Post by Zahrie on Feb 25, 2011 14:09:09 GMT -5
((Character history is written from a diary perspective. It is still a work in progress, but I wanted to go ahead and post it to give some insight on my character.))
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The book lies open on the table. Its pages are worn and stained yellow from the squalid air of the decaying room.
Diary,
Today began like any other. I rose by the lamplight of my small room to begin my daily chores. I threw back the curtains to dust the windowsills and then my my mind lifted the veils of my past.
My mother died before my young mind could gather any real recollection of her. All I know or possess about my mother I wear encased in a tiny silver locket secured in the pocket of my dress. She wears a look of sadness about her in the picture, and I can only make guesses as to why. She's tragically beautiful.
My father made his living as a seaman. When he could no longer care for his only daughter, (that being me) he abandoned me into the winds, alone to shiver in the rain, kissing me goodbye with the stench of alcohol that he always wore on his breath. I remember chasing after him, crying as he didn’t bother looking back, and I don’t remember him loving me, even once.
Several days passed when my Uncle found me wandering lost in the forest, and took me to the slave market and sold me for a small sack of coins. I refuse to write what happened during those years, even to you, diary. Those are the memories I refused even Kaven.
Kaven.
Kaven…the savoir who salvaged me in a loving smile. He was my everything. My hope, my future, my sanity, my love, my sweet and devoted husband. My sin’dorei. He taught me the history of my race. He told me where I came from. He made my ancestry tolerable so that I did not hate myself, or it, for the abuse I endured at the hands of it.
I would listen to him talk for hours. His voice encapsulated the very essence of the stories he would tell. My head on his lap, his fingers coiled in my hair, and I could still feel the burning hot Aezoroth sun somehow. Its fuming rays scorching the ground in protest as the people prepared for a battle already lost. Iron, metal, and plate clamored in my ears as the scourge attacks destroyed the old race. The feeling of how Kaven’s body vibrated with excitement as he told how Kael’thas had gathered up the remains of his people and made promise of a new day.
He wove those old stories like an intricately designed tapestry so that I might understand what I was, that there was more to me than the wayfarer that left me…more to me than the years I lost as a slave to my own kind.
I was so in love.
We lived many years in peace, but the need for adventure and lust for battle that drove my husband began to take over our lives. By then I had nearly mastered the Holy magic that I had been training for, and my husband believed that I was adept enough with my magic that he began training me for the arena.
My sin’dorei, your passions destroyed us both.
It was raining that day. The gloomy earth threatened even my mood. I told Kaven that my armor needed repaired, that I was not ready, but it was too late and the battle had begun.
The thick wooden doors opened and the humans charged us. What followed afterwards pains me too much to tell, for what happens to a living muse, whom is brought to life, then ceases to exist in the poet’s eyes?
If only I could have saved you.
I sit here now, my head hanging low in defeat, haunted by memories that are left free to roam and torment like an unchained ghost. The memory of how my tear filled eyes aligned for the last time with his.
My sin’dorei gone forever.
So with unwavering abandonment I walked away from my Holy ways. What good was the light if the darkness was forever behind it? I vowed to myself to learn Shadow magic so that I could avenge my husband.
And, so, I have passed the years in quiet solitude. Kaven no longer intoxicating the room with his laughter nor the poetic smile that always danced at his lips, I immersed myself in my books, practicing new spells, so that when the time came I would be ready to seek revenge upon my husband’s murderers.
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Beside the table there is a crumpled up piece of paper on the floor. It reads:
Mason,
Please reserve a room for me at the Silvermoon City Inn. I come by way of griffon within the week's end,arriving sometime before midnight. My studies are nearly finished. Now the time is upon us.
Zahrie
*********************************************************************************************************************
The book lies open on the table. Its pages are worn and stained yellow from the squalid air of the decaying room.
Diary,
Today began like any other. I rose by the lamplight of my small room to begin my daily chores. I threw back the curtains to dust the windowsills and then my my mind lifted the veils of my past.
My mother died before my young mind could gather any real recollection of her. All I know or possess about my mother I wear encased in a tiny silver locket secured in the pocket of my dress. She wears a look of sadness about her in the picture, and I can only make guesses as to why. She's tragically beautiful.
My father made his living as a seaman. When he could no longer care for his only daughter, (that being me) he abandoned me into the winds, alone to shiver in the rain, kissing me goodbye with the stench of alcohol that he always wore on his breath. I remember chasing after him, crying as he didn’t bother looking back, and I don’t remember him loving me, even once.
Several days passed when my Uncle found me wandering lost in the forest, and took me to the slave market and sold me for a small sack of coins. I refuse to write what happened during those years, even to you, diary. Those are the memories I refused even Kaven.
Kaven.
Kaven…the savoir who salvaged me in a loving smile. He was my everything. My hope, my future, my sanity, my love, my sweet and devoted husband. My sin’dorei. He taught me the history of my race. He told me where I came from. He made my ancestry tolerable so that I did not hate myself, or it, for the abuse I endured at the hands of it.
I would listen to him talk for hours. His voice encapsulated the very essence of the stories he would tell. My head on his lap, his fingers coiled in my hair, and I could still feel the burning hot Aezoroth sun somehow. Its fuming rays scorching the ground in protest as the people prepared for a battle already lost. Iron, metal, and plate clamored in my ears as the scourge attacks destroyed the old race. The feeling of how Kaven’s body vibrated with excitement as he told how Kael’thas had gathered up the remains of his people and made promise of a new day.
He wove those old stories like an intricately designed tapestry so that I might understand what I was, that there was more to me than the wayfarer that left me…more to me than the years I lost as a slave to my own kind.
I was so in love.
We lived many years in peace, but the need for adventure and lust for battle that drove my husband began to take over our lives. By then I had nearly mastered the Holy magic that I had been training for, and my husband believed that I was adept enough with my magic that he began training me for the arena.
My sin’dorei, your passions destroyed us both.
It was raining that day. The gloomy earth threatened even my mood. I told Kaven that my armor needed repaired, that I was not ready, but it was too late and the battle had begun.
The thick wooden doors opened and the humans charged us. What followed afterwards pains me too much to tell, for what happens to a living muse, whom is brought to life, then ceases to exist in the poet’s eyes?
If only I could have saved you.
I sit here now, my head hanging low in defeat, haunted by memories that are left free to roam and torment like an unchained ghost. The memory of how my tear filled eyes aligned for the last time with his.
My sin’dorei gone forever.
So with unwavering abandonment I walked away from my Holy ways. What good was the light if the darkness was forever behind it? I vowed to myself to learn Shadow magic so that I could avenge my husband.
And, so, I have passed the years in quiet solitude. Kaven no longer intoxicating the room with his laughter nor the poetic smile that always danced at his lips, I immersed myself in my books, practicing new spells, so that when the time came I would be ready to seek revenge upon my husband’s murderers.
*********************************************************************************************************************
Beside the table there is a crumpled up piece of paper on the floor. It reads:
Mason,
Please reserve a room for me at the Silvermoon City Inn. I come by way of griffon within the week's end,
Zahrie
Founded April 26, 2005