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nara-blythewood · 4 years
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And yet, even so, you persist in reaching out for them. Why?
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nara-blythewood · 4 years
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She had thought it earlier in the evening, and she still thought it now: Coming here and being forced to trek down the Dead Scar was a form of a cruel and unusual punishment. Now, even years after the conflict, the Scar brought forth no life. Even now, the bones were too numerous to count or even collect for a proper burial.
Once at the Enclave, the treasure hunter spent a few hours gazing at the lake and smoking her cigarettes. On occasion, her eye would squint over the horizon. The lands had changed since that day, but not so much to be completely unrecognizable. She supposed that was the worst part about being back. In fact, she was certain that her former home had been close to the Enclave which made her want to crawl out of her own skin. The elf, like many others of her ilk, had participated in a mass ceremony after the fact. It had been a ceremony to say goodbye, to remember the fallen, to honor their sacrifice. Feralas, in her capacity as a Farstrider, had even received a metal that day for her ‘sacrifice’. As if a scrap of ribbon attached to a silly, iron coin made anything better.
It was the ash on the soles of her boot and the crunch of brittle bone that was the most startling at first, and the only thing from this evening that stood out in her mind. Had she been prudent at the time when she discovered her home had been razed and her entire bloodline cut away from Azeroth, she guessed she would have taken the time to bury them. Hind site was twenty-twenty, though. But, when she called a spade a spade, she knew she had not been prudent and, in the chaos, she had thought only of herself. She was good at that.
However, she held no illusions that she was the only one who was haunted by this place. Feralas watched one more smoke wreathe whirl from her lips before she flicked what was left of her cigarette into the flickering brazier. She decided to keep herself busy and, the next morning, the Sunreavers awoke to a breakfast of cured lox, scrambled eggs, and fresh fruit.
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nara-blythewood · 5 years
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nara-blythewood · 5 years
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nara-blythewood · 5 years
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A Snapshot & Description
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Her raven hair stood out sharply against the backdrop of the Voldun dunes.
It whipped sharply around her face as she drove her “Deathwheel”, a goblin engineered automobile that ran on two continuous bands of  treads instead of traditional tires.  It made far too much noise for her liking, but she had to be honest, it made getting through the sand easy.
A few droplets of salty dew collected in the outer corners of her eyes as a hot gust of wind blew an exorbitant amount of sand in her face. Once the wind died down though, she lit a cigarette. Nothing, not even the wind or the sand, could keep her from indulging in her habit. It was a nice reprieve, and she took the time to check her compass. The oasis was, by her estimate, half a mile away.
By the time she reached Whistlebloom Oasis, she was ready for a drink and so was the Deathwheel judging from the plumes of smoke coming up from the radiator. But it could wait. The crystal clear oasis pools looked so welcoming and cool. As she neared the waters, she looked over her shoulder before shimmying out of her clothes. However, she allowed a slow chuckle to escape her lips. In truth, she didn’t mind being caught in such a vulnerable state. It wasn’t often anyone got to see the artwork that covered her body. The treasure hunter fondly patted at her hip where her most fond tattoo was located; an intricate looking rose that was only found in the lower wilds of Feralas.
Just as she submerged herself into the crisp water and allowed her shoulders to relax, she heard her communication device chirp. The Silvermoon nobles made good use of enchanted devices, and of course the communication devices were no exception.
“Feralas speaking.”
The image of the stern faced Magistrix appeared in the stone.
“Your shipment was supposed to be here three nights ago. Where are you?”
At that moment, the treasure hunter’s foot slipped on the slick embankment and she nearly tumbled into the water again.
“I got held up. But, you know how it is. It takes time to find the best wares, and the nobles of Silvermoon get the best.” ‘Better than they deserve’, she thought to herself.
“Nara--”
The treasure hunter visibly wilted at the name. “Please don’t call me that.”
The Magistrix’s brows knitted together in ire. “I know you don’t like to be called that. But, you’re a Blythewood by title. You’ll always be a Blythewood, despite what happened. And, because you’re a Blythewood, I’ve given you the benefit of the doubt. Be here by this time tomorrow night, or the deal is off. How am I supposed to run a shop without any goods?”
The rogue cringed again, but waved the Magistrix’s scolding off. “Alright, alright. I’ll be there.” Then, the communication device went quiet.
With that, she dressed, poured some water back into the radiator, and made her way to the nearest port. She didn’t like the nobles. In fact, she didn’t like anyone. Yet, gold was gold at the end of the day...no matter who she got it from.
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nara-blythewood · 5 years
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Meet Feralas
the basics ––– –
Age: Adult (Older 20s)
Birthday: August 1st
Race: Sin’dorei
Gender: Female
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Marital Status: Single
physical appearance ––– –
Hair: Dark
Eyes: Fel-tainted
Height: 5′7″
Build: Feminine/Athletic 
Distinguishing Marks: Covered eye and a Feralas rose tattoo on her hip. 
Common Accessories: Golden hoops, a lynx-skin bag, and a bronze sigil of a compass inscribed within a blazing sun. The sigil is usually pinned on her chest. 
personal ––– –
Profession: Merchant of fine goods and arts. 
Hobbies: Traveling
Languages: Thalassian, Orcish
Residence: Various inns and/or merchant ships.
Birthplace: The Eastern Kingdoms
Religion: Loosely spiritual
Patron Deity: n/a
Fears: Necromancy, The Scourge
relationships ––– -
S/O: n/a
Children: None
Parents: Deceased
Siblings: Deceased 
Other Relatives: Unknown
Pets: Professor Hobbes, her black cat. 
traits ––– -
Extroverted / In Between / Introverted
Disorganized / In Between / Organized
Close Minded / In Between / Open Minded
Calm / In Between / Anxious
Disagreeable / In Between / Agreeable
Cautious / In Between / Reckless
Patient / In Between /  Impatient
Outspoken / In Between / Reserved
Leader / In Between / Follower
Empathetic / In Between / Apathetic
Optimistic / In Between / Pessimistic
Traditional / In Between / Modern
Hard-working / In Between / Lazy
Cultured / In Between / Uncultured
Loyal / In Between / Disloyal
Faithful / In Between / Unfaithful
additional information ––– –
Smoking Habit: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess.
Drugs: never / sometimes /frequently / to excess.
Alcohol: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess.
rp hooks ––– –
During her childhood, she was a ward of House Blythewood; a small but distinguished noble house whose enemies met violent, yet mysterious deaths.
Horde Veteran. After serving as an operative in several intelligence gathering missions during major conflicts, she has been honorably discharged.
Despite being a Blythewood by title, Lord Blythewood died intestate and produced no blood heirs. As a result, all of his property escheated back to Silvermoon. Feralas was left with nothing. In Sin’dorei society, this has earned her pity or mockery from the other citizens.  
She continues to do economically well for herself even without the cushy backing of her father. After being discharged from military duties, she’s taken up a life of adventure and treasure hunting. She often consigns many of the things she finds to various boutiques in Silvermoon. 
Perhaps she’s doing too well for herself. Her strong aversion towards the guards and other authority in Silvermoon, as well as her presence on Augur's Row, doesn’t help to ease suspicion or rumors. 
Formerly Nara Blythewood, she now goes by a fond nickname. Feralas. 
ooc information ––– –
Please feel free to message me, and we can RP!
I’m up for anything.
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nara-blythewood · 5 years
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Aesthetic || The Captain’s Desk
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nara-blythewood · 5 years
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