Celiena Duskraven ((hot pix inside))

Royal Guard Posts : 51 Join date : 2009-11-14

Basic Information

Character Name: Celiena Duskraven
Character Age: 149
Character Race: Blood Elf
Sex: Female
Family: None living.
Role in the House: Royal Guard

Hair Colour: Jet black
Eye Colour: Green
Skin Colour: Fair, pale skin

Weapons used
Celiena is proficient with all martial and simple weapons. She usually carries a longsword and a shield into battle.

Armour/garments used, in and out of battle
Celiena can often be seen in very revealing robes and dresses during social situations and everyday life. What is normal in Quel'thalas can provoke bitter looks and threatening glances in Forsaken society, and even though she is aware of her provocations, she considers it an assertion of her living self. In battle, she wears a set of blood-red plate armor.

Magics/spells used
Celiena has an ambivalent relationship with the Holy Light. She was part of one of the first groups to be ordained into the Blood Knight Order, who, emboldened by the scale of the achievement, took great, sadistic pleasure in bending the light to their own will and proclaiming themselves its masters. Even after the Sunwell restoration, Celiena continues to force the dwindling spark of light within her to do her bidding with a growing resentment and bitterness.
Due to this, and to the taboo nature of the Holy Light within Forsaken society, Celiena mostly relies on her innate ability with arcane magic as well as her prowess in close combat.

Professions studied and to what ability
Celiena is skilled at prospecting for minerals and crafting armour and weapons, but seldom practices either.

Personality

Alignement: Lawful Evil
(see http://www.wowwiki.com/Alignment)

Likes: Power over others, overt aesthetic beauty. Order. Sylvanas Windrunner.
Dislikes: Incompetence, Prudishness, Paladins and Blood Knights, lesser races, the current Sin'dorei leadership, despises Lady Liadrin.
Persuasion techniques: Threats, insightful arguments, bribery, and if called for, seduction and blackmail.
Seeks to become: Closer to Sylvanas, as her respected and powerful champion.
Looks up to: Sylvanas Windrunner. Kael'thas Sunstrider.
Envies: Those who outrank her within the House. Anyone close to Sylvanas.
Most used method of slaying a captured foe: Quick decapitation.
Most proud of: Her unscarred body, which she considers a testament to her fighting skills. Her life.
Most ashamed of: What the Blood Knight organisation has become.
Most afraid of: Death/Undeath.

History

Born in: Silvermoon
Pre-House info:
Hieronath "Duskraven", a blacksmith by trade and skill who travelled with a company of Farstriders, was left with the care of a two year old Celiena due to an oath he had made to a young couple of Farstriders before they died. As a result Celiena spent her entire childhood among a company of soldiers, moving from place to place as they patrolled the lands of Eversong Forest. For decades she watched the sparks as her guardian worked the forge, as well as thousands of battles and manoeuvres as the Farstriders practised daily and had frequent skirmishes. By the time she was old enough to start training with them, she already possessed a strategic and tactical understanding that allowed her to best some of the seasoned veterans in the company. She has been fighting in some capacity ever since she reached adulthood 39 years ago. In town militias, mercenary groups, as a Spellbreaker during the Third War, her skill and cunning were finally recognised when she was selected to become a Blood Knight during the first days of the Order.

Biography:
Part 1 - Arrival in Undercity

The moonless night in Silverpine masked the movement of two figures as they made their way to a clearing in the woods. The figures roughly upturned the contents of the backpack to see what loot they had scored.

"Bah, not much 'ere but this journal and some golds mate." Said the wiry brigand to his bigger built companion. "We didn't 'ave much time a'ight, whoever set up that camp was was gonna be back any second".

"I told ye we should 'ave waited and had us a spot 'o killin', but give it 'ere. May-haps there's some valuable information inside." The thief drove his large claymore into the ground and sat down, leaning his back against its flat surface. He opened the journal and began to read, skimming through the entries:

3rd day of the eleventh month

I arrived in the Undercity today, accompanied by the delegation from Silvermoon. Ambassador Sunsorrow formally introduced me and the other Blood Knights, Cyssa Dawnrose and Lyrlia Blackshield to The Dark Lady Sylvanas Windrunner. She is still beautiful in her undeath, and an impressive presence to say the least, even more so that when she was alive...

16th day of the eleventh month

I've grown accustomed to my duties in the Undercity, and to life underground, although the stench of that water I just can't stomach. I've heard a few rumours about a group of forsaken that are supposedly very close to the Banshee Queen. No doubt I'll learn more in the coming months. For the foreseeable future, this will be my home...

26th day of the eleventh month

The sight and presence of Sylvanas continues to fascinate me. Is this the power she gained with undeath? Never have I been so obsessed by another being, let alone an undead one...

6th day of the twelfth month

I met a fellow Sin'dorei who goes by the name of Octavian. We talked at some length about the House of Sylvanas, a cult he belongs to which operate directly under the Dark Lady. He seemed keen to draft me into their service and I've agreed to meet their leader in a fortnight. I'm not sure how Ambassador Sunsorrow will react to the prospect of me leaving his contingent. But to serve Sylvanas directly seems too good a chance to pass up...

21st day of the twelfth month

I am now a Neophyte member of the House of Sylvanas. Sunsorrow didn't mutter any complaints, whoever spoke to him on my behalf must have been above his own authority, so my service to him and to Quel'thalas has effectively ended. Can't say I'm in the least bit disappointed by this turn of events. But I do wonder what I've got myself into...

23rd day of the twelfth month

My first direct order came during a prisoner interrogation in the bowels of the Undercity. The Dark Lord of the House, Archnazg Magnark barked the order at me, "Neophyte Duskraven, execute the prisoner at once, he is no longer of any use to us." The ravaged and dying Human wasn't saying the things his captors wanted to hear, or perhaps he really didn't know anything, whatever the case, after some time torturing him they lost their patience. His own fault I say... I did my duty without flinching, but in my surprise at suddenly being called upon, I failed to execute a clean cut of his head and my face and hair ended up soiled with splattered blood and gore...

"Did you hear that?" asked the slight brigand as he readied his dagger."It sounded like footsteps coming from the direction of the camp we just nicked."

"It's yer mind playing tricks I tell ye. I didn't hear nothin'. Now let me keep reading, it's getting good this is..." The thief returned to the journal, a bucked-tooth smile on his unsightly face, while his companion kept a watchful eye on the surroundings.

7th day of the seventh month

I have grown somewhat paranoid during my service to the House, their hatred towards the living makes me wonder how long they'll keep me around in this form. Can't say I look forward to the prospect of undeath, but they seem content enough with my loyalty and discipline so far. As long as I don't mess up I should be fine...

26th day of the seventh month

Today I killed... perhaps twenty men? I can't remember exactly... This is the first time in decades that I've lost myself in battle like this. My sword felt unstoppable as I cleaved and slashed, as if anything in its path would be cut. But when I came back to my senses a very different scene from my past blood-lusts was unfolding before me. Forsaken members of the House were feasting on the Human corpses, others yet where desecrating them with dark rituals I don't understand. While ghouls and other creatures of undeath began to rise from the broken bodies before disappearing into the screams of the Duskwood night. Strangely enough, the sight of these nightmares made me feel... nothing....

"Oi, Someone's coming!" whispered the brigand to his companion.

The startled thief quickly put the journal on the ground, rose to his feet and drew his claymore from the soil.

A lantern light could be seen approaching the clearing, as it drew closer the silhouette of a Sin'dorei woman carrying it could be made out. The rogues quickly moved to cut off her path.

"Oi. Whatsa pretty Elfin wench like you doing in the woods alone? Did your boyfriend use you and lose you?" asked the thief as he casually rested the large claymore over his shoulder, his arm muscles bulging. The Sin'dorei woman had jaw-length raven hair and wore a black dress, a drawn hooded cloak hung from her back. She was unarmed. The brigand ogled her up and down while licking the edge of his dagger. "Looks like we got us a bonus mate!, It's been too long since I last had me an Elfin."

The Elf's eyes glowed bright green under the lamp light, and she spoke calmly and without a hint of fear in her smoky voice. "I believe that backpack is mine. If you give it back I promise I'll be kind and make it up to you."

"I bet ye will" said the wiry brigand menacingly as he smiled lecherously at her breasts, "But I wanna know if yer thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?"

The Sin'dorei woman drew closer, approaching the men, her stance changed subtly when she noticed the journal lying on the ground behind them.

The light from the lantern caught the dagger's edge, making it gleam and glisten as the Elf effortlessly twisted the brigand's arm with her free hand, guiding his own blade deep into his belly and cutting down to his navel. He fell to the ground screaming in pain, clutching at the wound in an effort to contain the sprouting blood and guts.

The larger thief was too slow to react in time, fragments from the passages he'd just read filled his mind. images of torture, dark rituals and death. A trickle of sweat began to form at his temple when he saw his companion fall, and before he knew what had happened, the metallic taste of blood filled his mouth, his nostrils and his vision. The Elf had taken advantage of the way he rested his oversized claymore over his shoulder, an applied just enough force to push the weapon into his own neck, cutting deep.

As the pool of blood expanded around the pair of agonising and dying figures, the Sin'dorei woman picked up her bloodstained journal and put it inside the stolen backpack, hoisting it over her shoulder.

"I was going to be kind and make it up to you with a quick death" said Celiena before leaving them to die in that forest clearing. " But I suppose we were thinking the same thing after all."