An'delor the Fleshcrafter

**Age**
 **Titles**
 **Born**
 **Resides**
 **Allegiance**
 **Status**

## Gaze of Darkness

The unliving gaze of An'delor the Fleshcrafter reveals nothing of the elf he once was, in a life all but forgotten as the distant thoughts of another elf. The demise of the Spellbreaker Andellor Suncrest paved the way for something far greater, the shaper of flesh giants, scourge of the Drakkari, and the legacy of Prince Navarius. The fall of Arthas Menethil has only emboldened Andellor, now among the few leaders of the surviving San'layn. Patiently biding his time, constructing new flesh monstrosities, rallying the lesser scourge to himself. Emboldened by growing motivation in the Frozen Throne, the shackles upon his mind hang loosely, allowing the San'layn latitude to apply his immense skill with necromancy, runes and bladed weapons, a silver tongue and a cunning mind for his own glory and that of the Lich King. The Frozen Throne needs him.

## What Was

An'delor Suncrest was born to humble parents over seven hundred years ago in the Thalassian village of Tranquilen. A bright young man, he excelled at spellwork though he relished swordplay, featuring a speed and cunning uncommon in elves of such strength. Magic was interesting, but the extent to which so many relied upon it he deemed a grave flaw. Inspired by his king, Anasterian Sunstrider, as a young man Andellor began training as battlemage, surrounding himself in fiery wards, infusing his own weapon with unnatural speed and precision as foes, most often Amani trolls, were weighted, slowed and lethargic before he ended their existence.

Quel'Thalas was generally peaceful in those days, but the Amani threat loomed eternal, and the gifted spellbreaker secured a role guarding caravans through southern Quel'Thalas into Lordaeron. The routes were often dull, though with an appreciation for the trolls ambush tactics his mind was kept sharp, seeking out any sign for their presence. At last they struck a convoy of runestones destined for Caer Darrow, over two dozen trolls surrounding his convoy after a barrage of poisoned arrows. An'delor's swift refelexes saved two of the Magisters, deflecting their weapons with a well-timed abjuration rune, removing the troll leader's head from his shoulders and pushing the others outward, allowing the magisters time to recover and strike down the vile creature with their deadly magics.

Creditted with saving lives, Andellor was accepted into the prestigous Spellbreakers and took eagerly to learning how to deprive foes of their vital magics, nullifying spells and claiming their power for himself. Aspiring to a position with the Royal Guard, he came to be well respected among the order, and saw heavy combat during the Second War, harassing troll and orc alive as Eversong burned, slowing their advance to allow time for the shielding of SIlvermoon, and rescuing elves trapped among the onslaught.

The Third War though was unlike anything he had seen, and rattled Andellor to his core. Endless hordes of enemies that did not breathe, did not see. Assigned to defend King Anasterian, Andellor was deeply troubled seeing the king he so admired cut down by Frostmourne, but knowing such power beyond any of them, he fought on against the lesser undead in the south of Quel'Danas, eventually making it back to what remained of Silvermoon where he welcomed the arrival of Prince Kael'Thas. Many held reservations about the young prince, Andelarr included, though he saw the burning desire for retribution in the young man's eyes, and pledged himself to the new king's side, joining the attack on Northrend under Kael and Illidan.

Andellor was among those tasked with securing the cavernous Azjol Nerub, though due to the massive size of the place, did not encounter Arthas passing and became bogged down alongside Magistrix Ferill Sin'drassil. The pair eventually made their way to the surface in Dragonblight, unaware the battle had ended in failure and the fleet had departed.

## Rise of a Blood Knight

Separated from other elven survivors and without a safe refuse, Ferill and Andellor managed to hold off the swarms of ghouls upon the tundra, but their slaughter of his minions in time led Arthas to them. Knowing he stood no chance, Andellor's last thought as a living elf was a measure of satisfaction he would die the same way as Anasterian Sunstrider.

When he rose in the Crimson Hall of Icecrown Citadel, Andelorr felt only a ravenous hunger, a hunger that consumed his mind and permitted thought of nothing else. A troll bound before him and hearing only a female voice saying "Feeed", he buried his teeth in the Drakkari's neck, invigorated by the taste of blood, gorging as it ran from his lips. Sated in a way he had not been since the Sunwell fell, Andellor at the time was unaware he'd no choice but to obey. Nothing else crossed his mind but to do as was commanded to ensure the gift of blood continued to flow, to keep the hunger at bay.

Relearning his magical skills, Andellor took naturally to slicing flesh with his new runeblade and animating it with what seemed a natural extension of the arcane arts. The ghouls served his task, and commanding them with his will felt nearly as exhillirating as consuming lich-decanted blood orbs. Now a San'layn, he was assigned to a Blood Prince named Navarius, whose skill animating flesh vastly exceeded even his own, if Andellor's swordplay was better. Together they slew countless trolls and many lumbering flesh giants, piecing the remains together to form the largest undead the world had ever seen, Thyrm the mightiest among the flesh giants.

## A New Hunger

The scourge washing over the world seemed inevitable to him even as enemies closed in around them. Recalled to Icecrown Citadel as the siege began, Andellor feasted on blood and relished the slaughter of the coming foes. It was not to be though, for as the lower citadel was overrun An'delor and Ferill were ordered to Howling Fjord to rally a group of Vyrkul and a number of Valkyr among them. Ferill had acted as the Lich King's speaker to them previously.

The pair were ordered to return to Icecrown with the Lich King's allies and to fall upon the enemy's lines as they scattered, after their inevitable defeat. However while crossing Dragonblight, the grasp of the Lich King faltered, then faded as his defeat came, the driving compulsion to obey was gone. He and Ferill looked at each other as they had not since Azjol-Nerub, though with their own wills neither had a clear sense of what actions to take without the driving purpose they had long taken for granted.

Without a motivating drive, there was only hunger which they sated somewhat on the flesh of a Ka'luak. Soon Bolvar Fordragon placed the Helm of Domination onto his head, and for the first time in years, An'delar laughed. He roared at the weakness of the figure compared to Arthas, struggling to contain even the simpler ghouls, let alone the intellect of himself and Ferill.

They traveled to Zul'drak, where Zeramus was found nearly abandoned, what ghouls there easily brought under their sway. An'delor now gathered minions, and collected essences from trolls and scattered members of the races to the south, for even greater flesh constructs, this time for his own ambition and conquest. At Ferill's advising, they did not oppose the nascent Lich King, but rather travelled to the citadel and vowed to help him control the massive scourge army. The only confine was that they not leave Northrend, and such allowed them the freedom to do as they wished, to grow their strength for what was to come.

An'delor is emboldened by the recent militarism of the lich king, and together with Ferill, they've returned to Naxanar, commanding a growing army of ghouls and constructs, joined by a few Darkfallen stragglers and a lich, seeking allies for bathing Azeroth in the gift of undeath...