Pelande Aijatar

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Pelande Aijatar last won the day on June 6 2020

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  1. A whirl here, a rush of movement there, it was a bloody dance she had learned to appreciate. Swing, counter-balance, square up, drive the point home. Their forces broke upon the manor like a wave upon the crumbling sandcastle. When one spends enough time studying a building, one truly learns it. Not in the form of blueprints and plans, and not just walking up and down the hallways, but hammering and picking stone and laying foundations. And Pelande Aijatar had been given plenty of time to learn in those long, long passing millennia. She could likely navigate any one of the manor-houses she
  2. The butler, at first, tried to ignore Pelande as she struck the metal bars and called out. But she was insistent. A maid was eyeing her too, nervous. The situation in the city had everyone on edge. The butler called her over and she shuffled over inquisitively. “Inform our security,” he demanded in a hiss. The maid nodded fearfully and headed inside with haste. Thanks to the circumstances in Suramar they didn’t have the usual contingent of guards keeping watch over their gates. The manor only had its private unit, enough to keep watch over the masters of the place. As he got
  3. “So… anyone wanna take bets on what our new orders are going to be?” Maurice, the sniper of their insurrectionist team was the first to mercifully break the silence that lingered as they awaited Commander Kal’une Danteur to return from his meeting. It had been hours that they sat in this ruin of a room with Arcwine beside them. He lit a match as he put a cigarette between his lips. "Only if we're not betting coin," Pelande laughed. Her arms were crossed, her body leaned against a wall and her feet were propped up on a table. She looked every bit the laborer she was in moments like this on
  4. A ‘leaked tip’ and a couple of bribed civilians had lead to this moment in the final hours of the night. Two women stood in the Evermoon Commons alleyway amongst the corpses of several patrols of Nightwatch guards that lay where they had been cut down. The Nightwatch had thought themselves the ones laying the trap for those who dared ply their trade in contraband of Arcwine rations--instead they found themselves the prey, mere fodder some grander design by the enigmatic Commander Kal’une Danteur of the Ebonfeathers. Pelande Aijatar ran a torn scrap of cloth over the end of her spear and t
  5. Suramar City was rotting away with unrest, this was undeniable. After the invading armies of the Outlanders had been lost to the might of Grand Magistrix Elisande’s magics, she had become much more ruthless. Deserters were dealt with extreme prejudice, those who remained loyal garnered more affluence to abuse the public with. Just as it was tonight. Here within the canals of the Terrace of Order where a group of Spellblades threatened the life of a suspected Dusk Lily rebel. “Dearest Marquette,” sneered the captain as her phantasmal blade of energy loomed before her victim’s neck.
  6. As Pelande passed through the portal, the sights that greeted her were not what a Shal’dorei would consider pleasant. She was underground, in some ancient ruin of a circular room with high ceilings-- it looked like it possibly predated Suramar’s sealing.It all bore the familiar trappings of Suramar’s architecture but had undergone none of the meticulous maintenance. Still, it held together by virtue of its craftsmanship. There wasn’t much in terms of furniture, nor did there seem to be any natural way out. As the portal closed behind her she was trapped. The third time, by her cou
  7. With the liberation and arming of those imprisoned by the Legion, the rebels cloaked in dark colors and wielding the signature blades of the rumored Ebonfeathers had ensured the odds were well stacked within their favor. The struggle was as quick as it was violent. But even still, they worked upon a time constraint. “With haste. Their ilk won’t let this little slight go unanswered.” The stranger didn’t appear to be the type for conversation but something drew Pelande to him anyway. Thousands of years of conditioning made her aware of just how unseemly she appeared, tol
  8. Full Name: Pelande Aijatar Nicknames: “Pelly”, "P" Date of Birth: Aug 21 Age: ~10,000+ Race: Nightborne Gender: Female Hair: White, hints of faded blue Skin: Lavender Eyes: Lavender Height: 6’10” Weight: 205lb. Place of residence: Suramar Place of Birth: Vashj’ir Known Relatives: Maela Aijatar (sister) Religion/Philosophy: None Occupation: Warrior, mercenary, former construction worker/laborer Group/Guild affiliation: None Guild Rank: N/A Enemies: Night Elves, Legion Likes: Stiff liquor, exotic landscapes Favorite Foods: Anything with eggs Favorite Drinks: Fermented black tea Favorite Colors:
  9. Maela would have never ended up like this. No, perfect Miss Maela wouldn’t have ever let this happen to her. Pelande found herself wishing the demons had just killed her. Instead, the Nightborne had been dragged out of her city and brought down into a reeking pit surrounded by impossible obsidian walls. Her first steps out of Suramar in over ten thousand years hadn’t been the joyous occasion she had desired them to be. They hadn’t even been of her own volition. It had been a delirious walk in chains alongside kinsmen who didn’t raise their eyes from the ground; a parad