Hidden 9 yrs ago 9 yrs ago Post by Sinerathin
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Sherraine Daerin'Lei, AKA Sherpa.

Age: 232
Class: Death Knight

Description:
Standing at 196cm tall, Sherpa possess a slender but toned and athletic frame common among the sons and daughters of the sunwell, as he is a Quel'Dorei; a High Elf born and raised in Quel'Thalas. His skin is pale, and his hair is white as snow and runs down the back of his neck. He shares the magical blue eyes of all High Elves, but his eyes also carry a darker steel gray hue. Has a deep cut in his right ear from a sword. His body carries multiple scars, most of which are not from battle but from the torture he suffered at the hands of his masters in the Scourge.

Biography:
Like most Quel'Dorei, Sherpa possessed an adept magical talent, though not as great as that of his brother, Sharon. But what he may have lacked in magical prowess, he compensated with his natural resourcefulness. While his older brother, Sharon, pursued a successful life of academia and magical studies in Dalaran, Sherpa's interests lay within the mercantile world. Gaining a foothold within the textile and wine market, two prominent exports of Quel'Thalas to the southern realms below, Sherpa proved highly industrious in his talent for combining magic in the process of production, enabling him to out-compete competitor's despite their seemingly greater conventional capital. He even enlisted the aid of Sharon in a joint-venture, helping his brother use his magical talent to increase the production even further.

In the relationship between the two brothers, Sherpa had always been the more reflective and thinking of the two, whereas Sharon possessed a much greater extrovert behavior. Sherpa's tendency to think before acting made him a natural strategist, and by extent, a shrewd merchant as well as producer.

However, despite the success of their partnership, the two brothers drifted apart in a dispute; partly fueled by Sharon's notion that his talent made him deserve a greater part of the share, and partly because they both had an interest for the same girl, a race to her heart that Sharon eventually won.
After they broke up, they would not speak to one another for years until the Third War where the Scourge ravaged the human kingdoms to the south. In a foul minded prank, Sharon got Sherpa levied by Silvermoon while the ranger army's only contact with the Scourge consisted of light skirmishes to the south. Sherpa was furious by this which he saw as yet another betrayal, vowing revenge when the Scourge had been defeated and he returned to Silvermoon, but by this time, neither of the brothers had any idea of the sheer extent of the Scourge's power.

After a brief training, Sherpa would travel to the frontline as a battle mage where he was assigned to a platoon of rangers to stop the Scourge's advance which by now was rapidly traveling north towards Silvermoon. In an ill fated ambush against a large horde of Scourge reinforcements, Sherpa's platoon was decimated and routed, while Sherpa himself surrendered.

Fearing death, Sherpa pledged his life in service to the Scourge in order to save himself. He was then placed in a regiment of low ranking cultists under the command of the Cult of the Damned, made up of men, elves and dwarves alike, and shared one thing in common; they had all betrayed their own peoples. In the war for Quel'Thalas, their chief two jobs were often to perform menial tasks for higher ranking cultists and necromancers, and acting as cannonfodder alongside the undead in dangerous assaults. While initially suffering from mental trauma and high levels of stress, Sherpa's character would soon return to his old cool and contemplative stance as he was filled by a cold, seething rage towards his brother who he blamed for all of his woes. He set himself a personal goal in the war for Quel'Thalas; that regardless of which side that won, Sherpa would see Sharon dead by his own hand.

Sherpa survived, and during this time received training within necromancy and dark magic by the Cult of the Damned. Sherpa was quick to learn from his new masters, and would soon command a small group of undead that he used to protect himself in battle. His martial prowess was also noted by his overseers, as Sherpa was just as likely to fight with sword as he was with magic, and often combined the two. Among his fellow low ranking cultists, Sherpa had convinced many of them to follow him as much as they did their higher ranking masters, forming almost a cult within a cult. With their talents combined, they kept themselves alive throughout the war. Though their relationship had been mostly egalitarian at first, borne out of mutual interests, Sherpa had a penchant for picking the best routes through battlefields and knowing when and when not to attack. This skill eventually elevated him to a unofficial leader of the group, and his words and advice soon became indisputable commands.

When Silvermoon burned as a tidal wave of undead slaves and monstrosities set upon it at the end of the war, Sherpa was picked alongside a small cadre of cultists and given the opportunity to become second generation Death Knights based on his magical talent, martial prowess and leadership skills. Sherpa immediately accepted the offer, accepting his new Runeblade without hesitation. His only request from his superiors was that his old group of cultists come with him and serve him upon his knighthood.

Plague. Blood. Frost. These were the three most common main specializations that most Death Knights would eventually choose as they walked down the path of the damned. Sherpa on the other hand, due to his background as a necromancer and cultist before becoming a Death Knight, would choose to specialize in the shadows, the very dark magic behind each of these three major schools, and of which Unholy was most associated with. As he delved into the shadows, Sherpa would inscribe his Runeblade with unholy runes, the anathema of light. It became like an all consuming void around which all light died, and those in his presence when he drew his blade could feel the blade's chilling aura eat away at their very humanity. His Runeblade would exist both on the physical plane and beyond. While its metal would rend flesh and bathe in blood, it would also wound the very soul of his victims. Even through armor, the unholy bite of his blade could be felt. Those few who were ever struck down by Sherpa but survived would forever feel a void in their hearts, and though their physical wounds may have healed, would always feel their spirits wounded.

During the reign of the Scourge, Sherpa would continue to build his own small faction within the Scourge despite displeasement from other dark masters, and sometimes even came close to inspiring the Lich King's wrath for his ambition. As he was a member of the Cult of the Damned, Sherpa was often tasked with creating networks behind enemy lines and even within the populace of both the Alliance and the Horde, both for recruitment, espionage, sabotage and assassinations.

The Lich King's defeat at Icecrown during the Argent Crusade came as a shock to Sherpa, as he had believed the Scourge to be invincible after the fall of Quel'Thalas. Though he was miles away from when it happened, when he could no longer hear the Lich King's whispers either through his minion, rituals or Runeblade, he knew what had happened. Knowing that the Scourge was now doomed, Sherpa would rally many of his supporters and closest followers before deserting the Scourge. But before they left, they also took with them a large amount of unholy artifacts, damning texts, cursed relics, weapons and treasures from the Scourge that they would hide for use later. Any servant or cultist still loyal to the Scourge who tried to stop them from leaving were brutally cut down without mercy. Using the networks he had created earlier, Sherpa helped his ex-Scourge comrades evade the wrath of the Argent Crusade and their inquisitors, and helped them blend back into the civilian populations of the Horde and Alliance.

Sherpa moved to Stormwind alongside the vast majority of his followers, but they kept little to no contact afterwards. For a brief time, Sherpa assumed a job position as an assistant accountant and economic advisor in a sea trade based investment company. Though they may have joked about him needing a tan, none of his coworkers had any idea that they were sharing their office space with an unholy Death Knight who had once walked under the Scourge's black banners, stood a midst the destruction of entire cities, butchered hundreds of soldiers, priests and civilians alike and commanded legions of undead slaves.

In a quiet moment within the solace of his house, Sherpa genuinely contemplated actually trying to return to a normal life. But it was a thought that he would soon brush aside. Having wielded power unimaginable to most, he knew he could never be satisfied with a normal, peaceful life.

Contacting his old followers and colleagues from the Scourge whom he had saved from the Argent Dawn, he would gather them, and with their help and expertise; set in motion the plans to create a large organization called the White Hand alongside some smaller sister companies that together would seek to dominate both the private military and economic sectors within the Alliance.
Hidden 9 yrs ago Post by Sinerathin
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Sharon Daerin'Lei
Race: High Elf
Age: 235
Description: 190 cm tall. Fairly slim figure, and physically fit. By human standards, he appears to be in his 20s. White skin with a slight tanned tone. His eyes are deep arcane blue with a mystical elven magical tint. His hair is blonde and flows to his neck. Usually clean shaved.

Biography:
A scholar and academic by profession. Sharon was born in Quel'Thalas, where he was raised. He traveled often and visited the human lands of Lordearon and its surrounding kingdoms, and even sometimes the dwarves during his travels.
His academic career started in his homeland of Quel'Thalas, but he became closely acquainted to the circles of Dalaran in the human kingdom to the south, where he became a professor and spent his time tutoring students and delving deeper into the mysteries of the arcane arts together with his fellow colleagues. Besides his work in academia, he also lived a materialistic life of extravaganza and debauchery.

His life changed with the outbreak of the Third War, as the Scourge lay waste to the great northern kingdoms, including his own Quel'Thalas, turning the continent's most sophisticated civilization into a lifeless graveyard.
During the undeath onslaught, with his kingdom shattered and the human and elven armies ruined, Sharon choose to help the human resistance in their struggle for survival and in aiding refugees escape the all consuming legions of the damned, and followed them south.

The conflict permanently changed Sharon; the exposure to the sheer horrors and mindless brutality of the Scourge had been a humbling experience and a wakeup call. Having lost his home, and with the vast majority of his friends and family now dead, he devoted much of his time to helping the denizens of Stormwind, and joined the Silver Covenant as he pursued the reconstruction of Dalaran.
Even after the the magical city of Dalaran was completed, Sharon choose to remain in Stormwind. Part in due to financial difficulties, and partly because he never could feel quite at home in Dalaran after its first ruination. But even then he often visited the city, to give lectures and share his studies and findings with fellow colleagues, much like he had done before the war.
Hidden 9 yrs ago 9 yrs ago Post by Rithy
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Rithrynn Syn'Dial

Race: Night Elf
Age: 96
Profession: Sentinel/Huntress

Description:

Rithrynn stands at somewhere under 8ft, her skin is light purple, and her hair is deep blue and runs down to her back. She wears two deep purple tattoos around her silvery eyes stretching out into elegant tendrils on her face.

Having been a Sentinel for the greater part of her life, and served under notorious Captain Serphia who is renowned for her love for exercise and particular leg training, Rithrynn, like most Night Elves, has notably more flesh and muscles on her bones than that of her skinnier High Elven cousins across the sea, sporting an amazonian body. Even though she has lived a life of rigorous exercise and meat diet, she still retains her feminine figure and curves, however toned they might be with strong arms and stronger legs.

She tends to wear a different assortment of clothes and armor depending on time, occasion and season. She loves to try out new things, but can be found to wear her sentinel uniform most of the time.

Her sentinel uniform during summertime is both simple at the same time as it is opulently embellished; consisting mainly of a pair of tall light plated boots, a pair of steel gloves running all the way up to her elbows, a chestplate sitting on her upper torso with some leaf formed shoulderpads, and a helmet. The surface of her armor is painted black, trimmed with silver colors and adorned with beautiful silver threaded patterns representing leaves and branches across the pitch black background, as well as covered in purple colored leather in other places. Alongside her light armor she wears a deep purple moonsilk loincloth at her waist, and sometimes a purple cloak and hood as well. And in true Night Elven fashion, her armor, clothes and body is adorned with various ornaments, jewelry and large and small feathers from various feathered creatures that she has hunted down.

During winter time, she will often combine her armor with a more warmer winter coat underneath in white and purple colors, mainly made from animal hide and skin.

During leisure time, she has an affinity for simple yet elegant silk dresses.

Biography:
Rithrynn was born in a smaller village in the north western part of the great forest of Ashenvale by a family of bakers, and is the fourth daughter of her mother and sixth daughter of her father. She only grew up with one sister, as her mother gave birth to the three first two hundred years before her birth.

As soon as she could run, she was already spending most of her time in the woods, and constantly pestering her elders to join them whenever they went out to hunt. She was described as full of energy to the point many of the villagers created a rumor that she never actually slept. By the time she had the strength to draw an arrow, she had already made her own bow and was out hunting by herself in the woods, but was often reprimanded both by her parents and her community for her tendency to simply shoot anything she found in the woods, including dead animals. Indeed, she "accidentally" shot her older sister in the buttocks once, an incident that spawned a chaotic feud between the two that ended up in a small forest fire. When she was in her late teens, she had already enacted a small genocide of the wildlife around her village, decimating the animal populations living about. This was the last straw for the Elder council of the village, who decided that her wanton slaughter of all non-elven life was upsetting the natural balance and creating a shortage of animals in the area, and thus they deviced a plan to get rid of her.

They decided that she would probably fit in better with the Sentinels, Night Elven warriors tasked with guarding the forests. And that is how Rithrynn, involuntarily, was sent(forced) to apply as a sentinel within the closest roaming Night Elven warband at the age of 19. Although she missed her village, she soon began to realize that she liked the new warband better. They did not judge her for her liberal form of archery. Instead, they saw talent and untapped potential, and they helped her perfect her archery. And all of them shared her same enthusiasm for putting holes in things!

She also learned, however, just how miserable a person could be under the hellish training regime of her new warband, and was reminded how much she hated authority; a concept which her mistress and Captain, Serphia, literally embodied.
Rithrynn was not the first unruly and mischievous sentinel that Serphia had had to deal with, but despite numerous disciplinary actions, had a tendency to still lurk responsibilities and tasks, and sometimes even go off on her own. This spawned further disciplinary actions that affected the entire warband, something which did not help her reputation. But one thing that may have kept her sisters view of her from going from just annoying to hostile might have been Rithrynn's talent as a cook and baker, as the recipes she had learned from her parents helped restore whatever good will that was lost from her sisters for her quarrels with Serphia. Still, Rithrynn found herself often being the scapegoat for her sisters whenever something went wrong, and of all the friendships she made in the warband, there is none she regrets more than that with a fellow sentinel called Naliyah who developed a ceaseless crush for her that she is unable to escape regardless of how hard she tries, and being stuck in the same warband doesn't help!

But despite whatever shenanigans and in-fighting that might occur within her warband, they would always forget about them completely whenever an external enemy showed up.

Since then, she has roamed the lands of Ashenvale and beyond with the rest of her sisters in her warband which by now is her home, going on adventures, turning outsiders into pin-cushions, raiding & pillaging, sabotaging peace treaties, and upholding the balance of nature through the relentless genocide of animals, orcs and other humanoid creatures who made the mistake of existing too close to their land.

Hidden 8 yrs ago 8 yrs ago Post by rivaan
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Name: Meirie Leran
Age: 2320
Class: Warrior – Berserker

Description: Meirie is a 2.30m tall draenei woman, with pale blue skin, shoulder length light brown messy hair and a pair of slightly curved horns pointing backwards. She has youthful face like most women of her race and looks around 25 years old at most in human standards. She is quite beautiful, but always has a strange air of sadness around her. Additionally on her skin could be seen a number of different scars, mostly left by war wounds.

Years prior when she took part in the fighting in Outland and Northrend, Meirie was always dressed in her full red plate armor, dual wielding a pair of 2 handed swords.

Now her usual clothing consists of a big loose blouse that she wears without much thought, a pair of short pants, and a pair of metal leg guards.



Biography: Meirie’s story is long, but the most important part of it starts around the time when the orcs were being corrupted by the demons, slowly pushed towards wiping out the draenei. The draenei were not prepared for what was to happen and Meirie was one of them. One day by complete chance when she was exploring the wilds, she stumbled upon a strange gathering of orcs. Assuming that something was going on and they may need help, she approached, but it turned out she stumbled right into the hands of a warlock gathering. To her horror, realizing what was going on, she tried to fight and escape to warn her people, but she was not armed enough to fight such great numbers. She was an incredible warrior, but she was only armed with a spear at the time. Eventually she got captured and dragged away to some tower where they locked her up. Following her capture, she was put through countless experiments and torture, as her captors didn't even consider her a living being.

She had no idea for how long she was captured, for the constant tortures and drugs and whatever else the warlocks wanted, kept her in almost constant state of confusion. Eventually in her daze, she overheard some of the warlocks talking about her worst nightmares, they planned to lead the orc tribes towards the purge of all draenei. After that event, Meirie pulled all her willpower, trying to figure out an escape attempt that will allow her to warn her people. The only good opportunity was when she was being tortured.

Following her plan the next day, when she was taken out from her cell for the daily fun of the warlocks, she put her scheme into motion. Her captors liked to hang her by the chain on her arms on a hook attached to the ceiling. As she was hung there, they began cutting at her skin with grotesque blades, so serrated that there was no way the wounds will heal normally. In a rush of power, fueled by desperation and pain, she managed to violently jump from her position and unhook herself from the ceiling. In a single terrifying for the warlocks moment, she snapped their necks before they can react and jumped out the window of hte tower into the river outside.

In the next few days, she struggled to crawl back to the nearest draenei settlement, but by the time she managed it was already too late. In the end she never had the chance to warn them after all. It all had happened way before she overheard the warlocks. At that time her confused mind had took that they were talking about events to come, while they were actually recalling what already transpired. The thing she arrived at was the aftereffects of a genocide. Her homevillage was burned to the ground, nothing left alive. With trembling feet she crept to her home, where she found 3 charred bodies. Her family... her people... there was nothing left. In her mind the warrior had failed them. She somehow managed to pull together again, for she was convinced there was no way all her people were dead. With tears on her face, she slowly walked away from her destroyed home,

Through the wilderness she walked, her eyes barely open as she struggled against her own dying body. Meirie had no idea where she was going, she only knew she had to continue to move, to find something... someone... Eventually when she was at the end of her strength and her legs finally gave away, she saw the most horrible sight of them all. Even from the great distance it was posible to clearly see the long blue road... leading to a huge stone gateway. Her heart froze in that one moment, for she understood why the road was blue... it was the corpses of countless draenei. In that one moment her mind could no longer take it and she simply broke. Her body lossing it's final strength and she crumbled onto the ground.

She was soon after found by draenei survivors who were fleeing away and she was taken with them. But she never really recovered after that day. She would simply lay there, sleeping and even the most powerful healers of the draenei couldn't do anything to aid her mind. They healed the wounds on her body, but she never woke up. She slept through the following years until the crash of the Exodar in Azeroth.

At first her body was weak from all the years of sleep she went through, but she slowly regained her strenght as she took part in the unfolding events in this new world. Still deeply wounded by the events of the past, she never really spoke much, but she had changed. Now possessing an intense hatred for orcs, the once calm warrior had become a fierce berserker. Leaving behind the spear, she once again picked up the sword as a weapon, but now wielding a pair of two handed ones, wearing full plate armor, she waged a crazed battle against all enemy she met. She took part in the worst fighting again as the legion started to invade through the dark portal, and then again in Northrend against the Lichking, but nothing really led her to find peace with her past. After the fall of the scourge she simply left everything. Leaving behind her armor and swords in Exodar, she vanished into the world. Where no one knew her.

Eventually she made her way to Stormwind, where she started living a humble life. She became a warrior trainer, the wage was mininal, but with a few odd jobs here and there, it was about enough for a rent in an inn and to get herself wasted every night in a cheap tavern somewhere. Her existance in Stormwind caused quite a few gossips for the normal humans who rarely came in contact with other races besides the adventurers who appeared every now and then, wondered what exactly she was doing there. Many couldn't really understand why would someone like her live the way she is. She didn't really have much friends if any and she was constantly broke, having to loan money from others every now and then. Even warriors with whom she once fought side by side couldn't recognize her as they passed each other in the streets of Stormwind.

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