Seranae Shali'sha: A History and a Story.

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Seranae Shali'sha: A History and a Story.

Post  Agnatum on Mon Apr 18, 2011 2:04 pm

This is quite old. I wrote it before I even concieved Agnatum as a part of the family. You'll notice he's not mentioned. Though Sinistrada is she is Solarum's ward. You may notice a few similarities between Solarum and Agnatum. They were half-brothers after-all. Anyway: this should give you some insight into the character.

It is unfinished. But if you like it I may consider finishing it Smile

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It was late, time seemed to stand still as the moon hung luridly over the twisted forest of Eversong. The trees with their tangled roots and all too perfect leaves shuddered slightly as an icy wind approached. The dead scar seemed heavier with Scourge then usual, those that fell seeming to rise with-in moments and the training rangers finding it hard to keep them from the wall. Swords swung fluidly through the flesh of one Ghoul and the arm of the ranger would be distracted by another, and the steady flow seemed to be getting worse.

"Where are the reinforcements?! The Blood Knights, or whatever that sorry bunch of proud morons wants to call itself now?!" a Farstrider yelled through the sounds of his bow string snapping back into place.

A member of the ranger party made to reply but was promptly brought down by a pair of particularly ravenous flesheaters.

"This isn't right... something isn't right!" the same Farstrider called swinging his blades as if they were feathers.

"Retreat! Retreat to the city gate, all that we are serving here is dinner!"

And they ran, the six survivors of what should have been a fifteen man training session.

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Serenae, that was her name, she was once a noble of the Quel'dorei, married into it of course. She had always had beautiful elven features. A sharp nose, yet a soft expression, one might associate with apathy. She had high cheekbones and soft turquoise eyes that matched The Great Sea at high tide on the banks of Quel'thelas. Her hair was a deep blonde with tinges of auburn that appeared natural, it always hung, naturally wavy, down her back. Behind those beautiful features lay a much darker spirit, she had wilted into an aspect of shadow, but only on the inside, learning the basics of the Arcane with ease and somehow manipulating it so that it worked to her dark intent, she would hurt any who crossed her.

Her husband was a Priest of the Holy Light, or so he claimed, and much of the time was required to keep many items of a dark caste away from the eyes of those who might seek to use it to harm, he would use them, of course, and if caught would claim it was only for experimentation. He was a tall man, broad shoulders and a caring demeanor that shrouded a similar intent to his wife. He and Seranae were a magnificent pair and they bore three children, twins; Solaras and Sahren, and thier youngest son Solarum.

Solaras and Sahren were the spitting image of their parents, they hung off every teaching and learnt the ways of the blade, where Sahren became a Paladin of the Holy Light, his sister became a Farstrider, and both excelled in thier paths, returning home to speak of what they had seen and done. Their stories however were always coated in blood. Solarum had been different, he had excelled in the Arcane practices and was well on his way to becoming an Apprentice. However he had fallen in love, his parents hadn't approved and thus he was imprisoned in the cellar of thier house, and tortured by his own parents.

During this time, during the torture of Solarum, Serenae had grown accustomed to Dark Magic, finding necromancy of particular intrigue. She and her husband would practice it in secret, having stolen forbidden tomes from the Sunfury Spire, they studied it as an art. However this magic had a price, and it eventually consumed any conscience either of the pair had left. They became paranoid and began to blame each other for failures either made.

The night of her husbands death, Serenae had not been at home, she was visiting the capital city. They told her it was a rather meticulous murder, the man had been sedated into a half-waking state, laid on a table, a knife through each of his limbs and one through his heart, his blood had been slowly drained into something that was never found. The Magister council of Quel'thelas had suspected a Necromantic ritual, but with Solaras and Sahren away, the only possible blame could have gone to the pairs "dead" son Solarum. The murder was never solved.

Years passed, and Sahen and Solaras would visit their widowed mother who would tell them that Solarum had killed their father. The twins would revel in torturing their imprisoned brother, they would particularly enjoy cutting him to a point before death, healing his wounds and starting again. Gently they lost themselves in the bloodshed, and, like their mother, they became insane. They caused pain and death to anything they touched and were thrown out of their orders.

The House of Shali'sha was reborn into darkness, and when the Scourge came it embraced that darkness, Serenae had escaped to the Eastern Plaguelands to study with the Cult of the Damned, she was long thought missing, her children had been indoctrinated too, Sahren was killed and risen as a Death knight of the Scourge and Solaras as an Agent of the Cult, sent to spy on the living. Solarum, during the attack, had escaped and hidden.

Slowly but surely she had risen up the ranks of the Cult, and was appointed by Kel'thuzad himself to oversee the members of the Northern Eastern Kingdoms. She had learnt much during this time, and was particularly adept at spreading the plague. She had earned the nickname "The Walking Disease". As agents of the scourge the family thrived, murdering, pillaging, they even practiced cannibalism.

Sahren had visited Silvermoon a few times, he had gone to taunt his brother, and Solaras had been steadily watching her brother’s progress as a Magister, there was a battle and Solaras was killed by Solarum, her body an unrecognizable burnt husk, it was said she had been immolated, her blood boiled, her heart and brain cooked, and her skin had turned hard and black. Sahren had barely gotten away, however half his face had been burnt to nothingness and only the skeletal shell underneath could be seen.

The death of Solaras hit Serenae like a Kodo hitting water, the impact had a resonating effect, she killed her entire order, and this brought her to the attention of the Lich King himself, he spoke to her telepathically from the Frozen Throne, he wanted her for himself, he commanded her to kill herself and to become one of his Knights. She did so, rising with even greater power then she had previously had, and an unmatched strength. Her bloodlust in life had been multiplied ten-fold, and she found a particular enjoyment in killing children. She stated that their energy, their souls, and their flesh was a far more tempting a meal then any simple grown man. She grew fond of eating flesh.

Her vanity was all that she held on to in death, however she could not stop the necrosis that was steadily occurring and so relied on an Orb of Illusion to uphold her beautiful visage. Steadily the Orb lost power and Death took her entirely, her flesh a rotten grey, cold to touch, her smell, made worse by the necromancy she practiced, becoming what death SHOULD smell like. She embraced it, but would always hide her face. She infected herself with plague and disease, washing herself in stink and filth so that all she touched would turn as ugly as she had become. Her face steadily became a hive of infection, turning a gangrenous green, puss dripping from wilts in the skin. Her internal organs slowly turned to bile and finally when she had embraced the will of Necromancy completely, her insides turned into pure darkness. Serenae would cough it up, or spit it out whenever a build up would become too much, whenever she was particularly emotive.

She was sanctioned to return to the Eastern Plaguelands to fight the Scarlet Crusade as part of the flying Necropolis Ebon Hold, and then it happened; everything changed. The pathetic specimin that was Mograine turned his will from the Lich King and embraced what semblance of Light he had left, sacrificing Ashbringer and bringing about a new order. The Ebon Blade had been born, and Serenae was assumed to be a part of it. Her will had broken free of Arthas, but her blood lust, her need to destroy had remained the same. And then she saw it. Silvermoon, hive of the wicked, the insane and the dirty.

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The Scourge attack had been reported to Gatewatcher Aendor who had promptly mobilized the guard to stand watch at the gate. The Blood Knights who still took orders in Silvermoon travelled to the Dead Scar to find it empty, devoid of unlife, but travelled up to Deatholme to be sure. Deatholme had its gates closed, the usual parade of Scourge no longer "parading". The Small force of Blood Knights shouted for a response, only to hear a quiet rustling behind the gates, as if the wind had blown a stray brittle bone around.

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She stood upon the steps of the Inn situated upon the Plaza of the Bazaar, staring blankly at fools run by, one claimed to be half-dragon, another would claim to be the son of Arthas, such blasphemy needed punishing, but she would wait. At the moment she was hungry. Not in the conventional sense, since her death meant she did not require nutritional sustenance, but she required warm blood, something to feed the dark hunger that Necromancy brought. She peered around the Bazaar awaiting the perfect idiot, and there he was; a man who thought he was a child, he had a guardian, but she would easily deal with that. It was easy to pass herself off as a wise doctor, who could heal the young mans mental malady, she informed the guardian that the man and she would need no distractions and that she should leave them alone. Seranae took him upstairs in the inn and had him lie on the bed, gently lulling him to sleep, stroking his hair, as he giggled that it tickled.

The story was about a young boy, getting a pet, wishing for lots of sweet treats, and finally turning into a humungous dragon. As the last words of the story were uttered, Serenae raised a dagger to the boy, covering his mouth while he slept and cutting into his shoulder, the man-child woke up screaming, but Serenae had drained enough blood, and taken a large chunk of the boys flesh with her, she ran cackling maniacally and drank her blood. Sated she returned to where she had previously stood about an hour later. As she had expected the whole debacle had been forgotten entirely and she sneered at those passing by.

A day or so later, staring blankly at the fountain after a good few hours of slaughtering innocent Dwarves and harvesting Briarthorn in the Hillsbrad Foothills, Serenae's silence was interrupted by a rather angry Forsaken member of the Ebon Blade.

"I despize thiz city!" he exclaimed in an accent Serenae was unsure of "Ze arrogance of zeez elves, zey need to be taught a lesson!"

Serenae simply nodded, she had seen a lot of stupidity, plenty of arrogance, plenty she would gladly kill if not for the Treaty she had been ordered to make with the leader of the Horde.

"You agree yez?" he asked, seeming to look at Serenae for an answer...

"I agree." She choked eyeing the Forsaken with resentment that he even dare speak to her. She coughed, lifting her hood for a moment to spit out a horrible lump of black goo onto the ground, it seemed to writhe at her feet and then sit there, a black mark on the grey stone. "If I could, I would cleave the head off this city, and watch it's blood run into the rivers of Azeroth."

The Forsaken man looked at Serenae for a moment with, what could of passed as a frown if not for the upper half of his forehead being missing. "You vould destroy zis city?"

"I would do more. I would raise an army and destroy every half-minded elf, eradicate the scum, purge the light. Suck the marrow from the bones of the dead, and raise the vain as ghouls. I would slaughter every innocent man woman and child, and laugh as I did it." Serenae's cold eyes burned with fervor. "I would teach the Sin'dorei dignity. The dignity they lost when they gained their pathetic addiction. Victims of their own stupidity," she snickered for a moment, eyeing up yet another half naked elf, "Victims of their own hedonism. And I would kill any who refused."

The other Death Knight stared for a moment slightly enchanted by the words.

"I think zis iz possible!" he said, finally snapping out of the daydream.

"Hmph. This entire continent is filled with weak willed Alliance sympathizers, even those who should revel in death hide behind shadows of self-doubt and impotence." She spat as she lifted her masked-hood once again to spit on the ground, the same foul liquid as before.

"Perhaps ve can make plans? Ve can destroy zis city, az you zay?"

"Perhaps, but we will need more then just you and I... as I said, an army. We cull this city of stupidity, and perhaps we leave nothing but blood and gore in our wake."

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It was quiet, Silvermoon was sleeping, and distant, hungry moans could be heard, the first time in quite some time there had been any Scourge activity at all. It had been suspected, at first, that the Scourge of the Dead Scar had been made to retreat to the Plaguelands, there was a calm feeling about Eversong that has not been there for a while.

The guards on watch had been asleep, but the moaning raised them to attention, they spotted smoke around the Tranquillen region and raised an alarm, a scout was sent to see what had occurred, but didn't return. The Scourge was coming for the flesh of the living.

Silvermoon City was under siege.

The sun rose, the light shone like a flame through thin lace, Stillwhisper Pond seemed dark and dank and putrid with the entrails and diluted blood of what must have been a hundred Sin'dorei. Severed heads were dotted around like mutated flowers, their roots were stray bone. Oh yes, a battle had taken place here, a dire battle.

The land of Eversong seemed to creep and creek, as if speaking of the innumerable wrongs that had taken place. Sin'dorei had been savagely ripped apart. Some were risen, others were eaten, others were lucky enough to be slain by a merciful brother or sister. The Forsaken had heard of the attack and the Dark Lady sent all she could to aid the elves, but they were forced to retreat and the Magisters barred the gate of Silvermoon with numerous enchantments.

The scourge was still there, outside the gate, Knucklerot and Luzran were banging at the gate, the notorious pair were put back together each and every time some trainee would kill them, and it would not break, it didn't move. The Magic was far too strong and the elves had learnt their lesson since the Sunwell. Questions were being asked; where did they come from? What were these monsters here for?

No-one knew.

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Serenae stood infront of a large statue steeped in light, the Quel'dorei priestess in all her glory. She kicked it momentarily, and she heard a gasp, spinning around she saw a tall Sin'dorei with short, spikey hair, the kind that had recently become so popular with-in their society. He was a Priest of the Holy Light.

"Aarean, a pleasure as always!" she intoned, sarcasm only slightly hinted at. She had tied a piece of leather around her head to hide the bottom of her face.

"I'm sorry? Have we met? Or are you just being polite in case I report you for kicking a piece of history?" Aarean stated, peering at the dead elf in front of him with a look of mild disgust.

"Serenae Shali'sha, or don't you remember me?" she sneered.

"Impossible! You're dead!"

"You don't say...?"

"No, no I mean, Serenae Shali'sha went missing after Kel'thuzad attacked the city, she is presumed dead. And you look nothing like her..." the man’s eyes inspected the cold glowing eyes of Serenae with curiosity and then he seemed to catch her smell turning mildly pale.

"Don't wretch, it's unbecoming of a Priest... especially one as Light bound as yourself Aarean, death happens to change a persons appearance," Serenae's voice became dark suddenly "You murdered my husband, you can handle a little death."

The mans eyes grew wide and a glint of shadow met Serenae's icy stare.

"You manipulated me. You harlot!" Aarean raised an arm and whispered a small prayer, but the light didn't come to his aid.

"A shame you should blaspheme in your own chapel, Chaplin. The light does not aid those with impure intent, it would be hypocritical for you to smite me. Why do you think the Blood Knights had to steal theirs?" Serenae seemed to take a little pleasure in this and drew a sword from the hilt at her side.

Aarean's eyes grew fearful...

"T-take what you want you-You Mira'Itera!"

"Now now, no need for names. I might be a lunatic, but if you must insult me, do it in orcish, thier language is magnificent for cursing. Anyway somebody might hear us talking and wonder why a priest would talk so putridly," Serenae spat at the elf with a look of pleasure in her eyes, "If it were as simple as you state Aarean, you have something I require in your grasp. Something I told you to take all those years ago."

"Solarum has been watching me. Your son knows my true intent, but he left me to my own devices. He knows I murdered Tarael. He said I must never aid the shadow again, he even laid his ward in my trust, I cannot turn my back on him. Especially not by aiding his mother."

Serenae raised the sword at the mention of her son's name and slowly approached the priest, the sword now pressed against his throat.

"You die now, or you die later, it makes no difference to me, tell me where the blood is!"

"You would not murder me in Silvermoon itself!" Aarean called her bluff, but Serenae didn't move and she pressed the sword a little hard to his exposed neck.

"Would I not?! You wish to take such a chance Aarean?"

"F-fine... I do not wish to know what this is for..." Aarean, avoided the sword and Serenae watched his back as he walked toward a box laid on the shelf, it looked like it was there for decoration. He opened the box and inside were four vials of very dark blood, the corks in the top now stained by the thick auburn liquid. "This is all that is left..."

Serenae didn't appear to care she grasped one of the bottles, and the liquid inside went from a stale red to a deep black.

"These will do nicely."

Aarean simply stared at the woman he used to know. Nothing had changed.

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The banging didn't stop. It went on and on, a relentless torrent of moans, and bashing at the gate. The citizens of Silvermoon, already frightened by a possible repeat of the past were slowly going out of their minds. Of course there was the ability to teleport to the Undercity, but that wasn't any better for them. A writhing mass outside their own city or a writhing city of death to go for safety? Many hadn't gotten over the initial attack on the city, many still feared the Forsaken, to many thy were just scourge with intelligence, and to many that made them more dangerous.

The city was in whispered panic. There were no riots, no fights, just an understood buzz that meant that something very bad was coming. A Sin'dorei and his wife sat huddled in the corner of the Wayfarer Inn hugging each other. They had lived in one of the small towns in Eversong, the man had been bitten, but further inspection suggested he didn't carry anything and he was healed by a Blood Knight just to be sure.

"Th-this is our punishment... we deserve this!" He shouted, and the whole inn stared at him as he stood up.

"Sit down you idiot!" Said one: an elderly Magistrix.

"No, no he's right! This IS our punishment, we have fallen on bad habits and now, for our use of the fel the light has forsaken us!" another woman squeeled.

"Everyone shut up! A Magister from the Kirin'Tor has arrived, he claims to be able to stop all of this; pray silence for Archmagister Solarum Shali'sha." Said the innkeeper, in a rather large voice for such a small woman.

The elf walked in, his spiky light blonde hair and blue eyes joined with all who were in the room and a small smirk appeared on his face, he stood for a second and absentmindedly played with fire between his fingers. He wore a blue robe with a large gold necklace and a large Starfire Ruby hanging at the end of it that glowed gently. He wore a tabard of the Kirin'Tor around the top half of his robe. He was rather tall, and very handsome. He smiled for a moment and then nodded.

"I know how to stop this, yes, but the gentleman is right, in a way this is our punishment. Someone is controlling those scourge. Someone has blocked the Lich Kings influence and is using their own necromancy, someone who is in the city." he spoke softly but eyed everyone in the room who had started to chat and cause a rabble, he raised a hand in a motion to silence them all.

"It is no one here, but if you see anything suspicious, you must let me know. I am here to over-see the proceedings from now on." Solarum shuddered slightly as the bashing, that had seemed to stop whilst he spoke, continued. He made to leave when he suddenly stopped in his tracks, he frowned and sniffed the air again.

"Tell me," he intoned as he turned around, "how many of the Ebon Blade have passed through here recently...?"

The elderly magistrix laughed slightly "More then enough..." and the room seemed to nod in agreement.

"Are there any in the city at the moment?" Solarum asked rolling his eyes as a sign of slight annoyance.

"Well of course there are, they are all over the place, you can't escape them."

"Does anyone know Aarean Sindo'sol?"

Another much taller elf nodded his head, he was dressed in priests robes and looked to be a trainee, "He was my teacher."

"Was?"

"He was murdered, his throat was slit in the chapel and a box was stolen."

Solarum seemed to ponder this for a moment and frowned... and then his eyes grew with realisation.

"Seranae..."

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Agnatum

Posts : 12
Join date : 2010-09-13
Age : 27
Location : Silvermoon, Mostly.

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Re: Seranae Shali'sha: A History and a Story.

Post  Torondal on Thu Apr 28, 2011 10:15 pm

Nice job, i'd continue it if i where you.
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Torondal

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Join date : 2011-03-08
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