[Bio] Noxvari Shadowstalker

[Synaxis]

Noxvari Shadowstalker

Birth Name: Lisele Dawnrunner

Gender: Female

Race: Blood Elf

Age: 198; died at age 195

Status: Undead

Height: 6'6"

Weight: 185lbs. Significantly more when armored.

Skintone: Smooth, opaque white, like porcelain - not see-through or sickly looking.

Eyes: Eerie glowing white.

Scars: None.

Social Stats

Mother: Valia Dawnrunner (deceased)
maiden name 'Lightblade'

Father: Thad'melis Dawnrunner (deceased)

Siblings:
--Mallevia Sunseeker, maiden name Dawnrunner, sister, age 237. Deceased.
--Sironath Dawnrunner, brother, age 214. Currently residing in Silvermoon City.

Other Relatives:
--Xatania Sunseeker, niece, age 4. Currently residing in Stormwind City.
--Loren Sunseeker, brother-in-law, age 243. Currently residing in Stormwind City.
--Arioth Firebough, cousin, age 12. Currently residing in Silvermoon City.
--Varith Firebough, cousin, age 208. Currently residing in Silvermoon City.
--Lorethil Dawnrunner, grandfather, age 546. Currently residing in Fairbreeze Village.

Significant Other: None.

Children: None.

Languages: Thalassian, Gutterspeech, Common, Darnassian. Knows some useful phrases in a handful of other languages, too.

Alignment: Lawful Evil

Loyalties: Lady Sylvanas Windrunner, the Forsaken

Long Stuff

Physical Description: By nature she is a bit tall for either gender of her race. At a commanding six and a half feet with the muscle tone to comfortably compete in any fight, Noxvari is certainly no stranger to conflict and is definitely never a damsel in distress. Most frequently she is found in ornate black battle plate, all intricately designed with skulls and bones and spikes and typically very morbid designs, though there is something elegant about her war attire - something somehow beautiful, albeit in a dangerous kind of way.

Her weapons are many and varied; her most common choice is a grand ol' axe, the likes of which could decapitate anyone dumb enough to put their neck in front of the blade. She is also, however, fond of dual-wielding swords as she always was in her days as a sneaking, thieving, backstabbing rogue. Contrary to what might be accepted as truth, reincarnation as a death knight did not make Nox forget how to hold, aim, and fire a bow, and so more often than not can she be found with said weapon and a quiver strapped to her back. It is an odd look, but it is her own.

Her bearing is cold, even domineering, and her presence is such that commands respect. Every move she makes is done with almost military precision, deliberate and controlled, and yet somehow graceful and fluid - even in the most heated throes of battle. There is something noble about the way she conducts herself, something high-class and elegant even in the way she kills, even when she does so methodically, automatically, simply because she was ordered to.

But beneath the armor, she is surely a woman. She is lithe and sleek, and though toned, she is not nearly masculine. Her curves are not exaggerated but are enough to catch a man off-guard and tempt his eyes, and she does nothing to prevent this. Her pallid skin is smooth and free of scars and birthmarks and blemishes, all having been wiped clean from her skin at the time of her murder and subsequent reanimation.

Though her features are beautiful, with smoothly angled lines and gently rounded curves making up the majority of her form, she is still a morbid picture of elegance.. The bluish tint to her otherwise white skin, white eyes, and black hair strongly hint at her condition, standing to make her such an awful tease to the living guy who didn’t know any better.

Personality: Noxvari is a cold, hard bitch. She has the bearing of a person who has experienced everything there is to experience in life, and she comes off bitter about it. Nox is not nice or sweet or loving. She is generally pretty solitary and quiet save when such a time arises that she should need to speak; she has no interest in the affairs of the living, like love, family, or the festive joys of life - food, drink, a comfortable bed, perhaps with someone to share it with.. Such things do not interest her. She is usually quite serious but has been known for times of icy humor or sarcastic joke; such times often come off as ill-natured, usually bitter, as her sarcastic jokes generally poke fun at her unliving condition.

Nox is fiercely loyal, though the things she is loyal to are few. She has no loyalty for the Horde: Orgrimmar could burn to the ground and she would probably find it humorous, if anything. She will, however, defend certain things with her very existence, the most obvious of which is the Dark Lady and the Forsaken - it would not be at all inaccurate to call her a 'zealot' in reference to her unbreakable loyalty to her queen. After them she has strong loyalties still to her old home of Quel'thalas, and though she will never publicly admit it, there are still great lengths to which she would go in defense of her elder brother. Other than these, however, she has no mental or emotional obligations to anyone or anything. Everything else simply goes in varying and increasing degrees of dislike.

She is very assertive. Nox has mastered the art of issuing orders in such a way that at once commands respect and total obedience, else the consequences will be dire. Even to those who are not her direct subordinates, she has a nasty habit of talking down to them. Officers of Horde legions from the other side of the world are, in her eyes, inferior, and are treated as such - she will not recognize foreign authority, and will take it upon herself to act, at least for the most part, superior. Casual encounters can frequently be made awkward by this as she is such a firm personality, with such an immense ego. She also hangs onto some old, hard racial prejudices. Certain races – most notably orcs and trolls – can expect treatment that is, if not immediately hostile, at least unfriendly in a very obvious way. If a race is not comprised of savages (like orcs) then it is completely weak (like humans) and deserves to be annihilated.

Short Version History:
--Born to an upper-class mage family in Silvermoon City, youngest of three kids.

--Learned to shoot a bow when she was a youngling. Met a dude named Anthil.

--Anthil became a ranger. Much happiness was had. Shortly after, he and Nox got together.

--Refused the way of the mage. Her older sister became a priestess, her brother hung out. She went the way of the ranger. Failed at the basic magical aptitude test, but was taken on as a deadshot – a sniper.

--Was booted from home for being magically incapable, so shameful! Moved in with Anthil. Got engaged.

--Years passed. The second war happened. Both Lisele and Anthil were called upon to fight when the Horde started partying at the border of Quel’thalas. Anthil was injured early on and sent back to Silvermoon to recover, Lisele remained on the battlefield until the orcs and the Amani trolls they were allied with were pushed back and away.

--Life goes on. Lisele and Anthil travel some, occasionally to Lordaeron and Stratholme and the like, just for the sake of traveling. On one such trip, Anthil got friendly with the paladins in Stratholme and put down his bow in favor of big ol’ Light-blessed hammer. Much excitement was had ‘cause, you know, the Silver Hand didn’t accept many of the high elven sort.

--Some years pass. Life is good.

--The plague happens, Arthas goes batshit insane, Quel’thalas gets violently pounded. Lisele and Anthil happen to be in Silvermoon. Anthil dies. Lisele survives with her brother and sister.

--Lisele is like WTF and she and her brother immediately volunteer to serve Kael and such. Her sister is like “you guys are weird as hell” and goes elsewhere to party with humans and such.

--The third war happens. Lisele does all that fun stuff that you do in WC3:TFT, and once Illidan is defeated at Icecrown and Arthas gets that promotion to the rank of Lich King, she realizes that she really doesn’t want to live on the broken remnants of Draenor, she’d much rather kill Arthas ‘n crap. So she grabs her brother and returns to the world she already knows

--Decides her people are useless, leaves Silvermoon and goes hunting through Lordaeron for answersss! Finds the Forsaken on accident. Oops. Is almost killed. Is not killed. Proceeds to investigate these intelligent undead guys.

--Decides to attach herself to them because hey, their mission statement is in line with her wants. They may not be the most lively company but they wanted Arthas dead as much as she did. She takes up residence in the Undercity and decides to start learning how to be a lying, sneaking, thieving, backstabbing little rogue, with the Forsaken as her teachers. Does get quite good at it!

--Receives the name Shadowstalker from her peers. Immediately embraces this new identity!

--Completely ignores all the crap that happened in TBC. While everyone else was killing Illidan and shoving Kil’jaeden back into the portal from wherever he came, Lisele was researching the Scourge and taking frequent trips to Northrend with only a small band of comrades to scope out what was going on up there, a good while before the official expedition started.

--Lisele was immediately involved when the Lich King woke up and decided to start killing people. She was right on the front lines, fighting battles and making observations as needed. Whatever had to be done.

--Went to the Undercity to report some things, happened to be around in time to see the battle for it unfold first hand. Was like, “WTF” and fought valiantly for the Forsaken. Hung around a little while until the dust settled, then went back to Northrend to play around in Icecrown.

--Was unfortunate enough to get locked in a scuffle with the Scourge. At first she and her companions thought they’d handily win the battle, but the Scourge just kept coming and eventually took captive Lisele and three others. The rest of her dudes died.

--Lisele was extensively interrogated deep in the bowels of the Citadel, far below what any raid has ever seen. She refused to answer their questions, so she was handed over to another interrogator, who tried using physical pain as a motivator to get her to speak. Did not work, she refused to tell him what she knew about whatever he asked her about. This interrogator decided he could get nothing out of her, he gave her to a devious lich.

--The lich warped her thoughts, memories, and dreams in ways that a normal person could not imagine. The sole purpose was to drive her insane, and he managed – Lisele clung to only enough of her sanity to preserve the thoughts and secrets that were absolutely dire she keep. The lich was able to extract all the knowledge and info he wanted from her save these few thoughts; when he’d done so, he extracted her soul from her body, killing said body in a horribly agonizing way for someone that is conscious to feel it.

--Her soul was contained in a little phylactery and prevented from taking shape. She literally existed only in the form of a shapeless soul, not a lich, not a banshee, not even a ghost – just a shapeless, massless soul. Bodiless thought. She was only vaguely aware of her situation at the best of times, but there were times where her thoughts inexplicably scrambled and shifted. Sometimes she could not remember what she was thinking. Sometimes her mind went completely blank. For three days this went on, until..

--…she opened the eyes she did not know she had. It was her body, her very own, the one her soul had been extracted from three days previously – cold and dead and unliving. She was not aware of this, though. No, the only thing she was truly aware of was that she served the Lich King and her purpose was to kill people in his name. She also knew her name, and her name was Noxvari.

--She trained. It was brief, she was a quick learner, and once she’d finished training she was out in the frozen north, killing people and generally being a terror. She took pleasure in leaving at least one survivor to bring word back to their leaders about her and her Scourgey companions. In no time at all, her victims began to throw themselves at her! How exciting.

--She took a journey to Dragonblight and was mindlessly clearing out a small camp of Forsaken apothecaries when, OOPS, she hesitated - her brain went really fuzzy all of a sudden and she hesitated to strike the killing blow on the last of the apothecaries. For the briefest of moments her mind was completely jumbled and thoughts – her own thoughts – broke through, and then she succumbed again to the Lich King’s will.

--Four days later found her heavily sedated with some kind of toxin, chained up in a cellar far under a building in Venomspite. They made a grand ol’ effort to bring her back from the other side, but they hardly succeeded in doing more than making her mind horribly confused. Suddenly there were two voices in her head, but neither made any sense. They even had the brilliance to call in that brother of hers' to attempt putting her head back on straight.. She just about killed him!

--So, at her sibling's suggestion, she was sedated and shipped elsewhere after three weeks in that dingy little dungeon, being told of a life she lived that she was sure wasn’t hers’. When she was aware enough, she realized she was in a quaint wooden building, and then woosh, she was being smote with the power of the Light.

--It took two and a half non-stop days of Crusaders exorcising and smiting the undeath out of her for her to completely regain her sense of self. It was a rather painful two and a half days that left her rather weak but free-willed and once more aware of who she was, where she came from, and where her loyalties really lied.

--Upon recovering, she immediately went to the Undercity, presented herself as Noxvari Shadowstalker, and restated her never-ending loyalty to the Dark Lady and her people. She was not immediately received well by anyone, but that’s to be expected.

--Has been loyally serving since then.

The Mount

Nox is rarely seen without her mount nearby.

For a time, she had ridden a warhorse given to her by the Forsaken. However, at the time of her capture, her horse was killed on the glacier and left there. No Death Knight is complete without a mount, and unsurprisingly, there just happened to be one that suited her nearby.

At the time of his birth, the colt was named Ithrandil. He was born deep in the southernmost reaches of Quel'thalas, not far from the pass leading into the Eastern reaches of Lordaeron. He had been selectively bred: sired by one of the finest elven stallions ever to serve the high elves, and out of a mare who had served well herself but was more well known for having been sired by a great stallion bred by the humans at the Balnir Farmstead in Tirisfal. It was believed that the blood of the humans' horses would temper the frequent skittishness found in the fine elven horses, and if Ithrandil's dam was any indicator, this was true.

Ithrandil had been born black as the midnight sky; he was a well put together foal with features just like his sire's, but a hair sturdier from the quarter he'd gotten from the thicker human stock. He was a handsome foal that grew into an awkward yearling, and then a beautiful two year old, and finished growing a couple years later as a handsome, elegant stallion standing at a stately 18 hands.

Unbroken at the age of four, Ithrandil spent most of his time intelligently peering across the yard at the mares and watching the elves ride past in their carriages. The days drew on without event until, quite suddenly, everything changed. Suddenly, his usual people never came to see him anymore - instead, Ithrandil was visited by a young high elf man, who took delight in bonding with the young stallion and breaking him to ride, a process which he was surprisingly receptive of.

And then one day, when Ithrandil had finished being trained by this high elf man, they rode off together. They rode south and then west, through rolling hills and fertile farmland until coming upon a large city: Stratholme. Suddenly, Ithrandil was no longer just some handsome stallion standing out in a grassy field. He was the most trusted steed of a Knight of the Silver Hand, and true to tradition, Ithrandil was renamed to comemorate this.
He was given the name Valor by his new owner and rider, Anthil Therilon.

Valor matured handsomely. As the years passed, his body faded from jet black to a pearly white, but his legs, his mane, his tail, and much of his face remained dark as night. He aged well, sharing the longevity of his rider's people, and became loyal and trustworthy as all paladin mounts should be. Valor and Anthil could communicate with little more than a thought at times - a mental nudge and the stallion would be off to carry his rider wherever he must go.

Valor was old by the standards of normal horses by the time of the Third War, but his breeding ensured that even when he ought to have been retired, he galloped on, unhindered by age. On the day the Scourge attacked Silvermoon, Valor bravely carried Anthil to the city gates, where the battle was already raging.

It took a number of assaults from spears and swords and axes to get the stallion to fall, as he eventually did before the Scourge. The Scourge, however, was a resourceful machine, and a fallen horse could at some point be useful for one thing or another. Valor was reanimated thusly, just a few short hours after he died.

For the next several years, Valor was ridden by a number of different servants of the Lich King. He never had a bonded rider in undeath, but was used for all sorts of things despite this.

When Noxvari was reanimated - created, even - it was with many of her memories in mind. Every Death Knight gets their own mount eventually.. It seemed only fitting that she should get this one, a horse with whom she was already very familiar in life. Unsurprisingly, the two formed a tight mental bond that persisted through Nox's liberation, and though Valor is a reminder of one of the many things she lost in life, the horse is a faithful companion.

Other

Skills in No Particular Order: Archery, swordsmanship, riding and horsemanship, poison brewing and minor alchemy, leadership, interrogation, necromancy.

Notes:
--No loyalty at all for the Horde. None whatsoever.

--Doesn't know a single word in Orcish. Has no desire to learn any words in Orcish.

--Believes in liberal use of the plague. Noxvari is a huge proponent of the Forsaken's biochemical warfare tactics and takes great pleasure in the opportunities she gets to unleash it upon her foes; she would happily plaguebomb the shit out of the entire Eastern Kingdoms if she was given the opportunity.

--No affiliation with the Ebon Blade whatsoever. She has never seen the inside of Acherus, she has never taken an order from Darion Mograine, and she was definitely not taught how to rock the DK thing by Instructor Razuvious.

Finally finished. My oldest WoW character! She's been done and redone so many times, I can't even remember what she was like when I first made 'er..

[Bloodyzan2]

Why are every single one of your characters mary sues and total bad asses. Oh wait, I remember, Attention magnet.

Mod Edit: User has been infracted for this post.

[Deleted]

Why are every single one of your characters mary sues and total bad asses. Oh wait, I remember, Attention magnet.

Mod Edit: User has been infracted for this post.

Lol, indeed. <3

Mod Edit: User has been infracted for this post.