|Guild||Broom of the Wizard|
Below is Kysha's story. She grew up in a small village on the eastern coast of Eversong Forest. She is in her late 20's, adjusting to human age. She is a Warlock, feeding on the demonic powers of the earth. Her thirst for power grows every day. Read on, for Kysha's story.
Throughout the Second War against the Horde and Amani Trolls, Kysha Thornheart, and Randus Thornheart, Father to Kysha, were currently based in the magical city acknowledged as Silvermoon City, within the lands of Quel’Thalas. Whilst Randus fought eternally, Kysha would stay home with her physically unwell Mother, taking care of her at all expenses.
Kysha walked through the sturdy archway of her current home, and leant her back heavily against the door as it shut firmly, the lock creaking as it bound together with the doorframe. Kysha was an average-sized elf, with pale hair and gripping green eyes that could pierce into the soul of a demon. Her body was not muscled, or yet developed; most likely because of her age. She clutched a large, brown sack in her right hand, looking to be full of something. “Welcome... Home N-Kysha,” the Ill-looking woman in the bed stuttered, smiling lightly at the young-aged elf. “Did you... Did you bring the... The... What are they called again?” The woman asked bleakly. Kysha smiled at her Mother; walking up to her eternally stayed in bed. “Potions, Mother. Potions.” The elf gently told her as she began unpacking small vials out of a sack, slung carelessly over her shoulder, placing them on the table next to the large, silk covered bed. Whilst doing so, she glanced unknowingly out the window. She could see many of her kind rushing about with bandages and spare weapons, and other items of use during battle. Kysha could only hope that she would thrive to be as strong as her Father was; of whom was currently in battle with the Horde. Kysha was soon broken out of her daze by barking orders from her Mother. “Hurry... Hurry up then!” She yelled, causing Kysha to shake the thoughts from her head and hand over a small vial to her Mother. She could only hope that both her parents survived through these hard times. One soon-to-be-dead Mother was enough for her to deal with.
Countless days after battle, Kysha’s Father was killed, and the Horde moved closer to the City. Kysha, light-hearted and frail at this period, could not allow herself to break the news to her Mother – knowing it would defeat her only left hope for ever being able to live a normal family life.
“You seem quiet today N-Kysha,” the weary-looking elf commented as she crunched hungrily on a small, half-eaten golden apple her daughter had given her not more than a minute ago. Kysha’s mind was filled with engravement on the scroll she received. Her Father had been killed in the battle not too long ago. Kysha shook her head. “I’m fine, honestly,” she replied in her most convincing voice. “How are you feeling today, anyway?” Kysha asked her Mother, wanting to change the subject. Her Mother smiled at her delicately, her lips crinkled from the lack of fresh air. “Much better, since you asked. Listen, I was thinking; you are a growing – and you should not be home taking care of me. You should be out with your friends, learning our history. You know, sometimes hi-“ “History repeats itself,” Kysha butted in, grinning. “I know,”
News arrived numerous weeks anon, declaring the Horde had retreated to their homeland in defeat. Kysha told her Mother this; but had still kept the fact her Father was to herself. A few days later, Kysha’s Mother told her daughter that she was not afraid to die, and she accepted the fact that all this pain was for nothing. She ordered Kysha to put a sudden-death potion in her drink, so she could lay to rest. Before doing as she was told, Kysha was given a special amulet from her Mother. She still wears the amulet this day.
Kysha let out a long sigh of relief, flopping onto the bed, just below where her Mother’s feet quivered under the duvet. “Kysha, there is something I was meaning to tell you,” the bedded woman declared to her almost-asleep daughter. Kysha sat up and looked to her Mother. She noticed a small tear glistening under her eye, and soon it was gliding down her cheek, like a rabbit skidding on ice. “Is something wrong, Mother?” She asked, obviously concerned. She nodded her head and reached for Kysha’s hand. She accepted her reach and allowed her to clutch her hand with her scrawny fingers and skeletal-feeling nails. “I’m not afraid to die, Kysha. I have decided that this pain is nothing but in my mind. And the only way to rid of the pain is to rid of the thing that is feeling it. Do... Do you understand?” Kysha’s Mother questioned, as more tears slid down her pale cheeks. Kysha shook her head. She wanted to understand, but lately her Mother had been talking in riddles; and this was seemingly a simple one. “I want you to travel to the Apothecary, and ask for an Instant potion I can put in my drink. Do not reply Kysha, just do it. Go,” Her Mother ordered, pointing a shaking finger at the door. Kysha nodded, and scurried off.
Kysha's light hair whipped madly across her cheeks as a chilly wind flew through the air. She hurried into the house, and closed the door gently, dimly greeting her Mother with a simple and polite nod. Kysha poured the small, dark-purple potion into a cup, and handed it to her Mother. The frail-looking woman reached under the duvet, and drew out an astonishingly expensive-looking amulet. She took Kysha’s hand and placed it in her palm, closing her hand tightly around it. The woman let go of her hand, and Kysha did not think of opening her fist yet. Kysha's Mother smiled encouragingly at her, before beckoning her closer. Kysha moved her head towards her Mother’s, noticing the raids of tears that delicately danced down her cheeks. The woman kissed her daughter on the forehead and held the cup tightly in her hands. She nodded her head solemnly and gulped down the potion. Kysha could not watch.
Turning around, she heard the gentle, wispy breathing of her Mother stop and sighed heavily. The now orphaned elf opened her hand, to glance at the antique-looking amulet her Mother had gifted her with. It was of a large, electrifying purple gem, framed with a golden dragon, curling possessively around the outer edge of the jewel. Kysha placed the amulet around her neck, and felt her eyes flicker. Her usual pale-green colour changed to an intense, striking purple, and she sat on the bed, unknowing of what do now. She was alone, and afraid. Yet, she somehow knew that – by a flame of hope burning deep down inside her - her future would hold great things, for herself: and her kind.