Getting to know you...

[Kassia]

Character Name: Kassia Fulgrove
Race: Human
Class: Rogue
Talent Spec: Assassination [ 21 ] Combat [ 10 ] Subtlety [ 18 ]
Professions: Mining [ 145 ] Enchanting [ 278 ]
Character Goals: Becoming one of the best rogues in the lands of Azeroth! And maybe meeting that someone special.

Player Goals: Level 60! [ 10 1/2 bars damnit ] And raiding and grouping more. Rping more too..

Background:
Born the eldest of three girls, Kassia Marie Fulgrove in the town of Darkshire. Kassia knew her calling, her entire life. Able to sneak through the shadows past the undead and monsters that ravaged the lands of Darkshire and Duskwood, to find little cubbies to play, and hide things she had picked from the townspeople. She was to be a rogue of the Alliance! Her mother begged that she go to school, become a member of the NIght Watch! But Kassia had witnessed the vile abomniation Stitches, tear through many of the Night Watch in a rampage, and refused such a life. Those guards had no chance. She would stand up to creatures such as Stitches, and would do it all over Azeroth.

Kassia went to Northshire. Leaving her mother and youngest sister in the care of Jacintha, the middle of the girls. There she met with many new people.. learning and exploring the towns of Northshire, and then she was asked to help defend Goldshire! This was such an amazing journey as she headed down the dirt path from the Northshire Abbey to Goldshire. The town looked almost like Darkshire had, before the undead came. From Goldshire she found herself in Westfall and then Lakeshire... then.. Kassia was asked to report to Darkshire.

Going home was like a slap in the face to her mother. Being sent all over in service of the Alliance instead of protecting her home, under the tag of the Night Watch. Kassia avoided her mother and met secretly with her sisters when she could. Staying in the Scarlet Raven Inn, instead of home. Kassia moved on as fast as she could through Darkshire.. heading north, into the Dwarven lands on Dun Morogh and into Southshore. Kassia said goodbye to her sisters.. knowing she would see them soon as they made their way into their training. Her mother turned her back.. so Kassia did as well. Never again to step foot in Darkshire.

[ Done for now, at work >.< And I have yet another headache. ]

 

[Kristivas]

Assassin, Spy, Slave..

Character Name: Kassanna Silvermane
Race: Human
Class: Rogue
Talent Spec: Assassination/Subtlety (imp. sap rogue)
Professions: Herbalism/Alchemy
Character Goals: Unknown at this time, other than to serve her 'boss'.
Player Goals: Level 60, find some decent daggers.

Background:
The Silvermane family was once a proud and noble clan, owning many farms in the land of Lordaeron. When the plague hit and the scourge began to ravage the lands, all of their holdings were lost. Fleeing to Stormwind, Vestar Silvermane squandered the remainder of the family savings on get-rich-quick schemes. He died shortly there-after.

The remainder of the family broke up and went about their seperate ways. Quite a few of them, not knowing how to put in a day's work, fell to begging. One man, however, found a different lifestyle.

Corias Silvermane had always been good at judging a person's character. It had served his Father, Vestar, quite well in the hay-day of their business. Now, that talent was turned toward another matter entirely: Gambling. He had to support his young daughter, Kassanna, who's Mother was a victim of the plague. Corias had a passion for cards, and was quite good at it too. Not good enough to support he noble lifestyle he and Kassanna once enjoyed, but good enough to not have to dirty his hands. Long nights of drinking and gambling paid off well, for Corias... well, except for one thing.

Dellia Sar was a serving girl in Old Town. She was a ravishing girl, and probably the reason for many of the tavern's business. Many men spent night after night trying to gain Dellia's affection, but she only had eyes for one: a gambler named Corias.

As things usually end up in such situations, Corias found himself spending many nights in bed with the beautiful Dellia and thought nothing more of it, until the morning he opened his door to find himself face to face with Gregor Sar, Dellia's Father. Gregor had a little problem. It seemed Dellia had ended up carrying a child, so it also seemed there would be a wedding.. or else. Corias, grudgingly, agreed.

Kassanna couldn't say she had abusive parents. Actually, she couldn't really say she had any parents at all. Corias and her Step-Mother Dellia avoided each other, and her, like the plague. Dellia never let her near her baby brother, Selias. She learned to fend for herself. Many of the folk in Old Town knew the girl and of her parents, and fell in love with her adorable charm. By the time she was twelve, Kassanna found herself invited to dinner at a different house nearly every night of the week.

By fourteen, she began stealing from the masses of Stormwind, sparing only 'her own' people of Old Town. Many of the coins she pocketed went to her adopted families. Corias and Dellia either didn't know what their daughter was up to, or they just didn't care and that suited Kassanna just fine.

By sixteen, Kassanna decided it was time to see more of the world. She left on the tram with her closest friend, a boy she'd considered her little brother for years now, Demitri. When Kassanna and Demitri reached Ironforge, they found new prey on which to practice their craft. All went well, for awhile.

Near the Mystic Quarter, the pair entered a house silently one evening. Inside, they found little in the way of valuables, save for a finely-crafted sword. Away they went, and had just gotten free of the house when a yell rang out from behind them. "Stop, Thieves!" A heavily armored man was charging toward them, drawing a vicious-looking axe from his side. They ran toward the Great Forge, and Kassanna knew if they were caught with the sword, then it would be enough evidence to doom them both to jail or worse.

Apparently, Demitri had figured out the same thing. He pitched the sword toward the molten lava of the forge, taking but a moment to watch as it melted, sinking into oblivion.

The two continued to run, making for the Auction House. They crossed the bridge and turned, heading for the gates. All of a sudden, Kassanna felt herself shoved into the wall where she fell in a heap, her head pounding. She looked over just in time to see Demitri on his knees, the man's axe at his throat.

"Wait! No, please! It was my idea, not his! Leave him be, he's just a kid!" she yelled.

The man tilted his head and seemed to regard her thoughtfully, though she could still see the rage in his eyes. "You weren't the one who pitched my best friend's.. my dead best friend's.. sword into the forge! That was very dear to me, it is a debt that cannot be repaid!" he looked down at Demitri again, speaking low as his eyes narrowed "Except with blood."

"Is a sword really worth a life?! It's just steel!" she cried, feeling desperate. Her hand reached down to her dagger. Surely she would be killed, but maybe she could give Demitri enough time to escape.

"It was worth enough that you would try and take it from me. Would you take this boy's place, then? Would you stand under my axe and accept punishment?" He looked at her again, arching a brow.

Kassanna sighed, nodding a little. She lifted her hand from her dagger and rose slowly to her feet, still a bit dizzy from slamming into the wall. She approached the man and Demitri, offering her hand out to him. The man lowered his axe as Demitri stood, clearly shaking. "Go back to Stormwind, Demitri. Your Mother will miss you if you're gone too long. Go, and don't come back here again."

"Kass, no!" he started to protest, but she simply shot him 'that look' she gave when she meant business. Demitri nodded, tears welling up in his eyes as he turned and began to run away.

Kassanna looked back to the man, her lower lip trembling slightly. "I don't want to die."

The man pondered for a moment, looking Kassanna up and down. His lips curled to a grin that made her skin crawl. "Fine, I'll spare your life, but only if it belongs to me. Do you agree? Decide swiftly."

She'd heard tales of such Endentured Servitude before, but never thought she'd see it first hand, let alone enter into such an 'agreement'. Still, she didn't want to feel that axe slicing deep into her flesh. Kassanna didn't want her time on Azeroth to end now. Maybe she could escape later. She nodded to the man, speaking low, almost in a whisper. "I agree."

She returned with the man, back to his house. The first night was painful, as it was her first time with a man. The second night was much worse, because that's when he branded her inner thigh with his mark.

------

Months passed. Her 'boss' didn't make her call him Master.. not in public, anyway. He maintained a good image, and she took on the role of his assistant. When the two were alone, things were very different. The man taught her combat, bought her weaponry, provided armor for her. He saw to it that a friend of his, a rogue of many years experience, trained her well in the art of stealth.

Kassanna learned to cook, sew, and clean as well. When the man found her fiddling around in the alchemist's shop, he also paid for her to learn it's mysteries. She even found their 'nightly passtime' pleasing as well after growing used to it.

After a time, the man introduced her to his companions. She'd never been around so many Gnomish mages before, but she grew to like them all as well.

One morning as she woke, she looked over to see the man standing over the bed, looking down at her with a slight grin. She returned the smile, sitting up as she stretched her naked form beneath the fur blanket.

"Get up.." he tossed a bag of coins onto the bed beside her. "I have many errands for you to take care of. The problem is, you're getting a little slow in your old age." She gasped, being seventeen, she hardly felt old. "I think it's time you went and bought yourself a horse."

She was stunned. Horses were a lot of money, she never dreamed she'd have enough. Reaching out, she tentatively lifted the bag. It was heavy! She looked up to the man as though expecting it all to be a joke, but he simply nodded at her.

Kassanna grinned as she jumped out of bed, moving over to the dresser to find clothes. She dressed quickly and headed for the door, stopping beside the man as she leaned up to place a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you, Master Kristivas."

 

[Jeanu]

Lone wolf...

Character Name: Jeanu Di'Assaht
Race: Night Elf
Class: Hunter
Talent Spec: Survivalist
Professions: Leatherworking(elemental), Skinning
Character Goals: Search out those who would disrupt the peace and bring them to justice.
Player Goals: Aquire Eqic Mount, Full Beastalker Set, Complete MC/BWL/Onyxia

My story is a long one. Intertwined in myth and legend of the world we now know. As old as the night elves themselves. But I will spare you the details of my youth, as it were.

My linage dates back to the dawning ages of man. Our hands molded the elven lands, shaping the things to come. We were revered and honored among all the races of the land in those distant days. Di'Assaht was a name known to all. So it came to be that we were charged with the safety of our lands. Protect our borders, ensure the tree of life lays untouched by mortal hands. This was our task, ours alone.... we failed.

Scorned and outcast from our homelands, our name fell to ruin. Our lineage, our past, and most certainly our future were lost. Those who bore our name were hunted like Orcs in the sewers of Iron Forge. Relentlessly they chased us. Most were murdered on site. The hatred overwhelming even the most wise elf. With our numbers dwindling, and our namesake lost, we scattered. Sheading ourselves of all that we were. Abandoning our ounce proud name. Venturing aimlessly into the world, in search of a new way, a new honor.

For centuries those that remained went unnoticed. Hidden behind a vail of secrecy, we lived out our lives in shadow. Those who spoke of their past were sure to be hunted to their death. Few of us gathered together again, for fear that some may discover our secret. We live this way still. Moving from place to place. Never getting to close, never speaking of our past.

Now, in this new age, in this new conflict, I wonder the borders. I seek to restor my honor, and my family name. Carefully, I stalk the world. Searching for the right time, the right plan, the right people to aid my cause.

My life, my story, is one of desperation.. seclusion... and hope. I share these memories now, knowing what may come to follow, in the hopes that the hatred for my family has subsided over the ages. For know, I walk alone... but soon, I will walk proud! With my friends, and family, at my side!

My story to yours, our paths intertwined.
Jeanu, Di'Assaht.

_______________________________________
(please forgive my spelling errors, I'm a horrable speller. )

 

[kotik2]

Yes, I edited Ven. I decided they needed to be older, and Ven was the only post that mentioned anything that resembled an age.

Stickied too, because it would be nice for this post to grow with the guild, although sadly in reading it over, Jeanu and Kassanna are no longer in the guild...

 

[Kristivas]

I pretty much sold everything on Kassanna and retired her. All she has left is a sexy robe, and a philosipher's stone to do arcanite transmutes for cash or any guildies that need one. Nothing personal in that, she's just never going to be played again.

I also deleted Huwiik and Nymerik. Sold all their stuff and deleted em.

Yay gold pieces for me!

 

[Kristivas]

Character Name: Jeanu Di'Assaht

Change that around, and it spells...

Jeanu Di'asshat!

HAHAHA LOL OMG PWN!

(it's 3:40 am, what do you expect?!??!!!11eleventyone1!)

 

[Kristivas]

[While not a member of EN, seeing as how he's on the Horde side.. I figured I'd post Ascent's background anyway. Afterall, before he became Forsaken, Gregory was a good guy and mighta had a place in EN as a human warrior. Yeah, I know, character's fuled by tragedy are common.. but in a 'land ravaged by war', how can you NOT have them?! Read on and post your comments if you like/dislike!

Oh, my knowledge of the Warcraft storyline isn't 100%, but to a Forsaken, some things are bound to get twisted around.]



"Elric, I'm so sorry. Daddy's so sorry.."


His nails dug into the stone floor until each fingernail cracked, being torn backwards savagely. His gaze remained on the throne of Lordaeron as his soul wept, but no tears could fall from this corpse that still moved as though he were a part of the natural world. He had been awoken, as an abomination, still crying. The Forsaken were supposed to have forgotten their former lives, and it would have been a blessing to this particular piece of rotting flesh, who's anguish still swirled from deep within. He had mused to himself that perhaps having his soul shattered and his heart broken just hours before his death had somehow preserved his mind after it's vile transformation.


-He had been Gregory Marshal Vastul, a blacksmith and proud citizen of Lordaeron. His swords and shields were carried by nearly all ranks of the great Alliance army, and he was honored among his people. Though Gregory had brought himself from poverty to attain a good position in society, it wasn't the money or the respect he cared about like he had in his younger days. Gregory's life was focused and revolved around his son, Elric.

He'd accepted a marraige of convenience to a woman whom he neither loved, nor hated. Gregory had simply gone through the motions of family life, until Elric was born. Something at his son's birth stirred within him, changing him forever. Gregory quickly gave up drinking, after-work gambling, the attentions of local !@!#&s, and even trying to advance beyond his station. Of every two coins he made, one was saved for Elric's future.-


The corpse rose, heedless of the other Forsaken who'd stopped by to watch him curiously. He wanted to lash out at them all, hit them, kick them, bite them, destroy them. To those he didn't destroy, he hoped would crush his undead skull once and for all, that he might stop living.. could this even be called living? Or stop existing in this damnable state.

However, he simply walked past them all. Their murmers that he wasn't right or that he should've stayed buried longer went on ignored. He wandered, mindlessly, until he was well beyond Lordaeron as the sun sank on the horizon, memories returned to his rotting mind.


-There was a lot of money to be made for serving in the army, and though he had saved up quite a bit by the time Elric turned four, it wasn't enough to him. When he was a child, Gregory had wanted to become a great mage, studying at Dalaran or Stormwind, but his family was far too poor to afford such training. It was only by being apprenticed out was he able to learn a trade at all. Gregroy knew his Mother had tried hard for him, and he loved her for it. He accepted the apprenticeship and became the best he could be out of respect for her, though she didn't live long to know his accomplishments.

But wars were waging, and Gregory knew it was a good chance to serve the army and save even more money. He bid his wife and son farewell and left for distant shores to fight in the name of Lordaeron.-


Sitting at the edge of a cliff, staring down at the jagged rocks and crashing waves below, the corpse wondered if such a long fall would be enough to kill him. He stared, almost longingly, at death below. He almost felt himself moving toward it, but something held him back. There was a deep rage buried beneath the sadness, and it was fighting to come to the surface. What, he wondered, was this hatred that kept him from crashing hundreds of feet below and being rejoined with his beloved son?

The corpse looked up suddenly, eyes widened. He stared intently at the moon as the focus of his rage came screaming into his filthy, rotting brain. There was someone.. no, something.. to whom he owed a great revenge. There was something that caused the destruction of his land, the devestation of his people, and the death of the only one whom he'd ever truly loved. That something was the Lich King.


-Gregory ran toward what the others were calling the Plaguelands. There was civil war now as corpses were fighting each other. He had been away for four years and a cataclysm had struck Lordaeron. He passed others telling him to turn back as they fled toward the few ships that were still picking up the fleeing masses. He ignored warnings and passed by groups of soldiers trying to fight back the Scourge. When a mindless undead would get in his way, his sword rang true. Bloodied and exhausted, Gregory burst through the door of his house. The smell that he found was sickening, and he felt as though he'd been struck in face with it.

A few of the survivors had all gathered at Gregory's house to barricade themselves against the horror. Many lay dead on the floor, human and Scourge alike. Few were left alive within when he finally bashed his way into the cellar. He pushed the corpse of his wife aside, lifting his son into his arms. Elric had grown since Gregory had last seen him and appeared to have been becoming a strong lad. Now, the boy was pale, weakened, emaciated. His left arm heavily bandaged in dirty linen from being bitten into by the foul Scourge that he had tried to fight off as it killed his Mother. Tears streamed down Gregory's face as the boy smiled up at him.

He had been brave, Elric had said. He had tried to fight when they broke in, and he apologized for not being able to save his Mother. He had tried not to be scared, he knew his Daddy wouldn't want him to be afraid. He tried not to be scared even though he knew he was going to die. Everyone who got bit died, then they got up and became zombies too.

Gregory held Elric until the end, even after all of the others had fled. He told him stories of the places he'd seen and of how he had missed him. He got to tell Elric how proud he was of him, and that he wouldn't let him become a zombie after he went to sleep for the last time.

When the end finally came, Gregory's sword was used a final time to ensure that his boy would not rise as one of the abominations. He sat beside the body afterward, crying and broken, for how long he didn't know. There had been a crash in the house above him, and his world was plunged into darkness.-


The corpse wished he could shed tears. The anger, bitterness, and sadness seemed to be all that he could feel now. His bones creaked as he headed toward the Undercity, again ignoring those looking him over. There would be no sword for him anymore. This time, he would learn magecraft. He would take advantage of those gathered together as Forsaken. He would rise again. As Gregory had risen out of poverty, he would rise from the ashes of despair to turn himself into a machine built for revenge. As his body rose from the grave, he would rise to power until he could blight the Scourge and the ones responsible for it's creation. Gregory was dead, but he would rise again, and he would ascend.