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| - Aeons ago, shortly after the destruction of the Highborne capital Zin-Azshari, few inhabitants of noble blood managed to escape the merciless clutches of the Burning Legion and Old Gods. One of these survivors of this great menace brought upon this world was Nefeli’bata, merely a child at the time; this young Highborne had predicted the doom of her entire race and set out long before the well exploded. Hiding in the darkness of caves and what was left of the demolished and tainted forest, Nefeli’bata kept to herself, growing in the solitary emptiness and grief of her fallen race. It wasn’t until days, or was it weeks, months? That Nefeli’bata met another individual in the caves that was now more or less considered her home. Too weak to move elsewhere, her only chance of survival was to remain unseen, however, this pact to herself was now broken as a man clad in robes of black entered the cave and spoke out to her. The mysterious and unknown man said to her with a tongue of silver that he was there to help her – but only if she would pledge her allegiance to him. With little else to bargain with other than her life, Nefeli’bata accepted this offer and became the servant of this black figure. Once under his command, Nefeli’bata was tasked with a plethora of things to do. Young as she was and deeming that the only way for her survival was to obey – she did what she was requested without questioning, even if the tasks were horrible. The man told her to aid him in his rituals of magic and to help in the exploration of this land – the man saying that he was far from home. In exchange for the information she gave to him, she was given food and drink to survive, along with books of forlorn knowledge to read. Soon, as time passed, Nefeli’bata would have created a relation with this man, and finally had the name revealed to her – Diathorus. Nefeli’bata and Diathorus kept holding onto eachother for a long period of time. And as time passed, Nefeli’bata grew more interested in the black arts that were revealed to her in the books. Soon – Nefeli’bata would have learned the ways of ritualism and how to perform certain spells of dark heritage, tutored by Diathorus himself. Darkness grew on her more and more – and it was no telling that this Diathorus was no mere man. Yet for the manipulated and fragile Highborne, she saw nothing but a fatherly figure, wishing the best for her. As such, she was continuously blinded and led deeper into the darkest of paths. It wouldn’t take long now before she could have been officially been called a practitioner of the art most dire. She was at one point given a very important task by her master. Diathorus had given her the assignment to supply him with souls to help him channel in his ferocious dark spell speech, and to do so he required the souls of her own – the Highborne. While the great capital of her kin had sunk into the depths of the ocean, ruins and pillars of her great kingdom remained on the borders around the well. She travelled here, with specific soulgems given to her by her master to store the still wandering and grieving souls of her race…. And she did. Soul upon soul was forcefully captured into these terrible prisons that kept them chained forever until released. Afterwards, Nefeli’bata couldn’t let go of the spiritual spectacles she had seen. The spiritual had caught her eye in one of the books that Diathorus had given her – specifically the realm of darkness… The Shadowrealm. This ghastly dominion soon grew on her to the point she became addicted with the legends and stories behind it. Fixated on its mystery, she in secret behind the back of her master began to prepare for a ritual that would trial her learned powers. She was to prepare a deathgate – one of the few passages to this realm of the dead. She read through the books and continued her studying meanwhile, and eventually, through dedication, secrecy and will, Nefeli’bata had completed the requirements for her ritual. All that it took now were the words. “Pala ah’m Ravali Ah’m… Mor Ok Angalor, An Karanir Thanagor.” The highborne uttered as she lit the purple candles on the ground with a snap of her fingers. A second after that, a terrible wind blew through the cave and took out the lights scattered across the room. In the centre of the ritual she had prepared, a shrieking sound was heard. Simultaneously, she heard her master roar in anger. Tumbling footsteps came closer and closer – but they were not heard. The shrieking, dominant sound had taken over all noise in the entire cavern and suddenly – a violent explosion that blew Nefeli’bata backwards. And as she glared with barely open eyes she saw it, the gothic elegance before her… The deathgate. Quickly on her feet again, Nefeli’bata could see the shadow of her master near from the background, and she made the decision to flee her master. Throwing her into the gate she had just summoned, it shut behind her as if it had fed enough, leaving Diathorus in the innocent nothingness he first came to years ago. Nefeli’bata was cast into the Shadowrealm brutally by the gate, landing harschly on the ground as she once again rose with knees weak. Here – she saw it for the first time… The terrible world that lied ahead and its haunted inhabitants. A menacing world, a terrible world is what she was left with. With little experience of the real world and with even lesser experience of this mythical hellhole, Nefeli’bata was battered and beaten left and right by the souls of damnation. In an endless battlefield she dwelled, lived – fought. Taking up arms against those who would fight her she eventually learned the ways of the blade. Eviscerating her foes, she slowly began to create a name for herself in this ghastly dominion. Time passed, years went by as she continued to make a name for herself in the Shadowrealm and as she grew in power – her control of the world began to show. Soon, she controlled a vast majority of souls that had pledged themselves under her new name – the Wraith of the realm. But she had enemies still. More powerful greater souls such as the Prince of Darkness and Meredith sought to exterminate all threat and thus she was one of the easier prey, instead of facing them head on, Nefeli’bata hid in the darkest shadows of the realm, remaining unseen. And this is truly where she excelled, or so she thought. Thousands of years passed as she battled back and forth with the countless greater souls of this hellish plane, never dying – never finding peace. In one particular battle against a menacing ghost of an orc warlock known as Gul’drak, she lost her souls and he defeated her, leaving her powerless and on square one once again. Instead of leaving her to build herself up once more, Gul’drak built a terrible arena where he tossed her, leaving her to battle his own souls again and again. Wave upon wave she fought, and always lost. Once again, aeons of time passed as she fought Gul’drak’s souls for his amusement. And in this black pit, she began to lose hope. She realized that she could never escape from Gul’drak and she would never find herself back into the plane of mortals and living again… What was home? What was the feel of grass? What is emotion, what is love, what is hate? The thoughts circled her, as she was defeated again. However… This was not her end. There was one who too knew of this realm, one who had been bestowed by the gift of death himself – Kel’Thuzad and his Cult of the Damned. Kel’Thuzad was dire and hungry for more power, and needed the mysterious artifacts and unholy blessings this realm could give him, and as such assigned one headmaster of his Cult to find a way into this dark and horrible place – and he did. Lord Urseloth and his Cult elite travelled into this ghastly dominion and fought their way through soul upon soul, eventually reaching the arena where Nefeli’bata was trapped. In exchange for her servitude towards these titans of destruction and death, she gave herself to them and they together destroyed Gul’drak and his souls. Once free, Nefeli’bata continued to point them towards the directions of greater magical artifacts that this world had to offer. She was their guide. Yet deep within Nefeli’bata had only one thing in mind… Their deathgate back to the living world. She managed to fool them, leading Lord Urseloth and his elite into a force led by the Prince of Darkness. As they screamed in horror and agony – as they were living and thus could die, she took hold of the artifacts they had upon them before quickly departing to reach the deathgate they had set up upon their arrival. There she was – eyeing her freedom. With one final step into the gate she vanished from this terrible world and once again flew to the ground, however, this time on Azeroth. She tried to rise once more, but failed as she slammed into the ground. Gazing upon her dirty hands – she saw that her skin had paled, her muscles had thinned and her powers had dimmed. She was no longer part of the spiritual realm – her powers from that hellhole gone. Slowly raising herself to a standing position, she eyed her artifacts of worth and got to work. Dressing herself in the shadowclad robes of the Shadowrealm, her naked pale form vanished, disguised under clothing blacker than black. Gazing around – she found herself in an utterly dark place where the sun had not set in years. In the common tongue, this was Duskwood, to her – this was unknown ground. Searching for life, she reached Darkshire eventually, where the human race had been set and abandoned by Stormwind City. This black hole of grief and sadness was an environment she could blend in well with – and thus stayed here, slowly learning the ways of the new life. Here she met with a businesswoman known as Lisa Roseburrow, a human mage who had through hard work created a triangle network between Goldshire, Lakeshire and Darkshire where she sold magical items of worth to the world. Lisa helped Nefeli’bata, teaching her the common tongue and showing her how this new world functioned. She introduced economy, and how one could sustain them with it. However, Nefeli’bata let her not be manipulated again. She was changed; a benevolent darkness was all that remained of her since she escaped the Shadowrealm. Through her dark magic she took control of Lisa Roseburrow and used her to transport stolen, unholy artifacts from tombs from Raven Hill and cemeteries of Duskwood, selling them to the world. With the coin she earned – she began to build her world beneath the soil. Creating an underworld home where she could practise her dark magic in solitude – specifically on the dead. The addicting, luring essence of necromancy had since her youth clanged to her and she could not resist it, thus – she eventually succumbed even deeper into the dark arts once again, despite all that had happened to her. Eventually, she had created a force of capable undead soldiers, and she was just about to reign terror upon the living civilization of Duskwood when her possessed, Lisa Roseburrow – was destroyed by an Argent knight, piercing through the illusion of good and taking hold of the artifacts that she sold. In anger and fury Nefeli’bata set out to Goldshire personally to deal with this Argent, however, she was allured by another presence, another individual who had caught the attention of a Highborne… Mithaniel Asen’eth. This half-elf showed her great compassion and understanding of her grieving life as he was able to decipher her lies and subtly. He promised that he could help her, make her see things more clear and offered her chance to rebuild her broken home that had haunted her memories for aeons of time. Blinded by this opportunity to see Zin-Azshari again, she accepted his offer, aiding him in the process and formation of this future kingdom; Nefeli’bata forgot her anger and instead fixated upon resurrecting something of elegance rather than something of spite and hate. Now – she works alongside Mithaniel and his allies, supplying them with the ancient knowledge of the forgotten pieces of this world.
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