Fylariea Talvethren

"'In Mac'aree, there lived a man, a man with yellow eyes." "To me he said; 'ware the whispers, for they whisper lies.'" " 'Do not wrestle with the demons of the dark, lest upon your mind they place a mark.'" " 'Do not listen to the shadows of the deep, else they haunt you even when you sleep.''"

History and Background
"'The Talvethren household was strange; Gaerolas Talvethen was a secretive man at the best of times. And yet, one day, he has a girl with him, who he introduced as his daughter. Yet, he was never mated, and I've delivered every child in Nighthaven - she was not one of them.'""-Ere'lara Swiftmoon, Nighthaven midwife"

Birth and Early Childhood: A Tradgedy in Vitro
Born to a small household in the Night Elven city of Nighthaven, in the Moonglade, Fylariea Talvethren was one of the last Kaldorei children of her generation to be born outside of the great tree of Teldrassil, the Kaldorei's newest creation. Her sire, Gaerolas Talvethren, lost his mate during the painful process of her birth. To this day, Fyl's mother has yet to be named in record or by witnesses.

Perhaps due to the trauma of the time, not many records were kept that documented this time, besides the vague census counts that Darnassus conducted bi-annually. With such a large city as Nighthaven was, there were very few witnesses to Fyl's birth and fewer who knew her or her father in person. Of those who did, most described the entire family unit as aloof and distant, with an air of professionalism around everything that went on. Gaerolas became a cold, unfeeling machine. It wasn't long before he petitioned the Cenarion Circle and requested reassignment to the newly grown hometree; in an attempt to breathe life into the emotionally 'dead' family, the request was approved. In mid-August, the Talvethren household packed up their most personal belongings and moved into the newly settled village of Starbreeze, taking up residence there.

Starbreeze: The Sanctuary
"'Fyl was always the introverted kid - (she) never really seemed to like 'people' much. She spent all night in the woods, or thinking up pranks to pull on unsuspecting villagers...'""-Serana Shadowmoon, Shadowglen Attendee and previous resident of Starbreeze."When Gaerolas and Fylariea arrived in the budding village of Starbreeze, with the latter being around only six or seven at the time, the community there welcomed them with open arms. Gaerolas immersed himself in his work as the Grand Warden of the Bane'thil Barrow Dens, while his daughter took on a more communal raising then her prior, private parentage had been. It took a while for her to warm up to the villagers, but after a time she became the epitome of what an elven woman 'should have been' - bubbly, kind, and generally positive. In contrast to this, though, she spent much of her time out in the wilds, exploring the new landscape and abusing her freedom.

As she grew, she exhibited more and more 'rebellious' traits, quickly becoming less of a model girl in favor of the fine arts of mischief and intellect. The moment she became literate, she fell in love with books - and she read, read at every opportunity. Rare was it to spot her without a lengthy tome under-arm or a hefty scroll in-hand.

Though her father often kept to himself in their sizable dwelling in the village, he seemed to brighten as the years passed - never becoming truly amiable beyond what business demanded of him with the other villagers, but decidedly brightening up whenever Fylariea was around. Oftentimes, people overheard him refer to his daughter with affectionate nicknames such as 'little lamp' and 'small fawn' in Darnassian. Fyl herself adored her father, keeping by his side whenever he was on leave at all times. He was absent for months at a time - and she well made up for that time apart by being present to support her father, always. Meanwhile, with everyone else, she rapidly grew from the tiny tot into the troublesome teen. Pranks became common, and her thoughts rapidly radicalized, leaving her with more then a few controversial and untraditional opinions. Though never directly punished, these opinions were heavily discouraged and stifled - which made her fight for them all the more, perhaps out of some sort of childish stubbornness.

This behavioral pattern only continued as she aged. Some loved her, and some hated her, but the vast majority began to see her simply as an object in existence. In truth, she was just growing into another elf, completing the ever-lengthy circle of birth, life and death. That changed with a single fateful night. On the eve of the twenty-first of November, the Gnarlpine spontaneously invaded the village, catching all of the villagers completely off guard. For years, the Gnarlpine had coexisted with the Kaldorei in peace; they traded things the Kaldorei felt too primitive to attend to massively enough to feed the entire village, such as raw fish and gutted animals. Diplomacy had never been less then impeccable with the bear people - combat with the elves was unheard of.

As it happened, Gaerolas Talvethren was home with his daughter the evening of the attack. He was one of the first to rush to the village's defense, along with the scant sentinels that lived there. He hid his daughter in one of his alchemical alcoves before he left, making sure to give his final order for her to stay put, no matter what, until he returned. He never returned for her. And indeed, none of the villagers came to retrieve her. Not that, of course, they would have realized what Gaerolas had done or where Fyl had gone even if if they'd been alive to ponder it.

The entire village of Starbreeze was exterminated systematically that night. The only survivor was the girl in the cupboard, who only survived because she obeyed her father's final order. Left there for a day and a half, she had no sustenance or entertainment; and indeed, it is a nigh-miracle that Fyl did not try to eat one of the alchemical ingredients that surrounded her, or drink from one of the potion bottles she was shoved against. Had she done so, perhaps her story would have tragically ended there.

It did not.

Shadowglen: The New(er) Home
"'Thero'shan Talvethren was, without a doubt, probably the most literarily astute student we'd ever taught. She devoured her studies... (with) abandon, and she was perhaps the best spellcaster we'd ever met. Had the Shen'dralar been accepted back into our society at the time of her training, she would have undoubtedly been a mage... but alas, they were not, and she was instead inducted into druidism. Many have considered that a mistake.'""-Erethor Ithalaine, Shan'do of Shadowglen."The wait that Fyl endured in the cupboard she was hidden in is undeniably described as 'hellish'. Stuck in one postion in a cramped place for a day and then some, she dared not move and make noise that might draw Gnarlpine attention, she was left without space to stretch, much less food or water to sate her hunger with.

Her savior came in the form of another druid - one of her father's friends in Dolanaar acquired the aid of an adventurer to go check on her father, as he failed to return to his duties at the Bane'thil Barrow Dens. The heroic feral fought their way through the Gnarlpine, and managed to sniff the spoilt form of Fyl out. When discovered, she was briefly questioned before she was escorted to the Shadowglen, taking refuge from the horrors in a place of safety and training.

The druid soon left her in the care of her first-ever Shan'do - Erethor Ithalaine, an elf responsible for training many of the brightest young elves of the century. The Shan'dos of Shadowglen originally objected to Fylariea's prescence and attempted to put her up for an adoptive custody system, but when that failed she was slowly integrated into the educational system. What was for some a university became her home, and Ithalaine was as close to a 'foster parent' as she had.

Through him, she was inducted into the ways of druidism. Her progress was abnormal and spontaneous - she seemed to devour books in single nights, often surrounded by the overpowering berry-scent of arcane and a hint of sand. Most simply wrote it off as her natural scent, though some were slightly suspicious. None really investigated it further, though.

A scant decade or so passed in Shadowglen, the days and months and years blending together into a single, uninterrupted stream of study. Fyl gave herself completely to her books and to her duties; she took in knowledge with an eagerness almost unprecedented. After a long while, her skills were toned enough to be classified - she eventually failed out of her physical shapeshifting studies, but in spellcasting and magical theory (among other logical studies) she excelled. Linguistics was always an interest, as were the stars and astronomic phenomena - when her Rite of Passage came and it was time for her to choose a path to follow, she chose the totem of the Moon. With that done, she was officially graduated from Shadowglen, and sent out into the world to find herself.

Kalimdor: ADHD Child's Playground
"'We tried to get Fylariea to sign on with a respectable profession... the Sentinels were recruiting in the face of the Legion's newest threat, after all, or she could have gone to aid the druids in the Dreamgrove. But no... she chose -mercenary work-. Why? I don't know. Maybe she wanted the freedom?'""-Kyndillea Moonsong, Fyl's friend/peer"With Fylariea's remarkable intellect and skill in linguistics, one would expect her to go and obtain a job suitable for one of her talents - perhaps scribework, or some other literary profession. Inscription, enchanting... but no. Instead, she took up the title of... mercenary.

Freedom was liberating - for a short-lived spurt, anyway. She quickly lost much of her motivation and interest in doing her work, and frequently strayed from her contracts to explore her own interests (which fluctuated enough to be whatever caught her eye at the time.)

Her clientèle quickly learned to set decided boundaries on her contracts, lest she lose interest and stray from the task. With that added into place, she began to bring in livable coin. Nothing rich or overly zealous, but enough that she was able to afford rent at an inn and, eventually, afford her own modest flat within the confines of the elven capital.

She garnered a smallish circle of friends during this time, mostly consisting of the variuos clientelle she had helped in the beginning. They helped her by serving as references for various mercenary jobs she took over time.

On the side, she took some odd jobs to work with animals and animal life. First, she practiced her affinities for charming animals; then, she made some odd coin from first training small pets for pet battles and then eventually larger sums from aiding hunters. It was not uncommon to find her during her off hours with stellar charms wafting about her as she kept some unruly beast in a more impressionable state for local hunters of the time.

Darkshore and Teldrassil were her primary focuses for contracts, rarely straying outside those territories. Eventually, though, as is her childish wont, she began to tire of the purple trees and chaotic order of the wilds in their purest form. Turning her focus east, she began to study of the cultures of the Alliance; in particular, those of humans. A few months, and she signed aboard a vessel known as The Bravery. Not long passed before they set off, carrying their cargo (and more importantly, passengers) to the great capital of the Alliance: Stormwind City.

Stormwind City: The City of Vice and Sin
"'Oh, Elune. Stormwind. Well, at least it's not Goldshire, am I right, lads?'""-Fylariea Talvethren"Fylariea's journey to Stormwind took a good four months - a fast journey, truth be told, as weather conditions near the Maelstrom can change how long it takes to get to the Eastern Kingdoms.

When finally she set foot upon the pier for the first time, it only took a single breath and look around to fall in love with this new vista. The human city was fascinating - here was a different approach to handling nature. Here, everything was ordered with cut stones, with nature struggling to regain what it had lost and failing.

She spent her first few nights essentially homeless before she found a proper inn - not that she minded. Sleeping out in the 'wilds' had never felt safer - even outside the walls, the stone was an oddly comforting presence.

Immediately after her arrival, she set about finding work in Stormwind to bolster her dwindling funds - mercenary work is and was still plentiful, and a group known as the Freemen of Azeroth happily took her in. She rose through their ranks at an almost unbelievable rate, obtaining an officership position within the first few weeks with the company. It seemed like a dream come true - until she realized she was doing all of the work for the leadership, and not receiving her due. Confronting the leadership about this led to her expulsion from the company - starting a long chain of similar events.

The very next group she signed up with was a group known only to the general public as the Dragon's Candle. For months, Fylariea simply disappeared from history - her friends knew naught where she'd gone, only noting her abscence. When she returned, a new 'friend' in tow, she seemed notably a completely different person. It's hard to say what happened to her within their ranks, but it's known she left not long after returning to Stormwind.

The Mage Quarter became her sanctuary; she wandered it for weeks on end. Many friends were made within the confines of the district, as well as enemies - yet, she still managed to stay under the radar of the general public whilst she pursued her own endeavors.

The Silver Rose Alliance, Kal Thalah, the Anu Zin, even the Kaldorei Initiative themselves - among others, there was a long list of repeated organizational failure and banishment. Frustrated, Fylariea eventually formed her own group known as the Starbreeze Renaissance. Unfortunately, it seemed none truly wished to help her regain and rebuild the lands she'd lost to the Gnarlpine so long ago, and she was forced to admit defeat, disbanding the group a scant month or so after she'd made it.

She finally found her refuge, though it took far longer then she'd hoped; the noble organization of Kalnor'anaar took her under their wing. Lady E'nyssea had been watching Fyl from afar, as is her wont, and when she became available approached her with a tentative job offer. Though put off by the Highborne's snotty attitude and the egotists that surrounded her, she reluctantly accepted.

This occupation only lasted her a few months, and it was reapplied to after she briefly left to make her own fortunes (Promptly followed by failure.) Her nomadic organization hopping was prelavent in her lifestyle.

The Second War Against the Emerald Nightmare
"'The Emerald Nightmare is a cancer on the purity of the Dream. It is everything we as mortals fight against, every living moment. It is our torment, our stress and agony. It is corruption, in purest form... fel in the sense that it feeds off the suffering of sentient life. We will purge it, or be purged.'""-Archdruid Isoraen Nightstar, to the Druids of the Dreamgrove before embarking into the Nightmare proper."As most druids were at the beginning of the latest invasion of the Burning Legion, Fylariea was called into service by the druids of the Dreamgrove, doing her part in the long and arduous campaign against the Emerald Nightmare. She took up studying the mysteries of astromancy further under the Archdruid of the Moon, Isoraen Nightstar, eventually idolizing the sect so much that she herself became a traditional Druidess of the Moon, adopting the uniform and the signature scythes they loved so much.

Fylariea's command of astral magic was enough to rival those who had studied the art for years; however, she was not content with the clear-cut, simple spells like sunfire and moonfire. She made sure to put her own spin on each spell she learned, exploring it's capabilities and combinations throughly. Time does not properly pass in the Dream, where most of the war was being waged; she was capable of revolutionizing and mastering her arsenal of spells to leverage against the crimson of the Nightmare by the time she returned to Azeroth. While it was only a few months, to an outsider who had not stepped foot in the Dream, in the timeless hold of that verdant realm there is no way to know for sure how long percieved time was stretched. What is known is when Fylariea returned, she returned with exponentially increased power and multifold understanding of the nature of magic as a whole.

She lays claim to the slaying of countless creatures, including, at her apex, helping purge the Emerald Dreamway of the Nightmare spread by the dragon Ysondre and her nightmare kin. While others focused instead on purging Mulgore, or going into the Rift of Aln, Fylariea and her assosciated druidkin were focused on slaying the mighty wyrms and purging the Dreamway of corruption. While Fylariea never stepped foot in the Rift, and was only a piece of a larger whole, it is undeniable that the death of Ysondre, at least, had reasonable credence to be attributed to Fylariea and her wild magic.

There was a saying about Fylariea, during this time; 'The first thing you notice about the Shade of the Wilds is that she appears innocent, carefree. For the enemies of life, it may also be their last.' Fearmongerers whispered of what they had seen her do, and warned against what she might become. As it stood, however, she was a fine, druidic prodigy, and such warnings never held much credence.

She went on to combat the Burning Legion, first on Azeroth before finally following many of her order to the twisted lands of Argus itself, combating the horrors of the Legion -- and the ever-lurking Void -- while learning more about the nature of her magic, and even exploring the mysteries of the stars, close enough to touch...

She never stepped foot on the charred frame of mighty Antorus, but she felt Eonar's cosmic call to all for aid at Elunaria. While incapable of helping directly, she one day hopes to follow the cosmic beacon and visit the home of the Lifebinder.

After returning home to Stormwind, she looked forward to an unprecedented period of peace and cooperation between the Horde and Alliance, seeking the defeat of the Legion, perhaps foolishly, as the start of a new era, a golden era that she had, in her narcissism, viewed to have helped create.

What came to pass was no victory.

The War of Thorns and Subsequent Battles
"'They will burn. They will -all- burn. We will reap their bodies and stack them into a cairn to rival the World Tree. And then, and ONLY THEN, will we set it alight, to put the Horde to its' foul rest.'""-Fylariea Talvethren, in response to Teldrassil and in rage."In the time between the end of the Legion and the Battle for Wildbend River, Fylariea explored herself further, learning more about how she related to her magic and cataloging her desires more clearly, as well as settling down into a relatively stable lifestyle. Eventually, she parted ways with the mysterious phases of the Moon and instead found her love closer to home -- in worship of the heavens, yes, but she had always been looking -through- what she loved. What she loved, perhaps more then anything else, was the sky.

She relished the freedom the sky brought her, and every moment she flew under the star-spangled heavens was a blessing to be savored. Eventually, her love for the open air drew her to Skycaller Faeb, who was setting out on her long journey to teach other druids the form of the Lunarwing Owl, which Archdruid Rensar Greathoof had previously mastered. She was a part of the second wave to bond successfully with their lunarwing, and, after interacting in close proximity with the Talon for so long, she decided to explore their ideals.

It decidedly did her some good; the peace of Aviana's Druids of the Talon helped mellow out the druidess's very extravagant habits and violent tendencies when she didn't get her way. They molded her from a loud, boisterous hatchling into a beautiful, pristine figure. She rose through their ranks, first as a Skysea Wanderer, and then a Starcaller, later being promoted to one of Aviana's Talonguard (Albeit the reserve forces.)

When the Horde invaded Ashenvale, the Druids of the Claw were the first line of defense that bolstered the wisp wall -- but behind them, the Druids of the Talon worked. Scouting, cartographing, helping coordinate and carry messages; and when the Battle for Wildbend finally commenced, the Druids of the Talon were there, using hot coals to bomb the Horde from above. Fylariea herself, however, took a far more active role. Putting her training as a Moon to good use, she took the roll of a Starcaller to a whole new level, holding a swathe of the river on her own and firing off magnificent, beautiful patterns at the oncoming grunts. If they were not entranced by the patterns, then they were not deft enough to evade them. The outcome was the same; Fylariea's casts were a patterned, bullet-hell-esque swirl of death. She was commended with numerous Marks of Honor for her work... which she promptly got rid of, sickened by the reminder of the incidents.

When the Horde broke through Wildbend, Fylariea fought bitterly to try and hold them at Lor'danel, but it was no use. She retreated to Darnassus at the bequest of her commanders, who decided to shut down the portal gateway up into Teldrassil. At first, it seemed as if it were to be a siege, and then an occupation... And then.

Then, the World Tree, Azeroth's precious Crown, was set on fire.

Here, Fylariea was almost entirely useless. Smoke rises, and so do birds -- flying wasn't helping anyone. She tried to use magic to clear the air, and managed to evacuate a handful of people before she, too, was forced to accept defeat and fled through the mages' portals.

She chose not to attend the Tournament of Ages that year. The shock was too great, and the pain resonated throughout all the Kaldorei, Fylariea included.

At the Siege of Lordaeron, Fylariea assisted in the invasion of the city. Fortunately, she was not in the city at the time of the Plague being unleashed... instead, she was high above, performing bombing runs for Gnomish engineers.

Fylariea's presence immediately after was diverted to a great disturbance in the west when she returned to Stormwind. After reporting to her commander, she diverted course from the city and set out on a long flight to the island of Kul Tiras, where she promptly began to investigate odd happenings in Drustvar.

Sometime during this period, the elf began to see the results of extensively facing the Nightmare. While never converted to it, fighting it caused damage to her ontology, removing her from nature ever-so-slightly. Her aging appeared to cease entirely and become marked by strange mutations, her animal forms leaking through to effect her caster form; scaley wrists and torso, fangs, wings.

The Order of Starbreeze
In memory of Teldrassil and her long-destroyed village, Starbreeze, Fylariea took a vow she made to herself long ago to heart. With those incidents as shining examples of history repeating itself at an exponential level, Fylariea formed an Order, aptly named the Order of Starbreeze. After learning the Sentinels had refused to aid Starbreeze because it was an 'acceptable' loss, and after interacting with some poor souls the priestesses had deemed 'beyond saving', Fylariea decided that she was not going to stand by any longer. If no one else would, then -she- would. She dedicated the Order of Starbreeze to defending those deemed expendable, saving those deemed beyond such, and razing any who would dare attempt to prey on such poor souls. She made it her mission, that Teldrassil and Starbreeze Village would never again be fates shared by any settlement in the future.

The elf turned her gaze to attempting to find her own section of land to call her own, and found the object of her desires far to the West. A long extinct volcano that stood a lonely vigil far to the West of Teldrassil and the Azuremyst Isles, she christened her new section of land Tír na nÓg, in honor of the old tales of a land of eternal youth. The fertile soil found the place perfect for her needs, and abandoned buildings abounded on the inside of the caldera; settled by humans, Horde, and Kaldorei at different times and then abandoned when the outpost was expensive to maintain and supply, as well as having no strategic or resource value. Once Fylariea obtained the deed for the isle, she set about weaving wards all over it. Now, a thick, silver mist hangs over the island; ships that set sail for it find themselves heading back to shore, somehow turned about as they sailed through the fog. Teleports get redirected to Darkshore, and portals outright fail. Scrying spells seem to completely refuse to acknowledge the island's existence.

Temple Incident
The "Temple Incident" is an event that Fyl is slightly infamous for among many of Teldrassil's citizens. She sat in on a study group as her friends were learning to charm animals, and she followed along, excited at how 'well' she was doing.

With her inflated sense of ego, she went home that night and snuck out after her curfew, planning to charm an animal for a pet. Unfortunately, she didn't realize that the constraining dimensions for the spell were the hard part, not the actual casting. She ended up casting the spell and charming a few hundred critters around her. This use of magic caused her eye-veil to flare-and badly, too. She ended up blinded for a few days until it settled down.

In her panic, she ran from the huge vibrations in the ground as animals stampeded toward her. She ran from outside Starbreeze all the way to the Temple of the Moon in Darnassus. Many were present to witness the event at the time, and although their accounts differ slightly, many regard the entire event as ridiculously hilarious.

The priestesses didn't exactly find it so, and neither did the sentinels, as this little girl ran into the Temple, weeping in terror and pain, screaming for Elune's mercy with her eyes on fire. The animals trampled the grounds, all of them cramming into the temple-right as the spell wore off. The animals, of course, panicked-predators and prey were all packed together like sardines-and the Temple staff had to subdue the whole lot of them, and many of the then-lower-ranked Sentinels were in charge of cleaning up the animals'... messes.. Needless to say, Fylariea was banned from the Temple until she finished her druidic training.

The event is barely remembered today, as the rumors about it died out. Only the ones who were present remember, and likely, and most of those would not remember Fylariea at first glance.

Physiognomy
Kaldorei; a term that invokes the wispy, delicate image of an elven woman glowing with inner radiance, or a bearish, strong man to rival any of human nobility. The elf that identifies as such does not fit either such stereotype, and indeed seems to vary heavily from the assumptions aforementioned. Standing at a meager five feet and eight inches, by human measurements, the elf is almost laughably short. She weighs in appropriately at a little over a hundred and forty pounds, a rather delicate thing at first glance.

Looking closer, however, one would note more anomalies with her identifying race; for example, her skin is far closer to the tone of a slightly tanned human then any of the Night Elven standards of pink, green, blue, or purple. Were it not for the signature, mobile ears that can droop or perk at the whim of their bearer, one might even have their doubts as to her true race of origin.

Further complicating the matter is the frustration that Fylariea's visual age presents; her venerability is not measured in scars or wrinkles, or even calloused and weathered skin, as one would expect; instead, her venerability is measured by odd mutations and habits resulting from her willing unity with nature and the eldest practices of druidism and witchcraft. Paradoxically, her visual age might reflect a visage akin to a human of sixteen years, or perhaps one might think her closer to her forties. To tell an exact age is impossible, a quality that was shared by most elves until they lost their immortality, though never quite to this saturation.

The elf's variants from her people's standard physiognomy becomes rapidly more apparent the closer one is to look at her body. While certainly slim and perhaps even 'conventionally attractive', the elf is lined with taut muscles that denote the lithe visage of a runner; a deceptive sort of slightness that in no way betrays the lurking elven strength below. Feathery hair usually makes itself known by being held up in a sort of tail on the back of her head; luscious locks that are like silk to the touch. The exact color of the aforementioned varies depending on many factors; biome, temperature, weather, time, season, mood, and magic saturation being the primary factors, though others have been known to have a pronounced effect as well, albeit rarely. More exotic, however, are her mutations then simple body shape and color; all spout from some sort of deep connection to nature, and whilst some of them have obvious sources, some are far stranger and seem illogical, as if evolution had no idea what it was doing.

The more obvious mutations are the magnificent, twelve-point antlers that break from her hair, swooping up gracefully above the elf's head. At the pedicules of each side of the antlers, the old symbols for Elune and An'she are present. They are carved with elven deities on the left, on the same branch as Elune; on the right, Malorne and other Wild Gods and venerated loa are depicted. These go through seasonal shifts, molting sometime in late March and beginning to grow back through the summer, reaching their apex in mid-January.

In between the antlers that seem to embody a stag, the elf sports a rather odd, static symbol; a white crescent with the inner curve pointed down, and a white circle suspended in the embrace of the curve pointed downwards as well. To most druids, the symbol is recognizable as the symbol of the Pale Lady and the Blue Child, the symbol that most druids bear on their shoulders, only slightly tilted; to more clued fellows, they would understand the positioning of the antlers and the glowing mark were the blessing, or the reflection of, a bond with a Lunarwing Owl, one of Elune's sacred messenger birds and Aviana's proxies.

The more obscure mutations are usually kept well hidden, with either illusions or clever clothes. The elf's wrists and a band from the upper part of her torso, from her upper belly to under her bust, are covered in pale green, gemlike scales. They seem to have replaced her skin, or grown over it; they meld seamlessly with her body. Her teeth are grown to unnaturally fanglike length, and some swear to have seen her bite secrete poison. Occasionally, a wisp of pale green gas might emit from her nose, causing anyone who might inhale it to become fatigued; even more rarely, she sometimes coughs up sand.

One might even make the claim that her entire body is, in a way, mutated; she looks like an elf halfway between traditional Kaldorei and Quel'dorei; perhaps she had been exposed to, or a creature of, heavy arcane usage in the past -- or was one, concurrently.

The rarest of all rarity are the combined showcasing of all of the wings of all of her flight forms sprouting from her back, arranged in such a way that she appears to be a strange cross between a butterfly and a seraphim; with the Lunarwing's prodigious wingspan above the span of her former Stormcrow's form, and then, as the final and smallest set closest to her waist, what look to be the wings of a Gilnean Raven. These are a rarity to behold, because Fylariea usually wears a cape around her shoulders, which serve the same purpose as a beetle's elytra and guard such protrusions both from sight and from harm. When her cloaks happen to be semi-transparent, there is usually a minor illusion spell woven into them to veil them from view. It is unknown if Fylariea can actually fly with said wings or if they are purely cosmetic; given that they are rather questionable when it comes to the wing-body ratio, the latter is likely the case.

Apparel
Fylariea tends to keep herself garbed; she has no desire for the ritualistic nudity of her sisters, though she has no qualms about showing skin or a small amount of scales. Her clothes vary heavily depending upon the day; sometimes she will dress in all natural pelts and bones that she herself shaped into clothing, straight from the wilds; other times, she will garb herself in fancy regalia of Gilnean make, fit for a noble. Most of the time, however, she goes for comfort in preference to fashion.

Fylariea takes a measure of pride on her garb - that is, she has strandards of coverage. Though usually wreathing herself in leathers and furs and sometimes cloth, she will go to great lengths to keep herself appropriately covered. The 'traditional' garb excuse that many women use to show off their bodies is found distateful, and she will adequately cover her form from prying eyes.

Her choice of garments, whatever they may be, seem primarily designed for first comfort and then practicality. Druidic adornments such as furs and feathers are commonly included, but she is not the sort to lose sleep over the breach in uniform.

Her preferred color schemes incorporate purples and bronze/gold into the design, but she is commonly seen in other chromatic scales as well. Brown and green seem to be a second favorite.

She avoids heavy armor like the plague. She will -never- be caught in plate or mail if there is a reasonable alternative. Some accuse her of being incapable of wearing such - her defense is that she doesn't believe in operating seventy pounds of metal and still being 'fight worthy'. Perhaps there's some wisdom to the statement - after all, she hasn't died yet...

Adornments are scant, but there is a singular piece that she always wears, one with great sentimental value - her choker. Shaped of bronze gears on a simple leather strap, a chain is threaded between the mechanical pieces. On this chain is hung a collection of charms and likewise similar things - a hearthstone, purple crystals, a dreamcatcher made of emerald... all of them are charms from either her father or a lover.

Weaponry and Armaments
Though to the casual observer, Fylariea's weaponry might seem many-fold and constantly changing, a more careful inquirer would quickly learn that there are only three weapons in her personal arsenal - two of which with a substantial backstory, especially for such a simple thing as a weapon. It has been argued that perhaps all of her weapons are in actuality the SAME weapon, simply changing forms, as she is never seen with two different weapon types; however, this is not the case, as is evidenced by anyone with the power to investigate such claims.

Stellar and nature magic, athames, a scythe as long as she is tall, horridly spiked and vicious claw-gauntlets - Fylariea sports enough weaponry at any given moment to be classified as a weapon of mass destruction. Proficient at least to an extent with all of these, she much prefers to use magic as her primary form of offense and defense.

Animal Forms
As all druids are now wont to do, Fylariea has more forms then her caster alone. More then most druids, indeed; even as a Talon, the art of Shapemending was always fascinating to the elf, guiding her ever-onward in search of more forms to acquire. She usually has multiple forms to serve the same purpose; forms from different times in her life, but still bound by sentiment and trusted value.

A druid's feral form is one of the very first any self-respecting Thero'shan learns, and Fylariea is no different. Though she dabbles in modifying and creating her own forms out of pure mana and spirit energy, as well as binding said forms inside of frames of wicker and wood in the style of old Witchcraft, her very first form was that of a magnificent nightsaber, whose pelt was as fluid and as adaptable as her hair now is. Anyone to lay eyes upon this form would understand where the hair had come from, and be left to appreciate the beauty of the beast's blessing and mane. Other forms do exist, such as the owlcat -- which governs the feathery style she keeps it in, and fuels the growth of her antlers, but these are rarely used as they tend to erode her sapience faster then her trusty nightsaber.

All druids have a special place in their hearts for the bear twins Ursoc and Ursol; and even if they do not follow their path directly, most druids are at least versed in their philosophy and possess a guardian form. Fylariea, as with her feral forms, has multiple. As with her feline familiars, she experiments with binding spirit and mana to stone to create her own forms, but she would never have got there without the aid of her previously bound forms. The first was a bear hailing from the wilds of Darkshore before the Cataclysm, and is mostly left to his own devices; the second is a den mother from the Grizzly Hills, who decorates her savage frame with bones and paint to showcase her ferocity, and is more oft employed to allow Fylariea to attune with her maternal side. The last, though most certainly not the least, is an ursa totemic who challenged Fylariea to combat for disrespect to his tribe; at the time, the elf was still struggling to get over the loss of her village at the hands of the Gnarlpine, and blamed all furbolg for her loss. Her disrespect earned her the ire of the totemic; but once she was subdued, and her reasons laid bare, he took pity on the druidess, and bound himself to her to allow her to 'see as he did, and know the furbolg as they were, past her biases and hatred'. She gladly took the offer, and soon the two were fast learners of their bound companion. Fylariea far prefers the totemic's form to any other when in combat; perhaps because he is sapient in a way, and can aid her more then animals' instincts.

Perhaps the pride-and-joys of Fylariea's forms are her avian bodies; thrice-bound are they, taking the form of either a regal Stormcrow from Mount Hyjal, a Gilnean Raven named Onyx that she took in after the Gilneans evacuated to Darnassus after the cataclysm, and the magnificent, overtly fluffy form of the Lunarwing Owl that she prides herself on so much. Her plumage is always immaculate and well-preened, and in her Lunarwing form, the majority of her body mass seems to be feathers, making her an extraordinary cuddler.

When she must take to the ground, Fylariea has both a stag and a doe bound; whereas she would rather take the Tirasian Doe's form on in most cases, for obvious physiological reasons, she keeps the stag bound to her in reverence for Malorne, to allow her to perhaps be closer to the Horned God.

Not all forms can be considered equal; thus why druids take on multiple for different tasks. While flying is and will always be Fylariea's primary calling, she has taken measures to ensure she will be at least functional in the water, as well. Threefold are her forms; the lazy, blubbery form of a sea lion, the vicious and deadly form of a Northrend Orca, and the playful form of a dolphin she bound herself to off the coast of Tiragarde Sound who called himself 'Flapper', and had seperated from his pod due to an insatiable curiosity to see the world.

Perhaps the most grievious shortcoming of the elf is that she does not have the patience to acquire the form of the magnificent Owlbear, more commonly known as a moonkin; though this is hardly for a lack of trying. Most can see through her facade of emotion and personality nigh-immediately, and want nothing to do with such a mindset; Fylariea has settled for the second-best practice of channeling astral magic around herself, attuning her mindset to the logical, monotonous magic.

In perhaps a nod to the goddess Aessina, Fylariea has taken on the form of a low-sentience, semi-autonomous treant as her own, one she grew herself from a small sapling. While largely unused, it serves the elf well as an amplifier for her relatively weak nature magic, and allows her to heal without overt difficulty.

Underlying Personality Summary
Fylariea's personality is a mindset of masks; a many-fold, layered expression. Like an iceberg, the majority of the elf's mind is out of view from the rest of the world. She seems almost incapable of expressing more then one side of her at any given moment -- the elf is rather like a thousand-sided dice, floating in an immeasurably large pool of ink. At any given time, one face breaches the surface, but the other facets of her personality are hidden underneath.

The druidess's mask has many different layers; every face and personality she takes has been reworked many times. She imitates what she sees working with other people - subtly manipulating the world by pursuing proven paths to reach her goals, whether or not the path she follows is one she truly feels comfortable treading. Relentless, cunning, manipulative, and conscience-low, the elf will do just about anything to reach her endgame; if it is necessary to fulfill her aims, she considers the path taken to her self-defined 'victory' to be ammoral.

That doesn't mean she has no drive to be a 'good person', or to be perceived as a good person. She views it as easier to get what she wants if she is well-liked, and does her best to be kind to whomever she meets. This ought not to be interpreted as genuine care, however - because although she might pretend, the elf is remarkably low on empathy and largely views the general populace as insufferable idiots; not that she'd ever say that to their faces. Very few make it to her 'inner circle', but those that do have her dedicated loyalty and care... until they screw it up.

A long life spent making friends that do not share her longevity has given rise to perhaps the most defining trait of the elf's personality - that fear of being abandoned, of being alone and unwanted. While it does not surface quite as often as it once did, anymore, she does not take well to being 'abandoned'; it drives her into a nearly psychotic state, paranoid and fear-fueled hate spewing from every orifice until she is reassured that she is not alone.

If one were to put Fylariea's mind into a physical form, they would likely describe a landscape filled with ashes and ruins - with perhaps dead plants here and there. Her thoughts are reminiscent of a very large, empty continent with shattered, chaotic sections that might be ten feet higher or lower then the land they border. Some might assume it to be a hellscape, firey and agonizing -- but she is actually quite calm most of the time, and despite the majority of her mind being desolate, it is wasteland, not an apocalyptic reflection. It bears the somber peace of the aftermath of a great war, or an immeasurably large storm - a battlefield where the only one left standing was Fylariea herself, because everyone else had fallen.

Known Combative Abilities
Many people underestimate the combative abilities of druids. The common misconception is that all druids are tree-hugging, pacifistic half-wits who like to grow flowers and hug animals. While that is certainly the case for -some- druids, it is called a misconception for a reason. Druidic magic, by definition, is nature magic; in some cases, even dabbling in the arcane to balance it out, in the case of the astral arts. Nature magic is far more expansive then simply growing flowers; for example, it controls the elements, as well. Fylariea herself is living proof of there being more to your average druid then tree-hugging and animal-loving - while not especially powerful, the elf is intelligent, cunning, and extremely versatile, as any good druid ought to be. The most accurate classification of Fylariea Talvethren is as a Subversive.

The most common technique for combat associated with druids is shapeshifting - becoming great sabercats, massive bears, and other assorted beasts of the wilds to stalk the shadows and pounce on unsuspecting foes, or defend the weak, even carve incredible paths of destruction through the battlefield. Fylariea takes this a step further, employing the relatively unknown art of shapemending - that is, healing -through- the Dreamshift that results in a druid's transformation. In addition, her list of animal forms is far more expansive then that of your traditional Cenarion druid.

If one has ever been unfortunate enough to face a fully trained druid in combat who did not specialize in shapeshifted combat, they would have likely been on the unfortunate receiving end of moonfire, solar wrath, or starsurges; all traditional, relatively staple druidic spells. Fylariea employs her creativity here, most of all; manipulating magic unbound by set spells and instead choosing to create her own form and bound for her magic. Whether she be hurling arcane that would make a mage do a double take and reassess her classification or pouring enough nature magic into conjured solar power that it might as well be literal stellar plasma, Fylariea's magic is as distinctive as she is and almost invariably deadly in intent.

For the magic that is not inherently or immediately deadly, Fylariea chooses to exercise extraneous cruelty and sadism. Using the pure force of life in a directly ironic mirror on the usual stereotype, she channels nature magic into roots and vines - except they are not intended to root. She usually modifies their growth slightly, so that they possess bladelike thorns along their length -- and then commands them like whips, using them to shred lightly armored targets like some sort of demented druidic lamia. If she's feeling especially low-key or angry, and immediate termination isn't required, she may just pour nature magic into the various harmful bacteria on or inside of a person's body... leaving them to fall victim to some of the most horrible diseases ever to befall mortalkind, artificially fueled by life - as the Dream does not discriminate.

While usually one would consider elemental magic to be the sole property of shamans, they do not have a monopoly - druidism has more then a subtle foot in the pool of elementals. Aviana's followers often deal with air magic, calling gusts of wind and lightning to harass enemies. The Druids of the Flame are infamous for their assosciation with the Firelord, and the Druids of the Fin are often found coercing water to give themselves artificial currents and impair the movement of their enemies. Fylariea does not view the elemental magics as any different then a tool to be employed when necessary -- and has no qualms about using them in various ways to accomplish her goals.

Moving even father away from traditional druidism, druids also hold some measure of control over the Light -- not the Holy Light of Creation, but Elune's Light, which is Light of sorts even if not what is traditionally considered to be Light by the more common wielders of such. In the same vein as Tauren Sunwalkers, druids can also call on the Light from An'she in the form of pseudo-solar magic. While druids do not technically have control over the Void, there is always a dark side to the moon -- and Fylariea does not fear the dark. While it is rare to see her employ either Light or Shadow in her arsenal, it is not unheard of and far from impossible.

Known Associates and Relationships
Glamonor Pureheart - Friend

Gaerolas Talvethren - Father [Deceased???]

Garliegh Carlisle - Ex-courtier, friend.

Keira Atterton - Ex-Mate

Almormi Redfern - Mate

Alina Marhel and Ferial Darkwood -- First round of Thero'shans

Ferlash Sutton and Myst Lastlead -- Second round of Thero'shans

Ithalaine, Isoraen Nightstar, Skycaller Faeb - Shan'dos

Prior Organizational Affiliations
The Freemen of Azeroth - Expulsed

Silver Rose Alliance - Left for personal reasons

The Dragon's Candle - Left on good terms

The Starbreeze Renaissance - Former leader, organization was dissolved.

Embershield Protectorate - Left on good terms

Kalnor'anaar - Fell out with E'nyssea

The Order of Starbreeze - Matriarch

Voice Claim:
Nyandra Springbloom from Val'Sharrah

Art and Visual References:
''Chibi Fyl! ''

Complements of E'nyssea, author unknown.

Fylariea Talvethren, 

''by Strange Octopus. Complements of Nylannna''

Renders of Fyl

''by chill, complements of... chill. >.< Fyl's Bronze Choker. ''

Charms not included.

WoW Magic Web (Official Illustration)

Fyl falls somewhere in between Nature and Arcane.

Age Timeline for Kaldorei

Maturing physically at twenty, they are mentally considered children till two hundred.

Kaldorei Facial Tattoos and what they represent.

Claws:

Associated qualities: Meeting challenges head-on, bravery, ferocity, strength, speed, agility, stealth, hunting, cunning, tracking, pride, grace, intelligence, loyalty, feral, aggressive, predator.

Claws are the symbol for an important animal within the Kaldorei society, the Nightsaber. Sabers are ferocious animals, feral and aggressive when leaving in the wild. Those tamed and befriended with the Kaldorei are however extremely loyal.

Sabers are extremely good at hunting and tracking, in combat they are agile and swift. They are able to move around the forest unseen and silent. Hesitation is not something that suits this animal or the person who carries this symbol as tattoo. They face their problems and challenges head-on and are perhaps not considered to most patient person. They move with pride and grace, truly the ultimate hunter.__NEWSECTIONLINK__