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Aluciaspose

Alucias Edit

Race: Night Elf

Age: 357

Birthplace: Astranaar

Class: Druid

Professions: Herbalist/Alchemist

Affiliations: Ascendence

Appearance: Alucias is younger than most of his kind that set out into the world, and he normally looks it, standing about 6', and weighing around 178 lbs. His eyes glow faintly, less than other of his kind. His left arm, blasted off in a battle against a servant of C'Thun, has been replaced by the gnomes Lukka, Nilly, and Jenchenzi, with a Thorium robotic arm that he keeps hidden beneath a long loose sleeve.

Personality Edit

Alucias is a quiet man, usually only speaking if spoken to. He is polite to almost everyone, though recent events have kept him on his toes. With a new outlook on the world, and little desire to cause problems, he usually keeps to himself and those he knows, though they be only few in number. He is loyal to them, however, and will gladly risk his life to preserve theirs.


History Edit

Alucias' history is troubled. He is the son of two Highborn that became druid and sentinal after the Sundering, though he was only born in more recent times. Soon after his birth, his father, a powerful druid that spent his years studying demons and their corruptive influence, disappeared. Raised in his father's footsteps, Alucias became a devout protector of nature.

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Over time, Alucias had finished his training, and had set out into the world. His teachings and beliefs guiding him, he traveled Kalimdor, doing his part in the recovery of his people's lands. Strangely, though, no matter how hard he strived, the lands were still sick, and the creatures living in them were still tainted. This confounded him greatly, and he began to look more into the lore of demons, and the effect their corruptive influences have. His mother, who disappeared herself sometime later, warned him of his father's unknown fate, attempting to dissuade him from travelling this path. Mention of his father only spured him on, however, and he dove into his studies with a zealous drive.


Time passed, and his powers grew stronger. The more he worked to find the cause of the corruption, the closer he got, the more invigorated he felt, the more powerful! He studied and traveled, sailing to the human lands on occasion, but never staying long enough to pay attention to his surroundings. Only the influence drove him, the energy. He could smell it in the air, the wavering, rotting scent of corruption. He followed it, all the way across the world and back. Back, to Teldrassil.


He did not know precisely why or how, but his senses, his instinct led him here, to the wilds of Teldrassil, where he finally found what is was he sought. A font, a nexus of energy, a mutated and hideous plant that gave of a sickly purple light, and smelled so strongly of demonic corruption. He set himself to work immediately. His duty to remove this blight from the world.

As he worked, he found himself becoming distracted, minor things at first, then more and more disruptive occurances. Whispers in his mind, stalling him, misleading him, forcing him into tapping into energy veins. He resisted, again and again, but each time, it grew harder, as the feel of such power was addicting. Finally, he had enough. Neglecting the cost, he attempted to destroy the plant itself, thereby removing the threat of taint forver...he was mistaken.


The plant survived his attempts, and seemed to grow stronger. His mind raced, and he blacked out from the strain and exhaustion. Time passed, and his sanity was torn away. He wandered the world, a broken, twisted shell, killing, destroying, corrupting...he didn't care, all he knew was the joy of pain, and how he loved causing it. He met many during this time, and they all came to know him as a demented soul, to be watched whenever he was around. Having taken to his bestial forms, particularly that of a great nightsabre, those he encountered came to know him as the Mad Cat.


Many events transpired during the course of his insanity, revolving around a set group of individuals he took particular pleasure in tormenting. At times, they hated him, and sought his demise, at other times, they trusted him, only to be betrayed moments later. No one could truly predict what he would do, or what he was fully capable of. Only one person, a street rat sneak thief named Phinn Bennerton ever got close to him, and that ended in tragedy.


Her death drove him deeper into madness than he's ever been. He attacked at random, his mind, so far gone that it could infect the minds of others, drowning them in madness of their own. He stalked Stormwind and other locales, killing, maiming, stealing, destroying...until he finally collapsed from his own deppression. He awoke in the forests of Ashenvale, near a moonwell, a dryad watching over him. He had no memory of the past several months. He set out, against the wishes of his caretaker, and began looking for the time he lost, his mind healed, but something nagging him in the back of his thoughts...something dark, and promising power.


Something his Highborn blood would not let rest...

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