Lobelia

Information

Player: Caravan

Character Full Name: Lobelia Falkenrath

Character In-Game Name: Lobelia

Nickname(s): Falkenrath, [formerly] Lia, Biene

Association(s): The Black Harvest, the Forsaken, [lastly] the Horde.

Race: Forsaken

Class: Warrior

Age: 19 (at death), 28 (at present)

Sex: Female

Hair: Indigo, at shoulder-length left unwashed and unstyled.

Eyes: Her eyes have completely decomposed, leaving only orbs of necromantic light (Glowing Yellow)

Weight: ~140 lbs.

Height: 5’5”

Appearance

Lobelia keeps to the uniform of the Black Harvest and only removes it to clean, repair or otherwise maintain it; as this is done in private, one might say she –is- her armor. Whereas most of the pieces are standard-issue, her helm is of special note: dark cobalt, it sports two curved horns and a small ax blade that runs from her forehead backwards like a crest; the faceguard is designed after a snarling, gruesome creature of the nether. A gift from the Executor, her helm is rarely removed save for when she’s in the Chapel or when requested by a higher authority.

Other: Rather than despairing over the slow decay of her body, she views her body as another piece of armor to be maintained. As such, she has made it a practice to care for it: Replacing old/missing/rotted tissue, bone, and such from as fresh a replacement as she can find. The only thing she has never touched (and, indeed, it is showing both rot and claw marks) is her face. It is the only thing she has left of her previous life and until it completely decays away she wants to recognize the monster in the mirror.

Personality

At best, Lobelia is a taciturn woman. Death and subsequent unlife have left her stern, terse and bitter. At her worst, she has a vicious temper that is only kept in check by her strict adherence to protocols and authority. Though she would never admit it, she both loathes and is envious of anyone who claims to feel strong positive emotions; this itself is waning as she has steadily been forgetting the memories of feeling anything other than a dull, muted experience. Hardly a “fun” or jovial creature, Lobelia is marked by a flat and sardonic sense of humor; indeed, frequently one can hardly tell whether she has told a joke or threatened their well-being. She does not make ‘friends’ easily and keeps most individuals at arms’ (or sword’s) length. However, to the very, very few that she considers friends, she is a loyal confidant (though not exactly warm and chatty).

Lobelia is fiercely patriotic and clings to the teachings of the Shadow for guidance in her new unlife. Though she feels abandoned by the Light that is something she actually isn’t bitter about: she has become what the Light abhors and therefore should not expect the Light’s grace. Instead, Lobelia has a silent fascination and respect for those who have maintained their living faith and connection with the Light.

A quirk that Lobelia has developed since awakening as a Forsaken is disappearing for one night a month, with or without leave. Exhausted by the “one long day” that is her existence, she has long-since given up the dream of sleeping. However, she will find a quiet space to be alone and spend a night with her eyes closed. She does not pretend to dream or dream; rather, she will meditate or focus on remembering.

History

Prior to the horror that swept through her beloved Lordaeron, Lobelia was the only daughter of a well-to-do merchant family and a far cry from the scowling suit of armor she is today. She was a warm and obedient child who grew into a pleasant young woman. She doesn’t remember much of her parents, her village, or her early life. What she does remember is this: Her older brother took up sword and shield for king and country and, though Lobelia had been given basic (very basic) training with a sword by her father, she took up work as a handmaiden to a nobleman’s daughter. It was good work and she was happy to do it, but accepting the post was her first mistake. The second mistake came with the dutiful efficiency to which she did her job. But it was the mistake of saving the young woman from drowning at the risk of her own wellbeing that sealed her fate.

She never worried about the reports of ghouls leaching into the kingdom or the preparations for war. She never tasted tainted grain nor was she cut down by the risen forms of her fallen friends. No, the Cult of the Damned found her first. Lobelia had been told there would be a reward for her service, but her idea of a reward and that of her employer vastly differed; in lieu of money, he would present her the greatest reward of his Order. A promotion. Lobelia was murdered and risen to serve the Cultist and his masters, mindlessness embellishing her obedience. The ambitious nobleman himself did not reap such a reward (he was presented an eternal death upon discovery of his crimes) and upon being ‘freed’ from him, Lobelia was left to serve among the Scourge as just another set of claws and snapping jaws.

Salvation under the Dark Lady was anything but easy: Lobelia remembered. She woke where she had fallen in a battlefield, a rusted sword clenched in one claw and a battered excuse for a shield gripped in the other. There was no use lying to herself about her state: she saw the naked bone of her flesh-stripped fingers now lengthened into claws, the mismatched tissues of her legs, stomach, and arms. In the dull shine of her sword, she saw the glow of her eyes. She should have been repulsed – the former Lobelia would have been overcome with fear and despair – but instead she felt only anger. Furious, even. She roamed for a short time before stumbling into a ragtag militia group. It was through them that she learned of their present circumstances, and where she began her obsessive practice with the sword and shield.

Serving the interests of her Dark Lady with her unit gave her purpose and she did Her will without question. After several long years, her close comrade – a woodcutter in life – assumed command of the small unit. It was becoming a sort of natural routine, the way of her life (fighting and understanding the ways of the Shadow), until Wrathgate. Then everything fell apart, as all good things do. Her unit was disbanded, her friend dishonorably discharged, and she found herself stuck in Northrend defending a defunct post from elk and rot. That would not do.

Recently, Lobelia has resigned from her station and returned south, following the rumors or reports of a Harvest gathering under a woodcutter-turned-Executor. A Deathguard for the Black Harvest, Lobelia continues to do what she has always done in her unlife.

Skills and Abilities

Bulwark

Well-trained, and zealously-practiced, with a shield it has become an extension of her. Though she is competent in other fighting styles and other weapons, she is most efficient with a sword’n’shield and it is with this combination that she is most effective: Acting as a shield herself, she unflinchingly comes to the aid of her allies.

She’s Got Some Lungs on Her, huh?

If the nightmarish helmet did not do the trick already of making a would-be assailant wary, her battle cry might. Her imitation of a ghoul’s chilling shriek is near perfect and one could hardly tell the difference between the monster and the armored woman.