Vynlarion Azureheart

((This is read as oldest at the bottom, newest at the top, and pictures at the bottom))

High Commander
A title he could never think of having as a boy in Lordaeron. A title he still struggles to shoulder now. He is the leader, and as High Commander Vynlarion Auzreheart, he would ensure no more children would die in the woods... no more families would be slaughtered...and no more children would be forced to grow up before their time.

The Horde Contingent
He hastily struck up a petition, and soon his order was created. He was horribly saddened at the prospect of what he was going to do...but he deemed it necessary; many Paladin has lead bloody paths but came out as vindicators of their people; Turalyon, Uther, and so forth.

The Shattering
As the world was ripped apart and Vynlarion squatted in Silvermoon, pissing the time away, he became embittered: no one was treating anyone right, and trying to solve problems just wasn't doing anything. He realized it was because he was in Silvermoon. He quickly headed out to Orgrimmar, and on the zepplin there was struck with an insane idea...creating an order of all peoples of the Horde to not only defend the Horde...but bring peace for the next generation. The birth of The Horde Contingent was at hand

The Scourge War
Like almost all able bodied men, Vynlarion was sent north to fight the Scourge. He fought through the endless plains of the Howling Fjord, then trodded through the endless blizzards of Dragonblight, then enjoyed a slight respite in the Grizzly Hills; a place where he could feel his face once more. After fighting in Zul'drak and the Storm Peaks he arrived at Icecrown. Stationed with the Argent Crusade, he soon found himself being noticed for his Paladin abilities. It was becoming a common sight for people to ask him quick questions as he moved through their various encampments, like if he was really a Paladin and a member of the Horde (aka not a Blood Knight). He was definately not the only Sin'dorei Paladin, but the others had retreated into obscurity....perhaps out of shame for what their people had become; fel addicts and whores.

A bitter taste was left in his mouth when he helped chop down wood for the construction of the tournament grounds in Icecrown, but he soldiered on, and after it's construction was given a grand set of armor and a glowing Draenei hammer to match; a sign of becoming an Argent Crusade Paladin and a tournament combatant.

The Horde
After his people joined the Horde (or what remained of his people in their fel addicted state) Vynlarion trained hard and escaped the forests of Quel'thalas to explore the world; fighting for those he thought could use his help. Silvermoon dispised him and his blue-white eyes, a sign of his hatred of the Fel.

After he had wound his way back to Quel'thalas, he wandered into the Silvermoon Inn: a horrid cess pit of disgusting sounds and sights. He smiled bitterly, knowing his friends were probably having an easier time in life than him; Humans and Dwarves hadn't forsaken the Light after all.

He soon degraded to fighting in the arenas, honing his skills and proving himself worthy to join the Argent Dawn.

The Light does not lay with the Fel
The Prince Kael'thas was planning to bring all the people to a promised land of sorts, where a new type of magic would cure their people of their newfound addiction with the loss of the Sunwell.

Vynlarion would have no part in this exodus, though. He was born in Quel'thalas...but more importantly, he wanted to know what had happened to his friends. He mocked going with his people to Outland, but snuck away into the Tirisfal woods to find them. It would be a long arduous trek before he learned what had happened to his friends.

His human Paladin confident and friend had retreated with many to Stormwind, and his Dwarven friend had retreated to Ironforge to stand with his people. He was alone. He was not a Blood Elf. He was nothing but a Paladin without a people to protect.

Fall of Quel'thalas
Vynlarion arrived before the Scouge army did, and was thankful to hear that the Elfgates had been closed, but was horrified to know that the Elves did not plan to listen to him when he explained the size of the army. They believed him tainted by the Humans, and ergo he was sent to the front to die with all the others. It was there he saw his brother, Fenlenn. He had grown tall and broad shouldered, and looked ready to take on Arthas himself. Though there was a barrier when they spoke; Vynlarion no longed acted like an elf, and he didn't even know anyone anymore. He learned that his parents and Vorun had gone to the First elfgate to strengthen it, but that the liklihood of it falling was quite high.

It was only a matter of time before the first elfgate fell, and with it...Vynlarion's parents and charasmatic and kind brother. His brother Fenlenn told him to get back to Silvermoon, to defend the part of Quel'thalas that just couldn't fall.

Silvermoon fell, but to Vynlarion's shock and awe and horror, he did not. He learned his family (including Fenlenn) had been slaughtered brutally. On that day; much of the young man's heart died.

Fall of Lordaeron
Vynlarion and his two friends had nearly finished their Paladin training when the Prince returned. He was proud to hear of such a human and waved to the soldiers when they left for Northrend, wishing them nothing but luck and prosperity in whatever they were doing. Though the prince was different; he payed no heed to his people and strode into his father's throne room. What happened next only ended with the screams and cries of horrified visitors and the mass exodus of many citizens. Vynlarion and his friends were desperate, but they were not stupid. They knew Arthas did not intend to stop just at home; Quel'thalas was dangerous, very dangerous for a traitor prince. Vynlarion agreed with his friend's statements but was defiant in leaving them for his people. The now fully grown Dwarf said his goodbyes, as he had to find the ambassador to Ironforge and make sure he escaped safely. It left Vynlarion with his best friend. He continued to refuse his friend's pleas to go to his own people, but eventually his friend grew impatient. He yelled at Vynlarion, saying "It's heartwarming to know you wish to stay with me and my people, but your people need you more than I need you! We will meet again, someday, but for now you need to make sure your family lives! Do you remember your family? No? WHO CARES! Save them! Save them all! Show me that Paladin spirit that you showed those bandits all those years ago!" Vynlarion grudgingly agreed, and with a tight embrace to his friend and a whisper of the word of peace in Thalassian, he took his charger and rode for Quel'thalas. As he left, he could smell the fires that would consume Lordaeron, his heart heavy with the knowledge that his friends could be dead already.

The Recruits' Pledge
''We are the hand of the Light, not the mind. We are the hand of the Light, not the soul. We are the Light's weapons; our cause righteous and unfaultering in all our days. We are the hand of the Light. We are Paladins. ''

Vynlarion and his two friends were made into recruit knights; given light armor and a real weapon. They would help with all aspects of the Paladin life, for all aspects of life require a Paladin's attention. Their friendship continued, but it became distant for Vynlarion when his people removed themselves as a member of the Alliance. His friends trusted Vynlarion, but worried his people's ways would show through in the now disheartened elf. Though all would hold strong to the pledge they had taken; they would remain men of holy Light, even if they weren't actually men.

When the Light comes knocking, you don't pretend you're not home.
It was a freezing Lordaeron winters' day and Vynlarion and a few other squires were out chopping wood for the various citizens of Lordaeron who were either too sick or too old to chop wood themselves. His hands were numb, but he sweated freely, fully aware that it was chilling him all the more. After his squire friends and him finished (two humans and a dwarf) chopping the maximum amount of wood they could possibly carried, they started a fire in a clearing. They chatted and laughed weakly as the fire warmed their frigid bodies. In the haze of exhaustion and the frigid cold, it would've seemed like only minutes had Vynlarion fallen asleep.

But he awoke; all his friends were sound asleep, rolled up in their old second hand cloaks for warmth...and to keep the snow out. Though it wasn't as peaceful as it seemed, not to Vynlarion atleast. He felt on edge and as he was about to wake the closest to him; the burly Dwarven boy, a rustling in the trees sounded, quickly followed by four fully grown Humans, dressed in old dirty leathers and badit masks. He bellowed as loud as he could to get his friends alive, thanking the gods silently for such an ability to yell so loudly. They bolted up, but for the youngest of them; the spry human boy, it was too late. A dagger impaled the boy's chest and he screamed in agony, before falling still in the cold snow; his blood making oozing from his back and chest, along with his mouth. His face was twisted in agony and dispear. The other squires and Vynlarion picked up their axes and rushed recklessly towards the bandits. They laughed and said something to each other in low Common, then rushed forward with terrifying speed.

The squires drew together, keeping most attacks out, but Vynlarion was sliced down the chest, the freezing effects of the winter weather slowing him slightly, the Dwarf boy kicked in the groin and knocked out, and his closest friend, the remaining human was thrown into a tree, and lay still there, a quiet groan escaping his lips.

The young squire Vynlarion grew angry; angry for the loss of an innocent faced boy, angry for the loss of a good day...angry because he knew his childhood was over this day. Except rage didn't fill his heart; a soothing, warm sensation did, as if he was a baby, wrapped in his mother's loving arms. He calmed slightly, but rushed forward, picking up a fallen axe and swung mercillessly and with deadly precision. In his attacks, one of the bandits' arm was hacked nearly through at the shoulder, the others looked at their ally, clearly not prepared for injuries on their side. Their leader (or so he assumed by the finer looking leathers) looked to the other bandits, nodding, they retreated into the woods.

Vynlarion fell to his knees, sobbing uncontrollably. He stared at his hands; shaking and bruised. He looked back at his friends, then realized he couldn't just sit there crying. He stumbled over to his best friend laying against the tree, and tapped his face lightly, then shook him, saying "Wake up you son of an Ogre!" Slowly he did just that, and with a smirk on his face, he told Vynlarion "Well...I guess you just beat us to becoming a Paladin...you just saved our asses..." The young human looked at Vynlarion, then their Dwarf friend, who groaned in pain. Vynlarion nodded, and saw to his friend's injuries with crude bandages.

Although for the youngest of them...there was no saying. He was dead. Vynlarion cried once more, not actually feeling his best friend put an arm around his shoulder as he closed their friend's eyes and layed him flat. The young Dwarf retreated to the near by town to pick up shovels, and in the frigid Northrend air they burried their friend at the small copse, errecting a small shrine made of their axes and their fallen's friend name into a rock.

With saddened faces and heavy hearts, the three remaining retreated to Capital City.

Adolescence to Adulthood
There were very few Elves in the Silver Hand, and even fewer Elves of Vynlarion's age. He was on the precipice of becoming a man, and found that they all seemed to regard him as tainted by the Arcane. Vynlarion was enraged by this, seeing as he had no prowess with any magical power yet, and found this stereotyping hurtful and uncalled for. He trained hard, and even through the slight build the gods had given him, he found himself succeeding in his goal to be a Paladin.

Slowly the Light came to him at first; a glimmer of warmth in his heart when he would visit the sick and dying, as if to remind him that he had the power to help these people, even if he didn't know how to access this power to help. It would be quite some time before neccessity called upon the Light within him.

Childhood to Adolescence
Vynlarion was the third youngest in a family of three sons, and two parents. His brothers were substantially older than him, and ergo quite distant. He was an unintelligent lad (for an Elf), which left him feeling quite isolated from his people. His brother Fenlenn was a spell breaker, and his oldest brother Vorun was a mage. Both were quite successful and had found their paths in life quickly, but Vynlarion floundered in life, searching in vain for a cause.

At one point in the past, a small contingent of Silver Hand Paladins rode into Southern Quel'thalas. They were chasing bandits that had escaped into the Quel'thalassian forests, although they were tired and their horses required water.

Vynlarion wasn't instantly enamoured with these walking manefstations of the Light. He constantly followed their leader around; an elderly man with a kind smile and commanding voice. Shortly thereafter, Vynlarion learned that these Paladins were leaving to continue their hunt. He begged his parents to let him go with the Paladins to Lordaeron, to try and learn something he could be good at. His parents wrere obviously concerned, but decided it was in the best interests of their boy to aid him in seeking out his purpose in life. With teary eyes, the boy who would grow into the Vynlarion of today set off to catch up to his would be brethren.