Lunamere

Information

Player: MoonlightBlossom

Character Full Name: Lunamere Fal'thedras

Character In-Game Name: Lunamere

Nickname(s): To Be Bestowed

Association(s): The Horde, and the Blood Knights of Silvermoon

Race: Blood Elf

Class: Paladin

Age: 235

Sex: Male

Hair: Long, Brown hair; tied into a topknot

Eyes: Emerald

Weight: 177

Height: 6'2

Alignment: Lawful Evil

Appearance

Adorning the standard colors of crimson and black, he would never deviate from this motif.

Other: There is nothing striking about Lunamere. What you see is what you get; and that, is a militaristic posture and a continually stoic demeanour.

Personality

This, would be to imply that Luna has any form of personality to begin with. What personality he once had; has since been chiselled away, or is entrenched so deeply beneath his stoicism and otherwise aloof demeanour; that any separation of duty and actual sentiment are indistinguishable.

History

Once a liar, twice a thief; and always lacking any modicum of charisma or tact - Lunanere Fal'thedras is a tale, torn between sordid duality or mere supplement of the greater evils to be embraced; by loathe and revile, nevermore to be adorned with the stain of his shortcomings. This, therein, do lie his story...

Two centuries and two score years prior to present; to adorn the name which meant, "Moon over Water" in the Thalassian tongue, born to the Fal'Thedras name and lower sect of the cast in Quel'Thalas, was emergence of a child that would know only despise. Born to Solomir and Esthi Fal'thedras, this little one knew priveledge. Priveledge not imparted by his parents, as they were not clergy; not magistrix. Nary, his parentage existed solely by humility, to ply their trade of fletching for the Rangers of Silvermoon; the true heroes that hold all sway and impact over Silvermoon's well-being - all others, would come second in comparison. Not even adept with a bow, his shortcomings were unsurprisingly grand indeed.

For those two centuries he was raised. Raised under the notion that he will have no impact upon the well-being of Silvermoon; to fetch armaments for those which could prove far more useful to the society, futility and manifested contempt do forever hold their sway upon the otherwise envy-ridden Quel'dorei. To exist as a bard he once did; yet again his lack of tune nor grace imparted him any knowledge nor favor, again to be contented with never being that figure of impact or accolade amongst his own. Ah, but perhaps their continual oblivion to his existence would hold their merits yet - as a thief...and so he was.

Peasantry by "birthright"; and thief, ne'erdowell, bastard and crook - this "Moon over Water" had all but eclipsed in his existence as he wandered amongst the idle masses of his own in Falconwing Square; attaining his handfuls of silver at the end of each day from those that would forever be none-the-wiser. Yet, it was that long-aforementioned lack of grace that would ultimately be his downfall. It is humorous, a mere miscalculation by a wandering hand in search of coin and finery that would result in being locked away.

"How was I to know that wasn't a mana wyrmling beneath that scribe's robe? Why, he was certainly flaunting it enough. I daresay that was far too thick to be anything else, but again my knowledge by personal comparison has again failed me. Lock me away by means of perversion, will you? You rue the day I see your heads upon pikes, my darlings, and then we'll see whose wyrmling is far superior!", Quoth in his loathful rage by way of his newfound labels, "Petty thief and manhandler"; enraged furthermore by the fueling of his own apparent lack of equal endowment.

For two months and many moons, he knew only the four walls of his rather sizely cell. Awoken one eve by the dull, lumbering rumble of something unbeknownst; he could only listen. Listen to what seemed ghoulish, plague-ridden wails and groans of the denizens beyond the walls; the crumble of structuring and a hellish dread that washed over him; unknowing of what had befallen those beyond the walls. Perhaps the Orcs had come looking for a fight. The Guard certainly wouldn't be willing to tell; as there a notable absence of them. What happened to morning bread? What happened to evening bread? Was he left to starve, at last forgotten by those that knew his existence? A haunting silence lie in place after the cacophony of the happenings beyond the walls. Perhaps this silence, was the most unsettling of all. Things had eventually begun to grow dark; the mana crystals which had once illuminated the small hallway of the cell block had slowly lost their glow and luster - yet still that signified none which would come to feed the few within their respective cells. It had eventually grown maddening; the cries and wails of the others just a few cells down, blinded in rage and fury that "bread time" was now a thing of the past, the only form of measurement of time within these damp walls!

It felt as many moons have passed. Many moons with no food, nor water. When at last a shuffling of feet came down the stairs; what was seen were not Guards by any stretch; and the cries of inmates which reached their arms out to them screaming to be freed...were met in kind. A pair of their own kind, opened their cells; notably adorning tattered leathers much like the inmates; and onto the surface they had emerged. Lunamere was already so weakened from his lack of nourishment; and to see Falconwing Square: so normally flourishing with Quel'dorei now held a still silence. The buildings reduced to ruin, and none to be seen save for the occasional body strewn upon the cobblestone. Five days had passed since the rumblings were heard - the Scourge had lay waste to Silvermoon, and occupied it for three; draining it of all resources before lumbering offward through the waters.

Once Lunamere regained his bearings; at last being fed, and at last now understanding what had befallen his own - there was little more which he could do at this point. He heralded no desire to leave; and thus remained amongst the rest of bretheren - never reaching beyond their shattered walls. The now despondent Quel'dorei looked upon each other in silence; before each going within their ways of their broken city.

The reconstruction had begun. For five years, the Quel'dorei toiled in their efforts to rebuild the once splendorous Silvermoon; but devoid of resources after the unfathomable attack of the Scourge, it was no secret of what Kael'thas, the newfound king in the Sunstrider Dynasty, had in store. With the advent of the newly-forged powers bestowed by M'uru...perhaps this, of all things, was indeed his calling. To be infused with Light; this once-lowly denizen of the old Silvermoon caste now to be a harbinger, a weapon by will of the Blood Knight Matriarch. As Lunamere had taken it upon his volition to assist in the rebuilding of Silvermoon; with each pank of wood laid and each stone cast; it was in the waning hours of the daylight that caused his mind to wander the most - that, to see the old prides of Quel'Thalas; this regime of Blood Knights slowly gaining their impetus. Be it a fortification to prevent such mass damage by the Scourge, or a retaliatory and expeditionary force - perhaps both. Months have passed, and his mind had reeled upon the notion that he, himself; would wish to adorn those armors, exampled by Vranesh as he measures the progress of the order, though his continual scowls of disapproval were by means no moniker to how they were thriving. Perhaps following his hand in reconstruction; once these spires again touch the sky, will be then contribute his own part to these Blood Knights - and relinquish the past of a knave for all finality. He couldn't wield magic, he was a lousy cleric, he couldn't fletch, and his tension with a bow was shaky at best; however, he had a strong back, and he knew the basic necessities of swordsmanship; perhaps those were enough. Perhaps...

It was another month's time before he had it in himself to gain the courage for the undertaking of the endeavor, to be a Blood Knight. It sounded incredibly daunting for someone otherwise untalented. As the tensions of the city's progress tightened, it was motivation enough to at least try. And try, he did. The corridor was long and winding as he was directed toward the Naaru. To see its visage was nothing short of a rite of passage; its song and melody that tingles the ears, enough to make the hairs stand upon the back of one's neck, further sent him more deeply entrenched into his thought and the sheer extent of his commitments. Closing his eyes, he could, for a moment; feel himself being one with M'uru - a feeling of warmth infused into him; his veins hardening, his countenance tensing, and his overall stature shifting towards the embrace of what this odd figure seemed to condition him to. It was then, that he opened his eyes.

"Every soul perceives something different from it," a man's voice said behind Lunamere in observation, "and therein lies the measure of how one chooses to apply its sayings." Turning to look upon the man - another Blood Knight; adorned in crimson and black. He motioned to Lunamere, "Come."

For what time had since passed of that initial point, seemed much like a blur to Lunamere. Guided within the annals of the stucture, it seemed merely too fast for him. Too easy. Unable to shake the newfound feeling of warmth within him, the took everything in stride; although none of it truly sank in until he was given a collection of platemail and a hammer. To his delight, or chagrin - Lunamere had essentially drafted himself, in this conquest of Outland. Namely, a place called "Haala". Simple guard duty. Really. For months, he had trained for this; as it was known that eventually, salvation would come to the rest of Silvermoon by means of Outland. When the time finally drew nigh...

Simple guard duty. He was only half right. Aside from the continual bombings that ensued. Fortifying the rest of the regiment stationed within it, and the onslaught of Alliance flying above. A proverbial arm-wrestling between Blood Knights and Draenei alike - though it had forged him, broken him down, broken him in, and ultimately - made him efficient. He weathered the influx of interest in Outland with his fellow Knights, and once it was learned that Kael'thas never kept true to his word, many of his regiment were recalled to partake in the Sunwell Offensive. Lunamere, however; remained steadfast in his initial assignment.

After the transgressions and the passing of power; from Kael'thas to Lor'themar Theron; Lunamere was one of those amongst these newfound Sin'Dorei that did not participate in the Sunwell Offensive. Initially feeling betrayed by the once-King, without his intervention; he would not be where he exists to this day. Thus, remains his loyalty to the fool King - and though Kael'thas' time of favor had since passed, Lunamere retains his silence as to where his true loyalties lie - and to this day, continues his place amongst the Blood Knights, following his orders to the letter as a faceless entity, to reflect the order as a whole.

Recently, however, Lunamere has been hearing that he will soon be referred to a new, undisclosed sect of the Blood Knight regime...