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I was speaking to a very nice gentleman today about the roleplay between the servers that we now share our home with. It's great to see that efforts are being made to branch out and interact with each other, but we both agreed that one thing made it a bit difficult.
The inability to see our roleplay descriptions through addons like TotalRP and MyRoleplay.
Since there's no way currently to make them visible to other servers, it's a bit harder to strike up random RP since there's no real factor that draws you to other people's characters. My intentions with this thread is to have a place where both off-server and on-server folks can come and post their descriptions from their RP addons so that others can see them if they so choose. That way we can have something to work with while moving towards our goal of cross-server roleplay.
Please, I ask that this thread be taken seriously. No trolling, no fighting, and no berating characters. We're all here to have fun, so let's keep this clean.
Jacklynne "Masquerade" Von Grimm
-Raven Priestess of Gilean-
Visual Aid: http://tinyurl.com/boy3fcy
Jackie has been seen with a rather imposing figure of a Night Elf. It is quite common to find her near to the green-haired individual. One could come to the conclusion that they are close, if not in a relationship.
A typical Gilnean, Jackalynne appears to be a bit stockier than women found in cities like Stormwind. Her figure is full with curves that give her a womanly charm, however, she is fit and trim where it counts.
Somewhat tanned skin is highlighted by pools of mahogany that cascade down her collarbone and shoulders, waves forming in just the right places. As of late, she is seen with her hair pulled into a tight ponytail, loose hairs only present around her face and at the nape of her neck. The small woman's eyes are almost animalistic in that they hold an odd burgundy tint with pupils that almost seem wolf-like if caught at a second glance. Full lips compliment an almost sculpted face devoid of makeup. She prefers to keep her nails manicured with a soft baby pink coating and the only type of enhancement that would ever be seen on her is likely to be a simple blush on her cheekbones or a sweep of mascara.
One might note an odd scar on her left collarbone...something that appears to be a bite mark from a large animal. It often peeks from beneath the edges of her robes as a discoloration a few shades lighter than her normal skin tone.
As a shadow priestess hailing from Gilneas, she has taken to the art of shadow ravens. As the soft, bluish-purple glow overtakes her form, small shadow ravens can be seen perching on her arms and shoulders or simply circling her being. The creatures don't seem to hold much purpose other than to act as an extension of her shadow form.
Masquerade has an obvious accent to her voice that gives her the foreign charm. The sharp pronunciations of the Gilnean people are very much present with each word.
Jackie prefers to not give her curse much stock. When she is not in the midst of battle or angered by something, she will remain in her original form, however there are times that she must don the guise of a werewolf.
In her Worgen form, her pelt is a rusty brown accented in places with a rich cream color. Having a relation to her human form, it is kept sleek and shiny due to the care of her actual mahogany locks. Burgundy still makes itself present within her wolf-like visage and a discoloration on her collarbone signifies her scar.
(She is about 7'2\" and 225 lbs. in this form).
Her namesake comes from a small masquerade half-mask that covers her right eye only, a reddish glow coming from the darkened eye circle. The mask itself is richly detailed with gemstones, filigree, and crimson feathers from a Hawkstrider.
When not in her Worgen form booking it on all fours, she can often be seen on a camel she discovered in Uldum named Cairo. Also, she will never be without a small fox kit which she has lovingly named Aesop.
Edited by Masquerade on 12/29/2012 1:23 PM PST
( As someone from Argent Dawn, I'll go ahead and post my bit in here next. )
Name: Robin Greye Agalladorn
Eye color: Green
Height/weight: 5'11, 197 lbs.
Robin Agalladorn stood near six feet tall, far from being a towering behemoth as some may be in Azeroth. He is rather lean and quite toned in body type, having a balanced amount of muscle spread across his whole body. He is in a quite well kept state of body, most especially in his age. He is well tanned, as is most people in Azeroth as time spent outdoors working is quite frequent for all types. He was quite scarred along his whole being, taking form in abrasive patches of skin from burns where the skin tissue may be both light and unusually darker, to various sized slices and puncture wounds.
The hair that droops down in it's straight, thin manner over his ears and down to his eyebrows is rather frizzy in manner, the hair itself starting to gain a graying look, giving his hair a salt-and-pepper color amongst the black and gray. Matching such hair, he has a thin beard covering from his sideburns to over his chin and mouth, uncared for and graying in itself, having the same colored effect as his hair.
Underneath the quite normal sized forehead and beneath his angled eyebrows laid his deep set, green eyes with never ending dark, purplish bags and lines underneath them. His cheek bones are prominent in his thin features, being quite sharp underneath his eyes in comparison to his gaunt cheeks. His nose is quite thin and straight itself, coming down in a small slope and simply cutting off sharply. His mouth is thin lipped and without much color, and with such his jawline came and ended up with a long, thin, rounded chin underneath his mouth. His face is lined with wrinkles on his forehead, to the corners of his mouth, albeit covered by his thin beard, but especially so under and to the sides of his eyes.
Starting from his right wrist and coming to the right side of his neck, along with extending out to a small portion of the upper right side of his chest was boldly black lined, crimson filled thorn vines, extending and tangling in all of it's vines up along his arm, neck, and chest, the thorns of such sticking out sharply in where they're prominent. Several parts of the long strands of vines is suddenly cut in the middle, having obtained a wound in such places where scar tissue healed up and over it.
( Visual reference thanks to Feloraea: http://i47.tinypic.com/befnvd.png )
Edited by Agalladorn on 1/24/2013 7:16 PM PST
(I'm also from Argent Dawn~)
Name: Feloraea the Intrepid
Eye Color: White
Age: Approximately 500 years old
Feloraea's hair reaches all the way down to her calves. It's tied in a very small pony-tail near the bottom. A woven flower rests among a few locks of her hair near her right ear.
A somewhat large, brightly-polished locket is looped around Feloraea's neck and attached firmly to her armor such that it does not swing noisily.
Feloraea's caravan is led by her hippogryph. The caravan itself is very small; the door doesn't even look large enough to accommodate her size. Lately, she hasn't been travelling with her caravan around.
Hello from a silly AD Belfadin.
Age: (Equivalent to a human's 32)
Height and weight: Average.
Race: Blood Elf
Physical appearance-type stuff:
Zan is for the most part a pretty boring, plain, average paladin. His most notable feature is his freckles.
He's awkward, quiet and clumsy ginger elf who seems a little bit oblivious to personal interactions and may be frequently observed staring out into space. Zan isn't quite completely all there in the head. He wears a goblin fire detector on his belt that makes an annoying sound if he's standing in fire.
Zandrae is the Blood Elf most likely to do a sudden gravity check and face-tank the floor when coming to a stop on the Red Flying Cloud mount.
On the rare occasion he's seen actually wielding the light, he appears to have strange glowing golden-white designs sprawling across his skin akin to a henna tattoo.
Find out IC! /nods
90 Night Elf Druid
( ARGENT DAWN INVASION RAAAAAAHH)
Mindina Lori'ani Riversong
Eye Color: Silvery-white
The kaldorei before you is quite tall, even for her own kind. She appears to be in her early adult years, though it's nearly impossible to tell her exact age. Her tall figure is slightly - though not very noticeably toned, almost like a runner's would be.
She pulls her long, dark hair back in a low, loose ponytail. Long, messy bangs frame and slightly conceal her face. From behind each ear sprouts a long, thin braid with a few small beads woven through it.
In her bear and nightsaber forms, her fur is the same navy as her hair, while the mane is a snowy white. As a raven, she's a deep navy, the tips of the feathers on her wings the signature white.
If her unique coloration wasn't enough, her purple elven facial tattoos are visible across all of her forms, making her easier to identify no matter what shape she's in.
Small scrapes and scars of various shapes and sizes mark her pale blue skin. The most notable of these is a slice across her right cheek, extending from her cheekbone down to her jawline, just before her chin.
((Please bear in mind this was written and re-written over the course of Wrath, therefore it is a bit dated. Time skips from expansion to expansion aren't taken into account with this profile.))
((Clari's accent is guttural and graceful in its own right. Basically imagine a German or Prussian accent.))
She is slender, twitchy, and almost always has a cigarette clenched in her jaws if they are not obscured by a veil or mask. She is also 'armed to the teeth' so to speak. Like a feline or other typical alleycat, Clarimonde is flexible and sometimes just as skittish. With a set of piercing green eyes, dark raven colored locks, and a severe scowl when displeased - or when amused a cocky smirk - she overall appears hardened despite her tender 19 years.
A chain of numerous dog-tags hang around her neck with a bloodied wooden rosary, the way she constantly prays over them seems to show she is extremely devoted to some faith or some person. Her habits of smoking, drinking heavy alcohol - specifically gin - and swearing however make her far less than a saint. Let alone her hidden tendencies to lean towards minor (or in some cases, major) acts of cannibalism as either a survival or a terror tactic.
Above all of her other habits the most noticeable may be her constant twitching, something that just happens so often it's nearly impossible for her to completely stop. It's in her mouth, her fingers, her neck movements and even in how she darts her glances and glares. Overall, she appears an anxious person despite her calm or irritable attitude. When asked, she does not state much of what it is.
Sometimes, her affiliations are more obvious - a Consortium crafted blade often making an appearance or the mystical wrappings of an Ethereal peeking through under the edges of her armor. They are usually easily seen when she is posted in Outland, and even more so comfortable in the fold of Ethereals in the Stormspire. However, when those items are present - or any other sigil of the Consortium - she often tries her best to be more patient and polite for the sake of business. Tries to at least.
In a brief few sentences Clarimonde's hair is slick and greasy as if rarely washed, her paranoia levels are through the roof, her cigarette and gin habits are typical in their unhealthy ways, and her snippy attitude is obvious to anyone who even so much as glances at her. She also carries a voice with a guttural accent that demands respect and an ever trying to be dominant attitude; she seems just as hardened as any other soldier - male or female.
One can only assume what goes on in that brain of hers, ranging from morbid and depraved bestial instincts or higher thought and compassion.
((Tunes I tend to listen to to write Clari's character:
Art of War - Sabaton,
Mechwarrior 3: Pirate's Moon,
Turanic Battle Music - from the game "Homeworld".))
((IT'S KIRIN TOR TIME.))
Name : Dyrik Severmentle
Age : 26 years old
Height : 5'10''
Weight : 185 pounds
Eye color : Emerald green
Dyrik Severmentle is a solid-looking young man, who's under the average size of a man of his trade. His traits, despite his stature, are neither slugish nor brutish : He appears to be rather soft and fragile-looking, althought his overall musculature counter-balance this idea. A well-definited, balanced sculpture resulting from the harsh training he inflicts upon himself serves him well in many critical situation.
His visage carries the feature of youth, a fine nose, oval-shaped ears, piercing emerald green gaze and a slightly triangular jaw are the notable feature of the young knight, who's most of the time hiding behind an helmet of thick white steel. Soft-looking, middly-sized lips and eyebrows decorate the face of the young man, who's surprisingly bearing no trace of any battle scars, leaving the portrait almost flawless. He wears long, brown hair often tucked into a ponytail, held together with a ordinary white band. His skin is slightly tanned, due to the time passed outdoor in the harsh sunlight.
Althought he prefers to wear civil clothing, usually black or white depending of the day. he sometimes show off with a spectacular set of a white steel plating, decorated with lightforged gold and proudly wearing the Argent colors. to his side, a sharp longsword, inscribed with golden filigrams and an emerald of many facets incrusted in the hilt, the level of craftsmanship indicated the weapon has been smithed by a Dwarven artisan. He considers his blade to be trustworthy, a hand of the hilt always resting as a sign of valiance and vigilance. His long hair, loose while wearing his helmet is mostly hidden behind his cape of fine fabrics. Althought the armor as a whole look purely aesthetic, its solidity and durability proves it wrong, as Dyrik use this one and only set on the battlefield
By his stature and by human standard, Dyrik qualifies to be a handsome-looking man despite his height, and him not as buff-looking than the average knight. But, the man also bear a deep-looking, scary scar on his right shoulder, a token of his unclear past. A scar he prefer to hide away behind shirts with usually long sleeves. When wearing casual clothing, a golden ring can be seen on one of his fingers, on his left hand.
Character soundtrack : Apocalyptica - Hope
Edited by Dyrik on 1/1/2013 5:43 PM PST
Rebel Geoffroy Gerhardt
Weight: 212 lbs. naked
Name is correctly pronounced 'Jeffrey Gearheart'
Visual Aid: http://tinyurl.com/8xkmzt3
Geoff has a rather imposing stature for a Gilnean. Instead of the stockier build, he's lean and muscular and almost a head taller than most of his people. When seen in his casual attire, which consists of Victorian coat and trousers, his raven hair handsomely frames his face. Parted to the right, it sometimes arches upwards before draping on his shoulder. When equipped for battle, a loosely bound ponytail can be seen trailing after him. A unique emerald-amber cast to his eyes give him a lupine countenance that almost betrays his human form. His right eye is obscured by a light leather eyepatch, and from beneath it one can see a hint of discoloration around the covered area.
Down each of his arms are various tribal inks. Some of the designs can be seen across his chest and reaching to his navel and groin. One can only guess that such things also appear on his back.\n\nHis accent is highly Dwarvish (think Scottish), and sometimes he'll spout off in such a manner that it's almost impossible to understand. Most of his mannerisms are proper yet casual, and he's been known to be somewhat of a ladies' man.
Rarely seen unless he wills it so, Geoff can be a frightening sight. Standing alarmingly tall with a pitch black pelt, his canine form is anything but "man's best friend". White canines peek from his elongated snout and the emerald of his eyes peer at anything that grasps his attention. His raven tufts transform with him, giving him the intelligent look that separates him from the creatures responsible for his Curse.",
((If you'd like to pretend you know him outright, you can do this if your character is a Rebel or part of the Gilneas Liberation Front!))
Upon initial inspection, this figure appears to be of normal height, roughly six foot. His posture appears to be well-executed and practically perfect, whether sitting or standing.
Close introspection does not reveal much behind the hood and guise he normally adorns; expressionless and devoid of many aspects. Not an inch of his body appears to be visible
in such a state, covered from head to toe in melanoid, atramentous leather that seems to be rather tight upon his figure. The armor he wears seems to be completely charcoal
black, save for various shades and chromas of grey and lavender here and there.
The most noticeable feature would likely be the two amethyst gems that seem carved into his ghastly and achromatic face-mask; at a close proximity, they seem to reveal a shred of luminescence, albeit faint. Although, under the canopy of the black silk from his hood that drapes over his forehead, the dark ambiance usually provided only amplifies the aspect more-so. The two lilac sockets appear to swirl with life and vivacity, animated in their own respect that breaks the unmoving, stoic appearance of his guise.
Accompanied with such, the nebulous existence wears a completely black, silken hood that transcends from the nape of his neck, up and over his head, and comes to an end
at a widow’s peak at his forehead. The protection of the canopy drapes over his face with relative ease when the man’s head is declined, facing the ground at times to avoid confrontation and eye-contact every now and again in various situations, should the need arise.
Atop the tenebrous existence's shoulders perch two leather pauldrons, shreds of faint violet to break the sleek aphoticness they naturally have. From what it would appear, a faint black mist appears to roll off the back of the pauldrons in a glossy motion, however dissipating shortly thereafter creation. From what one could assume, it is an aspect of the figure that likely serves no purpose, beyond aesthetics. The caliginous fog rises towards the Death's Head, and evaporates with ease, the cycle repeating; it is likely enchantment if anything.
Per usual, the adumbral personage conveys to keep to himself, although appearing collected, cool, and reserved for the most part. Paired with his correct posture, it amplifies into an overall gentle-person like demeanor. Although reserved by initial impression, he may be seen speaking with a variety of people, or at least those whom approach him.
As of recent, the hooded and capistrate entity may be seen carrying around a small, outlandish avian within his grasp. Typically, the small, chromatic songbird is cradled within a luxurious silken fabric, the color varying on any given day, only adding and amplifying the various colorful patterns the small bird adorns. Although beautiful and cunning in its own right, the small fowl seems to have a small splint at its side, likely holding its wing in place due to a recent injury. Nonetheless, the bird does not appear hesitant to poke its head out to view any given surrounding, and possibly a whistle or two, breaking the silentious bearing the masked figure keeps about himself. In the cradle the rogue gives, it appears protective, caring, and very gentle of the creature, mutual in the respect and attention the songbird offers in return.
Not often, the man may be seen with his hood pooled at his nape, and his face-mask removed. However infrequent to see such a sight, the individual has short black hair; it is layered and flattened, likely due to extensive usage of his normal head-wear. His skin tone appears pale, although not ghastly and sickly pale, appearing to receive a fair amount of sunlight every now and again; it is not tan by any means whatsoever. Behind two amethyst, lilac apertures behold two authentic and apricot/bittersweet eyes, appearing calmed and relaxed. For wearing a guise and a hood often, he evidently takes care in hygiene and personal appearance, his facial hair remaining trimmed, and his face washed and clean. It is absolutely devoid of any scarring or the sort, likely not seeing 'direct' combat often at all. He is not beautiful, no, not majestic and elegant, but rather simply plain and average, nothing more nor less.
When comfortable, the same man may appear to be something different, in adverse to his normal appearance. At roughly seven and a half feet in height, his stature is by all means not muscular and bulky like normal worgen, but rather simply toned like his opposite form. In such an anatomy, Lucivus typically wears a small patch around his eye that orbits his head. The position of it seems to follow a pattern: left eye throughout daytime, and right eye throughout dusk. Carrying over, his face appears completely null of scars and what not, although the small amount of fur that covers his visage would likely cover such in any case.
Edited by Lucivus on 1/24/2013 2:40 PM PST
((Please forgive any errors. This profile, like all of mine, tends to be a work in progress at nearly any given point of time.))
This woman is not just slim or slender, she is downright petite in terms of human anatomy. Despite being about the proper height, her arms, legs, neck, and face are all very sallow and delicate. This woman looks like she could break if the wind blew her about too roughly. Her complexion is pallid, if not sickly, but it appears she spends her time in the sun now and then. Even her eyes, an almost strange hue of emerald, look ill. One could make the guess that it is due to all the reading she does, for a book is always on her lap cracked open and taking up her attention.
Despite being pixie-esque, she appears capable of taking care of herself. Her thin shoulders normally carry a satchel full of books and other assorted materials - the contents of this seemingly never ending sack only fully understood by her. The leather is old, battered, weathered, and very loved. A set of initials seem to be stitched under the strap that hangs over her shoulder, the initials of someone's name that is not hers presumably.
Francesca's only other notable features are her red hair, combed and clean from the looks of it, and her golden hooped earrings. They seem to be almost like pirate earrings as they jingle quietly from her upper ears. It's almost a pity she is plagued by a constant cough that she blames upon childhood illnesses and a naturally sickly nature.
Although only seen sometimes by her side when wandering or during travels, Francesca has several demons she calls upon for her bidding - or her amusement.
Quznam - The eternally chatty imp she constantly threatens to have his tongue ripped out.
Juk'Nagma - The void walker who says little but tends to keep her shielded from too much injury.
Disxia - The temptress whom is ever so willing to choke anyone too close to her Warlock.
Bheezhem - The strangely puppy-minded Fel Hound that becomes a mana thirsty stalker on Francesca's command.
Lawrence - The Fel/Dread Steed, Frenchie's most beloved friend and companion. His name is strange for a demon, but Fran 'loves' him all the same. He is often ornery and like Disxia does not like anyone too close to his rider.
((Current themes that I write her to:
Stravinsky's "Firebird Suite",
Brandi Carlile's "The Story",
"Falcon in the Dive" from 'The Scarlet Pimpernel'.))
Name: Huntress "Sh'maula" Nightrunner.
Race: Night Elf based Worgen.
Physical description: Much like a night elf, she is lithe and athletic, with a toned and muscled body.
She carries herself as a guard would-even when not on duty. Relaxation isn't a common thing for her.
One of the worgen who defected from Arugal, only to be enslaved by the Lich King shorty thereafter. She holds her hertiage with pride, and does not make any effor to conceal her bestial nature-despite her once Elven origins as one of the original Elven Druids who tapped into the forbidden art.
Mahali's MRP is as followed, mind you I did hers in a bit of a different style from my other characters, something similar to a journal.
Name: Mahali Swifthoof
To look upon me now is to see a shade once of my former glory. As with others of the Tauren race, I am quite tall. Just below eight foot in height, my body shows even now the hints of my former life. Constant travel, stretching for miles and miles through the wilderness has left my form covered in what seems lean muscle. My horns are small, as with other females of the Tauren, turned upward ever so slightly. My ears are adorned with small rings, three upon each. Let us say it was the rebellious nature of a young Tauren that led to their piercing.
My fur is the same color of the deep earth, the soil which gives us life and takes us in our death. Reddish brown and soft, it covers my body entirely. Streaks of white tear across my muzzle. My hair I prefer to keep long, black in color, though I do braid it to keep it from my face while traveling.
My eyes were once a bright, always curious green. But, alas, my current state leaves them an odd, eerie blue. Glowing ever so slightly and with a chill that rivals the very snows of Winterspring.
Such a chill often lingers upon my hooves as well, crusting their edges with the hint of frost.
Before death took me, I was a Longwalker, a Holy Strider. I served with unwavering loyalty to Cairne Bloodhoof. Our movements were unknown, our missions a secret. We moved swiftly and unseen across the lands of Azeroth and beyond, carrying out the will of our Chieftain.
Yet, upon one such a trip, I was beset upon by Alliance forces. Over whelmed by their numbers, my body was left where it fell. To return to the Earth which I came.
That is, until He came.
Bringing me back as this abomination to the Earthmother. Yet, now I am free from his grasp. Thanks to those who sacrificed their lives at Light's Hope Chapel, who showed me and my...brethren the error of our ways.
I now once again roam these parts, serving the mighty Bloodhoof Chieftain in this hour of darkness, as I once did for his father so long ago.
And for giggles here is Paamuk's MRP from MG!
Name: Paamuk Wildhorn
Title: Druid of the Claw/Wilderness Stalker
Age: Middle Aged
Paamuk is a rather tall female Tauren, her form somewhat slim due to her lifestyle. Soft fur the color of the desert sands of Tanaris covers the Druid, bright green eyes shine from her bovine face. A mark of rebellious younger years, one will find three small silver rings adorning each of Paamuk's ears.
Paamuk to most appears very reserved and serene. She is very attuned to her feral nature, often at times becoming distant. Paamuk has an extremely peaceful nature, it takes much to anger the Druid. However, when she has been called to action she possesses a ferocity few may match.
Paamuk Wildhorn hails from the Earthrunners, a small tribe that wanders the Barrens, following the Kodo and other various game that call these lands home. The eldest out of three, Paamuk was indeed her Mother's child. At a young age this was clear, her attraction towards the animals and wilderness she stumbled upon gave it away.
A diligent student, she learned quickly and became a key asset for her tribe against the Centaur that plagued them. While her Sister and Brother joined their Father as Warrior's on the front line, Paamuk found her home in the shadows, tracking both the tribe's food and enemies. A Wilderness Stalker she became, and a fierce one at that. As well, some often whisper that she has served as a Holy Strider to the late Bloodhoof Chieftain, though these rumors are unconfirmed.
However, it was not until the death of her Mother that Paamuk truly came into her own. Slain in battle while aiding the Frostwolf Clan against the dreaded Stormpike Guard, her Mother died with honor, fighting alongside the new allies of the Tauren people, the Orcs. Once more following the path of her Mother, Paamuk felt compelled to aide this new Horde under the leadership of the Shaman Thrall in memory.
With the change in leadership, she follows he who wears the mantle of Warchief, Garrosh Hellscream. Though saddened by the loss of Cairne Bloodhoof, Paamuk feels conflicted. However, it is still her duty to continue serving, not just for herself but for the honor of her people.
Edited by Paamuk on 1/13/2013 9:17 AM PST
Another from MG!
Name: Shetai Splithorn
Title: Overseer of the Lomani, Gatewatcher
Rather tall is the young Warrior, a bit more than your average female Tauren. However she is slender, lithe some might say much like the dancer. Her constant travels having left her body covered in lean muscle. Fur the color of the deep earth, the soil which gives life and takes one in death. Reddish brown and soft, it covers her body entirely. Markings of white may be found upon her form, tribal patterns dyed upon her upper arms, face and back.
Long hair of black hangs down her back, often with two braids pulled back, thin whisps framing her face. Eyes of the brightest amber shine forth, reflecting the quiet and thoughtful nature of the soul behind them. Three rings adorn each ear, etched with the markings of her tribe. Her horns are small, turned upward ever so slightly, as if reaching out to the sky itself.
Shetai is quite confident, in the prime of her life. This is all to clear in the way she carries herself, the sly smile that twitches upon her lips. Her voice is low in tone, somewhat husky. Yet somehow it never fails to grab one's attention.
Born in Southern Mulgore to a rather small tribe, Shetai is the youngest of three. She followed in the steps of her Ancestors, there is no question of that. Her Father's, her Grandfather and his Father. While her late Mother and her kin followed the path of the Druid. However, as it is with many of the young, she often dreams of greater things. Perhaps as a personal guard to the Chieften himself or even upon Council or training the young calves in her village.
Either way, the loyalty and devotion of Shetai never wavers. Once she has deemed the cause just and honorable, her life she would sacrifice. A trait her eldest sister, Paamuk has stressed to the young Shetai.
For now though she serves upon the guard at the Gate of Mulgore, patrolling the Barrens to make sure all is well.
Name: Elayssi Nightshade
Alias: Ellie Swiftstrike
Title: Leatherworker/Crafter (Public), Operative (Private)
A bit on the tall side for a female, with the lithe body of a dancer. Other than this there is very little that would stand out about this particular Night Elf. Her long, blue hair is often pulled back, tied together with a simple strip of leather. A few strands do seem to stray, pushed back by her long, delicate fingers in a seemingly odd tick. Her smooth skin is dusted by a soft purple hue, as with others of her kind. Her eyes glow a soft silver, the hint of moonlight touched by a soft mist, shifting often in a quiet, observent manner.
As with other female Night Elves, this one has two rather simple markings upon her face. Each resembles the claw mark of some wild beast, both as well a much deeper shade of purple. They run from her forehead to her small, somewhat thin lips.
A quiet, yet seemingly friendly Elf she makes her home amongst the Humans of Stormwind. She spends most of her time learning the art and trade of Leatherworking. She takes great care with the items she creates, often found humming to herself as she works.
As well, she suplies herself with her own skins. Her skill with the blade is quite astonishing. As is the matter in which she stalks and slays her prey...
Ireali, your picture is inappropriate. I saw your other post, and I think I can speak for the others when I say that your attention grabbing photo isn't welcome here. If you'd like to post pictures of your genitals, this is not the right outlet for such things. Your post has been reported for inappropriate content.
The fur that may be seen as exposed areas of his body is a shade of brown, pierced by two orangish red eyes, or rather one usually due to the patch he wears. His pair of apertures appear devoid of a pupil exactly, but seem to have a faint white iris, although the color inside appears to collide and move about with life and animation. Protruding from his jaw are simple, slender canine teeth that are seen at all times in such a form; they are sharp, however not obsessively sharp nor dull in any manner. From the back of his head extends a 'mane' of sorts, ending at his upper vertebrae in a slick panache; the color of it appears to be a similar shade of his fur, although a tad darker. The dusky figure's appendages hold host to small, yet slender and elongated ebony claws, similar to the nails that protrude from his feet. They are not long by any means, but still provide ample use should the need arise; his hands may still curl into a natural fist, the claws unobstructing whatsoever.
In such a state of being, his normally perfect posture now wanes slightly and seems to have a deformity, although very slight in appearance: a hunch forward, although to a minuscule margin. Nevertheless, it does not wane in the larger height he appears to take on. The Gilnean individual's voice sounds to be a few octaves lower than normal pitch, and hoarse to a bated extent if anything. In digression, his words roll smoothly from his tongue like glass, unaffected and indifferent from his human-like anatomy.
(( It is kindly asked that you do -not- take upon automatic assumption that this individual is of worgen nature. It is practically impossible to tell, although like anything, there are no absolutes and some areas to poke at. But just for the sake of courtesy, I do ask that you shoot me a whisper beforehand to explain before actually making an IC conclusion and acting upon it; I do hope you understand. ))
(( As for forum readers, I apologize for the double post that is not consecutive; the initial was a predated description, which has been redone, as I earlier noted. Again, apologies if it provided difficulty to read because of such an issue! ))
Edited by Lucivus on 1/24/2013 2:43 PM PST
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