Cethlenn

=Physical Description= Cethlenn is a very small girl, made smaller by her battlegear which often fits poorly over her frail frame. She's the archetype of a magic user in that regard; it's doubtful she could ever lift anything heavier than her sword in combat.

The warlock has a very plain face, round eyes set on an oval frame. Instead of beauty, the effect is that of someone being continuously shocked by something. In fact, the girl looks terrified at whatever subject matter is brought up, from battle plans to casual conversation (especially the latter). Her hair is short, black and reaches to about her chin. Tucking her bangs behind her ears has become somewhat of a nervous habit.

=Personality= Cethlenn is incredibly nervous. When speaking to new people - or in groups larger than two- she constantly stutters and stops, tugging at her sleeves...or hair... or fingers...anything appropriately in reach which can distract her. Public speaking is a nightmare, and she'll likely hover on the outskirts of a gathering rather than participate in it.

She tries to be nice, though she's incredibly awkward about it - she'll never hesitate to stop what she's doing to offer assistance to a clanmate, as terrified as she might act around them. She's honest enough in her intentions, and it's doubtful she ever has an ulterior motive.

That isn't to say Cethlenn lacks a negative streak. If someone offends her, she'll typically hold the grudge for longer than ever deemed necessary. She definitely has issues with other Forsaken and is able to break out of her own agoraphobic shell to be absolutely snide towards them. Death Knights as a recent example have earned her ire.

=History= Cethlenn Cunningham was born to a poor servant family in northern Silverpine; in specific, her mother was a maid, and her father tilled the farm land. They worked for a fairly wealthy merchant house and, up until the Scourge invasion, lead a perfectly well-to-do life.

Upon waking as a member of the Forsaken, Cethlenn promptly had a pout as sixteen year old girls are wont to do. This was of course followed by adolescent angst which luckily cleared up upon her joining a mercenary group known as the Ebonguarde. It was co-lead by a friend of hers from life, a man by the name of William Renn - now known as Apollo - and seemed a fitting place for her to begin her new unlife.

She wasn't very good at the dark arts. She was lucky enough if she could summon her imp without its head on backwards and was more prone to tripping over her own feet than properly casting a shadowbolt. Concerned he introduced her to the leader of the organization, a warlock named Castille who was powerful in his own right.

This was, by all means, the exact thing which Apollo shouldn't have done. Castille kept his hands out of the majority of the organization out of a lack of empathy and general disinterest in anyone but himself and his two officers, Trebaruna and Apollo. No one including Apollo knew Trebaruna anyway, she was always out in the field doing fel-knows-what, and so their guild dealings were typically with Apollo. Still, it was an attempt to make Castille at least acknowledge those under his hand, and Apollo really did mean well.

Castille took one look at Cethlenn and agreed to the idea of taking her on as an apprentice. He and Apollo held a disturbingly-short conversation on the matter, after which Cethlenn was shuttled away to the leader's private quarters. Apollo would later remark at how curiously his leader and the young girl resembled one another.

About eight months passed. Cethlenn does not remember what occurred under Castille's tutelage. What little she does recall is limited to voices, typically orders, and someone in a foreign tongue praising the might of an empire.

The next thing Cethlenn recalls is waking on a cot, the desert winds of Silithus whistling angrily around her tent. There were guards at the mouth of it, which she found strange, though not as strange as the Forsaken finery which surrounded her. Whatever she had been doing, it had resulted in opulence.

Power, too. she was suddenly very adept at her craft, and far be it for her to question the sudden gift of battle. She was happy just to be able to keep up with her peers. As she was snapping her fingers, observing the fel fire that poured forth from the action, someone swept open the curtain which served as a door to her tent.

It was Castille, dressed in necromantic finery - battlegear which mimicked the purples and greens of her own. He smiled at her, which she immediately found frightening - though she wasn't sure why - and he ordered her, his 'dearest sister', to join him at the front lines. There was a battle going, he continued, which would provide as much honor as it would gold. She would learn later that indeed, she and Castille were related. Half-siblings through their father; more than that, she had a sister by the name of Trebaruna.

Things from there are a rush - she assisted the Ahn'Qiraj War Effort as the Shadow Bishop of the Ebonguarde. She didn't remember earning the title but it fit, what with her tendency to sling Shadow spells, and she was not about to question her fellows or her new-found brother. Even though she was missing a vast chunk of time from her mind, what did that matter? She had a family now, she had a place and power.

Three weeks later the company ventured into the heart of Ahn'Qiraj. The further they went into the temple, the more nervous Cethlenn found herself. As the days went by she began to wonder what, exactly, she was forgetting. Castille suddenly becoming social didn't phase her - she hadn't been around long enough to understand its implications.

Apollo was more suspicious about it; where Castille appeared, trauma often followed. He was loyal enough and had been since the beginning, but Castille had the tendency to discard things, after they ceased to be useful. The Ebonguarde itself had gone through a startling amount of members: many had been destroyed in Molten Core and the Blackwing Lair to the point which no priest would be able to revive them. Castille never seemed to care. Cethlenn hadn't been present for either places, however, and his concerns went unheeded.At least until the Ebonguarde approached the heart of the Temple and looked into the very eye of a God.

The casualties were numerous, even compared to Castille's previous tally. Cethlenn, fervently empathetic and even attached to the lower-ranking members of the company, found herself appalled. Moreso when Apollo acted against Castille, attempting to rally his people against the warlock himself.

Cethlenn began to realize she was part of something much bigger than an organization after Castille, who without even a tremor, ordered everyone - including those on Apollo's side - to tear the young man apart. And when they did with gusto, she wondered just how much the Ebonguarde had in common with the Cults which littered Azeroth.

When Castille decided enough had been done to aid the fight against C'thun and the Qiraji, he ordered the Ebonguarde to back up and head to the Eastern Plaguelands. Cethlenn, having become increasingly more paranoid and nervous through the months spent in Ahn'Qiraj, exclaimed that she would stay in the desert if it would so please Castille, of course, and continue research on the Qiraji in her own time. Suspicious though he may have been, he allowed the warlock to wander off on her own - with the promise that she would return some day to the Ebonguarde. She agreed.

For a year Cethlenn remained in the desert, earning herself a name among the Cenarion Circle as a scholar of Qiraji history and societal behavior. When she returned to proper society, she found the Ebonguarde all but defunct and Castille nowhere to be seen. When the leader had tried to contact her, she had made herself scarce; she left the Cenarion Enclave entirely, creating a small out of the way camp far into the deserts of Silithus. Though it terrified her to put her trust in another organization, she had seen the tabard of the Tears of Draenor about and found herself interested. She requested an audience and hoped for the best.

From there, she became a Hopeful and found herself surrounded by people who were most definitely not the Ebonguarde - their actions and intent were true and though she remained skittery and nervous she began to find joy in the Clan. Though she was related to no one, they were family enough, and Cethlenn wouldn't have it any other way.