|Affiliation|| Alliance of Lordaeron|
Kingdom of Lordaeron
|Position|| Lieutenant of|
|Location||Wintergarde Keep, Dragonblight|
|Relative(s)|| Solvie (wife)|
Keol Poffo (father)
Anna Poffo (mother)
More commonly known as Kalas, he was accidently brought to Azeroth through a colapsing portal. Desperate to return to his family, Kalas of the Wythu Clan is on a journey to find a way back to his home world.
Born within a tribal clan of warriors, Kalas Poffo was the youngest of the four sons of Keol and Anna Poffo (a.k.a. Sjonya Blackstone). Since Kalas was not the oldest of his parents' sons, he was not bound to follow in his father's footsteps. Instead, he left his family's village and began living the life of a farmer. Living the peaceful life of a farmer, husband and father would last but a few years for him, for a war had claimed the lives of his older brothers. Kalas left his young family to help his father fulfill the Poffo's oath to protect the mysterious prophetess, Qiying.
Family and DutyEdit
The Wythu Clan Edit
The Wythu Clan was an extended family of barbarian-like humans who lived in the region of Keoland. Even in the oldest documents of their written history, the clan's sole purpose was to protect the Temple of Qol in the hills of the Dreadwood. Within the clan, the Poffo family was sworn to be the personal servants of the temple's extremely old and reclusive Priestess Qiying. Qiying's only requirement for the family was for the oldest male to stand guard over her while she performed her infrequent mediations. For scores of generations, the Poffo's were her personal bodyguards.
The Gift of Wisdom Edit
Just as Qiying did with every one of Kalas's forefathers, she gifted Keol with all the memories and experiences of the men who preceded him. As Keol was close to the end of his life, this gift was to be taken back and given to his oldest son by the ancient Qiying. Keol's oldest three sons died in a battle to defend the temple, so a messenger was sent out to inform Kalas of his duty. Kalas made it to the temple to receive the gift of wisdom a few days before his father's death.
The following was written by an elven druid who was the first to encounter Kalas on Azeroth:
Once you enter into the body of this writing, and perhaps after you have completed it, you may believe that I am mad or some type of magnificent liar, however; I was there and in my right mind when I saw the event that started my fascination with the human that this writing is about.
On that particular night, at the time of night at which the sun-loving birds start to awaken in preparation for the day, I was ending my nightly herb gathering. As normal, it ended with the usual berry eating volley and it was at this time that the light captured my attention…and how could it not? This light wasn’t from a celestial body or torch, no; this light was unnatural in origin, color, even style. The flame of this light progressed downward as if it was heavier than the air around it and it had a color like that of the Black Lotus in full bloom. I was mesmerized by this event to the point of not being able to flee, as common sense would dictate at such a time. Small nocturnal woodland creatures didn’t even seem bothered by this which made me begin to wonder if I was the only one who could see this seemingly evil apparition. As this orb of blackened fire grew and its lower parts came close to the forest floor, for it started out at about two leagues height, the ferns lost their will to hold shape and simply melted under the burden of the invader. I wanted to run, I simply had to, but I was frozen as the wall of the flame neared my skin. The pain and weight of it made me scream aloud, which was the only movement I could muster, and I could feel the wine in my drinking skin start to boil. When I awoke, my exposed skin was black and hardened, from the heat I had assumed, and I was lying on my back with my head turned toward a group of burning shrubs in the distance. I was able to sit up and take in my surroundings; all life around me had been destroyed and the soil was as dry as the sand of a desert. I was sitting close to the center of large circle of ruin in the middle of this perpetually beautiful forest with myself being the only apparent survivor of this catastrophic event. I sat and prayed as the fire surrounding the edge of this scar was choked out by the moisture of the forest and the stream that was once unchanging began to reoccupy its previous path. The day had awoken and I knew I must be finding refuge before I was noticed by someone from nearby Camp Mojache. As I hurriedly limped to the southern rim of this crater of death, I noticed a human’s footprint in the newly formed sand. The print was that of a bare foot in a series of tracks leading to a newly exposed rock; I could not resist, I had to see this human for myself. Coming closer to the boulder, I could hear labored breathing from the opposite end of the rock. In peaking around the obstacle, I saw him, a human male lying naked on the burnt earth and bleeding from his nose and ears. There was no time to think…no time for caution, I had to act now or simply flee for I could hear the sounds of the Mojache Braves discovering the hell I had just endured. I grabbed the human’s wrist and dragged him into the shelter of the forest. Then I went, with him in tow, down the hill to a fallen and hollowed out tree next to the stream. There it was, in the safety of nature, that I again lost consciousness and did not awaken until the evening.
Upon waking, I hesitantly left the shelter of the massive hollowed out tree trunk. The man was still alive and barely breathing so I took it upon myself to heal both of us, for I had the ability to do so. I know that it doesn’t seem proper, but I healed myself first and I did this out of self-protection, I mean; I had no idea who this man was and what he could be capable of conjuring, casting, or summoning. My knowledge of human physiology dates back to their earliest times in the world so healing this man was not a problem except for the palm of his left hand. In this hand was a tightly grasped gem, purple in color, which had scared the flesh beyond repair. I had found the gem before I applied the first lotions and had hid it by wrapping it up in a sycamore leaf and stuffing the package under the exposed root of a nearby tree. The last healing I would perform on this human was to clear his lungs and blood of the poisons he had been exposed to and, upon completing this, he began to awaken. It was early morning now so I took the form of a small worg and stayed a good distance from him as he began to visually explored his surroundings and move about. The first thing he did, after covering his nakedness with a handful of leaves, was to start walking uphill toward the source of our injuries. I had expected him to get a drink of water from the stream next to him or sit for a while and try to make sense of his situation but his curiosity was as strong as an ancient tree’s roots. I followed and saw him stop at the edge of the crater where he bent down and grabbed a section of charred tree branch that had fallen victim to that burning orb. There he stood, looking out across the carnage that I had pulled him from with one hand clutching a grouping of leaves over his private parts and the other holding his newly found make-shift club. I approached slowly and silently as he stood there gazing at the scar in the forest floor when he suddenly dropped his “leaves of modesty” and started running back into the forest with both hands on the branch. After several running steps, he leapt onto an unsuspecting deer, tackling it to the ground. Three or four blows from his club were enough to kill the deer due to every swing landing atop the deer’s head. Nearly perfect shots, mind you! Humans rarely surprise me when they are driven by there own survival instincts, but this one was a little different. After the kill, he looked away from the deer’s corpse and shook his head in apparent disappointment. Was this man ashamed of what he did? Did he feel that he should have been a more efficient killer? Or was it that he was preparing himself to be disgusted about having to eat uncooked flesh? Without letting go of his club, he dragged the young deer’s body back up the hill to the spot where I first saw him at the large rock. After placing the deer at the foot of the boulder, he looked around on the ground as if he had dropped something. Finding and picking up two rocks: one about the size of his fist and the other a little larger, he began to work. He laid the smaller rock on a flat part of the boulder and beat it with the larger of the two until all that remained were small, broken bits. With one of the sharp pieces of broken rock, he started to remove the deer’s hide. This was such a fascinating sight to see that I didn’t realize I had crept very close to see all the action. He suddenly stopped and looked right at me! I immediately backed off with my tail down in true dog-like form without taking my eyes off him, but he did not pursue. It appeared to me that he was attempting to fight back a smile before returning to his deer. I kept a good distance from him and decided to investigate his footprints I had found just the previous morning. Going against the direction of the prints, I found that they had originated at the center of the devastated circle and it seemed like this man was at first lying below where the orb had been. “Since there was no human there before the flaming sphere and none of his footprints led to this spot, he must be a product of that dark flame”, I thought. That was the only thing that seemed logical about the evidence. Looking back at the boulder, I noticed that the man had left and dragged the deer’s remains off with him. After returning to the downed tree where I healed him, he was washing himself clean of the deer’s blood in the stream. He had also constructed a crude loincloth out of the hide and had removed some of the flesh from the bones. Upon seeing me, he started in my direction with a deer leg and his club in his hands. I was about to pretend to be scared and cower away from him again when he stopped and threw the leg to the ground in front of me. The only thing to do here was to continue with this roll playing game that I had started so I grabbed the meat and ran back into the lower brush. Evening was approaching and I needed to get some sleep so I assumed bird form and sought refuge in the crook of a tree and took a short nap. Waking at about midnight, I found the human sleeping so I descended to the forest floor to look for some berries and nuts. I needed to feed myself for I did not partake of the human’s gift of meat but only hid it in the brush. Once my hunger was satisfied, I returned to the man to see how he was doing only to find that he was still sleeping and had not eaten any of the deer either. It did look as if he had tried to start a fire with which to cook the meat but was unsuccessful. Beside him were the crude deer slaying club and that sharp stone shard he had gathered from the broken rock. I knew that if I wanted to find out what this human would do next I would have to sleep at night and stay awake during the day just as he was going to do. So I figured that sleeping on the ground in worg form close to him would be the best approach and that is what I did.
The next morning, a little more than two days since the black orb spit out the human, I awoke to the sound of fighting. Two Longtooth Howlers were getting the best of a young Mojache Brave and he was going down fast. The human wasted no time with watching this melee but sprang into action. He grabbed his two weapons and ran down the stream away from the fight. After getting well out of the sight of any of the combatants, he washed himself thoroughly in a pool that the stream emptied into. I was confused; one moment the man was an unstoppable survivalist and the next, a shivering coward with a cleanliness fascination. And you would think that after being around for thousands of years, I would know every trick to survival…right? Wrong! I returned to the battle sight to find that the Longtooths had killed their adversary, moved to our log, and were devouring the deer’s remains. Once they were finished with fighting over the last few bites of meat, they began to sniff out my guy’s trail. They did manage to follow his scent part of the way down the stream, but could not follow once they neared the pool where the man had taken refuge. They had lost his scent; he had lost them! The man did return to the area where the fight had taken place, about an hour later, to find that the Mojache’s personal effects were secured in a pouch and attached to his lifeless body. He recovered the pouch along with the Brave’s spear and cloak. He now had a real weapon and some other essentials that could no longer be used by their former owner. It was mid day when the human started heading east, why he picked east I did not know, but I was going to follow him to see what would become of him. He was better prepared now for whatever might happen but hunger was slowing him down. He fell asleep quickly that evening so I went to work once again. In worg form, my trip to Thalanaar and back didn’t take long and it was there that I managed to steal a food ration without being noticed. My thieving skills were also handy upon returning to the sleeping human as I slipped the ration into the pouch without stirring him from his sleep. I too needed some sleep so, after hiding, I took a nap.
The sounds of singing birds woke me that next morning when I found the man standing over me munching on the ration I secretly gave him. Still in worg form, I quickly rolled over on my back in the most submissive pose possible. “You again?”, he said with a smirk. He speaks! I let my tail show a little wagging motion and then sprang up and away from the spear wielding woodsman survivalist. “Are you following me, little fellow?”, his deepened but gentle voice inquired. After chuckling, he said, “If you’re still after food, then you’ll need to look elsewhere. I am definitely not a hunter.” Stopping in mid bite, he threw the rest of the ration to me and wiped his mouth. Since he was looking at me in anticipation, I hurriedly consumed the remainder of the cheese, stood erect and stared at him. He burst into laughter and belted out, “I’ll think I’ll call you Freki.” This brought on a sudden ease between the two of us that can only be explained through a similar, first-hand experience. As he sat on a massive exposed tree root, he began to talk to me as if he knew I could understand him. He did not, however, wait for a response from me as he asked about where he was and what kind of dangers were in the forest around him. After a little while, he did it; he reached out for my head! I froze and stopped breathing for a moment. He touched me on the top of my head and began to pet me! I know that this is supposed to be a calming and bonding gesture between a master and his pet, but I was feeling extremely uncomfortable yet, I remained as still as he expected me to be. Still he talked to me and referred to me as Freki, and still he pet my head. I couldn’t concentrate. His words echoed in my mind and started to overlap like too many fish swimming up a small stream to spawn. Then he stopped, right at the edge of my breaking point I supposed, and started looking through the bag he had lifted from the dead Mojache Brave saying, “What else have I overlooked in here?” “Let’s see; there’re a few small pebbles, a bit of waxed string, some flint and steel, and a curious stone with some writing on it. It has “Stormwind Hearth” written on it, I wonder what that means?”
“Oh, that’s a human city.”, I said aloud without thinking.
The silence that followed from the both of us as we sat there staring at each other in disbelief is nearly indescribable. It was as if my mistake had placed some type of field around us that blocked out everything including time. I stared at him without moving in the least, not even blinking and he did the same. I think that he was breathing, he must have been, and his mouth was opened wider than is natural for a human that isn’t yelling or yawning. We must have sat that way for long while due to the slobber that had accumulated in his mouth and started to fall out of his parted lips. This spittle dropping down onto the human’s chest is what brought him out of his trance. He stood up quickly and, after wiping his mouth and chest off, looked around as if to see if anyone else could have said those few little words.
“W-What?”, was the only thing he could choke out.
A million things raced through my mind as he said that. I decided that all was not hopelessly lost and I could, with some skill, salvage this situation.
“Stormwind, that is a city of humans.”, I repeated followed by, “Oh, and what is your name?”
He actually answered me. I didn’t think he would, but he did. “Kalas”, he unconfidently whispered.
I had to continue with this, for I have found in my dealings with humans that you can’t give them time to think. I had partially broken his mental fortitude so I absolutely could not allow him to regain his composure.
Just Kalas? Not Kalas, son of someone or Kalas of some place you are from? Come on, you must have a last name, or is Kalas your last name?”
At this point he was nearly dumbstruck. With his mouth agape, he slowly turned his gaze from me to the ground.
“Kalas…with…uh…Kuh?”, he questioned as if to ask me if that was sufficient.
“Kalas Withakuh is you name?”, I quickly followed, partially joking.
Several seconds went by as he looked even more confused with his eyes darting from side to side. “Yes, I think. I’m not sure.”, he stammered out.
This awkward but successful interrogation quickly ended with a loud thud as a Longtooth Howler tackled this Kalas Withakuh to the ground. The impact of the attack knocked the man’s spear from his hand and now he was lying on his back fighting to keep his throat from being bitten. I immediately pounced on the Longtooth and we fought it out. It was turning out to be a closely matched fight until Kalas jabbed his spear into the Longtooth’s side. This action gave me an advantage over our opponent and I quickly grabbed its throat as Kalas continue to stab the beast’s torso. I less than a minute, the Howler was dead but that wasn’t good enough for my human companion. He repeatedly stabbed at the corpse until its entrails were exposed. Kalas, upon seeing this, finally stopped. Still breathing rapidly, he removed his homemade “rock-knife” from his pouch and began to open the fallen beast further. This human was a pro, his cuts were well executed and followed a logical pattern. This pattern came to an end with the stomach being opened to reveal its contents. Now, many humans and non-humans alike can not manage to survive searching through partially undigested mater without getting sick, but Kalas completed this with ease. In that pile of acidic stomach contents was found a ring. I have enough experience with magical and valuable objects to guess that this ring’s former wearer was not a very nice individual. I dare say that the ring bearer was probably a practitioner of Shadow Magic. It was too bad that I couldn’t inspect the ring for very long for the human, after wiping it clean, placed it into his pouch. While Kalas was finishing up with butchering our fallen foe, he turned to me and asked, “So, where is Stormwind?”
“A long way from here,” I answered without hesitation.
“How can I get there, spirit?”, was his next question.
He had referred to me as “spirit” but that did not bother me nearly as much as how confidently he had inquired of me. I had been called many things over the centuries, do to my unique appearance from my mixed parentage, but never had I been mistaken for a spirit.
“There are several ways to get there but the easiest is to use that stone in your pouch.”, I replied.
“The stone with the writing can take me to Stormwind?”, he asked as he looked through the pouch for it.
I said, “Yes, that is a Hearthstone and it can teleport you to Stormwind. It must have belonged to a human that lost a battle to that Mojache Brave you found it on.
“Mojache Braves, Hearthstones, and Spirit-Dogs that talk; this is truly a strange land,” he said as he examined the Hearthstone.
He then stood and gathered up as much of the fur as he could hold under his arm. With his spear in one hand and the Hearthstone in the other he turned to me and asked how to use it. I explained the procedure and, a few seconds later, he was gone.
There were many questions I had for this human that I failed to ask but still, that was one of the most exciting events that I had been a part of in several years. I wished that he had stayed and told some stories about his past or where he was from but it was too late for that. Since he had not heard of Stormwind and Hearthstones were foreign to him, he couldn’t be from this world. Then I remembered…the gem! The gem I had removed from his scared left hand was wrapped in a sycamore leaf that I had hidden. I raced for that old downed tree where I healed Kalas and pulled the gem from its hidden location. It was cold to the touch now, even colder than the ground it was sitting on and the leaf it was wrapped in. There were no markings on the gem and it didn’t appear to have any magical properties but I kept it none the less.
Could this human have been the one I was warned about before my mother’s death? He did say that this land was a strange one and had never heard of Stormwind. What kind of human doesn’t know about Stormwind? I had to know…it was foretold! If this Kalas Withakuh was the one I had heard about those many thousands of years before, I knew that we had to meet again. We simply had to talk! Was the gem I held actually “The Key”?