"Not all those who wander are lost."

In the southern seas of Azeroth, hidden by miles and miles of uncharted nothingness, there rests a desiccated chain of small islands known only as the Broken Isles. The Broken Isles are renown for two things – their vastly desolate solitude, surrounded by grey clouds and stormy seas; and their crumbled ruins, ranging from fractured settlements that echo a long forgotten civilization to dreadful temples and tombs used by cultists for nefarious purposes.

What most others of the world fail to realize, however, is that the Broken Isles is actually home to a great many number of creatures and cultures, spanning frigid mountain ranges to thick forests to abundant shorelines. True, not many live on the isles – not many of those that are quite sane, at least – as the island's loneliness and loathsome reputation that predate it make it a hard sell for the typical good hearted fellow.

It's true, not much good comes from the Broken Isles. The residents there are quiet only in the sense that ongoing conflict stays on the isles, never spilling onto the main lands, masking the society and identity of thousands from the rest of the world for better or for worse. Not too many truly morally virtuous souls call the Broken Isles their home. Far across deep in to the north, Highmountain and their namesake tauren inhabitants live in harmony with their drogbar neighbors, and vrykul tribes of the Valajar make their home in the rocky peaks and valleys of Stormheim, but that's about as far as it goes for friendly faces. The Broken Isles are named that for a reason, as they are filled with anguished ghosts, territorial satyr, ever encroaching naga, and deadly wildlife untouched from the outside world for hundreds of thousands of years.

To some, such as the most studious scholars and the heartiest of explorers, the island chain is filled with adventure and promise – who will be the first to unravel the mystery of the lost night elf civilization fabled to reside on one of the islets that dot the seascape, a culture famous not for practicing the nature magic the elves are known for today, but for being wielders of destructive arcane powers that tore the world apart?

During Maiev Shadowsong's campaign through the Broken Isles to chase Illidan into the Tomb of Sargeras, she brought along with her a loyal crusade of sentinels and guardians to aid her in her crusade. Known as the Watchers and led by sentinel Naisha, they were jailers of the toughest and most ruthless criminals capture by the night elves, and they followed Maiev unquestioningly into the Tomb of Sargeras after the Betrayer, Illidan. The twisted half demon, half elf was on a quest to recover a wretched and awful artifact known only as the Eye of Sargeras, a demonic magical instrument of presumably unspeakable power. Unfortunately Maiev was unsuccessful is stopping Illidan from retrieving the Eye, who then used the powers of the device to bring down the massive cavern and crush Maiev and her sisters-in-arms inside, trapping her as she once did to him. The Warden made it out by the skin on her neck, but most - not all - of her soldiers never saw the light of day again.

One of the Watchers, a particularly devout and silent woman by the name of Nylaria, along with her group of adherents, failed to make it into the Tomb of Sargeras in tow of Maiev after Nylaria's unit was bushwhacked by a troop of Illidan's naga ilk. The tide of battle favored the elven company, and they forced their serpentine adversaries across the shore in a raging war of attrition that spanned much of an entire day and saw blood spilled on the shapely white sand dunes of the island, only to be washed away by the frothy waves that battered the shoreline.

Successful in their fight against Illidan's wretched forces, Nylaria and her band of sister's victory was short lived as they discovered the Tomb of Sargeras had been flawlessly obliterated from the inside-out in their absence, trapping Maiev and the rest of the Watchers inside, presumably dooming them by burying them alive. Bloodied and beaten, the night elven party that remained decided to return home to Darnassus on the mainland after considering the mission a failure. And so they left the Broken Isles behind, vowing never to return to such a heinous place so long as they lived - all of them except Nylaria.

Nylaria made the decision to stay on the island, refusing to return home, believing she owed it to herself that she remained loyal to her leader in Maiev regardless of whether or not she still lived. She would fulfill the ultimate duty of the Watcher mantra, keeping eye over a great evil; the evil that was the Broken Isles. It would be her home, her burden, her finally resting place if it ever came to it. Her sisters were given careful instructions to spread the word that Nylaria the Tempest, Watcher of Maiev, was now the guardian of a wretched and primal force, one beside itself in malevolence, and that she only lived on in legend now.

What Nylaria failed to realize, however, was that the miniature islet her, Maiev, and the other Watchers had landed on in search of the Tomb of Sargeras – a piece of land called Thal'dranath that would many years later be staked as the Broken Shore – was merely a fraction of what the Broken Isles had to offer. First the lonely and derelict land she now called home was in fact a twisted, distorted fragment of Suramar, the ancient origin of all night elf culture including none other than Illidan and Maiev themselves. The city of Suramar was thought to have been destroyed thousands of years ago, believed to have been obliterated by the Great Sundering, now just debris resting on the ocean floor. Thal'dranath itself along with the Tomb of Sargeras had been raised from the sea by the late, terrible warlock Gul'dan who sought to appease his demonic masters in the Burning Legion.

Alongside Thal'dranath being a small part of ancient Suramar, the Broken Isles offered much, much more than Nylaria could have ever foreseen. Deep across the north in Highmountain, an ancient tauren tribe by the same name lived in peace and harmony, far from the outside world as much as one would be in the frozen clutches of Northrend or the fabled misted Pandaria. Vrykul, typically vicious and seafaring denizens of the north, find their theological and spiritual home in Stormheim. The islands were even home to Val'sharah, the very origin of druidism itself, where the great Malfurion Stormrage once lived and was taught. All of these wondrous places and more were thought to have been utterly wiped off the face of the plant when the Great Sundering took place, or simply had never been discovered by the outside world before. However, Nylaria would not discover these places for many years, believing at the start of her journey it was just her, the ocean, and the tomb, for as long as she remained on this earth.

Approximately ten years have passed by since Nylaria came to the Broken Isles alongside Maiev, Naisha, and the others. Or was it been eleven? It was difficult to keep any semblance of orderly time in this wretched place, as often times the sun would be swallowed for days on end by grainy grey clouds and sea squalls the size of which would put night elven tree homes to shame. Nylaria had survived the harsh darkness of the island in good standing, thanks in part to her undying warrior spirit, and in part to what little hospitality a place only known as "Broken" can possibly offer.

Eventually Nylaria would dare to leave the Tomb of Sargeras behind and begin exploring the surrounding island nation around her. She found night elf allies - sisters - in the mystic groves of Val'sharah, making an effort to visit at least once every fortnight to keep both her body and her mind in good balance. Nylaria would also climb the steepest peaks of Highmountain and be at peace with the ancient Tauren tribes that live atop the mountainsides, and spar with the honorable vrykul of the rocky and squall-infested lands of Stormheim. Still yet, Nylaria would leave the friendly faces of the Broken Isles behind, and return to the shore to watch over Tomb of Sargeras, chaining herself to her duty.

Life on the Broken Isles has changed Nylaria immensely - all for the better, even, strange as it may seem. When your entire life is spent on a shell that was once a great paradise, there are very few things you can do; hunt, eat, sleep, and if you're a night elf, pray. And if you're a night elf that spends most of your life surrounded by nightfall, you get a lot of time to pray. Though the nights on the Broken Isles fluctuated as rapidly as the tides, ranging from quiet and serene to just damn rattling, it was nighttime nonetheless, and it meant Nylaria had access to hours upon hours of uninterrupted communion with her goddess of the night, Elune.

Over the years, Nylaria's relationship with her great deity had evolved immensely. Of course, being centuries old at this point, the night elf had already developed a deep spiritual connection with her goddess Elune. But spending hundreds of nights in a row enveloped in the rope-like tendrils of inky black night brought Nylaria into enlightenment. She took control of her indomitable spirit, hero's training and natural penchant for the art of wielding arcane magics, and elevated herself from simple Warden to something more.

With the power of her night goddess, Nylaria has developed the enigmatic ability to conjure a fully functioning bow made out of ethereal moonlight that summons shafts of sharp arcane magic whenever she knocks the string. No more would Nylaria have to rely on faulty, manmade weapons or worry of exhausting a supply of finite ammunition to hunt her enemies Warden style. With the flick of a wrist and the will of thought she could call forth the power of the stars in her hands to smite and obliterate any unfortunate mortal soul that dared to stand in her way.