Deep in thought.



"...I've been lying to so many for so long, that it feels almost commonplace. I'm not bothered by it anymore. They told me that what I delved into was too dangerous, too all-consuming and far too addicting. I didn't believe them, but I told them I'd stop. I didn't. I've gotten deceit down to a science without even trying, and even to this very day, they still don't know. All they've seen for over twenty years was a well practiced facade, an impenetrable mask to make them believe that I was still an honorable person..."

The PhysicalEdit


When in his full vestments, Vincentus is a far cry from the man he once was though his appearance is still certainly a sight to behold, and always a force to be reckoned with. Most times, however, he can be found wandering about without his helm, a small set of gold-trimmed reading glasses perched upon his nose and looking entirely too intellectual for one in his line of work. There is no malicious gaze to follow one from place to place, no harsh words or stray demons about. His cloths are most always straight and neat, even when in casual attire.


When placed next to various others in his same field of work, Vincentus seems to be relatively harmless in comparison. He carries with him an air of confidence and complacency. When placed under pressure, he is a phenomenal decision maker, quick on his feet and even quicker with his tongue. While this makes his spell-casting efficient in emergency situations, it has also been known to get him into trouble. While he is well-spoken and clearly educated, his quick and direct way of speaking does not sit well with those who cannot take straight-forward criticism.

Between friends or co-workers, his personality remains the same. Professional and courteous to any and all he meets unless provoked. Though around those he knows well, he seems fairly more relaxed and open. His emotions are much like an open book, expressions always easy to read.


Family LifeEdit

Vincentus Alexander Varlisse is second son of four to parents Alexia and Bartus Varlisse. Of the four sons, Vincentus had been the intellectual, and only child to move onto higher education. Vincentus is through and through a farm-boy at heart. Born on a farm on the outskirts of the village of Darkshire, he and his three brothers had learned the ways of the land, helping their father plant and harvest crops over the seasons. The family was well-known for their hospitality and through this gained a formidable reputation.

A Sudden TurnEdit

Around the time when Vincentus had just turned seven, the Varlisses had taken a trip to Southshore, to visit distant friends and relatives. During that trip, they had also stopped by the magical kingdom of Dalaran to meet with Bartus's old friend, who had taken up studies as a Mage. Vincentus was instantly entranced by the city and its inhabitants, inquiring and learning all he could about the profession that he was so suddenly exposed to, with true childish curiosity.

It was there that an older magus had taken an interest in the young Vincentus and his innate curiosity and unusually high intelligence. It was discovered then that the young boy was capable of, and willing to learn the art and science of the Arcane. After several months the young Vince had been admitted into Dalaran as a mage's apprentice, a move that would inadvertently change his life forever.

A Gradual ShiftEdit

During his teens, Vincentus and several other mage's apprentices, namely a young man by the name of Trasius Aurentus began further investigations of arcane, elemental, and with time, Fel Magic, a far more dangerous and addictive form of magic. They studied deep into the subject, far deeper perhaps than they should have, though without intent to harm. Unfortunately, a single slip of a spell had landed several of the teens in the infirmary. Vincentus and Trasius continued in their studies, eventually learning to summon and harness various demons and creatures from the Twisting Nether. However, their operations had been brought to a sudden and grinding halt after one of their instructors discovered the boys and their activities. The two were scolded relentlessly. Trasius returned to his magister's training, never again speaking of what he and Vincentus had done.

While it seemed that their delving in Fel Magic had ceased, their efforts had not gone unnoticed.

The Life-Altering OfferEdit

One evening as Vincentus had been walking back to his dwelling, he had been approached by a fairly shady figure, one of which in name, is still unknown. It was revealed to the mage apprentice that he was a part of an underground cult of Warlocks, meeting in secret beneath the city streets of Dalaran. The Warlock, through a very long discussion and much convincing, had told Vincentus that his talent in Fel Magic was far too valuable to leave behind, and offered to take the young man on as an apprentice in secret. Vincentus agreed to this. So while still under his training as a Mage, he also underwent the trials and tribulations of becoming a full-fledged and extremely capable Warlock. The now mid-twenties man had effectively begun to live a double-life unbeknown to the Mages, the Kirin Tor, or even his own friend Trasius.

Professor VarlisseEdit

While Vincentus, now in his late twenties, had completed his basic Magister's training, he had also learned his skills as a Warlock at such a rapid rate, that he was soon teaching others, eventually earning his title as 'Professor of Demonology'. He had effectively and single-handedly expanded the underground group's apprentice rate without notice to the Mages above, and eventually earned the nickname of "Demon Police" by his estranged students, having been scolded without remorse whenever they should step out of line, or summon a creature anywhere outside of the classroom. Above it all, he was an esteemed Magus, adept most highly in the manipulation of Fire. Things seemed as though they might have gone well for Vince for the rest of his life.

The Fall of DalaranEdit

The ScatterEdit

All of Vincentus's perfect life took only moments to come crashing down around him. That day, the city had been swept into a panic. The new Professor was so involved in getting his comrades and students to safety, that he'd hardly had time to notice the mage towers crumbling like sand behind them. While the mages did all they could to combat the destruction, their efforts and lives had been in vain. The powerful Archimonde had effectively laid waste to the entire city. Children cried for their parents, men and women cried for their loved ones. For the first time in many years, Vincentus felt weak.

The AftermathEdit

Due to the fall of Dalaran, Vincentus was effectively out of a job on two planes of existence. It was during this point in his life that he'd felt a trip back home to Darkshire would be in order. The small village, however, was not how he had left it. Vince had been hit in the face by a massive culture shock. The beautiful village he once called home was in ruins, having fallen to the undead plague. The place had been destroyed so thoroughly that even his own home, he could not recognize, or even find. It was with a heavy heart that he'd returned to the village's tavern to drink away his sorrows that night.

The Following YearsEdit

A Chance MeetingEdit

For months, it seemed as though Vincentus would either lose himself to the bottle, or lose his mind completely from the insomnia that had overtaken him. He traveled from town to town, picking up odd jobs to support his addiction once he'd run out of funds. On one particular night in Lakeshire, he happened to be served by a young girl, who he later found out to be Sinadelle McKinley, the daughter of his good friend and Arch-Mage from Dalaran. She had recognized him. Sinadelle told him of how her father had sent her away from Dalaran before its untimely demise, and how she had been training to become a mage like her parents had been.

Perhaps it had been an epiphany. A window of opportunity had opened up for Vincentus, and he had taken it. With a thankful smile, Sinadelle had accepted the option of becoming somewhat of an apprentice to Vince. She had exceeded his expectations, and the warlock had been nearly blown away by how intelligent the young girl was, and how quickly she learned the concepts that, as a student, he had struggled with. He was convinced that she was something of a child prodigy.

The two eventually made their way to Stormwind, and now reside there as temporary residents in a small building, rented from their earned funds until he can return the young mage to her father.

Preparations for NorthrendEdit

The Voice of TruthEdit

He laid awake for the fifth night in a row, sky-blue eyes staring at the ceiling-boards. They had begun to make small shifting patterns, as if the wood had a life of its own. Vincentus closed his eyes again, hoping the sounds would dissipate. They were opened immediately. The voices had grown imensely stronger, sounding much like a whirlwind invading his mind whenever he attempted to rest it.

You possess insurmountable skill, Vincentus. All these years you've fought a battle on not two planes, but three, and not one has defeated you think we do not know what you've done? A true master of his craft is what we must have amongst us.. he can give you anything you want, Vincentus. Revenge, lust.. He has everything you could ever dream of, and for such a small cost.

"Kel'thuzad was a fool."

Vincentus sat up slowly, pulling his knees in to drop his arms upon them, head upon his arms. Not for a moment could he close his eyes without hearing the same things, over and over again. A small noise made the warlock tilt his head towards it. Trasius's snoring from the cot nearby. Perhaps the mage did not hear it-- or else he was too drunk to understand. Vince sighed, letting the voices attempt to convince him again.


When persistance pays off!

"I can't sleep." Genevive had been stirred awake by the small raven-haired mage in training shaking gently on her shoulder. The older mage sat up slowly, patting the empty spot on the bed beside her. Sinadelle climbed up to sit beside her, sighing as Genevive began to play with her hair absentmindedly.

"You're not hearing those little voices too, are you?" Genevive asked quietly. Sinadelle nodded, swallowing hard. The older mage pulled her into a tight embrace as tears began to slide down her cheeks.

"They're scaring me, Gen...please, just make them go away...They say they're going to hurt people! I don't want them to take you away!!"

"Shh, darling. You're safe here. Don't listen to them. It's just their way of trying to scare you, hun." Sinadelle turned around, watery eyes searching hard into Genivive's.

"They told me my father was dead...that he's been lying all this time.." Genivive's voice was caught hard in her throat. She couldn't breathe, or think of a response, and it showed. Sinadelle dropped her head into the mage's bossom, shoulders shaking. "Why..."

"I'm sorry, Sinadelle."