Post by cristauce on Apr 28, 2006 21:47:16 GMT -5
Well, here it is... my life story. I hope this may give you all, my brothers, sisters, lords and ladies, a better idea of where I come from.
I was born in the old city of Stratholm to a very wealthy family. My Father was on King Terenas's counsil in Lordaeron and my mother was a nurse for the Barracks there. I was the youngest out of three children with two older sisters that were the talk of the town when we were older. My uncle was a horse breeder for the King's army and my family mostly lived in his estate.
The early years of my life were spent around the stables, in the hills above Stratholm and standing up for my sisters... eventhough when i was younger I didn't really have much to back up some of the things I said and that normally resulted in coming home covered in mud with somthing sprained or broken. That cycle would continue until I was 14.
It was nearing the end of the second war and I had returned to my uncle's house from an abby just a few hours journy outside of town to hear that my uncle had been killed in a skrimish outside Lordaeron. As if that wasn't bad enough, - I - was forced to take over as the man of the house, since my Father was not allowed to take leave until AFTER the war was over, and assume the role of taking care of my two older sisters whilest looking after the horse breeding. This continued well after the war. By the time the rumours of the Plague came about I was an established young man wth two beautiful sisters, a father on the King's counsil, a beautiful home... things were looking bright, until that fateful day which I will never forget...He came.
Arthas came with his "righteous crusade" and reduced Stratholm to ruin. I awoke in my bedchamber to the warcries of the soldiers and the massive demon (Sargaras) fighting in the city and quickly assembled everyone in my house to flee. In the end, it was only my oldest sister and I who ended up escaping Arthas's wrath. We rode all the way to Lordaeron to see our Father. There, my father instructed me to journy to New Stormwind to finish my studies with the church. At first I refused and told him that I would take up a sword and shield and fight... but I eventually gave in, left my sister in the care of our father, and rode out of Lordaeron... that was the last I ever saw, or heard from my beautful sister and noble father.
My journy was frought with enemies.... from renegade Horde, bandits, and the wildlife... but most horrifying of all was the living dead. Oh how I feared them... the first I encountered them I was riding through silverpine when somthing knocked me off my horse. I drew my sword and found that there were three men taunting and harassing my horse like a band of starved rotweilers. I went to charge towards them but somthing made me stop... there was somthing about the way they moved, the way they acted, the way they looked at me after killing my horse and eating their fill... I suddenly felt myself running away from them as fast as my legs would carry me with their cries of agony screeching all around me. It was raining and pitch black. the only means of ilumination were the reflection of the moonlight on the stone path, the light flicker of the road lanterns and the occaisional flash of lightning. I started to zone out, although my body was still sprinting from the three, maybe four now, screeching horrors behind me, things like pain and fatigue seemed to vanish and all I could see before me were lanterns flying past me and a back void constantly feeding me a path of stones. The next thing I know I was lying face down in the mud looking up a dirt path to the town of southshore with the dawn painted accross the sky. I'm still not sure to this day how I managed to lose those horrors that were chasing me, or how long I ran but I was thankful I had made it to town and managed to barter my way onto a tradesman ship headed for Westfall.
Three weeks passed and I arrived in Westfall. From there, it was a four day journy to Stormwind. One event led to the next and before I knew it, I was at the Northshire Abby learning the ways of the Paladin with a hate of Arthas and the undead that burns in my chest to this day. When the day came that I was released into the world I met my master, Draconah, who was a paladin in Lordaeron and served next to Uther. Since then I have been performing my duties with the Curch and reciving instruction from my master. That should bring me to where I am now, moving into the house of Virtue... though I still need to find a room *laughs*
I look foward to working with you all, and I do hope that I may bring honor and glory to the house, and to the Defenders.
I was born in the old city of Stratholm to a very wealthy family. My Father was on King Terenas's counsil in Lordaeron and my mother was a nurse for the Barracks there. I was the youngest out of three children with two older sisters that were the talk of the town when we were older. My uncle was a horse breeder for the King's army and my family mostly lived in his estate.
The early years of my life were spent around the stables, in the hills above Stratholm and standing up for my sisters... eventhough when i was younger I didn't really have much to back up some of the things I said and that normally resulted in coming home covered in mud with somthing sprained or broken. That cycle would continue until I was 14.
It was nearing the end of the second war and I had returned to my uncle's house from an abby just a few hours journy outside of town to hear that my uncle had been killed in a skrimish outside Lordaeron. As if that wasn't bad enough, - I - was forced to take over as the man of the house, since my Father was not allowed to take leave until AFTER the war was over, and assume the role of taking care of my two older sisters whilest looking after the horse breeding. This continued well after the war. By the time the rumours of the Plague came about I was an established young man wth two beautiful sisters, a father on the King's counsil, a beautiful home... things were looking bright, until that fateful day which I will never forget...He came.
Arthas came with his "righteous crusade" and reduced Stratholm to ruin. I awoke in my bedchamber to the warcries of the soldiers and the massive demon (Sargaras) fighting in the city and quickly assembled everyone in my house to flee. In the end, it was only my oldest sister and I who ended up escaping Arthas's wrath. We rode all the way to Lordaeron to see our Father. There, my father instructed me to journy to New Stormwind to finish my studies with the church. At first I refused and told him that I would take up a sword and shield and fight... but I eventually gave in, left my sister in the care of our father, and rode out of Lordaeron... that was the last I ever saw, or heard from my beautful sister and noble father.
My journy was frought with enemies.... from renegade Horde, bandits, and the wildlife... but most horrifying of all was the living dead. Oh how I feared them... the first I encountered them I was riding through silverpine when somthing knocked me off my horse. I drew my sword and found that there were three men taunting and harassing my horse like a band of starved rotweilers. I went to charge towards them but somthing made me stop... there was somthing about the way they moved, the way they acted, the way they looked at me after killing my horse and eating their fill... I suddenly felt myself running away from them as fast as my legs would carry me with their cries of agony screeching all around me. It was raining and pitch black. the only means of ilumination were the reflection of the moonlight on the stone path, the light flicker of the road lanterns and the occaisional flash of lightning. I started to zone out, although my body was still sprinting from the three, maybe four now, screeching horrors behind me, things like pain and fatigue seemed to vanish and all I could see before me were lanterns flying past me and a back void constantly feeding me a path of stones. The next thing I know I was lying face down in the mud looking up a dirt path to the town of southshore with the dawn painted accross the sky. I'm still not sure to this day how I managed to lose those horrors that were chasing me, or how long I ran but I was thankful I had made it to town and managed to barter my way onto a tradesman ship headed for Westfall.
Three weeks passed and I arrived in Westfall. From there, it was a four day journy to Stormwind. One event led to the next and before I knew it, I was at the Northshire Abby learning the ways of the Paladin with a hate of Arthas and the undead that burns in my chest to this day. When the day came that I was released into the world I met my master, Draconah, who was a paladin in Lordaeron and served next to Uther. Since then I have been performing my duties with the Curch and reciving instruction from my master. That should bring me to where I am now, moving into the house of Virtue... though I still need to find a room *laughs*
I look foward to working with you all, and I do hope that I may bring honor and glory to the house, and to the Defenders.
