Chapter 5 - Accolades

Stormwind Keep, Elwynn Forest

Tiberius's restless strides echo through the majestic halls of Stormwind Keep, his mind a whirlwind of anxious thoughts. The news of King Varian's perilous confrontation with Onyxia reaches his ears, filling him with a sense of unease. Filth and exhaustion cling to the returning monarch, his armor stained with the grime of battle. Yet, even in his weariness, the king's eyes burn with an unyielding fire.

Halting before Tiberius, Varian regards him with a mix of gratitude and weariness. "Tiberius," he speaks, his voice heavy with the weight of their recent trials. "Your information and valor are the fulcrum upon which our victory against Onyxia is balanced. Stormwind stands indebted to you."

Tiberius bows, a gesture born of deep respect. "Your Majesty, it is my honor to serve, to lend my efforts in safeguarding Stormwind's future," he replies, his voice resonating with sincerity.

Varian's gaze never wavers, his expression a testament to the appreciation he holds for Tiberius. "Indeed, your loyalty and bravery are beyond question," he affirms. "As a token of gratitude, I offer you a boon—a single request that shall be granted without hesitation."

Tiberius's thoughts race, the weight of the king's offer pressing upon him. Images of power and riches dance before his eyes, tantalizing in their allure. Yet, his true desire burns brighter, undeterred by the seduction of worldly gains. With unwavering resolve, he meets Varian's gaze and musters the courage to share his innermost visions.

"Your Majesty, I humbly request an audience with Lady Tyrande Whisperwind in Darnassus," he begins, his voice steady yet tinged with a hint of revelation. "In my journey thus far, I have been blessed with visions, visions that I believe stem from the moon goddess Elune herself. These visions guide me, granting me insight into the hidden truths and the path I must tread."

Varian's eyes widen, a mix of curiosity and fascination dancing within them. He leans forward, his attention fully captured by Tiberius's words. "Visions, you say? And you suspect they are linked to Elune?" he inquires, his voice filled with intrigue.

Tiberius nods, his gaze unwavering. "Yes, Your Majesty. The moonlight speaks to me, imparting knowledge and urging me forward. It is my belief that Lady Tyrande, as the chosen high priestess of Elune, may hold the key to unlocking the mysteries that have unfolded before me. With her guidance, I may be able to unravel the mysteries of these visions."

Varian's features soften, his eyes reflecting a deep understanding. "Your path seems to be one of destiny, Tiberius," he acknowledges, his voice laced with reverence. "I shall grant your request without hesitation. May your encounter with Lady Tyrande shed light on the threads that bind our kingdoms and illuminate the path we must tread."

Gratitude swells within Tiberius, his heart filled with a renewed sense of purpose. With a profound bow, he expresses his gratitude to the king. "Your Majesty, I am forever indebted to your wisdom and compassion. It is an honor to serve the cause of unity and to walk this path that destiny has woven for me."

Varian extends his hand, clasping Tiberius's forearm in a firm grip. "Go forth, Tiberius," he imparts, his voice carrying the weight of their shared understanding. "May the moonlight guide your steps, and may the blessings of Elune be with you as you embark on this sacred journey."

Emboldened by the king's trust and his own burgeoning faith, Tiberius sets his gaze upon the next step in his grand journey. He turns to depart from the King's presence and only makes it a few steps before he pauses, a sudden realization gripping his thoughts. He turns back to face King Varian, his eyes filled with determination and a hint of urgency.

"Sire, before I depart for Darnassus, I request that you inform the High Priestess that my journey shall be delayed," he implores, his voice tinged with a sense of revelation. The king looks at him with curiosity and acceptance while Tiberius quickly racks his brain to come up with a believable reason for the delay he is now requesting. I know where the Scythe of Elune is. If I retrieve it… His thoughts trail off as he quickly comes to a decision. "It is Elune's will that guides me to retrieve something of great importance, hidden many leagues to the south of here. I sense a purpose, a connection that must be unraveled before I can present myself before Lady Tyrande."

King Varian regards Tiberius with a mix of intrigue and understanding. He nods, acknowledging the gravity of the situation. "Very well, Tiberius," he replies, his voice carrying the weight of hard-earned trust. "I shall inform the High Priestess of your quest and the necessity that lies within it. May your journey be swift and your purpose fulfilled."

Tiberius bows deeply, his gratitude to the king evident in his every movement. "Thank you, Your Majesty. Your support and understanding mean more than I can express," he conveys, his voice laced with genuine appreciation.

Tiberius turns once more, making his way swiftly from the labyrinthine keep. The call of destiny echoes within his being, urging him to venture into the unknown, driven by the desire to make a monumental impact on the world and guided by the vision that has been plaguing his thoughts constantly. I know too much about the inner workings of this world for my audience with Tyrande to be anything less than reality-shaking. He thinks to himself as a firm resolve settles upon his very soul, his mind alight with anything and everything he can remember about the Scythe of Elune's lore.

As he steps out of Stormwind Keep, the weight of responsibility mingles with the anticipation of the journey ahead. The road to Darnassus awaits, but first, a detour to the south beckons—a task of utmost importance that will shape the course of his quest and further unravel the mysteries that intertwine his destiny with the moon goddess.

Elwynn Forest

Tiberius ventures southward, his path leading him into the dark and haunting woods of Duskwood. Unlike the expedited travels of the game, the journey in this realm of Azeroth proves to be an arduous one, spanning many days. The vast expanse of the human kingdom, with its sprawling landscapes and varied settlements, still manages to surprise him at every turn, reinforcing the reality of his new life.

As he arrives in the humble town of Goldshire, a welcome respite awaits him. Tiberius seeks refuge in the familiar inn, its walls offering a sense of comfort amidst the eerie ambiance of Duskwood. The sounds of cheerful chatter and the aroma of hearty meals permeate the air as he steps through the door.

The innkeeper and bartender, recognizing him from his previous visit, greet him this time with genuine warmth. Their smiles speak of the camaraderie shared among adventurers, acknowledging Tiberius as one of their own. They usher him to a table, assuring him that a full meal awaits and a cozy room for much-needed rest.

Tiberius gratefully accepts their hospitality, finding solace in the familiar surroundings after the admittedly ridiculous events in the Capitol. He indulges in a satisfying meal, savoring each bite as nourishment replenishes his body. The taste of Azeroth's cuisine mingles with the flavors of his memories, a convergence of worlds both distant and present.

As he retires to his room, fatigue and anticipation mingle within him. The bed welcomes him with softness, offering a respite from the trials that lie ahead. It is a rare moment of tranquility in the midst of a tumultuous journey, and Tiberius embraces it wholeheartedly.

The night passes in peaceful slumber, dreams interwoven with fragments of his past and glimpses of his future. When the dawn paints the horizon with hues of gold, Tiberius emerges from his room, ready to face the challenges that await him beyond the inn's threshold.

He approaches the innkeeper and bartender once more, gratitude etched upon his face. "Thank you for your hospitality," he conveys, his voice filled with genuine appreciation. "Your kindness and warmth have eased my journey, and I carry them with me as I venture forth."

The innkeeper nods, a knowing smile gracing his lips. "You're always welcome here, Lad. May your path be filled with both triumph and wisdom."

With those parting words, Tiberius bids farewell to Goldshire, the memories of its inn and the camaraderie forged within its walls etched into his heart. He wonders to himself how long it will be until he returns to this place, contemplating the magnitude of the world he is set on changing. The haunting woods of Duskwood call to him, their secrets and mysteries awaiting his discovery. It is in the early morning light that he sets forth once again, eager to uncover the truths that lie shrouded in the darkness and to fulfill the purpose that has brought him to this realm.

Duskwood, Near the Northern outskirts of Raven Hill

With the fee paid and the ferry safely crossing the expansive river, Tiberius finds himself on the other side, one step closer to the heart of Duskwood. His journey has brought him to the outskirts of the large cemetery that dominates the northwest section of the haunted forest. Setting up camp beneath the shadowy embrace of the ancient trees, Tiberius takes a moment to rest and assess his meager equipment. The crackling of the campfire provides a gentle warmth and a flickering light that dances upon the surrounding darkness. His belongings lie spread before him, their worn appearance a testament to the trials he has faced and the battles yet to come.

As the night progresses, the moonlight fights its way through the dense canopy, casting ethereal beams that bathe the forest in an otherworldly glow. Tiberius gazes up at the celestial radiance, his thoughts drifting towards the mysterious moon goddess, Elune. A whisper of a notion creeps into his mind—what if I reach out to her, offering prayers and seeking her guidance?

Moonlight cascades through the branches, casting a celestial glow upon the earth below.

Kneeling on the sacred ground, Tiberius reaches out with reverence in his heart. "Elune, divine mother of the night, I… I'm probably just talking to nothing right now… but I have journeyed far alone. But… The vision you bestow upon me raises so many questions. I come seeking the Scythe of Elune. Grant me your wisdom and reveal the path I must follow," he whispers, his tone full of the insecurity and doubt he harbors for the Divine.

The air around him grows still, and a gentle breeze whispers through the forest. The silvery light of the moon seems to shimmer with an ethereal energy, as if acknowledging his plea. He can literally feel the presence of Elune, the moon goddess, growing more tangible with each passing moment. And then, a voice—a voice that resonates within his soul—speaks to him, carrying the weight of ancient wisdom.

"Tiberius," the voice echoes, each syllable filled with grace and power. "My Chosen. You call upon me with doubt lingering in your heart. You need not fear my silence. Your purpose intertwines with the fate of our people, the Kaldorei. The Scythe of Elune holds a key to restoring balance, but its path is fraught with trials and perils."

Tiberius trembles, his heart swelling with awe and purpose. The moon goddess has singled him out, designating him as her chosen one. But as her words sink in, questions begin to gnaw at his mind.

"Why me?" Tiberius finds himself asking, his voice tinged with both curiosity and doubt. "Why do you bring me to this world? How will the Kaldorei ever accept a human as your chosen, my goddess?"

The voice of Elune resonates once again, its ethereal tone holding a hint of compassion. "Tiberius, the threads of fate are intricate and woven in ways beyond mortal understanding. I bring you to this world for a purpose, for you possess qualities that transcend the boundaries of race and lineage. It is your courage, your unwavering devotion, and your knowledge of what befalls the Night Elves that make you the vessel through which my will shall be carried."

Tiberius listens, his doubts gradually giving way to a sense of acceptance. He realizes that being chosen by Elune is not about his own identity or heritage, but about the greater purpose he is called to serve.

"The Kaldorei may question and doubt, as change is often met with resistance," Elune continues, her voice soothing and steady. "But it

is through your actions, your words, and your unwavering belief in the path laid before you that their hearts will be swayed. Show them the light of Elune that burns within your soul, and they shall come to understand the divinity that transcends mortal boundaries. I walk with you the entire way, for I feel the fire of faith that burns in your soul, growing brighter and more intense with each passing moment."

Tiberius feels a mixture of determination and trepidation swirling within him. He has been chosen for a purpose greater than himself, to bridge the gap between humanity and the Kaldorei, and to divert the disastrous fate that befalls the Kaldorei in the coming years.

"Goddess, the world I come from has no gods. The divine would never answer," he whispers, doubt giving way to pure faith in the Ethereal power of the moon goddess. He has spent decades in his previous life, looking for signs of a higher power, begging for an answer, only to receive none. Now here, in this new world, the goddess speaks to him personally, and he will not turn his back on something so tangible.

Tiberius's words are filled with a mix of awe and gratitude as he speaks directly to the goddess who had eluded him in his previous existence. His doubts dissolve into pure faith, and he marvels at the profound connection he now shares with Elune.

"Goddess, in the world I come from, the divine remained silent, and my pleas for guidance went unanswered," Tiberius confesses, his voice laced with a sense of wonder. "But here, in this new realm, you reveal yourself to me, speaking directly into my soul. I shall not turn my back on something so tangible, so real."

He feels a deep sense of gratitude for the opportunity that has been granted to him—a chance to experience the divine firsthand and serve as a conduit for Elune's will. The years of searching for higher meaning and purpose have led him to this moment, and he embraces it with unwavering conviction.

The voice of Elune, gentle yet resolute, responds to his words of devotion. "Tiberius, your journey has been arduous, and the void left by the silence of the divine in your previous life has been recognized. It is through this recognition that the gift of my presence has been bestowed upon you. Embrace this connection, for it is a testament to the boundless nature of the divine and the eternal power that resides within."

Tiberius bows his head, overwhelmed by the weight of this divine revelation. He has found solace and purpose in a world where gods are not merely distant entities, but active participants in the lives of mortals. His faith in this singular moment blossoms from an uncertain flame to a raging bonfire, filling his soul with a sense of peace.

As Tiberius sits by his campfire, enveloped in the silence of the night, a radiant presence manifests before him. Elune, the moon goddess herself, materializes in all her divine glory. Her luminous form emanates a soft glow, casting an ethereal light upon the darkened woods of Duskwood. He leans back in surprise, "You look a lot more like a troll woman than a Night Elf." He blurts out, looking her up and down curiously.

A warm smile blossoms on her face. "Tiberius," she speaks with a voice that resonates like a gentle breeze, her touch comforting and reassuring as she places her hand upon his face. "Your skills are formidable, but the task that lies ahead—the retrieval of the Scythe of Elune—is one of great magnitude."

Before he can really ask her what she means Elune extends her hand, and a radiant energy flows from her fingertips, enveloping Tiberius' staff in a celestial glow. The wooden surface twists and reshapes. From the gnarled end sprouts a brilliant light, and as it fades in its place remains a blade that looks as if it is forged of liquid starlight—a weapon both elegant and fearsome. Moonlight dances along its blade, lending an otherworldly gleam to its edges. Tiberius can do little other than gape at the new weapon, looking rapidly between it and Elune.

"Take hold of your new weapon, Tiberius," Elune urges, her voice filled with unwavering conviction. "Let the moonlight guide your strikes, and know that with each swing, you wield the power of my divine essence. Together, we shall face the darkness that seeks to shroud this world."

Tiberius reaches out, his hand trembling with a mixture of reverence and anticipation. As his fingers close around the hilt of the transformed staff, a surge of celestial energy courses through his veins. He feels a profound connection to the divine, a merging of mortal and immortal power that transcends the boundaries of his previous existence.

In this moment, Tiberius becomes the bearer of a sacred weapon, a bladestaff infused with the very essence of Elune. Its weight feels familiar in his grasp, as if it has always belonged to him, waiting to be revealed in this pivotal hour.

"Go forth, Tiberius, as my chosen champion," Elune whispers as she begins fading from his vision, her voice carrying the weight of countless ages. "Let the moonlight guide your path, and may your every strike reap justice upon the forces of darkness. Remember, you are not alone, for I walk beside you, even in the darkest of nights."

With her divine blessing, Tiberius rises from his campfire, the bladestaff held aloft, its radiant glow illuminating the surrounding forest. He feels a newfound strength and purpose coursing through his being—a fusion of mortal skill and celestial might.

With what he has dubbed as the Bladestaff of Elune in his hands and the moonlight illuminating his path, Tiberius, guided both by his faith and his determination to succeed in his endeavor, ventures forth from his camp towards the giant Cemetery that he can see in the distance to the south. His goal? To rid the land of the undead menace that plagues Duskwood's giant cemetery and venture deeper into the Catacombs.

As Tiberius approaches the giant Cemetery, the air grows heavy with an eerie silence, broken only by the faint rustling of leaves and the distant howls of unseen creatures. The moon hangs high in the night sky, casting its ethereal glow upon the desolate landscape, as if lending its power to Tiberius's quest.

The towering gravestones loom before him like ancient sentinels, their weathered surfaces bearing the weight of countless souls laid to rest. The moonlight dances upon the moss-covered stones, casting eerie shadows that seem to shift with every flicker of the celestial glow. The atmosphere is thick with a sense of foreboding, as if the spirits of the departed watch with bated breath, waiting for Tiberius's arrival.

With the Bladestaff of Elune held firmly in his grasp, Tiberius steps forward, his every movement guided by the moonlight's subtle touch. As he moves deeper into the Cemetery, the ground beneath his feet becomes uneven, the soil disturbed by the presence of the undead. Grave markers lie shattered and toppled, a testament to the unholy forces that have laid claim to this sacred ground.

The scent of decay lingers in the air, mingling with the earthy aroma of damp soil. Tiberius can sense the presence of the undead, their malevolent energy pulsating through the night. His heart beats steadily, fueled by a mixture of apprehension and determination. He knows that the task before him is formidable, but with Elune's blessing and the Bladestaff as his weapon, he stands ready to face the darkness head-on.

As he takes his first swing with the Bladestaff, the moonlight ignites along the blade, casting a radiant arc of silvery light. The undead, their twisted forms emerging from the shadows, recoil at the sight, their rotting bodies recoiling from the celestial power infused within Tiberius's strikes. With each swing, he can feel the essence of Elune coursing through him, empowering his every movement, and guiding his strikes with unparalleled precision.

The clash of steel against the unholy forms fills the air, accompanied by the eerie moans and howls of the undead. Tiberius's movements are a dance of moonlit grace and swift, decisive strikes. He moves with a purpose, the bonfire that is his faith in Elune and his burgeoning strength allowing him to smoothie cleanse this once sacred ground of the undead taint.

Moonlight spills forth in shimmering waves, dispelling the darkness that clings to the Cemetery. The radiant glow of the Bladestaff illuminates Tiberius's path, guiding him deeper into the Catacombs, where the heart of the undead menace resides. He faces wave after wave of undead creatures, his strikes fueled by the righteous fury that burns within him.

With each fallen foe, Tiberius's confidence grows, his connection to Elune and the Bladestaff strengthening. He can also feel what he had identified before, the latent magic of Azeroth itself, empowering him with every slain foe. And slay he does, the gleaming blade of glittering moonlight arcing through the air, dispatching a new undead each and every time. This staff if fucking awesome?! He can't help but cheer internally, the task at hand made so much easier by the divine blessing that is his new weapon.

Time seems to blur as Tiberius battles the undead horde, his movements, in time, becoming an instinctual symphony of moonlit strikes and agile maneuvers. The night sky begins to pale as dawn approaches, but Tiberius's resolve remains unyielding. He knows that he must press on, deeper into the Catacombs, until every last trace of the undead's presence is vanquished.

As the sun's first rays begin to pierce the horizon, casting a golden glow upon the Cemetery, Tiberius stands amidst the stillness, his breath ragged, his body adorned with dirt and the remnants of his hard-fought battle. The Bladestaff of Elune gleams in the morning light, a testament to his triumph over the forces of darkness.

But Tiberius knows that his journey is far from over. With the Catacombs beckoning him to venture further into the depths, he takes a moment to catch his breath, his mind racing. "Typically the weaker undead would be up top... " He huffs, looking up at the brilliant morning sun as it pierces the unnatural veil that is Duskwood. If I rest back at camp I would bet my left nut that the undead would be crawling all over this place by the time I get back. He kicks a rock in tired frustration, before taking a long deep breath. "Fuck it." He grumbles, entering into the frankly creepy looking crypt through an arched opening.

As Tiberius steps into the crypt, a shiver runs down his spine. The air inside is cold and stale, carrying with it the unmistakable scent of decay. Shadows dance along the ancient stone walls, cast by the flickering candlelight that illuminates the passageway. The silence is oppressive, broken only by the distant echoes of his own footsteps.

The catacombs stretch out before him, a labyrinthine network of tunnels and chambers that seem to defy logic. Tiberius relies on his intuition and the guiding moonlight to navigate the winding paths, his grip on the Bladestaff of Elune tightening with each step.

He passes rows upon rows of crypts, their stone doors sealed with an air of finality. The presence of the undead grows stronger, their lingering essence permeating the very walls. Tiberius can feel their malevolent gaze upon him, their anticipation for his arrival evident in the air.

As he delves deeper, the catacombs reveal their secrets. Cobwebs hang like gossamer veils, and the occasional skeletal remains of fallen adventurer's serve as haunting reminders of those who had failed in their quests before him.

He encounters pockets of resistance, undead guardians that bar his path with gnarled hands and hollow eyes. With each encounter, the Bladestaff of Elune dances through the air, moonlight tracing graceful arcs as it cleaves through the unholy flesh. The divine power within the weapon pulses with each strike, weakening the undead and sending them back to the eternal slumber they were denied.

As Tiberius moves deeper into the catacombs, the presence of the Scythe of Elune becomes palpable. He can feel its mystical aura resonating through the stone, beckoning him closer. It is both a calling and a warning, a reminder of the grave responsibility he carries upon his shoulders.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Tiberius reaches a grand chamber bathed in an ethereal glow. In the center stands a pedestal, upon which rests the legendary Scythe of Elune. Its blade is a shimmering crescent of silver, and its hilt is adorned with intricate lunar symbols.

Tiberius approaches with a mixture of awe and trepidation. He can feel the weight of Elune's presence in the room, as if the moon goddess herself watches over this sacred artifact. But at the same time, he knows in his gut that something is terribly wrong. It shouldn't be alone. He thinks to himself, casting his gaze about in search of the hidden danger he knows should be nearby. With steady hands, he reaches out and grasps the Scythe, a surge of energy coursing through him as if the weapon recognizes its new guardian. The catacombs reverberate with a mystical energy, a testament to the significance of this union between mortal and artifact.

He thinks back to what he knows of the Scythe, knowing that it ranks among the most powerful of the artifact weapons that they had been able to use in the games. Lore-wise it was ridiculously powerful and dangerous, with ties to the curse of the Worgen. It also had the capacity to tear holes in the fabric of reality… Not that I have ANY intention of playing with that… He tells himself.

Tiberius stiffens suddenly, before jerking his entire body to the left with as much speed as he can muster, sending himself sprawling on the uneven stone. The space he was just occupying is rent apart with dark energy, and a mad cackling fills the air.

As he stands once more, the Scythe in one hand and the Bladestaff in the other, he locks eyes with the Necromancer.

The Necromancer stands before Tiberius, a figure draped in tattered robes that seem to blend with the shadows. His eyes gleam with a malevolent light, betraying the depths of his dark power. The air around him crackles with arcane energy, and a twisted smile curls upon his lips.

"So, you seek the Scythe of Elune, mortal," the Necromancer hisses, his voice laced with mockery and contempt. "How foolish of you to believe you can simply waltz into my domain and claim what is rightfully mine."

Tiberius squares his shoulders, his grip tightening on both the Scythe and the Bladestaff. He meets the Necromancer's gaze evenly, refusing to be intimidated by the vile presence before him.

"I am Tiberius, servant of Elune, and I will not allow you to pervert the power of the Scythe," Tiberius declares, his voice filled with conviction. "Your reign of darkness ends here."

With another mad cackle and a negligent flick of his wrist, the Necromancer summons forth a swarm of skeletal minions, their bones creaking and rattling as they lurch forward. They claw at the air, hungering for Tiberius's flesh, their vacant eyes fixed on their target.

But Tiberius is ready. With a fluid motion, he wields the two weapons, both blessed by Elune's power, his chest heaving as he swings them independently of each other. The celestial light emitted from the weapons cut through the undead horde, severing their limbs and shattering their bones. Each strike is mostly haphazard, the unfamiliar act of swinging two weapons at once taking him time to adjust to.

As the Necromancer witnesses his minions fall before Tiberius's onslaught, his face contorts with rage. He unleashes a surge of dark energy, attempting to ensnare Tiberius in its suffocating grip. But Tiberius, fueled by his connection to Elune and the Scythe, channels the divine power coursing through him.

He raises the Scythe high, its silver blade gleaming with an otherworldly radiance. With a resounding cry, Tiberius brings it down upon the ground, causing a shockwave of celestial energy to ripple through the chamber. The dark tendrils of the Necromancer's spell dissipate, unable to withstand the overwhelming light of Elune.

With the path cleared, Tiberius charges forward, his weapons swinging with swift precision. The clash of steel against dark magic fills the catacombs as Tiberius engages in a fierce duel with the Necromancer. Moonlight and shadows dance around them, each strike a testament to the battle between good and evil.

Though the Necromancer fights with desperation, his dark powers are no match for the combined might of Tiberius and the divine artifacts he wields. Blow by blow, Tiberius drives the Necromancer back, forcing him closer to the edge of defeat.

Finally, with a final swing of the Scythe, Tiberius cleaves through the Necromancer's defenses, severing his connection to the foul magic that sustains him. The Necromancer crumples to the ground, his face contorted in disbelief and impotent rage that quickly dissipates as his head is fully severed from his body in a single decisive blow. He falls to the ground with little fanfare, dead.

Tiberius stands victorious, his chest heaving with exertion. The catacombs are bathed in an eerie silence, broken only by the sound of his own breath. He takes a moment to catch his breath, his eyes still trained on the fallen Necromancer.

"You are no match for the power of Elune," Tiberius declares, his voice resonating with triumph. "And I will ensure that the Scythe remains in safe hands, away from the likes of you."

As he looks upon the defeated Necromancer, Tiberius feels a sense of relief and accomplishment and raw power flooding his veins. Must be what it feels like to level up. He muses, unable to keep the ridiculous smile from his face as he makes his way from the depths of the crypt.

Author's Note: I decided to ultimately split this chapter into thirds. The document I've been working out of has a little under 10k words in it even after I cut this chapter from it... so yeah, I've been busy. Enjoy!

Name: Tiberius

Race: Human

Age: 18 (reincarnated from a 77-year-old veteran)

Class: Warrior

Alignment: Neutral Good

Skills:

- Weapon Proficiency: Tiberius is familiar with martial combat, it having been a hobby of his in his past life.

- Combat Tactics: He possesses a deep understanding of battle strategies and can adapt to different combat situations.

- Martial Arts: Tiberius is skilled in unarmed combat techniques, utilizing punches, kicks, and grappling maneuvers.

- Survival Skills: Having grown up in the country and later living through a career as a military man he is proficient in wilderness survival, tracking, and hunting.

- Lore Knowledge: Tiberius' secret hobby as a purveyor of high fantasy of all sorts ensures that he has accumulated a vast knowledge of Warcraft lore, including history, mythology, and important figures that he carries with him from his past life.

- Leadership: Though not his preferred position, he possesses natural leadership qualities and can inspire and guide others in battle.

- Tactical Awareness: Tiberius has honed his senses and can detect threats and opportunities in his surroundings.

Equipment:

- Belt Knife: A medium-sized knife, suitable for close-quarters combat and utility purposes. He has carried this knife with him for over 50 years, having been a gift from his father. It seems to have made it with him to the fantastical land of Azeroth.

- Slightly Damaged Low-Quality Leather Armor: Gone are his modern clothes. All have been replaced by a set of basic leather armor providing minimal protection but allowing for better mobility.
- The Bladestaff of Elune: an elegant fusion of staff and sword. Crafted from celestial essence, it glows with divine radiance. Moonlit edges gleam, empowering the bearer with celestial might.

- The Scythe of Elune: a potent artifact of untamed power. Tied to the Worgen curse, it possesses the ability to rend reality. Dark and mysterious, it exudes an aura of ancient magic. A weapon that commands respect and fear, with the potential to shape destinies and alter the course of history.

Background:

Tiberius, a retired veteran, found himself unexpectedly reincarnated into Azeroth at the age of 18. Having lived a full life prior to his reincarnation, he brings with him a wealth of experience and knowledge from his years of exposure to the Warcraft lore. Equipped with his trusty belt knife and wearing a worn set of leather armor, he embarks on a new adventure in this unfamiliar world, using his combat prowess, survival skills, and deep understanding of the lore to navigate the challenges that lie ahead.

Notable Accomplishments:

Survived his first few days in Azeroth.

Survived a night in Lady Prestor's, also known as Onyxia, loving embrace.

Delivered an incriminating letter from Prestor's personal study directly to King Wrynn, drastically altering the course of Azeroth's History with a single action.

Was accepted by Elune as her champion.

Retrieved the Scythe of Elune before the events of Ahn'Qiraj.