Demitria Rione

Demitria Lothinil, maiden name Rione, is a born and bred Gilnean that emigrated from the City around the time the Worgen outbreak occurred. Unlike her slaughtered or changed brethren, Demitria was able to leave the city relatively unharmed physically; however, the scars she bore after the incident were much more difficult to endure emotionally.

She currently serves as a Captain of the League of Lordaeron, working alongside her comrades, friends, and those she has come to know as family in the efforts to restore Lordaeron to its former glory.

Appearance
Fair-skinned and on the slightly petite side, Demitria Lothinil holds herself with an air of confidence; she stands around a mere five foot four inches, though the disadvantage in height only seems to add to her femininity.

A neat bun sits atop the crown of her head, as she wears her hair up most of the time, and occasionally a few flyaway strands will frame her delicate face. If on the off chance one were to catch her with her hair down, whether for a formal event or otherwise, sleek, bouncy raven curls would be revealed, falling just past the middle of her back in length. Two tiny, silver loops pierce the cartilage of each ear and are usually unnoticeable unless an idle movement, such as brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, draws the eye to them. Softly arched brows rest above a pair of large, albeit not disproportionately so, light blue orbs that holds within them a certain candor, vivacity, and are allied to an expression more full of sensibility and intellect. A small nose sits above her, possibly, most prominent feature; full lips, darkened to a red hue, are almost always pulled into a sanguine smile that all but radiates affability.

At first glance, the woman's body seems to be unmarred by any sort of imperfections. Upon closer inspection, however, there would be a few rather obvious, but small, scars that stand out easily against her pale skin. Insignificant as they may be, these are usually hidden underneath her clothing - probably due to Demitria's self-consciousness over the injuries, though she would likely never admit it. Despite the blatant lack of strength and will to engage in melee combat, Demitria's body is toned and well-kept through long hours of exercise in between the time she puts in to better her magical expertise and subtle practice.

The woman speaks in a soft voice, sometimes even inaudible if one were to be standing too far away, but the Gilnean accent that laces each word she utters is unmistakable unless she purposely tries to hide it, but recent times have made her indifferent to doing so, thus making the evidence of her heritage rather easy to spot whenever she spoke. Despite her ever-changing wardrobe, Demitria is usually seen always wearing two specific items on her person: a simple silver locket, shaped in the form of an iridescent star, is clasped around her neck and is clearly held very near and dear to her. Often times she can be seen idly stroking the locket with a thoughtful expression, or a smile that easily suggests her thoughts are elsewhere. The second adornment is a flawless diamond solitaire that rests upon the ring finger of her left hand, sometimes hidden due to the fact that the woman often wears gloves, but when the engagement ring is revealed, it is all but flaunted with an undoubtedly beaming expression. A golden wedding band also sits upon her finger alongside the engagement ring, marking her as a married woman.

Upbringing
Demitria Rione was born in the heart of the Kingdom of Gilneas, the entirety of her childhood spent within the City's limits and very rarely venturing beyond. Her maidenhood, in turn, was also spent with her sister, Nellaria Rione, who is three years her junior. The two were near inseparable in their younger years, and only began to separate when Demitria started to show signs of magical talent at a young age. Her father, one of the lesser known apprentice mage trainers in the City, was ecstatic to say the very least. Under his tutelage, Demitria was able to learn and train as an apprentice throughout the years. The journey to magehood was difficult, tedious, but something she would later come to treasure in her older years.

The Path Into Darkness
Unbeknownst to anyone but herself, Demitria's knowledge into magic did not end with the last stages of her apprenticeship. Curious by nature, the young woman has been known, even to this day, to rifle through things that she most certainly should not be. Her efforts one day lead her to a most peculiar book, hidden amongst the stacks  in her father's collection and undoubtedly not mean to be found. Demitria fled with the pilfered tome, locked away in her shared quarters with her sister or in a darkened alley at the dead of night, working to find the key to the book's entry. It was unlike any tome she had ever before seen; black as night, the grimoire was menacing in its own appearance, yet somehow alluring in a way she found made her uneasy. The lock on the side of the book was discouraging to anyone that might look upon it, as there was no visible way to open it -- no keyhole, combination, or tools could break apart this binding. Aside from that, the other recognizable feature was the silver engravings upon the book's cover. Metal barbs, filed to a wickedly sharp point and about an inch in length, were embedded into the book, lined up in two short rows that were parallel to the other. Upon the spine of the book, the words were almost illegible: "Through the blood of the willing, the secrets of the unknown come to light."

It took days and multiple bouts of frustration until the idea finally came to her. On impulse, Demitria slid her bare arm between the barbs, though there was little room for her to do so without being scratched. Almost immediately once the limb was put into place, the barbs latched onto her as if they had come alive, sinking into her pale skin. An intense feeling of panic settled over Demitria, but still she did not dare rip her arm from the confines, and instead hopelessly watched as the blood was drawn from her. Just as she was beginning to feel lightheaded, the barbs lifted, leaving behind multiple puncture wounds in her forearm. The sight was all the more gruesome with her blood now stained upon the metal, though she soon came to realize that the impenetrable latch had come undone. So caught up was she in her own shock and panic, Demitria had not even noticed that it was opened. Once the wounds from the tome had been properly dressed and hidden away to avoid questioning, she opened the grimoire for the first time. The words that lay within disturbed her to say the least. Written in a careful script, the painted words and images upon each parchment were a shocking crimson, as if the blood that was drawn from her had soaked into each page and formed what now lay on the paper.

From then on, Demitria studied with renewed vigor, only this time, her efforts were hidden and discussed with no one. Over time and with continuous research, she sobered to the idea that what she was doing was frowned upon and not precisely accepted in society. While she never quite halted from continuing her practice, even going so far as to attempt the occasional spell in secluded areas she knew would never be traced back to her, Demitria was still discouraged. Her efforts were little more than dabbling, and always done in a way that would never compromise her safety or reputation.

Gilneas' Fall
More time passed, and then Demitria's beloved kingdom was overturned. Ironically enough, and foreseeable by none, Genn Greymane's own ambition had lead to his city's downfall. The worgen ran rampant, Gilneans were slaughtered, and Demitria just barely escaped alive. She witnessed countless of her friends fall, each death more gruesome than the last, and eventually was separated from her family. The chaos was staggering. Eventually, she was able to run back to her family's residence, a simple hole-in-the-wall type house, and lock herself away in the cramped cellar. How long she remained there was anyone's guess, but the traumatizing event left Demitria scarred, and even now, the simplest raps on a wooden door will cause her to jump and go into a panic, remembering all too easily what it was like to be in such a cramped space and hear the vicious worgen ripping apart everything she held dear.

From there, Demitria will tell the rest of the story as being "a blur and horrifically surreal." Her evacuation, much like being in hiding, required a good deal of calculation and stealth; the latter of which she was none too skilled in. Freedom lay just beyond the gates, she knew, following the path where the other civilians had hopefully escaped. But before that, however, she was halted by one of the rampant worgen. But no, she realized, this one was... different. It took several moments, but when she met the glaring gaze of the bloodthirsty animal and saw crystal blue eyes, the very same as her own, staring back, it dawned on her that she was seeing none other than Nellaria Rione, her beloved sister.

The realization came just as the animal did. Demitria had no time to think, simply act. Murmured incantations gave way to fiery spells, flung at the charging worgen's feet and causing it to yelp, effectively cutting off her sister's path. Still, she rounded the charred remains and snapped her jaws, trying once more to reach the woman across the way. With every ounce of life in her, aided by the adrenaline coursing through her veins, Demitria flung spell after spell and eventually, the barrage became intolerable. Nellaria Rione, her childhood partner, younger sister and friend, fled into the woods and disappeared from sight.

Dirt-covered, battered, exhausted and broken in every sense of the word, Demitria followed the abandoned path out of the city and eventually caught up to the refugees at Keel Harbor. During that time, she was nearly starved and almost dead on her feet. Having been thrust into a situation that she knew next to nothing on how to react or survive, her basic instincts were her guide, and even then it seems she had less than an inch of life left within her once she rejoined her kin.

Needless to say, the entire experience shaped Demitria into a different woman with a new perspective on life and its hardships. While the incident in Gilneas played a monumental role in who she is today, it also stole a piece of her; a piece that will forever remain in the memory of the life she was forced to leave behind.

The Journey to Stormwind
Traveling to the Kingdom of Stormwind was a mixed experience for Demitria. Most of her was still coming to terms with the pain and loss she had experienced at Gilneas, but a part could not deny the obvious curiosity that came with discovering new lands. Traveling by boat was something unknown to her on its own, but going beyond the Wall at all was unthinkable. However, a good portion of her time on the boat was spent locked in a cramped, spare room, replenishing her strength when she could and slowly but surely easing back into her regular diet to cure her malnourishment.

Her arrival in Stormwind was generally uneventful. Pushing aside her normal curiosity of a city she did not know, Demitria made the proper arrangements for a temporary residence in Stormwind. Having little to no coin to her name, the one-room living quarters were nothing short of homely. She managed to make a living by running insignificant errands for various shopkeepers around the city, tasks more fit for a courier than a trained sorceress. So deep was her depression that those miniscule errands were the only reason she had to leave her room, and once they were finished, she returned once more to solitude.

Enlisting in the League of Lordaeron
For weeks on end, Demitria spoke to no one and did very little besides going through the motions. Eventually, she berated herself and took frequent walks among the city, trying to enjoy the luxuries it had to offer. Even that did not last long, however, and Demitria once more found herself within the confines of that small room. It was one day during that time that a revelation came to her. The book she had been studying from was undoubtedly lost in the chaos of Gilneas, but regardless, her decision was made. From that day forth, Demitria swore to herself that no longer would she fall victim to uselessness. A greater calling urged her, and although she knew that the choice may result in her violent death, she once again threw herself into studies of shadow and later, fel magic. Gathering the information was difficult, to say the least, and soon she had to grow accustomed to shady dealings and masked persons. Her knowledge expanded, and so too did her desire to find a purpose with it.

The first time she came face to face with the iconic symbol of House of Menethil was seeing it embedded upon the chest of an armored man in the Cathedral. Many a time had she witnessed organizations of different values, goals and people wandering the streets, but none seemed to quite catch her eye. Days passed, and soon her interest was piqued upon seeing the same crest appear more and more. Hushed whispers were exchanged between her and a few random locals, a brief conversation that lead to the discovery of who the uniformed men and women were.

On a whim, Demitria approached the man at the steps and inquired about his order. He spoke briefly, clearly, and she could not help but be intrigued. Her internal struggle did not last long; soon, she was expressing her wish to join their ranks. He lead her inside the Cathedral and began assaulting her with questions about her past, her experience in combat, and unique abilities. Each was answered promptly and carefully, a nervous sort of hesitance taking over every so often. In the end, Demitria was handed a tabard with the same crest he bore, and she exchanged a beaming smile in return. With the loss of her home, her friends and her family, Demitria had come to suffer and regret many things, but dedicating herself to this cause was not one of them.