Application
NAME: Avali
JOURNAL: http://altanachan.livejournal.com/
EMAIL: altanachan@gmail.com
AIM: ladyavali
WIKI NAME:
CHARACTERS:
CHARACTER NAME: Lady Liadrin
FANDOM: World of Warcraft
CANON: Post Burning Crusade/ Sunwell Trilogy storyline (current incarnation)
WHAT THEY LOST: Any memories of M'uru, which would leave her confused as to just how deep her corruption ran (meaning she would be unable to cope with guilt over it) and question the catalyst for her subsequent redemption.
ABOUT THE CHARACTER: Azeroth is a world with deep roots in traditional medieval fantasy. Though technology does exist, Warcraft Elves are creatures of magic, both wild and arcane, and the Blood Elves have eagerly embraced its every form and facet. Their history is marked with unfortunate betrayals and exile at the hands of the other races, and it has burrowed so deep that they themselves tend to act with suspicion and a general cold spite. Life has never been easy for them, nor do they expect it to be. The most distinguishing features that the Blood Elves carry are their blazing fel-fire green eyes, eternally stained from a sickening lust for demonic magic. Regardless of the fact that they used to be a bright blue, no matter how long a Blood Elf goes without siphoning the dark magics, they will never have azure eyes again.
Their homelands, the golden forests of Quel'thalas, are just as scarred as its inhabitants. From its blistered and rotting outskirts, the decay lessens as you travel closer to its heart; Eversong Woods is perpetually blessed with sweet autumn's glow, and Silvermoon is a capital graced with decadent ruby spires, golden archways, and ivory stonework. Barely few years ago within the unblemished halls of the city, the Blood Elves gorged themselves tirelessly , recklessly. Emerald crystals housing the anguished souls of trapped demons were habitually drained to induce a and drug-like high, prisoners of war and activists were openly and maliciously persecuted, and perhaps the most unforgivable sin of all was the imprisonment and torture of a holy being known as M'uru.
No creatures are as pure as those known as the Naaru. They are comparable to angels in our world, pristine and goodly, unwavering in faith. M'uru was a Naaru who sacrificed himself, refusing to fight back against the Bood Elf Prince Kael'thas. Delivered as a gift to his people, Kael gave the divine captive to Silvermoon in the hopes that it would restore something previously lost to the elves. In their hasty retreat to cruelty and avidity they had forsaken the ways of the Light and could no longer wield its immaculate energies. But with M'uru in their possession, it was possible to simply take the Light back without any mercy in their hearts.
The Lady Liadrin was not only one of the Blood Elves who wrenched M'uru's magic from him, she was the first. Liadrin had served her people as a priestess of the Light long before they fell into despair, and at the urging of Magister Astalor Bloodsworn concluded that waiting for redemption was an injustice to her people. In honor of her stepping forward, she was promoted to the position of Matron, lording over the newly formed warriors wielding the Naaru's magic, known as Blood Knights. Usually Light brandishing soldiers are called Paladins, but Blood Knights looked down on their distant cousins with condescending pride. The Lady herself even went so far as to order the burning and destruction of a church reputed to be a place of worship for them.
Blessed by their beloved Prince and this newfound source of power they maintained order throughout all of Quel'thalas. Yet in general, the citizens of Silvermoon feared and despised the Blood Knights. (Though there is no one direct reason, there are numerous instances in game where the general populace rejects them openly. Such as a scene where a weaponsmith, forging a halberd for the Blood Knight PC, is snubbed and avoided by his fellow craftsmen. Another involves a tormented civilian being harassed by Blood Knights in an obviously fabricated criminal investigation. The last , a Blood Knight Champion known as Vranesh, who rides through the city and criticizes each of the guards as they perform their watch, eliciting harsh insults whispered behind his back as he leaves earshot.) In a cruel case of irony, however, it was the Prince Kael'thas himself who nearly destroyed the Order of Knights he helped create.
Mad from desperation, Kael made a pact with the enemy of all life on Azeroth, the demons of the Burning Legion. Having slipped into insanity he could no longer distinguish or care for the people he ruled. Storming into the city with his monstrous vanguard, the Prince decimated the Blood Knights and stole M'uru before traveling to his final fortress at the source of all life for Quel'thalas: The Sunwell.
Once more the bitter lash of betrayal was felt by all in Silvermoon. Liadrin and her Order refused to submit, but at last she realized that in order to conquer the vast hordes in service of the Burning Legion they would have to atone for their crimes. She traveled to the city of Shattrath, the last remaining refuge for the Naaru. Humbled and defeated, the Blood Knight renounced her vows to Kael'thas and begged for absolution. It was then that she learned, to her astonishment, that M'uru had always known what would happen. A'dal, the leader of the Naaru, announced that all was as it was meant to be, accepting her assistance. The races finally united, war was waged against the forces inhabiting Quel'thalas. Deep in the core of the ruins, the Sunwell's immeasurable power was being used to summon a Demon Lord of the Burning Legion. Because of the combined strength of Azeroth's armies, the Demon was only able to partially manifest itself-- and eventually crumbled.
All that was left of M'uru was a single spark, a fragment of his strength, salvaged from the battle. Liadrin and the Prophet Velen ( Leader of the Draenei, a race who served as enemies and rivals to the Blood Elves) approached the depleted well, where Velen combined the spark with the pool of light, reviving the Sunwell entirely and making it stronger than ever before. The Light flourished and brought new hope to all races; The Blood Elves' insatiable hunger for magic was finally healed, Quel'thalas knew peace.
Liadrin in the days of her young life as a Priestess was quite skilled with magic, she would have had to have been so gifted to earn the respect of those in power in her later years when she earned the title of Matron. But like most in their youth, her heart was unburdened with fear or sorrow, and maybe even moreso because of her connection with the Light. (A force that specializes in healing and calming the distressed.) When the newly christened Blood Elves turned their back on the Light and lost the ability to use it, they lost not just a source of power, but a soothing presence. Liadrin changed into a force driven by revenge, hatred and a will to survive. It was at this point in the game that the player first meets her.
She began by offering the player's character (if they were a Blood Knight) a simple task, to siphon the holy energies from the subdued M'uru and use them for their own gain. It was a slap in the face to all that she once believed, but for the indignant Matron it brought her satisfaction to do so-- as it did for most of the Blood Knights. Brutality was common among the ranks, in fact it seemed to be expected. A second mission involves murdering a higher ranking knight. (Though the player uses their holy magic later to revive their fallen comrade, it is uncertain as to whether or not the player would have received a revival if they had failed the test.) Next the fledgling is instructed to rip a pendant of honor from a slain Blood Knight, mentioning that he performed admirably, but ultimately was nothing worth grieving in his defeat. Liadrin guided and controlled the young Blood Knights every step of the way in their advancement, and with each successful slight to their enemies she only grew more pleased and demanding. Her final instruction was to travel to a desecrated and war-torn city where a church of the Light was the only place untouched due to its nature. A sacred site for the Paladins of the Alliance, their former allies turned enemies, the Matron wanted their protective magic extinguished and the church along with its followers brought to ruin. It is only after completing this crime that the player is allowed to advance and openly wear the symbol of her Order.
Whether she was blindly following the actions of Prince Kael'thas, or whether she was suffering from her own internal strife from what she and her people endured is uncertain, but it seems to have been a combination of the two. Liadrin was pleased by the actions of her kind until the day that Kael stormed in and brutally murdered a substantial number of the Blood Knights in order to steal M'uru. Disillusioned by his actions, her icy demeanor was shattered completely. Faith lost yet again.
Yet through the generous and accepting ways of the Naaru and their close followers, the Draenei, Liadrin returned to her former ways. Without the naivety of her childhood she was more balanced, less brash. Wallowing in hate only blinded her from seeing the truth, and while her convictions remained strong, she no longer took part in the savage rites of passage that she previously assigned the neophytes. Instead, she focused on her enemies, Kael'thas and his Legion masters. In the end, when the Sunwell was re-energized, Liadrin experienced firsthand the alleviating magic of the Light.
Currently, though she still holds the title of Matron and oversees the Blood Knight Order, Liadrin is rarely spotted among the crowds of Silvermoon. The petty lines that separate the races in Azeroth were erased in her mind, and so she works to undo the damage done by the Blood Elves' former regime. Stern and proud, she walks with a steady gait, her head high. Her deep tan skin is covered entirely with ornate silver plate mail, except for her stomach, neck and head which are unprotected and exposed. (this makes no sense to me, I don't know why armor wouldn't protect your most vulnerable point. But whatever you say, warcraft artists.:l ) Fiery red, shoulder length hair brought back into a tight ponytail, a few wispy bangs framing her face.
Like those in any position of authority, she keeps her fears hidden. Perhaps the most terrible experience most of the Blood Elves ever knew was the razing of Silvermoon at the hands of Arthas, the Lich King. ( Though at the time he was simply a human Death Knight in control of a terrible scourge army. ) For Liadrin, she witnessed the betrayal of two princes: Arthas and Kael'thas; and due to her loyalty and fondness for Kael, the latter would haunt her the most, regardless of the fact that it strengthened her in the end. For someone so dedicated to her people, so motherly, the wounds cut deeper than she would ever bring herself to admit.
THIRD-PERSON WRITING SAMPLE: Liadrin heaved a sigh of relief as she watched the last few pilgrims slip away and out of sight behind the nearby curtains. Night always brought a certain amount of calm to the Sunwell, and though its' radiant light lit both structure and sky, hardly any but the most devoted would remain behind once the sun set. (The best part being that the devoted ones were generally quiet, serving as a nice contrast to the vast number of both High and Blood Elves that flocked there during the day to listen to her teachings.) She was a sturdy creature as far as Blood Elves were concerned; tall, imposing in the plate mail that had become as much a part of her as her skin or fiery red hair-- and she didn't at all look out of place standing beside her two armor-clad guardians as she paused to scan the chamber once more, making sure there was no one else that needed her attention.
"Go," she began, satisfied that another day of work was finally put behind her, "you've earned your rest, and I could use a few moments by myself."
The elven guards clasped their hands over their chest and bowed a sincere farewell, to which she responded with a courteous nod of her head, long ears flattening just slightly.
Once they too had departed, she paced over to settle herself at the Well's edge, fingers tracing intricate gold filigree that circled it. Every morning she rose to face a new dawn, to preach of redemption and focus her eyes and that of her people on the future instead of the horrors of the past. Here, each night, she sat and let it draw her back into darkness, holding tightly to the Light as if it were the only thing keeping her tethered to life itself. There was comfort in it, and despair.
Her felfire eyes shut. Liadrin drank in the warmth of the air around her as she remembered what it was to feel its' magic torn away, legions of undead desecrating sacred, sun-kissed land. The chill of the Scourge, of Arthas, perverting their people and leaving them as monstrous shades of their former selves, memories of it crawling through her veins like poison till every hair stood on end. The sting of betrayal, the crushing weight of being forced to lead her Knights when the man who created them all, who stood as their pillar, crumbled and meant to bury them beneath his feet in order to serve a new master. The guilt of knowing how many lives she'd brutally taken while drinking in his madness as if it were the only cure...
She felt her heart beat in her throat, felt the breath leave her lungs; the agonizing burden of how many sins she'd committed willingly pressing upon her shoulders till it was choking her. Who was she to speak of hope, of the Light and all its' virtues? There was a darkness in her soul that should have damned her to the Nether itself.
And yet the Naaru showed her mercy.
A sacrifice greater than she could even fathom for her sake and that of her people, placed in her hands to offer a single thread of hope. Liadrin's eyes opened once more to gaze into the heart of the radiant pool before her; searching for M'uru, hoping for an answer. The Light soothed her, returned her strength, but nothing more. Each day she came here and passed on a fragment of what the Naaru had given her. She recited words of wisdom and glory, gave blessings to any in need, and yet at the heart of it all she was perhaps more lost than those who stood before her. Chosen by the Light for unpardonable crimes. There was so much comfort in it, but always despair.
FIRST-PERSON WRITING SAMPLE:
[Liadrin thumbs through her journal, absently turning each page as her mind works to turn emotions to words. There is no particular method or reason, only the sound of her thoughts echoing dimly in the back of her head. A few moments pass before she stops; these days, she refuses to begin anything without purpose, and it is with every sentence already formed that she begins to write.]
This world is foreign to me-- though perhaps not in all ways-- but it is possible that it is what I have been searching for. The promise of a new beginning is a lofty one indeed. Letting go of the past, keeping our eyes fixed on the ever changing horizon...these things are nearly impossible for some. I have always considered myself one such person, however, I will endeavor to embrace it.
I set my faith in the Light. This time, it will be different.
INTENT: I've always been a fan of Liadrin for her actions throughout the numerous storylines she's been in, and I enjoy the fact that while she is redeemed, her personality has fluctuated severely from what it once was. There is a dynamic personality there that has the potential to grow, to fall once more, and to adapt to whatever comes her way. Whatever the outcome is here, I certainly hope to use these to the fullest for the sake of story and fun. :)
JOURNAL: http://altanachan.livejournal.com/
EMAIL: altanachan@gmail.com
AIM: ladyavali
WIKI NAME:
CHARACTERS:
CHARACTER NAME: Lady Liadrin
FANDOM: World of Warcraft
CANON: Post Burning Crusade/ Sunwell Trilogy storyline (current incarnation)
WHAT THEY LOST: Any memories of M'uru, which would leave her confused as to just how deep her corruption ran (meaning she would be unable to cope with guilt over it) and question the catalyst for her subsequent redemption.
ABOUT THE CHARACTER: Azeroth is a world with deep roots in traditional medieval fantasy. Though technology does exist, Warcraft Elves are creatures of magic, both wild and arcane, and the Blood Elves have eagerly embraced its every form and facet. Their history is marked with unfortunate betrayals and exile at the hands of the other races, and it has burrowed so deep that they themselves tend to act with suspicion and a general cold spite. Life has never been easy for them, nor do they expect it to be. The most distinguishing features that the Blood Elves carry are their blazing fel-fire green eyes, eternally stained from a sickening lust for demonic magic. Regardless of the fact that they used to be a bright blue, no matter how long a Blood Elf goes without siphoning the dark magics, they will never have azure eyes again.
Their homelands, the golden forests of Quel'thalas, are just as scarred as its inhabitants. From its blistered and rotting outskirts, the decay lessens as you travel closer to its heart; Eversong Woods is perpetually blessed with sweet autumn's glow, and Silvermoon is a capital graced with decadent ruby spires, golden archways, and ivory stonework. Barely few years ago within the unblemished halls of the city, the Blood Elves gorged themselves tirelessly , recklessly. Emerald crystals housing the anguished souls of trapped demons were habitually drained to induce a and drug-like high, prisoners of war and activists were openly and maliciously persecuted, and perhaps the most unforgivable sin of all was the imprisonment and torture of a holy being known as M'uru.
No creatures are as pure as those known as the Naaru. They are comparable to angels in our world, pristine and goodly, unwavering in faith. M'uru was a Naaru who sacrificed himself, refusing to fight back against the Bood Elf Prince Kael'thas. Delivered as a gift to his people, Kael gave the divine captive to Silvermoon in the hopes that it would restore something previously lost to the elves. In their hasty retreat to cruelty and avidity they had forsaken the ways of the Light and could no longer wield its immaculate energies. But with M'uru in their possession, it was possible to simply take the Light back without any mercy in their hearts.
The Lady Liadrin was not only one of the Blood Elves who wrenched M'uru's magic from him, she was the first. Liadrin had served her people as a priestess of the Light long before they fell into despair, and at the urging of Magister Astalor Bloodsworn concluded that waiting for redemption was an injustice to her people. In honor of her stepping forward, she was promoted to the position of Matron, lording over the newly formed warriors wielding the Naaru's magic, known as Blood Knights. Usually Light brandishing soldiers are called Paladins, but Blood Knights looked down on their distant cousins with condescending pride. The Lady herself even went so far as to order the burning and destruction of a church reputed to be a place of worship for them.
Blessed by their beloved Prince and this newfound source of power they maintained order throughout all of Quel'thalas. Yet in general, the citizens of Silvermoon feared and despised the Blood Knights. (Though there is no one direct reason, there are numerous instances in game where the general populace rejects them openly. Such as a scene where a weaponsmith, forging a halberd for the Blood Knight PC, is snubbed and avoided by his fellow craftsmen. Another involves a tormented civilian being harassed by Blood Knights in an obviously fabricated criminal investigation. The last , a Blood Knight Champion known as Vranesh, who rides through the city and criticizes each of the guards as they perform their watch, eliciting harsh insults whispered behind his back as he leaves earshot.) In a cruel case of irony, however, it was the Prince Kael'thas himself who nearly destroyed the Order of Knights he helped create.
Mad from desperation, Kael made a pact with the enemy of all life on Azeroth, the demons of the Burning Legion. Having slipped into insanity he could no longer distinguish or care for the people he ruled. Storming into the city with his monstrous vanguard, the Prince decimated the Blood Knights and stole M'uru before traveling to his final fortress at the source of all life for Quel'thalas: The Sunwell.
Once more the bitter lash of betrayal was felt by all in Silvermoon. Liadrin and her Order refused to submit, but at last she realized that in order to conquer the vast hordes in service of the Burning Legion they would have to atone for their crimes. She traveled to the city of Shattrath, the last remaining refuge for the Naaru. Humbled and defeated, the Blood Knight renounced her vows to Kael'thas and begged for absolution. It was then that she learned, to her astonishment, that M'uru had always known what would happen. A'dal, the leader of the Naaru, announced that all was as it was meant to be, accepting her assistance. The races finally united, war was waged against the forces inhabiting Quel'thalas. Deep in the core of the ruins, the Sunwell's immeasurable power was being used to summon a Demon Lord of the Burning Legion. Because of the combined strength of Azeroth's armies, the Demon was only able to partially manifest itself-- and eventually crumbled.
All that was left of M'uru was a single spark, a fragment of his strength, salvaged from the battle. Liadrin and the Prophet Velen ( Leader of the Draenei, a race who served as enemies and rivals to the Blood Elves) approached the depleted well, where Velen combined the spark with the pool of light, reviving the Sunwell entirely and making it stronger than ever before. The Light flourished and brought new hope to all races; The Blood Elves' insatiable hunger for magic was finally healed, Quel'thalas knew peace.
Liadrin in the days of her young life as a Priestess was quite skilled with magic, she would have had to have been so gifted to earn the respect of those in power in her later years when she earned the title of Matron. But like most in their youth, her heart was unburdened with fear or sorrow, and maybe even moreso because of her connection with the Light. (A force that specializes in healing and calming the distressed.) When the newly christened Blood Elves turned their back on the Light and lost the ability to use it, they lost not just a source of power, but a soothing presence. Liadrin changed into a force driven by revenge, hatred and a will to survive. It was at this point in the game that the player first meets her.
She began by offering the player's character (if they were a Blood Knight) a simple task, to siphon the holy energies from the subdued M'uru and use them for their own gain. It was a slap in the face to all that she once believed, but for the indignant Matron it brought her satisfaction to do so-- as it did for most of the Blood Knights. Brutality was common among the ranks, in fact it seemed to be expected. A second mission involves murdering a higher ranking knight. (Though the player uses their holy magic later to revive their fallen comrade, it is uncertain as to whether or not the player would have received a revival if they had failed the test.) Next the fledgling is instructed to rip a pendant of honor from a slain Blood Knight, mentioning that he performed admirably, but ultimately was nothing worth grieving in his defeat. Liadrin guided and controlled the young Blood Knights every step of the way in their advancement, and with each successful slight to their enemies she only grew more pleased and demanding. Her final instruction was to travel to a desecrated and war-torn city where a church of the Light was the only place untouched due to its nature. A sacred site for the Paladins of the Alliance, their former allies turned enemies, the Matron wanted their protective magic extinguished and the church along with its followers brought to ruin. It is only after completing this crime that the player is allowed to advance and openly wear the symbol of her Order.
Whether she was blindly following the actions of Prince Kael'thas, or whether she was suffering from her own internal strife from what she and her people endured is uncertain, but it seems to have been a combination of the two. Liadrin was pleased by the actions of her kind until the day that Kael stormed in and brutally murdered a substantial number of the Blood Knights in order to steal M'uru. Disillusioned by his actions, her icy demeanor was shattered completely. Faith lost yet again.
Yet through the generous and accepting ways of the Naaru and their close followers, the Draenei, Liadrin returned to her former ways. Without the naivety of her childhood she was more balanced, less brash. Wallowing in hate only blinded her from seeing the truth, and while her convictions remained strong, she no longer took part in the savage rites of passage that she previously assigned the neophytes. Instead, she focused on her enemies, Kael'thas and his Legion masters. In the end, when the Sunwell was re-energized, Liadrin experienced firsthand the alleviating magic of the Light.
Currently, though she still holds the title of Matron and oversees the Blood Knight Order, Liadrin is rarely spotted among the crowds of Silvermoon. The petty lines that separate the races in Azeroth were erased in her mind, and so she works to undo the damage done by the Blood Elves' former regime. Stern and proud, she walks with a steady gait, her head high. Her deep tan skin is covered entirely with ornate silver plate mail, except for her stomach, neck and head which are unprotected and exposed. (this makes no sense to me, I don't know why armor wouldn't protect your most vulnerable point. But whatever you say, warcraft artists.:l ) Fiery red, shoulder length hair brought back into a tight ponytail, a few wispy bangs framing her face.
Like those in any position of authority, she keeps her fears hidden. Perhaps the most terrible experience most of the Blood Elves ever knew was the razing of Silvermoon at the hands of Arthas, the Lich King. ( Though at the time he was simply a human Death Knight in control of a terrible scourge army. ) For Liadrin, she witnessed the betrayal of two princes: Arthas and Kael'thas; and due to her loyalty and fondness for Kael, the latter would haunt her the most, regardless of the fact that it strengthened her in the end. For someone so dedicated to her people, so motherly, the wounds cut deeper than she would ever bring herself to admit.
THIRD-PERSON WRITING SAMPLE: Liadrin heaved a sigh of relief as she watched the last few pilgrims slip away and out of sight behind the nearby curtains. Night always brought a certain amount of calm to the Sunwell, and though its' radiant light lit both structure and sky, hardly any but the most devoted would remain behind once the sun set. (The best part being that the devoted ones were generally quiet, serving as a nice contrast to the vast number of both High and Blood Elves that flocked there during the day to listen to her teachings.) She was a sturdy creature as far as Blood Elves were concerned; tall, imposing in the plate mail that had become as much a part of her as her skin or fiery red hair-- and she didn't at all look out of place standing beside her two armor-clad guardians as she paused to scan the chamber once more, making sure there was no one else that needed her attention.
"Go," she began, satisfied that another day of work was finally put behind her, "you've earned your rest, and I could use a few moments by myself."
The elven guards clasped their hands over their chest and bowed a sincere farewell, to which she responded with a courteous nod of her head, long ears flattening just slightly.
Once they too had departed, she paced over to settle herself at the Well's edge, fingers tracing intricate gold filigree that circled it. Every morning she rose to face a new dawn, to preach of redemption and focus her eyes and that of her people on the future instead of the horrors of the past. Here, each night, she sat and let it draw her back into darkness, holding tightly to the Light as if it were the only thing keeping her tethered to life itself. There was comfort in it, and despair.
Her felfire eyes shut. Liadrin drank in the warmth of the air around her as she remembered what it was to feel its' magic torn away, legions of undead desecrating sacred, sun-kissed land. The chill of the Scourge, of Arthas, perverting their people and leaving them as monstrous shades of their former selves, memories of it crawling through her veins like poison till every hair stood on end. The sting of betrayal, the crushing weight of being forced to lead her Knights when the man who created them all, who stood as their pillar, crumbled and meant to bury them beneath his feet in order to serve a new master. The guilt of knowing how many lives she'd brutally taken while drinking in his madness as if it were the only cure...
She felt her heart beat in her throat, felt the breath leave her lungs; the agonizing burden of how many sins she'd committed willingly pressing upon her shoulders till it was choking her. Who was she to speak of hope, of the Light and all its' virtues? There was a darkness in her soul that should have damned her to the Nether itself.
And yet the Naaru showed her mercy.
A sacrifice greater than she could even fathom for her sake and that of her people, placed in her hands to offer a single thread of hope. Liadrin's eyes opened once more to gaze into the heart of the radiant pool before her; searching for M'uru, hoping for an answer. The Light soothed her, returned her strength, but nothing more. Each day she came here and passed on a fragment of what the Naaru had given her. She recited words of wisdom and glory, gave blessings to any in need, and yet at the heart of it all she was perhaps more lost than those who stood before her. Chosen by the Light for unpardonable crimes. There was so much comfort in it, but always despair.
FIRST-PERSON WRITING SAMPLE:
[Liadrin thumbs through her journal, absently turning each page as her mind works to turn emotions to words. There is no particular method or reason, only the sound of her thoughts echoing dimly in the back of her head. A few moments pass before she stops; these days, she refuses to begin anything without purpose, and it is with every sentence already formed that she begins to write.]
This world is foreign to me-- though perhaps not in all ways-- but it is possible that it is what I have been searching for. The promise of a new beginning is a lofty one indeed. Letting go of the past, keeping our eyes fixed on the ever changing horizon...these things are nearly impossible for some. I have always considered myself one such person, however, I will endeavor to embrace it.
I set my faith in the Light. This time, it will be different.
INTENT: I've always been a fan of Liadrin for her actions throughout the numerous storylines she's been in, and I enjoy the fact that while she is redeemed, her personality has fluctuated severely from what it once was. There is a dynamic personality there that has the potential to grow, to fall once more, and to adapt to whatever comes her way. Whatever the outcome is here, I certainly hope to use these to the fullest for the sake of story and fun. :)