Celladia

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Information

Player: Darkneon

Character Full Name: Celladia Starshooter

Character In-Game Name: Celladia

Nickname(s): Cell

Association(s): Darkmoon Faire, Silvermoon

Race: Blood Elf

Class: (Hunter by Default)

Age: 106

Sex: Female

Hair: Blonde, Ponytail

Eyes: Green

Weight: 96 lb

Height: 4'9

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

Appearance

Comfortable leather that get's the job done.

Personality

An old man quickly turns a corner neglected with age. Groans echo from the walls as footpadding pursues him. Water pelts the ground as another figure slides into the corner, then madly gives chase.

“Please! I did not mean anything by it!”, he pleds, turning and slowly backing away from the head-charging elf, hands waving in surrender. His breath is beaten from his lungs and he loses his balance and trips backwards, another body upon him in an instant. He squints through the rain and his head instantly snaps to the right, accompanied by a small fist.

“Take it back you old cot!” She punches him again, smiling to herself and he spits blood then glares up at her, only to return the gaze.

“Your freaking crazy!”, He groans as a few more fury-full fists find their way across his swelling cheeks, “Alright, alright! Damnit I'm sorry! I take it back! I take it back!” The elf proceeds to hit him one last time. The wieght on his stomach diminishes as she stands above him, laying down a foot to replace her former postion. Pushing him this way and that, looking him over

“Eh, not like I really care. Just curious as to why somebody with your face thinks they're good enough to try and touch me.”, she smiles at his humility. A Tauren rounds the corner and let's out an irritated sigh.

“You almost done Celladia?”, he looks down at the man with a told-you-so look. The elf looks back then regards the old man again, pushing her foot heavily off his chest and turning to smile brightly at the bull.

“Sure, I was kinda getting bored of this bag-a-bones anyways." She approaches the Tauren and twirls a foot around, "Great now I got nothing to do." A sly smirk spreads across her face and she looks up, "…say you wanna spar?” She watches the shaggy warrior happily. Only instantly frown as he shakes his head, “Gamble?” Tilting her head, curious. Reluctantly he nods, she cheers happily and skips past him. They both round the corner casually, leaving the old man in the pouring rain.

History

Raised into a very protective family, the small elf spent more time climbing and swinging in the trees of Eversong Forest then paying attention to the mentors that constantly nagged and hovered over here shoulder. During the Horde Invasion when she was ninty-seven, her family packed and retreated to Silvermoon City.

She wasted 19 more years wandering the Bazaar, bored. A few close quarter combat lessons (paid for by her disappointed and unappeased parents) in Murder Row kept her from blowing up and getting herself into trouble. Halting with the destruction of Silvermoon under the hand of the Scourge.

Growing tired of the drama and mourning elves, she took the translocation orb to Undercity. Which smelt-awful. Leaving her to take the closest route out of the festering rot-an airship to Grom'gol. Whenever it wasn't raining, she was enjoying the sunlight. Much to the dismay of the guards that constantly gripped about the useless rabbit. Growing tired of the same branches and vines to play amongst in the surronding jungle, she headed out to Booty Bay with the bag of gold her parent's released her with.

Upon arriving, she happened to run into the Darkmoon Faire, coming in from the human forests on their way to Thunder Bluff. Seeking adventure, she tagged along. Though, unlike the grunts of Grom'gol, they demanded she do something to help them make a profit. Putting her acrobatic skills as an lightwieght elf to use, she spends most of the time as a performer. Giving most of what she earned to the ringmasters for her upkeeping, and gambling the rest away to pass the time. Though, the patrons of the Faire weren't always the friendliest, it was insisted she learn more advanced ways to defend herself. Training under the fist-fighters that sparred each other and those spectators that felt lucky that day.

Spending five years with the gypsy-like people of Azeroth, she eventually grew bored of the daily routines and repeated travels, taking what she had and setting out on a so called ‘needed break'. Probably out the bath in the sun somewhere…lazy elf.