Akhamanassar

Name: Akhamanassar
Age: unknown
- Apparently what would be 25 years
Race: Forsaken (Quel'dorei)
Class: Warlock

Character Appearance: Facial features of a highborne. Bright eyes,discolored hair, she smells of night flower and those who sense nether can feel it overwhelming

Traits of note: She bears a different accent of Thalassian, is usually pleasant and courteous, caring but bossy, tries to tame her arrogance and can have strange outbursts of rage if her heritage is disputed. She thinks herself as a Sin'dorei for she sees no great difference between them and the highborne she starts making a difference if she sees shameful specimens of the Sin'Dorei

Player OOC notes: (due to in game engine limitations the language sometimes is just narrated as [Thalassian] or limited to some words, she dislikes most Forsaken for she find them unpleasant and rude))

((I made the name because it sounded nice, after some weeks I went to see if there was any actual meaning I stumbled upon John Taylor's "Death and the Afterlife in Ancient Egypt", some farsi sources and the old norse Assar, a nice coincidence to her story and demeanor))

((im not well versed in WoW lore, I sticked to the lore on the site, and Im a non native english speaker so excuse me for typos or actual mistakes =) ))

Character Biography:


Chapter I - Born to Death


It was at night, the lightning strands ripped the sky tearing the darkness , the rain poured heavily, it seems the very nature was shaken, she woke dizzy, lost, inside the remnants of a stone tomb.

Her long nails...they tried desperately to hurt the heavy stoneslab, remnants of a once heavy and adorned lid, the sensation of imminent death and the desperate attempt to avoid it, no it was no death, it was.. rebirth.

As she managed to move the heavy stone pieces, she could listen, see and smell the enviroment, it was thunder, lightning and nether..

She crawled and staggered from beneath the debris , within the remnants of a mausoleum that resembled a circular tower, she arose, looking at her hands, and her arms ,a mockery, a painful reminder of her former self...like a nightmare that cannot be escaped, she was trapped on her own self, she stumbled , her legs teared and weak,

-Learn to walk, she thought.

Her footsteps betrayed her, she fell time and again, trying to raise, in agony, touching ancient stone wall of the mausoleum, damp and tainted... yet she arised and tried again, always tried again.

-I am not going down like this – her voice muttered an oath, her body battered, but her pride intact, the questions, those would be answered later...now she tried to walk.

As she managed to crawl to the exit, trough a ramp that went up and then down, she could see it, there were many, too many, she became... undead.

2 – What makes you...

She stood by the entrance to the tower, the mausoleum and the black skies cried, horror, decadence, hopelesness, one more lightning, light, betrayer of darkness, it shows what should be hidden, other wretched forms walked back and forth, going about their unlives, as they seemed to not realize what tragedy befell them.. and the heavy thunder echoed as her hands reached to protect her ears...

- My ears... what happened to them,- she touched the bruises, it was repulsive and yet curious, she couldnt feel them, glancing at her death cradle, she saw them, the pride of a true highborn, laying there, like some meat..., they were not the same..worms festered..in despair, as silent tears rolled from her impassible face, she started to cut what little was left of them, she pulled a strand out of her tunic, resolute and obsessed, a desperate measure, not thinking, a reflex... she started to sew it back, sew it back sew it back, the urge echoed.

The raining water left a small cloudy pool over the stone coffin, she looked at it...expecting an horrid visage, yet.. she retained it, a morbid beauty... she tilted her head a little, torn between curiosity and fear, trying to see the reflection of her own ears a strong nausea overcame her...the crude stitching...a monster..a shame...

-WHY? - Her cry could be heard from afar, her torment and her trial were just beginning...nowhere to go and no reason to stay...She sat with her arms holding her knees, rocking back and forth, hoping to wake up...she could not look at herself, the smell of death and decay around her, not even the fine embroidery on her mortuary robe seemed better.

-embroidery – she muttered as desperately reaching to the coffin in search of something more...any small thing, even some old rock chips, maybe..it could give her some insight..her memory was lost, her eyes perceived hungrily the enviroment, searching for something familiar, needing something familiar even if faintly ...familiar...

Standing like a digging trogg the pain on her fingers and the dripping blood from her fingers those were not her concern, she tossed the debris away untill she found an inscription, partially faded a name... Akh'aman'assar...

-name...Akhamanassar. - she lowered her head thinking about that meaning...the immortal fearless mother who knows the answers...she chuckles bitterly and laughs loud as overtaken by sudden madness , it was amusing the sarcasm of it, she appreciated it even, it was a good joke, painful but a good joke...the laughter then a lament together, an antithesis...answers...I barely have questions...

- She walked out again, slowly, why rush? No rush on having even more suffering... it was not curiosity that made her go, it was her need to not stay... welcome to undeath wretched creature – she smirked and chuckled at herself, - torture yourself, wretched creature, at least you do not indulge this pleasure upon the others...it is as it is...