Rassia

Information

Player: Moose

Character Full Name: Rassia Riverwind

Character In-Game Name: Rassia

Nickname(s): Rass, Rassie

Association(s): Sin'sholai (loosely), House of Ayares

Race: Blood Elf

Class: Warlock

Age: 120

Sex: Female

Hair: A full and straight platinum blonde. It tends to fray at the edges.

Eyes: Flickering fel green. They're usually glaring at someone.

Weight: So thin it's worrisome, even for an elf. She's practically a stick--no curves to show off, no stomach to think of. This doesn't seem to bother her, as with most things concerning her appearance.

Height: A bit under-average

Alignment: Chaotic Evil

Appearance

Everyone likes fancy, frilly dresses except for tomboys and too-good-for-an-elf-dress-code elves. Rassia is not one of these people. She likes dresses and wears them over more practical attire, even when it might hamper combat. What she doesn't notice is that these dresses tend to be ripped, sullied or otherwise wrecked, although she constantly brushes herself off as a nervous tic.

Other: In terms of appearance, Rassia is a very forgettable elf. Sure, every mortal "remembers" the multitude of beautiful elves they see, but to most it would be difficult to pick her out in a crowd of elves--except something seems clearly wrong with her. While very generic in terms of looks, Rassia moves in a robotic, distorted manner as though she isn't entirely aware of what "muscular coordination" means. Most everything about her is equally off in its own way--her hair never seems to sit right, her spine is rarely straight, her voice has a very wide range in volume, pitch and tone. This would all set her apart, but the thing that does the most is that she doesn't appear to be aware of how she looks.

Personality

As anyone could guess from the way she acts and appears, Rassia is completely out of touch with her own mind. What this means for those who talk to her: she's probably not going to remember you, your conversation or whose side she's on tomorrow. Though typically petulant, moody and solitary, Rassia is subject to wild mood swings that appear to have no rhyme or reason. She does have the occasional moment of disturbing clarity, to which end some wonder if she's really the lunatic she seems on the outside.

On the streets of Silvermoon, most would avoid Rassia like they would a common beggar. From a distance, it's even difficult to tell her apart from the homeless population (assuming she's not just an extraordinarly odd one herself). If she didn't constantly appear inside inns, restaurants and other paid service establishments, most people would just consider her another one of the mentally- and fiscally-challenged crowd. Also, maybe if she didn't have more than one outfit.

It's interesting to note that, in spite of the lack of social regard and respect for others Rassia seems to hold, she has a very stubborn view on modesty. No matter what may be going through her head, it has nothing to do with exposing herself. And she's managed to keep other core values intact--old friends, though blurred and indistinct, still remain prominent in her mind. There's a good chance that her mentality is faked or at least exaggerated--but when people say that, they may just be in denial.

History

"My child, I must warn you--I am evil. Truly, undoubtedly, absolutely corrupt."

"I don't care. Tell me everything."

Six words can seal one's fate as easily as they did Rassia's. The night she uttered those final, destructive words she let slip her mentality, her voice and person--all for the sake of learning a few parlor tricks. A dark night, though it was technically midday when she said it. Just let me tell the story, folks. Keep a little creative influence in mind, here . . . oh, yes, right, her. It was definitely a dark night and not just two people sitting around in a basement pretending it was night-time so they could have tea time together when it really was night out and no one would notice the--what do you mean I should be starting at the beginning of her history? This is the part where it gets good!

Oh, fine. Have it your way. Rassia was born to a mother named Anya and a father whose name she found out at one point but never cared to remember. She grew up in the theater where her mother worked--say, why don't I just start with Anya's childhood? It would explain a lot . . . no? Alright, then. Her mother was a singer, maybe not a good one or particularly memorable, but she'd done some acting in her days for the enjoyment of Silvermoon--naturally, her kid would've followed in her footsteps, right?

Wrong. Dear little Rassia had absolutely no talent for acting. I can't begin to tell you how much her mother despised her over this little problem--no matter how she tried, Rassia was never a good actress, singer or musician in general. She tried a lot of things, and was eventually resigned to working as a stagehand in the theater as she grew up. But back up--why stay in the theater at a dead-end job? Her mother isn't the greatest person, and in fact was kicked out of work for one too many intoxicated performances.

I don't need to bore you with the dirty details of what Anya actually did or said to the kid, but it was enough to scar someone for life (assuming they'd been living with that same person and relying on her to teach them trust, companionship, security and whatever else good adults have). And, oh boy, was Rassia scarred. You take an emotional husk of an elven being, then pull that apart and rail on it with a broken bottle, scream nasty things at it and not even recognize it by name--give it that to listen to every night and it will really start to crack. In fact, if it doesn't crack, then you're not trying hard enough, or it's already so broken that when it's sitting there crying and whimpering in a corner and screaming to you "Why don't you love me?" then there's a good chance you're just too drunk to remember when it already snapped.

Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait a second. I know what you're thinking--this can't be true; no one would ever treat their child like that! I'm not saying it's true. It's just what I've heard, probably second- or third-hand because no one in their right mind would go near that chick. And I do mean /no one./ So don't hold me to it, alright? It's probably an exaggeration. I don't really know. Stop looking at me.

Well, then the Scourge came and screwed up everything. I bet you Rassia was happy to see the place she grew up in destroyed. Maybe it was some sort of sick, sick freedom for her--how she survived, exactly, I don't know. Probably ran away like the coward she was back then. All she ever knew was how to run, all she ever did was run--funny, considering she never could run to save her life. I hear it was some other guy who saved her life, the same guy that was willing to teach her everything that turned her from a shattered husk to . . . well, a shattered, megalomaniac husk with an appetite for anarchy and more raw, volatile power than one should ever have in their lifetime.

He gave her a name that she didn't care to remember, but pulled her up and off her feet--got her clothed, fed, listened to. She grew attached to the man over time, and who wouldn't? She regarded him as her savior, the one who had delivered her from sin('dorei that hated her). She would give anything for him, and so when he suggested that she follow in his footsteps she gladly agreed. This is the good part that I tried to tell you about earlier . . . like I said, you should've listened. Midday, some basement, they were listening to each other, chatting and sharing stories--then he mentioned that he was evil.

Big whoop. She wanted to learn. His words were her dogma; everything she ever wanted to know would come forth from his mouth. Without thinking, she agreed to his prospect and signed herself away eagerly. She was a good student, far more skilled with the dark arts than she ever was with acting, voice or manual labor--she had the brain to understand the concepts and a soul so broken it never knew what love was in the first place. She had no feeling of trust, nothing to lose--and yet, somehow, she still lost something.

Not only was Rassia a skilled student, she was moving at a pace far too quick for her body to support. Her self-destructive magic riddled her mind and soul with bullet holes that only grew and grew until they were huge gashes and then ripped her apart entirely--oh, she was fine, on the outside. Just fine. But she was mentally unstable. Not crazy. I swear, she's not crazy--still isn't. She's got some sanity and compassion left, somewhere in there. She's not a total monster.

She's just . . . interesting. I can't really tell you what happened to that guy. I think that, once she was far enough that she'd be able to hold a candle to his inferno, she ditched him. There is some strange tendency for people like that to betray their masters, you know? I hear some guy was involved, probably a lover that never really liked the other guy to start with--he took her back to Silvermoon, yeah, that's why she's there now. But she didn't like him from the start, just used him to get away, and now she's all alone. Who knows who she'll latch onto next?

It could be you, mate. It could be you.