Sunday, February 23, 2014

Character Profile: Daera Dalamora

"I'm always watching."

The Watcher

Name: Daera Denise Dalamora
Nicknames: None
Gender: Female
Race: Human
Status: Undead, Death Knight
Family: None known.
Position: Acherus Central Watcher currently assigned to the 1113th Reformed Scourge Regiment AKA "The Knights of Menethil"
Titles: Private(Current, among the 1113th), Captain of the 1212th Reformed Scourge Regiment(Former), Watcher(Current)
Aliases: None

Appearance: A woman of average height, just under six foot, Daera Dalamora is commonly adorned in armor, save for the few times she has been convinced to do otherwise, her blue hair cut short, and her skin an ashen color. She makes no attempts to hide her state of undeath. While in public, her face is almost always devoid of emotion, her voice maintaining a cold monotone. Her general stance is that of her standing straight, hands folded behind her back, eyes constantly flicking around.

Biography: Born to parents she would never know, Daera Dalamora would spend most of her life growing up in the Stormwind Orphanage. As she grew older, her ties to it became more and more distant, before finally she ran away at the age of sixteen. Her following years would be spent living out on the various roofs of Stormwind, taking shelter elsewhere should storms come.

Daera provided for herself through thievery, taking an interest in people and their connections with each other and their positions. Many of her days would pass by with her watching those below from a rooftop, observing and trying to understand their behavior, as a sort of game. Often she would lift items off of those she found especially interesting, and keep them for herself as a sort of prize.

Years later around the time of the Scourge Invasion prior to the Northrend Campaign, Daera found herself breaking into and entering a noble's home in Elwynn, in the attempt to search through the possessions of a particular woman she had found interesting. Upon entering, there was a commotion outside, where she found the couple who lived there being slaughtered by undead who were storming the house. Fleeing through an upstairs window, she ran through the woods, before encountering another undead soldier, and falling to it.

Following the Battle for Light's Hope Chapel, she would take part in the Northrend campaign, eventually taking control of the 1212th Reformed Scourge Regiment, also known as the "Fighting 1212." The regiment would take part in the storming of Icecrown Citadel, where they would become trapped in a circle of ice and assaulted over and over by a number of undead while trying to defend an emplacement to the eastern side of the Citadel. A final push would result in the majority of the other Knights on hand being unavailable to fight, leaving Daera to push the remaining forces back.

After the Citadel had been taken, Daera, a Captain at the time, would be summoned to the depths of Acherus Central to be informed that she was being promoted for her actions. This "promotion" meant leaving her regiment to be an agent of Acherus Central, taking the position of a Watcher, which tapped into her ways during life. This position involved being assigned to various units and having to report back to Acherus Central about their activities, and on occasion also dismantling those that were designated as being too out of line and assigning their members elsewhere. Eventually she would be assigned to the 1113th, where she remains presently in what has become her longest assignment.

Personality: Cold and distant, Daera shows and says little much of the time. She identifies and proves to be highly observant, taking in and evaluating such. At times she uses this information as a way of verbally assaulting and degrading others, which is her preferred method of causing suffering. Of the few times that she has actually formed connections with people, she can still be seen struggling to not observe and evaluate that which she gathers.

OOC Comments: Created during a bit of a slow point of RP and such with my guild, I decided I wanted a character that was not an officer, and would have a reason to be directly interacting and having to dig into other people's characters. I want to say that that day I'd seen people receiving their 'employee evaluation' which actually consisted of someone sitting around and watching them work, before exiting the room and saying nothing more.

Wednesday, February 19, 2014

Character Profiles: Redamous

"Most folks have to choose between gettin' busy livin', or gettin' busy dyin'. We do a bit o' both."

The Progenitor

Name: Redamous

Nicknames: Red
Gender: Male

Race: Worgen

Status: Undead, Death Knight

Age: Thirties

Family: Nicole Malcolm(Deceased), Sara Malcolm(Deceased), Ben Malcolm(Deceased)

Position: Current General of the 1113th Reformed Scourge Regiment/Brigade/Irregulars, AKA "The Knights of Menethil"

Titles: Private(former), Corporal(former), Sergeant(former), Captain(former), Major(former), Colonel(former), General(present)

Aliases: None

Appearance: Red carries most of the traits associated with his kind, that being those of a large hulking wolf creature. Undeath has made his fear somewhere between a black and blue shade, and he stands tall even in comparison to other Worgen. His left ear is half the size of his right, with the torn appearance giving the impression that such is not a natural occurrence. He is almost always adorned in standard issue Saronite armor, noticeably lacking any sort of pauldrons or a cloak as some prefer to wear. A black and white tabard with an image of a skull to represent his unit covers this. A metal chain hangs around his neck, two rings intertwined on it. A worn leather had rests at all times on his head, holes cut in it near the sides to allow his ears room to poke out.

Biography: Nathan Malcolm, a name Redamous would have long forgotten upon being pulled back into the world of the living, was born to an average farming family a few short years prior to the raising of the Greymane Wall.

Years of growing up in such an environment would leave him longing for adventure, which would be the main factor in his joining the King's Army, being trained as a basic combatant and stand-by medic.

During a civil uprising that was a predecessor to the Northgate Rebellion, he would become separated from his squad, spending the night under a bridge to hide from passing rebels. The following morning while attempting to return home, he would cross paths with three rebels in a cramped alley, all three of them letting out loud cries. After a long scuffle, he would be the last man standing, only to find out that they had been celebrating a ceasefire.

The powers that be would take some pity on Nathan, foregoing sentencing him to prison and instead putting him to work on an estate as a servant. The next few years of his life would pass by here, before the day came where his sentence was up.

Upon returning to the city, he was met with awkward glances and hate-filled glares. While many who had remained loyal to Greymane could sympathize with his troubles, others saw him as a cold-blooded murderer, which was not made any better by the popularity of those whose lives he had ended, rebels or not.

Out of a crowd of many, one woman would show concern and compassion, offering him a place to rest his head and food while he found his way back into the swing of things out in the 'real' world again. This woman, Nicole Brenner, would eventually end up being his wife. The two would leave the city to settle on Nathan's parent's land, as they had decided the time for retirement had finally come.

Years would pass as the two's lives became filled with others. Only a dog, at first, before they were joined by two children, the first of which was Sara followed by the second, Ben. As the years passed, another thing would begin slipping into Nathan's life, more and more. Alcohol.

At first something of a social drinker, before reaching the point of being easily classified as an alcoholic, the habit would create tension between the man and his wife, until things came to a head with an argument that would involve their children being woken in the night to their parent's screaming, and ending with the majority of the family in tears. The following day, Nathan would take a walk through a forest to collect his thoughts. It was here that he would encounter a Worgen, getting into a drawn out struggle that resulted in his victory.

That night he would return home, happy to be alive. By the next morning he awoke his family around him, dead. With the locals stirring to see what the commotion was about, he fled, eventually joining up with a pack of feral Worgen as his mind slipped off to some dark corner of his head. Weeks later he would find his own end at the point of a guard's pike.

His body would be found by geists sent on a scouting mission behind the Wall on behalf of the Lich King, bringing back the Worgen to bolster the Scourge's already growing numbers. Pushed alongside those being brought in from Arugal's Wolfcult, it was almost impossible to tell the Gilnean from everyone else.

After many of the Lich King's Death Knights broke away from the Scourge, forming the Knights of the Ebon Blade, the Worgen found flashes of his life finally breaking into his mind as he regained something of himself. One of the few things he seemed to be lacking was a proper name. Finding no one to give him one, he began referring to himself as Redamous, a crude and twisted take on the word 'redemption' in his mind.

Redamous would do as the other Knights would and venture northward to pursue and put an end to the Lich King, becoming paired alongside a small group consisting of other Knights, among them varying races of the world. Looked down upon by his leading officer, he was reported to the Ebon Blade's command upon said officer's realization that he was a Worgen, which had thus far caused nothing but trouble on the eastern side of Northrend in the Grizzly Hills.

Those in command initially showed no signs of concern, but upon risking a potential outbreak of some sort, designated that the entire squadron be removed as to not cause anymore trouble. Hiring a living hunter with a vendetta against a Worgen, said hunter proceeded to defeat and return most of the Knights to death, before his defeat at the hands of a human and an elf. While the rest of the Blade continued on with their mission, those that remained decided that their time was best spent elsewhere.

Redamous would end up travelling south from the Ebon Hold, eventually finding himself in the Swamp of Sorrows where he would have an encounter with a band of highwaymen. Among them was one knowledgeable in druidic methods, who managed to lull him into a sleep. He would awaken days later to find that before they had even had the chance to go near him, a Draenei huntress had rescued him, managing to drag him back to her home. His next few weeks were spent in Outland with the Draenei and her young daughter.

The time eventually came, though, when he left, upon hearing of the Cataclysm, and the return of Gilneas to the Alliance. Taking the opportunity to return home, he recovered a few trinkets, among them a few old, long forgotten rings, and a hat which he had received as a present years before.

Near the end of the campaign against Deathwing and his cultists, Redamous would join the 1113th, or the Knights of Menethil, a unit of the Ebon Blade sworn to the Alliance. Over the next few years he would be a part of many of their exploits during that span of time, ranging from recovering brains and dealing with plagues, to situations where his commanding officers had the delusion of life.

All through that time he would slowly work his way up the ranks, despite attempts against such. Eventually he would find himself at the head of it following the forced changing of positions, or in one case retirement, of his superiors.

Personality: To many, Red appears calm, collect, and controlled. This, combined with a sarcastic, if dry, sense of humor makes him a bit easier to get along with when it comes to the living at times, though there are many occasions where others would be preferred for diplomacy. He maintains his sarcasm at almost all times, even in situations of tension. He can become serious when the situation calls for it, as well as being gentler or calmer than some others among the ranks of the Ebon Blade. If pushed far enough, though, any sign of calm can be replaced with nothing short of bloodlust for those who may be making threats to those around him.

While he generally shows some semblance of understanding for the living's distrust of his kind, he is far from immune to being disgusted by their actions and behaviors, and tends to prefer the company of the damned. Even then he can find those which he cannot stand.

Compared to his predecessors, his leadership style is lax, and he is far more personal rather than professional with those under him. Engaging them in casual conversation as well as referring to them by name over rank, this has gained him criticism from those above him, as well as less direct respect from those under him at times. When needed, he has shown the ability to press people into line, and intimidate should there be need.

Tuesday, February 4, 2014

Snow Day

Snow Day

     Snow slowly made its way to the ground from the gray skies above the already dreary countryside of Gilneas. As the night drew on, a few, namely children, would occasionally poke their heads out in the dying light to see how much had accumulated, before being told to close the door to keep the heat in. That night they would squirm with anticipation for the next morning, for they knew that the next morning was going to be one of those mornings.

     It would be one of those morning where the ground outside was no longer a just an environment for play. Over night it would become a canvas to be painted on, with the tools needed to do so scattered here, there, and everywhere in a smooth artist's palette left behind by mother nature for people to do with as they would. Not only this, but they would have free reign to do so. A day full of snow was not a day to be taught, and many chores, outside of animal feeding and perhaps scraping a path to the road, were out of the question. It was a day that was intended to be spent running about. There were snowball fights to be fought, snowmen to build, and snow angels to be made.

     At one house out in the countryside with a fair view of a nearby port, two children, a boy and a girl, would go bursting out of the house, running about with no sense of purpose for the longest time. They would be bundled up as best as they could manage on their own, tightly in coats, with mittens and thick socks and boots, lest they face their mother's wrath once she'd finally stirred. Their parents were still resting, taking the day to sleep in.

     It was only a matter of time before one of them fired the first shot, and in this case it was the girl. Soon enough snow was flying across the yard as the both of them scrambled to produce more ammunition, screaming, shouting, and laughing the entire time. “Hey!”-s and “Got you!”-s were exchanged as each tried to produce some sort of protection in the way of a fort.

     Suddenly both would be struck from the side, first the boy, then the girl. Their gazes shot to the new assailant, expecting someone from down the road ready to join into the fray, only to find their mother smirking at them, bundled up just as they were, hands stained with white snow. The fight began again with the three scrambling to get off equal shots at each other.

     Once they were all covered in snow, they began to slow, finally ceasing their conflict. One suggested that it was purpose time for a more peaceful project, and so began the construction of a snowman. When the snow was in place, they went about gathering items. A few stones from the path to their house fit the bill for the face. A carrot from the warm inside formed a nose, and a scarf was retrieved as well.

     They stood together, admiring their creation, when the children's mother turned to head inside yet again. She returned in a moment, an item clutched in her hand and soon placed on the snowman. The two snickered to themselves, nodding in approval, before they all retired inside.

(Photo drawn by myself using Paint.)