Character Profiles

[Ulthanon]

Full Name: Ulthanon Kaidos
Race: Kal'dorei
Homeland: Zin-Azshari
Age: Unspecified; generally accepted to be 10,200 or so
Height: 7'3"
Build: Lean
Hair: White
Eyes: Gold

Philosophy: Those who cannot adapt, cannot survive.

Personality: Ulthanon is, at the core, the preeminent animal. Beyond a jovial, fun-loving appearance he may have today or a quiet, stoic personality he may have had yesterday, Ulthanon does what he must to survive. He has learned that adaptation is his greatest strength and he wields it infinitely better than he could ever wield a bow or a sword. He does not see this as being false or two-faced, rather, he sees it as being as forthcoming as possible; the pack he runs with currently is a bunch of generally heavy-drinking, creatively cursing, both-sides-of-the-law na'er-do-wells... thus, he matches their culture and acts in similar ways. But, before he'd joined the Riders and he was alone, he was quiet, and prone to far more thought than hair-trigger action. He adapted to the change in situation and, by all accounts, has thrived.

Ulthanon knows his place in the grand scheme of things: he is not a political thinker. In terms of raw survivalist thinking, he is quite efficient and effective... but in an arena where one must constantly deal with the interconnecting threads between rival political guilds and factions, binding laws and courts of justice... Ulth doesn't think like that. Becomming an expert on such matters is one of the few things he seemingly can't adapt to individually, so, he got a hold of the smartest, most manipultively effecatious people he could find and joined their guild.

Ulthanon cares little for official laws, but obeys them more often than not simply because not doing so would cause problems for his pack. A pervasive fear of being imprisoned and denied his freedom also keeps him in line and away from the more heinous crimes that he might be more apt to engage in, if the Riders didn't base out of the heart of a major city.

Job: Ulth finds most of his work as a tracker, a scout, and a sharpshooter. He occasionally sells his leatherworking projects, but typically only learns new patterns and techniques so that he won't have to run around naked should he find himself unexpectedly packless.

Hobbies: Ulthanon enjoys beer, mind-altering substances, and (secretly) the finer points of raising and breeding Worpeltinger Rabbits.

Bio: Currently under revision

Currently Resides: At the moment, Ulthanon has a room rented out in A Hero's Welcome in Dalaran. This is for two reasons: It's a central transportation and commerce hub... and it's one of the only warm places in Northrend. Guy doesn't want to unnecessarily freeze his balls off in his sleep, y'dig?

Art:

[Jolstraer]

Full Name: Jolstraer Taborwynn
Race: Human
Homeland: Lordaeron
Age: 50
Height: 6'2"
Build: Built like a siege tank, but louder and more ornery.
Hair: Grey
Eye: One, silvery-blue

Philosophy: There are worse things than death; death is the peace of which the body desrves after a long life. Virtue is in the eye of the beholder; we are all made of what we have endured, and we can only do what is right by ourselves. Our death will balance the books on the life we have lived. Defend anything that means something to you, and defend it with the zeal of your life. Life is not about your victories, but enduring your defeats and still managing to stand back up and take them again. Hold your ground, and if all else fails, sheer strength of will can see you through.

Personality: Jolly is anything but; he is a cantankerous, ornery, stubborn, muley, coarse, heavy-drinking, loud, grumpy, angry old piece of Northern leather. It's a rare occasion in which Jolly is actually happy, and these are brief moments that either involve old stories, fools, debauchery, or dirty jokes. A sergeant in the Lordaeron army for nearly twenty years and a paladin for half of that, he prays on his knees and curses on his feet.Jolly could quite possibly teach the mountains how to be stubborn, and is willing to kill just about anything that needs killing. To Jolly, the Tenements of the Light hold sway...unless there's a better idea to be had at that particular moment.

Job: Cantankerous old cavalryman. Satisfies himself with hammering raw recruits over the head, hammering precious metals into lumps, or hammering his wife. Gets a sadistic glee out of running into large, vicious monsters and pissing them off. Does quite well at outlasting his foes. Also saves kittens in his spare time.

Hobbies: Riding, drinking, telling old stories. Mending armor, giving last rites to the damned. The usual.

Bio: (In the works...)

Currently Resides: Jolly has always been a mobile person, and has not kept much of his own as personal items. His wife, on the other hand, has apartments for them in the A Hero's Welcome in Dalaran for them to return to between assignments in Northrend.

Art:

[Delion]

Full Name: Delion Oreweave
Race: Kal'dorei
Homeland: Outskirts of Hyjal / Inner-city Darnassus
Age: 3027
Height: 7'
Build: Thin, unfit
Hair: Very long, pure white
Eyes: Average for a kal'dorei

Philosophy: Polite and proper in all things.

Personality: Equal parts prim and proper, Delion is ever rubbing elbows with the higher nobility of Stormwind and emulating them whenever he can. (Will expand later)

Job: Tailor and owner of The Finest Thread in Stormwind's Canal District.

Hobbies: Embroidery, Calligraphy

Bio: Delion was born of a tanner father and a tailor mother, and into quite possibly the lowest regarded family in Hyjal - hard workers, good people, but nevertheless very low on the social ladder. While not mattering nearly so much in comparison to Stormwind's social classes, it still gave him the drive to aim for something higher.
Delion spent all his years learning his mother's trade, and most certainly not his father's - his father was really more dyer than tanner, the colour that stained him all over changing every other week. There was no way his mother was going to let their silver-skinned, moon-haired son do anything that might mar his prettiness, especially when she and her partner were so plain.
Delion very much enjoyed being a tailor, and was very good at it. Unfortunately, eventually, a war came - The Shifting Sands, a thousand years ago. Resources were sent to help, and Delion was sent to the desert to deliver a large load of cloth bandages. Needing every person in the effort, he wasn't allowed to leave, and was put to work in the chaos of actually applying the bandages he delivered. It was the most frightening thing he had ever done. The next weeks were full of fear and other people's blood, and in his inexperience likely made many mistakes. But it was there that a few of the proper healers took note that he had some little talent in the same field as they had, and by the end of the war (with some instruction, of course) he was weilding a healthy dose of Elune's power.
While during a war every helping hand is welcome, outside of it taboos are back in place - Delion went back to being nothing but a tailor, because a man practicing the gifts of Elune was Not Allowed.
His father for whatever reason had steadily been growing more and more ill, and it was shortly after the war that he finally died after a long, horrid time of clinging to life. It was not a pretty death. Delion has suspected the dyes he was around so often to have something to do with it, especially after seeing the same effects in humans of the same trade.
His mother, too, died shortly after. Its politely said that she "passed away of grief", though it was suicide. Delion rarely even thinks of either of them any more, as over 900 years have passed since then.
He continued tailoring. Nothing much else happened. There was Hyjal, of course, but really Delion's life is incredibly simple and plain. Eventually he moved to Stormwind, and with a business loan from the Riders managed to buy a little shop of his own. He's now one of the main fashionistas in the city. He has had one relationship in his entire life, lasting for a year or two with Shaila Viridiant. He now, on occasion, using the Light's healing that seems to come a little more naturally, makes sure the ruffians in the Riders and Co. don't die or get an arm lopped off.

He also killed a woman three years ago. With the help of a seer by the name of Ilarra, he was able to uncover the details of those memories - it was most certainly self defense!


Currently Resides: Stormwind

Art: (Updating later)

[Shaila]

Full Name: Akeelah Grimdark (Surname self-given)
Race: Draenei
Homeland: Argus
Age: 21,011
Height: 6'9''
Build: Light
Hair: White
Eyes: Glowing blue

Philosophy: The most important things in life are your own happiness and power. If you don't have power you're not really free, and if you don't know how to keep yourself happy you don't know how to properly use that power. And for the love of god stay beautiful. The only thing worshiped more than a powerful person is a powerful and beautiful person. Just look at Elune.

Personality: Selfish, conceited and not very wise, Akeelah is what happens when someone of an exceptionally long lived race makes all the most self-centered choices in life. Being undead has only muddled up that personality, causing her to truly have a hard time distinguishing between what is good and what is bad. She no longer has any sense of difference between giving a sad child a toy and turning that same child undead. These days most of her choices involving morality come down to looking at a checklist she has written based on conversations with Chelody Smallwing. Taking candy from a baby is, however, still one of the worst crimes imaginable to her.

Job: Being beautiful

Hobbies: Staying beautiful, finding things for her ghouls to do, trying on clothes.

Bio: An argus born draenei, Akeelah is older than one would at first guess. She always showed interest in why her father betrayed their race along with the majority of the other eredar, showing more interest than disgust at the subject. Rahna always suspected Akeelah guessed more of the truth of Boreaul's thought process than what she was told, and half suspected her to start worshiping demons at any time. That never came though, Akeelah's interest staying in more mundane subjects of fashion and boys, though she did show some aptitude in arcane magic, much like her father.
Akeelah spent much of their time on Draenor in the cities of their people, not being fond of traveling outside and possibly encountering ogres or the savage but peaceful orcs. The few times she did travel outside was to make contact with the reclusive and mysterious arrakoa, often bringing back exotic perfumes and silks
When the orcs carried out their war and near genocide on the draenei, Akeelah was devastated. She, however, soon saw the state of her race. A number of them were mutated, and many lost hope. She drew herself up, told herself to stop being pathetic, and continued what mattered. Fashion and doing boys. Though her intentioned uplifting message was lost to her condescending attitude, she continued as normal, the only difference being a renewed effort in practicing arcane magics. It was when she heard of Azeroth and how the orcs came there that she came to what would become her true goal in life. Gaining the power of a Guardian.

To be continued...

Currently Resides: Dalaran, above Crystalsong Forest in Northrend.

Art:

[Arrens]

Full Name: Arrens Caltrains
Race: Human
Homeland: Dalaran, pre-Northrend
Age: 33
Height: 6'4"
Build: Muscular, but often hidden beneath his usual flowing robes
Hair: Blondish brown with a long ponytail.
Eyes: Brown

Philosophy: A stout believer in education being a crucial element to facing one's foes, both tangible and otherwise, there is little he won't turn to books for if a question pops up, even for something as mundane as an idiom he does not understand.

Personality: Arrens is booksmart. He can spout scientific facts at the drop of a hat and quote famous lines from some of Azeroth's greatest literary works. But if it wasn't in a book that would be found in the upper-crust's libraries, his naivity shines through. When it does, he has a tendency to stutter.

Job: Headmaster of Stormwind University and a professor of Demonology.

Hobbies: Herbalism and reading.

Bio: Arrens was born into a wealthy family of mages in Dalaran with no small amount of political clout. At a young age, he displayed his intelligence and quickly advanced within the ranks of Dalaran's mages. Engaged to be married to Sarah Dowry, his life was a relatively easy one spent perfecting the arcane arts and living a quiet life with loving parents and his fiancee. When Arthas marched on Dalaran and the Burning Legion followed, he was witness to his parents and Sarah dying beneath the force of an Infernal that came crashing down. He managed to use his last remaining strength to open a portal to Ironforge for safety, an act he still considers cowardly to this day, even if the intellectual part of him insists it was his only means of survival.

While in Ironforge, Arrens met a most interesting Gnome named Briarthorn. The two quicly developed a strong bond with Briarthorn mentoring Arrens on the finer aspects of demonic strength and weaknesses. Over the course of time, Arrens learned all that his mentor had to teach and became a warlock of his own right, abandoning his arcane ties to magic in favor of the shadowy aspects of the Nether.

Today, he is the latest Headmaster of Stormwind University where he continues his studies as well as teaches others to prepare them for battles they will no doubt one day face.

Currently Resides: Stormwind City, Mage District

Art: (None)

[Bellesta]

Full Name: Adel Merianna Ashawe

Race: Human

Homeland: Darrowshire

Age: 29

Height: 5'3"

Build: Curvy and buxom, could be described as a classical 'roman' beauty in build. Wide hips and waist, healthy amount of body fat. Some upper body muscle, mostly in arms. Very battered hands.

Hair: Naturally black, shoulder length or longer. Dyed most commonly red. Parted in middle, otherwise unremarkable.

Eyes: Blue

Philosophy: Wings built by science, lifted by faith.

Personality: Adel tries to maintain an easygoing smile in all things, but often falls short when faced by the many problems of day to day life. She strives to remain 'good' in all her actions, to the point of justifying that which should not be justified. She approaches almost everything like a scientific analysis, even the Light. She has a loyalty streak a mile wide, and will often turn a blind eye or let those she's loyal to walk all over her.

Job: Currently owns an engineering firm, though too busy with the Crusade to work with it.

Hobbies: Engineering is an escape for her, more than a hobby. She is always tinkering with something. She has an obsession with flight and birds, and continually fails to create a truly clockwork bird capable of sustained flight. She builds a lot of flying machines.

Bio: Adel was born, the middle child of three sisters,in Darrowshire. She grew up admiring her Priestess mother and all she represented. Close to her sisters, she would get into trouble around the farms, with the other kids, and in what learning she had. She grew very close to a boy named Pauric, who was the same age as her. At 14 she decided to chase her dream of becoming a priestess. She was accepted by the Bishop who had known (and loved) her mother, who went by the name of Samuel Shadowguard. She and Pauric promised to marry when she returned, with the blessing of both parents.

Stormwind was very new to Adel, and she spent most of her time in the church. She showed great talent in the healing arts, and made Samuel very proud. She became very good friends with another rising star in the ranks, a paladin named Dravir. She told Dravir stories of her home in Darrowshire, and he returned them with grand tales of his family line.

When she was around 18, she asked for leave to go north and bring her younger sister (who was 14 at the time) to Stormwind to start her own training. Samuel denied her the leave for reasons he wouldn't state. Adel was angry, but didn't raise a fuss. Not too long after, word reached Stormwind that the North was falling. Darrowshire went down brutally, and there were no known survivors. Adel's family and fiance were dead.

Adel reacted badly, flying into a rage at Samuel for not letting her go and retrieve her sister. Dravir attempted to calm her, and she broke his nose. They didn't speak for two years.

Adel's progress with healing dropped off. She shut herself off from the world and began take her hobby of toymaking to the next level- engineering. She used her new hobby as a way to distract herself from reality. The further she got away from her roots, the more and more the shadow crept in. She lost her ability to channel healing, and ended up at odds with Samuel due to his distaste for Shadow magic.

In an effort to put her back on track, Samuel took her training to the field and assigned her a bodyguard/babysitter. Dravir. Dravir and she managed to patch things up to a workable level, but it still took several years assigned to one another to rebuild what had been lost. Nonetheless, her healing abilities never came back.

Currently Resides: Stormwind, in Dravir's apartment.

Art: Will post later.

[Duugvilder]

Full Name: Technically, It's simply Duugvilder. Recently, he took "Demonbane" as his last name.
Race: Gnome
Homeland: A tiny village in Dun Morogh you never heard of and would probably not notice if you blinked while passing through.
Age: The younger side of Gnome adulthood. Old enough to be considered a man, but not so old to have people wondering if and when he's going to wed.
Height: Slightly over 3' tall.
Build: Medium.
Hair: Thick and naturally brown. Duugvilder also keeps a very stylish mustache and beard to hide his relative youth. The green hair was an immature attempt to seem worldly, an attempt he has since dropped.
Eyes: Bright blue.

Philosophy: It is possible to live your dreams if you truly desire to do so. The most important thing is friends and loyalty to those friends. Everyone has a responsibility to use his/her skills and abilities to protect and defend against those who would harm us all.

Personality: Duugvilder wears his heart on his sleeve. He is not a worldly Gnome. He's more than a little naive. Every day for him is a joyful one, to be celebrated alone or with his friends. He accepts people without judgment. If he calls you "Friend," it is the highest compliment he can think to give you. He has a tendency to give himself titles based on whatever he is doing at the time ("Duugvilder the Learned," if he's just finished a book, for example). Someday, perhaps one will stick. Even better, someday he'll earn an official title.

Job: A "professional adventurer," Duugvilder supports himself with his alchemy and by selling things in auction.

Hobbies: When he's not adventuring for fun and profit, Duugvilder enjoys what he calls his "alchemical research." He takes pride in being a Master of Transmutation. He has gathered quite a collection of pets, and he cherishes every one of them. In his few spare moments, he enjoys reading about the history of this great new world he has discovered and the heroes within. He has developed, through trial and (mostly) error, an appreciation for fine tobacco and spirits.

Bio: Duugvilder was born in village so small that its inhabitants never had a need for last names. If not for a quirky twist of fate, Duugvilder's life would have consisted of either farming like his parents or (if the education was available) becoming his village's healer/alchemist, marrying whatever village lass an arranged marriage would allow, having many kids and grandkids, and growing old. Somehow - call it luck or fate - his affinity for what herbs would make what potions to heal what ailments caught the eye of the village's resident healer/alchemist, who took Duugvilder under his wing and continued his education. Along the way, this elder Gnome told Duugvilder tales of his own youth and adventures, eventually revealing his skills as a mage. After a long period of begging and pleading, Duugvilder convinced his mentor to pass along those skills. Then, armed with "formidable" skills in the magical arts, proficient in the lessons of alchemy, herbalism, and first aid, and drunk of tales of valor and heroism, Duugvilder left his village in hopes of following the path of his mentor.

This should have proven to be a HUGE mistake. Realizing that his skills in magecraft weren't as "formidable" as previously thought, alone and scared, Duugvilder should have rushed back to his village to accept his mundane future. However, luck or fate intervened in the form of a Night Elf named Grizelle (whom Duugvilder would also come to know as Indarra, his First Friend), who came across the Gnome and (for whatever reasons) took pity on him. Indarra helped him on his journey, giving him tips to survive and succeed in the world he was about to enter, eventually bringing him safely to Stormwind City.

For the first day of his stay in Stormwind, Duugvilder's lower jaw hung uselessly. To call what he experienced "culture shock" would be gross understatement. He was dazzled by the size of it all, by the seemingly countless different inhabitants, by the sights and smells and experiences. Duugvilder, for the first time in his life, was in love. He swore a silent oath to his new mistress, who accepted his loyalty and fidelity by granting him a loose cobblestone to trip over. This trinket would be his first souvenir, one he carries with him wherever he goes. He eventually found lodging, training in the Mage Quarter, and made countless new friends. He swore to defend his beloved city and its people from all threats, whether they be the Horde menace or something as simple as a pack of wolves threatening a village. This oath has been expanded to all of Azeroth and Outland.

Recently he achieved another one of his dreams. Not long ago, Duuvilder watched as Friend Arrens destroyed a succubus that had been menacing the Bittertongue family. The knowledge that dear friends had been threatened was so upsetting that he spent a week in Hellfire Peninsula, hunting and destroying all demons he came across, declaring "This is what you abominations get for threatening the friends of Duugvilder Demonbane!!!" as he struck the killing blow upon what were most likely very confused demons. Realizing that "Demonbane" was just as good a last name as anything else, and encouraged by the flattered reaction of Threnn Bittertongue, Duugvilder has adopted the name as his own in honor of his Friends.

Currently Resides: Although he would prefer to stay in or around Stormwind City, his alchemical research and adventuring has him based in Dalaran. Threnn Bittertongue has offered to help him find a home near his beloved city. The idea of having a place for all his pets close to the city he loves represents another dream fulfilled.

Art: Coming soon...

[Mugrir]

Full Name: Mugrir Runehammer
Race: Dwarf
Homeland: None.
Age: About 43, by anyone's guess.
Height: Dwarf.
Build: Dwarf.
Hair: Fiery Red.
Eyes: Green

Philosophy: "Lots o' bad in th' world, and someone needs te stop it. Might as well be me."

Personality: He's as stubborn as the stone and won't let anything get in the way of what he thinks must be done. The worn bags and rings under his eyes speak towards the weight he constantly hoists on his own shoulders. Just as important is his unfailing ability to simply not die.

Job: Anything he can find which makes more undead, demons, or crazed cults dead. He's been known for leading squads of mercenaries and freelancers into near suicidal situations for differing organizations. The organizations greet these offers with enthusiasm, as while they have to normally pay for such risks, Mugs is known to do them for free.

Hobbies: Anything he can find which makes more undead, demons, or crazed cults dead. If he feels like not sleeping for a while, he'll either spend a night up studying runes and salvaged titan artifacts, attempting to organize forays and assaults on the bad guys, pounding a few drinks back in a bar, or doing his best to be romantic to his new wife, Sio.

Bio: Mugrir is a dwarf determined to play the tragic hero. The last of his clan, the Runehammers were exiled from the Wildhammer's Aerie peak while he was still in the womb. By ten, it was only him and his father alive, wandering the peaks as silent guardians for travelers, never once setting foot in cities or towns. They didn't stop when the orcs came, nor when the humans fled south through their vigil from the undead hordes. Only when the Day of Chaos happened, did their hunting cease - Mugrir watched as his father was slain fighting infernals in their last stand atop the mountains.

Five years later, Mugrir broke the vows his father had kept stoicly, and walked into the small town of Kharanos. There, he met Fenria, met other dwarves, and was heralded as a crackshot, reckless and brave. He spent all his earnings on drink and meeting with other 'adventurers', not tied down to anything but their own fortune and struggles. Ten dwarves shooting their mouth off and comparing deeds suddenly became more than just ten dwarves, and the Boomstick Gang was sworn in over a pub crawl across Ironforge, with cheers and large flagons. They would fight for what needed to be fought for, a little fame and a little cash, and most importantly, have others they could rely on. Perhaps foolishly, someone gave Mugrir the reins. The band of dwarves pooled together their clout, favors and money to buy a tavern as a 'base of operations', and began their infamy of having a raucous pub and bizarrely talented shortfolk. Any challenge was a good one, and their numbers grew even as they mapped Azeroth, tinkered with buzzboxes, fought valiantly for Southshore and found themselves in a harrowing place every other week.

Its been five years since that time. For all he knows, Mugrir is the only surviving founder of the Boomsticks, although his title of Boss long given away. His recklessness nearly cost him his life, then sanity in a demonic run-in out in Desolace, the blood a curse in his veins for years. He found comfort and redemption from his own curse in the studying of the runes of Uldaman, and now wields a bit more than just a rifle. Yet, he's watched as entire legions of friends and rival guilds fall dead, go mad, or lost the zeal he once looked up to. He still wants to hunt down the butcher who took the joyful spirit out of the Boomsticks with the stab of a knife. He still wants a resolution and answers to why the man he trusted with Fenria's funeral fell so far. He considers every fallen Boomstick to be a fault eventually pinned on him. He has matured and learned much in the last five years - even so much as to let himself have a vice in a full night's drinking, or to try and find a little peace in talking around a large wooden table.

Mugrir is a dwarf with many personal demons, whether ones he eventually plans to find and kill, or ones he will take to his grave. Regardless, he plans on making the world a little more peaceful like as long as he can, and will take as many bastards to his own grave as he can.

Currently Resides: When in town, Stormwind's Boomstick Pub.

Art: Wishful Thinking!

[Kestil]

Full Name: Kestil Ravenoak
Race: Kaldorei
Homeland: Born and raised in Nighthaven.
Age: Approx. 947 years old.
Height: 6'6"
Build: Muscular -- the body of an elf who has been training for combat since she could grasp a bow.
Hair: Moss-green, hangs loose down to her waist with small braids strewn throughout. Usually gathered in a tight braid under her hood if she needs it out of her way.
Eyes: Dark silver with flecks of gold.
Distinguishing Characteristics: Her labret and left nostril are pierced with bone studs, capped with blue stones.

Philosophy: Nature is easier to understand than elves, or humans, or dwarves, and broken bows are easier to replace than broken relationships.

"The Emerald Dream brings nothing but heartache. It is a mistress with which I cannot compete." --Kestil, after a former lover chose to dream than to be with her, and learned that her mother suffered the same with her father.

Personality: At a first meeting, Kestil treats the encounter with a business-like formality in order to gauge the implied social ladder. However, she is loyal to those she consider friends, and helpful to acquaintances in need of assistance.

Job: Sentinel, archer division, mobile unit.

Hobbies: She's currently studying the art of enchanting at Stormwind University, but it's not necessarily a 'hobby', per se. Ever the child of nature, she loves exploring new areas, running barefoot through the dirt and trees and rivers and sand.

Bio: Her father killed at the Gates of Ahn'Qiraj, Kestil was raised by a single mother in the town of Nighthaven. Although her father's mentors wished her to take his place as a dreamer in the Stormrage Barrow Dens, her mother refused their wishes and had her trained in the ways of the huntress, the Sentinel.

For centuries she trained in the Kaldorei militant ways, but her lack of and inability to find an animal companion deemed her unsuitable to be brought into the ranks of a Huntress. She entered the mobile Archer division instead, choosing to focus instead on her skill with a bow and traveling outside of night elf lands.

A few years ago, she prayed to Elune for guidance and was directed to a Timbermaw shaman who gave her a dream elixir. In that dream she encountered Myrra, and instantly she set travel to Quel'thalas to find the red lynx which had beckoned to her in sleep.

Currently Resides: Taverns and inns, wherever she may find rest for the night.

Art: See here (some items NSFW): viewtopic.php?f=21&t=868

[Roullette]

Full Name: Roullette Bernice Stairali
Race: Human, Southerner
Homeland: Original Birthplace is Dalaran, but mostly grew up in Westfall.
Age: 18(Birthday is March 20th)
Height: 5'6"
Build: Curved, but solid.
Hair: Long, red, and ragged.
Eyes: Violet

Philosophy: Whatever day it may be, one must live it to their fullest. Throw caution to the wind, and you just might find you never needed it in the first place.

Personality: Fun, playful, and flirty. Doesn't like to start or be in fights that aren't for her, or her friends' lives. Tends to be a binge drinker.

Job: Farmer, Blacksmith, Waittress.

Hobbies: Climbing Trees, Riding Horses, and growing a small Bonsai Garden in her room.

Bio: Roullette was born to Ann-Marie and Christopher Stairali, Mages by trade and farmers by origin. Having been found to be skilled wielders of the arcane at a young age, they moved to Dalaran and were wed, eventually bearing Roullette two years afterward.

As Roullette grew, her marks in the classes her parents enrolled her in were consistently horrible. Eventually, even her parents had to agree with her teachers: Roullette was not meant to be a Mage. It was rare for a Mage's child to be completely magically inept, but it did happen.

So as to not traumatize Roullette further from her classmates' insults and taunts, they would send her to live with her grandparents, Eli(A veteran of the first war) and Donna Riell. Their other daughter(as it was from her Mother's side) is Tabetha Riell, better known as Scout Riell, in The People's Militia.

Growing up, Roullette would learn how to plow a field, feed and take care of farm animals, take care of small pest infestations and fight fires. When the Defias took over much of the Western Farms, her family would send her to Stormwind. Only a year after the discovery and scandal of Lady Prestor, her Grandparents would both die, within three months of each other. With The People's Militia having started in Westfall, Roullette wished to join them under her Aunt's tutelage, but was refused because of her age(15 at the time).

Since, she has lived in the only apartment her Aunt could afford for her, a small, easily forgotten room above a home in Old Town. The Lewis Family(also of the Militia) lived below and wasn't wealthy either, but they were kind and often would share dinners with her, in her last two years.

When Roullette was first sent to Stormwind, her Grandfather had sponsored her in getting training from an old friend of his, another Veteran of the First War, Michael Dylan, at the Stormwind Academy. Being little more than the military training grounds, Roullette would learn how to defend herself well and fight strongly. However, by the time she was through with her training, the Defias would largely be finished in Westfall, and The People's Militia was moving on to Northrend in the push against Arthas.

Now, Roullette strives to join them again, and find her way in this world.

Currently Resides: In a ratty old attic in Stormwind City. Second house on your right coming out of the south-western entrance of Old Town. To the right of the one with the pillars.