Hilal

Information

Player: Sunday12321

Character Full Name: Hilal Ajam (Formerly: Hilda Adler)

Character In-Game Name: Hilal

Nickname(s): N/A

Association(s): Independent

Race: Human

Class: Runemaster

Age: 43

Sex: Female

Hair: Black

Eyes: Dark Blue

Weight: 170 lbs

Height: 6'2"

Skills and Abilities

• Pattern of Restoration & Healing: Having traveled Kalimdor she has found two different patterns, putting one on each hand, each allowing a faster rate of regeneration on herself.

• Pattern of Awareness: A pattern on her spine, peeking up to the back of her neck, sharpening her senses and allowing her to keep a keen eye and ear on her surroundings.

• Pattern of Stone & Shielding: A pair of patterns on her chest and abdomen, the pattern increases the resilience of her body, allowing her to take stronger blows, as well as protecting that area of vital organs more than the rest of her body.

• Pattern of Striking: The pattern of striking, drawn on both her forearms and ankles, increases the force of her strikes.

• Patterns of Flame: A pattern on her hips and shoulders that allows her body to endure higher temperatures and have a better chance against fiery strikes against her

Appearance

Usual Garments/Armor: When traveling she is seen wearing a hooded long dark overcoat, buckled down to her knees, leaving only a small gap free for her to walk with ease. Under it, seen often when in a town, her clothes are modest in taste, and comfortable in figure: A simple vest that flows down over her hips, a pair of light trousers, and long travel boots that go up to her knee.

Other: As expected from a Runemaster, Hilal is riddled with tattoos, all of them blue in color as her clothes and eyes. Most of it only seen when she is without her jacket, but a crescent is tattooed under each eye, doesn't seem to be runic in nature, and a light silver chain connects an earring in her nose to one in her brow.

Personality

A nomadic spirit that has wandered and seen the world for years, Hilal is unafraid of foreigners. Her fluent and poetic use of the Common language makes her seem a bit odd, as she often speaks in metaphors, letting her soft voice settle her confrontations rather than her fists. A very peaceful person who would offer a helping hand to any and all people she comes across. She holds no resentment to anyone, and is often considered delusional for how accepting she is of all those she meets. She doesn't seem all too delusional, though, but quite dreamy, often found gazing into the skies, watching the birds, smiling like a young fool despite her age. Her walk is a dancing saunter, her movements and voice full of life and cheer. She will not even frown during a confrontation, but rather greet her opponent, whether they lost or won, for their strength and strategy. Easily charmed and distracted, and always ready for a good laugh, Hilal makes the best out of ever situation. Seems it is her way to live.

History

Born Hilda Adler, in Dalaran to a Knight of Alterac and local mage, little Hilda was taught to read at a rather young age, and the first thing she got to learn of is the world. Thanks to Dalaran's massive libraries, Hilda's curiosity was a flame that never stopped growing, until it threatened to throw her parents to madness with her non-stop questions. Eager to shush their child by giving her something to do, Hilda's mother decided to teach her magic, and her father decided to train her with a blade. Slowly learning a bit of each, Hilda barely had time to learn the two for a year before the invasion began. Her mother continued to teach Hilda, but her father left south to help the war effort. He never made it back.

Six more years pass swiftly, Hilda studying magic to be with her mother, but late at night she would practice with her sword to remember her father. She was already skilled enough as a mage to enlist the Grand Alliance Military, and good enough with a sword to not fall behind the other men. And so she joined the force, and headed south, down the path her father went, only this time it was a victory, and they have pushed the orcish invaders back towards the portal. Full of adrenaline and the need to avenge her father, a need that has been growing inside her for years, she decided to go forth with the Draenor Expedition. She did not expect what she saw there.

Even before the disaster struck, and they were stuck on the alien world for eighteen years, Hilda found the world beautiful. Curious of everything around her, from the dark runes on the spellcasters amongst her enemies, to the sky itself. Hilda stayed alive, but her spirit needed new guidance. Every day was a toll on her body and her mind, every day was a struggle, she kept journals, trying to keep her sanity as she watched those around her lose theirs. She learned a lot about war. More than she should've, if you would've asked her. But she also got to learn a lot about people. She found that the world she left behind was only so beautiful because of the different people on it. She decided, and swore to the Light, that if she was to survive this world, she'd return to her own world, and travel it all, north to south, east to west.

No one knows by what miracle did the Sons of Lothar survive that war. It is a mystery that will never be solved. Some say it was skill. Some say it was divine intervention. Some say it was dumb luck. To Hilda, however, it didn't matter. She found her home was destroyed, and saw it as an omen for her to start wandering the world. And so she did. She walked, on foot and not on horse, from the Badlands, to the Swamps, from there to the land known as the Deadwind pass. When she approached to the south, to the ruins of Kharazhan, she discovered something strange. She faintly saw a line, much like the lines she watched in the skies on Draenor, much like the lines that made the odd symbols on the orcish ceremonial garbs, and the clothes of their spellcasters, the markings on their blades and machines. Curious by what it was, but unable to investigate any further, she returned to Stormwind, eager to find out.

That is how she first realized the ley lines and the runes. She went from Stormwind to Ironforge, eager to learn more, and found a Dwarf, his body riddled with odd markings that could glow as he wished, and he agreed to teach her. Until this day she doesn't know why he did. Maybe it was because he saw the purity of her heart, or because she was already trained as a melee fighter, but had a solid understanding of magic. Maybe it was to comfort her for what she had to go through on Draenor. But to her it doesn't matter why, all that matters to her is that he did. And she will forever be grateful for it.

Learning the basics did not take long, with her past knowledge and training. And soon the two set out to help her find her own runes. First he taught her to spot the Ley Lines. Then he taught her of the runes, and then the patterns. But Draenor taught her not to rely on magic, as the demons are more affected by a blade than by fire. For that, her mentor taught her how to fight. He taught her not only how to use the ley lines for her favor, but also how to release her own spirit. How to divert her energy from a spell, to power a rune.

They traveled for years since, her skin collecting runes as they go. As they reached the South of Kalimdor, the Dwarf fell ill, the heat of the desert taking its toll on the old dwarf. Alone in the desert, she wandered for days, until she ran into Wastewanders. When she surrendered to them, asking them to let her work for them, as she has no water, herself, they laughed. They took care of her, only because even Wastewanders have a heart, and only a demon would leave a woman alone in the desert without water. But when she showed them her strength, they no longer had doubt of her, but were amazed and surprised at her power. Runemasters were not too known to them, as they are a nomadic kind, and would rarely stop to be with the wastewander groups.

They taught her of the desert, and of their stories. How they were not born in the desert, but all came from the different seven kingdoms. She was amazed, and they told her that in the desert there are no kingdoms, and so even though the Grand Alliance fell, to them it did not matter if a Wastewander was of Kul Tiras in birth, or of Arathi. She helped them with her knowledge, and they helped her with theirs. They lived in harmony for months, and almost a year. They have already accepted her as their own. And granted her a new rite of passage. And in honor of it, and feeling as if reborn in the desert and her travels, she decided to forsake her name, and name herself Hilal, as they called her, some of them having trouble pronouncing Hilda, but also Ajam, meaning stranger in an old dialect, and a reminder to herself that she does not belong in the desert, and she mustn't pretend she is.

When the Cataclysm struck, it was chaos in the desert. Shores flooded, mountains collapsed, ruins revealed. The group decided to try and wander into the new lands, where the other groups have not gone to, they may find water and food there. But Hilda did not join them. She told them she must go elsewhere, follow the ley lines, and discover more runes. It was a goodbye of sadness mixed with pride, as Hilda left them wiser than she was when she came. She wandered her way to Gadgetzan, and in the chaos of the reconstruction managed to slip on a ship back to the East without her being noticed as a Wastewander, which Gadgetzan deemed punishable by death in a cruel beating.

And so, she now wanders the world, bearing her past on her skin, but never frowning over it. Her inner flame letting even her dark blue eyes shine, and her runes shine brighter, completely forsaking the name Hilda Adler behind, taking on the name she chose for herself, Hilal Ajam, as she has forsaken her past, and only goes by the future she writes to herself.