Noire

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Information

Player: Adam255

Character Full Name: Edgar Robertson.

Character In-Game Name: Noire.

Nickname(s): Noire.

Association(s): (Formerly) Stratholme Noble House, The Forsaken. (Currently) Independent.

Race: Forsaken

Class: Assassin

Age: Died at 35, currently 44.

Sex: Male.

Hair: Black, long and held in braids on both his sides.

Eyes: Sickly yellow glow, hollow underneath.

Weight: 240 Lbs. (108.8 Kg.)

Height: 6'2" (1.89 meters.)

Appearance

Noire is always found in a well-kept tuxedo suit and pants, along with a black pair of shoes. Black gloves that went through some damage cover his hands, the 'fingers' ripped off. A white, long cloak covering his body, almost like a Warden's cloak just a little more open in the middle. A white mask covering his face from the nose-down, and his entire attire seems very well-kept.

Other: Noire carries two daggers on his sides, tied to his belt. They carry a small insignia of a noble house that doesn't exist anymore. The man also stands upright and stiff, back straight unlike most Forsaken.

Personality

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral. (Sort of)

Noire spent a large time of his life as a butler in a noble house, thus, his personality was affected by it. He lives to serve, in a way, and doesn't bother with other things. His usual expression is calm, calculated and rather apathetic. The man does not speak unless spoken to, and will do whatever task he's given from whoever 'owns' him. While being a butler in a noble house, he also had to always be prepared for assassination attempts, which were plenty. With all the times he's seen people die in front of his eyes, it made him cold and a man without any morals or limitations.

His view on other races varies, but generally speaking, he couldn't care less for a race. He pays attention to the specific person's personality, and not his race, though also that doesn't change much in his behavior to the person. Overall, Noire is polite and quiet, even when he has to resort to violence.

History

"Where should I begin, sir?" The masked Forsaken spoke up to a Sin'dorei sitting in a large, leather seat. The scene was a library, a calm library in the middle of a Sin'dorei village. "From the very beginning, Noire." The Sin'dorei responded with a firm nod. Noire returned the nod, crossed one leg over the other in his smaller, less elegant chair before he began speaking. "I was born to a middle-class family. Humans in the city of Stratholme. The night was cold, but not quite raining, if my memory serves me right." The Forsaken paused, bringing his bony hand to move a strand of hair from his face. "My parents were simple workers, my father serving as a bartender in a tavern, my mother being a professor in an academy for the arcane arts. They were rarely home when I grew up, each one with his own work until the late hours of the night. They hired a matron to care for me while they were away... Jisella was her name. Lovely woman." The Forsaken nodded once before continuing. "I grew up with Jisella, seeing my parents only at the late hours of the night, where they would fall asleep before speaking a word to me." The Sin'dorei man listened calmly to the story, nodding his head slowly in understanding before adding, "Harsh." Noire nodded in return and added, "Quite."

"Go on, Noire." The Sin'dorei man made himself comfortable, turning his gaze to the large fireplace beside them. Noire nodded once and continued his tale. "My years with Jisella were quite enjoyable, she taught me how to cook meals and always allowed me to help her in the kitchen, and when cleaning our small home. I enjoyed it, amazingly, it felt nice to forget about my parents in that way. Soon enough, I grew to be a young man at the age of eighteen, my parents still barely around the home. Jisella was as a mother to me, at this point, and it quite felt like it as we spent almost each waking moment together. Even when my parents saw it fit to get rid of Jisella, as I was old enough to care for myself at that age, I continued to visit her constantly in her small home almost every day." The Forsaken's arms fell to the arm-rests of the chair, his gaze turning to the flames of the fireplace. "Before I even turned nineteen, Jisella offered me to pick up work as a servant, or a patron. She said it would be natural for me, as I grew up with one from the very beginning." Noire's elbows bended, his bony fingers lacing with one another in front of his chest and his elbows remained planted on the arm-rests. "I agreed, quite obviously, and quickly began advertising myself as a young servant looking for work. As I was placing some of my flyers next to a well-known noble house, a man in elegant clothing approached me and laid a hand on my shoulders. He smelled of nobility, if that's even possible, but it was quite clear. 'Are you looking for work, boy?' He said." The Forsaken paused, his gaze lost in the fire of the large fireplace. "What happened then?" The Sin'dorei man asked.

Noire took a moment to collect his memories before continuing. "I responded with a simple yes, of course, and the man told me that he is looking for butlers for his house. Why he chose me, sir? That is a question I cannot answer you. I didn't know why he chose me, but he seemed rather friendly, and clearly enjoyed children around him. Think of an old grandfather that only gets to see his grandchildren once a year, except he was like that to anyone, and all the time." The Sin'dorei chuckled at the remark but remained quiet, letting Noire continue his story. "I began working for him. He gave me a black, elegant uniform that I carry and take care of to this day. My parents were amazed, to say the very least. Their own son working for a noble, though they did not object to it. They were both quite proud, as was Jisella when I ran to tell her the news. I began working for the man and his family, and they all treated me quite well, which threw my viewpoint of nobles at the time to the pits of hell, as I thought they were all too stuck up for their own good." The Sin'dorei flashed a smirk, clearly amused, but remained quiet to let Noire continue. "The pay was decent, but it came at a cost. A physical cost. Being a noble is risky, sir, and many people will want you dead, that time was no different. Only a few days after I began working, another butler that was clearly working for the family for a while taught me that it is a dangerous business, and that I must learn to protect myself and others. He taught me the art of handling daggers. Swift, hidden killing machines, as he called them. I soon found myself training with him after each day of work." The Forsaken paused, bringing a bony finger to tap one of the daggers on his belt. "They even gave me two daggers with the family's insignia."

"So far so good, Noire. What happened next?" The Sin'dorei questioned the Forsaken before him, the moonlight coming in through the windows of the library. Noire laced his fingers before his chest once more, continuing his tale. "Many years of hard work, assassination attempts and weapon training, I became a valued butler in the family's house. Killing... Seeing men die before my eyes. That is not a sight I recommend for anyone, sir, because as the killings came and went, I began to feel blank inside when running a sharp blade over a man's neck. No hesitation, no remorse." The Forsaken waved a hand slowly. "Blank. I was given the nickname, or butler name of Noire, and to this day I don't quite know what it means, yet I embraced it. The years were long, and it seemed that with each passing day I lost more of myself... Or was that perhaps growing up... Regardless, it went on for seventeen years, if I recall correctly, and shortly after I became thirty-five the Third War began. Arthas, sir, have you heard of his acts in Stratholme?" The Sin'dorei nodded firmly, his expression clearly darkening. Noire continued with a slow nod. "Indeed. I fell in the purging by a strike of a sword from one of Arthas' troops... It felt as it was the end but, clearly, it wasn't." The Sin'dorei man raised his eyebrow as Noire finished his words. "And do you remember anything after you died?"

Noire nodded once more. "I remember my actions when I was raised, sir, not when I was still dead. I worked with the Scourge, destroying cities and butchering innocents without any regard for human life. It went on as so for a year, give or take, until I suddenly felt free. I didn't know what had happened, but I did not have the whispering commands in my head, nor the need to slaughter. The Forsaken were assembled, but I chose to go off on my own path. I traveled to Stratholme once more, though it laid in ruins. Even if I was alive, at that point, I would have felt nothing... It seems my emotions were drained of me even more. I left Stratholme behind to continue my life, not quite knowing what else to do aside from serve people as a butler, until I came across a High Elf. She was old, clearly, and lived in a small shack in the middle of what seemed to be nowhere. She took me in as a worker, despite wanting to kill me at first for my horrid appearance." The Sin'dorei raised his hand suddenly. "Wait... But didn't she think you were still with the Scourge?" Noire nodded once at the words. "She did, but she was clearly not a usual High Elf. She was a master of the arts of Shadow, a skill that corrupted her mind with the years. It was not difficult to gain her trust after a few simple words." The Sin'dorei lowered his hand, nodding slowly at the Forsaken's words. "Odd, but go on."

"I served her as a butler for the following years, and in return, she taught... Perhaps taught isn't the right word... More of forced me to learn the Shadowy arts. I did so without hesitation, and soon merged the shadow energies with my fighting skill." The Sin'dorei blinks slowly, interrupting the story once more. "Wait... Your equipment stayed with you after death?" Noire replied with a simple motion to his attire. "It was tattered and ruined at the time, but the Elf assisted me in repairing it. She never did give me her name, I simply referred to her as 'Milady', at her request. I spent the next five or so years with her, mastering my new abilities, along with serving serving her as a butler." The Sin'dorei nodded slowly in understanding, grabbing a tall glass of wine from the table beside him to take a careful sip. "And what happened next, Noire?"

The Forsaken turned his blank gaze to the man before continuing his tale. "She perished, to say the very least. I was out collecting meat for her meal, and when I returned, I saw her corpse impaled on a spear. My suspicions were the Elves, considering her a traitor for practicing the shadowy arts, but that very well may be wrong. Regardless, it was not hard for me to move on at this point, I simply began my journey to find a new person to serve." The Blood Elf chuckled calmly and added, "And you found me, Noire." A simple nod came from the Forsaken. "You took me in to act as a butler, and so I did. Until this very day, sir." The Forsaken finally finished his tale, dropping his arms onto the arm-rests of the chair. The Sin'dorei nodded slowly and slowly rose to his feet. "And that is why, Edgar, I have asked you to tell me that. You see, I am not long for this world, and I wish to let go of you before my death in a proper fashion."

Without hesitation, the Forsaken nodded and got to his feet, bowing down. "Very good, sir. May your remaining days be pleasant." He said calmly, despite the supposedly sad moment. "It was certainly a pleasure, Noire." The Sin'dorei added as he held out his hand for a shake. Noire shook the man's hand firmly with his own bony grip. "Quite, sir." He added once more before turning his back to the Sin'dorei and taking his leave. Noire began searching for another person to serve, the world changed over the course of a few years, but it didn't bother the Forsaken. He continued on and on to this very day, hoping to occupy himself once more with his eternal job. "Life or death, it does not change my profession."

Skills and Abilities

Noire is very skilled with daggers after learning to use them most of his life. Along with that, after his death, Noire learned to create new forms of attacks with Shadow magic. Below is listed his skills that use Shadow magic.

Shadowstep: Noire falls into his own shadow and appears behind the target. The first movement of falling into his own shadow happens quickly, but the reappearing takes a few seconds.

Cloak of Shadows: Infusing his own cloak with shadow energies, Noire is able to remove snares, traps and at very rare cases, deflect throwing weapons.

Flight of the Bumblebee: Shooting out many small shadowy needles from his cloak at his opponent, Noire can use this skill as a handy distraction, along with inflicting some damage.