|OOC Game Stats|
|Guild||Tears of Draenor|
|Age||equivalent of 24|
Ceitidh is petite, but wiry. She is fairly young, though she does not know her exact age. (she needs to ask her brother.. but forgets..) She doesn't worry much over her appearance, but does try to keep tidy- and presentable in public.
High on her right arm she wears a gold bracelet inscribed with her name.
Tucked in the back of her belt is generally a trollish throwing axe, given to her by her mate, Mez'oa. And slung from her shoulders she carries a large axe- made for her by Kormok.
Orain the dragonhawk goes everywhere with her. He followed her from the time she left the Farstriders to continue her training out in the world. He is very protective of Ceit- and will generally be seen hovering close by her side- or even in front of her. Orain also has a mischievous streak, and at a wink or nod from Ceitidh, will chase after folks, or just dart around to confuse them. He has been introduced to alcohol.. and thinks it's good. But it will cause a bit of...rambunctiousness...
After spending more time closer to the Netherstorm, Orain's colors began to change. Sometimes he is seen orange and red- others red and grey. The brighter colors for lighter hunting or at rest- the darker when facing more difficult prey or when angry.
While in Stranglethorn, Ceitidh became enthralled with the white tiger known as King Bangalash. She spent much time watching him, later letting him get to know her. After more than a month, he finally agreed to hunt with her- leaving one of his progeny behind in his place. He's now known as Righrean- still poised and noble.
At the beginning of her apprenticeship to Kormok, he assigned her a place in Ashenvale to spend time in meditation. After spending a couple hours a day in that spot for a month, the bears in the area became curious. One of them followed her when she left, and across the world. She named him Duinne.
Ceitidh has an easygoing smile, and a generally laid-back attitude. She is quick to laughter, though not as trusting as she once was. More comfortable in the wilds, she is a bit on edge in cities, and avoids Silvermoon as much as possible. She pulls off her boots whenever she can. (no, her toenails are not painted- maybe grass-stained, though.)
She has adopted orcish and trollish habits and perspectives on warfare, honor, and the love of life. Other sin'dorei have to prove themself to her more than other horde members due to the arrogance and duplicity she has seen so often. Warlocks are avoided- there's a long history there, and she generally will not discuss it. But in general she is open to accepting others- as long as they accept her and those she cares for as well.
Becoming Kormok's apprentice was a proud moment for her, and she wishes it could have lasted longer. Of any title she has, that's her favorite.
Whenever the darkness of war gets her down, Ceit goes to visit Sullindill- and is one of the twins' favorite babysitters.
Ceitidh is the youngest child of Iainn and Ealasiad Alarion- minor nobility- but also dedicated defenders of their land.
Growing up, she learned an appreciation for nature, and was known to spend much of her time outdoors. She also became an accomplished archer- to the point that when she came of age she was allowed to go with her parents on raids against the scourge.
One such raid changed everything. Ceitidh was in the rear with the other archers, but the front lines were broken through. Undead abominations poured in around them, forcing all into close combat. Others said that Ceitidh had been swept up in the press- wielding a discarded sword, and using her bow as a staff.
When the battle was over, Ceitidh was nowhere to be found. The Alarions had to return home and tell her siblings, including oldest brother, Dorrion, that she was lost- probably dead.
Ceitidh had run far, leaving many corpses in her path- yet trying to outrun those that would certainly overcome her. Eventually, she came to an older part of the forest- bordered by troll ruins. Only one pursuer was left- and her last arrow ended the fight. Overcome by exhaustion and a number of wounds, Ceitidh fainted, falling into a deep sleep, lasting more than a day. Her dreams were troubled, finally being locked away, so she remembered no more.
Most of the next week was spent in and out of consciousness. When she finally woke fully, she had no idea where- or even who she was. The only clue she had was a simple golden bracelet high on her arm. The outside was engraved with her name- Ceitidh.
((from Hunt for the Song))
“Next I knew it was dawn, and there was a squirrel pulling on my hair. I got up to look around, and found my legs were scratched and bruised. I could still walk, though slowly. There were no signs of anyone else nearby. At least not recently. It looked like there had been others through- a scrap of cloth stuck to a tree by an arrow- a slightly rusted dagger… But these were faded and weathered.”
“I tried to recall where I was- what had happened, but I could not. All I had was a vague feeling of pain, visions of a struggle, but nothing more. Everything beyond when I woke was gone. My own name even eluded me. I looked through the clothes I wore, torn and dirty, and found nothing. All I had was this bracelet I still wear- This at least tells my name.”
The elf holds up her arm, a circlet on her wrist glinting gold in the sunlight. Etched across the surface are runes reading “Ceitidh” She takes it off and turns it over in her hand. “But that was all. There was nothing to tell me more, and I could not remember anything before that day.” With a soft sigh, the hunter outs the bracelet back on, pushing it snugly up her arm.
“So I wandered in the forest. I followed what trails I could find. Every trail led to a dead end- often literally, with the decaying corpses of scourge, kal’dorei, and even sin’dorei. Most looked as though they had been there for months, if not years.”
“I wandered like this for weeks on end. I knew some fruits and berries that were edible, and found roots and nuts as well. My long hair had become a tangled mess, so I was forced to chop it all off with a weathered sword I’d found. Since then I keep it short for convenience, mostly.” Ceitidh chuckles, and shakes her head, letting her black tresses fly in the sunlight.
“Of course, I wasn’t the only one living in the forest.” The elven lass grins over at her reptilian companion. “The animals got used to me being there, and knew I wasn’t going to hurt them. Some mornings, I’d wake to find a squirrel with a pile of nuts chattering beside me. As darkness fell, I could look to the trees and see an owl watching over me. When the weather became colder, I’d be awoken during the night by the purring of a great lynx, curled up next to me for warmth.”
“It really wasn’t all that bad of a life. I was comfortable- except for the nagging question of who I was, and how I got there. This lasted for several months.”
“Then one morning I knew something was different. The animals were nervous. We could all tell there was a new presence in the forest. I could hear sounds that seemed familiar- though I knew I’d not heard them for some time.”
Orain hopped off his stump and waddled closer to Ceitidh, head tipped to one side as if listening intently. She chuckled and continued her story.
“They were voices. Sin’dorei voices carried on the wind. I ran to meet them, hoping that perhaps whoever it was would know me. It was a party of Farstriders, scouting the woods. They were amazed to see me- but none knew who I could be.”
“Traveling with them, I proved to be a reliable and useful guide. I told them all I knew- all I had seen in the forest, and led them to the places I had seen. They told me that the woods were a source of constant raids and skirmishes, but they had not heard of any within the past year. If I had been part of a raid, I was the only sin’dorei that had survived.”
The dragonhawk laid his head on the girl’s leg, and she patted it fondly. “So I lived and trained there with the Farstriders for two years, before they said I was ready to set out on my own for more training.
A reptilian grin met Ceitidh’s smile, and she laughed heartily. “Yes, my Orain, that’s when I met you.”
She scratched at his head, and leaned her own against the tree, looking across the horizon. “In my dreams, and even sometimes in waking hours, I hear a song echoing through my head. I know the song holds the key to my past, but I can only hear it in the distance.”
“So that is what we hunt, my Orain. We seek the song.”