Riaan

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High Templar Riaan Hanaador
Affiliations	The Argent Crusade, The Protectors, distantly with the Grand Alliance
Age	26, 003 (Appears mid to late thirties, early forties in human measurement.)
Occupation	High Templar of the Argent Crusade
Training	Twenty five millenia plus of physical conditioning and battle, along with use of the Light
Current Residence	The Argent Vanguard, Icecrown
Known Family	Nyyght Ravenwillow-Hanaador (spouse); Anyai Hanaador (daughter); Alric Melanar-Silverhelm (godson); Rakeaus Amberdrake (adopted son); Armadeus Amberdrake (adopted grandson)
Alignment	Neutral Good
Height	9'0"
Weight	~1350 lbs. (unarmored), ~3250 lbs. (armored)
Eye / Hair Color	Blue / Black

In personality, Riaan is as close as one might come to the stereotypical 'gentle giant.' While he appears intimidating, particularly when garbed in full armor as he often is, his immense, somewhat brutish exterior conceals the equally massive and noble heart that beats within. He is slow to anger and slower still to reach a resolution by any means other than peaceful ones; however, in those rare occasions when his patience and temper reach their limits, he is a fearsome and implacable opponent that will not cease until he has ground the aggressor into dust with his bare hands and scattered them to the winds. As a rather aloof sort in the company of those he does not know, and a quiet advisor and mediator among those he does, he values his few true friends, and would willingly set himself between them and death if the need arose.

Humble Beginnings

Born on the eredar homeworld of Argus, hailing from a long lineage of soldiers, it seemed that Riaan's life was wholly intended to be that of a warrior. He experienced a prodigious rate of growth throughout his youth, making him easily twice as tall and broad as many of his peers at a given point, which served to cement his already fortified position as an able fighter, and leading to his induction into the Argussian military well in advance of many eredar of similar age. Though seen as 'inexperienced' by many of the older veterans, he nevertheless managed to rise swiftly in the ranks, soon matching and even surpassing many of those who had shown him disdain; first as a commander of a squadron within a garrison, then of that garrison itself, and finally of the entire subsection of the city, within the, relatively speaking, fleeting period of a century and a half. Such a feat had been nearly unheard of since his father, Hanaador, several centuries before, and this prowess, in addition to his soft-spoken and reserved nature, served to gradually gain the respect of the stubborn elder warriors.

The Exodus

Serving with pride and skill as a peacekeeper of Mac'Aree, the peace that dominated Argus in the eyes of Riaan, and so many others, was soon to be torn asunder. Curious as to the pact of Kil'jaeden and Archimonde to the titan, Sargeras, he very nearly succumbed to the lure of the power promised to them by the Legionlord, whose intentions were then unknown. However, there had been one event unaccounted for: Velen's dissent. Persuaded by the Prophet's words by way of his father, Riaan chose to abandon all he had known in favor of living on devoid of the perverse corruption that would come as a result of their bargain. He travelled with them to that peak, on the solstice of the year, and so was to witness firsthand the true depravity of the twisted titan's will. Watching with horror as his mutated bretheren scaled the mountain's slopes after them, murder clearly their intention, the great warrior was unable to bear it and fainted; and when he awoke, it was to an alien surrounding, that of the great naaru ship now known as Oshu'gun. No longer would they be eredar, to be associated with demons and Sargeras. They would be known as the draenei. The exiled ones.

A New Path

It was not long until their savior, the naaru known as K'ure, came to the still-young Riaan's attention, and almost immediately became the subject of his burning, insatiable curiosity. How, he wondered, had the mysterious but obviously benevolent being managed to repel the man'ari? The answer, though nebulous, came from the naaru: it was the Holy Light that had guarded them. Captivated, Riaan and a small group of other draenei learned from K'ure of the enigmatic Light.

Guided by the naaru for the many millenia they fled across the cosmos, with Sargeras' Burning Legion ever pursuing them, those magi among them became the first anchorites of their people, and the warriors, such as he, walked the path of the vindicator. Bestowed with a suit of enchanted armor and the hammer he christened Kure'kul, both of which he bears to this day, armed only with his skill at combat and his unshakable resolution, Riaan eagerly embraced his newfound faith, sworn to bring the blessings of the Light to whomever wished them, to fight against those who would bring blight and suffering.

Draenor: Salvation At Last?

After the several millenia-long cycle of settling on a world, living in peace for a time, uprooting a certain inkling of demonic presence that prompted them to flee, and watching they that had planted the source consume it in flame, his people narrowly escaping, Riaan continued to carry out his new-found duties as a vindicator. Thus his life continued, as normal as it might possibly have been, until there came the eventual, natural interruption to the loop.

Something, he knew, had gone wrong....and before he could think of quite what it was, there was a jarring impact that shook Oshu'gun to the core. Wreckage fell from the ceiling of the great ship, crushing or impaling many of the other draenei on the spot with sheer weight or on jagged edges. It may have been mere minutes....or hours....or even days, but eventually the terrible occurrence came to an end. Slowly winding his way through the rubble, the warrior was struck dumb as a bright midday sun assaulted his eyes; then they cleared, and he could not quite believe them. Nor, apparently, could the others that had already found their ways out, Velen among them, as they stared across sprawling, green plains, pockmarked with clefts of great depths, hills that grew to mighty mountains standing in the distance.

For a while, they were in awe....and then suddenly, it gave way to pain to those attuned to the Light as they were. It was then that they noticed, with a sickening disappointment, that K'ure was not present....and with this came the realization that it was his own suffering that they felt now. He had been gravely injured in the crash, as it was now apparent that it must have been, so grievously that he could not mend nor free himself. Pausing for a moment to mourn their fallen ally, the draenei now turned their attention to what lay ahead; without Oshu'gun, they were effectively stranded here, on this strangely peaceful planet. At Velen's order, they salvaged what they could from the wreckage, and seeking out a break in the nearest clefts, established two posts; one, named Halaa, became a sanctum for scholars, and the other, called Telaar, where Riaan chose to settle, a trading and hunting village.

A Shattered Hope

It was not long before his people began to cautiously extend their influence on the planet, which they chose to call 'Draenor'; in their tongue, the Refuge of Exiles. And so of course it was also that they eventually came to find the other indigenous species, the orcs, thus establishing trade between them, which eventually grew to a distant sort of friendship, and the ogres, with whom relations were not quite so peaceable. Though it may have been a tenuous existence, with the restless brutes, driven by their gronn overlords, surrounding them on all sides in what they, through the orcs, now knew was called Nagrand, the small invasion parties were easily repelled, which allowed them to retain some semblance of tranquility, when compared to the past several millenia. This fashion continued for several decades, through at least two new generations of orcs, until at last the disruptions began once more. First, it was only small, isolated incidents; hunting parties found slain, with a calculated force simply not possible from the ogres; and then the troubling reports grew more and more severe, until at last the word came from Terokkar Forest: the orcs were on the warpath. Telmor had fallen, and with it the mighty General Hanaador. Devastated by the news of his father's death, Riaan marshalled what he could of Telaar's warriors and vindicators, ready to defend it with his life....which he very nearly did. The day dawned red, red as blood, from the flames of orcish casters laying waste to all that stood in their path of draenei make. And then they stood at the first bridge....and as the first ranks of bloodthirsty berserkers poured across, the horrified guardians of the village fell by the score, buildings collapsing into piles of rubble. As Riaan attempted to rally his troops, some of this rubble collapsed onto him, burying him beneath a great pile of stone where he lay, injured, and unable to aid the defenders. Several hours later, he awoke; and shifting aside the wreckage, beheld the terrible sight of Telaar in flames. Bands of orcish plunderers roamed, searching for survivors, torturing the men, kidnapping the women, killing even the children. And it was then that Riaan's full Light-empowered might came to be known; unleashed in a torrent by the sheer fury that surged within him at the sights, he flew into a killing rage. He brought forth a furious reckoning upon the orcs that day, brutally slaughtering any of them that crossed his path, a storm of blood and carnage that was unrivalled by the slaughter of the Telaari. Ultimately, he escaped to the wilds; and when he at last recovered his senses and licked his wounds, such as his left eye, taken by an orcish hatchet, Riaan vowed to never unleash such terrible power again.

Here, There Be Demons....

Soon, the reason behind the aggression became known. The Legion, for so long absent from their lives, had found the exiles once again; and this time, it seemed undeniable that Kil'jaeden would at last have his sworn vengeance. One by one, the draenei's settlements fell before the combined orcish and demonic might, until at last Shattrath itself, the greatest of their cities, fell to their savage tactics. They were all forced to flee into the trackless bogs of Zangarmarsh....those that were chosen to accompany Velen, of course. Riaan had not desired to; better that he should be slain in the defense of what remained than to live with the loss of everything. However, he was persuaded, and unhappily bade his final goodbyes to old friends that had been selected, and accepted their fate in doing so, to stay behind. The times were difficult, as he was forced to watch the exile of the Broken, among them some that had been his finest soldiers, such as the Vindicator Nobundo; the eventual sundering of the world that sent many more of his kin to their deaths; and the invasion of immense, foreign hosts, such as the Illidari and their allies. It would not suffice to say that even Riaan's faith began to waver; and then there at last came a glimmer of hope for them all. Though K'ure's life had long ago been extinguished, there was now a familiar aura about the shattered pieces of a planet, more powerful than that naaru's had ever been. The others had come....others that were the elite among them all, within whom the Light shined brighter than any of them had sensed. Venturing forth at last from the miserable exile within exile, accompanied now by Broken shaman that had been accepted back into the fold, the draenei came at last to the region, once the Plains of Farahlon, that had become a wreckage of arcane magic due to the presence of the Illidari blood elves. Quietly, they made their way to the very edges of the world, where at last they saw the object of their search. The five great satellites of Tempest Keep, within which the naaru worked to establish themselves on this world, where the Light was needed most. They took in the draenei, and allowed them sanctuary in the Keep itself, in a museum-like wing known as the Exodar.

Faith Rekindled

Not long after this, the naaru, convinced by Velen, worked to spirit the Exodar to a place of safety for the exiles. However, in the absence of many of the naaru, Tempest Keep soon fell under siege; its presence had not gone unnoticed by Kael'thas or his servants. The Eye was captured, as were the Botanica, the Arcatraz, and the Mechanar, leaving only the Exodar, guarded tooth and nail by desperate draenei. While the warriors held the tide of enemies, others worked furiously to detach the satellite and make their escape; and though they eventually succeeded, it was too late, as blood elven spellbreakers and magisters broke the line, interfering with it all, doing anything to prevent the Exodar from escaping. In the end, it was they that failed....in that mission, at least. The Exodar's link with the greater satellite of the Keep was severed, sending it plunging through space in a mad maelstrom of light. Once again, time became a nebulous thing for the Exiled Ones, as they continued to fight what elves had not been able to flee the ship as it separated, and once again this was shattered by catastrophe. Escaping into the pods built into the ship as a safety mechanism, Riaan and the others prepared for the once-again imminent crash. It would be many months before several of them awoke....and once more found themselves upon a strange new world. This world, though they did not know it at the time, had withstood the Legion's onslaught, not once, but twice; this world had the potential for new allies to be unveiled....and old enemies to be rediscovered. This world....was Azeroth.

Recently...

Following an absence of several weeks, and presumed dead during that period due to events at a Scourge stronghold not long before his "funeral", Riaan made something of a triumphant return to the fields of the frozen north. Now among the upper echelons of the Argent Crusade as its High Templar, Riaan utilizes his immense power in the name of the Crusade, even following as close to a conclusion as the war against the Scourge could come to. He continues to show a great reluctance in associating with the Grand Alliance, be it by serving as an emissary, aiding them in battle, or even entering their cities; his respect for the leaders of the Alliance has rekindled somewhat, however, following recent events. He continues to devote himself as entirely as ever to his self-assigned task of doing what he can to aid the world at large. Yet, those closest to him would notice something peculiar: even while he behaves as normal, there is an odd, almost feeble aura about him, as though he were not truly whole.