- Birth name: Zeldamere Anna-Hardy Kilmer (Zahk to her closest friends)
- Height: 5' 4"
- Weight: 105 pounds
- Age: 28
- Skin: Tanned
- Eyes: Blue
- Hair: Copper
- Has a small star-shaped scar just under the corner of her left eye.
Zahk is known to keep her hair short or out of her face when it's long but she isn't one to often change her hair color. She is reserved when around people she doesn't know but once she knows you she is warm and friendly, until then she may seem aloof or cold. Her attitude is one of "I'm a Paladin, therefore I am holier than thou". At the moment she sees things in black and white or better put, as evil or good; there is no grey area as far as she is concerned but that will change as well as her attitude as she matures and is forced to make life and death decisions in her adventures.
Uncommon Knowledge: Zahk does have a sister that she is unaware of at this time. ((I haven't decided if it's her twin or her half sister just yet)) Her original path was to be a priest per her father's wishes but she chose instead to be a paladin after a gruesome encounter with some Horde forces at the age of 17. She has had no news of her father since he left her at Northshire Abbey. Her father is presumed dead. She never knew her mother and doesn't even know her name. She was told her mother died giving birth to her. Zahk is unaware that she is the product of a one night stand when her father was drinking at the Slaughtered Lamb.
Here is a short story, a small glimpse into Zahk's past:
(*note* This is also the story of my rogue)
The night was considerably cool even for this late in autumn and she was glad Jarrell had the foresight to build a small fire. A breeze from the north promised early snow and she knew what that meant; long, lonely nights by the fire studying for her upcoming trials making her small room at the abbey as much a prison as it was a stepping stone to a better future. She pulled her woven cloak tighter about her and listened to the music of the night. She knew he loved the darkness that caressed their skin at this moment so she tried to hear it as he did. Crickets and other nocturnal creatures wove an intoxicating melody through the trees and over the small campfire. Elm and oak added accompaniment by crackling in the fire. Stars twinkled in the clear ebony sky. His warmth was palpable when his shoulder brushed against hers. She shivered, but this time, not with the chill of the night.
The wool blankets on the ground kept them dry as they sat side by side. She turned towards him, her copper hair all but glowing in the low light of the fire. Her deep blue eyes wide with excitement and a touch of fear. He looked down and was carried back to the first time he saw her . . .
He remembered the day she arrived like it was yesterday. He’d been nine years old when she first came to the abbey in Northshire. He was angry at his father for dying and unsure what his future held. His mother was a simple tailor in a simple village with simple people. But he wanted more. More of what he didn’t know at that young age, but he was sure he wanted more of something. He wanted something more than simple.
He was on his way to the chapel, to light candles and pray for justice to come to the savages that had killed his father, when a heavily armored knight on a magnificent warhorse came down the path. The knight and mount were accompanied by a small troupe of men, all bearing arms and looking ready for war. A lone little girl on a small pony rode amongst the burly men. She looked frightened and tears were running down her face, their trail cleaving a path through the dust. It was obvious they had ridden a long way for dust from the trail covered everything they wore. Not even the armor of the knight had a shine to it. Jarrell ran after the group and saw they went straight to the abbey. Brother Sammuel, the paladin, was waiting in the courtyard. When Brother Sam greeted the knight as if they were old friends, Jarrell became even more curious and crept behind the merchant wagons to get a better view of what was happening. The little girl and her pony were close enough for him reach out and touch. The knight and paladin were gesturing at one another and snippets of angry voices carried to where he was hiding. It sounded as if the knight was pleading . . .
“I have no choice in the matter, Sam! I told you, that woman will not even acknowledge this child exists . . . .”
“How is that possible? She gave birth to her . . .”
“You and she are all I have left, Sam. Please . . . .
“How am I supposed to raise her here, Marcus? I’m not a father, for god’s sake I’m not even married! . . .”
“ . . . if you don’t agree to take her, I will be forced to either carry her into battle or leave her at an orphanage. We both know how that could turn out.”
Brother Sammuel sighed and turned his back, walking into the darkness of the doorway he said, “Bring her inside.”
The knight walked back towards the girl, his face a mixture of relief and sadness. Stopping to speak with his squire along the way, the young man dismounted and followed the knight to the girls' pony.
“Zeldamere,” he spoke gently and softly, “you must go with Sam . . ." His touch was calm and reassuring even in plate armor he was careful not to bruise the small child.
“But no Daddy, I don’t even know him . . .” she cried softly, fresh tears running down her face.
The knight kneeled on one knee and took off his gauntlet. Dropping it without care to the ground he cupped her chin in his massive hand. Raising her face to his he looked at her with great love in his eyes. “He is your uncle, child, and a man of The Light. He will protect you until I can return.”
“When are you coming back, Daddy? How long will I have to stay here?”
“I will return as soon as I can,” the knight’s voice broke, the anguish evident on his face. “Until then, you will stay here, and continue your studies. Remember to be a good girl and . . . "
Just then the squire grabbed Jarrell by the back of his shirt and lifted him from the ground, the rest of the knight's conversation was lost in the scuffle. The squire leaned over to Jarrell’s ear and growled, “Get on home, sewer rat, this doesn’t concern you.” The squire shoved the boy away from the abbey and planted a swift kick in the seat of his pants to make sure Jarrell understood. It worked and the boy started home. Glancing over his shoulder he saw Brother Sammuel holding the hand of a tearful child and a knight leading his party away, a matching river of tears flowing down the grown man’s cheeks.
“I’ve never done this before. Will it hurt?” she whispered. Her mouth parting, her pink tongue darting out to moisten her lips.
“Only when I first put it in,” he answered, “but after that it won’t hurt.” His breath left a trail of mist in the coolness of the night. His voice was soothing and exciting at the same time.
“I don’t know if I’m ready. I’m a bit afraid,” she confided, her voice trembling ever so slightly. “What will everyone think?”
She looked at him and saw herself reflected in his piercing green gaze. It was the same look he gave her when he thought she wasn‘t looking. She felt that familiar flutter in her chest, unsure if it was caused by the fear of anticipated pain or the fear of something even more frightening. She had known him since she was five years old. Jarrell was the one person she trusted with everything; her fears, her excitement, her dreams, her achievements and even her failures. He was her best friend, but she doubted he knew it. They hadn’t discussed their friendship in depth. When you practically grow up with someone, you don’t talk about things like that. You talk about the things you do together and your dreams for the future. Hopefully tonight, she would find the courage to tell him about the growing ache in her heart. Hopefully tonight, she would find out if he still thought of her ‘like a sister’. Hopefully tonight . . . she looked away, suddenly afraid he would see the thoughts on her face. The fluttering in her chest had quickly turned to a painful ache. She swallowed the lump in her throat and looked into the fire.
He brought himself back fully to the present and watched her turn towards the flame. The sudden distance between them left him cold and wanting to get warm again. They had been friends for 12 years. He had shared more with her than he had his own mother, his brothers and even in his confessions to the priests. What was he afraid of tonight?
“Oh, c’mon, Zahk,” he said. Using her nickname, a name only he was allowed to use. “You’ve wanted to do this for over a month, haven’t you? Now we finally get a chance to be alone and do it and you’re gonna chicken out?” His bravado was fake, because he was just as afraid. He had never done anything like this either. Sure, he’d seen it done but never had he done it himself.
"I know Jarrell, it’s just that once we do this, there’s no going back.” She sounded beaten. Afraid of the unknown, of what might or might not happen. The same thing that kept her from sneaking into the Kobold mine to steal candles when she was 10. The same thing that held her back from a lot of what she wanted. She’d lost her nerve.
Jarrell knew what was going on, he always knew where she was concerned. She was afraid of doing something new, something that might be perceived as questionable. But he knew just the buttons to push to get her back on her feet.
“Yes, milady, whatEV . . . . ”, Jarrell started.
“DO NOT call me that,” she exclaimed as she punched him in the shoulder.
“OW,” he cried and looked over at her. She had her fist balled up and drawn back for another swing. Although he’d never admit it out loud, she hit like a dwarven brawler with a bad attitude. And that hurt.
Despite the ache creeping down his arm, Jarrell started laughing and fell over on his right side, rubbing his left shoulder as he did. Dropping her cloak, she jumped up and started wrestling him around the small campsite. They didn’t have much room if they wanted to stay out of the fire. Their camp was backed against a cliff and built into a shallow cave. It protected them from the elements while providing a beautiful view of the sky. This was the place they always met.
Zahk was pretty agile but Jarrell overpowered her easily enough. She was only 5 foot tall and might be one-hundred pounds soaking wet, but Jarrell was 6 foot tall and over 200 pounds, she didn’t stand a chance. But that never stopped her. He pinned her to the ground holding both her wrists over her head with one arm and started tickling her with his free hand. Although laughing she still struggled to get free. Raising her knees quickly she upset his balance and he fell forward, his weight fully on her. Face to face they paused and looked at one another. Their breath coming in short gasps from the impromptu wrestling match. The warmth he missed earlier was closer than he was ready for it to be. Jarrell felt the stirrings of something more primal and sat up abruptly, embarrassed. Dusting himself off he put space between them and looked over at her.
“So,” he said as nonchalantly as he could, “are we gonna do this or not?”
Zahk sat up on her elbows and glared at him. She took a deep breath and blew it out. Her thoughts were scrambled, her emotions in a jumble. She thought if she didn’t go through with it, he would lose respect for her, and she couldn’t have that. It was all she had talked about with him for the better part of a month now. It was something she had dreamed about, something she desired. Besides, he had her pissed off now, so she would force him to do it if she had to.
“Yes, we are going through with this,” she replied icily and Jarrell’s palms immediately began to sweat.
They got close, his face right next to hers. His heart was beating fast and he hadn’t even started. He gently brushed her hair back from her face, tucking it behind her left ear. More shuffling and jockeying for position and they were finally ready.
“Now don’t move, if you jump as I put it in, it’ll tear it and it’ll hurt more and take longer for the soreness to go away.”
“Okay,” she whispered her reply. Her breath came quicker as she closed her eyes and waited. She felt his cool hands on her skin and held her breath. She felt pressure and tried to hold still. The pressure turned into a sharp pain, she took in a gasp of chilled air, and then she felt . . . .nothing . . .
“That’s it?” she asked, opening her eyes.
“It’s in,” Jarrell replied, releasing a pent up breath. “I thought there would be blood and stuff . . .”
“How does it look?” she asked, breathlessly.
He gave her a small hand-held mirror. She took it and gazed closely by the light of the dying fire. Her left eyebrow now sported a new golden hoop. Zahk smiled at her first body piercing.
The fire was almost out as they gathered the blankets and picnic supplies. Jarrell kicked dirt onto the coals while Zahk folded the blanket and fastened her cloak on to her shoulders.
“What are you going to tell your mother . . . “
“Shhh,” Jarrell interrupted, “Did you hear that. Don’t move . . .
His sentence was interrupted by a volley of arrows whistling past her head. She dove straight for the small cave, the only refuge within reach.
“Jarrell!” she cried out.
Bandits, she thought. Out on the prowl looking for unsuspecting campers and travelers. Thieves . . . or maybe worse. She was frightened beyond measure. With the fire nearly extinguished her hiding spot was so dark she could barely see. She huddled behind a big stone to the right side of the cave’s entrance. The sounds outside carried in to her and she feared for Jarrell. She should go help him, she should run for help, she should be doing something besides sitting here in the dark! Tears started running down her cheeks. Her whole body trembled like a dead leaf on a twig. She wondered, and not for the first time, why she was as frightened as a church mouse.
Jarrell saw Zahk dive into the miniscule cave and take cover behind a rock. He ran to intercept the bandits and when he did, he stumbled at what he saw. These were not mere bandits from the recent Defias uprising. These were foul creatures from the Horde’s lands. He tried to stop quickly and succeeded in falling flat on his arse. He scrambled backwards, his thoughts to grab Zahk and make a run for it.
The leader strode into the dying light and was hideous to behold, nothing but a walking corpse wearing plate armor and carrying what must have been the biggest mace ever made. As he moved towards the cave Jarrell glanced back across his shoulder and saw a huge monster, with yellow eyes and great tusks carrying a bow and notching more arrows. The archer had blue hair that stood straight up and he ambled along on 3-toed feet. This creature wore a combination of chain and leather armor. Following him was snow white bear. Jarrell had never seen a white bear before. It was growling and looking to the archer expectantly, as if awaiting direction.
As Jarrell finally got to his feet, small hands grabbed him from behind. Thinking it was Zahk, he turned and barely dodged the thrust of a dagger aimed for his right eye. Looking down he saw a lithe, nimble footed creature skip back and make another lunge at him. She was short and quick, he grabbed a handful of dirt as he got back up and tossed it directly in her face. She stopped short, giving Jarrell enough time to feint towards the right and grab an arrow from the loamy earth. It was the only weapon within reach. The elf, for that’s obviously what she was, spat at him and grinned. Her long white hair held high on top her head. The buckles and seams from her red leather armor practically glowed in the moonlight. She flipped her daggers and took a brawling stance, a challenging glare in her glowing green eyes. She gave him a ‘come-hither’ gesture with her head.
Jarrell held the arrow like a short-sword, knowing it was no match for the band of thugs in front of him. The dead thing and the archer were content to watch as he fought with the elf. He could see one or two more green skinned things going through his belongings from the corner of his eye. Apparently that was the opening the lithe elf was waiting for. She made to run at him, then disappeared. Jarrell blinked quickly, thinking the low light was playing tricks on him. It was as if she had just vanished into thin air. The spectators made grunting sounds amongst themselves, gesturing and looking exactly like they were placing bets on the fight.
He felt a breeze behind him and smelled an intoxicating scent he had never experienced before. Jarrell ducked quickly and moved off to his left while turning at the same time. There was the elf, right in front of him, with a dagger at his neck. He took in a sharp breath of air knowing it would be his last. She forced him to stand upright, using the dagger as a leash. She motioned with her other hand towards the arrow he was still held onto tightly. Jarrell dropped it. His fingers felt stiff, like they belonged to someone else.
She backed him up one slow step at a time. With her right hand she flipped the dagger at his neck so quickly, he barely knew she had moved. With her left hand, she trailed the other blade up his abdomen and stopped, the point aimed straight towards his heart. She tilted her head towards him and her lips parted in a frigid grin. She was shorter than him so had to stand on tiptoe to get into his face. Jarrell shivered as she placed her mouth on his chin and licked his lips.
“You taste like someone I killed a long time ago,” she whispered against his cheek. Her speech was tinted with a strange accent but Jarrell understood every word. “Let us see if you are as hardy as he.”
A wolf howled in black forest, closer than most would prefer. The attackers were startled and jumped at the sound. Jarrell seized the opportunity to shove her away and tried to step back at the same time. He was determined to put as much distance between them as possible. But when he stepped back, his foot hit a rock from the small fire pit and he fell. As he was falling, the elf lunged forwards and nicked him in the ribs. He cried out when the dagger pierced through his tunic and bit into tender flesh. Immediately his blood turn to fire and the stars above his head began zipping past in the night sky. His lips began to tingle and he thought he could taste strawberries. The dagger tips were poisoned, he thought. Jarrell landed heavily, his last thoughts tumbling through his mind; Zahk when she was a scared five year old child, his mother on a cold winter night sitting by the hearth stitching up a new cloak, and the elfs' words echoed in his numb ears.
Zahk heard Jarrell gasp and cry out in pain, she heard a heavy form fall to the ground. Then it was silent. Grunts and guttural sounds echoed around her as the bandits rummaged through their bags. Coins were jingling. And she thought she heard . . . giggling? She prayed for Jarrell and for herself, and for the thieves to leave quickly. She whispered Jarrell’s name.
“Jarrell? Jarrell, can you hear me?“
Zahk strained to hear anything above the bandits, a whisper or a moan, something, anything, to let her know that he was okay. But she heard nothing. Maybe he was unconscious and unable to reply, she thought. Maybe he was too far away to hear her frightened plea. Maybe he was running for help. Maybe he was . . . no . . . she refused to entertain the worst. He couldn’t be dead.
More grunts and gurgling, the sounds of feet shuffling in her direction. Apparently they had heard her. Oh why did I have to make a sound! she thought. She cowered tighter into her niche, she tried to stand and scream at the top of her lungs but her legs were filled with lead, she looked frantically for a rock or stick to use as a weapon and saw only dirt and pebbles. In reality she was frozen with fear. The shuffling sound came closer. It sounded like someone walking with a bad leg, as if the leg was being dragged along instead of being used as it should. Then she smelled the most foul, putrid odor she had ever experienced. Her hand flew to her nose and she should couldn’t help but gag. Her fear made her stomach upset enough and now this smell, like one-hundred rotting wolf hides in the summer sun, was more than she could bear. Zahk fell to her hands and knees and retched.
As she was spilling the contents of her stomach a pair of muddy boots came into view. Plate covered toes and buckles for fastenings. She recalled having seen boots like this on the guards in Stormwind City. She followed the toe up higher over a ragged pair of pants, dripping foul liquid and mucous, to see mottled flesh, green patches and torn skin oozing pus. Maggots crawled over the spot where knees should have been, they plopped to the ground in great quantity making a heavy, wet, meaty sound.. She thought she could hear some type of communication from this creature to the bandits outside, but it was a vile sound and unfamiliar to her.
Zahk couldn’t stop herself, she slowly raised her head to look at the face, a scream boiling in her chest, when suddenly a sharp pain erupted behind her right ear. Everything after that happened in slow motion. She could feel warmth flowing over her cheek as she fell forward into the entrance of the cave. Was it her blood she felt or her tears? She saw a shambling creature walking away, a bloody mace in it’s left hand. She saw green skinned monsters with tusks carrying away blankets and baskets.
And she saw Jarrell on his back, lying atop the remaining embers of the fire. His open eyes unfocused, blood flowing from his outstretched hand. She reached for him, trying to crawl to his side. Her head was pounding and her vision was blurring. She whispered his name and tried to get up. What have I done, she thought. Her mind was scrambling through the events of the day. Quickly regretting many of them. The things they had done quickly and the things they had not done at all, just to sneak into the woods for a piercing. I wanted to tell you more, Jarrell, she thought. Now he will never know.
A heavy foot hit her in the face and all went black.
Out of Character NotesEdit
Things that Zahk is NOT:
~ She is NOT a dragon, vampire, worgen, heiress, noble, or kin to any lore characters.
~ She is NOT available for ERP (if you're looking for something to bang, buy a hammer and take up blacksmithing).
Things that are open knowledge about Zahk:
~ She is openly friendly and helpful in her adventures.
~ She is a miner and a blacksmith.
~ She is single and chooses to remain that way.
~ Her devotion is to the Light and the persuit of justice.
~ She abhors anything that resembles evil or injustice.
~ She has a particular dislike of Rogues (because they are shifty) and Warlocks (because they consort with demons).
~ Currently she is without a House (guild) because she is seeking those with desires similiar to her own.
~ She is rarely out of her adventuring gear unless she is working for the owner of the Blue Recluse.
She works there on occasion hauling crates and sweeping floors to make ends meet.
~ She is EXTREMELY SHY and NERVOUS around strangers in a relaxed environment.