Hello everyone!<br/><br/>You probably all already know Honin, my main, and a small texture of his storyline. But with the plans of placing may stories, both actual RP events and fabrications of what can and may be on this site, More information is needed to understand everyone's unique relationship, mentality, and actions. So, without any further delay, i give you, the many RP faces of Honin. Each part of them is a part of me, although Honin emphasizes almost all of me totally, the others show extreme sides that one always has hidden in the back of his head...<br/><br/>-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br/><br/>Honin<br/><br/>Honin Shadowmane was not always a death knight. He was a Druid prior, a well respected feral warrior who fought along side his allies against the wrath of the Burning legion when they invaded the Kalimdor. Witnessing the destruction of the world tree and Archimonde from afar, believing that their race had lost deep into his heart, he went mad in his primal fury, rending into whatever undead forces he could find, before finally losing himself into jungles and mountains that surround felwood, winterspring, and the Hinterlands. Four years past before civilization ever laid eyes on him again, a shell of his former self, purely feral and stalking the lands between Darkshore and Felwood. Here he was discovered be fellow druids, calmed enough to be guided back to darnassus, and to begin his rehabilitation. Leading the effort was a human priest, named Abbysue. Over the course of weeks, months, she interacted with him, took him out to explore the world and remind him more and more of his past life. Though not able to remember anything past the image of the world tree burning, he was finally able to regain his humanity, and control his changes at will. They were married a short time later, and all was blessed by their union...<br/><br/>But it was not to last.<br/><br/>During the last incursion of the scourge, before the invasion of the northern continent, they fought together for the alliance against the last known ziggarant over the soils of Winterspring. Offering to be a advanced scout with his wife, they were both discovered and swarmed by the undead. Fighting to give his love a avenue of escape, his fury was cut short from a sudden blow from behind, dropping him heavily to the ground. As his mind faded into unconsciousness, he could only see his wife, his love, his Abbysue grinning as she back away, the undead ghouls parting for her to pass, before swarming towards him.<br/><br/>He never felt the killing blow.<br/><br/>When he awoke, it was inside the Ebon hold, at the Lich Kings command, a killing machine with a new purpose... he did not participate in the battle for Lights hope, but when the hold of the Lich king shattered, with all of his memories, especially thoughts of his traitorous wife in his mind, he went into a killing fury against all within the hold who did got flee from him. By the time the Ebon blade came to the lower levels to deal with Patchwork, all they found were mounds of corpses and only one elf exchanging blows with the beast, severely wounded. They quickly finished the beast off, and once dead, he fell unconscious once more.<br/><br/>Upon awakening, learning of what he now is and seeing how once-former living allies treated him, but still having his pride, he repledged his allegiance with the alliance, and to this day he travels, finding ever increasing acceptance as time get's people used to his predicament, becoming more level-headed and kind, knowing full-well the pain of betrayal and the sting of unacceptance. He finds his only true pleasure now from giving towards others, basking in their satisfaction and enjoyment. He found himself in the care of many women over the years, his mindset allowing to serve as a guardian and slave, his pride suffering no blows over the fact of the satisfaction he could give his mistresses. He found a pet of his own, a woman with different ideals but the same burning passion. He found another who also healed his heart from the strains of his past. Not allowing his past to hinder his future, he also wed the Priestess, Lizzil. And to further give and to experience life again, he has come to the spire, to learn, to live, to love, and most of all... to give.<br/><br/>Partners: Pashon (pet) AKA T'as'e Ash. Lizzil (wife) *pashon's main*<br/><br/>Additioal OOC notes: His Master name is "Ethala"<br/><br/>-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br/><br/>Ristaan<br/><br/>There is not much to say about the past of this enigma. Some say he was a famed tracker before the war; some say he was a exile from his people due to a confrontation with the military leader of Darnassus... Honin even remembers the man as a brother, one of the few memories that are still vivid within his mind from before the death of the world tree. Whichever is the case, Ristaan has been living, or for better term, surviving amongst the lowlands of Ashenvale. Words only whisper of the elf, speaking of a wolf wearing human skin(although it is the opposite that is true), as fast as the very beasts he runs with, and his bow laying low any that would try to outrun the fangs of his brethren. All knowledge points that he has ran with the same "Pack" for almost a decade, never actively serving in the wars, but leaving scout along the barren's borders disturb at the sight, sometimes piles, or orcish and horde corpses. Those who dare trespass into the elvish land did not last long if found by his pack, fearfully called "Howling death" by the residents of Astanaar, who have heard their victory cries echo throughout the forests.<br/><br/>Many have tried, but only one person has, and ever will now, ever both discovered their pack without being chased off, and getting close enough to view him in full detail. A feral tracker in her own right, Earlessa had heard the rumors, and with both permission from her superiors and her curiosity aroused, went off to discover the true meaning of this person. Using her feral abilities combined with her tracking knowledge, after two days of searching she had found their den, a nest of caves in the southern part of Ashenvale, bordering the Stonetalon mountains.<br/><br/>Watching him from her perch in a tree about 100 meters away, she was able to see the rumors for herself. He still kept some semblance of humanity, as shown by the small, odorless fire he had at the base of his cave, the wolves mulling around and even flopping before it's warmth in no fear. She observed him as he ate singed meat off the bone, hunched near the fire. His arms and legs, covered with scars, were corded and muscular, and while he wore no gloves, his feet were covered with a full piece of leather, tied tight with sinew. She could see a leather tunic, made the same way, sewn on his chest, a single line of stitches going up the middle, designed not to be removed, but to be washed with him like a second shin. A hanging leather loincloth covered his groin, hanging almost to his knees, touching the ground as he squatted over his food. His head, face and back were covered with the full pelt and face of a wolf, The previous alpha, as it has been told in stories after. The arms and legs of the hide were tied to his body with sinew, it's claws ending at the back of his hands, it's footpads reaching just past the beck of his knee. The face of the pelt was draped over his own head. tied under is chin with another piece, leaving only his eyes shining though the beast's own sockets, and his lower mouth visible as he tore into his food. A slightly irregular, but ovbiously trimmed facial hair was over his lips and around his mouth, and a bow sat beside him, Crude arrows sat in a satchel next to the cruder weapon, a long piece of rabbit sinew stretch to the point of breaking a length of yew wood, more of a shortbow then anything else, no more then 2 feet in length.<br/><br/>Observing for a time, She watched him stand and head to the east unattended, knowing there was a stream in that direction. She followed, hopping gracefully from tree to tree, until she was again watching him, as he bathed and drank from the waters. After he had redressed in his hide, she finally hopped down to let her presence be known. A grin on his face, however, spoke that he knew for some time, yet he gave no indication. Sensing more to this Panther then there was to see, he observed her as she finally changed into the elf she was... and the light in his eyes changed to something deeper... and recognizable. With no other word, he stepped forward towards her, and with no word given, she too went to him. Their mating was long and primal, all forms of civilized romance and love long forgotten, only primal desire and need fueling him, them both, as they finally were joined. His howling cry into the night, given upon completion of breeding the panting woman below him, was answered almost rejoiced by all of his pack.<br/><br/>She stayed with them for a small time, observing and hunting with the pack. she saw with extreme efficiency how they would stalk and kill their prey, even if it was a whole score of horde in a raiding party, or a lone scout sent to get answers of missing scouts, and so forth. With that knowledge, she set back to report her findings, but would not be alone. Ristaan, the hunter, choose to follow that which is his mate, one faithful young wolf, when he called "Dath" in tow. The three would become well known as trackers of the alliance, a vanguard and strike force of extreme accuracy... and a primal couple that shares their moments every chance they get... Along with their wolfen ally.<br/><br/>Partners: Earlessa (mate) *pashons alt*<br/><br/>Additional OOC notes: Very feral. Loyal to his mate, unless they find a third partner together or permission given. From living primal with the wolves,he adapted their sexual style; his manhood will form a "knot" at the base to lock within his partners, to keep his seed within until the breeding is sucessful, sometimes 5-20 minutes at a time. His pet Dath also engages in the Rp from time to time, sharing his mate or partners.<br/><br/>-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br/><br/>Vorjinn:<br/><br/>Some would say he is evil reincarnated. Others who were not as blunt could say he is the result of a tortours past, which led him to the life he lives now, full of giving pain and sadistic pleasure to whichever woman catches his fancy. Either way, Vorjinn D'za'monte is no way near being a ordinary being. A D'jinn of the Element of air, This being was ensnared many centuries past by primal shamans, transformed into what people would call a modern day Genie. Trapped within the item of his binding (which was a giant seashell... hey, primal shamans of ages past had no lamps) he served master after master, the beginning of his few centuries of servitude being very simple.... Smite a enemy... Desicrate a city... Make someone a King/Queen... After his three wishes, he would return to the realm within the shell, full of nothing but grey mist and smoke, for years at a time, untill a new person claimed his prison for their own.<br/><br/>It went on like this for the first dozen of his masters... then a lull of almost 50 years, in abolute solitude. His newest Mistress, apon being summoned, was a sun elf noble witin silvermoon, summoning him on accident while inspecting her newest aquisition. Her first wish was was carefully laid out; The truth about himself, down right to the limitations of his bindings. What followed was a time that the entirety of Silverymoon went into termoil, as she carefully plotted her second wish, taking out certain nobles, raising the rank of others in her favor, and setting herself up to become the grandest noble within that city, without the nessessity to rule. All from the carefully laid wording of a single wish. Afterwards, she summoned him, and explained something as if it was completly obvious: No one else could have this power, she said, and they never will.<br/><br/>A mixture of fear, dread, and a slight hope filled the enslaved D'jinn. Would she kill him? would she free him? at least anything would be better then this constant, endless torment of being controlled. But she had also sensed this, and her third wish filled him with dread. "I wish for you to only allow one wish to be granted for the rest of your life, D'jinn. And that wish is "I wish you to serve me and obey as a mortal."<br/><br/>Full of absolute dread and sicked, Vorjinn screamed and raged from his prison that he was sent back to, as the now-highest noble auctioned him off to the highest bidder, naming full well the limitations set to him. What followed were centuries of use and neglect, as mistress after mistress, and the occasional master, made him make the pledge; he was used as a servent who needed no food or rest. He was used as a bodyguard and as a protector who could not die from being cut, nor would any poision slay him, though the pains from both still pained him. And most of all, he was used as a sex slave, adjusted for personal preference, personal use, and wahtever sick, twisted desires each one uniquly had. With each return to his prison, his wonds and scars would heal, but his mental soul deteriated with each day, each month, year, decade...<br/><br/>This would have went on for a indefinate period of time. A mid ranking noble with high ambitions, his 19th owner in his lifetime, tried to use him to fend off a house feud invading her home. In the ensuring carnage, a wizard's fireball went away... and struck the seashell that was his prison. It cracked, glowing unearthly blue light and billowing smoke, before shattering into a thousand peices. The light and smoke drifted into Vorjinn, restoring every bit of power he had lost... which he used in his absolute rage. Not even a half turn of a glass after, he was away from that city, having made sure that every living being in that house's blood coated the walls, a grim reminder of what they had tampered with.<br/><br/>He now roams Azeroth as he see's fit, enjoying his freedom, but having no one to vent his pain, his fustration apon, as not even the week after his freedom was gained, the sun elf city was destoyed buy the undead march of the Lich King. After many years, he finally desided: he would give others a taste of his pain, and thier feelings be damned! thier wants be damned! their very lives be damned, if he choose it! for he was free!<br/><br/>He will never forget the pain he had suffured... but he will also never forget the abolute pain of his suffuring, and as such, will never go that far... unless provoked.<br/><br/>Partners: Chastie (forced slave) *Pashon's alt*<br/><br/>Additional OOC Notes: He is violent, and he is forceful. He rapes who he feels like, enjoying the struggles and the suffuring of his actions. He is extremly dominate, and will always lead the action in the way he see's fit... he like to break the minds of his victums as he has his fun, usually making them enjoy the pain at the end of his raping, to the point of making them milk his release from him, placing mental doubts in their mind if they really hadn't wanted it, body betraying mind. If provoked, he will torture in diffrent ways. As a D'jinn, he is ethereal when he wishes, allowing blows not to harm him. He also has control of his element, air, along with lesser use of earth, water, and fire, which he uses for binding and torture as he see's fit.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>