Aromis, The Elven Blademaster

Introduction to Aromis
Aromis is a Night Elf that comes from a life of constant hardship, discipline, and danger. He is a very peculiar Night Elf, and is regarded as an anomaly not only for what he is, a Night Elf, and not only for what he has become, a Death Knight. His walk of life has been an odd one indeed, shifting from joy and sorrow in a constant fluctuation of gain and loss. This is the story of Aromis Nightfall, the Elven Blademaster.

Beginnings
Aromis Nightfall lived in a small village in the Ashenvale wilds. It was a Druidic community, far away from other settlements so that they could be closer to nature. Being this close to nature had its prices, however. They were constantly under threat of savage wildlife, demons, satyrs, and the Horde, because the settlement was far too far away from any Sentinel sanctuary to receive help from them, and too far away from the main trade routes to receive supplies from Darnassus, so they fended for themselves, hunting and growing crops for food. Growing food always proved to be bountiful; since it was a Druidic society, their plantlife was fast-growing and lush. Fruit was a staple source of many diets.

The citizens of this town were more than comfortable in scanty clothing and quite often did their business around the town in animal forms. Aromis's parents were more often than not in their favored form of nightsabers, attending social events, hunting, gathering, and even displaying their affection toward one another in these forms. Obviously, they conceived Aromis the traditional way, as he's a night elf, instead of a cat.

Overall, despite the necessity of knowledge of survival, Aromis had a pleasant, calm life. He had many friends, not all of them necessarily furless, and was overall very happy. One thing he did wish for, was for all the hatred and prejudice of his life go away. He hated it, believing that since prejudice doesn't happen among beasts, then it shouldn't happen among those that walk on two feet.

Be careful what you wish for.

Daggerfall
Blood spraying everywhere... A mist of it clinging to the air it seemed... The sharp, shrill screech of steel meeting steel... The strong thud of mangled, mutilated, and mained bodies slamming into the blood-and-bile soaked soil beneath his feet... It was a raid. A large band of satyrs... They were killing everybody. Everyone that Aromis knew; his parents, his friends, and his neighbors, they were all dead, and he would soon share the gruesome fate if it weren't for Elune smiling down upon him. At first it was a small sound; the patter of what sounded like animal feet in the distance, masked almost entirely by the horrible screeches of the dying and gurgling of the dead. But the sound became quicker, and louder, and before Aromis knew it, just as a satyr's dagger was falling down upon him to strike at his heart, he was picked up out of harm's way by a massive, green arm. The adjacent arm swung a colossal sword down at the satyr, decapitating it. Aromis was dazed and confused, unsure of what just happened. When he looked up, he spotted a massive orc who was looking around, and two companions who were frantically killing the satyrs to save the elves who were being attacked. Most of them had perished before they arrived, but there were a few women and children who found refuge upon the orcs' backs. The orc Aromis was with barked orders in orcish, and his companions nodded, spurred their wolves, and ran off with the refugees. He then turned to Aromis, informing him that his name was Drak'nosh, and that he was going to take Aromis to his home in the Stonetalon Mountains, and teach him.

Teach him what, exactly? How to fight with pride, with honor. The Path of the Blademaster.

The Stonetalon Mountains
The trek wasn't too long, for the Stonetalon Mountains were rather close to Ashenvale. In fact, they were next-door neighbors. It took no time at all to