Deamous
Contents
Information
Player: OfMeeseandMen (Etearna)
Character Full Name: Deamous Lightstepper
Character In-Game Name: Deamous
Nickname(s): "Deus".
Association(s): Silvermoon, the Blood Knights
Race: Sin'Dorei
Age: 158
Sex: Male
Hair: Platinum-blonde, feathered, messy and usually filled with twigs and branches.
Eyes: Glowing Fel-green.
Weight: 136 Lbs.
Height: 5'6"
Appearance
A mixture of things he collects on his travels, mis-matched garments made far more for practicality and protection than style.
Other: A deep scar across his back, one slashing across his cheek, and several on his forearms--looking a good bit like glass-shard slices.
Personality
Alignment: Lawful Good
Deamous is a pious man. His belief in the Light as a good and nurturing force is undiminished from his rough experiences, but his loss has highly impacted his humor and creativity. Those traits having been his outlet before Silvermoon's destruction, they are now highly introverted--but he keeps an optimistic outlook and mannerism none the less. He is utterly disgusted with the politicians of his people, and how easily they were swayed by the promises of power. His belief being (albeit a cruel belief) that they should have died rather than give themselves over to the Demonic energies of Fel. His anger runs further at their desecration and draining of the Naaru M'Uru, the Blood Knights holding no good place in his heart.
He loves the art of Inscription, of writing given magic form and life, and magic as a whole fascinates and attracts him like a moth to a flame. He is innately curious--having become so as the Sin'Dorei opened themselves up to other races. Deamous's combat skills leave much to be desired, only having about six years of swordplay to work with. Violence was never difficult to embrace--in fact, it brings almost a high for him, the adrenaline and the power. As he came into fighting during the last few years, he'd found his innocent ideology given to him by the Quel'Dorei priesthood to be largely irrelevant to the real world. Feeding into that, Deamous most believes in honesty. Fueling his power for the Light mostly is that, the idea of "the truth shall set you free". Now searching for a truth himself, it isn't a far stretch to say that Deamous is a Paladin for honesty, a warrior for the Light.
His family, both blood and marital, is far too difficult to comprehend or even discuss. The intensity of the last seven years ruined the mirage of a perfect existence. He is very merciful, and very forgiving. Killing is easy--too easy--for him, his mind numb and in shock. His mind could be considered shattered, the idea of optimism so engraved within his mind that seeing the truth, if it hurts, is not easy for him. Difficulty, struggle, and life are difficult for him to comprehend, internally. Everything is external, and the duality of his searching for a truth he can never find is what breaks him slowly further.
History
War worst hurts the innocent; and Deamous Lightstepper was a prime example of this. Born into a small hamlet in East Quel'Thalas, the young High Elf took intense interest in the worship of the Sun and Light. He was born to a strict, traditionalist father, Danadal Lightstepper, who worked on a very large team of architects, helping (in a distant way) to create many of the styles of Quel'Dorei architecture seen today. His mother, Valanice, on the other hand, worked as a seamstress. The two of them had five children in total, Deamous the middle child. Being the middle child, Deamous's interests were far separated from his brash older brother and sister, and his younger sisters' naivete.
At the far, far young age of 10 he was admitted into the Temple, and began to be trained in the arts of the Light. A worshiper of the Light to his core, it was easy for him to work with the Priests and Priestesses--but his relationships with his fellow disciples were strained, Deamous's natural social awkwardness coming from his strained sibling relations. As for his carving upon rocks, a Priest one day took note of his inscribing various texts--some of which he did not know the meaning of--into the rock, and took him on for private Scribing lessons. So he learned Inscription.
During the course of his training his family had struck a deal with a lower-end Noble family, Deamous to be married off to their youngest daughter when they were of age. And so it was, a Priest at 110, Deamous was married to Marianna Streamspath. A beautiful Quel'Dorei female, Deamous was taken by her charms. There was no question that, in their relationship, she wore the pants. The young Priest was happy to do the chores, to make her happy, and treat her like the oppressive, but loving Queen she acted like. She would do very little work, and took advantage of the Scribe-Priest, yet the couple ended up having seven children of their own in the years to come... Daniel, Amarist and Athela (twins), Karran, Kaida, Yunus, and Raye, all seven of his children, as individual as he and his siblings; most of whom, along with his mother and father, had moved into Western Silvermoon following the Streamspath deal.
Those next fifty-one years were joyous. His daughters were well on their ways to becoming Traditionalist Priestesses of the Light (much to their grandfather's delight), and his sons, Daniel, Karran, and Yunus, were training to become Paladins. The Priest Deamous was as kind as ever, giving (perhaps to a point spoiling) his children and his wife who, obese at this point, more or less controlled him, while he spent day in, day out praying to the Light.
But seven years ago, utter disaster struck. The whole of Deamous's family had been invited to The Streamspath Manor in Western Silvermoon. Deamous had been intensely nervous, his reactions with the Streamspath family few, distant, and almost always awkward. Though the majority of his visiting children, now in their fourties, had no problems with their grandparents, aunts, and uncles, Deamous himself had always been considered a pushover and a sissy. After a particular humiliating meal (involving the tablecloth and Deamous's wife giving him a black eye), he'd run out into the gardens, to vomit and cry a little bit. And that was the day that the Scourge invaded. He'd see undead smashing through the manor windows from his little garden watch, glass bursting from a window as buildings began to smash and crumble. Holding up his arms to protect himself from rubble, gashes were slashed across his arms, leaving deep gashes, his fat wife leaving a final scar across his back before he escaped the manor, escaped the rubble and the destroyed the City of Silvermoon.
It was years later that he found himself scrabbling through the Plaguelands, blood and mud caked on old, ill-fitting armor, the sword in his hand having replaced the fierceness of his faith, his family's death in one day and one night having killed a part of him--his own sons and daughters ripped to shreds, his mother, father, and siblings having died fighting for their country, while the flags of Silvermoon were stripped down. He learned to fight, his Holy Light stripped from him when the Sunwell burst, and he helped retake Silvermoon (gaining a nice gash across his face from his lack of experience). This transition was horribly difficult, the lack of the Holy Light having drained him immensely, only to be filled to the brim with the opposite (Fel) energy, to save his life, as it had countless others.
The Blood Knights took advantage of his ties to the Light (newly formed as they were) and trained him to fight with sword and shield. It was arduous work, the man's muscles and his spoiled nature ill-preparing him for the challenges he would face. The biggest challenge for him, however, was M'Uru. Filled with Fel energy, the lack of Light Energy also began to consume him, his addiction taking over the love in his heart, and so he sapped from M'Uru. It tore him, but he needed it--he needed the Light, and in the midst of this paradox-induced madness, his mind broke, and his mercy slipped from him. He excelled in his training in his second year, bringing the Light into every strike, using its power liberally every chance he got, the Light feeding his arcane addiction like nothing else.
This shamed him--not only his addiction, and not what he felt was sacriliage in stealing power from M'Uru. This shamed him, because every evening he would weep in the corner of his room, broken, unable to stand up and fight against the Knights, against his addiction, or even against his late wife. He'd come to meditate instead of prayer, finding it relaxing--and he fought on as a Paladin of the Blood Knights, until the purification of the Sunwell. He then turned away from Silvermoon, on his people, and left, feeling his power ill-gained. His addiction finally gone, the emptiness he feels still pains him.
Believing that the Sin'Dorei peoples' greed made the Light leave his people, he travels today to see forgiveness from the Light. For when Kael'Thas brought the Fel to reignite his people. From that event, and from the years of his magical addiction, he felt dirty, sinful--as though he'd chosen his life over his Faith. Gaining a small amount of money from Inscribing for his fellow Paladins, he promptly spent it on a weapon, a shield, and left Silvermoon. Today he draws from the Sunwell, not the Naaru, as part of his punishment, but holds to the tenants as even to today, his faith in the Light lives... but his allegiance to his people is lost.
He just spends these days, wandering, his misery having stabbed him so deeply, twisting his mind. He's not quite insane, but his past does not quite register to him. He twists all he knows into optimistic humor, unable to comprehend it. The memory of his parents' traditionalist, holier-than-thou attitude making him a falsely joyous explorer, in the melancholic existance searching for forgiveness, and reason to live.
