Zaria

Information

Player: JosieNoelle

Character Full Name: Seraphus Windcraft

Character In-Game Name: Zaria

Nickname(s): Daisy (As dubbed by Crowson during their first meeting)

Association(s): None - Though she is conceiving of erecting a refuge fellowship for former slaves.

Race: Blood Elf

Class: Rogue

Age: 150

Sex: Female

Hair: Originally blue-black.

Eyes: Green

Weight: 135 lbs

Height: 5' 10"

Appearance

Under no circumstances does Zaria don a pair of pants. She considers such garb unfeminine and inconvenient - Especially since it does not allow her places to hide her assorted small weapons or trinkets. Typically, she is wearing a flowing robe artfully fitted to her frame to better enhance her practiced stride. Zaria chooses bold colors and dramatic necklines as a rule.

Personality

Zaria has positioned herself in such a way that she feeds off of the insecurities of others. She is adept at probing individuals until she finds their Achilles Heel and promptly stomps on it. There is a saucy and flippant way about her that has proven to be both an attractant and deterrent. Those who interact with her are hardly neutral. She is flirtatious toward men, utilizing her charm and swagger to keep them on her side as friends, but often buffets any serious attention as a measure of defense. It is her assumption that her feminine wiles, not her mind, are what keep eyes on her. As time has developed, she has found the predictability of that nearly comforting as it does not cause her to put any real emotion on the line. Zaria is not incapable of real feeling nor does she see it as a weakness, per se, but she is hesitant to trust due to her status as a former indentured slave. This fact is a closely guarded secret that she reveals to other men and women in a similar predicament and only if she is sure they have a measure of competency, potential, or intelligence.

As a footnote to her quirks, Zaria despises masks viewing them as silly ways in which people attempt to appear ominous or strong. She has no respect for personal space and on several occasions simply walked up to an offender to yank the fabric right off of their face. With few exceptions, she does not engage in conversation for long with anyone wearing a facial covering. This is born out of several psychological issues - The key of which is her need to feel in control, be able to memorize facial features, and remove the figurative masks others hide behind. Of course, Zaria is the chief of all sinners in this regard, keeping herself under tight lock and key.

History

Zaria's conception was under absolute duress - the product of two individuals whose shady dealings caused them to have debts beyond their ability to repay. Rather than receive the pointed end of their Trolline loaner's spear, they struck up a deal for him to take possession of their offspring as an indentured servant. The novelty of owning his own High Elf caused Sambut, who was not the brightest of trolls, to relinquish the Windcrafts from his attentions as he awaited his prized slave. Upon her arrival, Seraphus was renamed 'Zaria' and promptly smuggled off to a subterranean settlement in the Hinterlands. She was raised in the brash, violent culture, suffering scourges from her taskmaster. Understanding from a young age that her physical appearance and needs were at complete odds with the barbarian culture she was plunged into, Zaria found adjustments difficult to make and her resentment grew.

While she did use the time to try to mentally escape from her oppressors, Zaria would also gradually plot the demise of her owner. The dawning of a new and ferocious era came with the death of Sambut at the golden age of seventy four. His son, Zukthor, took control of the High Elf, refusing to relinquish her biological parents' debt in the death of her 'rightful' owner. His cruelty was unmatched by any experience she had dragged herself through, the scourges and branding irreparable.

Finally, a day came in which she saw a fantastic opportunity. Leading a night hunting expedition, Zukthor left his Elf to the care of an elderly Voodoo practitioner. This largely demented troll took advantage of the help and ordered Zaria about her space to retrieve various pinches of volatile plants and herbs. As the Troll focused on her brews, Zaria pocketed small amounts of the harsh ingredients on her person. A quick glimpse at the open pages of a practitioner's book in her cave gave Zaria hurried instruction on how to concoct a fatal potent.

Zukthor's return was celebrated as his company had successfully brought enough of Ashenvale's over-abundance of creatures to feed the tribe well. After a quick smack across the face of the High Elf, he ordered her to begin preparing the meat for his beloved stew recipe. She did so with gratitude, ensuring that his brew was 'well-seasoned.' With strong drinks being served and tiring celebration came a point in which many of the tribe were too exhausted to do much more than find their leaf pallets and rest. Zukthor demanded his meal and emptied a bowl down his throat, his vengeful eyes narrowed upon his servant. She stood there demurely and watched the succession of events as his lips parted with labored breath. Not a muscle in her face moved as his pupils dilated and terror settled into the grimace on his mouth. Zaria frisked through his crates to find any small items worth selling and slipped them into the pockets of her robe. When he finally was nothing more than a crumpled mass, she focused her energy on finding long shadows to fit her body into, the natural light-footed stealth of her race working to her benefit. With careful footfalls, she snuck over and around the drunkards until she came to the mouth of their den. Snatching up a lit torch staked into the wall, she plunged out into the night. Through building enough connections, Zaria was able to beg, borrow, and steal her way back to her lands.

Culture shock settled in when she finally encountered her people, but Zaria was not above learning quickly how to put away the brash habits of her previous upbringing. Through hard work and dedication, she trained herself in how to adopt pristine mannerisms, wield her sensuality, and gain the gift of gab. Given to survivalist mentality, she monopolized conversation, pinched at the idiosyncrasies of others, and made sure she remained on top at all times. Shady dealings came naturally for her as she understood that it was through hook and crook that her life was spared and her freedom gained.

Life, however, dramatically changed with the succession of events leading upward to the Second War. Solidifying her place in the Elven community, Zaria enlisted with a special tactics squad made of ruthless magic-wielders and non-traditional weapons masters. It was through their tutelage and support that she gained an adept ability to utilize short-blades and shed blood for a greater cause. Joining forces with the Alliance for a season, she found it fascinating to learn to mimic cultures she had not had the pleasure of interacting with prior to her freedom. Her palette for language and colloquialisms was largely expanded and she floated in and out of the humanoid groups fostering connections which she errantly thought would last an Elven lifetime. That was, of course, until the Fall of Quel'thalas and corrupting of the beloved Sunwell. Having been able to employ her less than honorable roots, Zaria barely managed an escape from Arthas' companies to suffer magic withdrawals in the Outlands with a group of High Elves under the leadership of Kael'thas. Following suit, she was instructed in how to absorb Fel, her body undergoing changes with the dawning of her glowing emerald stare - A foreign and unforgiving imposition which led her and her fellow Sin'dorei to turn toward the corrupted Horde for assistance and allies. Understanding the plight of the orcs and the damning of the Wretched, Zaria choked demon blood down her throat twice a week to satiate her thirsts. It was a makeshift method, but managed to carry her and her dearest friends for the next several years until the purification of the Sunwell obliterated her magical addictions.

Her direction in life is becoming more refined as she plots to gather a fellowship of former (or current) slaves together for the purposes of retribution. Her mean-streak where it concerns authority figures is pronounced and it is her greatest desire to re-enact her story of 'triumph through force' for the good of others in a similar predicament. Lawfulness is not what binds her, but she does possess a somewhat skewed moral code. Zaria recognizes herself as an agent of a darker lifestyle and is usually stand-offish from any who possess Light, saintliness, or an abundance of innocence. She views herself as a pollutant and them as an unwelcome reminder that her inability to be righteous in the traditional sense is somewhat of a destiny.

Skills and Abilities

Zaria is the mistress of all things underhanded. For the sake of survival alone, she has developed a small kit which she keeps concealed on her person at all times. Among the trappings is a small metal ear horn which she extracts when the need arises for eavesdropping. She is adept at blending into a crowd if necessary, changes her hair style/color, and clothing quite often to fool adversaries or stalkers, and has a strong gift for gab. Among her skills is a charismatic and charming disposition with a golden tongue leading her into crafting webs of conversation that are often cryptic or misleading. While she has been known to carry a set of daggers strapped to her thighs with thick leather, she does not often wield them, leaving her prowess largely unknown - Which is how she prefers it.