Name: Remy LeBeau Alias: Gambit Age: 32 Place of Birth: Louisiana
Powers:
Molecular Acceleration: Remy has the power to take the potential energy stored in an object and convert it to kinetic energy, thus “charging” that item with explosive results. He prefers to charge smaller objects, such as his ever-present playing cards, as the time required to charge them is greatly reduced and they are much easier for him to throw. The only real limitation to this ability is the time required to charge the object. The larger it is, the more time it takes.
Most charging takes place through direct skin contact. The power of his explosions is dependent on the mass of the object he is charging, for example, a charged playing card explodes with the force of a grenade. He typically cannot utilize his powers on living matter or organic molecules.
History:
Born with blazing red eyes, the child that would become Gambit was abandoned shortly after birth, no doubt the generally highly religious and superstitious communities of the Bayou wanting little to do with the baby possessing the eyes of a demon, he was taken in and raised by the Thieves Guild. Few mutants exemplify the complicated and convoluted nature of the mutant factions than Gambit.
The young Gambit was commissioned to recover the diary of Nathaniel Essex from the Weapon X Facility in Canada. While he was ultimately discovered in the act, the chaos created by Logan’s escape managed to enable Gambit to escape. Appalled by the experiments he had seen at the Facility, he burned the diary. Back in New Orleans. Despite some suspicions, Essex eventually accepted the story, and Gambit became a respected and established member of the guild.
As part of a peace pact between the Thieves' Guild and their rivals, the Assassins Guild, a marriage was arranged between Remy and Bella Donna Boudreaux, the granddaughter of the head of the Assassins Guild; however, Bella Donna's brother Julien objected to the marriage and challenged Gambit to a duel. Remy killed Julien in self-defence, but was excommunicated and banished from New Orleans in an attempt to maintain the fragile peace between the two guilds.
First brought to the attention of the X-men while assisting in recovering a de-aged Storm from grave danger, the adventuring criminal had little in common with Xavier or other important members of the X-Men, and those who he might have aligned with were the kind to be most suspicious of him. Despite this, after several further encounters he would ultimately join the team. Whether this was due to a true change of heart from the Ex-Thief, or rather more to do with the Southern charms of a certain member, remains up for debate. He would, over time, become a well liked and valued member of the team. This made the revelation that he had long been a double agent working for Sinister, despite his reasons, all the more painful for the X-Men, in particular for Rogue. In their rage, the team abandoned Gambit in the Antarctic, a situation he was unlikely to survive.
The wraith-like Mary bonded with him, allowing him to survive until he reached the Savage Land, a hidden jungle nestled in the icy wasteland. There, Remy struck a deal with the enigmatic being known as the New Sun. In exchange for passage back to America, Remy agreed to run errands for the New Sun, a being that turned out to be a version of himself from other realities. The New Sun’s aim was the destruction of alternate versions of himself, but once this was revealed, Gambit was ultimately able to overcome his assailant, and make it home to America.
Various adventures followed, and despite earlier conflicts, Gambit returned to membership with the X-Men once the nature of his betrayals, and his lack of agency in them, was revealed. Similarly, Rogue and Gambit, despite their tempestuous nature, rekindled their relationship and it has been ‘largely’ uninterrupted since, even surviving Gambit’s brief period of domination by Apocalypse as his Horseman, Death. Ultimately this culminated in the pair finally marrying, the result of a failed ceremony between two other mutants instead becoming the impromptu matrimony of the pair, in a manner that seemed quite suitable for these two.
Since this time, Gambit has settled on Krakoa for the time being, while his wife remains a core part of the X-Men’s effort, he appears to have hung up his hero boots for the moment, quite content to bartend in the Lagoon. It’s a mystery if even Gambit believes the longevity of this attempt at a life no involved in heists and heroics.
Story Arcs:
Married Life and An Actual Job: Trying to achieve some sort of stability, how’s that going to go?
Espionage: If the above fails, Gambit has long been associated with the shadier dealings of the X-Men, Brotherhood, and more, certainly a skill set the new mutant state needs as it entrenches itself.
In the brief moments that existed before the arrival of the spattering of humans, the brief moments where there was still a possibility the day could have been a quiet, but solemn one, Magneto had asked the question that had niggled at him for the last few interactions he had with Jean Grey.
"Even Charles does not call me Max, not to suggest there are not differences between him and me, and you, but he knows those times of my life better than most." It was an unusual number of words for the usually precise Magento, and he would have to admit to himself that despite his experience of years, there was something about her that made him grasp for words in a way he had not for a long time. Equally, while the implication was otherwise, he avoided 'better than you' when you spoke with telepaths like Xavier and Jean Grey, they could know your own history better than you. "Why the change?" A simple question, for a complicated issue, interrupted by the arrival of the sort of blacked out vehicle which usually meant you were either meeting the Federal Government or the local cartel. In his experience on this continent, the distinction had always eluded him.
If there was another present with similar gifts to the finely, if slightly old fashioned, dressed mutant, the slight hum in the air would no doubt notice the subtle change in the air. All around them small metallic objects buzzed with the slight force of his attention, their focus trained gently to move through the air should he need them. The firearms in the possession of those stepping forth onto the street would be found to be most inoperable should they be drawn, only temporarily, but that's all that mattered.
He clasped the man's hand in greeting and decided roughly in that moment he would likely prove to be one of his preferred representatives of the United States various agencies he had met. This meant little in his evaluation of the man along lines that mattered, he had murdered people he had loved and spared those he hated when the cause was involved, but it would at least make the walk a more pleasant experience.
"Mr Joseph," It was a simple enough greeting, but the nod of polite respect he gave the man did much to suggest he simply wished to not insult his intelligence by feeling the need to give his own introduction. "The Birth of Krakoa is an apt name for it, if future communications to your government should be run through yourself I will be happy to inform our Council, although you may forgive our hesitation with divisions named as yours's is." The 'Mutant Desk' was never normally a pleasant term, not for those it had been created to monitor.
The formal meeting of state representatives, however different in their roles, was put aside for the moment as Magneto turned his attention to Paul Bailey, offering him another nod and smile of greeting, that was several degrees less political and several degrees more conversational, even as he walked ahead with Jean "Mr Bailey, pleased to meet you." In other circumstances he would likely allude to some support should he need against the government that had propelled him here, but that seemed a little unnecessary given the situation.
"Do forgive me if I am straight to business, but I had hoped to pay respects to a departed family friend on this day, what matter brings federal agents to attend us? I do so hope it is something a little more interesting than fear of our presence."
The carousel, despite it being the nexus of the Krakoan community, was not particularly busy at the time, a state of affairs which suited Magneto quite well. Much had been done to establish Mutants in their own nation, a people apart. It had not been the future most had hoped for, but it had been necessary. It was a truth he had known for longer than most, a lesson learned and earned many times over.
Yet here he was, preparing to attend the most human of occasions, a ceremony that, should matters remain as they were for mutantkind, need never again occur for his own people. Before he had been Magneto, however, he had been Max Eisenhardt, born to a people that were bound together tighter than most, across borders jealously guarded by other peoples, but mostly ignored by them. It was a closeness, much like mutantkind, forged by necessity, from the predations of outsiders. It had damned and saved them countless times, and it was not something he could ignore, not forever.
So the helmet had been removed, the white and black of Magneto replaced with a finely tailored suit of the same colouring, a silver chain hanging from the centre of his waistcoat to one pocket. He had been told that this, along with the flat cap position atop his white shock of hair had become fashionable once more, but to him it was simply the style of his choice, from a lifetime of altering tastes among the wider human people. He supposed there were some advantages to being a man out of his era.
He had been preparing to leave for some time, waiting for no particular moment among the sparse spattering of mutants going to and thro. Their presence only amplified the debate within him, these were his people, not those beyond the portal. When he had finally exhaled and taken to cross the threshold, a familiar voice resounded within his head itself.
"Hold a moment."
"I will not be long, Miss Frost, I am sure Krakoa will survive for a day," The sudden thought something had arisen that might prevent him from paying his respects was not a comfortable one, and it was one which convinced him, finally, that is was the right thing to do, even if simply for himself, and those who had been lost along the way. No reply was forthcoming from the telepath, however, and so he did as instructed, pausing, not wishing to risk any ire from a lack of patience.
Then he saw her, the crest of red hair over black and brown, drifting through the air itself. It was a sight many would enjoy, he was sure, but when he beheld her there was more to his understanding. Was that not how the humans depicted their divinities? The song of angels on high, Christ descending among them. As the woman who had been the Phoenix touched down, boot-clad feet onto grass, his mind considered just how much destiny shifted around her, around all mutants. Only her voice, spoken aloud unlike Emma's, snapped him from such considerations.
"Miss Grey, keenly observed as ever, although perhaps knowing the machinations of a certain mutual connection, I believe we may be heading in the same direction." Something of the Head Masterly tone entered his words as he spoke, it was not entirely deliberate, for their times at Xavier's school had never intersected, beyond the somewhat awkward number of times he had been trying to destroy the place. "While I do suspect of the two of us, she considers me the risk that needs managing, I may pretend at least otherwise, and ask if do not mind for me to accompany you?" He tilted one hand towards the portal, as one might have a carriage door, in ages past.
Even for one possessed of great mental control, Jean Grey was distracting. Eric imagined he could stretch the belief that it was a facet of her powers, but in truth that would be giving himself too much credit. It had far more to do with the cascade of red hair, the sing-song of her laugh as the giggle tumbled forth and the way the shimmering emerald of her outfit flared after her waist into her hips than any great telepathic ability.
"I believe there are still grooves." He mused quietly as she turned course on their conversation to discuss the furniture and its unintentional use. A lesser man would have joined the grin, but he prevented such, instead offering a warm smile at her acceptance of the request he had made of her, allowing his previous words instead to suggest that he hadn't quite forgotten either.
The next words which issued forth from her steeled him, allowing the warmth that had been building from her presence to drip away. Matters with Wanda were never easy, and her own children were often even more extreme. He could not blame them, but it was still a complication. They were wounds he one day wished to heal, but for the moment, had kept on cutting.
"Thank you, Jean." The words answered the summation of both her agreement and the news she had passed on, even as she was drifting away, the enclosing hold of his helmet slipped away, allowing the other, less horrifyingly powerful, telepaths of the island to reach him from beyond its restraining hold. She had only just passed the lip of the balcony before Magneto began his own flight. Unlike Jean, he did not drift leisurely, the Master of Magnetism soaring into the air as he twisted the force of the world around him, moving at a speed that was enough to draw attention from the ground below.
The attention only grew more intense as he neared his destination, dropping lower in descent, the exited inhabitants of the Lagoon turning from their revelry to note one of the Quiet Council moving towards them at speed. It wasn't panic, it was just good gossip. He did not land with force, nothing quiet so dramatic, but the magnetic ripple at him suddenly coming to a half a short distance from both Emma Frost and the two boys. Without the helm, the passing wave of energy shuddered through his own grey-white hair as he halted in mid-air, before gently drifting the final foot to touch down deftly.
"Miss Frost, I do hope you are enjoying the festivities." His initial greeting was directed to his fellow council member, before his attention shifted to the forms of Wiccan and Speed. "Welcome Home."
"Jean, my thanks on your promptness, I hope I have not disturbed your plans too greatly." Erik's response to Jean's arrival was much in the manner of her greeting. Unlike her communication with Charles, and perhaps others of her more long term allegiance, it remained spoken, in the clipped politeness of humanity rather than the freeflow of mutant telepathic thought. In this instance in particular the latter would have been impossible, the cold metal of Magneto's helm placed upon his features. A sure sign these days that Eric whished to keep his thoughts from straying into the minds of those who might wish to listen. "I would offer refreshments as a good host, but I imagine the selection and the celebration I have taken you from would be far superior, so we shall be direct." Eric's hands met behind his back, his eyes drifting from the form she struck, having just touched down on the structure of his home. His focus settled on the view of the island, and the celebrants, even as he spoke again.
"I am sure you well understand the fragility of this, even as we celebrate. What Charles and I have had to become to ensure it, among the work of others, has necessitated a pragmatism that is far from his first vision, as much as it was my own." As the man spoke, he extended one hand, a trio of metallic orbs floating from within the chamber he had been waiting in, beginning to turn and rotate in perfect even synchronicity around his hand. A form of meditation, but also no doubt, demonstration. "It could not have been done without it, but I also believe we have lost something important, and equally necessary." Once again his eyes settled on her, a turn of his head to bring her back into focus, all the glimmer of her outfit and the blazing corona of her red hair. The woman who had held creation within her.
"It is necessary for you to take a place on the Quiet Council, to hold Charles to account, myself as well, although I doubt you would ever refrain from that duty, even if you weren't." Time and shared struggle had done much to ease the scars of the past, but the memories of their own terrible power turned on each other was still there. "It has to be you, you are a beacon to them, the people celebrating below, even those who hate you, and more importantly, only you could make us appear trivial, were it to be needed." It was certainly not a question, although it fell short of an order, a statement impressing upon her the importance of what he was saying, and perhaps addressing the need for the wearing of his helmet, to prevent him being convinced otherwise before he could bring the matter to her.
In the brief moments that existed before the arrival of the spattering of humans, the brief moments where there was still a possibility the day could have been a quiet, but solemn one, Magneto had asked the question that had niggled at him for the last few interactions he had with Jean Grey.
"Even Charles does not call me Max, not to suggest there are not differences between him and me, and you, but he knows those times of my life better than most." It was an unusual number of words for the usually precise Magento, and he would have to admit to himself that despite his experience of years, there was something about her that made him grasp for words in a way he had not for a long time. Equally, while the implication was otherwise, he avoided 'better than you' when you spoke with telepaths like Xavier and Jean Grey, they could know your own history better than you. "Why the change?" A simple question, for a complicated issue, interrupted by the arrival of the sort of blacked out vehicle which usually meant you were either meeting the Federal Government or the local cartel. In his experience on this continent, the distinction had always eluded him.
If there was another present with similar gifts to the finely, if slightly old fashioned, dressed mutant, the slight hum in the air would no doubt notice the subtle change in the air. All around them small metallic objects buzzed with the slight force of his attention, their focus trained gently to move through the air should he need them. The firearms in the possession of those stepping forth onto the street would be found to be most inoperable should they be drawn, only temporarily, but that's all that mattered.
He clasped the man's hand in greeting and decided roughly in that moment he would likely prove to be one of his preferred representatives of the United States various agencies he had met. This meant little in his evaluation of the man along lines that mattered, he had murdered people he had loved and spared those he hated when the cause was involved, but it would at least make the walk a more pleasant experience.
"Mr Joseph," It was a simple enough greeting, but the nod of polite respect he gave the man did much to suggest he simply wished to not insult his intelligence by feeling the need to give his own introduction. "The Birth of Krakoa is an apt name for it, if future communications to your government should be run through yourself I will be happy to inform our Council, although you may forgive our hesitation with divisions named as yours's is." The 'Mutant Desk' was never normally a pleasant term, not for those it had been created to monitor.
The formal meeting of state representatives, however different in their roles, was put aside for the moment as Magneto turned his attention to Paul Bailey, offering him another nod and smile of greeting, that was several degrees less political and several degrees more conversational, even as he walked ahead with Jean "Mr Bailey, pleased to meet you." In other circumstances he would likely allude to some support should he need against the government that had propelled him here, but that seemed a little unnecessary given the situation.
"Do forgive me if I am straight to business, but I had hoped to pay respects to a departed family friend on this day, what matter brings federal agents to attend us? I do so hope it is something a little more interesting than fear of our presence."
The island nation of Kul Tiras has dominated the seas of the Eastern Kingdoms and beyond since the days of the Arathor Empire. Established by colonists from Gilneas, still but a part of the original human nation, when the influence of Strom
Name: The Admiralty Of Kul Tiras
Held Territories: The island nation comprises primarily an archipelago of islands in the Great Sea, due West of Lordaeron and the other nations of the Northern Alliance. The principle islands include Kul Tiras itself and Tol Dagor, although this has since expanded to include Balor and Tol Barad following the Second and Third Wars respectively. The Admiralty maintains a series of small outposts on most of the world’s main landmasses, including islands near the Southern reaches of the continent and the South Seas. In more recent times the island of Theramore has been settled on the shores of Kalimdor, along with a series of military outposts across the continent’s eastern shore, although these function largely autonomously from the central authority of the Admiralty, due to the large number of Kul Tiran sailors and marines involved in their settlement, they are still considered to be aligned with the Admiralty now that contact has been established. Since the events of the Third War, the Kul Tiran navy has restored contact with the survivors of Arthas’ ill-fated expedition and thus loosely incorporated the port of Valgarde within the wider network of Kul Tiran outposts, although those present likely still feel greater kin for their surviving countrymen in Lordaeron.
Other Assets: The greatest asset of the Kul Tiran people is their famed fleet, the backbone on which the trading empire of the Admiralty is built. It established nautical dominance over the other human kingdoms long before the coming of the orcs, and was subsequently instrumental in maintaining Alliance control of the seas during the Second War. Crafted by the masterwork shipwrights and blessed by the Tidesages, few can hope to match the Kul Tirans at sea, nor in the subsequent success of their merchants in bringing wealth from across the known world to the island nation.
Goals and Motivations: Kul Tiras has little interest in the building rush for land and power on the ravaged continent of the Northern Eastern Kingdoms, instead seeking, as ever, to maintain their hegemony over the tides. With the second largest of the Alliance’s navies, Lordaeron, having been ravaged by betrayal and war, there seems little potential for any of their human allies and rivals challenging this. The nation’s primary future interests lie to the West and South, where their merchant class can continue to prosper from the influx of exotic goods brought in from their nautical exploits. Unlike the other human nations, the less direct way in which Kul Tiras is ruled does, however, create a series of contradictory internal goals. Despite early interactions with the Horde and Kaldorei in the West being far from peaceful, Jaina Proudmoore continues to attempt to bring an end to hostility , while her father and much of the more experienced memory see the exodus as an opportunity to ensure the Horde will never threaten the Alliance again. Others among the ruling elite instead simply seek to reduce Kul Tiras’ commitments to any of the costly conflicts it has been involved in for most of recent decades. Working from within the nation, the Coven has its own aims entirely.
Recent History:
Largely isolated from the disasters impacting the mainland, life on the island of Kul Tiras has largely remained the same, unlike the other human nations, Kul Tiras was largely independent of Lordaeron from both a commerce and agricultural perspective, and has weathered the absence of it with relative ease. The military of Kul Tiras has been active, but in a largely expeditionary nature, and has thus avoided the intense attrition felt by the other nations of the Alliance.
The most notable event for the nation has been the founding of Theramore, the eldest surviving child of the Lord Admiral, Jaina Proudmoore, leading an exodus of refugees from Lordaeron to the far shores of Kalimdor, in order to found a new home far from the calamity of their homeland. While the civilian population is largely made up of those from Lordaeron, the backbone of the Theramore military is formed from Kul Tiran marines and sailors, those sent to protect the Proudmoore heiress during the collapse of Lordaeron, now aligned to her vision of a new home for humanity on fresh shores. The Admiralty has little oversight and control of Theramore, and so there are those who consider this a considerable blow to the capability of Kul Tiras. For those subscribed to this view of the situation, the problem has only been compounded by Daelin’s focus on military matters in the West, seeking to support his daughter against both orcish and elven aggression, even if the two differ wildly in their approaches to such matters.
Ultimately, Kul Tiras remains aloof from the concerns of the Northern Alliance, focusing instead on its maritime pursuits across the Great Ocean, from securing its colonies, to protecting the one beach head the Alliance maintains on Nothrend, with the hope that one day the fight may be taken decisively to the Scourge.
Key Players:
Daelin Proudmoore: Lord-Admiral of Kul Tiras and decorated war hero of the second war, Daelin is a man who takes his duties to Kul Tiras as seriously as any to have held the position. Having been present at the formation of the Alliance of Lordaeron, he took up the position of Grand Admiral of the Alliance, coordinating the efforts of the Alliance’s naval forces during the Second War, which proved the most decisive element of the extended conflict.
While always a hard man of decisive action, bearing witness to the savagery of the Horde during the war, and the loss of his eldest son, only enhanced these traits. Where his daughter seeks to bring an end to hostilities in the West, Daelin perceives all versions of the Horde to be as existential a threat as the Scourge and is no more likely to pursue peace with them. Consequently, while the majority of the Alliance focuses on the pressing issue of the Scourge, Kul Tiras remains divided in its priorities.
Jaina Proudmoore: Previously the favored apprentice and student of Archmage Antonidas, Jaina has long been famed for both her magical prowess for one so young, as well as her impact on the courts of the human (and even elven) realms. While she grew up on Kul Tiras among the rest of the Proudmoore family, she has lived overseas since the start of her adolescence, primarily within Dalaran but equally visiting Lordaeron, Stormwind and SIlvermoon on occasion. In recent years she has been at the heart of important events, helping to combat the early Scourge before it was known as such alongside Prince Arthas and Uther the Lightbringer. When such attempts failed, at the urging of a mysterious Prophet, she lead many refugees from Lordaeron to safety, alongside a detachment of the Kul Tiran Navy, to found the city of Theramore on the mysterious shores of Kalimdor. These new settlers soon came into contact, and then conflict, with both the new Horde and the natives of the land, the Kaldorei. While she has pushed for peace with both groups, she is also determined that those who have entrusted her with their future will not be betrayed, and so lends her considerable skill in both magic and statecraft fully to this effect.
Tandred Proudmoore: Youngest child of Daelin and Kathrine, Tandred is already an accomplished sailor and commander, taking the helm of the Third Fleet, the rebuilt flotilla previously commanded by his elder brother, which suffered greatly during the conflict with the Horde which would claim his brother’s life. He is neither as belicose as Daelin, nor conciliatory as Jaina, instead seeking unity both within his family and his nation.
Morgaera Del’Vecroix: Previously the daughter of a minor Drustvar landowner, Morgaera is a courtier of some note within the Court of Boralus, a thriving environment that has only grown more so as the most stable within the Northern Alliance. Secretly, she is an agent of the mysterious Coven, who look to dominate Kul Tiras from the shadows. Previously the shadowy organisation of witches swore loyalty only to Gorak Tul, banished leader of the Drust, but now perhaps, there are even greater evils lurking within the realms of shadow.
Name: Lady Jaina Proudmoore
Faction: The Island of Theramore, Kul Tiras, Dalaran
Rank: The Lady of Theramore, Heir to the Proudmoore Line, Magus of the City. (Titles respectively)
Appearance:
Personality: Those who first meet Jaina Proudmoore often make the conclusion that she is both a bright and compassionate person, regardless of setting, be it at the highest courts of the land or among the common people, she is often able to forge bonds and establish comprmises where before such things seemed impossible. She is more than simply a kind diplomat, however, possessing a keen streak of ambition and duty, backed up by a capability that few could match. It is easy to be impressed by the young Proudmoore heiress, and easier still to underestimate her. Despite this, she is plagued with doubt, considering her role in recent events and her self imposed duty to protect the refugees and sailors under her care.
Powers and Abilities:
As with any Magus of the Kirin Tor, Jaina had to develop a mastery in at least two schools of magic before graduating to become a Magus, and while her skills have manifested in many ways, her two primary schools of magic remain the bulk of her ability. The most overt of these is her mastery of evocation, in particular frost magic, for which she is most renown among those who know her in passing or have little knowledge and patience for more esoteric magics. The school within which she is a true prodigy, however, is transmutation, having already developed a form of mass-teleportation far more efficient than what had been widely accepted as possible prior to her personal studies in Dalaran. While she is some way from being the cosmic force she may later become, Jaina is already one of the most promising human mages, and under the tutelage of the mysterious Aegwynn in Theramore, this is likely to only increase.
Name: Daelin Proudmoore
Faction: Kul Tiras, The Alliance of Lordaeron (The Northern Alliance)
Rank: Lord-Admiral of Kul Tiras, High Admiral of the Alliance of Lordaeron
Appearance:
Personality: See Above
Powers and Abilities:
Unlike his daughter (and to a much lesser and well known degree, his son), Daelin has no magical talent to complement his ability. Despite this, he is one of the most capable seafarers alive, both in terms of personal sailing skill and his role as a commander and officer. He perhaps lacks the fine skills of a duelist that many among the Kul Tiran nobility are famed for in the fencing schools of Upton, but fights instead like a marine of the Kul Tiran navy, a skillset that has brought down many pirates and orcs alike.
The island nation of Kul Tiras has dominated the seas of the Eastern Kingdoms and beyond since the days of the Arathor Empire. Established by colonists from Gilneas, still but a part of the original human nation, when the influence of Strom
Name: The Admiralty Of Kul Tiras
Held Territories: The island nation comprises primarily an archipelago of islands in the Great Sea, due West of Lordaeron and the other nations of the Northern Alliance. The principle islands include Kul Tiras itself and Tol Dagor, although this has since expanded to include Balor and Tol Barad following the Second and Third Wars respectively. The Admiralty maintains a series of small outposts on most of the world’s main landmasses, including islands near the Southern reaches of the continent and the South Seas. In more recent times the island of Theramore has been settled on the shores of Kalimdor, along with a series of military outposts across the continent’s eastern shore, although these function largely autonomously from the central authority of the Admiralty, due to the large number of Kul Tiran sailors and marines involved in their settlement, they are still considered to be aligned with the Admiralty now that contact has been established. Since the events of the Third War, the Kul Tiran navy has restored contact with the survivors of Arthas’ ill-fated expedition and thus loosely incorporated the port of Valgarde within the wider network of Kul Tiran outposts, although those present likely still feel greater kin for their surviving countrymen in Lordaeron.
Other Assets: The greatest asset of the Kul Tiran people is their famed fleet, the backbone on which the trading empire of the Admiralty is built. It established nautical dominance over the other human kingdoms long before the coming of the orcs, and was subsequently instrumental in maintaining Alliance control of the seas during the Second War. Crafted by the masterwork shipwrights and blessed by the Tidesages, few can hope to match the Kul Tirans at sea, nor in the subsequent success of their merchants in bringing wealth from across the known world to the island nation.
Goals and Motivations: Kul Tiras has little interest in the building rush for land and power on the ravaged continent of the Northern Eastern Kingdoms, instead seeking, as ever, to maintain their hegemony over the tides. With the second largest of the Alliance’s navies, Lordaeron, having been ravaged by betrayal and war, there seems little potential for any of their human allies and rivals challenging this. The nation’s primary future interests lie to the West and South, where their merchant class can continue to prosper from the influx of exotic goods brought in from their nautical exploits. Unlike the other human nations, the less direct way in which Kul Tiras is ruled does, however, create a series of contradictory internal goals. Despite early interactions with the Horde and Kaldorei in the West being far from peaceful, Jaina Proudmoore continues to attempt to bring an end to hostility , while her father and much of the more experienced memory see the exodus as an opportunity to ensure the Horde will never threaten the Alliance again. Others among the ruling elite instead simply seek to reduce Kul Tiras’ commitments to any of the costly conflicts it has been involved in for most of recent decades. Working from within the nation, the Coven has its own aims entirely.
Recent History:
Largely isolated from the disasters impacting the mainland, life on the island of Kul Tiras has largely remained the same, unlike the other human nations, Kul Tiras was largely independent of Lordaeron from both a commerce and agricultural perspective, and has weathered the absence of it with relative ease. The military of Kul Tiras has been active, but in a largely expeditionary nature, and has thus avoided the intense attrition felt by the other nations of the Alliance.
The most notable event for the nation has been the founding of Theramore, the eldest surviving child of the Lord Admiral, Jaina Proudmoore, leading an exodus of refugees from Lordaeron to the far shores of Kalimdor, in order to found a new home far from the calamity of their homeland. While the civilian population is largely made up of those from Lordaeron, the backbone of the Theramore military is formed from Kul Tiran marines and sailors, those sent to protect the Proudmoore heiress during the collapse of Lordaeron, now aligned to her vision of a new home for humanity on fresh shores. The Admiralty has little oversight and control of Theramore, and so there are those who consider this a considerable blow to the capability of Kul Tiras. For those subscribed to this view of the situation, the problem has only been compounded by Daelin’s focus on military matters in the West, seeking to support his daughter against both orcish and elven aggression, even if the two differ wildly in their approaches to such matters.
Ultimately, Kul Tiras remains aloof from the concerns of the Northern Alliance, focusing instead on its maritime pursuits across the Great Ocean, from securing its colonies, to protecting the one beach head the Alliance maintains on Nothrend, with the hope that one day the fight may be taken decisively to the Scourge.
Key Players:
Daelin Proudmoore: Lord-Admiral of Kul Tiras and decorated war hero of the second war, Daelin is a man who takes his duties to Kul Tiras as seriously as any to have held the position. Having been present at the formation of the Alliance of Lordaeron, he took up the position of Grand Admiral of the Alliance, coordinating the efforts of the Alliance’s naval forces during the Second War, which proved the most decisive element of the extended conflict.
While always a hard man of decisive action, bearing witness to the savagery of the Horde during the war, and the loss of his eldest son, only enhanced these traits. Where his daughter seeks to bring an end to hostilities in the West, Daelin perceives all versions of the Horde to be as existential a threat as the Scourge and is no more likely to pursue peace with them. Consequently, while the majority of the Alliance focuses on the pressing issue of the Scourge, Kul Tiras remains divided in its priorities.
Jaina Proudmoore: Previously the favored apprentice and student of Archmage Antonidas, Jaina has long been famed for both her magical prowess for one so young, as well as her impact on the courts of the human (and even elven) realms. While she grew up on Kul Tiras among the rest of the Proudmoore family, she has lived overseas since the start of her adolescence, primarily within Dalaran but equally visiting Lordaeron, Stormwind and SIlvermoon on occasion. In recent years she has been at the heart of important events, helping to combat the early Scourge before it was known as such alongside Prince Arthas and Uther the Lightbringer. When such attempts failed, at the urging of a mysterious Prophet, she lead many refugees from Lordaeron to safety, alongside a detachment of the Kul Tiran Navy, to found the city of Theramore on the mysterious shores of Kalimdor. These new settlers soon came into contact, and then conflict, with both the new Horde and the natives of the land, the Kaldorei. While she has pushed for peace with both groups, she is also determined that those who have entrusted her with their future will not be betrayed, and so lends her considerable skill in both magic and statecraft fully to this effect.
Tandred Proudmoore: Youngest child of Daelin and Kathrine, Tandred is already an accomplished sailor and commander, taking the helm of the Third Fleet, the rebuilt flotilla previously commanded by his elder brother, which suffered greatly during the conflict with the Horde which would claim his brother’s life. He is neither as belicose as Daelin, nor conciliatory as Jaina, instead seeking unity both within his family and his nation.
Morgaera Del’Vecroix: Previously the daughter of a minor Drustvar landowner, Morgaera is a courtier of some note within the Court of Boralus, a thriving environment that has only grown more so as the most stable within the Northern Alliance. Secretly, she is an agent of the mysterious Coven, who look to dominate Kul Tiras from the shadows. Previously the shadowy organisation of witches swore loyalty only to Gorak Tul, banished leader of the Drust, but now perhaps, there are even greater evils lurking within the realms of shadow.
Name: Lady Jaina Proudmoore
Faction: The Island of Theramore, Kul Tiras, Dalaran
Rank: The Lady of Theramore, Heir to the Proudmoore Line, Magus of the City. (Titles respectively)
Appearance:
Personality: Those who first meet Jaina Proudmoore often make the conclusion that she is both a bright and compassionate person, regardless of setting, be it at the highest courts of the land or among the common people, she is often able to forge bonds and establish comprmises where before such things seemed impossible. She is more than simply a kind diplomat, however, possessing a keen streak of ambition and duty, backed up by a capability that few could match. It is easy to be impressed by the young Proudmoore heiress, and easier still to underestimate her. Despite this, she is plagued with doubt, considering her role in recent events and her self imposed duty to protect the refugees and sailors under her care.
Powers and Abilities:
As with any Magus of the Kirin Tor, Jaina had to develop a mastery in at least two schools of magic before graduating to become a Magus, and while her skills have manifested in many ways, her two primary schools of magic remain the bulk of her ability. The most overt of these is her mastery of evocation, in particular frost magic, for which she is most renown among those who know her in passing or have little knowledge and patience for more esoteric magics. The school within which she is a true prodigy, however, is transmutation, having already developed a form of mass-teleportation far more efficient than what had been widely accepted as possible prior to her personal studies in Dalaran. While she is some way from being the cosmic force she may later become, Jaina is already one of the most promising human mages, and under the tutelage of the mysterious Aegwynn in Theramore, this is likely to only increase.
Name: Daelin Proudmoore
Faction: Kul Tiras, The Alliance of Lordaeron (The Northern Alliance)
Rank: Lord-Admiral of Kul Tiras, High Admiral of the Alliance of Lordaeron
Appearance:
Personality: See Above
Powers and Abilities:
Unlike his daughter (and to a much lesser and well known degree, his son), Daelin has no magical talent to complement his ability. Despite this, he is one of the most capable seafarers alive, both in terms of personal sailing skill and his role as a commander and officer. He perhaps lacks the fine skills of a duelist that many among the Kul Tiran nobility are famed for in the fencing schools of Upton, but fights instead like a marine of the Kul Tiran navy, a skillset that has brought down many pirates and orcs alike.
The carousel, despite it being the nexus of the Krakoan community, was not particularly busy at the time, a state of affairs which suited Magneto quite well. Much had been done to establish Mutants in their own nation, a people apart. It had not been the future most had hoped for, but it had been necessary. It was a truth he had known for longer than most, a lesson learned and earned many times over.
Yet here he was, preparing to attend the most human of occasions, a ceremony that, should matters remain as they were for mutantkind, need never again occur for his own people. Before he had been Magneto, however, he had been Max Eisenhardt, born to a people that were bound together tighter than most, across borders jealously guarded by other peoples, but mostly ignored by them. It was a closeness, much like mutantkind, forged by necessity, from the predations of outsiders. It had damned and saved them countless times, and it was not something he could ignore, not forever.
So the helmet had been removed, the white and black of Magneto replaced with a finely tailored suit of the same colouring, a silver chain hanging from the centre of his waistcoat to one pocket. He had been told that this, along with the flat cap position atop his white shock of hair had become fashionable once more, but to him it was simply the style of his choice, from a lifetime of altering tastes among the wider human people. He supposed there were some advantages to being a man out of his era.
He had been preparing to leave for some time, waiting for no particular moment among the sparse spattering of mutants going to and thro. Their presence only amplified the debate within him, these were his people, not those beyond the portal. When he had finally exhaled and taken to cross the threshold, a familiar voice resounded within his head itself.
"Hold a moment."
"I will not be long, Miss Frost, I am sure Krakoa will survive for a day," The sudden thought something had arisen that might prevent him from paying his respects was not a comfortable one, and it was one which convinced him, finally, that is was the right thing to do, even if simply for himself, and those who had been lost along the way. No reply was forthcoming from the telepath, however, and so he did as instructed, pausing, not wishing to risk any ire from a lack of patience.
Then he saw her, the crest of red hair over black and brown, drifting through the air itself. It was a sight many would enjoy, he was sure, but when he beheld her there was more to his understanding. Was that not how the humans depicted their divinities? The song of angels on high, Christ descending among them. As the woman who had been the Phoenix touched down, boot-clad feet onto grass, his mind considered just how much destiny shifted around her, around all mutants. Only her voice, spoken aloud unlike Emma's, snapped him from such considerations.
"Miss Grey, keenly observed as ever, although perhaps knowing the machinations of a certain mutual connection, I believe we may be heading in the same direction." Something of the Head Masterly tone entered his words as he spoke, it was not entirely deliberate, for their times at Xavier's school had never intersected, beyond the somewhat awkward number of times he had been trying to destroy the place. "While I do suspect of the two of us, she considers me the risk that needs managing, I may pretend at least otherwise, and ask if do not mind for me to accompany you?" He tilted one hand towards the portal, as one might have a carriage door, in ages past.
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