Name: Keokith (formally Elizabeth Windsteed) Age: 19 Race: Forsaken Gender: Female Class: Warlock - Demonology Languages: Gutterspeak Faction: Horde Personality: A once kind and gentle spirited young woman, now dark and full of hatred towards the human races the more she discovers her role in the Forsaken Legion. Appearance: Young petite teenage woman with short black hair. Once discovered her new identity she tried placing leather wraps around her face to hide it.
Before the third war of Lordearon, my family never engaged grief that took the land. We lived peacefully in our farm house close to Hillsbrad Fields, selling our crops to the villagers in Southshore. My youngest sibling tried dearly to join forces with the fight against the Scourge like our father. Ever since he was a child, he would try fighting murlocs that loitered on the coast- he was itching for battle. A lot of this stemmed down from our mother being kidnapped from us at a younger age, ever since then he felt the need to protect the family. My father after that night turned to the Holy Light for answers, to prevent losing his loved ones from death. After many years of studying he became an apprentice for the Argent Dawn, working directly under Duke Nicholas Zverenhoff in the Plaguelands.
This left me to tend to the farm and raising my younger brother to maturity. Late nights alone in our house, I would stay up and wonder what amazing adventures my father is enduring; Fighting alongside famous heroes that you only heard about in stories. What it would be like to live such a life, to protect the innocent and to slay dragons, to have townsmen screaming your name in praise for your service in the field. But I knew father would not accept any of his children to join forces beside him.
I stumbled across his old scriptures of the Holy Light, just simple methods to render healing spells. I would spend nights and days rehearsing hymns but never fully casting any magic, until one night. I snuck out of the house to the barn where we kept our hens. I slowly lodge my father's dagger into the side while holding down her beak to prevent the bird displaying the pain she is enduring, also not trying to awake my younger brother for him knowing the acts I'm committing. I placed the lifeless body of the bird softly on the wild grass that grew alongside the barn. At first I couldn't concentrate due to accepting me killing an innocent soul for my curiosity, I would kill to feed off the body but never to experiment. I slowly took steps back, while reaching for the scripture that was left behind. Moonlight casting through the trees giving me enough light to recite the words written on the pages. As I read the words aloud I felt nothing happening, in the scripture it explained feeling power beyond explanation moving through your limbs. All I felt was the breeze from the coastal air moving towards the valley of the Alterac mountains. I dropped in disbelief and disappointment, feelings of failure to my father and knowing I could do better if I had proper instruction. I gathered myself and stood again for another attempt. I didn't focus on the death of the bird, just death in general- I really thought of my mother, how I could've saved her if my father gave me proper instruction. I took stance and forced air into my lungs as if it was my last breath. I sung the hymns so loud I trembled the mountain range, all of Hillsbrad heard me. I suddenly felt this stunning sensation on my feet, I didn't want to look or focus on it to lose my concentration. Then seconds later a light emerged from the hen's body so bright my eyes felt the heat radiating from body, I turned my head and dropped to the ground. Felt energy less and my limbs ached in pain. Laying on the ground I stared up to the sky, sort of in confusion of what happened until I heard footsteps walking next to me, I lifted my head only to see the hen titling her head in concern of what I'm doing on the ground for and possibly hoping to get fed. I jumped up, squeezing the hen in happiness that she is okay and is back to health. But overlooking the truth of me conjuring magic without proper instruction.
The days and months went on of me casting minor spells among critters and self inflected wounds on myself, I felt the need for more. I craved more knowledge of this Holy Light. I traveled to Southshore one evening to the chapel to borrow more scrolls of scripture of new spells and stories. The town has been empty since they called for reinforcements to the recent attacks against Lordaeron. I entered the empty building and made my way into the library below the chapel in hopes to come across something new. This dim light room contained mountains of shelves with literature from the greatest storytellers in all of Azeroth, but one book left on the table that read, "Demonology" took my attention. As I slowly opened the book the fire of the candle wicks flickered as if a slight draft entered the room. Before I could read the book I heard footsteps above me coming from multiple men that just entered the main floor of the chapel, I had nowhere to run but I stayed in place to over hear their conversations. One man muttered, "We do not have the numbers and Athras simply takes our fallen men to his aid. I believe this battle over and we go back to Light's Hope until we hear from Lord Tyrosus." A man with a familiar voice speaks, "I will not abandon my home here for the Scourge. I will take my son and two other men to Silverpine to scout their forces from the west. Gather a group of men and escort the women and children to Stromgarde to Prince Trollbane, their defenses will protect them- For now... We will then meet back here and protect our land, go now with haste!"
I couldn't help but wonder if the man I overheard was my father giving orders, either way I need to get back home fast to warn my brother of what I heard. As I stepped foot outside I could see a light glimmering over the mountain range and the faint screams of fallen men, the smell of burning wood and stone of Lordaeron swept grounds the once peaceful valley. I ran my fast to warn my brother so we could escape before they reached our home. But I was too late, as I approached the barn I saw the body of my brother laying on the ground with multiple arrow wounds to his chest. Without thought I recited the same hymns I casted on the hen that quiet night. "Stop!" Screaming that same familiar voice I heard in the chapel. I suddenly felt the same energy and light as I dropped to the ground but this time feeling a different feeling, I couldn't get back up. Hearing screams of pain and swords hitting one another as I lay on the ground trying watching blurry figures fight one another. I look towards my chest only to see the end of two arrows sticking directly from my chest. I start to slowly fade away only seeing my father getting pulled back from his men to form a retreat from the Scourge, leaving me dying on the moist grass.
It almost felt as if I was sleeping for a brief moment and my brother throwing a pale of water onto me to wake me up to continue the chores of the farm. I was awoken differently though, this time I a beautiful lady stood above me and said, "Young lady you'll now fight for me. I am the Dark Lady, get up we have much to explain." As I was following her and a group of what it seemed to be dead men and women I kept looking for my father or brother in hopes to reunite with them. The wounds in my chest were still there but it didn't hurt, almost as if I would lodge my whole fist within my chest feeling nothing. Something is wrong, these men and women are dead- or were dead at some point, including me.
We took camp in the woods near Ambermill, the surrounding areas filled with the moans and groans of our encampment. When no one was looking I staggered off into the woods in attempt to find my father back home. Two days of traveling back home and I started noticing a strong odor and my skin pigment starting to change and the wound still not healing.
I finally stepped foot upon a burning structure I once called home. "Elizabeth!" yelled my father as he ran around the corner to hug me, but as I turned he saw my face and what I have become. He stopped in his tracks, grabbed his mace and shield screaming, "Get off my land! You are not my daughter! You're Forsaken!" I tried to walk to him with arms open he proceeded to yell and force me away. I no longer belong here. I ran over grabbed my books and scriptures, then I noticed my new book was still outside where I died. "Demonology, maybe this will have answers for me..."
(( I'm very new to role playing and researched the Warcraft Lore a lot to compile this story. I recently took a large interest in creative writing and hope to make this somewhat of a series, like she's writing a journal entry type of dynamic. I would love any comments, opinions, criticism, or help as I learn I also wrote most of this while being half way awake and on my phone, so there might be a lot of grammar and punctuation errors, just a heads up lol. thanks for reading! ))
I enjoyed the writing, however there are a few things that you should take a look at.
Ressurection, from a Lore point of view, is nigh impossible. It requires massive knowledge of the magic you try to work, expensive material components and tremendous concentration. It is practically impossible that a layman would be able to do it.
Another thing that stumped me as a reader, would be a book openly named "Demonology" somewhere in a Library. Before the third war, Humans and most other races did not tolerate warlocks. The book would have been hidden away at least. Following this argumentation, if someone found the book lying around, they would have burned it or at least given it to a paladin or priest for savekeeping.
Also, We have a rule for RP characters to have no direct relationships with Lore Characters (such as Sylvanas Windrunner) while I think it is mostly for continuities sake on the Forums (as not all characters could have done the ingame questlines where you talk/interact with the Lore characters) it is still often shunned by readers.
These are the things that puzzled me. I might even have workarounds for some of them, but I don't want to interfere in your story. If you want to hear the suggestions, you may ask anytime however.