Race: Half Elf/Human
Age: 32 Years Old
Sexual Role: Switch
Titles: Dead Eye
Likes: Alcohol, Killing
Dislikes: Criminals, Bullies
Born in the northern realms some time before the fall of Stormwind, Raven lived with her Human mother and High Elven father on a small farm away from the threat of war. Though being so far out on the edges of the Northern Lordaeron kingdoms left them vulnerable to things other than Orcs.
It was common for bandit raids to seek out those who had settled far from the protection of the Lordaeron borders. Unfortunately it would be the fate of the Dawnwood farm to meet such a raid.
A band of twenty bandit raiders set upon the family farm. They destroyed the livestock, stole all the valuables and burned the crops as was their cruel nature. Having noticed the raid was coming, it had bought Raven's parents time to hide their daughter under an old broken wagon at the back of the residence.
It was from there that Raven would watch the murder of both parents. Desperately trying to stay quiet in the fear of being discovered by the bandits. To kill the land owners was uncommon for bandits, but the leader held a deep hatred for Elves, made apparent by his racist remarks throughout the ordeal.
Neither parent would break from their story that their daughter had passed away in the winter, no matter how much they were tortured. Both died without revealing anything that could put their daughter in harms way. Their strength in the face of a horrific end ultimately causing Raven to remain quiet even though she had wanted to run out and end their suffering.
Raven, only fourteen years of age at the time, didn't have to wait long to get her revenge. Her father, a keen marksman himself had taught her how to handle a rifle to protect the livestock from the wolves of the Lordaeron countryside. She had become an excellent shot for her age and it would serve her well when she set her sights upon more difficult game.
Following a trail of stolen trinkets and empty kegs, Raven took to a hill overlooking the bandit camp where the scum and scoundrels cheered and celebrated their latest haul around a campfire. With the tears still fresh on her cheeks, she patiently sat on that hill until they had all fallen asleep from consumption of the ale and rum they had no doubt stolen from another innocent person or family.
Raven waited for three hours on that hill before she struck. When all of the bandits were together she began to shoot every single one of them without remorse or hesitation, when one went down she moved to the next with unbroken accuracy until only one of them remained. She had saved him for last and had chosen to wound rather than kill this particular bandit.
He was the leader of the group and he was unmistakable as such to her. His features were forever seared into her mind as the man who had violently raped her mother before cutting her throat with the blade he carried on his hip. At least until this particular moment, for now it was clenched in the small palms of a young half elven human girl who peered down at the begging wounded man with her cold emerald eyes.
She cut and sliced at his body until the dawn of the morning sun waved over the encampment, the light of a new day revealing the massacre to the waking world around her. The bandit leader was no longer breathing at this point, his body bloody and unrecognizable. Investigators from Lordaeron would later find that the man had been castrated, likely before he had died.
The news of the slaughter of this infamous bandit crew traveled far in the northern kingdoms, nobody would weep for these men and the kingdom of Lordaeron would not go out of their way to find the one responsible for the deeds. As for Raven, this was to be but the first of many run ins with the scum of the world.
In her thirties now, Raven has become a renowned slayer of the wicked and criminal. Her contracts taking her from Silvermoon to Stormwind as she sought to strike fear into the hearts of those who prey on the innocent and weak. She didn't do it entirely out of the goodness of her heart though, she had to have coin to pay for the alcohol and prostitutes who warmed her bed almost every night. The crown provided such coin in return for her questionable but undoubtedly effective means of ending the scum and villains of the Eastern Kingdoms.
Beneath that hard exterior and calculated coldness was a lonely girl, however. She fronted her desire for drink and sexual partners as nothing more than enjoying the perks of her job, which to a degree was true. Yet she partook for more reasons than she let on, the drink dulled her thoughts which helped her sleep at night and the men or women she brought to bed made her feel far less alone, if only briefly.
Below you can see a few of her appearances in various art: