Nyx

(( I will be updating this as soon as I get more quality ideas, the same basic outcome is the same, just nearly all of the details and such have been changed.)) nPlease tell me what you think! This is my first backstory for a character and I would really appreciate some tips on how to make it better, nHere's whats the same: nLoilaton is still a DK nThat means he died at some point.(Suprise! I should be a suspense writer!) nHe's pretty ticked off at who killed him.nHe's still blinded, He can still see through dark magic though.nBook 1. nA Song for Innocencen Chapter One.n~On Bread and Ale~nn A Sharp wind blew through the streets of the Quel'Dorei city of Silvermoon, sending leaves swirling through the early spring air. It was always spring in Quel'thalas, the Sunwell made sure of that, but the air still had an early morning chill to it. That early morning chill was enough to make a persons checks red, and when one has a cough it didn't really help. All that combined was enough to make Loilaton walk a little faster on his way to the bakery, he was to get an loaf of bread for mother, deliver a letter to Aunt Illeyia, and then- his train of thought was cut off. There it was, right in front of him! The biggest puddle he had ever seen! He couldn't resist but to move a little closer, just one itsy, bitsy, tiny, splash couldn't hurt! He moved a bit closer, he could see his reflection now, he stood of a medium height for his age, he had untidy black hair, and wide blue eyes, but then again, every Quel'dorei had blue eyes. But his mother said his where her favorite. "Yours are just a tad bit different" she said, when she told him he had done a good job, she always commented on his eyes when she told him he was her favorite son. He never bothered to tell her he was her only son. She only laughed when he did tell her. then she'd say "Well that means you don't have competition." Then he'd laugh and abruptly ask what dinner was, she'd then reply, "I'm not exactly sure yet." Then she'd procrastinate so long that he'd be forced to go buy a loaf of bread from the bakery. The exact thing he was doing right now, with that thought in mind he decided to pay the puddle a visit latter, mainly beacuse he was hungry, but father also came home from whatever it was Farstriders do-he never payed attention, if you don't get to ride around on a dragon and become a hero like in the stories it wasn't worth his attention. Now that he thought about the hero's in stories never rode around on a dragon. He guessed he would just have to be the first, after he got the bread and delivered the letter of course, he would eat first, it's hard to be a hero on an empty stomach.

Chapter 2.n~Deaths in the Family~nn The Rain beat down upon the roof of the small house, drumming on the windows, outside the wind howled and inside his mother never let up her weeping. It seemed as if the very world was crying Loilaton thought. Father was dead, that stark reality never seemed to get out of his mind, for the past three days it was all he could think of. Mother hadn't come from their room-no, just her room now, ever since the young Farstrider, nervous and unsure looking had knocked on their door, with a letter in hand. Amani Trolls had ambushed father's patrol on their way home. No survivors, and you the only thing they could identify the body's by was the fact that they were the only patrol scheduled to go through that area. Loilaton looked out the window again, it was raining harder now, his mothers howls of agony joined that of the winds, in a mournful melody. n He was crying too, on the inside, he had to be an grown up now, and grown up weren't supposed to cry. That was stupid though, beacuse mother was crying, and that was all that mattered.

Chapter 3.nn Confusion, that was all he could feel as he looked down at the body that he had called mother, it didn't make sense, she had been perfectly normal in the morning when he had left. He was just going for a walk, nothing more. And certainly not a reason for his mother to kill herself. She had never been the same since father died, she was quieter, and she had settled into a state of melancholy, but nothing this drastic. It had come out of nowhere, he had come home to find her body laying on the kitchen floor. Both of her wrists were slit, and her blood was a crimson stain on the dusty wooden floor, it just didn't make sense. Why would mother kill herself? He didn't feel anything, that scared him, no sadness, no pain, nothing. I should cry, I should scream, I should do something. But when he opened his mouth nothing came out, tears refused to come from his eyes and his heart was only a dull ache in his chest. He didn't know what to do, he was still standing there when the neighbors noticed the door wide open and went to investigate. He was still there when they started going into hysterics, and when they ran to get the City Watch he stood there for a while.nn But then it came to him They'll think I did it, it was untrue, but was the only logical explanation that most guard would think off. He had no way to prove himself innocent, and guards don't need much reason to kill you where you stand. I'll run away, I'll live off the streets. He moved quickly, grabbing the loaf of bread that was sitting on the table, and climbing to the loft where he slept, he grabbed a bag and stuff his only other clothes into it, wrapping them around the bread. He snatched his cloak from its peg on the wall and went to his mother's sleeping chamber. It didn't take long for him to find the chest of his father's old possessions. From that he grabbed a old bastard sword, a hand and a half blade and that went up to his chest. This was my fathers blade, and his father before that, and his father before that, this blade goes back through the ages. He searched the chest for its scabbard, it was at the bottom, beneath rusted mail armor. Little good that would do him, it was torn to shreds by the Amani trolls, and stained with his fathers blood. He had almost retched when the Farstriders first delivered it to his mother. He slid the sword into it's sheath and slung it around his back. He stopped in the kitchen one last time to look upon his mother, whatever lack of emotion he had felt before was gone now, and hot tears streaked down his face, he bent down to kiss her on the forehead before covering her body with a sheet from the bedroom. He turned away and half-ran, half-walked out the back door. At the end of the alleyway he looked back one last time. "I love you Mother" he whispered to himself. He turned his back on the house and walked away.

(((Just a little filller chapter, something to make sure you guys don't forget about this while I draft out the main plot >.>))nn The rain came down in buckets, turning the unpaved streets of Silvermoon's poor district into mud, mud mixed with blood, waste and sweat. A sharp, howling wind bore down through the narrow streets and twisting alleys, pulling at cloaks and knocking over lose objects. Pulling his cloak tighter around him Loilaton tried to stay warm, huddled in the corner of a small alley, trying to stay under the edges of the roof tops in order to keep dry he watched as a patrol of guards made its way down the street at the mouth of the alley. They eyed the crowd wearily, and with good reason, the people here were refugee's from the Second War, Humans, Dwarfs, Elves, thieves, murders, smugglers. They were in a wretched state, most had not washed for a considerable amount of time, their eyes narrowed with suspicion at any who passed, and almost all of them clothed in garments of more patches then fabric. The buildings were in no better state, hovels put up hastily outside the city walls, with walls cemented with mud and flat, wooden roofs. The Guards pushed their way down the street, water pouring off their armor, and their heavy iron boots leaving the mud streets behind them a rutted nightmare. Loil crawled to the mouth of the alley, sometimes the guards passed out food to orphans.