Aloria

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Information

Player: Nephuria

Character Full Name: Celien Aloria Silverstar

Character In-Game Name: Aloria

Nickname(s): None

Association(s): Seven Silken Sisters, Burning Legion, retains Ladyship from her mom's side in Silvermoon

Race: Blood Elf

Class: Warlock

Skills and Abilities:

  • Word - Gift of speech
  • Fel Siphoning
  • Curses - Area of expertise
  • Fel Summoner - Can summon demons from the Nether
  • Fel Fire
  • Liar - Lies well and soundly

Age: 1,306

Sex: Female

Hair: Red

Eyes: Green

Weight: 145 lbs

Height: 6' 2"

Usual Garments/Armor: Blacks and reds, robes and shoes.

Other: Magic Addict, Fel addict, Addicted to Power

Personality

Alignment: Self Serving Evil

Once a Lady of the Court, her mannerisms and speech give way to evidence that she received proper schooling and lessons in politics. She is usually a dark joker, insinuating as much as she actually admits to. Her memory has been forcibly bound and closed to events prior to the fall of Silvermoon. She likes men, and makes most of her money from them, the art of seducing and half whispered words in the night being like a second language to her.

History

The Time Before

Young she was already aware she was not like those children on the street. She was expected to do more, to be better. Her mother was a Magus and oversaw her training in spells as well as books and reading. Her mother was her world; one woman from which she learned about life in all its aspects.

Together they traveled and grew, her mother became a woman of well repute, joining the Magistrate as a Magistrix of Eversong. Her daughter would know for generations that her mother had been a woman of uncompromising good.

They lived together until Celien entered into her three hundredth year. Then she attained her Magus status and was entrusted to travel alone and use her magics to her discretion.

Some 400 years later she would replace her mother as the Magistrix to Eversong. She thought this would be her life, and for a time; it was.

The Fall of a Nation

Mother! Where was she, where?! The foundation rocks of the wall groaned in retaliation to the sheer force of power exerted upon them from outside. Celien spun, her ears suddenly ringing as everything lit up; she looked around as she came to and all she could see was white light. MOTHER!

The woman screamed, she could not hear herself. Everything seemed to be moving through thick water, slow and unnatural. She put a hand to her head, and as she pulled it away she noticed it was covered in a warm red liquid. The warm blood began cooling rapidly on her hand, congealing like jello.

Her blood....what in the name of all that was Good was happening? They fought alone, no one came to aid them. Lordaeron had fallen, the humans withdrew to there stronghold of Stormwind. They were alone, facing the greatest threat they had yet known and they died like flies before a flame. The evil Prince assaulted the walls, the Scourge would be upon them soon.

Where was her mother...There! She knew that robe! Running toward her she knew something wasn't right. The legs...they laid at the wrong angle as the upper torso of her mom was spun completely backward. The left side of her head was burnt beyond recognition. Celien felt her heart break, but it was an after thought, a burnt pain that threatened to overwhelm her.

She looked up, as the wall exploded inward. She Blinked, and was suddenly a block over, watching the corpse of her mother being buried beneath the ruined wall. Creatures black as night exploded into the gape that would become later known as the Dead Scar.

A War Mage, she should be prepared for this, handle it better. But in all of her time among the army, she'd never seen her people face such complete devastation. Fire exploded from her hand, anger fueling her to draw more Power than she could safely handle. The Well seemed to hum magic through her body. She stood, fighting. For now.

The dark army was upon them, running through the hole in the wall as if it were their own red carpet. No, this wasn't their red carpet it was the blood of her family, of the people the army was sworn to protect. Her blue robes turned black on the hems from the blood they soaked up as she walked.

Death, they sought to bring it, and she sought to unleash it upon them two fold.

She was in Murder Row now, the only place where shade found home within the walls. How had they fallen back so far? She was running, as lightning fell at her direction. Craters filled the street as Magi fought and warriors met on the field of there spells. She was a Lady of the Court, her time with the army behind her.

To see her working, casting; one would have thought her still on the front lines of war. She was in the Court now, and noticed the Magistrates who could, opening portals to flee. Cowards! She struck a man down before he could get through his portal, the arcane hole closing as he died.

How dare they! They were meant to lead these people, not run for fear in front of the enemy. She grew sick as she watched. Suddenly light exploded yet again, this time within her mind. The Well....it was gone.

She stumbled, fell. She knew death would take her soon; and as a dark Magi approached, she was aware her final minutes ticked away. The man smiled at her as he placed a hand under her head. "You put up quite a fight my dear. Perhaps you will be of better service alive."

The man took her with him, his prize from this crusade of theirs. Days passed, and when Celien woke up, she felt something was amiss. She tried to stand, only to realize she was locked in place, her hands bound and mouth bound. Before her floated a crystal that hummed with warped evil power. Something inside of her ached, she felt as if she would throw up. Her body flashed between too hot and too cold. She needed something....her body craved it. She looked up as the door groaned open. The man walked in, his smile sickening.

"So you're awake. Good, I must say I am tired of feeding you."

Celien looked around, it was so dark. She hurt, her tears came unwanted. "What...what have you done to me?" She stammered.

"Done to you? Why my dear, I saved you."

Celien looked at him in confusion. "You...you took me. You are no savior."

The man's smile grew cold as he leaned in, too close to her. "When we took your precious Well I thought you'd die on me. However, I have found for you an alternative. Welcome to the Fel, my pet."

Celien was in the man's company for near a year, before her Fel addiction grew so strong as to erase what she once was from her mind. The Fel flames she could summon were not like the power she had once worked with. She had to live off of the magic, continual siphoning just to stay alive. She imagined this is what a leech must feel like.

Over the year with him, she had grown to not hate the time they spent together as man and woman. She was learning here, learning that this world was a Man's world. She had always been self important, knowing she could do as well as any man, but this one, he had turned her world around she never would come back now.

As they laid together, she slit his throat with her fingernails, digging her bony fingers into his skin until pools of blood welled from her fingertips. He screamed, until she felt his windpipe crush and watched as he drowned on his own life fluids.

She smiled, the anger inside of her the only thing reminding her she was still alive.

She chanted over his dead body, her mind pulling words from her memory of what the man had once done. She gave his blood and life force over to the incantation. She was unsure as fel energies surrounded her, the ritual summoning vexing in complexity, but easily followed after a year of listening to the male magi.

The imp who stepped from the warped shadows smiled, cackling maniacally. She did not like the laughter, her anger didn't allow for laughs. The demon spoke in his horrid tongue, but she understood. Shut up, she told him, and she smiled with satisfaction as the creature cried out in pain, before doing as she commanded.

"You will call me Aloria, and I am your Mistress. Do not forget." The imp watched her with hate filled eyes. He would try to kill her if he could, but she would not fall again.

She dropped her first name, going only by her second. This was her second life, one she had never been meant to live, and thus it deserved the name she had never planned on using.

For the next seven years she spent her time searching for Warlocks of power, to learn what she could. Thanks to her teacher, she found a way to keep herself fed and in nice clothes. She became a prostitute, using men the way she had been used.