|Kiiyue Talas Hinitmaei|
|Guild||Tears of Draenor|
|Hair Color||Dark Auburn|
|Eye Color||Emerald Green|
The dilapidated state of this Forsaken's body is the most evident quality Hinitmaei carries with her, to battle or elsewhere. Well into deteoriation, even for an undead human, Hinitmaei nevertheless maintains herself with a trained fighter's gait that speaks much of her capacity as a fighter.
Whatever is left intact upon her is, for a lack of better words, a rugged and handsome appearance. By no means beautiful even when alive, Hinitmaei maintains the demeanor and manner that endears to many a soldier as an alike spirit, heedless of the almost-skeletal showing of her physical form. Well-settled into the overused body, the only thing that stands outside of the norm is the occasional flare in hollowed eye-sockets.
Every so often, the shadows in her head flare with a sudden green intensity, staring out at the world with an eerie life that is far beyond the world around her...
A sharp-tongued and sharp-minded observer, Hinitmaei usually keeps to her own council and observations, although is full of knowledge gathered from bits and ends of every conceivable subject. She cares little for sublety or manners, and when she wishes to make a point, she does it bluntly and directly.
However, her Orcish leaves much to be desired, limiting her capacity to speak in the Horde's primary tongue. She can otherwise carry on a coherent conversation in two dialects of Lordaerion (Gutterspeak and Common).
She is not Forsaken.
Knight Hinitmaei of the Alliance Army, Theramore Division. Orphaned in Stormwind, Hinitmaei grew up in battle, first over scraps, then over her right to live. The alleys of the bustling city was no place for a young child to grow up, with the law of the fist, the law of survival. She followed those laws, and survived. She grew up on a diet of anger, desperation, and violence. She had no chance for innocence in those years or the years that followed.
The orcs came. Killed men, torched villages, despoiled the land. It was a time of Warcraft between the Orcs and Humans.
With men depleted by the ongoing wars, she was one of many women who had taken up arms, stood shoulder-to-shoulder with the Paladins of Lordaeron and footmen of Stormwind, and fought for the defense of home, freedom, and survival.
She lived for the fight. She lived through the Second War. Recognized for her efforts, she maintained her place in Stormwind as a Knight of the Alliance, and left to defend her new home, awaiting her next battle. When it came time to fight again, the woman picked up her blades, shouldered her shield, and made ready to take the fight to the Scourge in Northrend. She had lived through two wars - she would live through a third.
She had it all. Strength and honor.
She had the Plague.
No one suspected, not even herself. At first it was subtle - her gradual lack of pain, supernatural regeneration, a growing hunger within her. Over the course of a year the world around her seemed too bright, too vibrant. For her, winter was coming in the summer. The Light hurt. The Light was blasphemy. Things were too lively. Too alive.
And then, one day, she woke up from her bed in the night. Stopped breathing. Didn't need to. Had death come to her in sleep, or had she been awakened from the slumber that was life?
The answer was the same, no matter how she worded it. She left her bed, her post, her home. Left everything behind, knowing that, from that moment on, her life was over. Her unlife had begun. She walked away into the night, trying not to look back.
She had heard of the Forsaken, all of them free of will, yet serving the will of their Dark Lady. She had battled the Scourge, all bound to the will of the Fallen Prince. But for Hinitmaei, she heard the whispers. The voice of the Banshee Queen. The orders of King Arthas. But deep within her was the strength that had carried her all through life, and would not, even in death, be silenced. Her own voice. Her own will. Her own heart. And her voice, over the others, returned her to her place in the world.
But the pain of life was still fresh. She had woken too soon, died too fast to die. She remembers everything, and was still, for the most part, the woman she was. The voices could not temper metal that had already been tempered, and though devoid of its sheen, Hinitmaei was still the key she was - rusted, grimy, but still strong enough to unlock her past into her present.
She calls herself 'Heartborne' - the strength that keeps her beyond life and death. She names herself 'Key' - though the key to what secrets remains to be found.
The soul of a woman, determined to carve a destiny. The body of a warrior, undauntingly marching forward. Ever-aware of her many names, the woman carried upon her only one, searching for the day towards which she is able to take upon her many faces and bring them together into a tool to shape her future.
And perhaps, one day, determine what to make of it.
She is not Forsaken.
Few know that this woman is, in truth, Kiiyue Hinitmaei of the Human Alliance - even as she walks among the Horde as the undead body 'Key'. Seeing the present world in two sets of eyes, Hinitmaei carries upon her shoulders the honor and legacy of both halves of the conflict - and perhaps, one day, sees to being one of those that will bring them together.
Or sunder them apart.
Help her write her story.