Isishka

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About Isishka

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  • Birthday 12/01/1967
  1. (( /bump or.. don't make me think I killed the thread *cry* take your pick ^^ ))
  2. Isishka

    Isishka

    Full Name: Isishka Nicknames: Crone (a term of respect in draenei society) Age: unknown Race: draenei Gender: femaile Hair: silver Skin: dark grayish Place of Birth: Draenor Known Relatives: Husband Tolc died to fel-orcs far far in the past. Son Solcor died recently during the assault on the Exodar. Daughter Valnova is at large. Religion/Philosophy: Isishka adheres to shamanistic followings. Occupation: Shaman, herbalist, alchemist. Guild: The Ebon Banner Guild Rank: Veteran Enemies: She holds no love for orcs or blood elves. While she does not consider herself an "enemy" of Velen, she rejects his visions as foolishness. Likes: To feel the earth speak and to hear the rain fall. Dislikes: Vanity, stupidity, and false-prophets. Physical Features: Though she is old even for draenei's determinations of such things, she still maintains a grace of movement. Her hair is silver-gray. It is normally wrapped bun-like on the top of her head with a medium pony-tail unless you catch her at bedtime. Positive Personality Traits: Helpful and wise, she maintains a sense of humor and will to survive. Negative Personality Traits: While she tries to hide it, she is extremely bitter at fate for taking away her family one at a time. She has no hope for bright futures. Brief History: There is the time before, when the Light graced us and Tolc and Solcor and Valnova were the only concerns of the young woman I once was. Feeding, clothing, loving. I cannot imagine that these took up all of the days, but that is all I remember. Sometimes I think back on these times and wonder if it is just a pleasant dream. Then there was the long time of running. There was no Tolc. Food was scarce as we traveled fast on land that cried from the splintering. It is during this time that I, like many others, listened to the spirits of the land. I became a shaman. No matter where we ran, the earth, and the water, and the sky would whisper, and I would listen to their wisdom. But this time ended as all things do. My son, my fine handsome boy. He listened to the false-prophet Velen and he followed him and believed in the Light. He was first to volunteer for the assault on the Keep. We fought, but he was young and brave, and would not listen to me. I remember entering this Exodar, blood still freshly splashed on the walls. I wondered if this spot or that spot was where my son fell. *sighs* Now I am on this foreign world far from home. The spirits talk to me here, so like the ones of home, and yet so different too. I do not know of Valnova's fate. Sometimes I dream that she is safe back on Draenor. But I do not hold hope. Hope would kill me surer than swords or magic. I wake to the whispers of these foreign spirits, and I rise. I will fight. I spent so much of my life running from the evils of the world, but now there is nothing to run to, and so I turn to fight. Here, on this foreign world, I learn to fight. I will not run anymore. Theme Song: The sun don't shine The moon don't move the tides, to wash me clean Sun don't shine The moon don't move the tides, to wash me clean Why so unforgiving and why so cold Been a long time crossing Bridge of Sighs Cold wind blows The Gods look down in anger, on this poor child Cold wind blows And Gods look down in anger, on this poor child Why so unforgiving and why so cold Been a long time crossing Bridge of Sighs
  3. This world's spirits were quiet. She longed for the comfort of home and the company of those she called family. But they were lost or dead, and the fight continues without them. These new allies had not earned her trust, but she was willing to work with them. What choice did she have? She rode a dwarven ram up the muddy pathway. Not as smooth a ride as an elekk, but what it lacked in comfort it made up for in agility and compliance. Her bones ached, but at her age, that was normal. She approached the Hold with a critical eye. The walls seemed to have been built with more speed than care, but even still they seemed solid enough. These Alliance seemed to value their walls. Walls can be brought down. She brushed the memory off her face and dismounted graceful beyond her years. She translated the sign, and nodded. Work was all that kept her alive. Work, and learning. She should not need to learn, she should be sewing grand tonikays for her grandchildren and singing the songs of the elements beside a warmed furnace stone. But that is not her fate. So she learned from this world, and from it's people. The gate was ajar. She pulled the ram through and gazed around at the flurry of activity. Work. She would be needed here. And she hoped to learn much from the spirits in the land below that they named "Plaguelands".