Post by Jereme on Apr 27, 2010 5:57:09 GMT -5
She was raised mostly by her mother. The woman was quite domesticated and meant for higher society than they were. She settled for her father after being unable to attract a man with better station, but, grew to be happy with her choice. Her father climbing the ranks among the farstriders, was a man meant for wild solitude. When he felt the occasion to speak, he would say her mother is what made him civilized and take to defending Silvermoon. Her mother influenced her feminine nature with outright training and lessons. She learned from her father by his example, much more often than by his words. A fond rebellion to her mothers intentions, were her constant returns from play or other lessons in wild disarray.
When the aptitude became apparent, she began training in the arcane arts. The very pride of her parents she progressed a bit faster than other students, never enough to make her stand out as particularly gifted however. Her strength grew and her promise reflect in how the community viewed her family, much to her mother's delight. The were moved, allotted the choice of more socially upstanding housing. Her mother chose to be close to the bazaar.
She was en route to study with master when the scourge army appeared on the horizon. She rushed to her appointed place and fought bravely. The ax wielding corpse swung down as artillery exploded to there left. The scourge shredded by much of the force buffered the real damage that would have been done her. Still the ax piercing her flesh at nearly her temple and the pain as it cut downward and was forced in a new direction by an explosion were the last that she remembers of the day.
She was awoken by the death carts. It's handlers were lifting her to add amongst the bodies of the fallen. She little struggles and weak protests brought a healer. Her last sight before returning to blissful unconscious was the dead scar clear though the city, and the unmistakable land marks that revealing where her home should have been. She'd remember the moment with a unique clarity, the smell and sight of burning earth and rotting flesh most distinctly.
She healed slowly over the next few weeks, feeling the draw of the newly recognized addiction.
The pangs of withdrawal setting in a bit later than most the rest, was shown the horrors she would feel and go through with lucid thoughts to add new fears. She clutched to the priests, the healers holding the better while the shadow wielders were amongst the first to fall. She held tight to the little hope that the Light would fill the loss of the Sunwell.
Small salvation came as she was taught tap. She was amongst the first being one of the most trained magi left to the city. It only added to her horror as her new cautious nature left her devouring few magical creatures, and left her again in sound mind and clear sight to view her remaining friends twist and fall, becoming some of the first Wretched.
She turned from the arcane then, taking to the priests for new training. Her goal now to save herself. She learned to meditate and tapped as few creatures as she thought possible. Her body trembled most of the time and she grew thinner. She was weak and with no discernible illness to speak of, her new training was slowed incredibly. Her teachers began to refuse to give her lessons, as they decided she was letting herself waste away. Briefly she was pushed back on the path of a mage. It did not turn out well. She was nearly a wretched herself, the husks of mana wyrm littered around her when she finally connected her hunger to usage of her arcane arts.
It led her to a more positive experimentation. Forbidding herself her old class, and shouldering the ridicule of her decision she took the Light back. The newly named Sen'dorei held disdain for a lost mage. The priests barely trained her in their ways, only because she held new and distinct determination. She began to wield the Light in much her own self study as the scant lessons she receives.
Now years later and her experimentation leaving her with a balance to her addiction, she begins more purposeful priestly training. Looking to find a match for her previously destructive capabilities in her understanding of shadow, she now finds herself returning to normal as long as she holds the Light in an arrogant and fierce wielding grasp.
When the aptitude became apparent, she began training in the arcane arts. The very pride of her parents she progressed a bit faster than other students, never enough to make her stand out as particularly gifted however. Her strength grew and her promise reflect in how the community viewed her family, much to her mother's delight. The were moved, allotted the choice of more socially upstanding housing. Her mother chose to be close to the bazaar.
She was en route to study with master when the scourge army appeared on the horizon. She rushed to her appointed place and fought bravely. The ax wielding corpse swung down as artillery exploded to there left. The scourge shredded by much of the force buffered the real damage that would have been done her. Still the ax piercing her flesh at nearly her temple and the pain as it cut downward and was forced in a new direction by an explosion were the last that she remembers of the day.
She was awoken by the death carts. It's handlers were lifting her to add amongst the bodies of the fallen. She little struggles and weak protests brought a healer. Her last sight before returning to blissful unconscious was the dead scar clear though the city, and the unmistakable land marks that revealing where her home should have been. She'd remember the moment with a unique clarity, the smell and sight of burning earth and rotting flesh most distinctly.
She healed slowly over the next few weeks, feeling the draw of the newly recognized addiction.
The pangs of withdrawal setting in a bit later than most the rest, was shown the horrors she would feel and go through with lucid thoughts to add new fears. She clutched to the priests, the healers holding the better while the shadow wielders were amongst the first to fall. She held tight to the little hope that the Light would fill the loss of the Sunwell.
Small salvation came as she was taught tap. She was amongst the first being one of the most trained magi left to the city. It only added to her horror as her new cautious nature left her devouring few magical creatures, and left her again in sound mind and clear sight to view her remaining friends twist and fall, becoming some of the first Wretched.
She turned from the arcane then, taking to the priests for new training. Her goal now to save herself. She learned to meditate and tapped as few creatures as she thought possible. Her body trembled most of the time and she grew thinner. She was weak and with no discernible illness to speak of, her new training was slowed incredibly. Her teachers began to refuse to give her lessons, as they decided she was letting herself waste away. Briefly she was pushed back on the path of a mage. It did not turn out well. She was nearly a wretched herself, the husks of mana wyrm littered around her when she finally connected her hunger to usage of her arcane arts.
It led her to a more positive experimentation. Forbidding herself her old class, and shouldering the ridicule of her decision she took the Light back. The newly named Sen'dorei held disdain for a lost mage. The priests barely trained her in their ways, only because she held new and distinct determination. She began to wield the Light in much her own self study as the scant lessons she receives.
Now years later and her experimentation leaving her with a balance to her addiction, she begins more purposeful priestly training. Looking to find a match for her previously destructive capabilities in her understanding of shadow, she now finds herself returning to normal as long as she holds the Light in an arrogant and fierce wielding grasp.
Founded April 26, 2005