| Nhaera Darkenbough | |
|---|---|
 | |
| Vital statistics | |
| Title | {{{Title}}} |
| Gender | {{{Gender}}} |
| Race | {{{Race}}} |
| Class | {{{Class}}} |
| Age | {{{Age}}} |
| Beliefs | {{{Beliefs}}} |
| Alignment | {{{Alignment}}} |
| Affiliation | {{{Affiliation}}} |
| Occupation | {{{Occupation}}} |
| Location | {{{Location}}} |
| Status | {{{Status}}} |
| Relative(s) | {{{Relatives}}} |
Physical Traits[]
Nhaera Darkenbough is as unremarkable in appearance as any Kaldorei can be. She towers over human females at well over six feet in height yet has a fluid, almost graceful step to her walk without a hint of the awkwardness such height can often give.
Her skin is a pale, shimmering silver, a contrast to the length of emerald that she now keeps pulled into a high ponytail, away from her sharp-featured face. Through her hair she has tied many small beads, shells and feathers from the leather cord that holds the ponytail in place, all little reminders of significant people and places. She is usually seen in plain, unremarkable leathers or cloth robes, kept in slightly better condition to her previous wardrobe.
Race and Class[]
Night Elf Druid
Guild[]
Family[]
Nhaera has an elder brother, Corun, although she speaks of him rarely and sees him rarer still.
Occupation[]
Nhaera has no other occupation than to traverse and protect Kaldorei lands. In that respect, she has studied botany and some animal husbandry, though she has a deep distaste for formal studies.
Making use of her past knowledge of botany, Nhaera is now training as a herbalist. In the rare snatches of spare time that she has, she is usually found studying various maps and scrolls, or turning useless items into dust.
Background[]
An extract from the diary of Nhaera Darkenbough.
Time passes slowly when you are unused to it. When you bask in immortality, days, weeks and months are miniscule marks of measurement, hardly worth giving a second thought. Sleeping through the daylight hours and rising as the sun dipped below the horizon, I grew from an infant to what the Easterners would call an adult, though in Kaldorei terms I suppose I am still young.
...everything seems to be young, compared to the Kaldorei.
The sacrifice of our immortality brought many things. To some it was an impossible bargain, and their anger drove them far from home. Others saw it as a fair price - in destroying Archimonde we saved Azeroth from an horrific fate. Our immortality was the only currency we had. My family - or should I say the small gathering I grew with, saw it as the latter. I remember many fraught arguments, nights laced with tension and fear as the elders and wise ones debated back and forth. My brother and I, now "adults", would lay huddled under saber pelts as the dawn began to rise, holding our own blinkered discussions about the events that felt far too close for comfort.
Now I spend my days in the northern lands, aiding the fragile Alliance in their two-fronted battle. I say two-fronted, but officially it is only one; the Alliance are there to battle the Scourge, and if any Horde get caught between our blades or our arrows, so be it. We... the Winter... have alternative reasons for traveling. Of course, we wish to aid the Alliance, there is no doubt about that, but we have a score to settle with the Horde. They have drained Kaldorei blood for too long, both literally and metaphorically. We attack their camps in Ashenvale, but it feels too simple now - the seasoned fighters - the real prey - have all traveled north. We kill the grunts and peons at their Warsong camp and beyond, but the satisfaction that we will have when we gut their leaders in Northrend is too tempting to ignore. Their blood calls to us like a siren's song, pulling us north to our glory and their demise.
...that is not to say that I do not return to Kalimdor, or that I have forgotten the promise I made to protect Kaldorei lands - with my life, if need be. The druids of the Circle have an easy means of travel to Moonglade, a place I once feared but have since come to love. I write this on the shores of Lake Elune'ara, taking advantage of a days rest before I return to the frozen north. The damp air is cool and refreshing, the sunlight so clear it reflects and shimmers off the thick, lush leaves and grasses, giving the whole area a sublime green hue. It is as though Elune herself created the place to be as relaxing as possible. Perhaps she did.I am almost certain that the next time I write here, it will be in far harsher surroundings. In a way I look forward to the challenge, and accept it, as it makes me appreciate what I have now so much more.
My reluctance is lifting, and I feel new.