What better time to post my character than after Caesar's "little hater"? Tel'issare "Blue" Witherwind
'The Eternal Conflict' was the most recent incarnation of the WoW franchise, with more immersion due to better technology; the imagery was exaggerated but strong and catchy.
There was the usual fair share of addicts, ones who'd never unplug who'd live on an i.v. drip.
Bruno Bilderberg was obsessed as well, that is true, but more with the imagery than with gameplay, and connected to reality well enough to allow his twisted genius to run a megacorporation; at most, his choice of staff uniforms and job titles drew comment. Most corporations don't call their quality assurance officers 'paladins', that's true.
Bruno's restlessness and obsession was furthered by the 'imperfection' of reality, especially the women that a megacorp's head would meet - gold-diggers, social climbers, thoroughbred high society daughters so stuck up they hovered; none had the degree of perfection comparable to his beloved heroines, none teased his fancy as much as aberrant creatures of fantasy.
Thus, he ordered one, custom-made: a Draenei, horned and hooved, yet comely and fey, and special in a dozen ways a perverted mind can think of.
He'd wanted his toy adoring and loyal, eager and pleasing, sufficiently smart to entertain.
Whether due to dumb chance or by the workings of enemies, the gene stocks used in the lab were not as inteded, but rather from inmates, known for violence, destruction, a malicious intellect and an undimmable independence.
Understandably, the behavioral conditioning did not take as well as planned; also, discontent with just owning, Bilderberg delighted in games of humiliation and power. After years of use and abuse at the hands of the plutarch, who deemed himself to be in absolute control, the toy lashed out.
No one could have planned or foreseen the outbreak of psychic power that accompanied the backlash, as the slave tore his master into pieces and painted the suite red with his blood.
The walls of the manor could not hold the furious psychic, and neither could the response team.
Dazzled by the sights of the arcology, drunk with newfound thought and emotion and roused by the smell of blood, Blue would have been picked off sooner or later, if not picked up by Jerico Crane, fixer, scoundrel and part-time philosopher.
Crane immediately saw the benefit of having someone capable of throwing cars (without touching them, too) in good standing.
Today, he laughs at the way the blue neo-ethnic picked him up and chided him: "Never approach unannounced." Nervously, the fixer had shrugged and replied: "The streets belong to everybody" and wondered as in a childish way, the blood-stained Blue asked with narrowing eyes: "Do I now belong to everybody?"
"No, kid, you belong to yourself" was what saved him.
Nowadays, Blue is adult in all respects, well-read and thoughtful. Then? While physically mature, Jerico was startled by how ignorant of most areas of schooling and human interaction the runaway was; the areas Blue was proficient in made it obvious that the urchin had been someone's plaything,
They spent years together, Jerico and his gang teaching what they could and would, and setting up the prodigy to work his telekinesis for clients. As an added benefit, if a deal ever turned sour, Blue was there to gleefully tear the offenders limb from limb.
Jerico was primarily out for money; Blue's motivations evolved from gratitude, to discovering pride and a sadistic streak, towards vengeance on asociates of the former owner and corporate slavers, to picking up the cause of neo-ethnics and a general anti-corporate libertarian agenda.
Over the years, Blue learned much of subtlety, yet not near as much of sanity. Adamantly refusing treatment with hormones, antipsychotics or tech that would 'mess up my brain', Blue instead rides out each wave, learning to live with the crazy. Perhaps, one day, when the debts are paid and the world a better place to live, with less corporate scum, less slavers, less haters and less people who don't pick up after their dog, the rebel will finally settle somewhere peaceful and fish, or rake sand hence and forth. Until then, you better not phone at the cinema or cut in line.
5'11" is not something that makes you stand out - being blue, with curving horns, a few decorative head-tendrils in addition to charcoal hair, and a tail and hooves to boot makes up for it.
Tel'issare watches the world with red eyes set in an ageless heart-shaped face with delicate features and cherry lips, very much according to the buyer's wishes.
The Draenei's limbs are long - the arms slender slender, the legs and behind muscular, the body slightly femininely rounded.
For dress, Tel'issare prefers loose and worn baggy garb (when trying to be inconspicuous), or, ironically, gaudy dresses patterned after comuter games, comics, novels.
The Draenei is quite vain, and particular to jewelry - but places little value on the trinkets beside decoration.
When business is at hand, Tel'issare will don light body armor in camo patterns.