Born in the town of Pyrewood, Gilneas, to Sean and Eleonora Dempsey tend years

before the third war. Born of humble birth, Ithaeriel was raised with no higher
asperations than to work the land as his forefathers before him. At age 5 he would
spend most of his time helping his father in the fields, his free time spent off
wandering the woods or fishing.

By age 10 all hell had broken loose. The country at civil war between the liberation
front (Crowleys Rebels) and Greymane's Loyalists. He'd seen the corruption of the
nobles with the building of the Northgate Wall, effectively cutting his land off from
the safety and protection of the southern empire. Enraged by this he made his way
to the local tavern and enlisted claiming his age to be 14, his father a proud man of
the people full heartedly approved. Ith would be assigned to the infamous Gilneas
Brigade, assigned with the task of helping with Lady Proudmoore's evacuation of Kul
Tiras.

Ten Years Pass:

No longer the bright eyed boy on a quest to right the wrong of the world. Young Ith
spent his most of his youth helping with the construction of Theramore Isle, his days
spent learning of engineering from the Gnomes who would come visiting, his night
spent learning the ways of the blade.
Upon reaching the 18 he left his new home, setting sail for Stormwind to enlist with
the Stormwind Guard, to be stationed in Northshire Abbey.

Two Years Pass:

Continuing his service with the Stormwind Guard, Ithaeriel was sent with his
regiment through the Dark Portal. He would spend the next two years stationed in
Honor Hold Hellfire Peninsula on rare occasions being sent out to Shattrath City for
supplies.

Two Years Pass:

Enlisting under the newly formed Argent Crusade, due much to the fact of his
childhood dream of living out the tales of glory, honor, and all such chivalrous ways
of the Paladin. Ironically enough this dream would never be fulfilled but at least he
was able to live through his dreams of knighthood for a time...until the Wrathgate.
Though sheer luck or stupidity Ith's regiment was held back, forced to hold the line
whilst the crusade pushed forward. They would arrive a few days later to a scene of
unimaginable carnage. The young 24 year-old would never be the same. An
intense hatred for the Forsaken for their apparent betrayal would stay with him for
the rest of his life, a cool seething rage tempered only by the fact his mentors kept

a close eye on him and the reminder of his few encounters with the overzealous
forces of Scarlet Crusade.

One Year Passes:

After the events of Wrathgate :
Journal Entry: What... what was the point of all of it; the bloodshed, the loss? How
long has it been since I thought of home. Of my kinsmen, of my mother roasting a
fowl over a spit fire, of my father working the field? Have I become so steeped in
blood and battle that it stains my very bones, perhaps my very soul? No...no I think
not, Highlord Fordring says to trust in the holy light, that we shall press on and
achieve our goal. I...I am not certain, as a child I always dreamed of the glorious life
of a paladin...even now I still dream, alas it appears it will never be so. I have never
heard the call of the light no matter how I pray. I have never felt the light's grace
upon me...the Highlord says the light loves us all. I however wonder if I am
damned...can a man so soiled in blood commune with perfection... No, no I think
not, my blood sings for battle, for the revenge of those I lost, for justice for all the
wrongs in my life. The Highlord councils patience, that the light will come in
time...but tell me then, how does the light justify the Nobles who built a wall though
our homeland? How is it this powerful light let my comrades die...? No when this is
over I will return home. I shall see my father again and hope he is proud of all I've
done. I shall find land and settle down...

Two Years Pass:

Journal Entry:
Week 1:
Home, how I longed to see it...to make my way back to the land of my birth... A
fool's hope, a fool's dream. Time as they says changes all things. Upon my return
from Northrend we were dubbed heroes...Bah, a hero has something to be proud of,
what is there to take pride in? The fact that we stopped the lich king....no no I fear
we've only delayed it further...if the rumor's from the troops are true another sits on
his throne...no, I set my eyes and mind to home. I found a mage willing to send me
there via portal...and for what, to find my father incarcerated, branded as a traitor
to the realm, my mother dead during the defense of Pyrewood? What hell has
Greymane rot on our nation? The Forsaken at our door, beasts who feed on us
within...no, no I fear that I will not be able to lay down my blade and pick up the
plow. No, even if it means joining with the bastards responsible for all of this
madness, I will not see my homeland fall.
Week 2:
How strange it is...how hollow I find myself as I write this entry...my father dead at
the hands of the beasts...monstrous things, like wolves on two legs. How strange it
is to think as I look at my hand, no claw, that I've become one of these

abominations...still if it allows me to rend these Forsaken bastards limb from limb,

then a monster I shall more than willingly become. It's curious, I wonder if this is
how Arthas felt staring at that damned blade?

Two Years Pass:

Journal Entry:
Thanks to the Elves I've managed to learn to control my rage...though I still feel it,
the monster lurking beneath the surface waiting to burst forward and slake its thirst
with blood. I...I won't deny that I've found it useful...truth be told I find myself more
comfortable in that form, changing only back to the man I was when it is demanded
of me. I wonder perhaps am I going mad. To reenlist after the cataclysm, to hunt
down those damn Twilight Hammer bastards, and now this...a rescue mission...I fear
I am no longer a sane man. Still it's a cause be it just or not it must be seen
through. I suppose that on the bright side it's a chance to see new sights that man
has never laid eyes on before...perhaps, perhaps it will not be as haunting as past
campaigns. I am stationed to ship out with the Oathsworn Vanguard...I only hope
this will go as smoothly as this Mac said it would be...

Two Years Pass:

Journal Entry: Draenor...it just had to be feckin Draenor...the only plus to this
nonsense being that at least it's not the hell hole I remember. Truth be told it's
beautiful...though I'm not sure if that more due to the women of the Vanguard or the
land itself. We've set up shop in Shadowmoon Valley, honestly not much to say
other than it's always feckin dark here...always light forsaken night. Still...it's better
than the last gig...Pandaria was hell...we...we shouldn't have been there.
We...no...no I can't believe it was all for not. *Sighs* Truth is should I get my hands
on Hellscream I will tear out his damn throat...though I fear Thrall may have dibs on
the matter...still...there's work to be done. Battles to fight, people to save...perhaps
war never changes. Still, as my father would say, "Nemo vir est qui mundum non
reddat meliorem?"