Lanora

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Information

Player: Auroraphoenix44

Character Full Name: Lanora

Character In-Game Name: Lanora

Nickname(s): Nora; Lan

Association(s): The Exodar

Race: Draenei

Class: Mage

Skills and Abilities: Herbalism, Inscription, Alchemy

Age: 90

Sex: Female

Hair: Black as the very night sky.

Eyes: Soft Sapphire

Weight: 200 lbs

Height: 7'

Appearance

Usual Garments/Armor: Always seems to wear a strapless blue and brown dress.

Other: Around her neck a small golden pendant pulses with a violet glow, as if coming from an unseen stone within it.

Personality

Having lost memories she wonders the world of Azeroth, her demeanor resembling the fire and ice she so freely controls. Her steely gaze telling of nothing within but a warrior. Yet some times, just sometimes a glimmer of what she was breaks through revealing a gentle and caring soul. Her armor is never far from her as those glimmers seems to vanish just as rapidly as they appear.

Her sharp tongue almost like icy daggers to any she does not deem worthy, and even more so to those she does. From time to time she will look to her pendant her sight lost to time for that moment as she remembers things she does not wish to, and just as soon forgets them.

History

It was on the planet named Draenor that I was born, and it was there... that I died.

The Orcs that my mother and father had so readily accepted even as most of our kind would barely speak to them, attacked us all with a burning rage. Murdering any who stood in there path, burning our homes to the ground while they laughed with mirth. My mother... was one of the first to die at their hand as she tried to reason with them only to be struck down before her lips could even part, my father following soon after as he went into a blind rage attacking mother's murderer with no after thought as to how he would fight them. With her last breath my mother threw her locket at me, her lips mouthing one single word "Run".

It was a miracle that I survived that day, if only in body, having watched as my family was struck down by the Fel Orcs. I was told to run, and run I did, my mother's treasured pendant clenched within my hand as I did, her blood still staining the surface now to be accompanied by my tears. There were few others with me as I ran out of the burning village but we all ran and hid.

The air never settled after that day, few of the warriors came back from the village to our hiding spot many badly wounded as those who were left tried our best to heal them in what ways we could. We were all to young, to have started our training, a tradition that I will forever curse.

Only a couple among us having begun there apprenticeships. Days and weeks passed by like this, the bitter cold winds and burning fire our only companions. When the attacks finally stopped those that remained came to seek us, once more we had no home...

Our leader Velen the Prophet among the few that had survived took up deeper into the lands taking refuge in grassy pastures, I begged the warriors to teach me, they would not. Those who called themselves paladins would not teach what they saw as still a child. I kept my insistence and a powerful elder called to me, fire and ice in his hands as he asked "Child do you truly wish to fight?" It was like this that I became his apprentice in the ways of magic; fire, ice and even the intangible arcane bending to my will.

Soon I was suspect that only he would take me because of it's very nature, magic is not something easily controlled and even less so mastered. It did not matter in another hundred years I was proficient enough to do battle in the front lines, I was more importantly old enough then.

By then, my efforts were in vain, the horrid elves sickened by there hunger came after our new home taking it from us, with some effort we managed to escape. To me it did not matter, on that planet... I died, my master the only remaining member of a would be family dyeing once more before my very eyes struck down by the invading fair skinned elves.

I remember little of the events from there until we crashed on the world of Azeroth. From the time I woke my body beaten and battered by the force of the crash to the moment soon after where I discovered I was barely able to stand, I remember nothing, not of my past and not of my present.

As I wondered the wreckage with no idea of where I was, or even what I was. My blood stained the ground, in turn blood lost making my vision blurry. It was only then, when I came to the river that I saw him. Trapped under the debris but clearly he was still alive as he struggled to free himself, rushing over I tried to help but I could not and in a sudden flash of light everything went black.

Coming to, my wounds had been treated, and he was no longer trapped, both of us sitting by the river bed I saw that both of his legs where broken and he was even in worse shape than I had been. Somehow I knew what to do as I tore my own dress to bandage him and tend to his injuries.

The days passed and we managed to make the shattered parts of the ship into something that would resemble shelter. He had done most the work with his magics, I had lost my own. As he continued to call for me, I replied. Still having no memories of him or anyone else.

Slowly he taught me again how to wield the magics, fire and ice bending to my will more easily than the arcane. He would also teach me one more thing, how to look for and gather herbs, telling of there properties by a simple swipe of the hand. He soon after shared his knowledge on how to brew and crush the herbs making them into useful potions and elixirs. I would later learn how to use the same herbs to not only make these things but also use them to empower pieces of parchment with a myriad of spells, how to record what I had learned as well in those pieces of parchment.

Days, weeks and months passed like this, and I could not help but fall in love with his gentle soul, but this paradise would not last long.

On one of my trips out to gather herbs in order to treat his wounds I would come back only to find what shelter we had built covered in blood, the walls all but painted with it. I could only collapse screaming in horror of what I saw. His body... gone. I ran and ran trying to look for help, until exhaustion over took me and I could no longer run. Weeping for his presumed demise, I slowly made my way through the world.

Where I am now... I might as well be dead yet again, so does it really matter?