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About Dessim

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    Junior Member
  • Birthday 09/17/1990
  1. One moment the bat was flapping for all it was worth to escape the billowing clouds of blight, the next, they were both falling. The distance to the earth seemed great, yet as her bat plummeted in a dizzying, chaotic spiral she lost all ability to judge . As the blazing countryside grew blurry, she found that these last few moments gave her an inordinate amount of time to think. Her thoughts drifted to the cause of it all. Dessim loved her Banshee Queen. She loved the brooding but resolute leader who had stepped forward to free them, the woman who had stood for them when everyone else ha
  2. If it's not too late, I would like to sign up Desim-Ravenholdt for the 8pm slot
  3. Dessim Blackquill: Upon Selection: Cold steel? Downright frigid. Click: Blades at the ready You gonna give me orders? Stratholme’s finest. No job is too big My blades are getting hungry Need something? Excessive Clicking: If I knew that –you- were gonna command me I’d have stayed home! Time is money, jackass! Let’s go! I’ve got an armory to feed. Fine, want to hear something funny? What do you call a death knight who refuses to be poked? The sound of a blade cutting into meat followed by a wet thud. An Un-holey warrior Ordered to move: I’m on my way. Hitting the street Marc
  4. *Mild violence and badly written dialogue. Reader discretion is advised* She would normally be skeptical of her good fortune. The contacts she had made in Azshara were notably fewer, but the remainder had a clear idea of where the others were last seen or where they were going. Some had made the short trip to the Orgrimmar skyway’s first tower while the others had claimed to have business in Ratchet. The only link that sprang to mind when comparing those two locations was the third point that met at Stranglethorn. It may have been coincidence or desperation making her jump to wild conclusions
  5. Her brother kept his lab in the ruins of Lordaeron, a choice that Dessim had voiced her concern with multiple times. It was too far away from his house and for every minute he wasn’t there he risked the possibility of sabotage or theft by a ladder-climbing member of the Royal Apothecary society. As per usual, he had ignored her advice. She thumped thrice upon the reinforced and battle-scarred door to his re-purposed apartment. She had sent him the Wreave sample a week ago with a request for him to find out what he could. She doubted he would have a definite answer but he should have been able
  6. The vial was empty. An eighth was taken as a reward for her continued therapy and sticking to a strict regiment, another eighth sent to an apothecary to try and figure out what it was, a quarter was squirreled away for safe-keeping and half was used to tempt frustrated workers in Azshara. Bitter wretches that spat at the undead, they would not be missed The first few days of use effected the goblins in a predictable fashion. They were ready to buy again shortly after. The alchemist however had remained silent. She had waved the goblins off, promising a new batch as soon as it was delivered t
  7. ((Edited from a Battle-tag chat)) Timelines had merged, Warchiefs had fallen, Old gods had been rediscovered, and an entirely new race and style of combat had sprung up. Dessim found it to be too much to take in all at once. The world had shifted so far since her burial and catching up was a monstrous task that left her with ten questions for every answer. She strode through the Drag with a pounding headache and a longing to be with friends that had passed in her time away. She was all alone in a new world Stranger: "Hello there, friend. You seem lost..." Dessim pauses and slowly looks tow