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They once called him Aldarius the Player. Aldarius the Bard. Aldarius the Poisoner. He was born to a lowly family and had a penchant for song, playing a melodic flute his father had carved for him. No one knew who taught Aldarius the beautiful songs he played, but by the age of seven, Aldarius was well-known in his village as a musical prodigy. By the age of thirteen, Aldarius began playing his songs on a mandolin the town had bought him for his birthday, and the youth would travel to nearby towns singing and playing in taverns and faires. The copper young Aldarius earned was well beyond what his family made working the fields, and Aldarius afforded himself many luxuries most children of his age could not fathom. Soon, young Aldarius was sought out by the upper classes, invited to keeps and castles to spin his songs. Yet at the end of the day, retiring from his audiences, Aldarius would lock the door to his room and spin the melodies he played as an infant, songs that would make priests and paladins quake. Aldarius would place the flute in a silk bag and tune his mandolin, and to another song, sing words that no human tongue would recognize. These were the songs of demons. Of the damned. Of the Burning Legion.

By the time the warlock Olderos found Aldarius playing a netherworldly tune in a beer-stained drinking hall, Aldarius was already well-versed in the summoning of imps and void walkers. Olderos knew that this boy, who learned musical mastery from otherworldy creatures in exchange for bringing them to Azeroth, was a natural at the dark arts, and so Olderos took the boy under his wing, and raised him as son and apprentice, teaching him the path that his dark line had passed down for generations.

Aldarius became a great warlock and musician both, studying the sinister arts and working his music into his summoning. To appease his dark masters, Aldarius would poison the minds of his audiences, playing culling songs for noble crowds, and infiltrating fortresses in the guise of a musician, summoning great evils to assassinate sleeping barracks. Aldarius became so effective and so deadly, that he was called upon only for special tasks, spending most of his days in study and musical bliss.

By the age of 60, Aldarius, servant of demons, was yet loyal to the evil he encountered as a child. It was then, however, that the Scourge’s plague swept across Lorderon, and though Aldarius was a potent force, his age and arrogance worked against him. While none have stepped forward to say why, Aldarius too was poisoned by the plague, and despite the knowledge he had gained over the years, Aldarius could not escape death. It was not the end of Aldarius, however, for Aldarius rose into undeath, and though the Scourge believed Aldarius would welcome his continued servitude of the Burning Legion, they were mistaken.

Aldarius woke in the shell of a foreign host. He had not wanted undeath, and had not wanted to give up the life he loved, of playing music to audiences, and walking among his own people. Despite what he had done for the Burning Legion and his dark masters, Aldarius loved mortality and his own people, and now he was reborn as something foul and sick. Aldarius’ rage could not be matched, feeling betrayed by the very beings he served for so many years. They had taken from him his people, his life. But more than that, they had taken from him his passion, for awakened as an undead warlock, he found himself without a jaw, and without a jaw, Aldarius was without song.

When Sylvanas lead her followers to the great Undercity to establish a home for the Forsaken, Aldarius was among them. By then, he was an angry, venomous thing, sick with hatred and worn with battle against demonic oppressors. Aldarius had decided to use his powers as a warlock against those he had served for so long, enslaving lesser demons and forcing them to kill their own. These acts delighted Aldarius, yet he was still empty inside, music floating through his mind, no outlet for him to translate them through voice or instrument. Perhaps Aldarius would have destroyed himself under a shroud of depression had he not heard the song of the Deadhorn one solemn day.

A Tauren, having traveled far to Undercity, spent the early night playing a wooden flute, a familiar melody buried beneath the Tauren’s tune. Aldarius approached the Tauren and sat silently listening. When the Tauren was done, Aldarius clapped, and motioned for the Tauren to pass the flute. Aldarius studied the flute closely, impressed by its design and carving. The Tauren lit a long pipe, speaking to Aldarius as a friend, and instructing Aldarius to work the long pipe down his throat, such that he might join the Tauren in his smoking. The two sat for some hours, as the Tauren played to Aldarius the songs of his tribe, passing the pipe back and forth. By the end of the night, the Tauren engraved his flute with the sign of Sarthau, the Spirit of Shadow and Silence, and handed it to Aldarius as a gift. It was the first time in years that Aldarius felt happy.

As days passed, as the Tauren prepared to leave Undercity, Aldarius visited his new friend to wish him good journeys. To the Tauren, Aldarius gave the flute with the sign of Sarthau back, three new holes in its body, modified to play sweeter song. Below the sign of Sarthau, Aldarius had carved a shadow run of banishment. The Tauren, familiar with the rune, laughed and patted his undead friend on the back. He raised the flute and stumbled with the flute’s modifications, yet managed to squeeze out a solemn tune nonetheless. Aldarius nodded approvingly, tapping the Tauren’s fingers like some old musician teaching their student a new instrument.

When the Tauren returned to the Deadhorn village, beside him was Aldarius the Reborn. In the Deadhorn, Aldarius found peace and purpose. He would teach his new friends the weaknesses of the Burning Legion, and of the dark powers he had learned to control. Through the spirits of the Deadhorn, Aldarius would find communion with his new tribe, his rage dissipating in the natural ways of his Tauren friends.

This is a character originally developed for Blizzard’s World of Warcraft, and specifically, to participate in the Deadhorn Tribe.

First name: Aldarius
Clan: Ashenhoof
Race: Undead
Gender: Male
Age: 60 + 5 years undeath
Class: Warlock
Professions: Mining / Engineering

Physical Description: A decrepit corpse with no eyes or jaw. Unkempt gray hair flickers in the wind, a receding hairline indicative of Aldarius’ mortal age.

Personality: Aldarius is a curmudgeon, short-tempered and nasty with age. He has a fierce hatred of the Burning Legion and all things associated therewith, and in some form, hates himself because of his reliance on the darker arts. Aldarius’ twisted laugh is often heard from his broken form, as though everyone but he is missing some sick joke.

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