Application - Zaruun

Character name:
Zaruun

Character description:

(sorry about the length, it kind of took on a life of its own...)

I have always been a dreamer, that is how I entered this existence. Even back then, under the velvet glow of the thousand spires my mind wandered. Perhaps now when I tell you this, you smile and say, yes, I too once knew a dreamer. He roamed the lands in search of a tale or a song to be part of, whatever happened to him I do not know. But then you do not see. For I was once Eredar, a dreamer among a people that admired the clearness of day more than the blended hues of the night, a people who rather bent reality to their will than listened to the flow of existence. Fire was a force to be mastered, not the intense presence of a suntouched day. Wind was a tool to use as you pleased, not the ethereal whispers of a will unseen. So you see, when my parents wished me the way of the Magi I was destined to displease them. Not out of spite or indifference, but simply because I didn't see the world through the eyes of my people. In time they sired a secondborn, a daughter, my sister, but only by blood. Her focus was strong and she cherished the fate I once discarded, she was the will of our parents made flesh. Ages past and soon the memory of their firstborn was but dust in the wind. I became a peripheral being, living on the edges of the City of a Thousand Spires where the wind was clearer and the endless plains rolled out under the sun.

Being one of the people the sense of all things magical was not entirely lost upon me despite my nature and I found vocation as an Enchanter. My disposition was especially suitable for releasing the inherent magicks of old artifacts into dust and essences and that is how I made my living for longer than I care to remember.

Then came the darkening and the ages of flight. Worlds settled and worlds fled, an endless cycle of hope and despair. The cosmos swam before our eyes as we made our way through the great dark guided by the Naaru. Their benevolence was immeasurable and I see that they truly are the saviors of our people, and that the light is a sacred duty. But to me they remained distant. Compassionate always, but distant. Their words a prayer that gave comfort but that you never understood.

The Priesthood arose where earlier the Magi had been the undisputed custodians of the people. Guided by Velen and the prophecy of the Army of the Light we continued our search for the place we now knew we were destined for, and thus we arrived on Draenor. Here we finally found peace. Our spires rose again, Karabor, Shattrath, Telhamat, may their names forever grace the history of our people. I was at peace on Draenor. Its lands were vast and its waters clear and my trade provided me a good station among the people. Two apprentices heeded my word, and my workmanship awarded me a modest but solid reputation among the craftsmen. The restlessness of my youth had fled and I truly believed that the age of flight was but a distant memory.

But the darkest hour was yet to come. For all the horror and madness I witnessed, one moment stands out, as clear as the day it happened. I was at the back of the refugee caravan that was headed for the marshes, and at the crest of a hill, I remember looking back, to get one last glance of the greatest of our cities before it would vanish behind the hills. They stood on the ramparts of the lower city, side by side. Vindicators in their gleaming armor, anchorites in their white robes, bastions of hope and resolve. Behind them storm clouds rolled in and thunder forked the steelblue sky. And they sang. A hymn of defiance and triumph echoed in the valley as those who exchanged their lives for our future bid us farewell. We turned our back on our city and descended into the marshes, and when the song turned into screams we were already far away.

The following years were gruesome for the people. The marshes sustained our bodies but our minds were in turmoil. What of the prophecy? What of the promises of the Naaru? Velen was gone a lot, ranging further and further from our camps, and the times he stayed with us he was reticent. Worst was the fate of those who had given their lives for our freedom. After some time survivors trickled into our camps throughout the marshes. At first they were welcomed as the heroes they were, but it was clear that an ailment beyond our understanding was corrupting their beings and soon they were shunned where ever they went. After a time they were banned, exiled from our camps. Our brightest champions had become the lowest wretches of our battered people. They had become Krokul, broken. For me that was the darkest moment of our misery. The people of magnificence and sanctity turned their back on their brethren. We changed then, or at least our understanding of ourselves did. For millennia we had been the wronged ones, the victims of tragedy. Now we were the oppressors and this realization, as much as the fear of impurity, was the reason for our distrust, our aversion of the Krokul. They forced us to acknowledge a part of ourselves that we had rather not known. Some still deny it, and claim that it was the will of the light, that if the light had abandoned the Krokul, so should we.

A form of peace slowly settled upon the remnant of our civilization. Out of the marshes Telredor took form, high atop the mushroom forest. That is where I made my home and where I tried to continue my work. But I felt empty. There was little demand for my workmanship and what material I had was of low quality. A people that is barely hanging on to existence has little need for the services I provide. For the second time in my life, I doubted my chosen path and wished I could have been of more use to my people.

Then came the day that I unknowingly had been waiting for my whole life. The skies were gray and a slow drizzle coated the world in a wet blanket. I remember hearing commotion outside my little shop and as I stepped out I saw that a crowd had gathered on the platform a few steps below and they were all staring at the most unlikely pair. At the entrance of the platform Velen stood, towering over a Krokul, its bloated arms, gaunt and elongated face and stunted tail setting it so far apart from the radiance of the prophet that it indeed looked like a different species. The pair approached the dais and to everyone's astonishment it was not Velen that spoke, but the Krokul. I vaguely remember hearing disgruntled grumbles from the crowd but what he said shattered my world and then pieced it back together in a way that suddenly made sense.

He said, "Everything that is, is alive..."

That day I became one of Nobundo's apprentices. I had always felt a closeness to the world around me and opening my mind to the spirits was easy. Where other students struggled with hearing the elemental spirits I reveled in their presence and for a time I was too enthralled to heed the lessons Nobundo gave us. I was rebuked and reapplied myself to the mastering of our chosen art, but it soon became apparent that my inability to focus ran deeper than mere excitement. Where at first I had been the most promising of Nobundo's students I lagged behind as the other disciples caught up an surpassed me. My connection with the spirits was strong, perhaps the strongest of all of the students, but I was unable to discern one from the other. If I focused on water it instantly blended with the ripples and waves the wind made on its surface, when I tried to listen to the earth the trickle of water that flowed within its bowels immediately invaded my mind. I was inconsolable. Just as I thought that I had found my calling my old weakness tore the future from my grasp. I could almost hear the admonishment of my parents, a disdainful whisper of ages past "Once a dreamer, always a dreamer".

One evening Nobundo took me aside and gave me a task that I would have to complete before I could continue my studies. He said I would have to find the purest incarnations of each element and imprint their essence on my mind. Only by having a clear impression of each element could I learn to separate them despite the multifarious nature of reality. When I asked him where I could find these elements he shook his head and gave me a solemn smile. In time perhaps it would be possible to travel the world in search of such knowledge, but for now our world was limited to these marshes. The world outside was unaware of our existence and that was the way the prophet had intended it to stay. He said that water had a strong presence there and that I should contend myself with continued efforts to grasp its individual nature. He also cautioned me not to attend further lessons with the other students since it would only augment my frustration. And thus I was left to myself. I spent my days wandering the swamps and wetlands under the mushroom canopy searching for the purity I had been asked to find. The whispers of the spirits danced in my mind but it was like listening to a thousand different tongues telling a thousand different tales and I grew no wiser for their presence. I was back where I had begun, a peripheral being on the edges of society. An oddity and by all appearances a failed one at that.

Suddenly our world expanded. Velen had summoned the people and once again we set out through the cosmos. What fate had in store for us this time was nothing less remarkable than what our past had accustomed us to and many tales could be vowen about the perils and triumphs that we experienced on Azeroth. But for me one thing takes precedence. I felt it as soon as my hooves touched this new land. The spirits of this world were strong. And so I traveled, from the caverns of Uldaman to the hights of the Storm peaks, from the depths of the Veiled Sea to the craters of the Burning Steppes and with me, sealed within my mind, I brought the essence of Earth, Wind, Water and Fire.

I now walk with the storm, lightning at my fingertips, wind in my heart and I am welcomed where once I was unwanted, respected where once I was a burden. I see the earth in a sprinkle of dust, I hear the ocean in a droplet of rain and when asked about why I chose this path I simply say,

"Everything that is, is alive..."


Why are you interested joining Light of Argus?

IC: Zaruun's journey to become an active part of the Draenei society has been long and arduous, but now as he stands at the end of his long quest for redemption and acceptance he feels it is time to engage in it fully, thus he wishes to join one of the most celebrated of its institutions, The Light of Argus.

OOC: I was there when the first meeting of what was to become the Light of Argus took place and for a few weeks I was one of its founding members. I was however deeply engaged in the Horde at the time and simply did not have the time to pursue my draenic interest. Now I find myself regretting that I missed out on the alliance storyline of Wrath and not wanting to make the same mistake in Cata I decided to return. Now I am in search of a place to call home and the first thought that crossed my mind was to see whether the cradle of my alliance experience would embrace one of its lost sons.

*applauds* Amazing! A very well written story.

Quite a long application but I love it! The part with Velen and Nobundo, amazing. And I also like the part where Nobundo takes your charracter apart.
A very lively story indeed!
Oh! I noticed you stopped by our meeting last wednesday. By the time I came back to my screen you had already left. If I was there at the time I would have spoken with you already, sorry!

One of the officers will poke you in-game.

Greets,
Senra.

Wow.. it took some time to find the chance to read this.. but what a story! Great written, well involved in the Draenei history and future. Just nothing to comment on it really.

I hope we can meet soon in-game for a chat! My personal time is limited, but Í'm sure we will find a time to talk!

Regards,
Perforad