User:Silent Dirge/King of Dalaran
 Famine | |
|---|---|
 | |
| Title | The King of Dalaran, Herald of the Titans |
| Gender | Male |
| Race(s) | Blood elf |
| Class | Archmage of Kirin Tor, Mage King of Dalaran |
| Affiliation(s) | Kirin Tor, Dalaran, |
| Occupation | King and of Dalaran, Nobleman, Patrician |
| Location | Dalaran |
| Status | Alive |
Famine inherited ruler ship over Dalaran shortly after the demise of the previous archmage Antonidas who was killed by Arthas during the invasion of Dalaran. Famine seeks to avenge his father by slaying the one who prematurely took his life.
Biography
Growing up he had no friends and spent most of his adolescent years focusing on his education and the arcane arts. Archmage Antonidas put enormous pressure on him to be his successor. After the death of Antonidas and the attack on Dalaran by Kil'jaeden Famine quickly became king and ruled over the city with an iron fist, making it a city where patricians could thrive and the lower class plebeians beg for their lives. His reputation spread throughout the land and all the patricians from far and wide flocked to Dalaran to seek refuge from the scourge. This includes the city of Silvermoon which is why it is now empty. Hearing of this great immigration and Kings Famines goal to slay the Lich King, the leader of the Blood Elves Lor'Themar presented Famine with a gift: A 
[Vial of the Sunwell]. King Famine drank the vial which extended his arcane powers further and with all his might he lifted up Dalaran and flew it all the way to Northrend to battle the Lich King and his scourge army.
Memorial
It is King Famines wishes to have a statue in Dalaran next to Archmage Antonidas so future generations will know that he strived to be as great as him.
Speeches
A famous speech was once spoken by our king.
I am the King of Dalaran, and I'm here to ask you a question. Is a patrician not entitled to the sweat of his brow? 'No!' says the warchief in Orgimmar, 'it belongs to the poor.' 'No!' says the priest in Cathedral square, 'it belongs to the Light.' 'No!' says the Naaru in Shattrath, 'it belongs to everyone.' I rejected those answers; instead, I chose something different. I chose the impossible. I chose... Dalaran. A city where the warlocks would not fear the adds; where the mages would not be bound by petty morality; where the great would not be constrained by the small! And with the sweat of your brow, Dalaran can become your city as well. A patrician chooses. A plebe obeys.