OOC Information[]
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History[]
Early history[]
The past of Kari is murky even to herself, life before the Vrykul flocked to the deep halls in order to flee the Old God's curse simply doesn't register to her anymore.
What is familiar to her is the first steps into a new, unfamiliar land. When they awoke she hurried in pursuit of her parents, they amongst many others established a village near the coast, nestled between a river and a mighty wall of fjords that almost entirely shaded them from the cold, northern star. She helped fish from the rapid rivers, honed herself to become a mighty warrior for a coming battle; 'for our god', was what she was told. And honed she was; when there was a raid to be done she could sail with her mighty mother; whether she had to cleave the head of a Tuskarr, hunt mighty prey, she was always up to the task.
~~
One night, she was awoken by the sound of the mighty horn blowing. Today was the night after a celebratory feast; surely they're not raiding on engorged bellies? The young Kari lifted herself to gaze out the window, her senses overwhelmed; the sounds of frenzied screams, the unmistakable stench of black, ugly smoke filling her lungs... There were longhouses on fire, familiar faces slouched upon walls with weapons seared into their chests and heads. She only had a second to digest this before the door pounded, and a half-second later it burst open, a brilliant light flashing across the room as if there were no shadow. She frantically scanned the room for anything to kill the intruder with, settling upon her shield. She grasped it tightly and as the figure stepped out from behind the door, she sprung off her favoured leg and impacted it at a brutish pace, causing both to fly and thud against the wall. Soon, she was staring this person in the face; jaunt, small features. Familiar to her, but in a shrunken form. He had a small, shameful beard that wisped from his cheekbones and armour that glistened like the sun shone. When he looked into his eyes, she saw a hint of pity. Furious, she slammed him with her spare arm sideways into the ground. When she went to bash the small man's skull with the edge of her shield, he deflected it with the shaft of his hammer, a light blinded her eyes and soon she felt a searing shock through her chest; a radiating burn that shot through her whole body. Soon he gained the upper hand, swinging his hammer and bashing her shoulder in during her moment of distraction. As she flew back, her head slammed off a metal surface and just as quickly drained her of her thoughts, everything a blurry mess before her. She could only flail a wild haymaker towards the blur of the man's face, clearly missing as he swung another blow of his hammer, imminently bashing her skull-- but it stopped. She spent her last few seconds staring at the darkened, blurry face of a hammer and the man silently staring at her, her vision too scrambled to make out an expression.
~~
The next moment she awoke, she was restrained by her ankles and wrists, shackled tightly to a stoop with a ringing in her head refusing to leave. She tried to tug, but as she flexed to move they felt the sharp steel poking at her bare arms and legs, on her calves, thighs, biceps and forearms. She growled fiercely and pulled as many times as she could but the shackles wouldn't budge with her lack of leverage and how they were fastened. The same figure, now robed instead of armoured strolled up to her barred cell with a grim expression,
<Apologies for the treatment. We had to be sure you wouldn't set yourself free. You're safe, however, do not fear.>
The young Vrykul's mind began to spin, a whirlwind of emotions beginning to pour through her mind, none of which positive or reassuring. She screamed a few words in her native language, spitting out as she enunciated letters and curling her lips in disgust as she attempted to explain to no avail.
"YOU WRETCHED KNAVE! YOU DENY ME THE HALLS? YOU SHACKLE ME FROM THE FREEDOM OF RIPPING YOUR LUNGS FROM YOUR CORPSE?! I WILL SPEND EVERY LAST MINUTE FIGHTING, AND I WILL EARN MY REDEMPTION!"
~~
None of this relayed in anything but gibberish, a language barrier firmly in place. However, this recurred every morning for the next two months. The face of her hate would enter the room and feed her, or at least attempt to. It was days before she would nibble on a morsel. Every morning she would spit out every insult she ever learned to a blank, unemotional face. It infuriated her. It drove her near insane. She broke her shackles and nearly broke out five times in four weeks; every time she would lose to him and the couple of guards that stayed nearby. In retrospect, it was miraculous someone didn't come down and end her misery, to free a cell, but the man insisted on keeping her there and tending it himself. After her last attempt at escape and subsequent beating-down, he was right by her side as she came to. He stared into her eyes as she seethed at him, baring her teeth, spitting at him. He calmly held up a fruit; an apple. He pointed towards it until she averted her attention towards it, and spoke, "Apple." She oh-so-elegantly spat on it as well. He let out a throaty chuckle before motioning his head and saying, "Spit." He spat in demonstration, mimicking her own efforts, though respectfully on the floor. These lessons persisted for the next few weeks, before he could tangibly express sentences she could vaguely understand.
~~
Through this, her blind fury slightly softened. She hated him, but it was a familiar occurance. She considered starving herself dozens of times, but what drove her was the eventuality that she gained the upper hand to kill him and regain her honour. Anyway, what resulted was a semblance of a resentful relationship. Her captor, a paladin, saw his deceased daughter in her and spared her; attempted to teach her. As they began to understand eachother slightly, she began to make his hatred of him clear; but what she didn't realize until years later is she resented herself, her perceived lack of strength. Months passed before the guards would finally allow him to take her to his residence in the fort in shackles, restrained at all times but able to scuttle in her chains. At this point, they'd grown to understand each other slightly. She didn't wish to plot his demise, but she did attempt to return home many times; her restraints making it rather hard to escape the house and his watchful gaze let alone a fortified yard full of vigilant soldiers and guards.
Year later (to Present - 1 Year)[]
Months turned into a year, and she'd started to learn tangible Common. A year later, she was freed from her shackles and allowed to roam the house, doing work carrying gear as a squire would, cooking things she was familiar cooking, even writing a detailed map for her fostered caretaker. In this length of time, hatred started to dissipate into the smallest of an attachment; he was her only animate being to talk to, the one who provided sustenance, her world revolved around this small space. And so she began to accept it. As much as the Paladin felt it sparing her, the first years were much of a nightmare; given so much time to stay inside her head and ponder all the ways she'd failed and the indignity of a proud Vrykul being bound to shackles wore on her; she developed a severe depression for years during her capture, her lively and feisty spirit turning to a somber one. In a sense, she was a shell of herself. As soldiers drew out of Northrend, a battle waged and won, so did her caretaker consider moving back to help in efforts back home; after all, things had changed much. As a higher ranking officer, he was recieving demands to come home and deal with the threats the Twilight cult posed in the midst of Deathwing's rise. And eventually, they did.
~~
It was difficult to justify carrying a Vrykul into the bustling Stormwind City, and so he pulled strings to have her smuggled to his domain, where they'd continue residing, or rather she would while he spent many months fighting another war. His apprentice came and fed her periodically, leaving her tomes that ranged from children's reading to advanced; the paladin's teaching came in handy as she was able to make out the smallest of common words and letters, the rest learnt from childish scriptures that defined many basic items.
~~ I would chronologically list these things, but I'm a horrible storyteller and this is probably all of my writing you can handle. Over two years she spent time beginning to train once more with the watchful eye of her paladin mentor, learning Common, beginning to read, starting to develop an understanding of Human culture. Only recently has she stepped out into the world. With this newfound knowledge and a rather forced-upon willingness to accept and learn from her new experiences, she satisfied the criteria of being a generally normal citizen. Brushes with the law from overzealous guards or misunderstanding citizens have happened, but she keeps much of a reserved behaviour for the sake of not disturbing the peace; it was made clear that any mistakes she made would be answered with harshly as a foreigner to the Alliance, not to mention the impression her Vrykul origins might've made on people. She has basic papers as a registered immigrant to the city, but if she ever broke the law she'd surely be either executed or deported.