Damarae Bakra (Application)

Name : Damarae Bakra, Darkspear

RP Status : Full time

Character Description : ((For the sake of time and because it’s pretty damn accurate, my RSP on the toon))

This voodoo priest is tribal and sinister at a glance. With a lanky form he is often found wearing superstitious fetishes and bizarre trophies.

Small furry paws and well-sized shriveled claws dangle from a weighted sag upon his belt near a strange smelling leather pouch often sought in times of casting. The heavy rattle of bone and wooden beads adorning this priest look hand carved with meticulously etched ultraviolet and pure silver infusions of chaotic detail scribed into bands that wrap twice about both wrists and a serpentine thick neck.

Draped over his collarbone black talons knotted onto a necklace cord hang with poisoned threat, and yet found substantially higher, upon his face, are naturally sharp solid boar-like tusks that look twice as dangerous. Though such fangs keep his mouth twisted in a perpetually sardonic smile, his lower lip has been pierced through and through with a solid albeit thin bloodstone ore ring.

Interlocked coils of ghostly arsenic dusty white hair are obviously the result of natural growth without the use of a brush or comb of any kind outside the occasional washing and re-knotting. Dozens of tiny cowrie shells are woven into the dreads, their polished porcelain chine an array of striped black and sea foam green or old lace with sandy brown spots all over.

Baleful golden-coppery eyes shine like antique metal, always aware of his surroundings. An arrowhead sanddollar is sewn securely onto the top of a threadbare knapsack worn most often over one shoulder.

When Damarae speaks the rumbling timbre vibrates, humble and baritone, in a way that could send shivers into the heart of an enemy if rallied in a battlecry. An almost palpable aura of self-sustenance speaks of maturity, and it remains promising of power eager to be controlled by this apt practitioner of a clandestine art.

Character History / Story : While the First War started he was chasing tadpoles and fighting with wooden swords. Murlocs were always a threat but his father was a hunter, a man unafraid of odds, and because of that Damarae and his brother were blessed with the illusion of security. The tribe was large but scattered and daily life held routine. Sometimes people disappeared but no one spoke about the Underworld they were drug off to in front of the younglings. By the time he was a teenager Damarae had figured it out anyhow. He still hadn’t got the hang of kissing though.

Oddly unattached to any perspective mate it was voodoo that made his spirit whole, and it was to that art he turned so often it became a sort of reputation. Before he knew it he was helping his tribe in useful ways and gradually becoming involved with a culture held so dear he found it almost impossible to flee once they were ordered onto the remaining fleet. Running past shipwrecked remained and diving into the water it was every man for himself until they were onboard and then ropes and hands flew down to help their kind flee. For Damarae, his brother, and best friend it was a messy escape from the Witch but island trolls understood the sea and after it calmed there was blood on the horizon and for once that was a good sign.

Claiming new land and settling once more it was not surprising to have lost so much, but they mourned as they had once before then moved on with life. One last time they were displaced. It would have been a lot easier to fight for Echo Isles if they had been allowed a proper sacrifice, but then again that was the point… wasn’t it? New orders. New Horde.

Drifting south he became a denizen of Ratchet, still fiercely loyal to the village he returned to most evenings, but otherwise disinterested in the growth of Orgrimmar or the most recent conflicts sweeping over foreign lands. Shady as any dealer can get his business is private unless he wants you to know about it. Questions are often answered with a grain of salt. Doing what it takes to survive nobody would call Damarae a selfless man but those who choose to obtain his favor might claim the rewards justify their effort.

Character Goals : Having sworn a bloodoath against the whore that brought dishonor to his family by participating in an elicit affair involving his brother, the wives who left him, and an embarrassing pathetic suicide as the result Damarae has every reason in the world to loathe the Sin’dorei rogue he chases with aim to slaughter. His tactic is not reckless but maddeningly patient like any snake waiting for the right time to leap out of the grass, until that second he practices his art and continues his lifestyle as if he were preparing for something… big.

Character dislikes : Whistling. Elves. Authority (though his dislike should not be interpreted as disobedience). Work. Stupid people, i.e. Loudmouths, those who lack common sense, and/or people who are naïve.

Phobias : Dying alone. What you expect him to admit to more than that? Yeah right! Ha ha. (Though rumor has it Rae overreacts when butterflies get too close). He is superstitious and therefore always follows compulsions out of fear slipping up once might be enough to leave him vulnerable to a chaotic world of hostile spiritual forces.

Application Accepted!