Felicia

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Information

Player: Kyndari

Character Full Name: Felicia Dawnsteel

Character In-Game Name: Felicia

Nickname(s): Feli

Association(s): Horde, Blood Knights

Race: Sin'dorei

Class: Paladin

Skills and Abilities: Assorted Blood Knight abilities - proficient with sword and shield as well as two-handed swords - tends to stay behind and cast spells more often than engage in melee.

Age: 126

Sex: Female

Hair: Red, in loose ponytail

Eyes: Emerald Green

Weight: 145

Height: 5' 8"

Appearance

Usual Garments/Armor: Blue and gold Alliance armor from the Third War, longsword with emerald in the hilt and a Silvermoon crest shield.

Other: Small satchel of various supplies: food, camping materials, armor polish, and a bottle of shampoo labeled "Not Fenoriel's".

Alignment: Neutral Good/Chaotic Good

Personality

Considering the amount of loss she's seen, she has a pretty jaded view on the world. Realistic more than optimistic, and little time for jokes when it comes down to serious matters. Not one for frivolity, she tends to take a backseat whenever it comes to matters of diplomacy. She may be able to talk her way out of a problem, but if someone else can do it, all the better - she'd rather cut straight to the end and be done with it. The only time she's different is when she's around Fenoriel Arcamenel - and at that, she seems to smile more, and start to make jokes, and join in the fun a bit.

History

Born in Windrunner Village in what is now the Ghostlands, she was born to two parents who had been trying for quite some time to have a child. At the suggestion of a friend of theirs, considering their luck, they named her Felicia. Growing up in Elven lands was rather simple, and generic for the most part. Learning of the bow and of magic, and staying away from the Trolls. At the tender age of fifty-two, she returned home to find her village under attack. Quickly felling three Trolls, she was seized by a fourth, who was unlucky enough to be stabbed in the eye by another arrow from her quiver. Having run out of arrows, she picked up the nearest sharp object - a large troll-make longsword. Short enough for a troll to hold in a single hand, but large enough for her to have to use both hands, she quickly helped the defenders of the village make short work of the remainder, driving the chieftain and his flunkies off.

But not all stories have happy endings. With nary a scratch, she rushed for her house - it had been the first to be attacked. Her parents' bodies lay broken, her mother's arm disjointed. The entire home was a wreck, and the walls covered in gouts of her parents' blood. There was nothing left for her there. She mourned for a month before a friend made her see straight... But her heart hardened. She stood tall, leaving her tears behind her, as well as all affiliations from her home. No family, no friends, no regrets.

She kept the Troll's blade, though, and set about buying armor, paying for it with odd jobs and the occasional fur. Buying each piece individually, from the same blacksmith, she began to take a liking to the man. He showed her the intricate designs, and how to mold them, and eventually started teaching her how to repair her own, much to the dismay of his employer. They started to get to know one another, and then to date. His name was Fenoriel Arcamenel, and they became very close, even if she was strict and rigid, and he was flamboyant and confident in his looks.

Training as a warrior, she fought in the Second War, learning from her comrades-in-arms, the Humans, of the Light. A quaint concept, it captured her rather bored attention whenever spoken of, and she was eager to learn more. She was especially fond of the 'Tenacity' bit that the Paladins were so fond of. Unfortunately, at least to her, she was not selected to become a Paladin and join the Silver hand. After that war, she was left with a sum of money to ease her back into civilian life. But the idea didn't take. Her neighbors, not wanting to be remembered of the war in any form, would grimace at her as she practiced her technique with the blade outside... And so she practiced inside. She moved to a larger home with a high ceiling in the main room away from the neighborhood, and every so often would be caught swearing after she broke something in the home.

With the threat of the Scourge approaching quickly, she joined the defenders. Although on the other side of the battlefield from Arthas, she heard of Sylvanas' fall, and change into a Banshee, and wept openly as she cut down the abominations. The Ranger-General, known and beloved to them all... Fallen would be one thing, and they could respect her in death, but forced against them, and to be their undoing? Felicia was angry, and a righteous fury welled up inside her at the thought, becoming one of many Elves that survived simply because they fought so furiously that their speed made them unable to be touched for the most part.

After the battle, she was found among the broken bodies, gasping for her breath, cuts from blades adorning her body. 'Light wounds', they called them, and so they were; at least in comparison to what happened on the other side of the battlefield. Arthas' army had decimated her homeland, driving a blighted scar up through the forest. She returned to her home to find it a broken mess, destroyed and tainted by the evil beasts. Not a thing inside was left uncrushed, unbroken, or unplagued... And so she lost her home a second time, leaving her with only her armor, her blade, her cuts, and her wunded psyche. She didn't even know if Fenoriel had survived.

A week later, she received a missive from her commander during that battle. He had survived, and sent her a summons. An odd thing, since she was only a building away from his office, staying in the barracks for the time being. She marched into his office, and the door slammed behind her. In a moment, she had her blade outstretched, pointed the throat of... Fenoriel. He gave her that roguish grin, and she smiled. Happy, for a time.

Considering the Arcane magic from the Sunwell has been disrupted, she, like most her race, was forced to turn to 'alternative sources'. Her eyes changed along with her compatriots', becoming a Sin'dorei. A change of events she'd have rather beaten off with a very, very large stick, but one she could not avoid.

The events concerning Ragnaros and Nefarian passed, and during that time, she practiced with her blade. At Fenoriel's insistence, she took up a smaller blade, and shield - though to this day keeps the longer blade handy - and became quite proficient with it, especially with coordinated movements alongside Fenoriel.

Some time passes, and Lady Liadrin started up the organization known as the Blood Knights... But though they wield the Light, something seemed off about them. Felicia joined tentatively, and followed orders well, but didn't seem to get far in controlling the Light. However, after the Sunwell was reclaimed, she was able to draw on its power, and found that she is quite good at using it to mend her compatriots - especially Fenoriel.

They're often paired together to complete objectives, and often complete them without much difficulty. The only problem they seem to ever have is when he 'borrows' her shampoo and doesn't give it back.