LOOKING FOR CONTACT: ADERITH STROMBORNE about the player

AVAILABILITY ⤥ As far as in-game, I work from 12 PM ST up to around 8 PM ST from Monday to Friday. Most of my availability will be late at night or on the weekends. My availability on discord is a lot better in terms of flexibility, as it’s a helluva lot easier to pop in and reply when I can find little pockets of time to do so. All in all, a mixture of in-game and discord roleplay would be preferable with my current schedule, unless you also play late at night!

STYLE ⤥ In the past, I’ve been most comfortable with descriptive in-game RP supplemented with a ton of OOC communication, plotting and filling in gaps. However, because of a large change in my work schedule and experiencing Hurricane Harvey’s destruction - which knocked my internet out for two weeks - I’ve turned a lot of my attention to roleplay in discord as it provides an easier medium of quick, descriptive storytelling between precious in-game shenanigans. My best experiences have come from mutual plotting and execution of those plots and scenes! HIT ME UP ⤥ Got a neat plot? Want to shoot the shit and talk character development? I’m down. I’m super interested in dark stuff, spooky stories, etc, particularly on this character and am solidly over eighteen years old. Shoot me a message on tumblr or in game ([WRA-A] Aderith), we can trade discords then!

about the character

PHYSICAL SUMMARY ⤥ The Stromic woman stands shorter than most women, a certain thick stoutness making up her body type. Her build is lean with broad shoulders and strong hips. Once, she was almost impossibly muscular, built like an immovable object. Now, however, her muscles ripple over her figure in a more concentrated, soft way - commanding strength, but focused in speed and mobility, just like her armor’s style. 

Aderith has tanned skin from constant outdoor activity and a naturally sun-favoring complexion. Freckles spread, light brown, across the bridge of her nose and scatter, just slightly, toward her forehead and temples before vanishing. The same patterns can be found across the tops of her shoulders and forearms. 

Her hair is sun-bleached, but a soft dirty blonde. It hangs past her shoulders and is often thrown into a high ponytail, headgear permitting.  A thick, scar carves itself down through her covered left eye, stopping just before the eyelid and continuing across the bridge of her nose, to end just over the right corner of her lip. Smaller scars dot her jawline and forehead. The inside of her left hand is marred by scar-tissue, evidently wounded by fire repeatedly and quickly healed each time.

WELL-KNOWN HISTORY ⤥  She’s the daughter of a Stromic merchant refugee. A stonecutter first, general good-doer second, Aderith more than likely has a generally good reputation for her pro-Alliance works, particularly dealing with Stormwind’s reconstruction after the Cataclysm. Some may know about her involvement with the Children of Lothar, a particularly Kingdoms-centric group focused on keeping the homefront safe. 

As a hobby, Aderith brawls and, in the past, arena matches. She has a variety of trophies from winning these matches.

SPLIT pt. 1 (listen) 

No troll had ever scared her.

Aderith Stromborne navigates the spire hanging over the sea, the way her plate boots sound when they hit the ornate stones drowned out by the waves crashing against the cliffside. Red-and-gold tabards line the edges of her gaze, circle up the spire’s ramps in search of clues. There had to’ve been fifteen of them, total. 

As she steps into the center of the second platform, sure they had lost out on a possible lead, her back began to burn.

The runic tattoos, black and curved over her her shoulders to the center of her back pulsed painfully once before dulling to a weak simmer. More surprised than anything, Aderith grimaces behind the deep brown Amani mask that sat over face. Green eyes shift away from the sea, toward the mountain on their right, as she steps forward. Five Oathsworn follow her, several strides behind.

A mass of gray-green meet her gaze. Hulking undead trolls rush from the structure built in to the cliff, pouring around the investigation party - rushing the ramps which held Oathsworn seeking evidence of Maz’jin’s presence. Most rush past their group, curiously, leaving Aderith bewildered. Her sword hefts in her left hand, her right fills with arcanic fire, eyes turning in confusion as the enemies flood right past.

Last to exit, Maz’jin rushes forward. Aderith’s shoulders feel as though they’re on fire. The sudden pain dulls the Strom’s reaction time, and suddenly the Oathsworn around her are on the ground. Maz’jin’s blade connects with her own, a parry she doesn’t register until her sword’s already up to her chest. The huge troll sports braided hair, shaped and styled in varying widths to create its own headdress. Across the spire, she hears the trolls tearing through the Children of Lothar.

They exchange blows for several minutes. Maz’jin brings his blade down, hard, on the plated Amani mask protecting Aderith’s head. Saronite hits her face. A deafening crack announces the devastation before Addy feels it, the mask split diagonally down the right side of her features. Her face, too, is split - the blow nearly clipping her right eye. When the metal touches her skin, terror floods the Stromic woman’s insides. Blood is replaced by fear. 

The skin on her shoulders feels as if its melting into her muscles. Fire licks up her right arm, thrust outward at the Amani with a pain-filled roar. 

He responds by grabbing her wrist, yanking her plate-covered limb down so hard the woman can feel her bones separating. The armor creaks in protest, and the blonde screams over the sound of waves hitting the rocks below. Her arm drops limply at her side, heavier than it was worth, now. Breathing becomes hard, between the dents made to her chestplate and the intense pain surfing through her entire form. 

Something is wrong, inside, too. Vision out of her right eye becomes intensely blurred, irritated when the moon’s light bounces off of the ocean’s surface to illuminate Maz’jin’s olive-toned features. She has barely touched him. 

Aderith is dying. 

Fear courses her form, tears blur what remains of her unfocused gaze. In the distance, she registers Al’s voice. Alasdair. Alasdair. Hope, the cruelest thing, leaps in her chest. It focuses her gaze. Al would save her. Alasdair is coming.

Jason’s roar, too. Dagan’s otherworldly candor, a tactful whirr. The grunt of pain that follows Elaianna’s body hitting the stone ramp above. Reinforcements had arrived. Tears make tracks down Aderith’s bloody face, but her feeble attempts to summon fire at her right hand’s fingers makes screams pass through clenched, frustrated teeth. She cannot save herself. There would be no winning.

She is scared of this troll. 

Maz’jin’s massive green paw glows with light-absorbing nothingness. Void. The tattoos on her back feel like they light aflame. Oh. Void sat between her shoulders. A shortcut, Buzz had assured her. A quicker way to arcanic mastery and power. He pointed to the tattoos across his upper arms. 

per @greenapplesprite Alasdair Daviteson x Aderith Stromborne things you said when you thought i was asleep

AFTER MAZ’JIN’S AMBUSH

Alasdair takes the first shift. After a particularly violent outburst at the Children of Lothar headquarters, he suggests she be moved to her father’s home for familiarity’s sake. He cradles her broken body against his own as they fly to Stormwind in silence. 

When they arrive, Markos and the twins pour over her with worry. 

Her face, oh Gods, her face. Her arm. Will she ever be able to hold her sword again?

Al briefs the family on the condition of their heirloom blade. Markos’s face falls further. He murmurs something about the blade killing his children.

The warrior-paladin winds her up the spiral stairs to their small shared bedroom. He lowers her into her bed, her green eyes slits as they watch him. Tears leak down her cheeks like rivers, uncontrollable. She shakes, full body. It pains her, and he can tell.

Armor is stripped off until both wore loose clothes and curled, together, under the light blankets of her bed. It was far too small for the two of them, but Al simply enveloped Aderith in a full-body cradle. When he’s sure she’s asleep, he whispers:

per @greenapplesprite Alasdair Daviteson x Aderith Stromborne things you said when you were crying

“Al, I can’t do this,” Aderith sobs, defeated, lifting her forehead from the balls of her palms. The night had been nothing but trouble. Their members were out of control, and Addy appeared to’ve been the only one capable of dealing with them. Then, after completely removing one - something she had not intended to do or wanted to do - and demoting another, a dispute breaks out in the street as the Children lounge about.

Jason’s past lady-friend. A royal bitch who ripped and tore at his feelings, attempted to degrade him in the public eye, targetted the Blonde specifically. Are you going to fuck her, too?

What the fuck.

Elaianna and Valicene get in to it. For the third time that day, the boat is brought up. So far, Aderith’s largest fuck up. Great, fantastic. It would never go away. So, she leaves - flies back to the Highlands. That’s where she hides, now, when she thinks about things. Trolls just die, they don’t ask questions. They don’t need people to fix things for them. Fye, Anna and her court-mage show. Addy feels better, having taken a troll down and at work extracting its tusks. She’s excited to have company - delighted to relax, something she hadn’t done in quite some time. Moments later, Elaianna drops another problem in to her lap - calls Aderith a poor leader for ‘running’ from her issues. 

The blonde settles into a chair at Headquarters, Alasdair Daviteson pacing one side of the room. Soon, her problems spin. Hone in on Zero.

“She’s just so different. She’s distant. She’s cold. There’s something missing, some big thing gone. Oh, Light, what if it was Gilfer? What if that’s what’s missing?” Addy gasps, trying to catch her breath. She kneads her forehead worriedly. “I miss Arias. I miss him so much. Life is so much harder. You’re so busy and he’s just, well. She’s just.” 

Aderith buries her head in her arms, breath ragged. Tears drip on to the dark wood beneath her wrists.

Alasdair hovers nearby, curls his massive arms fully around her body. He cradles her to his chest, frowning worriedly, petting her head. “Hey, it’s okay. I know. I miss him too, Addy. It’s okay.”

I WILL BUY YOU A NEW LIFE | EVERCLEAR they might think you're happy / yeah maybe for a minute or two they can't make you laugh / no they can't make you feel the way that i do

Leather straps strain some as Addy squeezes the metal bar of the bindings between her chestpiece around one of the pock-marked holes. Light, it had been literal years since she wore the brushed iron and teal cloth set. Spikey shoulder pads click in to place without any issue. Momentarily, the blonde reflects on her choice of wardrobe. Ever-armored, always hefting some kind of blade or shield. 

She shudders. It’s uncomfortable to think about. Not only does her body look strange bound up in cloth and leathers, but she feels so naked and vulnerable. There had been whispers in the taverns of a Black Market in the harbor district of the city. Given the absence of many of her close associates - everyone’s attention having turned to the issues in Howling Fjord - Aderith craves some kind of positive socialization.

The harbor bustles with activity, even late at night. Blue eyes scan nooks and crannies with curiosity and interest. When Addy finally finds the place, she slows to a stop in awe. 

Vendors line two sides of the street, all offering fanciful displays. A woman sells ale from a tent. In the distance, what appears to be a collection of hodge-podge artifacts and knick-knacks catches her attention. At her right bustles the weapons tent. Vaguely, Aderith catches a familiar voice, but in the chaos cannot place it. Her attention is drawn away, at any rate, as Fyeloren approaches her from behind.

They resolve to head to the oddities cart. There, they find Northrend’s finest creepy shit: saronite and Drakkari wards against the Loa. Useful, given their current situation. The least Addy can do, given that she had yet to leave the Kingdoms. As she produces her coinpurse, Aderith catches the familiar voice once more. Jason Bloodmane. 

Her heart just about falls into her butt. The trollslayer had begun considering Jason ... differently ... after their walk through the Alterac region to Arathi. Sure, not only was he handsome, but there was a particularity about his person that gave Addy pause. He loves his sons fiercely, as evidenced by his baking ability and the soft way his voice dropped when he brought up Viktor. Jason was educated, always knowing more about the world’s current events than Addy could imagine remembering. 

And, he liked her. Genuinely. From the way she looked to the way she acted, how Strom ran through her veins and the way she fought. The concept made Aderith’s stomach flip when she thought about it. Her busted face is mended by a concerned healer, she strikes up casual conversation with the man who had, minutes before, painted a beautiful portrait of Jason. Addy waves him over to the group after they relocate - includes him in their conversation by physically prodding his arm. He responds by prodding and dancing his fingers across the back of her neck. Light. The set of armor she pulled out of retirement feels particularly tight.

Jason mentions that he likes her ‘new’ set of armor, admires her choice of polearm. It becomes hard to breathe.

They went to get drinks. After waiting in line for some time, picking up Alexander Maknus somewhere along the way, Jason and Aderith approach the vendor, grinning hard at each other’s responses to a previous conversation. The woman tending makes a comment about them being an attractive couple, making Addy stumble through her actions. Suddenly, getting her coinpurse is difficult.

Jason pays for everything before she can argue. Her whole face is hot. She scoots toward the bay, finding a suitable area to slow as the boys follow her. Plopping to the ground, Aderith sets her crate of goods aside to consider the letter, in Zandali, that Jason had recovered the night before. The information was troubling - their concerns had been confirmed. Faustus’s Alliance had dispatched a faction to Lordaeron to gather more souls, likely appointing the Amani troll Maz’jin to its head.

But, she had no time to mope. Immediately, surrounded by their guildmates and friends, the Children of Lothar chatter excitedly to one another. Business is left behind. Conversations ranging from raunchy questionnaires (horns, or pigtails?) to deliciously baked snack foods (donuts, muffins and cupcakes) sate the Children’s social and literal appetites. This is peace, this made her happy. Jason begins recounting the Elite Tauren Chieftan’s albums to her, exactly as he’d left of earlier in the week, cracking jokes between explanations. Her cheeks ache from smiling. Aderith likes him.

Later, Fyeloren comments that everyone could tell.

children of lothar’s leadership in faceclaims jason bloodmane - gilneas delegate (jason momoa) darius pierce - gilneas representative (pierce brosnan) zero nerevar - alterac representative (daisy ridley) aderith stromborne - stromgarde representative (caity lotz) elaianna sydor - kul’tiras delegate (sarah bolger) tara casanova - kul’tiras representative (bridget satterlee) alasdair daviteson - speaker of the kingdoms (henry cavill)

SHE SAYS THAT LOVE IS FOR FOOLS WHO FALL BEHIND  AND I’M SOMEWHERE IN BETWEEN. I NEVER REALLY KNOW A KILLER FROM A SAVIOR ‘TIL I BREAK AT THE BEND.

part two of three

Two figures curl in a large bed deep within a Gilnean manor, tucked far from the forsaken’s reach. Rain beats down against the windows relentlessly overnight, stormclouds dumping the water unceremoniously over the mountainous Gilnean landscape. When the time comes, the sun rises up into the sky to grant muffled gray light down through the Gilnean clouds, lighting up Jason's room ever so slightly. When she wakes, Jason isn’t within the confines of his bedroom. The covers coil around her tanned form as she sits up, looking left and right.

There was a lack of silence, however, deep in the house despise his absence. Instead, in the distance, metal lightly scrapes against something. Plates are set with gentle clinks. A muffled conversation between a deep voice that was obviously Jason's and some lighter unknown voice that could've been feminine. Maybe not. At any rate, if Addy were going to enter any … conversation … with anyone, she’d need some clothes. Green eyes scan the room, only to locate bits and pieces of her armor scattered about with no underclothes (well, that'd be fucking uncomfortable) and Jason’s far oversized clothing.

The blonde shifts her eyes left and right in the dim light, tanned body shivering a little. It was cold up north, even in the summertime. Colder than Stormwind, anyway. So, she pulls on one of Jason's massive shirts - trying to find something with a higher neckline, so her titties aren't just hangin' out. Then, she looks left and right for something that'd suffice as pants, though the shirt came down past the scandalous parts of her thighs. "Shit," she mumbles, eyes lifted toward the door. A voice. More than just Jason. Fuck. What had she gotten herself into? The unfamiliar voice expresses something, but given the barrier between them, it’s difficult for Addy to tell what. She hears no deep response from Jason, but instead heavy footsteps. Closer and closer. Then, the Gilnean opens the door wide enough to enter, leaning up against the frame. Aderith shrinks visibly, hands drifting to her legs, then her chest, then her legs. What should she cover? The woman shuts her eyes tight as he walks in - but relaxes once she's aware of who it was. Embarrassed, the woman tugs the shirt down a little, cheeks red. "Oh hey luv! Awake already?" He eyes her over with that big ol' shirt, a whistle let off. "Oomf luv, I love the initiative yer goin' with ya' look, real sexy. Anyways, I wus coming up here ta' ask if ya' wanted blueberry or vanilla pancakes for breakfast?" "I, uh. I," she stammers. "What did you just ask, I'm sorry?" "Blueberry, or vanilla pancakes, what'll it be luv?" Jason chuckles as he asks plainly, eyes raking over her. "You are damn cute ya' know that? I'll make you a set of each. Come on, I'll be in the kitchen."

The hulking man waves her on as he heads the kitchen. "And don't worry about pants! I got all of our clothes from last night into my Gilnean washing machine! Don't want that stank on ya' afterwards." Aderith gapes, head bobbing dumbly. She follows him very closely, just a few steps behind. Her green eyes are wide, taking in the interior of his manor in the low grey light. Her arms fold over her chest, tanned feet padding over wood floors. Jason hums as he leads her through the building, slowing as the reached the kitchen.

CHAPTER V —  I’VE GOTTA WAIT FOR YOU DIE YOUNG  Sleep was never an issue for Aderith, even through her recovery. It always came to her swiftly, bringing an intense feeling of warmth and safety. The Stromic woman had never been one for nightmares, only haunted by them in times of intense stress while her mind worked things out in overtime, so thankfully only the first few weeks of her stay in Elwynn forest were plagued by bad dreams. Months later, when Leiona departs to drink with the other priests, no real nightmares itch the inside of Addy’s skull. Instead, phantoms drift just out of reach. (1, 2, 3, 4)