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Zèphyr is a human mage formerly of the Kirin Tor. He spent most of his adolescence in Dalaran, shut away in the Violet Citadel studying. Now he seeks to help others and advance his skills, without the overbearing Kirin Tor restricting him.


  • Friendly and welcoming, he likes to meet new people and learn from them.
  • Often uses humor to mask emotions, or bridge conversation.
  • He is one who seeks knowledge, and will put learning ahead of other priorities.
  • Is always willing to pass on knowledge.
  • While normally quite kind and well mannered, when it comes to dealing with Orcs, his temper can flare wildly.
  • He will always intervene if there are innocents in danger.


A Peaceful morning in Southshore before the Battle of Hillsbrad Foothills.

The First and Second Wars

Born in Southshore during the First War. His mother died during childbirth. He was raised by his father, a fisherman, like many of the locals. He was barely three when refugees came looking for sanctuary after the Siege of Stormwind. Everything from his childhood in Southshore was a blur to him. Because of the trauma he had suffered, he couldn't even remember his name. What he could remember, was the horror of war...

The Battle of Hillsbrad Foothills

It began when war landed at the shores of Hillsbrad. He was moving at a brisk pace that day. As a boy he would often greet his father at the docks after a long venture. Reaching the town, the boy froze in terror. The sky began to blacken, as billowing smoke rose from flaming boats at sea. Villagers rushed past in attempt to flee the coming conflict. Succumbing to his fears he simply fell to the ground, unable to run or cry out for help. Soon the ground began to tremble as sounds of clinking metal, thunderous footsteps, and hellish battle cries rang through the port town. The memory begins to blur again. Suddenly he realized that he was huddled up against a building, surrounded by fire, ruins, and corpses. The smell of smoke, and death.. was putrid. He heard an animalistic cry, and looked up to see a dark green orc standing in front him. The orcish warrior towered over him, standing taller than any man in the village. In its hands, an enormous battleaxe, covered in blood from a fresh kill. The orc raised his axe ready to strike. In a futile attempt to protect himself, he raised his hands and shouted at the orc. Perhaps he thought he would awaken some power? He often fantasized about unlocking some mystical power that would turn him into a hero. Maybe this would be the trigger, after all, his story couldn't end here.. could it?

Arch-Mage Khadgar arrives on the battlefield.

"Stay down child!" Bellowed an aged voice, as a cascade of arcane missiles slammed into the surprised orc. The orc was eviscerated by the arcane energy and thrown into a nearby building. As the dust settled, a surprisingly spry, elderly mage knelt down before him.

"Are you unharmed young one?" the mage asked, reaching his hand out to help the boy up. "Quickly now, this is a dangerous place." With a snap of his fingers the mage opened a swirling vortex of energy. Through the portal one could see a vibrant city, with spiraling white towers and violet hued glass. Was this a dream? he thought pausing at the mouth of the portal. He turned back to see the mage swirling magical energies around himself. He stood watching as the mage commanded the arcane with such fluidity and ease, it was an elegant display of might. With a wave of his hands, the mage froze dozens in place and then finished each immediately with an arcane explosion. There was no hesitation in his command of magic, none of the orcs could even get near before being swiftly dealt with. This man was just like the hero he dreamed of! 

"Khadgar! We must make haste! The Horde is advancing towards Durnholde Keep!" Another man in gleaming armor exclaimed. This new man carried a battle scarred shield that held the visage of a lion. The mage, Khadgar, turned back to the mesmerized Zèphyr and told him he would be safe with the others in Dalaran. With a bit of a push the world seemed to drop out beneath him, everything seemed to swirl around him. His stomach churned and his vision blurred. Then suddenly he was on his hands and knees, a well bricked street below him. As he looked up he was surrounded by various colors of cloth. Many robed individuals gathered around the collapsed boy.

"Master! He sent another one!" A woman yelled, her voice distant from the crowd surrounding him. All of the stress rushed back to the boy causing him to black out.

Arrival at Dalaran

Dalaran, a city full of magic, and history. If one wanted to learn of the arcane, there was no better place.

He was soon taken to an orphanage. Many caretakers asked him about himself. He couldn't recall simple things like his name or his family's. In fact whenever he thought of his father, it put him in a depressive state. After a short while he started having flashes of memory. He remembered that his name started with a "Z", but nothing else. Eventually a young girl, another orphan, approached him about it. She had a bright and cheerful demeanor, and didn't treat him like he was someone who needed help. They became fast friends. One day she came running, clutching a large leather bound book.

"I found the perfect one!" Her expression showed such glee. It melted away any negativity in anyone near her, even in one as troubled as himself. "Zèphyr means gentle wind," The young girl smiled when she opened the book. "See! Don't you think its a perfect fit, It even starts with Z!" She directed him at a definition of the name

"Zèphyr," he whispered, "A gentle wind.." At that moment it felt.. right. His father relied on the wind to guide him on the seas, he would also rely on it to guide himself. He adopted the moniker and never looked back!

Dark Portal

While he lived in the city, he was constantly alert for any news of his savior. If there were any tales of Khadgar to be told, he was quick to learn them. Eventually news of Khadgar destroying the Dark Portal reached him. He was ecstatic. Those bloodthirsty orcs were driven back!  

Khadgar would eventually come back to Dalaran. This was his chance. He would ask to become his apprentice so he could fulfill his dream! When Khadgar returned he was pleased to see that the boy was alive and well. However, he vehemently turned down the proposal. 

"I'm sorry, but I can not." Khadgar apologized, lowering himself so their gazes met evenly. "You are far too young to follow where I tread." Reaching out, he placed his arm on the boys shoulder. "Perhaps one day, we will speak of this again." He gave Zèphyr a soft smile and rustled his hair. This was the spark that lit a fire under the young boy. After today, his dreams would be filled with magic.

He would sneak in daily to the Violet Citadel over the next two years. He would take any tome he could, and would attempt to decipher the secrets contained within. This ended up getting him in much trouble with governing bodies such as the Kirin Tor and the Council. His days went on like this for a time.. until news of a great sacrifice made its way to Dalaran.

Khadgar and the Sons of Lothar, in an attempt to close the Dark Portal for good, sealed themselves on the other side of it. He became depressed once again, he was proud of his hero, but also conflicted. He knew that his desire to train under the Arch Mage was selfish when compared to saving thousands of lives. In the end it solidified his resolve. He would become a mage.. an Arch-Mage. One that would have made Khadgar proud.

The Kirin Tor, an order of magi that study and record all of humanity's magic and artifacts.

The Kirin Tor

For the next decade or so he dedicated himself to his learning. He was accepted into the Kirin Tor as an apprentice, and used their resources to absorb all of the knowledge he could. He shut himself away from the world for long periods of time in the Violet Citadel. He researched all 8 schools of magic, not wanting to favor any one school. He even found a dusty tome hidden behind an old shelf that depicted a forbidden 9th school. Necromancy... nasty bit of business, but knowledge could help confront it.

The Council and other members of the Kirin Tor questioned his insatiable desire for knowledge. Afraid that he might "get too ambitious", they would constantly hamper with his attempts at practical usage. If he couldn't practice his newly researched spells, then he would put twice the effort into studying. He was so absorbed in his studies, that he was oblivious to the events going on in the world. His greed for knowledge, and stubborn overseers ultimately left him unprepared for the events to come in just a few years.

The Third War and The Destruction of Dalaran

"Let the echoes of doom resound across this wretched world, that all who live may hear them and despair." - Archimonde

The day came... The Third War, and the destruction of Dalaran under the might of the demon Archimonde. Zèphyr was there when the Violet Citadel collapsed. Completely unable to effectively cast the powerful spells he researched, he found himself in a deadly situation. All he could do was theorize advanced spell craft.  

The city quickly falling to ruin all around, he scrambled gripping the tome he was carrying tightly. Screams and the sound of crumbling stone crashed about. The dust that kicked up into the air stung his eyes. Everywhere he looked there were dead mages, either crushed by decimated buildings or from choking on the air that was thick with debris. The scene reminded him of... Southshore. He thought he had changed, thought he was strong enough to stop these things from happening. Even surrounded by many powerful mages it wasn't enough. Utterly defeated he gave up and resigned to his fate. 

"What are you doing!?" A familiar voice cried out before shoving Zèphyr to safety. An extremely loud crash sounded from where he once stood, and a large gust of air burst against his back. Slowly he turned around, still in shock. Then he saw her.. it was the same girl who gave him his name. She had pushed him to safety but in the process was pinned underneath the rubble of a collapsed building. She was barely alive, sounding short gasps for breath. 

"No.." Zèphyr trembled, "I'm sorry.. if I hadn't.." 

"It's okay.." The girl managed to cough out, "Just promise me that you wont die here, become.. become a great mage.. and let the wind... guide.. you."  She faded quickly.. 

"I promise.." Zèphyr said clutching her hand, tears starting to roll over unto his cheek. On that day he made a vow that he would never run or let another innocent die because of him again. He would never forget her or her kindness, and would strive to hold the same virtue. Having made this promise, he swiftly made his way out of the city.  

After the Fall up to Year 25

He soon learned that Prince Arthas had led of the siege of Dalaran, and saw firsthand how devastating the scourge had become. The Kirin Tor asked him to stay to help reclaim and rebuild Dalaran, however he thought his talents were being stifled, so he left. The next 5 years were spent wandering from place to place, going wherever the winds took him. During his travels he would hear what occurred at the Battle of Mount Hyjal. Eventually he came to find himself near Stormwind, specifically in Northshire.. Where he heard they were having troubles, and were in need of aid.. 

You may know him if..

  • You lived in Southshore from the Years 1 - 6 (If you did, and your character recognizes me. Please use any name that starts with "Z", as my character doesn't remember his old name.)
  • You were an Orphan in Dalaran from the Years 6 - 20
  • You were a member of the Kirin Tor up to Year 20
  • You frequented the Violet Citadel before its destruction

This is the Timeline that I use:

OOC Information

My name on the Grobbulus Discord is Zèphyr, if you want to reach out for me for anything.

I am always up for RP'ing with anyone! I will be IC most of the time when in game, feel free to come up and have a casual RP conversation with me whenever!

If you want to plan something out, please Whisper or DM me!

Journals (To be posted after release):èphyr

Image sources: