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Seifar Tigerius Draconii
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The General
Basic information
Age 263
Gender Male
Race Sin'Dorei
Affiliation The Phoenix Guard
Status Alive


AppearanceEdit

BackgroundEdit

So you wish to know the story of Seifar Tigerius Draconii ‘The Red’? There are tales I could tell that would bring a tear down the side of your cheek, and others that could bring smiles to play your lips. Very few know very much at all about this man, this warrior. Those that do, believe it best kept secret for reasons that are just. Come, pull up a seat, and as the dancing flames of the fire warm our insignificant presence, I will share with you what I know.

Where better to begin, than from the beginning. Seifar was born into a family of three, his mother, his father and his dearest sister. Little from their elegant appearances did he inherit, with his thick red hair contrasting with their soft blonde locks. A black sheep amongst the flock. Rarely did he ever see his father who always seemed to be occupied by his military ties, nor his mother who would often neglect him and disappear mysteriously for days on end. His sister was his only friend, and he followed her like her shadow. Often would he spend time with her; going for walks, listening to stories in the borrowed light of the moon, helping her cook for the family; he was a loyal brother indeed. He was brought up to live as a gentleman, with gracious manners and a kind considerate mind. As his body matured Seifar began to take interest in the army of Quel’Thalas, and thus at the age of seventeen took up his first ever blade. It was the only thing his father ever game him, and it was gift that would shape the rest of his life. For months Seifar was obsessed with this sharpened length of steel, and would spend his time battling his imagination.

It was on the evening of his eighteenth age that Seifar would return home to a memory he would never forget. The day was drawing to a close and the shadow of night was creeping ever darker over the City. Young Seifar was returning from a hunt in Eversong Woods, a sack of meat slung over his shoulder and his blooded blade hanging at his side. As he came within viewing distance of his humble forest home, he noticed something most peculiar. The front door was hung open, with shadows cast from the windows flickering from the movement inside. A sharp scream was heard, and Seifar’s heart missed a beat. Instantly his hand opened and the sack of meat fell to the ground with a thud, and tearing his sword from its sheaf, Seifar sprinted in a burst of panic towards the house. However, young Draconii’s legs could not carry him fast enough, before he could make it but half way there, the silhouette of a man could be seen walking from the house, mounting, and riding off into the distance. Without a second thought of chasing the man, Seifar ran inside his house, bursting through the rooms in a state of concern, until he reached the bedroom where his sister could be seen spread across the mattress of her bed, the sheets dampened with her blood.

His eyes closed, and before he could open them again a hand touched his shoulder. Stood behind him was his father, a great shadow cast from the light of the candle hitting his armour, glaring over the horrific scene.

“What have you done Seifar…” His father muttered under his breath, as he briskly took the blooded blade from his son.

A shiver travelled up Seifar’s spine as a tear dragged itself down his cold cheek. His body stayed stubborn, refusing to move, as the boy stood in absolute shock. The silence was broken as the fathers armoured greaves thudded across the varnished wooden floor. Two fingers the man took, and drew the girls eyes shut, before lifting the neatly pressed white sheet from the end of the bed, up and over the body. Turning his head back over his shoulder, he spoke to Seifar; “Where is your mother?!” It was a tone of voice Seifar had never witnessed from his father, a fusion of anger of sorrow.

The boy’s mouth opened, his lip shuddering, but no sound came out. Young Seifar did not know what to say, blooded blade in his father’s hand, and a bloody scene before him. A match that his father made too carelessly.

“Go… and never come back.” The last thing his father ever said to him and the words Seifar never forgot.

Seifar had nowhere to go, no warm home to return to at night, no dinner to be waiting on the table at the end of a long day. He saw no purpose to his life, other than to better his skills in fighting, and even that seemed a talent wasted. Thus, as the time came where Seifar was old enough to join the army of Quel’Thalas, he did so. Through-out his time within the army, many of the men looked to Seifar with a sense of awe and respect. He was always a very commanding figure, and thus was recognised as so with the rank of Captain.

The time came when Captain Draconii was called upon to serve his first war, the Second War. Leading his most loyal troops, Seifar took to the call of battle without hesitation, fighting along side the humans and dwarfs. It was a war that brought many scars to Seifar’s physique, but in turn much experience, that served him well in the coming war. Years passed, and Seifar’s skills developed even further, his skill with the blade honed to the best of his abilities. Skills in which he would need if he were to ever stand against the scourge in the Third War.

“Captain, the general will wait no longer, the battle is about to commence”, a high elf spoke towards Draconii, as he knelt washing his blade down. “For my blade to cleanse, itself must be clean, lieutenant. Ready the men.” Seifar spoke back over his shoulder, as the lieutenant saluted without response, before leaving the tent.

Drawing back the curtain of the entrance to the tent, Seifar gazed out upon his men. Standing firm in suppression of their fear, they looked a disciplined force to say the least. Clamping his helmet over his head, the Captain arose from his tent. Immediately the men drew themselves to attention, their shining armour catching the glint of the sun that would soon settle in the mist of the battle.

“At ease men…” The Captain spoke, as he began to pace slowly in front of them. “Look before you, what do you see? You see Quel’Thelas! Our kingdom and our home! Now, look beyond what you see! Look to those who wish to take it from us!” Seifar spat the words, as his men listened intently, their gaze shadowing his words, glancing first through the forest, then to the battle ahead. “Will you let them take that?! Or will we together! The High Elven army of Quel’Thelas defeat this wretched foe! And send them to the grave that they belong in! It is now! We charge! We fight! For the glory of Quel’Thelas!” And on that final sentence, Captain Draconii gave the word for his men to advance. Valiantly, they took up their swords and charged along side the other units of the army towards the enemy which stood before them.

In the blink of an eye, impact was made. The two armies clashed in a horrific moment, the sound of metals meeting rattling across the stretches of Quel’Thelas. Drawing his blade up above his head, Seifar swept it down across the bone structured chest of an undead soldier, shattering the bones apart with a vicious snarl.

“Hold the formation!” Seifar yelled back to his unit, as they struggled to keep themselves together, many already dead. As he turned back a mace flew for his face, and lifting his shield Draconii defended from it, and tackled the fleshed skeleton to the ground with his shoulder. Cutting his way through the undead ranks, Seifar managed to lose his men, and found himself surrounded. With a swift stomp, Seifar threw his blade into the air and cast his palm outwards, emitting a magical aura around him, which sent the ground cracking and bursting with light. Catching his blade he leapt backwards, as the nearby undead fell. Clearly the Captain was losing men, and had to regroup them.

In the chaos of the battle he drew from his side a horn to which he blew, before tearing a banner from the ground in his shield hand, and waving it above his head as he moved backwards, the flag of Quel’Thelas army flattering elegantly but torn, amongst the disastrous scene. It was not long before he was once more side by side with his men, and reformed ready to collide with the enemy once more. Turning back towards his men, Seifar prepared to give the command to charge once more, when his eye was caught by a large explosion of magic travelling towards them. His eyes widened as he drew his shield and dived for safety, but there was no armour that would save him. He was blown several meters back into a river, and rendered unconscious.

Slowly, Seifar’s eyes drew open as a curtain of light shed between the cover of the trees, shining down upon the glinting water of the river. With a groan, Draconii conjured the strength to lean up and gaze about him. He had travelled some distance down the river, and was sloped upon a bank. No idea did the Captain have as to what had happened, or how long he had been out, all he knew was that he wasn’t dead and that was a start. However, Seifar was feeling strangely weak, perhaps even ill. It was almost as if something inside of him was missing. Immediately Seifar thought that he could have perhaps been delirious, and cupped water in his hands before throwing it over his face. Darting his eyes around, Seifar climbed the bank of the river. Gazing across the Eversong Woods the products of the war could clearly be seen. A great path of death travelling to the walls of the city from the edges of the forest. The out come of the battle was something he had only been expecting.

Making his way back to the city, Seifar’s shoulder hung weighted, almost as if dragging him down, as he struggled to walk. Tripping over the dead bodies in his half conscious state, Seifar resisted the urge to stare down into the penetrating gazes of the dead, as he knew those that he once fought with, would be among those at his feet.

It took a while for Seifar to realise what had happened, and come to terms with the destructions of the Sunwell, but he continued to live his life within the ruined city, suffering from the withdrawal of magic.

It was not long before Prince Kael’thas returned, and reformed the elves as the Sin’Dorei. Sadly, Seifar was not amongst those that were strong enough to return to battle and thus was left to linger in the city until a cure was found.

When word returned of this new paradise, the former Captain was eager to join his Prince. In time, Seifar grew back in strength through the aid of the demonic crystals, and was soon ready to fight again.

After the forming of the Blood Knights, Draconii was quick to be inducted into their order, and was taught the powers of light. After being trained in these new ways of light magic, Seifar’s veteran position was recognised by the Knights and he was granted a position of authority once more. In short time, Seifar had constructed a squad of loyal men and they had been delegated their first task. They were to venture to the Eastern Plaguelands and report their findings, a dangerous mission. That night they gathered their belongings and set off, thirteen of them including the Draconii, only two of them were to ever return.

After several hours of travelling, the Knights grew tired and weak and thus Seifar called them into a near by village, on the edge of the Ghostlands. The Sin’Dorei occupants welcomed the Knights, offered them food and gave them drink. The village was small, fifteen people at most, men, children and women. Question came to Seifar’s mind, as to why these people were living here and not within the city.

That night, as the Knights spent their time dampening their minds with alcohol, Seifar sat quietly in his tent making amendments to his armour. It was in that tent, he couldn’t help but over hear a conversation, a conversation sometimes he wishes he would have never heard. It was the magister of the village, exchanging words with his wife. Drawn by his curiosity, Seifar rested his shield onto the ground and crept slowly to the side of the magisters’s tent, as the light from inside cast the two Sin’Dorei’s shadows onto the walls. They spoke of treason to Kael’thas, how they were disgusted in their Prince for abandoning them, and how they could not bare to live with people who served under him. The magister had intentions of converting more people against the Prince, to start a revolution! Furious, Seifar slung his blade from his side and in one swift motion cut the wall of the tent open, making way for his entrance. Stepping into the tent Seifar snarled as he cut his blade across the chest of the magister, and smashed the woman to the ground with his ironed fist. Over come by his temper, the Blood Knight Commander held the sword high above his head and struck it down towards the downed man. Already the Knights had flooded around the Commander, and one drew his blade in defence of Seifar’s, parrying the strike from the magister.

“Commander! What are you doing?!” He shouted hesitatingly, as a fearsome look crept across Draconii’s face.

“Get out of my way! These people are traitors to our Prince! Kill them! Kill them all!” Seifar commanded blindly, without conform from his men. “I said get out of my way!” The commander repeated, as the frightened Knight refused to. “Stand down Knight! Or I will cut you down!” Clearly by now Seifar was enraged, and was rolling his grip constantly over his hilt. With one more refusal, the Knight was struck down by Seifar’s blade, with an impaling lunge into his chest. Twirling around, Seifar was met by the drunken swing of a blade from one of his men, to which he parried and kneed the man down. Striking from behind, one of the other Knights tore a gash across Seifar’s leg, before being slashed across the throat as Seifar span to his direction. Gasping in pain from the clean cut across his thigh, Seifar stumbled forwards to defend from another slash, as he followed it through with an impaling strike through the Knights heart.

Seifar was injured, and there were still nine left, one downed. Those who were brave enough to combat Seifar had fallen, and the others were discouraged by this. Storming off to one side, Seifar struck his blade down through the magister on the ground, before tearing it out leaving a fountain of blood trickling down his chest. Immediately one of the Knights ran towards Seifar with his blade drawn high above his head. Swinging the flat of his blade down, the Commander swept it across the un-armoured chest of the Knight and sent him flipping onto his back, before tearing his sword down into the chest of the man. In horror, the citizens of the village had begun to gather around the scenes mothers holding their hands over children’s eyes, and men standing terrified.

Ripping his blade from the Knight’s chest, Seifar stood tall with his shoulders drawn back, panting heavily. Turning his head back over his shoulder, he gave the citizens a cold look. Turning briskly, he began to walk towards them, his shoulders swaying in his injured limp. Uncertain, the remaining seven of the Knights stood in Seifar’s way, hoping to stop him in his tracks. Their attempts however were pathetic, as the Knight Commander barged his way through them with little intervention. As the citizens began to run Seifar chased them, cutting them down as he caught them, few escaping. In the mean time, one of the Knights had slipped into the shadows of the forests, and made quest back towards the city. The remaining Knights tried to chase Seifar, but in their drunken state struggled not to trip and stumble every other step.

After cutting down all those that he could reach, Seifar walked back towards the Knights, breathing heavily. All of them took forth their blades, and made a final charge together. Tripping one of them as they came, Draconii slashed across the back of the man who flew through the air, before parrying a blow from another and cutting their head clean off. Suddenly Seifar let forth a large growl, as a blade tore across his chest, which he soon responded in kind.

The Knights now lay dead and Seifar left in a bloody state. All the Knights… except one. In his blinded fury Seifar was unaware of the absent Knight, and began his journey back to the City.

Upon returning to Silvermoon, he was met by the guards already waiting to arrest him. The escaped Knight who was stood behind them, flailed his allegations and demanded that he be taken away and that he was possessed by a fit of insanity.

However, before the Guards could arrest Seifar, they were interrupted by a lady.

Tari Elensar, a powerful noble, claimed Seifar’s life belonged to her, that he was her servant. Respecting the wishes of the nobles, the guards left, knowing that one day Seifar would slip up again, and he would be theirs for the taking. It was shortly after this time that he was appointed as the Commander of the Guards of Elensar, and made Lady Tari’s right hand man. During this period of service to Lady Tari, Seifar was privy to numerous missions above and beyond that of the normal guard. On one such mission he was informed of the reappearance of an old political rival of Tari. As per orders he journeyed through Eversong to the location of the suspected sighting.

Upon arriving he found the remnants of an old burnt out manor, which may have once been grand but was left as little but a desiccated husk. Traversing the rubble he stumbled upon several charred skeletons, it looked like the previous occupants were long dead. The sound of muttering and cursing drifted to his position from deeper within the ruins, crossing swiftly to the sound he discovered a man, undoubtedly one of the wretched gibbering and clawing among the wreckage. Reacting on instinct he drew his blade, before the former Blood Elf could even turn he brought it down upon its back, laying it to the ground.

“Who were you?!” Seifar glared down at the twisted creature menacingly. “Speak or die!”

Raising his blade once more the Wretched emitted a terrified squeal and began to babble “Tyrus! Tyrus Sunwind! Don’t harm me!” The thing kept this tact of speech till Seifar raised his blade once more.

“Where is this place? Why do you defile it with your presence!” Seifar pressed the tip of his sword against the Wretch’s chest, emphasising its plight.

“It was my home once…I had a family…power…She ruined it! She had to ruin it” Gesticulating over to his left, Seifar noticed the charred skeleton of a woman, the bones blackened and cracked.

“And how did she do that?” Seifar loaded his voice with menace, hate flashing in his eyes for the thing before him.

“My wife, she cheated me! She slept with another elf, bore his children! But I put paid to her…Killed her I did…My eldest son tried to stop me, I knew he knew as well! They all knew and were plotting against me! I killed them all though, and burnt them, now this is all that is left. Dear Shalya…It is the price paid for betrayal.” Seifar noted he addressed the skeleton as if it still lived and breathed, though of more note was the name…Shalya…The name of his own mother, a slight look of unease entered Seifars eyes.

“Who was the elf she consorted with?” His voice had a slight hint of a quiver in it as he spoke. The wretched elf shrugged, giggling like a naughty child.

“Some lower born, Draconii his name was…I got his Daughter though, but never found him…Never got him…” Seifar reeled back. This half crazed wretched had been the one responsible for the death of his sister, and his mother, the crimes he had been falsely accused of. “I missed some though, couldn’t catch ‘em fast enough…My youngest sons, all betrayers…Kaeimar was his name, a little brat and no mistake…Cant remember the other, all scum though” Seifar’s eyes narrowed. Kaeimar was a familiar name to him, a sergeant in the Silvermoon army during the war with the scourge. He also seemed to recall his name at the temple of the Blood Knights. Coming back to the present he saw the giggling wretched playing with the skull of his late mother. A black rage subsumed him, and when he recovered the wretched lay hewn to pieces, a look of shock frozen on its face.

Upon arriving at Silvermoon and informing Tari of what had taken place, though deliberately leaving some points unmentioned, he began to search for traces of this ‘Kaeimar’. It was not a long search. Two days in, he found the elf, his supposedly half brother, pouring through ancient tomes in the ancient library of Silvermoon. Some features looked familiar. His hair was the same hue of his mothers, and several features of his face looked strikingly familiar. Approaching the elf, he spoke, hiding the hesitancy in his voice

“You there? Kaeimar is it?”

The elf turned keen eyed toward him, a slight look of bemusement on his face “Yes, and you are?” Seifar waited a singular moment before starting to speak, telling this complete stranger what he had discovered at the manor ruins. The other elf’s face went from confusion, to amusement to horror. Slowly getting to his feet he stared at Seifar, a strange and incalculable look in his features. “If what you say is true, then you have done a service to me for putting him to death, It is nothing more than he deserved!” Seifar looked the elf down, he knew all too well what the elf had suffered, and what the revelation had done to him. He also saw potential in him, following on from that thought Seifar spoke up once more.

“Tell me…What do you know of the guards of Elensar?…–Brother-” As it was, Kaeimar too began service to lady Elensar, an uneasy friendship forming between the two half brothers. Returning to Lady Tari with the new recruit in tow, Seifar resumed command at her side.

Over the time Elensar and Draconii spent together, Seifar’s respect grew and grew for the lady, and their relationship strengthened, but as time went on, the Lady began to neglect her Guard and the deeds they did for her. Furious by this, Seifar demanded she paid more attention and gratitude to her loyal subjects. Tari was not the same lady she was when Seifar had began serving her. It was since that she had been studying the dark arts under the manipulation of a Warlock, and her previous light powers imprisoned in an orb.

Seifar refused to serve the lady that Tari had become, and thus abandoned her. The Guards soon realised it was not Elensar they were loyal to, but Seifar, and followed in his awakening and resigned from her service. He became known to his men as ‘The General’, but even with such a title, he was still in a dangerous position. He could not stay within the walls of the city, for he knew the Knights would come for him. So he fled, fled to the cover and sanctuary of the Eversong Woods he knew so well, where his men followed.

Rumour reached Seifar’s ear of the Warlock who was manipulating Tari, who went by the name of Lintsair. Unnerved by the fact Tari was in danger, Seifar travelled back into the city with those who were still loyal to him, and set out to find this Warlock. Many occasions did he come across Lintsair and his cult, but the cunning Warlock always seemed to escape just when he was within grasping distance. However, one time the Warlock wasn’t so lucky. Seifar and his companions were tipped off as to where they could find Lintsair’s cult, in the basement of a building on Murder Row. It is there that they met their final battle with the Warlock. After much combat, the battle was drawn to a lock, where neither side had advantage over the other. Fortunate for ‘The General’ the Phoenix Guard came In the nick of time, and took away the criminal.

Later that eve, Seifar met with the lady Tari at the lake outside the city, where she spoke of how she forgives him for his actions, and wishes that he too would forgive her. In turn they agreed to forget what had happened, and as a gift, Tari granted her orb of power to Seifar. She had given up her powers, forever.

Seifar never saw the lady Tari again, and returned to his exile in the Eversong Woods.

From there Seifar met new people, Loziander the White, X, Aramilias and many more. Befriending them, and mistakenly confiding in one of them. Loziander was a man who Seifar thought he knew who was soon to become his worst enemy. It was one day Seifar decided to open out to Loziander, that he told him the secrets of his past, the story of the village, unknowing that Loziander would use it for his benefit. Being the twisted man he is, Loziander demanded Seifar paid him not to tell, but Seifar had no money to give. Instead, he saw the only thing he could do were to fight him. Many times Seifar would get the better of Loziander, but for some strange reason always, showed mercy. He hoped that sooner or later Loziander would realise the dishonour he was creating for himself, and would learn from his mistakes, but this was never the case. The tension grew and grew between the two, until something happened that would end their fighting, Lyzette.

Lyzette was the daughter of Loziander Zanarath, young, beautiful and innocent, prisoner to her strict father. Secretly Draconii and the lady began to see one another, and eventually as time passed their love grew. Unfortunately the secret was not kept for long. Word soon passed to Loziander’s ear, and he forbade them to see each other, even arranged her to be wedded to another man.

In the time they were apart, Seifar was contacted by a lady known as ‘Commander Lydeck’ and was requested to join a new formed regiment of the Horde, Catharsis. Realising that this would grant him once more freedom, Draconii was quick to accept the proposal and assumed the position of General. Despite his military ties, Seifar still continued to see his love, until finally Loziander realised he could not keep them apart, and accepted the fate that they had together. The wedding was arranged between the two, Seifar and Lyzette, but the rings never touched their fingers. Before the wedding could happen, General Draconii was called upon to fight in Kalimdor against the forces of the alliance. After some time General Draconii was called to Ashenvale and separated from his regiment, where he fought for many months to come.

As he returned one eve from a reconnaissance patrol, he was notified of the disbanding of the Catharsis regiment and was relieved of his duties. Upon returning to Silvermoon, Seifar found his fiancé and the Zanaraths to be gone. Ever since he has spent his time avoiding attention, lurking in the shadows of Silvermoon awaiting word of his loved one and his sword at the ready, should it ever be called upon to fight once more.

PersonalityEdit

See alsoEdit

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