User:Rekota

Everyone has a place in life. Everyone has a story, a song, a soul... or at least they had a soul. The most fun roleplays for me are the ones that are complex, have meaning, and have a life of their own. My preferred place to start is asking someone to pick out a sterotype for me, and let me think of how it would actually work out. This gives birth to the most original unoriginality possible, gives me a fun time, and often I get a comment on how interesting my characters are.

 -Rekota

History
Spoilers Warning

Youth
Rekota's conception was one of scientific curiosity. Her mother had no wish to care for a child, and at the end of her experiment, she had resolved to dispose of the infant in question. However, during the pregnancy, acquaintances of the Warlock taught her just how valuable the life inside of her was, and the Blood Elf found herself thinking more and more about the child as... a child, and not a creation for her to inspect, probe, and study. After considering these changes in her thoughts carefully, she summoned the father of the infant in her swelling belly, a powerful incubus who had never had anything to do with the women he usually slept with after the fact, and convinced him in turn that their child was more than a product of momentary bliss. The demon took just as slowly to these thoughts as the Warlock had, yet over time, he grew to consider the infant with a little more respect than usual. The bond between the elf and the demon grew to be something powerful, akin to love, yet neither entity knew how to express such things beyond not killing their only child.

Rekota was born into this tense pact, and from the moment of her arrival into the world, she seemed to understand how awkward her very existence was. Upon birth, ritualistic markings had been branded into her skin, a symbol of status from her father. Like V, she had grown a set of fangs, wings, and a small tail, yet Kirista removed all but the fangs as soon as she was certain the child wouldn't die from the bloodloss. For a time, the woman also considered filing down the fangs, yet as Rekota demonstrated that she could learn to communicate without exposing them, she decided to leave the odd teeth be. Unlike the miniature wings which would never be good for anything but show, Kirista felt her daughter could use the fangs for something productive, like ripping out a throat.

Half demon, half Sin'dorei, Rekota was well sheltered between her parents. She grew up understanding that while her body was superior to the plain elves in terms of endurance, many a person would slaughter her for nothing else than spite. Thus, she spoke carefully with her head inclined ever so slightly as to conceal the deadly fangs in her mouth. Since the Sin'dorei tattoo themselves often, the demonic brandings on the daughter of a Warlock didn't raise eyebrows at all, yet Rekota still kept close to her family, wary of her distant blood kin.

Encounters with her other blood relatives, the demons, was kept to a strict minimum. Even though Rekota at first believed that she would find better playmates with these cousins, her parents slaughtered any that tried to get close to their child, suspecting the worst intentions at all times. Closely guarded as such, Rekota quickly developed a bold personality, only put in check by her parents' combined prowess, yet encouraged to pursue anything that held her interest.

Without a Fate
Headstrong at the best of times, determined to do or die at the worst of times, Rekota's mixed heritage showed her a reclusive fate filled with fel power. However, this was not what she desired, and by happen chance, she learned of a relatively friendly clan of necromancers who lived in the distant Duskwood. As soon as the day came that she was considered "of age", she left her family's secluded home and ventured to a strange land.

Upon arrival Rekota found herself locked out of the home by a large, impenetrable door. Angered that the caretaker of the mansion refused to let her see the masters of the house, she began to pound at the door. Hours passed and slowly turned into days. For almost a week, she kept hammering against the door, ramming into it, beating on it, her frustration steadily feeding her determination. However, it was this headstrong attitude that made the master Kalim Van'Tal appear before her, and refuse her his training. He considered her too stubborn and stupid to be of any use as a Necromancer. To this announcement, she thrust her fist into the door once more, blood staining her skin from her work, and shattered the enchantment on the door with the blow, showing off her true potential.

Still, she was refused to be taught by the man, who sensed her heritage, and had a deep-running hatred for demons.

Seeking Vrael
After consideration, she was sent off to find one of the Van'Tal's many offspring, a man named Vrael Van'Tal, who specialized in combat and had orders to evade the half breed by any means necessary. The man that Rekota eventually did find was no more than a drunken hobo living in an abandoned inn, the raw stench of him driving her backwards to save her sense of smell. Yet, her leads had brought her to this place. Yet, the man denied being who she searched for. Desperate, she turned away. For nearly a year, she ran in circles, picking up clues that Vrael had left for her. Notes, books on training, ways to cultivate and focus any power that she might have inside of her. Like this, she learned to discipline herself, practicing a new form of power that she had only imagined touching before.

It had taken this long for her to return to the hobo once again, yet he viciously claimed that he was not who she searched for, and finally breaking, the elf sat down, pale and exhausted from her search, deciding that she truly wasn't made to be a necromancer. Upon that announcement, the hobo revealed himself to be Vrael, and he agreed that she was completely unfit for the subtle art of necromancy. However, upon attacking her with a blade, he showed her just how physically adapt she was, and suggested that she learn the arts of a Death Knight instead. Pleased by this, Rekota could only thank her new master as he accepted taking charge of her.

It was sometime after her own private way of showing her appreciation, that he revealed that he was not very apt at teaching Death Knights, yet he had a plan to send her to someone else who knew how to raise the most powerful creations alive.