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[[File:Dominitarius.jpg|thumb|318px]]{{Alliance_Character_Infobox
 
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|race = Kaldorei
 
|race = Kaldorei
 
|class = Druid
 
|class = Druid
|level = 73
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|level = 80
|specialization = Balance
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|specialization = Balance/ Feral (Cat) Offspec
 
|profession1 = Alchemy (Transmute)
 
|profession1 = Alchemy (Transmute)
 
|profession2 = Herbalism
 
|profession2 = Herbalism

Revision as of 15:09, 29 June 2010

Dominitarius
Identity
Name Dominitarius Winterfall
Nickname Domini, Dom
Title Elder Druid of the Talon
Race Kaldorei
Class Druid
Level 80
Specialization Balance/ Feral (Cat) Offspec
Professions Alchemy (Transmute)
Herbalism
Armory My Armory
Appearance
Age Approx. 3700
Build Lean, but quite strong.
Height 7'2"
Weight 318 lbs.
Hair White
Eyes Blue
Current Mood Observant
Vital Information
Alignment True Neutral
Pets Velisyr, his Sabre
Family None known.
Marital Status Widowed
Birthplace Nordrassil
Current Residence Ferelas (close to the docks headed to Feathermoon Stronghold)
Motto We are but miniscule grains of sand, among the hourglass of time.
Activities
PVE Gladly.
PVP Some.
Role Playing Obviously.


Character Description

Domini would appear no different from any other Druid among his people, at first glance. His lean, but well-muscled frame is used to ages of travel and hardship, with calloused hands that grip a stave which seems to never leave his side. His attire is functional, as that of most of his people, over any regards for appearance (most of the time). When encountered outside the city, one is more likely than not to find him only in his lower kilt and bracers, lacking the use of a shirt (as most of his class tends to do). The stave he carries is nothing noteworthy, though it does appear to have been through its share of battles. When conversing with others, he makes a habit of leaning on it.


The most striking component of this Druid is his long, pale mane. The white locks reach just past the midst of his back, and are never bound. His eyes are sapphire, crystalline in their wisdom, yet kind in the face of adversity. Quiet, one is more likely to catch note of Domini among the trees, or drinking tea from a mug in a corner table, rather than being the "life of the party". He favors seclusion and quiet places rather than the hustle and bustle of the city, however he (like most) has various reasons for making the trip into civilization.


He wears no obvious jewelry, save a plain silver band on his left ring finger. Clearly a wedding band, it bears no engravements, but appears to be quite old. He is in constant companion with Velisyr, his white Sabre. The big cat is his only known companion.

Character Biography

The essence of the evening air had warmed from the chill of the winter's grip, and it appeared as if spring once more sought to lay claim to the world of Azeroth. His features were drawn, the elder eyes of the Druid settling upon the budding trees and whispering grasses tucked between them. The world was slowly recovering itself. Not only from the freeze of winter's breath, but from the assault upon it by the Lich King and his minions. The Scourge had affected them all, in ways that would never soon be forgotten, but by the same token many would never know the sacrifices others had made. The moonlight hung softly amidst the breeze, casting everything it touched in an ethereal, pale glow. It only sharpened the striking platinum of his ivory mane, interlaced with threads of silver that reflected the light ever stronger. He was in his third century of existance, and it seemed the longer he resided within the mortal coil, the more trials and trivulations he faced. The threats facing Azeroth had gotten progressively worse as time had went along. Warfare with the Orcs, then the Forsaken, the destruction of the world tree and Malfurion's retraction into the Emerald Dream. The Burning Legion's attacks on Outlands, spilling over through the Dark Portal, into the reaches of Azeroth. And now, the prodigal son of their own Alliance, corrupted by Mal'Ganis and tainted with the grips of Frostmourne. Possessed to become the embodiment of Ner'zhul, and forcing his way through the lands that others called home. Waging war on everything part of the world of the living.

His drawn features took in the world beyond his small home in the rain forests of Feralas, overlooking the border to the sea, and Feathermoon Stronghold beyond it. There was business in Darnassus to take care of, this evening. A meeting with someone he hadn't seen in a very, very long time. He'd not been back to Teldrassil, since his initial inspections alongside the Cenarion Enclave; long before the Dark Portal had spilled it's foul taint across the reaches of his allies' homelands. Across his own. Long ago, the world had been a better place. A simpler place. These days, all he faced were the legions of armored and war-torn patrons, dragging themselves into the taverns and inns in Stormwind with increasing number. The bodies carted through the city by horse-drawn carraiges, seldom-marked wooden boxes bearing the remnants of brave souls who had fallen in defense of the few strongholds of Icecrown. Of Howling Fjord, Grizzly Hills, and Storm Peaks. Of places he didn't care to venture. Carted through the front gates, they were carried off by any remaining family to be buried at home. In Goldshire, in Westfall, in Duskwood. No branch of those loyal to Varian Wrynn were spared from the toils of combat, in some form, and he was no different. Having been war-hardened by trials of fire against the Burning Legion, the pale-haired Druid found himself facing the very real threat of being sent in to assist in the final cleansing of Icecrown's remaining Scourge. The death of Arthas Menethil had been a fateful blow to the Scourge, but in the same token, had delt much of the same to his former people. The deaths of Bolvar Fordragon, and many others who had protected the Alliance during times of strife and conflict had resulted in a lessened morale of the people overall, and an increased hatred for the long-time enemy, at the behest of Varian's strong distaste for Thrall and his Horde. Garrosh Hellscream had only aided in reinforcing that anger and hate.

Smoothing the front of his leggings, he picked up the aged stave that had been his accompaniment for so many decades. The gnarled wood was crafted from one of the trees from the long-destroyed Nordrassil, and was a treasure to him, though most would only see it as an objective accessory. He wondered, sometimes, how many truly knew the value of a staff to a Druid such as himself. It was a source of empowerment for him, a connection to ways that had died long ago. Ties that no longer bound, but still clung threadbare to the soul of an old Kaldorei. He wasn't as ancient as some, that much was a given..but he was elder to most. As of recently, Fandral's summonings from Darnassus had waned on his nerves. While seeking ways to better the reputation and standing of his people, he was the strongest outspoken opposition to Tyrande's rule. At least, while Malfurion was away within the grips of his struggles within the Dream. He didn't doubt that once the ancient Druid reawakened, that there would be no more arguements within the room at the top of the Enclave. Fandral would be silenced, or he would face retribution for his words, more than likely.

Picking up the leather sachel that was a constant adornment upon his frame these days, he tucked several scrolls and reagents within it's confines, before buckling the strap that held it down. Hoisting a saddle and head armor from a natural outcropping within his simple residence, he carried it with him outside. Leather-wrapped feet, his toes and heels bare against the stone floor, kicked up small tendrils of dust as he stepped from within the doorway and out into the world beneath the canopy. Critiquing sapphire eyes traced their way across the landscape, before his lips curved against ivory teeth to resound a sharp whistle across the vast reaches of greenery. An answering roar met his ears, before his loyal companion came into view, pushing through the undergrowth. Velisyr's brilliant green eyes glowed against the darker landscape, but nothing contrasted as sharply as the Frostsaber's ghostly white coat. Padding towards the Kaldorei with massive, razor-sharp clawed paws, he rubbed his head against the Druid's stave-weilding hand, which responded with a scratch behind the ears. Once, of course, he'd managed to shove his choice of weaponry beneath the arm holding his saddle. The cat was as loyal as they came..he and his master had been through hell and back, and there hadn't been a time when Dominitarius had ever wondered about the Saber being there to back him up. He'd had Vel since he'd been born, the only white Saber in a litter of 9, just outside Auberdine. Domini had happened upon him just as they were preparing to take him onto the boat to Rut'theran Village. They'd been inseperable ever since. Vel was a fleet means of escape, a noble mount, and a pillow in the nights when he had to resort to sleeping under the stars. In exchange, the Kaldorei mended him when he was injured, kept his fur clean, and ensured he was cared for. Regardless of the fact that the cat had full range of territory as far as the eye could see. It wasn't like there was anything aside from bears and wolves around here to contest him. The occasional Ogre and Harpy, but they knew better than to mess with a cat as big as he was.

Smoothing the fur along Velisyr's broad back, he picked several burrs and pieces of grass free, before settling a blanket across the expanse. Shortly after, the realtively light-weight leather and titanium saddle followed suit, tightened by a girth around the big cat's upper belly, which in turn connected to a martingale harness across his shoulders. The whole mess held the saddle in place, and allowed the big cat to jump and run freely, without the fear of unsettling his rider. The helm was placed over his ears, and down across his face, however Domini never used a bit or reigns with the beast. Vel was smart. The cat saw things his master missed, knew things the old Druid would never have known. No, it was far better to leave his head and mouth as unencumbered as possible.

Once he'd securely fashioned the stave across his back, tucked into loops in the sachel's belt (which was connected securely to the belt around his hips), he slid aboard and gave the pale beast a pat.

"It's a long way to Darnassus, old boy. We've got a great distance to cover in a short time. Think you can handle it?"

Domini's answer came in the form of a growling sound that the big cat made often, just before he headed towards the road. The Kaldorei had only to indicate direction with a pat of either one side of his massive, well-muscled shoulders or the other, and the cat would track the direction easily with keen eyesight and near silent steps. Moving off along the deerpath that lead to the main road, Vel suddenly exploded into movement. The sheer power of the beast always surprised him, if only knowing the cat had such a gift with agility. There wasn't much he couldn't climb, or outrun. All without so much as crackling a twig against the earth. Gripping the handles on the front of the saddle's pommel, he leaned down slightly over the pale cat's neck, to shift his weight and make it easier for him to move. They'd be there in no time, for certain.

Up through the reaches of Feralas, beyond the Twin Colossals, into the wastes of Desolace. North, always north, crossing the Stonetalon Mountains, until the familiar woods of Ashenvale finally greeted his eyes. Passing through Talondeep Pass, he rested his weary mount and his own dusty feet in the inn at Astranaar, before departing in the late evening towards Maestra's Post. Hailing the Alliance forces he found there, he was waved through, to continue on into the tainted wood of Darkshore. The darkness of this place filled him with disappointment..with regret. Regrets that he hadn't done more to aid the Ancients in cleansing it's diseases, aiding the Sentinels in beating back the demons and satyr that seemed to be cropping up even now, in ever-increasing number. Vel's strides were swift, carrying himself an his master along well-travelled paths, the way lit by the ethereal glow of firefly-fed torchlamps along the sides. Across the bridge over the Wildbend River, past the Highbourne-haunted ruins of Ameth'Aran. Finally, the tell-tale architecture of Auberdine, the outpost of the Kaldorei within Darkshore, came into view among the dark and foreboding trees. Padding into the small village, Domini paused his loyal Saber at the moonwell and gathered a small vial of the Elune-blessed waters. Corking it carefully, he remounted to traverse through the Inn itself and enter out onto Mist's Edge, the tremendous pier that connected shipping lanes essentially for every location friendly to the Alliance. The massive white Saber was nudged to the right, and he settled quietly once they'd reached the edge of the wooden planks. The sea air was salty, but something he'd missed..the waters closer to Teldrassil always brought back memories. They smelled of home, of friends and family, of life and earth, all the good things he'd almost forgotten.

Vel was more than used to being on board a vessel of this size. While smaller than those which journeyed back and forth from the harbour in Stormwind to Valiance Keep in Borean Tundra, the speed at which the elvan-crafted ships travelled, more than made up for their size. Tucking the vial of holy water into the sachel at his side, he cast a contemplating look towards the steadily setting sun. Memories of the first time he'd taken this trip, so very long ago, only coming the opposite direction. Ages ago, when he was younger, just a young man only beginning his journeys through Azeroth. How much had changed since then. How very much had changed.

The gentle rocking motion of the craft among the Great Sea nearly lulled him to slumber, had Vel not shifted to stir him when he felt the grip upon the saddle slipping. Shaking his head slightly, he looked to his left and found they'd arrived, the sea breeze whispering his mane along his bared shoulders and over the high-pronounced cheekbones. Guiding Vel off the vessel, he nudged him towards the portal which would take them inside Darnassus. Inside the heart of Teldrassil.

Closing his eyes, he opened them a few moments later to stare at the backside of an Oracle tree, whose interior had been turned into the local bank. Several citizens wandered around outside it's confines, flicking through mail at the postbox, or simply socializing with one another. A few glances were sent his way, to which a nod of response was granted. The silver band, without gem or engravements (visible ones, at least), adorning his left ring finger, convinced many of them to turn their gazes elsewhere. Collecting an Azure Snapdragon from a large potted collection of them, he nudged Vel towards the entrance of the city.

The large gates leading towards Dolanaar and the Oracle Glade were silent, as they normally were. He would be alone, relatively speaking, tonight. Sliding off Vel, he granted the Saber to wander off into town, bearing his master's saddle and name adorned upon his back. He favored interactions with his own kind, and the maiden who sold his brothers and sisters would undoubtably be glad to keep an eye on him. Vel didn't make it a habit to get into things. Reaching into his sachel, he removed the corked vial of moonwell water, pouring it slowly over the flower he'd removed from the pot by the Temple. His glowing eyes cast themselves across the statue that stood guard over the graveyard, tracing his thoughts as he followed a pathway along the small, but poignant, markers. He did it every time, though there was no need. Her grave was easily identified. It was the only one that bore no flowers, no worship stones, no decoration. Just a plain grass-covered plot, with a moonglow marker at it's helm. Moving towards it with all the humility of a male who knew nothing else, he knelt quietly beside the stone. A calloused hand, seasoned with decades of digging in the earth and weilding his stave against the tides of war, found the engravements within the weathered granite.

Aylori'na Winterfall Beloved Wife, Faithful Priestess of Elune Your Light will shine for eternity, Sister.

The silver band against his skin shone with an etheral grace, a light that was odd given the moon was only just beginning to rise. Sliding the Snapdragon against the earth between the blades of grass, his eyes slipped closed. Uttering a soft stream of Darnassian, the cut end of the striking blue flower took root. Several moments after he'd touched it there, it stood on it's own when his hand moved away, and the remaining portion of the vial was used to water it.

"It has been some time since I saw you, my love. I apologize..my heart was not strong enough to bear your absence, much as it mourns you still to this day. You were taken from me too soon. There is no measure of pain or agony I could describe, which would aptly convey what I feel, even now. But you all ready know. And so, I promise you that so long as I live, I will never forget. You are in my heart, now and always, and nothing shall ever take your place. And when the time comes that I should sleep forever within the bounds of the Emerald Dream, I will join you here, now, as you are. And we shall never be apart again."

His elongated ears lowered in sadness. The tragedy of what had occured that fateful day was fresh in his mind, and had haunted his dreams and waking moments equally ever since he'd lost her. He had come, this evening of all evenings, to make his peace. To grant him the closure he had never allowed his soul to claim.

"Happy birthday, Aylori'na."

Sweeping his hand aside, the entirety of her grave plot was covered with budding Azure Snapdragons. Rich, vibrant blue. They had been her favorite flower. And since she could no longer go and find them..

He had brought them to her.

Out of Character Notes

  • Domini is Widowed. He lost his wife to an attack on the vessel carrying them to Valgarde, and she is buried in Darnassus, just inside the gates to the city. He is commonly found there.
  • This char is not open to ERP. Fade to Black is fine.
  • I do not RP with those who like to crush lore. This includes (and is not limited to): Self-proclaimed Princes/Princesses, Daughters/Sons of well-known NPC's (such as Sylvanas, Arthas, Tirion, Varian, etc), Werewolves (pending Cata), Non-San'layn Vampires, those who don't stick to Warcraft Lore (i.e. people using Naruto, GITS, Final Fantasy chars), Godmodders, Metagamers, Powergamers.