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Liz, a.k.a. Shaktiri

Shaktiri-1

Talent & Race
Forsaken Warlock (Level 80)
Professions
Cooking, Herbalism & Tailoring
Guild & Rank
Honoured Tribesmate in The Burning Tusk Tribe
RP Profession
Hostess of The Burning Tusk Tavern
Server
Moon Guard


Character ProfileEdit

Current InfoEdit

Currently Shaktiri has been promoted and is considered an Honoured Tribesmate in the Burning Tusk Tribe. She hangs around and bartends in Silvermoon sometimes.  Her brainchild, the Burning Tusk Tavern is currently being hosted by other tribesmates, Morvelaira and Dunerok, (Usually Thursday nights @ 9:30pm in Shattrath), while she furthers her "warlock training" (IRL changes).  However the Tribe still holds many RP events which she enjoys participating in.

Character Description Edit

What's left of Shaktiri's pale skin is thin and flimsy, lines of stitches run in various directions over her arms and across her chest. She has the body of a starved young woman's corpse, and her spine is slightly curved, causing her to hunch over when she walks, as most forsaken do. She generally has a strong hazelnut or vanilla perfume on, to help mask the scent of decay. Her legs are never showing, always hidden beneath a skirt or robe, though sometimes she goes barefoot, and her toes always have the nails painted in rainbow order, usually Red, orange, green, blue and purple. Though her current lower jawbone does not appear to line up exactly the same as her upper jaw, she is almost always smiling. She has no actual eyeballs, but her eyesockets glow with the same dark magic as the rest of her people. There are a few scab marks and small holes around the upper half of her face, like something has been crawling out and back in...

Shaktiri's History Edit

Shaktiri woke up in a heavy stone coffin within the large mausoleum in the center of Brill. After freeing herself from the actual coffin, Shaktiri finally realized her undead state when she caught sight of her bony hands in the small bit of moonlight that came through a few cracks in the old walls. Her terror threw her into a catatonic state for days.
Whether she was hallucinating or not she still doesn't know, but she started seeing the shadows move on their own. Then, they began whispering to her, in her mind. They promised her things, promised to keep her safe, to make her so powerful no one could touch her. They promised she'd never be alone again. When she finally surrendered her mind completely, on the brink of crumbling apart physically and psychically, the shadows absorbed into her body, forcing her to move towards the door, and stumble out into the cemetery where the local deathguards spotted her and came to help her.
Shaktiri spent the next year living in Brill, working as Innkeeper Renee's assistant in exchange for room and board at the Gallows' End Tavern. She never ventured beyond the borders of Tirisfal Glades. When the shadow whispers returned in her head, they led her to her first teacher of the dark arts, the local town warlock, Rupert Boch, who eventually sent her on to her mentor in Undercity, Kaal Soulreaper, an Orc warlock. Learning from him helped Shaktiri grow accustomed to the other horde races.
As Shaktiri's powers grew, so did her confidence. When she and Renee began to argue over how the inn was run (Ale, shaktiri would often point out, would bring in much more profit and help "liven up" the place. Renee was set in her bitter, gloomy ways and constantly refused her ideas, though the patrons often brought in ale of their own), Shaktiri finally decided it was time to move out.
Tired of Tirisfal's dark mood, Shaktiri finally took her first zepplin to Orgimmar, and rented a small hut by the pond and orphanage. She spent most of her first months there sitting on top of the bank roof, afraid she'd be crushed by a kodo at any moment. After overhearing many good things being said about the Burning Tusks while she sat on that roof, Shaktiri applied to join the Burning Tusk Tribe.

Shaktiri's Stories Edit

Nip-Tuck Edit

Shaktiri entered the laboratory slowly and quietly. The only noise she made came from the cheap wooden cane in her right hand hitting the cold stone of the dungeon floor. The room held no other person, but it was far from empty. Potions bubbled and simmered in the alchemy lab set up on the desk. Hooks and chains hanging from the ceiling clinked back and forth as the drafty air from the sewers above squeezed in through old holes in the crumbling walls. Attached to some of the chains were various abomination limbs, intestines, heads. One head blinked repeatedly but said nothing.

The undead woman shuddered and moved closer to the chair set-up in the middle of the room for “patients.” After a few minutes, Shaktiri heard a horrific scream, then the sound of a door opening, and a low sobbing which eventually muffled as the door shut again. Into the room from that door came another undead, this time male. He placed a set of jagged scissors on the counter, wiping the blood off the blades with a piece of cloth. Finally noticing he had company, the man pushed his dark hood off his head and peered at her, till he recognized who she was and relaxed, grinning wickedly and moving a stool for himself next to the Patient chair, across from her.

“Good to see you again Miss Shaktiri, how’s the jawbone?” He asked, patting the metallic surface as an invitation to her. Shaktiri bowed her head and then moved up onto the table, leaning the cane against its side and holding her bag in her lap.

“Thank you Apothecary Farrel. It’s doing much better than the last one. Nice and tight.” She opened her mouth wide to show him. He glanced inside and nodded, “Mmhm.”

“The thing is…I need another replacement.” Shaktiri sighed, gripping her skirt with one hand.

“Oh? Don’t tell me you let your felguard shatter something else?” Farrel asked, smirking arrogantly. Shaktiri glared and shook her head, lifting up her skirt to reveal her right shin-bone.

“The flesh just fell off while I was riding Wally. Here, I brought another with me.” She pulled a leather-wrapped parcel from her bag. Farrel took and unwrapped it. Then he examined the piece, holding it up to the firelight.

“You know if you keep bringing me corpse flesh for replacements they’re just going to decompose faster. Why don’t I have Keever get you a fresh one?” Farrel asked rhetorically, turning his head to call for the other Apothecary. “KE—“

“NO!" Shaktiri stopped him, grabbing his shoulder quickly. Startled, she pulled back. “I, I’m sorry. But I don’t….I…It hasn’t come to that yet. Please.” Shaktiri gestured to the flesh she had brought with her.

Farrel shrugged and shook his head, “Fine. But at some point you’re going to be all bones and no skin, and you are going to have to let me do something more drastic if you plan on staying in this plane of existence.” He scolded her as he moved over to the alchemy set, mixing ingredients into a bowl and bringing it back with him to the table.

“This glue should hold it in place, just avoid coming in contact with Acid or going for a swim in the sewage for at least a month.” He cackled as he began the procedure.

Shaktiri stayed silent, gazing up at the ceiling, dreading what “something more drastic” would require.

Awbee's Scale Edit

Shaktiri gulped, or at least, mimicked a gulp.  Saliva was hard to come by when you're dead, but the instinctive motion remained.  She stared at the wide opening of the cave, swarming with armored blue dragonkin.  Here she'd been fighting their kind for months up in Northrend, and now one poor, dying little hatchling named Awbee expected her to bring his scale to this "matron" of the blue dragons, Haleh?  Thank the shadows he didn't ask her to take the thing all the way to Malygos himself!
So here, on this blistering cold wintery day as was usual in Winterspring, Shaktiri gripped the scale in one hand, spell book in the other, and moved to enter the cave. She'd dealt with some of these dragons before, a long, long time ago, even before she had left for Outlands for further training.  They weren't really much of a match for her or for Tom, one on one.  But a full cave of them pissed at her?  That could be very bad.  She tucked away her sword in her bag,  trying to at least try and be peaceful.  Unfortunately, one armored guard recognized the scale in her hand and hissed loudly, something that sounded close to "Murderer!"
He charged forward, sword above his head.  The other dragonkin watched but did not move.  Shaktiri sighed, reluctant to harm him, but before she could make a decision Tom, her felguard, dashed ahead and struck the attacker down with a slash from his deadly axe.  Dark blood splattered across the snow, where each drop froze, like tiny, accusing beads.  The other dragonkin glared, some of the littlest ones flew to their fallen companion, squeaking in a language Shaktiri  wasn't meant to understand.
She murmured.  He knew it wasn't a suggestion.  As his essence evaporated from her plane of existence, Shaktiri tucked the scale into her pocket and then held up her hands, attempting to calm the situation, one last time.  All this for the dying request of the very thing she was supposed to be fighting, that was supposed to be tearing her apart because she dared to use magic.  Maybe it was the look on her face, of desperation and confusion, or just the gesture of sending away the true "killer," but the dragons quieted, and though they continued glaring, none tried to oppose her as she finally entered the cave.
Shaktiri stuck to the walls, carefully avoiding the smaller dragons, even eye contact with them.  After twists and turns, she came to the largest cavern, at the very end.  Two mature dragons flew back and forth, from the citizens of Everlook Shaktiri had gathered they were called "Scryer" and "Manaclaw."  Just beyond the second dragon, she could see a small glowing rune circle on the ground.  This would be the circle she'd have to reach, Awbee told her, in order to see The Matron.  Shaktiri reached into her pocket, this time wrapping her fingers around a soulshard.  Should they attack, Tom could be there in seconds, if she had that long.
Cautiously, Shaktiri stepped into the room.  When they spotted her, both Scryer and Manaclaw roared ferociously and came towards her, landing side by side, blocking her way to the rune circle. Her mind whispered.  But as her hand brushed against the little dragon's scale in her pocket, she released the soulshard, and pulled out that piece of Awbee instead. 
His death, the deaths of all the blue dragons, of all the dragons, it wasn't right.  The record in the Halls of Stone said the dragons were created to watch over life on Azeroth, but here she was watching over one of their own in death.  The cycle had been corrupted, and the deaths of two more dragons certainly would not fix it.  Confused and frustrated, Shaktiri fell to her knees on the cold, stony floor.
  She cried out, "I must see Haleh!  He told me to see Haleh!" Shaktiri held out the scale above her head, a twinge of despair clear in her voice.  Over her, the dragons both moved back at hearing the name "Haleh."  The one called Manaclaw brought his head down, dangerously close to Shaktiri, but only sniffed at the scale she held.  When she finally had the courage to raise her own head, Shaktiri found the two dragons had parted, and were now sitting on either sides of the rune circle.  They almost looked bored, like they had been waiting for her for hours.  Shaktiri rose, feeling slightly less tense, but not much, and made her way towards the circle.  Just before stepping onto the runes, she stopped, and bowed to both dragons.  One of them, Scryer, almost looked like he bobbed his head, but just barely.  Shaktiri giggled nervously and stepped onto the circle, closing her eyes.
A sharp, condescending voice spoke as she opened her eyes again.  Shaktiri found herself outside though still in what looked like Winterspring.  As she looked over the side of the ledge she found herself on, she could barely make out what appeared to be the front of the cave she had entered barely an hour ago.  She gasped and quickly moved back against the side of the mountain.  Heights had never been her specialty.  As she focused on the huge treetops in front of her, she discovered the owner of the voice, a petite blood elf woman in a formal blue gown.  Though she looked like any other elf Shaktiri had come across, her piercing blue eyes had a depth to them no true elf, dead or alive, could match. 
"Are...are you Haleh?" Shaktiri asked, still gripping the edge of the mountain.  The woman at the edge of the cliff rolled her special eyes at Shaktiri and nodded.  "You'd never have made it to that rune circle if I wasn't, Shaktiri." Haleh responded.  Shaktiri's mouth dropped open, but she refrained from asking the obvious, accepting that dragonkin seemed to know a lot more than they ever cared to explain.  Shaktiri held out the scale,   Haleh took the scale, her expression softening as she gently caressed it in her palm.  Neither woman spoke for a few moments, then Haleh looked at Shaktiri, smiling bittersweetly.
Haleh added, then paused.
  Haleh raised her eyebrow, smirking, almost daring Shaktiri to say no.  Again, Shaktiri gulped instinctively.
Something in Haleh's eyes flashed, and she continued explaining the next task Shaktiri would have to face.
"It is the arcane that I control and the arcane which will send you to your next destination.  When you are ready, the journey will begin. To the Plaguelands you will go and to Jeziba you will speak. He is a mortal as wise as the ancients and as patient as the immovable earth. Find him in Andorhal."  Haleh instructed her.
Shaktiri cocked her head,   She thought to herself.  Haleh smirked at her again, and Shaktiri worried she could read thoughts like some of the others.
She barely had time to nod again before Haleh suddenly SHOVED her off the Cliff! Shaktiri screamed, figuring she was about to hit the ground and become one shattered pile of bones.  She closed her eyes and waited for the end, images of Gristlemouth and Taprion and Eli and Renee and the tribe all rushing through her mind.
SPLASH! Shaktiri opened her eyes, but when she opened her mouth to scream again it began filling with water.  Instinctively she started to swim towards what she thought was up.  Finally breaking the surface, she spit out as much water as she could and looked around, finding a shore to swim to.  Not noticing anyone around, she quickly tossed off most of her soaked armor and sparked a small fire to huddle by as she dried off.
Finally dried and wearing the extra robe she kept in her bag just in case of maggot or fungus infestation on her usual one, Shaktiri magically summoned her riding kodo, Wally, using the spell her riding instructor had given her.  She mounted up, and led Wally up over the hills that had been blocking the lakeshore from the surrounding area.  Once finally over the hills, Shaktiri gasped in disbelief.  Haleh had shoved her all the way across continents, just outside Andorhal!!
Shaktiri muttered a few choice swears, leading Wally over the hills around the far edge of the village.  If she couldn't find this Jeziba on her own, she figured Chromie might know. In fact, she did have an elf friend with her last time Shaktiri had been there, looking for Chromie's help in sending Araj back to his phylactery.  Shaktiri never had gotten that elf's name...
"Greetings Shaktiri!" Chromie squeaked, waving as the forsaken woman entered the room.  Shaktiri waved, "Good to see you again Chromie."
Smiling shyly, Shaktiri turned to the male blood elf in the room, Both Chromie and the elf nodded.
"I am Jeziba, known to many as the Sculptor.  What I sculpt, however, are not statues, but heroes."  Jeziba introduced himself. 
Looking Shaktiri up and down, he commented, "A finer instrument of justice, Haleh could not have chosen. Read from the catalogue of the wayward and be enlightened."  He gestured to the book on the nightstand by him.
Jeziba assured her, placing a hand over hers as she moved past him to look at the book. Charmed, Shaktiri giggled and pulled her hand away slowly, sitting down on the bed and opening up the book to read.
Most of the book was made up of hundreds upon hundreds of pages filled with garbled text and symbols.  The most she could understand was that the book told of dragons uniting against Deathwing.  From what Shaktiri could make out, the chromatic dragonflight had almost been unleashed upon the world.  The Aspects were prepared.
"Jeziba?  I want to help fight the black dragonflight, for Awbee, for everyone.  I'm sure my tribesmates would too.  Could I...could I bring this book to show them, please?"  Finished with the parts she could understand, Shaktiri had rose from the bed, holding the book against her chest.  She bit her lip anxiously as she looked up at the elf.  He smiled that same devilsih grin at her.
Jeziba patted her on the arm, sending her off.  Chromie waved goodbye as Shaktiri made her way down the stairs and outside the crumbling inn, where she used her hearthstone to teleport quickly back to Dalaran where she could keep her new treasure safe in the bank vault.

Roomates Edit

Shaktiri wafted the smoke away from the grill, trying to keep it from gathering under the big red striped umbrella.  Once the air cleared she stood there, hands on her hips, staring down at the former steaks, now looking more like burnt jerky.

“Guess ogre meat cooks faster than gnome.” She commented to no one in particular.  Sighing, Shaktiri walked over and sat down on the steps of her wide hut, grabbing a book and quill and ink from the chest in the corner.  She scribbled out a few lines then began fixing the recipe.

“SURPRISE!” yelled the glowing skull in front of her face.  Startled, Shaktiri scooted backwards up the steps, till the tauren behind the skull came into clear view.   Both dead things, the skull and the bull, laughed loudly as Shaktiri finally stood up and glared at them.

“Dammit Gris that wasn’t funny.”  She pouted.  Gristlemouth just shrugged and dug into his bag, pulling out another skull, this one lifeless.

“Brought you another.”  He said, tossing it up to her.  Shaktiri smiled again, relaxing, then stuck out her tongue at the glowing skull now hovering next to the death knight’s ear, whispering. Shaktiri took the gift and pushed the empty hole on the back of the lifeless skull onto the last wooden spike along the stair railing.  She stood back to look at the two parallel rows of skulls, then a thought came to her, and Shaktiri quickly wandered off to one of the small grassy patches in between the ruin walls.  Used to her flightiness, Gristle didn’t really pay much attention, just tossed off his bags and went to take her former spot on the stairs.   The wood groaned under his hooves, but stayed intact.  

When Shaktiri returned, she had a bunch of purple lotuses and dreamfoils in her arms.  Gristle eyed her suspiciously, “Those aren’t going in my mane again.”  He stated.  She giggled and shook her head, “Not this time!” she responded.  She moved towards the banister and began arranging the flowers together in the eye-sockets of each skull.  Tired of the whisperings, Gristle grabbed his floating undead pet across the mouth and stuffed him into one of his bags.  When Shaktiri moved up the stairs to finish the last couple skulls, he grabbed her around the waist, lifted her up effortlessly and sat her down across his lap sideways.

Shaktiri giggled and poked his chest.  “I wasn’t fini—“ Gristle stopped her fussing by kissing her soundly.  The two pulled apart as the sound of thunder echoed across the sky above.  “Uh oh,”  The big tauren muttered, gently lifting Shaktiri off his lap to stand up, then reached out and picked up the large sack he had left on the ground outside just as gently.  He brought it inside while the first few drops of rain came down.  Glancing inside, he then held it out to Shaktiri.  

“What is it?”  She asked, tacking up some cloth to cover the gaps where walls would usually be.  Gris rolled his eyes and pulled out a carrier case.  He fumbled with the latch but finally opened it, reaching inside to gently extract a small sleepy eyed white kitten which barely stretched across his palm.  Shaktiri gasped and picked up the kitten which mewed at her.  She cradled it in her arm and went over to rustle through the chest, pulling out a bottle of milk.  Both undead creatures sat down, huddling close together in the just-barely wide enough hut, watching the kitten drink from the bowl of milk Shaktiri poured and placed in front of her.  Finally full, the kitten crawled across her owner’s skirt and fell asleep in her lap.

“Where did you find her!”  Shaktiri asked, cuddling up against Gristle’s soft and furry arm.  He grinned wickedly,

“Stormwind.”  He told her.  She looked up at him, eyebrow raised.

“It’s true!  I was bored.  Found some kid with that carrier in the canals.  Managed to snag the cat, push the kid off the bridge, and ride my ass out to the harbor.”  Shaktiri giggled, then looked out towards the abandoned grill, “Oh are you hungry?” She asked.  
Gristle just shook his head.  “Everything I need is right here.”  He told her, putting his arm over Shaktiri’s shoulder and pulling her closer while he leaned back against the corner roof support.  As Shaktiri's giggle led into a yawn, watching the rain outside, listening to the soothing patter sounds on the roof, she knew she couldn’t agree more.  

Contact Info Edit

Real Name: Liz

AIM: Shaktiri

GMail: Stevenslovephoenix@gmail.com

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/Shaktiri.Elloka

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