I was born in the wetlands a long time ago. I honestly don't know how long I was dead for, but I keep trying to resurface my memories of humanity. Most of them are starting to come back, I remember my born name but I still stick with the name I was given by my fellow Forsaken. I also remember I have a sister that may still be among the humans. Depending of course, how long I was dead for. Perhaps I should start from the start? I guess I'll start from when I found my calling, as a Warlock.
My sister and I were both magically adept children so our parents took us to a special school in the wetlands. There my sister begun to shine with a brilliant radiance, as she was able to cast seemingly for hours without needing so much as a break, but I met my limit, always at four spells, fucking fireball. But I did have a larger advantage against my classmates, I could take the most abuse of any of them, I had a lot more stamina than those rejects. My sister kept attempting to train me to conjure water, or even the frost shield. I couldn't grasp either of there concepts, nor could I really use a normal fireball, it seemed more of a blacker, paler fire.
After a few years of that sort of training, I got fed up with it, and ran away to silverpine forest. Let me rephrase what I meant when I said magically adept, I meant that I had a potency for dark, and powerful spells. Not that I was good at casting spells continuously, like most magic adepts. I began to delve myself in the history books, reading and reading and reading… till I found out something, I was never meant to be a mage; my qualities suggested that I was a warlock adept, Warlocks made poor mages mainly because of our lack of regeneration that mages seem to have in abundance. After I had discovered this I was already reaching my late thirties, I started training.
My physical body was deteriorating on its own, so I guess I looked undead before I actually died. When I started to grow a little ignorant of my strength, my home was attacked by another Warlock named Arugal, I eased into an ignorant sleep known as Death.
When I was revived under the Lich King I had started reading, and learning about history for the sake of my lord, and such I saw very little combat in all. As such I never really got stronger, I knew the bulk of our history on Azeroith mainly because that was my specialty, so people of LT, level would come to me for information about the past, so they could avoid messing up as badly in our future. As soon as the other undead began running away, I followed.
Then I went to the home, and started training. I learned to summon an Imp, a Voidwalker, and a Succubus. I'm training in skinning and tailoring, since enchanting and leatherworking never gave me its appeal. I still study history of course, but I spend the bulk of my time training, and reading, continuing my eternal thirst for knowledge.