World Map: Starstriker

Arise, Dal'Melorn

Despite his world being broken, shattered, and falling into darkness, by the ones his people loathed, he continued. 

Power.                                                                                                                                                          Knowledge. 

The same kind that destroyed his home,  he sought it. The price to pay, was to shed all your attachments, undo your heart.

The time following the Undead invasion upon Silvermoon City incited a feeling of precariousness within the hearts of it's remaining Citizens. The Scourge took more than just the lives from the Elven people of Quel'Thalas, it took their spirit. Both figuratively and literally. 

An armored figure approached a destroyed caravan cautiously, with a bloodied sunset hued blade drawn, they stepped slowly over the maimed bodies of Undead ghouls and bones. They raised a fist up to halt the squad, of equally lethal looking caliber behind them. 

"Did you hear that?" The voice of a young, but stalwart man voice asked in a hush breath.

"I think so..- What did YOU hear?" A squad member replied back.

The armored man reached over with a gauntlet onto the caravan wagon's door, to lift it up. The carriage itself was in terrible condition from the attack. Claw marks, blood stained the walls and broken pieces of wood and glass were all over the dead grass. 

"It sounded like a.." The figure heaved the door open, cracking the hinges off with a loud snap, and tossed it aside. Peering inside the darkness of the passenger seats inside to find-

"..A child crying.."

Inside the caravan was a child, sniffling and trembling in the corner and when they looked up at the figure from the darkness, a pair of Runic blue eyes shone through the shadows. 

The armored silhouette lended forth an armored hand to the child in darkness. "It's okay, we're not here to hurt you.." but the youngling stayed in the shadows, tears flowing from their glowing eyes- unable to create a word. The man reached into his bag, and pulled out an insignia, bearing the mark of regal golden wings on a crimson red background. The insignia of Silvermoon. "We're here to help you.."

The child slowly crawled out of the recesses of the caravan, attempting to wipe the everflow of tears from their face. They were revealed in the moonlight. A young boy, with ruffled and slightly curly flaxen hair that draped down the side of their face shined from the moon, with a fair complexion to match, albeit scratched and bruised- reached out to grab his savior's hand. The young boy stood up, appearing to only be 40 or so years old.. barely a teenager in elf years!

Judging by his eye's and hair and ears, the Silvermoon Savior saw that this youngling was a High Elf, untouched by the Legion's fel green magic. An uncommon sight around these parts- perhaps his family was inhabiting the area with the Sin'Dorei before they tried to flee?

The man took off his helmet to reveal his face now, shaking his autumn hair back out of his face so that it spiked behind his head then donned a friendly grin upon his face. "The name's Feravel. Feravel Sunshifter." A young blood elf that was nearing out of his teenage years stood before him. Covered in scraps and scrapes himself, it was clear that this Feravel hasn't backed down from many fights. The Silvermoon warrior helped the poor boy out of the carriage, "What's your name, little guy?" 

The child didn't respond at first and seemed to be blankly staring at Feravel. "My-"

The boy's voice was trembling, but still had a tone of regalness to it, unlike Feravel's.

                                                "My name is.. Rayanist.. Starstriker.."