Jhundormi

This is the page for Jhundormi. She is a human Retribution Paladin, with a Protection secondary spec. She is played as a straight-up old-school retribution paladin with the original Seal of Crusader intact(40% weapon haste), and with rather shoddy healing abilities thanks to a somewhat selfish personality. She also runs on the assumption that the Cleanse spell will remove the effects of intoxication, considering that alcohol is, in fact, a type of poison. =Known History= This is the history that anyone with access to such knowledge would be able to discover.

Childhood and the First War
Jhundormi's past has been long and filled with a great amount of hardship. She was born to the Knight named Malcom Lambardier and his half-elven stablehand lover Opal Leafshade. At the age of eight, she was sent off to live with her seafaring mage uncle for a number of years, where she was involved in a great number of adventures, studying the numerous texts her 'Unca' had collected over his travels. After a few too many brushes with death, her uncle decided to take her to Elwynn Forest, as that was safer. Until the First War broke out. Jhundormi was still in training and in no shape to fight, so she was among the refugees headed north to Lordaeron. Since she didn't want to see her parents, whom she still harbored feelings of resentment for, she departed from the refugees to settle down in Dalaran, spending quite a lot of time perusing the libraries there and researching anything she could get her hands on, particularly the meager amount of lore regarding the Bronze Dragonflight. This nearly-obsessive interest was what led a particularly ill-natured mage to coin the taunting nickname of "Jhundormi" which stuck, despite the asswhooping it earned the poor mage.

Middle age and the Third War
At the age of twenty, after three years of being teased and getting into fights over her little nickname, she decided that getting upset over a name was foolish, and even embraced the moniker. This was also the age when her feelings of resentment for her parents faded and she traveled to her birthplace of Fenris Keep, to find where her parents had gone to and reconnect with them. In a bit of fortune, she discovered that her mother and father were living quite happily in Lordaeron. There, she picked up her training as a Paladin of the Light. Her father was proud that she had chosen to follow his way of life, though her mother was understandably concerned over Jhundormi's lack of prowess with a weapon. This is probably what led the young Paladin to try mastering every style of weapon she could get her hands on. At the age of thirty-eight, the third war broke out. Jhundormi did not react well to seeing her parents fall victim to the plague, and she reacted even worse to seeing them rise as undead. Rendered catatonic for months, she was returned to a rebuilt Stormwind. There she resolved to become less of a coward, and even fell in with a mercenary group for a few years, living a quite lucrative -though still virtuous- life.

The First Naxxramas Invasions
Naturally, she has her flaws. Glaring in her case, being rampant alcoholism and promiscuity. It wasn't too unusual to see her trolling the taverns for one-night stands or simply drinking herself into a stupor during her first couple of years in Stormwind, though these traits have been gradually toned down, coincidentally starting at the point in her life that marked her departure from mercenary work. There have been many people in her life that she has referred to as a 'significant other', though she has never used that term with more than one person at a time. The frequency with which she enters and leaves relationships could also be a factor in the gradual stagnation of her love life.

She joined the Argent Dawn several months before the initial appearance of Naxxramas, quickly rising through the ranks. It was during the invasion surrounding the Dread Citadel's arrival that Jhundormi encountered her risen father, as a skeleton but with just enough flesh left intact for her to recognize his face. She didn't handle this well and slipped into a sort of a berserker rage, annihilating an army of thirty or so ghouls and ghosts, shattering the necrotic stone which was acting as an anchor for the nearby ziggurat. This display of prowess was what earned her an official tabard of the Argent Dawn, and a guaranteed spot in the Argent Tournament when it eventually came around. She participated in many probing missions into the halls of Naxxramas, however she was deemed too reckless for full assaults.

The Burning Crusade and a Collection of Treasures
During the events in the Outlands, Jhundormi focused on more domestic affairs; such as the opening of Ahn'Qiraj and the resulting assaults thereof, and numerous battles against Ragnaros in the Molten Core. She had even participated in a handful of incursions into Blackwing Lair and the slaying of a great many powerful Black Dragons, earning herself the right to wear the cloak crafted from the hides of one of the most powerful of their brood. During the opening of the gates of Ahn'Qiraj, she participated directly in the reforming of the scepter, earning herself numerous trinkets as well as honorary membership with the Bronze Dragonflight, and a signet ring which she wears proudly to this day. A friendly conversation, as well as the completion of a few important tasks for the Dragon Azuregos earned her an enchanted bit of jewelry which he 'jokingly' fused with the flesh of her underbelly. Jhundormi still considers this a great boon, considering that this bauble allows her to literally breathe and speak underwater.

Jhundormi was even among the armies that assaulted Kil'Jaeden as he tried to break through, having a ring-side seat as the demon lord was banished and the Sunwell was restored. Souvenirs from this battle included specialized blacksmithing knowledge as well as a fragment of the corrupted Naaru known as M'uru, and a vial of water collected directly from the Sunwell. It is unknown how Jhundormi views the Blood Elves' continued hostility despite the restoration of their source of life on behalf of the Alliance, or at least the Draenei.

The Second Naxxramas Invasions and the Fall of the Lich King
Jhundormi was among the first to travel to Northrend, blaming Arthas for her parents' death, since he was something she could attack physically. It was in Northrend that she discovered how easily she would resort to underhanded tactics in the name of vengeance, and how much she enjoyed it. A fact that frightened her immensely. She was fooled into assisting with the escape of Drakuru, and once he extended an opening in the form of recruitment into the scourge, she was quick to 'accept' it, feigning undead with the help of the Ebon Blade, assisting with the conquering of Zul'drak before an opening presented itself for his slaughter. She stole control of the Death Knight's minions with a rod that he had given her himself, and used them to bludgeon him into a bloody mess before the Lich King intervened. She sent her stolen minions against him, but was quickly defeated, spared simply for her 'bravery'.

This would come back to bite Arthas in the ass later on, or it would have if Jhundormi had finished her self-imposed training from hell and gathered enough confidence to participate in the assault on Icecrown Citadel itself. Instead, she assisted in the initial probings into the Lich King's Lair, nearly dieing in combat against Marrowgar, simply the first guardian. Despite her protests, she was left to recover under her own power as all of the healers were required further in.

She was satisfied with the knowledge that the Lich King had been destroyed and was ready to embrace death before an old gnomish friend appeared before her, revealing herself as Chronormu, the male dragon(or a female with a masculine name). He extended the offer of being an official 'Minion of the Bronze Dragonflight' after seeing the feats that she could potentially go on to perform.

Jhundormi now lives her life relatively happily, though at the beck and call of the Bronze. Thankfully, the time-bending nature of the Caverns of Time means that she has a lot of free time, getting whisked off when she is needed and returned to nearly the same instant and place she disappeared from to preserve the masquerade.

=Stories=

This is where I will put my admittedly poorly-written and difficult to follow stories. Hopefully, they'll become better as I practice, and I might even come back and rewrite then at some point. Note that I take some liberties with the locations. Sure, the majority of the Alliance didn't know about Kalimdor until the Third War, but that doesn't mean certain merchant and pirate vessels didn't make port there until then. After all, there were goblins there during the events of the game, which meant that there must have been at least some economy. Note that I also take a bit of liberty with a few of the class skills. No rule saying that a mage can't dabble in demonology a bit. Essentially, I'm doing something terribly taboo and combining Warcraft mechanics with logic.

An Adventure in the Desert
The sweltering sun beat down on a bright morning in Tanaris. A handful of sailors was marching across the sea of sand to barter with the local goblins, pulling a cart laden with goods and gold. They wouldn't reach their destination, however, as they were ambushed by a band of trolls, slaughtered mercilessly save for one survivor. This survivor was a sixteen-year-old human woman with short golden hair and a deeply-tanned complexion, and she fought fiercely, though this didn't save her from capture.

Meanwhile, on a ship anchored off the eastern shore, a middle-aged human mage with prematurely whitened hair sat perusing his collection of tomes as a small imp cavorted about, keeping itself occupied with harmless pranks such as messing with organization and setting books with their bindings inward. The mage didn't seem to take any notice to this, completely engrossed in the current diagram, which was regarding the summoning of a more sturdy breed of demon.

It was nearing sunset by the time the young woman awoke, imprisoned in a wooden cage at the top of a pyramid, looking down over a large festival square. There was a skin of water in the cage with her, but that was all. Even her clothing had been taken. These trolls wouldn't be caught off-guard with any makeshift weapons when the time came, and they had obviously wanted her alive. A quick look at the ground around her cage revealed nothing useful as well, not even loose rocks. She was completely helpless and the sun was in the final stages of setting, the orangish red of the sky fading to a blueish black sheet with pinprick lights twinkling. It would be a beautiful moonless night under other conditions.

The mage was getting worried by now. It wasn't that far of a trip to the goblins' city, and he had sent his men out in the morning. They should have been back well before sunset. He set to work preparing a scrying orb, imbuing it with a customized enchantment which would allow him to use it as a secondary body. He tossed his orb into the sea and quickly locked himself into his quarters, beginning his spell. Within seconds, his view was tied to his device, rapidly sinking into a tangle of weeds as he oriented himself. Moments later, he was rocketing towards the shore, finding his trading group's dinghy and following the tracks well out into the desert, well past the goblin village that was their destination.

Once he had reached the wreckage of his small caravan, he began the grim task of counting the dead and surveying the scene. All of the guards had been slain, as well as his trader, and they lay strewn about the sands. Among the dead were also three trolls close by each other, each somehow felled with a single clean strike to the throat, as though they had been caught off-guard. There was also a furrow leading northwest as though something had been dragged through the sand. Naturally, he would follow this trail, hoping that it would stay intact before it was washed away.

Unfortunately, the mage had lost the trail to the winds and shifting sands near midnight, when everything faded into an eerie stillness, completely silent save for an occasional night creature's cry. Despite a terrible sense of foreboding, fatigue was beginning to creep up on him. He would rest for a few hours and resume his search at sunrise.

The woman woke up, still nude and trussed up like a pig ready to be roasted. She looked upward, toward her bound hands and saw a sand troll grinning down at her, a keen-edged obsidian knife clutched in his hand. The troll spoke, in his native language. "You gwan be a niiice meal for Gahz'rilla. We be startin' da sacrifice at noon. Try not ta die o' fright by den." Naturally, she didn't understand the troll's words, though she thought she understood the intent. She turned her head to get a feel of her surroundings once more. She was tied down on a sort of altar at the head of a flight of stairs which led down into a deep stonework pit filled with water. At the bottom of this pool slept a large white creature that she had seen once or twice before: a hydra of considerable size. She was surrounded by a large gathering of trolls, the majority of which appeared to be clad in ceremonial armor.

The mage had somehow navigated his orb to his desired location and began casting a spell to teleport himself there. He was standing near a gong, looking on with disbelief as a group of trolls cut a woman into pieces and fed them to a gigantic white hydra. His shock made way to fury, burning with such intensity that even the most seasoned berserker would cringe. Then, all at once, the mage's fury vanished into a state of complete tranquility. The trolls were too busy with feeding their god-pet to notice that the mage was channeling an incantation. A two-fold spell which would teleport him into the center of the throng and unleash massive torrents of pure elemental fire, fueled by parts of his own soul. He knew he would be slain, but that was preferable to having to see the look on his brother's face when he told him that his only child had died.

Suddenly, the mage awakened from his sleep. He was laying in the desert in front of a trollish city of sorts, the sun lazily creeping into peak position in the sky. Rising to his feet, he make his way into the city, finding very little in the way of confrontation. This worried him greatly, so he quickened his pace, pausing briefly as his path split. On an impulse, he turned left, and was rewarded by the sight of a large pool, with a gong set up on the close end and surrounded by trolls. This set the mage into a full-on sprint, skidding to a stop once he had reached the ritual site. Without any hesitation, he hurled a fireball at the nearest troll, and then called down a flamestrike upon the largest group nearby, charring six of them to cinders before the reast even registered the disruption.

The head troll looked up to the sky, just as the sun reached peak height. He spoke again in his native tongue, his tone conveying a sense of triumph. "Joo be too late! Dis li'l girl gwan be food!" The girl had finally noticed that things had changed around her, and caught a glimpse of the mage as he was burning his way through the rest of the gathered trolls. "Unca! Hel-" she began to call out to him, but was cut short as the head troll brought his knife down, slicing through the girls throat and pulling the knife downward, the enchanted blade cutting easily through flesh bone and muscle with surgical precision, slicing her chest open wide. The mage had finished incinerating the trolls that hadn't fled, and set his sights on the head troll, who was triumphantly clutching the girl's heart, holding it over his head. He opened his mouth to taunt the mage, but was quickly silenced with a blast of flame incinerating his face.

Dropping the heart, he fell backwards clutching his face. It was quickly regenerating, muscles and veins creeping over singed bone as he shrieked in pain and terror. Never before had this troll been dealt such a blow, or any blow at all since he usually had hordes of minions to take care of any invaders. The mage advanced on the troll as he cowered, quite undignified for a leader. Had he not been so intent on making the troll pay for what he had done, the mage would have laughed at the puddle of urine spreading beneath the shaman.

Suddenly, a brief smirk crossed the mage's face and he used the toe of his boot to draw a summoning circle in the sand. While keeping an eye on the cowering troll, he withdrew two crystal spheres, using one to ensnare the soul of the cowardly beast, while he tried to coax the soul of his niece into the other before it completely dissipated. It was a longshot chance, he used the summoning circle to conjure forth a succubus. "I have an offer for you, milady." He spoke, mentally examining his request. "I offer you the soul of this... admittedly cowardly troll, as well as temporary - I must stress temporary - residence in this woman's body while she recovers from this little encounter. You will be free to do with as you wish with her, provided you stay within my sight at all times. Of course, if you find yourself unable to accept this offer, I will destroy your physical form and banish your essence to wherever it is your kind comes from." As the succubus pondered the offer, the mage set about gathering up the remains of his niece, setting the wiping sand from the dropped heart and using magical flame to cauterize the wound shut to at least leave her somewhat presentable for burial.

"I accept," was the demon's reply, "however there are limits to what is feasible as a suitable vic... er, target for possession." She gestured at the woman's corpse, frowning. "That, is on the very edge of what I would consider, and I doubt that such a possession has been attempted in the past. However, since you have shown an uncanny civility, and a great outpouring of love for this woman, I will attempt the process." The mage nodded once, and cut the rope bindings securing his niece's limbs. Shortly afterwards, the girl's hazel eyes fluttered open, pupils contracting upon contact with the bright noon sun. She sat up, looking like a novice's marionette, jerky an unpracticed in her movements. She looked horrible, her flesh sunburnt and a terrible scar extending from her throat to her navel, between small breasts. She was covered with blood with a deep gash in her throat, which was merely trickling blood as the majority of that fluid was spilled over the altar she sat upon.

The mage was walking the final half mile back to his ship when he had the vague sense of being watched. He turned, and could have sworn he saw a gnome vanishing into the air out of his peripheral vision. With a shrug, he pulled the possessed body of his niece into a more stable position on his back, continuing his trek into the setting sun. Meanwhile, that gnome the mage thought he saw reappeared to watch the mage row back out to his ship. "You were almost seen, Chronormu. And couldn't you have chosen a more appropriate form?" spoke a troll, in a language full of harsh gutteral sounds. "At least I didn't nearly kill the guy, Mal. You're lucky he only thought that was a dream. Why is this one so important anyway? Are you in love or something?" responded Chronormu in the same language, folding his arms over his chest and eyeing the troll with a hint of accusation. Mal, short for Maldormu and a name that bothered him when used by others of his ilk, laughed heartily, retorted with "Well you need all the help you can get in Andorhal. I'm just making sure you have extra bodies to gather pocketwatches for you. And don't forget what happens to the west and up north." With this, Mal vanished, leaving Chronormu to return from whence he came.