((Still a WIP))
"Death is my art, my music, the divine melody."
: Mistress Lyraen "Starshards" Bladerunner
Around her 80ies, in elven age. Just a little over adulthood.
: Blood elf
: Thalassian, Gutterspeak, little bit of Orcish.
: Lyraen, or Lyra, is a perfectionist, narcissistic, and obsessive-compulsive. Her vision of life over all consists of beauty, which is what pushed her to being a rogue in some manner. Her work is silent, her art is through mutilating. Her obsession with "pretty" is what makes her unbalanced and psychotic.
: Paintings based on beauty(Portraits, landscapes, etc), music, dancing and though she will not admit, fashion and garments. Soft fabric. Grace. Loathes anything that isn't beautiful. She has an odd sense of beauty, however, and it's hard to guess what she considers as appealing or revolting, making her unpredictable and chaotic in nature.
: Slim and somewhat petite. Sleek and dainty. Raven black hair, cut into a short bob. classic emerald green eyes, only one eye, her right eye, is covered with a black eyepatch. She has several golden earrings on her long ears, and a few black ink tattoos around various spots in her body, that of a pheonix, a dragonhawk, The Silvermoon crest and a dragonfly.
: Lyra is a smallish female, which makes her extremely nimble and agile, flexible and swift on her feet. Though she excels in speed and stamina, she lacks in strength. She has to finish off swiftly, ambush, or sweet talk someone into submission.
Lyraen was born and raised by a middle class family, spoiled as a child. Her mother, Odelle, thoroughly taught her to be a graceful lady, planting the first seeds of her obsession with beauty. One day, when she was around her adulthood, a group of renegade horde busted inside her home, slaughtered her parents in cold blood, and taken her to their own hideout, where she was constantly tortured. She was eventually rescued, and her wounds healed over time, but her mind became unstable. She took up the art of the assassin, making her way through the ranks swiftly. But it wasn't satisfying. Nothing was satisfying. She needed more.. she needed blood.
"Lets put a pretty smile on your face."
The young sin'dorei traveled far and traveled long, mastering her skills in assassination, and picking up an odd passion to inflict pain upon someone -anyone- that she deemed as "ugly." Her obsession reached it's peek as she grew a mentality. A reasoning of sorts, that made her think she could cure what she saw as ugly, and make them pretty once more. Spying and scouting through places such as the Monastry of the Scarlet Crusade, Stratholme after the scourge invasion, and even Karazhan(especially the crypts) during her missions and tasks, she began collecting bits and pieces of torture devices, and began crafting her own little dungeon within her own home, within Silvermoon. In the heart of the graceful Sin'Dorei, she developed her newly found art.
"Death is just the curtain's fall.. Torture is the act."