Pronunciation: Ill-ah-ray Dusk-striker
Date of Birth: July 30, -993 K.C.
Place of Birth: Astranaar, Ashenvale
Affiliations: The Grand Alliance, The (New) Kaldorei Nation, The Illidari
Place of Residence: The Fel Hammer / Nomadic
Marital Status: Not Mated
Languages Understood, or Spoken: Darnassian, Orcish, Common, Demonic
Religious Beliefs: Elune Worship, Polytheistic Religion
Profession: Skirmisher, Assassin, Tactician
Character Class: Demon Hunter
Abilities and Special Skills: Ilyraei houses skills from two distinct, fairly different periods of her life:
- Knife skills, primarily in dagger use;
- Toxicology (poison making and usage);
- Espionage and “stealth” skills (without use of actual shadowmancy);
- Spectral sight;
- Fel mastery (energy harnessing and body mutations most commonly used within metamorphosis stages).
Weight: 228 lbs
Build: Leaned, Lanky
Hair Color: Black
Eye Color: Fel Green
- Dual “serpent” stripes inked across her face earned from reaching adulthood;
- Novice horns budding from the crown of her head;
- Unusually dark hair;
- Fel blazing eyes, normally obscured with a blindfold made of runecloth;
- Heavy scarring across the width of her throat;
- Forming scales along her shoulders and the tops of her hands.
Ilyraei appears to always be light on her feet, her shoulders hanging freely in a slightly slouched position rather than locked in a straighter, formal one.
With her influence to fel, however, her features have grown to differentiate themselves from her kin. Her flesh has paled, losing its once saturated state— beginning to scale along her shoulders and the tops of her hands. Her hair has done the opposite, becoming darker and darker with each growth. Only several strands of its original silver state can be found along her crown. Horns have also started to take form, remaining small but large enough to protrude through her mess of wild, heavy locks.
Other demonic features may make themselves known when pushed into a certain state of metamorphosis...
Whether exposed or hidden, a thick ban of runic cloth clings to this Kaldorei's face, providing a sense of a border between ever-burning optics and the world laid about before them.
When this Kaldorei's throat is visible, it is clear that a serious wound had taken place well within her past. Each line and rip has been healed, fusing her once torn asunder column whole again, though at a fraction of the pale beauty it once was. The injury was far beyond skin deep, damaging the chords beneath the canvas as well.
Before her demonic influence, Ilyraei was stricken of her speech, leaving her to be a mute within the world. Now, however, she is capable of speech though her tone is raspy and harsh, often breaking in times of over use and exposure to dry elements. Through the use of fel, she is able to project a voice though it is not of her original one; bearing a resemblance to the Shivarra housed within her body. This, however, is a rare occurrence and is not usually noted in public.
Hobbies: Pacing; brooding; wondering what one may have sacrificed in comparison to her.
Quirks: Other than remaining fairly silent by choice, Ilyraei has an unusual fixation with biting on and picking her teeth with throwing needles. Any toxins thereon have long since grown to be familiar to her immune system, fel presence aside, and no longer stop her in indulging in her strange itches. Not to mention, the general reaction of such is enough to tickle her funny bone — whatever she has left of one, at least.
Goals: With the repelling of the Burning Legion, this demon hunter now looks to rekindle her original goals and pledges towards the Alliance of the whole. She hopes to rid Azeroth completely of its foes and enemies, restoring peace to her kin and to her kin’s allies with the help of her sacrificial gifts.
Fears: Most fears have been removed from her mind entirely, though with her caged demonic soul, Ilyraei only fears the aspect of losing control in the sense of fully becoming her demon or giving it the upper hand and bringing about her own demise.
Weaknesses: Aside from the standard weaknesses and openings that leather attire creates, she is particularly weak towards anything that is mind-altering (or runs the chance of being so). This percent of chance, however, is moderately low and is not an immediate concern for herself.
Her personality is best described as calloused. She is not the most friendly on an impression basis and may remain that way for quite some time without a conscious effort of diving past the rough exterior. By trade and ingrained habit, Ilyraei is a quiet creature. Conversation is often kept to a minimal, sometimes only occurring out of necessity, even after regaining the ability to speak at all.
Despite this, she is not particularly malice by nature or striking out for the sake of entertainment. Her heart has not been entirely lost beneath the weight of her conflicting souls, and it is still possible for such to be warmed or for her mouth to curl in a pleasing smile. Fellow Illidari are often spoiled with this side of her, as are fellow Kaldorei if they are permitting of her presence within the area. She, however, struggles to adjust and to adapt to the other allied races of the Alliance, often knowing not to do with herself or how to meet an individual on an eye-to-eye level (theoretically, of course). Her enlistments with the 141st Assault Group and the Citrine Eagle have been a baby step towards that goal, though.
Swift and silent.
That is how it has always been, even in the very beginning.
As a child, words had been few and far between, developing in their own right of monitored silence and imitation. As a young adult, the becoming female traded those rare ushered words and smiles for angst, though such a conversion was hardly surprising for such a youthful age. Upon reaching adulthood, that discomfort of the world around her came to earn her a pair of blades — her very own set, encased with polished handles of engraved ivory.
The Sentinel call came to fall on open ears during the beginning of the Third War and soon after, pearlescent skin became burdened with standard silver and violet armor. Hair, once wild and silver, was sheared into a much more manageable length in consequence, always collected into a single braid at the nape of her neck.
She had looked the part for war, but her body and mind was just as inexperienced as the blades at her hips.
Training had gone as well as it could have, but then again, training always paled in comparison to war. The battlefield was restless, never stalling to peace or silence; remaining as death's toll only continued to grow. While the Sentinels have always been revered for their prowess, not every warrior was the same, and Ilyraei struggled to remain within the mold. She was fearful, developing a never ending paranoia — over every outcome before her eyes, every what-if imaginable, every enemy seen and unseen. She feared for it all.
The Sentinels were revered for much. She - along with her numerous kin - knew such but they were far from perfect and in the instance of Ilyraei's squad, they were overrun and unmatched, thanks to the gifting powers of demonic blood and Orcish might.
Wounds had been made. Lives had been lost.
Her throat was easily torn asunder by persuasive worg teeth, and by staying alive, she paid the price of her unreadiness with her voice.
Swift and silent she would forever be...
Until the uprising of the Demon Hunters claimed her world.