Diora

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Information

Player: Lux

Character Full Name: Fay'Diora Alexandra Figo

Character In-Game Name: Diora

Nickname(s): Diora, X.

Association(s): The Forsaken and Undercity, but most of all the Cult of Forgotten Shadow.

Race: Deceased human - Forsaken.

Class: Shadow Priestess

Skills and Abilities: Diora possesses the will and ability to inflict excruciating pain to an opponent, as well as creating images and installing fear in their mind.

Age: She was 32 when she died. She is 42 now.

Sex: Female

Hair: Dirty purple. (Used to be a warm red colour)

Eyes: The once bright green eyes have now turned a sickly yellow.

Weight: 102 lbs

Height: 5'4"

Appearance

Her face bears witness of her former beauty. Still delicate features, twisted by the touch of death. Pale skin with rotten spots here and there. The torn parts of her body have been stitched up neatly, where ever it's been possible. An x-shaped cut stretches across her chest, right where her heart is located.

Usual Garments/Armour: She prefers robes at all times, and her favourite one is a black/brown/golden dress with some purple detail. It has lost its original shine and smooth features at this point.

Other: She carries a simple wooden staff.

Personality

Alignment: Chaotic Evil

Diora is a rude and direct lady, wrapped in the left over manners of her former life. She is the kind of person who would look you in the eye and tell you directly that your mere presence is getting on her nerves, but the message will usually pass in a correct tone and with a polite use of words. She is a firm believer in sarcasm as well.

Diora is no ray of sunshine. She rarely likes anything aside from the few interests she has, one of which being her collection of hearts. She is looking for a new, perfect heart to replace the broken one she was reborn with.

She does not remember who she was before she died. The story of her life and death is printed in her mind, like a distant memory or a story she's heard, but she does not regard it as her own.

Diora sympathises with the Lightslayers, and their ways and goals. She respects these people more than almost anyone else. She would like to be one, however there's nothing hands on or rogue-like about her fighting style. And soldiers? She hates them. With passion.

History

The first life: Fay'Diora (Or Diora as she was most often called) grew up in a small village located close to Stratholme. She was the middle child in a flock of three, and had an older brother and a younger sister. Her Father was the town smith and the family never went to bed hungry. Her mother stayed at home and took care of the children and the house. She was something of a wise woman and would help heal the wounded villagers and bring children into the world. As Diora grew older she would help her mother with this learning from her what she knew. She would also learn to sew shirts and make dresses from an old seamstress in the village.

She was 28 when she met her husband Loren as he passed through her village on his way to Stratholme. The handsome, young man (quite a few years younger than her) was stunned by what he thought was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, and he stopped to talk to her. He soon had to leave her and finish his journey, but he returned only a few days later to ask her hand in marriage. It was love as first sight for them both and they got married that summer.

Diora and Loren stayed in the village. At first in her parent’s house and later in a new house that Loren had built for them. Their love grew stronger every day. Loren would work helping out around the village to put bread on their table and Diora still helped her mother taking care of the villagers.

After three years together they were finally blessed with the one thing they were really missing in their lives. Diora got pregnant and they awaited the arrival of their new baby impatiently. Everything was perfect and they couldn't be happier.

Until that day. The day everything was taken away from her.

The village was attacked by soldiers an early morning following the example of Prince Arthas, trying to contain the plague that had hit Stratholme. The villagers had heard about people in Stratholme falling ill, but not that the entire city had been purged from the evil that had fallen upon it, by their prince and his soldiers brutally slaying everyone there.

Soon the village was covered in smoke from burning houses and the the screams from the villagers mixed with the sound of metal against metal. Throughout the unbalanced fight between trained soldiers and defenceless villagers Diora and Loren ran to survive. They were followed and tracked by soldiers on horses loudly enjoying the hunt a bit too much.

Diora fell over tripping on the uneven ground in the forest and her foot was bruised so much that she couldn't run any more. Loren carried her in his arms a bit further but he couldn't carry her and run fast enough for them to get away. He hid her in a growth of bushes and told her to not make a sound or to even move. He kissed her goodbye and ran off making sure to be seen by the soldiers and to pull them away from where she was hidden. The soldiers caught him and quickly ended his life.

Diora heard him cry out as he was slain and she couldn't help but scream out in terror. The soldiers found her and dragged her out, running a dagger into her heart.

Reborn: Diora woke up confused and unable to remember what happened to her. She felt nothing but an all-consuming hate inside and even the shock of being undead is numbed by a strange indifference. The memory of her past life would linger in the darkness of her consciousness but she didn't accept it to be her own.

Searching for a purpose she ended up in Deathknell where she received training to become a shadow priest. Her powers grew, feeding on the hate that filled her, and she trained her spells tirelessly until she knew them by heart.

Diora did not follow the movement of Forsaken that went to Northrend. Something about being surrounded by soldiers, even of her own kind, made her anger escalate immensely. Instead she stayed behind and concentrated on her magic and research. She kept to herself and put all of her focus into her craft.

Constantly she was haunted by a feeling of emptiness. She pursued the gain of power and constantly tried to expand her knowledge to make the feeling go away, but nothing helped. She needed more.

Eventually she started to collect hearts trying to find the one that would make her feel right again. Whenever she'd find a new heart she'd open up her chest, carefully removing the one she carried inside of her and replacing it with the new one she'd found. The replaced heart she'd keep in a glass jar with all its predecessors in a cupboard in her little house.

"The heart I woke up with was broken. Actually physically torn. Knifed. I thought replacing it would get rid of this tight feeling in my chest, but when I did I was still lonely... Miserable. I just can't figure out why. Maybe it was the wrong kind of heart."