising her head, Viv nodded to the man, before wordlessly, taking her leave. The Praetor didn’t try to stop her, he knew she wouldn’t be the only one he would have to try to stop breaking the ship's windows…

Viv found a place, out of the way of the general chaos that was happening, to sit and stare off into preverbal space. The general roar and rumble of everyone trying to do something, trying to make sense of everything, became white noise.

As she sat there, massaging her hands.

What felt like hours, but was only a mere couple of minutes, Viv snapped out of her revere. She pulled a book from the shoulder bag she had, one of the few things she had with her, before she was ushered to this unknown future. The book was brand new, her father had just given it to her as a congratulatory gift for graduating the Conservatory with the highest honours.

Oh and he was so proud too.

In his letter he gushed and showered his “Little Astral Glory” with praise. Stating that the entire town was so proud of her too and when she came back to Azurelight, there would be a big celebration and Mumallus would host the finest feast.

Tears welled up in her eyes.

She would never get the feast, she would never see her father or the town again.

They were gone…

It wasn’t just her father that raised her, it was the town. They rallied around Onmir when the small bundle appeared on his doorstep, donating and contributing everything they could. The man was a saint, he did all he could do to help others, without expecting anything in return. So when the town decided to pay him back ten fold, he was beside himself.

So while Onmir was related to her by blood, the town was truly her family.

So that’s why, what she was about to do next, would cement her future.

Opening up the book, she pressed both hands against it, closing her eyes as she enchanted the item. This book, this journal, would serve a purpose to allow her to find a cure. What the cure was, she wasn’t sure yet, but Vivaaldi didn’t graduate the Conservatory of the Arcane with the highest honours for nothing.

A “gift” is something you receive without question, a “curse” was something you receive whether you wanted to or not.

For those left behind on Argus, for those that will have to take this Sargaras’ “gift” to survive. She will find that cure.

“To my dear father Onmir and the town of Azurelight.

I write this to you from aboard the Naaru vessel of the Genedar, a ship gifted to us by the fabled Naaru who have heeded the Prophet Velen’s call and saved us. As I write this, Argus is now a star in the Great Dark Beyond and nothing more, I can’t even tell the difference between our grand world and the rest of the stars.

But that makes no difference, for what I’m about to say.

Magic is vast and grand and even with the Eredar’s vast knowledge of it’s workings, there are still some things that remain a mystery for us. But one thing is known for sure, that words hold power.

Written with enough emotion and power, words can last a lifetime, can curse or bless a child or family blood line or save lives with enough meaning.

With that, I vow, until my dying breath, that I will save you and the town of Azurelight. I WILL come back to Argus and will sever the chains that bind you to the ‘savor” of the Eredar people. I promise that I will use my knowledge and education to find a cure for this curse that has been bestowed upon my people and you.

You all, most of all, do not deserve the fate that will be coming.

So I, Vivaaldi, daughter of Onmir and child of Azurelight. The last town you’ll visit before you head into Mac’Aree and the best stawapple pie this side of the city, vow to you all, that I will come back and save you.

This is my promise to you.

The lamp light flickered as she closed the worn journal.

Over 25,000 years had past since she wrote that impassioned entry into the book. Since then the newly deemed “Draenei” had seen many a worlds, had hope taken and snatched away from them. Had genocide brought onto them by the people they tentatively called allies, but yet survived.

The First Archon, a title she never thought she would carry, smiled tiredly to herself as her finger brushed against the world weary cover. She was smart to enchant it with never ending pages, for all the research and information that was contained within, was enough to make the so called library of Karazhan stand and take notice.

Information about the Krokul and Lost Ones, in which she was sure held the answers to breaking the “Curse of Sargaras”, as she deemed it. Because, even in the 25,000 years, her vow still held strong.

“First Archon, are you still up?” came the voice of Exarch Varistus over the communication crystal that sat on her desk. “If you are, the Arbiter and I need some assistance.”

Vivaaldi didn’t respond, as she stared out the window of her apartment in the magical city of Dalaran. The entire city hovered over the waters as it loomed over the Broken Shore and the adjacent Isles.  

But even in the reflection of the shops just across the street she saw it, looming over them, taunting them.

Argus.

“Soon…” she said to herself, as she looked over at the book on the table.