((Hello Cc, I have been playing wow since Molten Core was the place to be. I have been on frostmane since 2004 up until the last few months. I have never experienced RP and thus far I am thoroughly enjoying myself. The best part is taking this warrior I have had for nearly 8 years now and giving him life. The story to follow is the story of Lunaeis. I am not a writer and my knowledge on lore is still growing...as a raid junky lore was ignored but I am taking the time to learn and if you read any major flaws please feel free to enlighten me. Thank you.))
He matches my every step, the faster I run the more ground he gains. When at last I believe to have lost the beast he appears before me. Pinned under his massive weight I stare deep into his silver stained eyes. There is no love, no happiness locked within this beast, only rage. This rage consumes all and the very essence of my soul begins to weaken to its thirst. Again I awake covered in sweat at the nights last dream. It haunts me, the beast never leaves, always lurking in the shadows of my heart.
I was born the son of Talendrill Lightfall, a Night elf Ambassador who often sat at the kings table of Stormwind and was accepted as an ally to many of the Wrynn household. It was there he met Abigaile Hunter, one of the queens personal maids who he had grown fond of. Over many months and many visits they had fallen in love with another. As a grace of gratitude to my father the King of Stormwind had persuaded his queen to allow her maid to be released of her servitude so that she could be with my father. About a year later, as my mother tells it, I was born in our home in Dolanaar.
My families lineage lies in the great stories of Goldrinn. My father never fostered the wolf blood that surged through our veins and unfortunately I learned too late why. When I was but 12 I came home after a day of teachings with my Shan’do to find my mother embraced by Sharadin, one of my fathers comrades, she was weeping in his arms. While my father was returning from one of his quest to Stormwind he and his men were attacked and although he was able to save his men he did not make it through the battle. It wouldn’t be till much later in my life until I would know the full details of my fathers last day. Had I known then what I know now so much may have been different.
While my father was alive his name garnered me a certain amount of respect amongst my teachers and my peers. My Father had earned the trust of many men and was seen as a great diplomat and a strong Druid amongst the Kaldorei. But with his passing, new men filled his place and the respect of my pears dwindled in time. What remained was the fact that I was only half blood and not a true Night Elf, it didn’t help that as a grew older my features resembled my human side more than my elf. Without close examination you could hardly tell I had any elf blood at all. Classes were not easy, my human sided hindered me, the other kids were faster, stronger, and more agile then I. But what I lacked in physical strengths I vastly exceeded in rage and the great wolf blood that poured through my veins only intensified my ferocity.
Ralaar, son of my fathers sister saw this inside of me. Ralaar was much older then I and nearing the end of his studies. He was a druid like few others having mastered spells and abilities many his age didn’t dare attempt. He was arrogant but as a young half-blood I was eager to have someone to look up to. It was Ralaar that first taught me the pack form and of our common ancestor Goldrinn. I liked the power, and Ralaar could see how the strength of my human will fed off the powers of the pack. Ralaar, Arvell his closest friend and I would often go to the far corners of Teldrassil and practice our forms. The two were more experienced but I had grown bigger and stronger in my age, besting them on many occasions. Ralaar and I began to expand our teachings to new pupils and we grew.
He matches my every step, the faster I run the more ground he gains. When at last I believe to have lost the beast he appears before me. Pinned under his massive weight I stare deep into his silver stained eyes. There is no love, no happiness locked within this beast, only rage. This rage consumes all and the very essence of my soul begins to weaken to its thirst. Again I awake covered in sweat at the nights last dream. It haunts me, the beast never leaves, always lurking in the shadows of my heart.
I was born the son of Talendrill Lightfall, a Night elf Ambassador who often sat at the kings table of Stormwind and was accepted as an ally to many of the Wrynn household. It was there he met Abigaile Hunter, one of the queens personal maids who he had grown fond of. Over many months and many visits they had fallen in love with another. As a grace of gratitude to my father the King of Stormwind had persuaded his queen to allow her maid to be released of her servitude so that she could be with my father. About a year later, as my mother tells it, I was born in our home in Dolanaar.
My families lineage lies in the great stories of Goldrinn. My father never fostered the wolf blood that surged through our veins and unfortunately I learned too late why. When I was but 12 I came home after a day of teachings with my Shan’do to find my mother embraced by Sharadin, one of my fathers comrades, she was weeping in his arms. While my father was returning from one of his quest to Stormwind he and his men were attacked and although he was able to save his men he did not make it through the battle. It wouldn’t be till much later in my life until I would know the full details of my fathers last day. Had I known then what I know now so much may have been different.
While my father was alive his name garnered me a certain amount of respect amongst my teachers and my peers. My Father had earned the trust of many men and was seen as a great diplomat and a strong Druid amongst the Kaldorei. But with his passing, new men filled his place and the respect of my pears dwindled in time. What remained was the fact that I was only half blood and not a true Night Elf, it didn’t help that as a grew older my features resembled my human side more than my elf. Without close examination you could hardly tell I had any elf blood at all. Classes were not easy, my human sided hindered me, the other kids were faster, stronger, and more agile then I. But what I lacked in physical strengths I vastly exceeded in rage and the great wolf blood that poured through my veins only intensified my ferocity.
Ralaar, son of my fathers sister saw this inside of me. Ralaar was much older then I and nearing the end of his studies. He was a druid like few others having mastered spells and abilities many his age didn’t dare attempt. He was arrogant but as a young half-blood I was eager to have someone to look up to. It was Ralaar that first taught me the pack form and of our common ancestor Goldrinn. I liked the power, and Ralaar could see how the strength of my human will fed off the powers of the pack. Ralaar, Arvell his closest friend and I would often go to the far corners of Teldrassil and practice our forms. The two were more experienced but I had grown bigger and stronger in my age, besting them on many occasions. Ralaar and I began to expand our teachings to new pupils and we grew.
Edited by Lunaeis on 6/10/2012 8:40 PM PDT