Lithryl

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Information

Player: Lyre

Character Full Name: Lithryl Sil'Induin of Dawnstar

Character In-Game Name: Lithryl

Nickname(s): None

Association(s):

Race: Sin'Dorei

Class: Priestess

Age: 132

Sex: Female

Hair: Platinum

Eyes: Green

Weight: 118 pounds

Height: 5'6”

Alignment: Lawful Neutral to Evil

Appearance

Cultural Sin'Dorei robes, hand tailored and dyed to reflect her people. She adorns herself with the current fashions that are seen in the streets of Silvermoon City and relies on symbolism and color to express herself where her attitude and formality will not.

Personality

Well spoken and sometimes heavy worded she sees herself as a representative of her people, as both a mediator and a counselor. Deep beneath her high morale concepts of herself lies the true woman, a morose and wounded creature that weaves a philosophical mix of comfort and lies as easily as she weaves a needle through fabric. Her take on morality is that survival has now taken superiority after the massacre of the Third War and that serving one self and those close to them is not wrong, it is preservation. With her priestly words of morality she continues to guide others in their affairs, but it is not uncommon for her to council others to be smart and live another day instead of wasting their lives in action.

She takes great pride in the arts and envisions herself as an artist and creator, loving to wear colors and styles representative of the current flow of feeling beneath the mask of her face. A placid smile often marks that face, something that she has developed to hide the torrent of emotions underneath.

She is a firm believer that her wants and needs must come last of all things. She uses her position as a counselor to stifle personal emotions, hiding them deep inside so they will not betray weakness or misguide her judgment. She considers this time in her life as a challenge or test which she must hide her true feeling self from lest she fall beside her brethren because of actions taken in the thrall of either grief or the sickness of seeking revenge mindlessly.

History

Born to a magister and his seamstress wife in the bustling city of Silvermoon, Lithryl led a life of seclusion and scholarly pursuit. In a time before the betrayal of their race by the Alliance the young child was taught the tenants of the Light, encouraged by her parents that both rejoiced at the sight of their child picking up the lessons of priesthood early in her development. She was a gentle child, and her parents were most pleased with her polite yet discerning demeanor. Their daughter also preferred the educated company of adults to the antics of her peers, choosing literature over adventure to make her a very reserved child. With the libraries of Silvermoon always at her disposal she spent her youth learning about her proud race and the lessons that history had to teach, spending years lazing on a balcony overlooking the bustling streets with a book in hand.

That was, until the Third War arrived. She stood at the sidelines, barricaded away from the blood shed with hands trembling with rage as she struggled to call on her strength to draw the latent energies of her surroundings and turn them with the Light. The core of her being screamed a deaf roar in her ears urging her to change the balance, to let the shadow consume her and to wreak destruction on those that would decimate her people. At the age just prior to her arrival at adulthood she had slaughtered the pain inside to a faint whisper and turned her head high. After the final screams of agony she and her mother walked to what was still standing of the great fountain with silken robes that had soaked in scarlet dye under the sun and washed them, painting the water a color of vibrant red. The color of the dark red robes now matched the blood that marred the streets of their beloved Silvermoon City.

The nation of elves slowly recuperated under the guidance of Kael'Thas Sunstrider. Lithryl and her family worked to rebuild their city and piece together what remained of their lives. However as the poisoning of the Sunwell and the following birth of the Wretched changed many of the Sin'Dorei's lives for the young daughter of Quel'Thalas it eradicated any semblance of her old life. Her father soon after retreated into his study, only to leave when the sun fell past the horizon as it would burn his eyes. Her mother was preoccupied from helping repair the aftermath of the city to notice at first, but soon she remained home to mournful sleepless nights. Their voices would raise, the sounds of fighting resounding off the brightly patterned walls. The thin sheer veil that closed around the bed of the restless daughter failed to guard her from the encroaching fear that her father had fallen ill. Despite how hard she blindly denied them rumors that he had committed something terrible floated about her ears.

One night a hand stroked over her cheek and she lifted her eyes to find the sight of her mother watching over her sleeping form, the low glow of her eyes full of a pained light.

"Lithryl, my child, you must wake and listen now to me. Your father's illness has progressed beyond what I can dream to mend, and I fear it will spread further. He knows what must be done, what he wishes while he can still feel beyond the hunger. He wishes to be remembered by all as the man he was before he fell to this hated disease. He does not want you of all people to remember him as a shade, as the damned Wretched. I will go with him... at his side in death, as I am in life."

Her arms grasped Lithryl's wrists, gently lifting her into a sitting position. Kneeling at the edge of the bed her mother closed her eyes and whispered, "Give me your blessings child, for I must tonight shed your father's lifeblood, and meet death itself."

"Minn'da... please, don't do this."

Her mother's tone sharpened as her hand tightened on her daughters, a rare sound from her doting parent. "We will not tolerate being remembered as Wretched. We die as exemplar sin'dorei, and you will honor and obey our wish." The hard gaze bored into her child's tearing eyes but then softened, a thin hand passing through the curled tendrils of her child's hair. "Live your life and know that we stand with you always. May the lessons of our lives teach you that the Light and Shadow both have their time and place - use them wisely. Think of us as light and dark, minn'da, ann'da... always with you."

The words of forgiveness and fortification slipped out of her child mouth just as the tears slipped down her cheeks. A silent scream racked her being as the shadows of her parents stepped through the light of the doorway down below, the green flash of their eyes raising up to Lithryl for a final time.

In the years to come her heart no longer sung with the hope that thrived in the glory of the Light. She could not return to sit on the terrace in her complacent studies, horribly alone and seething inside. The poison that turned her people on one another, that raised the dead to commit atrocities in the name of the Lich King, and that finally corrupted her esteemed father matched a imagined poison inside of her; a sickness that had crept deep inside of a hole tucked beneath a hidden passage to her heart. As Quel'Thalas wore a hateful scar in it's chest, as does Lithryl. A scar of defeat and death amongst the eternal spring time of the lands of the blood elves reflects the scar in the bosom of a mournful priestess.

From that scar's resting place her blood is tainted, seeping through the passages of her veins. Every step that she makes which presses against the earth she quells the hatred inside that threatens to numb all senses and then turn her mending hands to instead destroy the fabric of the living. Her pride now cradles her body to sleep, intangible fingers stroking her hair as she dreams.