This article is a player character biography page for Boehm of Moon Guard US The contents herein are entirely player made and in no way represent official World of Warcraft history or occurrences which are accurate for all realms. The characters and events listed are of an independent nature and applied for roleplaying, fictional, speculative, or opinions from a limited playerbase only.
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Appearance and PersonalityEdit

Boehm is of light stature for draenei, his lithe build only a scant few inches above seven feet tall. His skin is as as much without hair as without scar and as much without scar as without color, a nearly luminescent white. Boehm's posture is dramatic and despite his small stature he carries himself with clear confidence. His gestures and manner are simple yet elegant.

Some may remember Boehm once as vocal, open to conversation, charismatic. No longer. Boehm seems vacant, with very, very little to say.


Relatively young, Boehm was born on Draenor, in a remote island province far from dense populations. His Famil and community were archivists of geological phenomena, their isle unique to Draenor for it's unrivaled geographic diversity. Boehm was born a gifted autodidact and mimic, his youngest years spent in fragile admiration and emulation of many elders within the Famil, revising his hero of the day with confidence.

Eventually his adulation fell to one not of the Famil, instead, a frequent visitor, an Anchorite called Lecius. Lecius was eccentric, traveling in an antiquated wagon cluttered with strange. His journeys went without obvious rational, retracing steps and carving poor yield gems in the shapes of things he'd seen: other draenei, faces, animals, architecture, landscapes. Boehm left the isle with Lecius, and never returned, leaving his Famil for a life without roots.

Prior to the eight year war, Boehm lived a missionary's existence helping struggling communities and realigning lost minds with the Light. This was the path Lecius had lived, until he'd found mate and settled on the very isle Boehm was born. Inevitably, Boehm found imbalance in being swept into Lecius' existence. And so, in the months at the head of the conflict, as Kil'jaeden's onslaught gained momentum, Boehm left the old life and worked to make his way to find Velen, holding hopes of discovering a new path to contribute to his own people.

Boehm never reached Velen, being driven, like most draenei during the orcish massacre, to remote regions far from his own Famil. These were difficult times, the refugees he'd hid with never successfully making contact with the outside, isolated from any support. Eventually, he and a small group of others concluded to risk an expedition to Tempest Keep. And they did, finding themselves present for the final hours of the siege to retake Exodar.

After the crash, Boehm traveled Azeroth with the only other surviving refugee from the expedition: an Arcanist known as Xovius. Eventually, their paths split as Boehm fell to seclusion, seeking answers to meaningless questions born of a senseless guilt for the desperate condition of his people. For more months he lived alone.

Eventually, one eve in Ironforge, fate found Boehm crossing paths with a draenei Famil called Sha'Kaari. Inspired by the compassion of the Prioress of the Sha'Kaari, Boehm worked to become a member, feeling certain he'd been shown a path through which he could again help his kind.

His quick acceleration within the Famil to the role of Elder drew ire and, eventually, threats of death. Boehm, naive, entirely terrified, saught a seclusion from which he could develop enough to defend himself from those around him. With Sha'Kaari based on Aldor rise, and members within the Famil who'd brought him threats having rumored roles as death dealers for Aldor, Boehm had one place to go: Scryer's Tier.

His fear for his life, and shame of his weakness in the face of threat, had Boehm polarize. The month since his pledge to Voren'thal has been a month of utter brutality, literally hundreds of dead Sin'dorei in his wake, his life of simpler civilian efforts now one devoted to war. Boehm is no longer a pacifist, no longer kind of heart, and no longer afraid.

Boehm's wandered from the Sha'Kaari entirely. The pressure and trauma of espionage against his life within his Famil of Sha'Kaari brought him to limit, and he has lost mind and ego. Today, Boehm is an agent of Voren'thal, and nothing else.

Goals and MotivesEdit

Once it was true that melancholy and love were where Boehm began and ended. To both, he was addicted and vulnerable, they are still the very basis of his being. His most contented moments in life were once those spent with other Draenei, hearing their challenges, and finding through reason and intuition a benevolence to take to his responsibility to help them. These times are long gone. Now, Boehm rests numb, barely of emotion.

Boehm has conceded that life beyond Draenor is ruthless indeed. The loss of trust and safety within the Famil he'd devoted to, and the self loathing over his inability to defend himself, has him with new goals, new needs. For now, he refines strengths of the most violent sort working solely as a hand of death for the Scryers, intentionally taking on only the most difficult tasks of bloodshed. Recently, he has entered the arenas.

He knows he has lost something, but trauma has brought strange holes in Boehm's recollections. As time passes, the strange is getting stranger...


Boehm wears a ring on a metal hoop around his neck. He does not know for certain what it is from, but, he needs it. "I have always had this..." he'll say, with confounded grimace and brow.


  • Boehm is a bit of a dandy, obsessive about wardrobe, grooming and presentation. He laboriously tacks soft pads underhoof to quiet his step.
  • Boehm is incredibly well read on Azerothian topics, spending regular time in the libraries of Stormwind, Ironforge and Darnassus, still the autodidact.
  • Boehm is pragmatic. He does not believe evil permeates the entirety of any race, nor that Velen's word should exist without scrutiny.
  • Boehm is scarred about his torso, terribly. Long searing scars run wide, burns of fel magic, certainly nearly death. An old brand on his chest is mangled beyond recognition.

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