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About Omy

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  • Birthday 02/28/1986

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  1. Since the beginning it had always been about worth. It had been the Church, coming in and separating her as a child because of it, making the choice to enter the war early had been built around it. She had survived, because of it. Because of the Light. Because she had the backbone to be a battle healer. Once she was old enough to realize how much of her self worth was wrapped up in her gifts, her usage, she wasn't old enough to care about the ramifications...and then there was too much need and not enough help to feel outraged that she was giving it. Magic had made people lazy. Emely learned this from her early years. The Light, could fix anything. Sniffles to cut throats. Marriages to laziness. People got angry when this wasn't the case. They came with hopes, and never took well to the honest truth. They never knew what sort of cold logic it took to heal in the midst of a battlefield. The List she ran and tallied, crossed names from and pushed around based on probability of survival and distance to target. Those calls that had to be made because it was just too late, or too much effort and not enough chance. Preventative, not life saving, were the spells she cast more often than not. You didn't have the time of grace to consider every action, every spell. Channeling energy when things really got bad. You had to think and think fast. Think without remorse. Move on and step over even when dying eyes pleaded for hope you could not deliver. You said prayers with their names hovering on your lips, but you focused on the living. You focused on the breathing. You focused on who you knew you could save, and trusted that you knew the difference. And early on, Emely had lost the luxury of feeling bad for her decisions. She couldn't harbor those thoughts and do her job. And it was a job, but more than that it was a calling. She was made for those snap decisions, raised without devotion to a single sliver of humanity but her service to the Alliance as a whole. The Light, over the individual faithful. The clergy over the mother or father that wanted to adopt her. She had actually turned them down, when she was old enough. So she didn't miss a soft bed over the sleeping roll. Didn't know what it was like to own more than what she could carry on her back. She was built for war. It defined her, and she was good at it. She was happy. She really was. She met people every day who were searching, asking the priests and healers of the Church for guidance in finding their way. Their path. She had been set on hers before she could remember anything else. The only thing that confused her, was when people assumed she wanted more. Needed, different. They always told her; you don't have to do this with your life. She couldn't imagine doing anything else. See, there was a glorious thing about being a battle healer in that you were always welcome to a fight. Universal. Heedless of race and greater than language. Strapped for help and burdened with the injured most saw the arrival of a healer as a lease of hope. Drag a reputation along with you and the doors never seemed to close. In this way, Emely Delson never wanted for a place to sleep. Clean bed rolls and empty tents materialized without asking. Food too. Sometimes, pay. But the work, the busy hands and the shield against boredom...that was all she really asked for. That was all she really needed. The fear of sudden skirmish never went out of style. Not in a world built on such fragile strings and so, Emely Delson had no home. No need for one. Because even if all else failed and every front lay quiet there was always someone who would happily set aside the space in case the night brought terrors. This was how she spent her time between battles with the Watch. Between drinking and random chit-chat. After the Comm went quiet and the others went their separate ways. Drifting from battle to battle, fight to fight to offer her skills. That was what she was. That was what she chose to be. In this way, Emely Delson never lacked purpose. In this way, she never felt alone.
  2. <p>Omzy <img src="<fileStore.core_Emoticons>/emoticons/biggrin.png" alt=":D" srcset="<fileStore.core_Emoticons>/emoticons/biggrin@2x.png 2x" width="20" height="20" /></p>

  3. Omy

    Theramore's Fall

    The groan was bitten off, voiced only for a moment before she remembered. It wasn't training, not of the usual kind, no one had said remember to keep your voice down, they might find you. It was the ugly and realistic march of personal history that forced itself beyond the scream of her waking body, and cemented itself in self-preservation. She had wandered battlefields after losses, looking for survivors only to find that the enemy had gotten there first. Too many keen bites of a blade had ended lives that could have hung on... Emely Delson didn't plan on being one of them. Not ever. She needed to get her eyes open. Now. She fought the natural responses of her body as it climbed up out of unconsciousness, forcing her eyes open to meet – she cursed, frustrated that her body couldn't keep up, letting them flutter close against her blurry, useless sight. Minor concussion..wonderful. She kept still, her cheek pillowed by sand, pulling the Light by threads over her frame. She kept the glow inside, leaving the outer wounds alone to avoid drawing attention. It hurt, but she knew her limits, and she didn't have time to be gentle. She wiggled fingers on a hand that had been broken, grabbing at her mace that lay nearby, wrapping fingers around it's hilt. She hadn't heard any orc-speak, or gibberish...she tried again, her vision not yet perfect, but usable. Her limbs sore, but they worked. Her hair was matted in blood, but her skull was solid if not shaken. She rolled to her feet, gathering up her shield and ignoring the protests of her muscles. No time to sit still, no energy to waste in feeling perfect. After an explosion like that, there had to be survivors among the wreckage of the city she'd need to treat-- The paladin halted—startled, frozen stiff by what lay itself out behind her. She had expected ruins, twisted rubble, bodies of dead and clinging life. She knew to brace herself for the whimpers, the quiet pleas, the pain and the anger lingering on the air. As terrible as it was, Emely knew how to deal with a scene of that sort. She had done it time and time again. But, this... This was just... It didn't add up. There was too much silence for so many people. Too much stillness for such a city. Too much nothing, for the site of a battle that had just taken place. Of a defense that had been going their way... Her mind snapped down. Shuffling such thoughts away for later. There would have to be a later to deal with this. Right now... debris littered the sands around her. Bits of building, bits of wood and stone and mortar. There were bodies too and Emely focused. She could deal with those. She understood, those. She hurried over as one of them stirred against a chunk of wall, biting off her own groan in much the same way as the paladin had. It made her smile, just a tiny bit. “It's okay...” she said quietly, reaching for the elf with Light under her fingers. Even so, the woman jerked away at first touch. “...I'm a healer with the Dusk Watch, you'll be alright.” The elf was wearing the colors of Feathermoon, the empty sheathes hanging from her belt the size befitting daggers. Emely ran careful hands through her hair, white and short and stained with blood, searching for breaks and wounds. The elf laughed lightly, favoring her ribs and then hissing as Emely's gentle fingers found a contusion. “Best hands I could be in, then...” Emely gave her a small smile, trying to remember her bedside manner. “I'll get you on your feet.” “Do only what you have to.” “That's a given.” She muttered, setting about her work. It earned her another smile from the elf. Behind her though, Emely had seen the ships coming down the coast. Horde, ships. So had the elf. Her eyes stared over Emely's shoulder, clearing as the Light healed, the look in them growing harder. Grimmer. Darker. The look said 'hurry'. The look ached to get back in the fight, to make them pay. Not that Emely needed to be reminded. It burned in her chest too, almost overwhelming her usual calm. Normally, battle made her smile. The sharp tugs and pulls, the healing of wounded flesh. She understood these notions, understood her role. She could remember Ailene better in the discordance of battle than the quiet, boredom of 'typical' life that followed. She wasn't lost here, even for all the darkness of it. She was a Light, and it shown brightest when the dark gathered. But, this...what was there to do with this? Horde and Alliance had been....obliterated. Don't think she hadn't noticed that. There was nothing to be proud of, as all the people she had healed in the battle just before had been destroyed. To no avail. To a power so large that the air itself was torn and wounded. This wasn't the war she knew and understood. This was something, else. “We'll get them.” Emely growled, the Light growing under her fingers. “Wounded we're only that more dangerous.” She glanced up to see the ships docking, Horde leaping out to be met by...figures. Her heart leaping in her chest. Not just figures – survivors, and one of them looked like the Commander. No one else wore that armor... She also spotted another form hurrying down the coast. Racing the ships. She squinted, not recognizing the dwarf at all aside from his tabard. But he was one of hers and looking injured, though he pushed through it. “Go on...” the woman said, pushing Emely's hands away. “That'll do for now, just need to get my breath back...” Emely didn't ask if the elf was sure, the paladin knew she was from her tone. She simply nodded, reaching into her satchel and pressing a wad of bandages into her hands. “Wrap the leg and arm wounds to keep them clean. Join up when you can.” With that she stood, hazarding a glance around the other forms to see if another stirred...
  4. Izeal

    <p>I command you come back...</p>

    <p>I miss the crap outta you <img src="<fileStore.core_Emoticons>/emoticons/unsure.png" alt=":/" srcset="<fileStore.core_Emoticons>/emoticons/unsure@2x.png 2x" width="20" height="20" /></p>

  5. <p>Merry Christmas, Alliance dog!</p>

  6. Aweeeesome! Thank you! Now I only have the trouble of WAY too many things I want to do, and work getting in the way. Time to see if I can get the item to work. BD
  7. there's a place to put and run script? Do tell, I've yet to find it.
  8. hmmmm.....hmm hmmm hmmm. All good points. And I have liked it the more I play with it. Certainly! The bit about....having your history only viewable to certain people, I didn't know that. Much better indeed. An Emyi, what I meant is that GHI has scrips that you can write to program items. Like the comm unit I made that when turned on, takes what you say in /s and automatically reposts it in /g. Or making a scrip that will let you loot custom items off of mobs you kill in the world. Or the gnomish recorder I have that will actually record and save /s conversations. (wonderful for rogue mischief) Yeah yeah, so the more I think about it the more I like it. >.>
  9. Ahahaa, I had no idea what was going on at first till I full screened it. Aweeeesome!!
  10. It's evil. And you all know why it's evil. :< I think...part of what I disliked and still kinda don't like, is the amount of information they prompt you to fill out. Like...the personality sliders are a neat idea, but like a detailed history just seem...too much to me. Do people really need to know that without RPing with me? The states are again, neat. But could be just as easily added in your description paragraph. I'd rather prove someone trust worthy through dialogue than a 'trust worthy aura'. I know I know, you don't have to use it. But it takes some of the fun out of it for me. The ease and the bells and whistles, I think that's what I'm contemplating. You can do all this stuff with MRP, just not as much... sparkle. And you can't make as cool of items with it as you can with GHI. =X THOUGH, watching Uri run around Stormwind trying to find Sprung's stashes *was* gut busting. I think I'm still going to use both...maybe after I play around with it for awhile I'll get over my 'old person' type problems with it ('back in MY day, if you wanted to roleplay, you had to actually talk to someone to find out if they WERE a roleplayer...while fighting off twenty Horde etc etc') I've always like the creativity inherent in mrp, but it's totally worth mucking with. Without a doubt.
  11. eh....I still like myroleplay better. I think it's a combination of liking GHI and liking the simplicity of mrp better. totalrp IS very shiny though. Did they just update it? Or did they change some stuff?
  12. (Not really, no. To be quite honest I was more worried last night about getting a bunch of history stuff down. Her time spent in LC would amount to about a sentence...and Karelle would talk about it in person, but I didn't think its needed in her bio, just as I haven't put in there everything she's ever done. The babies she's helped delivered, all the guilds and fights she's assisted in, guild story stuff... it's not retconed. Just an attempt not to give everything away off the bat. I like people to learn things ICly too, you know. =) I always understood a bio was just a good starting point.)
  13. Full Name: Karelle Morrigen Other Names: Yvonne Adele Nicknames: Elle Age: 32 Race: human Gender: female Hair: black Skin: dark Eyes: hazel Height: average Weight: stocky Place of residence: Stormwind Place of Birth: unknown Known Relatives: none Religion/Philosophy: "As humans we need to learn to believe the little lies, so we can grow able to believe the big ones. Justice. Mercy. Duty. Hope. Love. These things do not exist outside of the ideal. Break down the world into it's smallest fragments, and you will find no proof of their practical existence. We find the Light, and the Light embodies these things...but it did not create the desire for it within us. It is a thing of the living, to have these notions. To believe in things that are not true, so that in time they will be. To instill these lies to our children and those that follow, so that they may carry on the Light inside them even when surrounded by darkness." A stalwart battle doctor, Karelle doesn't flit about the edges of a fight like some delicate scrap of paper. Content to get into the thick of flying blades if it means being closer to those she has to heal, Karelle has her own dented armor to show for it. This leads to little tolerance towards those who cannot make up their mind about a course of action. A sob story with no discernible plan to make whatever it is better, will find a closed heart in this flinty woman of the Light. She also believes very strongly that no one knows better what's best for the sick or bleeding then those trained. When certain about a needed action, Karelle will do whatever it takes to follow through. She didn't become a Doctor and a Priest to make friends. She did it to save lives and couldn't care less if you didn't like being knocked out or drugged to save yours. Go die somewhere else. As to the Light, Karelle was drawn to the Church for reasons other than a reverent dedication or a strong supernatural calling. Still, she has a hard time understanding why anyone would choose to shun the help the Light offers in such times. It brings about a practical eloquence in her defense of it. Occupation: Field Doctor, Battle Priest, Argent Crusader Karelle hasn't found a good place to start her Clinic yet, and while the quiet life of a city Doctor seems like a good place to settle down, she mostly uses it as an excuse to remove herself from conversations she sees no point in participating in. Group/Guild affiliation: Argent Crusade, the Dusk Watch Guild Rank: Officer Enemies: Wound and illness. The Horde at least have motivations to observe and organs to disrupt. Favorite Foods: While she'll admit it's not the best tasting thing out there, her time in the Argent Crusade in Northrend made her very, very fond of Steaming Chicken Soup. Favorite Drinks: Cherry Grog Favorite Colors: blue Dislikes: wine, sand Hobbies: Alchemy Physical Features: This woman's hair seems to carry a will of it's own. Most of the wavy, raven colored bits seem to have been tackled with care...but always there strives to be a rebellious piece that defies wish, twisting out from it's brethren. There are two, robin's egg blue beads of imperfect glass woven into the strands. Her face is soft, but her eyes are hard and sharp. Not dark, just.....determined. She seems to be in her early thirties. Special Abilities: She tends to keep it to herself, but Karelle carries a heavy sympathy for the spirits of the dead, reaching out to them whenever possible. Personality Traits: "Care about the world, it doesn't care about you." In the middle of combat Karelle doesn't shy from danger, or from following the better clad into unfavorable situations. She also possesses a sort of job orientated arrogance; her time spent in the midst of battle makes it hard for her to sympathize with the plight of...well, normal life. Romantic woes and politics being the most difficult for her to understand. If a life isn't directly at risk, she has a hard time getting behind a cause. She doesn't like to be tied down by anything that keeps her from her work. Her fellow watchmates have called her grouchy and cold...though that's silly to Karelle because she DOES smile occasionally. Despite this, the woman has a soft side that comes out in moments of honest pain or strife. History: Like so many others, Karelle was a child of the Stormwind Orphanage. Through a deep seeded need to be useful, and with the Church so close, she trained from an early age to heal in the Light. Finding the sermons and dictum of the Church more useful in soothing the souls of her patients than her own, she continued to look for meaning elsewhere. She found her answer in aiding Alec and his Falcons. Though young, her dedication and heart was enough to win her a place in the Stormwind gang as the understudy of the Falconhurst family doctor, Brennen Riley. It was here that she met Omy for the first time, though they spoke little outside of the elf's visits to the family Clinic. On the night the family was betrayed, Karelle and Brennen escaped, though Brennen's wife was killed by the Silver Blade. Distraught the man slowly fell into madness over the next few years, Karelle putting her life at risk by remaining in contact with her old teacher as the traitor continued to hunt for them. Seeking work, and in an effort to remain out of the Blade's reach, she changed her name to Yvonne Adele and joined the ranks of the Argent Dawn and then the Crusade. Among the Crusaders, her toughness won her respect out on the frozen wastes of Northrend. Unflinching, she ventured out with the patrols and groups rather than stay in the tents waiting for the injured to come to her. Still driven by a need to validate her existence, she strove to save many, especially those deemed beyond help. It was in those unforgiving lands that the woman first heard the cries of the dead upon her ears, and she has not been able to silence them since. Recent "History": On her last visit to her old teacher's house she found him dead and the Silver Blade waiting for her. A traveling Paladin and his wife stumbled upon their fight, chasing off the outnumbered assassin into the wilds outside. Just as surprised as she was, they explained that a night elf in Menethil Harbor had tipped them off about an old hermit living out in a cabin in the marshlands. Seeking to help the man, they had traveled out and prevented murder instead. Shaken, Karelle returned to her fellow Crusaders and came clean about her past and her identity. With a fresh conscious and reunited with her real name, Karelle continues her service with the Crusade even while lending more and more of her time to the Watch and her old friend, Omy. The two women never speak of their time in Falconhurst, or the years following, and Karelle is content to keep her Commander's secret safe. She hasn't seen the Silver Blade since, though she's not sure of the reason. The quietly optimistic part of her hopes she's far enough removed from the heart of the gang to warrant the effort as the years march onward...
  14. well....now you've just taken the fun out of it Cat. D:
  15. <p>Bwahahahahahaha!! Luckily, it's non lethal damage. ^^</p>