Nastiria's mother moved from Silvermoon to a small cottage along the coast of the elven homeland before Nastiria was born. Though her mother never said why, many believed it was to conceal the pregnancy from her lover's family and perhaps even her lover himself.

These days Nastiria has rebuilt her father's manor in the corner of the bazaar of Silvermoon City and resides there with him.


The breeze warmed her skin as she followed at her sister Cayla's heels that afternoon. Too young and distracted to notice her older sister seemed so ill at ease. Her sister served as a guardian of the city and their people. Agile and strong and with an ease of command that Nastiria wished so badly to emulate.

"Go home Nas!"

"I want to see the tailor in Silvermoon Cayla...I want to buy a new blue dress!"

Her sister turned to her sharply, her eyes narrowing.

"Home! Now!"

Nastiria's lip quivered slightly at the rebuke as she reluctantly obeyed, turning towards their home on the coast line. Waiting till just after her sister traveled out of view to follow her once more...but this time undetected. Moments later she heard loud voices. Her sister's rising sharply above several males shouting. Frightened she crept silently closer, swiftly darting up a nearby tree in time to see her sister hemmed in on either side by two male elves. Her sister cursing them and drawing her sword...

"I knew you were involved in'd betray your own people?!" Cayla hissed.

"You should've left well enough alone!" one growled.

The blade flashed in the bright morning light as it sunk into her sister's neck, no scream...only terrible silence. Too shocked even to utter a sound Nastiria hugged the branch with her body, trembling and shaking in helpless despair. She doesn't remember seeing them drag her sister's body away undetected...or much else of the seemingly endless days that followed. Soon after Silvermoon began to fall... The smell of burning bodies and plague still pervade her memories. She never went home again...

Many years later Nastiria stood at the edge of the lake near Astranaar. Her powerful cat FistyCuff's pacing impatiently as she prepared the night's meal for them both. His amber coat glistening close to the campfire. ' click...' a strange mechanical device zipped past. Cuff's pouncing on it swiftly before Nastiria realized what was happening. The small explosion left Cuff's lifeless near the edge of the water. Nastiria drew her bow and sent an arrow zinging towards their assailant as he ran towards them. After several volleys the young gnome retreated. Laying a trap to slow him she quickly overtook him. Her rage clouding her judgment, she had paid little heed to her proximity to the night elf town. As she glared menacingly down at him, her blade at his throat, he only smiled. Looking up several night elf guards surrounded her. Her fury no match for their numbers.

How long she lay clinging to life she does not know. But she remembers the stiff cool touch upon her brow...the hushed argument of vaguely familiar voices...the face almost recognizable despite the flesh having rotted away...could it be? Cayla? And then a collapse back into visions and madness...her body's agony forcing her mind to retreat. Upon waking she found herself in the Undercity. The Dark Lady's Royal Apothecary entreating her to take various vile potions. All the while carefully noting her reactions and sending her on mindless errands as she grew stronger. The nightmares came less frequently...and the visions rarely haunted her waking hours.

Stronger of both body and mind, with her fierce new companion Memnoc at her side, she sought out the Crusaders of Quel'Thalas...and her home. Her desire to further herself amongst her own people, and defend the fledgling city, compelling her to face the ghosts that dwell there. Now, reborn with many of her former Crusaders as the Shindu Al'ar, she continues to serve the High Priestess and her father.


The huntress stands shrouded in azure flames and swirling shadows. Her skin growing ever paler and smooth, like stone. The result of the blue dragon guardian pendant she was gifted. The flesh of her throat is marred by a circular marbled scar, the flesh twisted as if burned where her pendant once lay. Her voice is soft yet resonant. Nastiria is generally seen flanked on her left side by her white tiger Memnoc, or with her alabaster owl Nim tethered to her arm. Occasionally her father's ethereal cat Eriador looms protectively nearby. Having come from an affluent home Nastiria's mannerisms are delicate and refined, however her senses are sharp and her constitution well hardened from years of surviving alone throughout Azeroth.


Though gifted with a blade, Nastiria prefers the power of her crossbow.


  • Jenrir Dawnbeak - Mother (Deceased)
  • Kayuri Alara Sundrift - Adopted Mother
  • Cayla Dawnbreak - Half-Sister (Forsaken)
  • Raxavus Saradom Sunwalker - Cousin


  • Nastiria places the well being and rebirth of the Sin'Dorei above all else, including her personal ambitions.
  • A master tracker and expert marksman, Nastiria is rarely seen or heard until she intends to be, even by those she trusts most.
  • Malygos' blessing bestowed many special gifts, including a strong resistance to magical attack, the ability to heal herself over time, and malleable control over the flames that envelop her body. Her eyes occasionally flicker and reflect the Spell Weaver's serpent gaze as he uses her to watch over the misuse of magic by mortals.
  • Being bound to the azure flight, Nastiria maintains an almost motherly demeanor over the dying brood.
  • Nastiria sees her order as her family and never hesitates to console or aid those in need. Her loyalty and discretion has made her the trusted confidant of many.
  • Years in the Undercity, under the watchful eye of the Apothecary and her sister, have taught her to speak and read Gutterspeak fluently. Her exposure to languages is expansive due to her travels and she is often able to understand a word or phrase from many different dialects.

See also

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