Character Bio Thread

[Ulfricfan23]

Name:Matthew Garithos
Race:Human
Class:Paladin
Title:An elf's worst nightmare.
Nickname:Matt
Height:5.5 feet
Weight/Build:83 kg
Residance:N/A
Birthplace:Southshore
Motto:''Never trust an elf...NEVER!''

Physical description:A pretty young fellow,in his early 30's.Matthew is quite a fat fellow.Leftover mead can still be seen on Matthew's moustache,he drinks often.Due to his hatred of elfs,he always has a grin on his face when he watches elfs die.

Brief history:
Matthew Garithos is the little brother of Othmar Garithos.However,unlike Othmar,Matthew was born in Southshore instead of the lands that would be known as eastern plague-lands bordering Quel'Thalas where Othmar was born.Though,just like his brother,Matthew is also very racist towards elfs.His reason for being racist to the elfs is that when he was just a little boy,a filthy elf bullied him badly......and when Matthew grew up,he killed the elf that bullied him and swearing that he will NEVER trust an elf.When he heard of Othmar's death,he was devastated.Later he discovered that Othmar was slain by the undead thus joining The Scarlet Crusade.Matthew grew up the ranks until he became the crusade's best knight.One day,while coming back from his missions,he overheard some scarlet crusaders talking about how they want to let a few elfs into the crusade.Upon hearing this,he went into a blind rage and killed those crusaders in cold blood.Needless to say,he was thrown out of the crusade.He later found a fellow human named Aurrius the Pure who was recruting people into his order of knights,The Knights Templar.Matthew applied to the recuiting and he was accepted.Now,he is 2nd in command of the order.Yet,his pure hatred for Elfs and Undead alike still burns inside him,lashing out at any elf he sees.


NOTE:Garithos is the FAMILLY name.The name of Lord Garithos from Warcraft 3 is Othmar Garithos.

[Ozkum]

Name: Ikov Ironhill.
Race: dwarf.
Sex: male
Class: Hunter.
Height & weight: long for dwarves and average weight.
Birthplace: ironforge.
Current age: 56.
Motto: "Respect the nature and protect it even if ye lose everything."

Backstory:
Ikov was an kharanos guard When he was younger. he really loved the outdoors and and had a connection with it. He wanted to protect the people of kharanos. And he still does want to but he can't join the warriors because of his injuries he got from saving an bear cub from a 4 frost trolls. while the battle was happening the frost trolls attacked kharanos and many of his friends fellow guards and family members died. the bear saw Ikov as a saviour but the dwarves saw him as a traitor. They made him leave the guards at the age of 55.

Nowadays he's living his elder days at redridge mountains mastering his aim and and skills with his axes. But if battle calls he his boomstick and his animal companions are ready to answer.
(Sry it was boring I'm new).

[Sinrek]

Name: Ikov Ironhill.
Race: dwarf.
Sex: male
Class: Hunter.
Height & weight: long for dwarves and average weight.
Birthplace: ironforge.
Current age: 56.
Motto: "Respect the nature and protect it even if ye lose everything."

Backstory:
Ikov was an kharanos guard When he was younger. he really loved the outdoors and and had a connection with it. He wanted to protect the people of kharanos. And he still does want to but he can't join the warriors because of his injuries he got from saving an bear cub from a 4 frost trolls. while the battle was happening the frost trolls attacked kharanos and many of his friends fellow guards and family members died. the bear saw Ikov as a saviour but the dwarves saw him as a traitor. They made him leave the guards at the age of 55.

Nowadays he's living his elder days at redridge mountains mastering his aim and and skills with his axes. But if battle calls he his boomstick and his animal companions are ready to answer.
(Sry it was boring I'm new).

This is a one RP backstory for a dwarf hunter I've ever seen! I'd love to hear of Ikov's adventures like ... a journal of some sort.

[Justicarii]

Name: Alphonse Von Gagnon

Race: Human

Class: Warrior

House Name: [? ? ?]

Title: [? ? ?]

Nickname: [? ? ?]

Height: Average

Weight/Build: Hale

Residence: Itinerant

Birthplace: Alterac City, Alterac

Motto: "You pay, I slay."


Physical Description:

Average looking, though one can probably hazard a guess at his occupation and living with but a few glances;
The fifteen copper haircut that looks like it was done by a drunk, ailing gnome and has since been salvaged into a messy ponytail, the almost comical moustachio glued onto a face too young for it, pale blue eyes that still retain that glimmer of expectation and wonder to them.

His body is built for strenuous physical labour and it shows, even when dressed in a patchwork assortment of clothing and armours as he lugs around both a two-handed weapon of sorts(Normally something between a sword and a spear/Javelin) and a small one-handed sword & shield.

This man is no doubt one of those adventurers you hear so much about, though probably not a very successful one.


Brief History:

Alphonse's story, and by extension, that of his family is one of tragedy, comedic timing and keen improvisation skills.
Even though exact certainties have now been lost to time, shame and some well placed bribes, it can still be learned that his father was a meandering man-at-arms, serving this Lord one day, and another the next, should his fortune dictate it.

During one of his habitual bouts of chronic backstabbing, Alphonse's father thought it would be a good idea to throw his lot, fortune and family with the ruling bodies of Alterac as they quietly worked both sides of the conflict between the Alliance and Horde(It wasn't.)

Alphonse's mother took the now fatherless scamp, what little coin they managed to scrounge up and made a hasty retreat towards the southern kingdoms of humanity, what followed were uneventful years where both mother and son lost whatever comforts they might have gotten used to before, with the mother undertaking servile work, and Alphonse growing up to be wild, unruly and as prone to having a few of his bones broken as breaking those of his friends and foes alike.

Though fate was not quite yet done with his family, as Alphonse's mother, much like his father, thought she might fare better for herself and her progeny if she were to work with the Defias rebels, rather than to remain poor and content with her lot(She didn't.)

In the wake of this, Alphonse is left barely a man, with barely any skills to speak of(Save an interest in Alchemy) and a good, strong sword arm.

The few that know his story, have very little doubt that he will boldly(foolishly) follow the footsteps of his forebears, to become amoral and prioritizing none but oneself, but it is not like men like Alphonse are so keen on committing evil for evil's sake, Alphonse would only commit evil for Alphonse's sake.

[Daleron]

Name: Derzum
Race: Orc (Shadowmoon)
Sex: Male
Class: Shaman (Originally Shaman, turned Warlock, turned Ranger, turned Shaman...too much D&D guys, sorry...see bio. ;) )
Height: 210 cm
Weight/Build: Bulky
Residence: Crossroads, Barrens
Birthplace: Shadowmoon Valley, Draenor
Welcoming dialogue: "- Hmm...a/an *Insert race*. Let us speak in your tongue."

Physical Description:
An elderly orc, long past his prime with countless marks of battle on his body. His grey mane is let loose on his back. His facial scars make him repulsive on contrast to his demeanor.

Brief (Not so) History:
*Derzum was an FRPG-ed character at the Hungarian Gamestar forum more than ten years ago at a Warcraft Game we played for like three years. I planned to make a Warcraft 3 Custom campaign out of our adventures but realy, all i did was a teaser after all...https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BnsHM_1x0SE

Derzum of the Shadowmoon clan (Later known as: the Clanless) birthed at a time when the orcs were still close to the elements and knew not of daemonic influence. His youth is mostly commonplace for an orc at the time. He step on the path of shamans and when the time came he turned Warlock with the rest of the shamans of his clan...
(Continued later)

[Sleepy2190]

Name:Anberlin
Race:Forsaken
Class:Warlock
House Name:None
Title:None
Nickname:Lynn
Height:averagre 4'9'
Weight/Build:90lbs
Residence:orgrimmar
Birthplace:
Physical Description:
A thin frail looking woman stands before you with her back turned preoccupied with what seems to be sewing. " stop you're going to set ablaze my work!" She spouts angrily to an unknown person in front of her. You approach concerned at the raspy voice and anger you just heard. you speak,"lady..?" as you do the woman turns. What faces you is not a woman but an undead gaunt of face pale as a ghost and with two straps across her face covering her eyes. suddenly something small and hot tackles you, an imp, suddenly it, the undead...thing, starts speaking in a guttral deamonic tongue. "Achor she-ki!".
Brief History: Anberlin woke to an earthly smell and pure dark. she knew not of where she was or how she got there, in fact she couldn't remember anything aside her name and the dark powers of which she could command. Confused she tried to sit up but couldn't, feeling barrier of rotting wood surrounding her, she then remembered, she was in a coffin dead as anyone who lay buried 6 feet under.but how could this be she was obviously of her own mind not bound by the lich king.it then dawned on her the shadowy forces that have awoken her body and raise her from the dead. The forsaken. she had been risen by the scourge of lordaeron. Suddenly she heard thunk and some scratchy noises coming from above her. light appeared in a crack from the coffin lid revealing the rotting flesh and torn rags of her body. "Aye lass you awake in there" a voice spoke from above. "No leave me be i'm supposed to be dead!" Anberlin rasped. "i heard somethin' from the box lets get it up 'ere" Said another voice. The box then started to shift and rock as it was being lifted from the freshly dug grave." No Leave me here please!!!" anberlin begged as she was was set down presumably next to the hole from whence she was llaid to rest. "aye, you ere that she wants to be left dead. bet she don' even know what 'appened to 'er." said the first voice and it was true she knew nothing from her past or how she had died and admittedly was curious as to how she had gotten to this situation "let me out of this infernal box.." she said hesitantly "you gotta promise not to bolt when we do" said one voce "aye we may be ugly but we's not here to hurt you miss." said the other, they cracked open the lid to her coffin....Months later Anberlin found herself in orgrimmar. It's denziens less than hospitable but still felt more like home than in undercity. Anberlin awoke and started her daily routine, checking her stitching summoning her pesky imp Taruri, once she was done she made her way to the small inn across the way from her hiding place.

[Fedaykin]

Name: Leyanaya Shadowchild
Race: Forsaken (Former Scourge)
Class: Rogue
House Name: Balnir
Title: Inlife -Lady / Undead none
Nickname: (living) Little Leya
Height: 5'0''
Weight/Build: 92lbs
Residence: Living -Balnir Farmstead / Undead UC
Birthplace: Balnir Farmstead, Tirisfal Glades, Lorderan
Motto: 'Relax, you'll live longer.'

Physical Description:
A small, lithe, young woman stands before you, the corruption of her flesh only evidenced by her pallor and glowing eyes.
Despite being one of the Forsaken, she cares for her physical appearance and has taken up alchemy as a way of preserving her form. Quiet, light-footed, and unassuming, one never knows whether or not she is part of the conversation or even in the room, for that matter. Quietly she observes, only speaking when she has anything worth uttering, only taking action if its needed.

Brief History:
Born as the 5th child in the Balnir Family of Tirisfal, her lot in life was that of living in the background. Her older siblings were the stars of the family, and one drunken lout casually referred to her as 'that spare Balnir brat'. Unfortunately for him, Leyanaya was in the taproom that night, quietly celebrating and toasting a childhood friends commission into Lorderan's Military. Said lout was found battered, bloody, and paralyzed behinf the tavern with the phrase "Tirisfal's spare drunken loudmouth" carved into his forehead. No one in thier right mind connected the act to the quiet, polite, unassuming Balnir 5th scion. Later, shortly before Arthas and his scouring of Lorderan, Leyanaya found some other people with 'underhanded' leanings that were willing to help her hone her natural ability to blend in and disappear. She spent her free time away from her precious horses turning the tables on would be highwaymen and thieves, as she felt that even 'minor' nobility had an obligation, as much as high lords, to the people.
Artha's arrival and murder of her and her family should have been her end, however, after Illidan's spell and Sylvannus' betrayal of Arthas, she found herself in the middle of a ravening horde of scourge, devouring peasants, nobles, livestock...anything that lived. Disgusted and afraid, she fled, avoiding Scourge and newly awoken Forsaken alike.
Living on vermin and the occasional ripe corpse, she went back to her home, only to find it wasn't home anymore. Dismayed and alone, fearing death at every turn, she finally gave up. Approaching a group that she thought were militia, she waited for death. However, the group she approached was a Forsaken recovery party, looking for lost Forsaken among the Scourge wandering and Infesting Tirisfal. When they realized she was Forsaken, despite her pleading for the release of death, they brought her before Sylvannus herself, who decreed that Leyanaya was to be rendered unconscious, buried in Deathknell, to rise again, this time knowing she had a place and purpose.

Art Gallery:

[Nemain]

• Name: Selene Ridafer

• Race: Forsaken (Previously, Human)

• Class: Rogue

• Title: N/A

• Nickname: Selrida, Sel

• Height: 5'2'' (usually hunched down to 4'6'')

• Weight/Build: Very unhealthily wiry- lots of missing chunks there

• Residence: Currently: the Ghosts of Lordaeron's camp

• Birthplace: Brill, Tirisfal Glades

• Motto: "I am no one's puppet. Never again."

Physical Description:

• ((Pending for later))

Brief History:

• Many lifes were destroyed the day Lordaeron fell. Even among the survivors who managed to flee their home and cherished ones succumbing to the Plague: some just could not cope with what they'd seen, what they'd experienced. Worse, still, than seeing your loved ones turned into unholy monsters, however... Was, being the monster. Hunting down, slaying, biting and tearing the life out of yours- your beloved husband, your firstborn, whom was still too young to comprehend why mommy was acting so strange. And, then, years later- wake up, freed from the Lich King's control.... But with every memory of what you'd done.
  
  This, is the fate that befell a simple florist from Brill: a young mother of two, whose beautiful bouquets had been tainted with the Plague as one of many ways to worm it into the town, and through its people, into the City itself. There was no struggle, no telling of her imminent demise: one moment, she'd been picking flowers by the Tirisfal Lake, the next... Well, let's just say what made its way back home, was not Selene Ridafer anymore.

Art Gallery:

[Churchgoing]

• Name: Rose William

• Race: Human

• Class: Priest

• Title: The Searcher of Hearts

• Nickname: Rosie

• Height: Lofty

• Weight: Healthy

• Residence: Northshire Valley

• Birthplace: Elwynn Forest

• Motto: Wherever you go, go with all your heart.

Physical Description:

• Upon joining the Defias Brotherhood, Rose marked herself with the infamous cog tattoo; as it was the case with anyone who desired being part of the guild. Nevertheless, her greatest joy was when she was worn the special ring (The Collector's Ring) by Edwin VanCleef before his death.

Brief History:

• First-hand witness to the Second War and the destruction that followed Stormwind City succeeding the battle, Rose was driven to despair, as was the Kingdom of Stormwind. Within a few days a guild of artificers and builders took it upon themselves to breathe new life into Stormwind! As New Stormwind is being built, lost soul fragments are being found and Rose is feeling whole once again. Consequently, Rose committed herself to the Stonemasons Guild to eventually become one of the very few priests guided by the Light! And it happened that after the dispute between the nobles of Stormwind and the Stonemasons Rose associated herself with The Brotherhood.

Art Gallery:

• Unpicturable

[Drajjdasz]

Transfering

[Khazvarg]

Name: Thazgor (Dwarven) Raelor (Darnnassian)

Race: Night Elf

Class: Druid of the Claw

House Name: N/A

Title: The friend of the Dwarves

Nickname: "Dwarf-elf"

Height: 180 CM

Weight/Build: Muscular

Residence: The Hinterlands

Birthplace: Val´Sharah

Motto: "Home is were our heart belongs"

Physical Description:
For some even considered unnatural, Raelor´s height is his most remarcable aspect. Born shorter than the average Nigth elf, He proudly stands around 180 CMs. Despite that, he maintains a very muscular build. At his current age, he shows a long and bushy beard, wich is black with some silver threads around. He carefully maintains a completely bald cut, giving him even a more rare look for an elf. He has silver eyes and even bear-like traits in his face.

Brief History:
Raelor, how is he know for his people, was born 10.000 years ago in Val´sharah, because of his shorther heigth, he was alredy misjudged for his kin. Despite that, he learned the ways of the druid, time when he found a profund conection with the spirit of bear, and decided to become a Druid of the Claw. Along the years to come, he participated in some of the most relevating events for the Kaldorei, but always in a very unnoticed rol due to his misjudging. His displaced rol in the night elf society, and the deep conection to the spirit of bear leaded to him acquiring a very feral attitude and psyche, wich caused him some problems with the other druids later.
After the events of the third war, and tired of the derogatory look of his people, he decided to exile himself to the western kingdoms, settling in the Hinterlands, where he locked deep friendship and respect with the Wildhammer Dwarfs, and started to being called Thazgor wich means "Keeper of the wild" by them.

Art Gallery:


Use the "Basic" look desinged by Oscar¡ And give him your love¡
Art comming from: Oscar Shadowpriest Lazo.

[Sinrek]

Glad to see s'more fellow Kaldorei, alas, wasn't that suppose to be "home is where our heart belongs"? Minor mistypes here and there, but I'm glad you continue on!

Elune watch over you.

[Drajjdasz]

Transfering

[Khazvarg]

Name: Talus Dawnforge

Race: Dwarf

Class: Paladin

Profession Blacksmith

Title: Avenger of Anvilmar

Nickname: Tas (For friends) Dawnforger(within the order)

Height: 140 CM

Weight/Build: Sturdy

Residence: Ironforge

Birthplace: Ironforge

Motto: "Ancient Kings, let me be the instrument of yar wisdom", "The light of forge is within our hearts", "Light be with ya"

Physical Description:

Talus is an average dwarf both on height and build, yet he posses a sturdy and worked built due to his trade as a blacksmith. His hair is dark brown colored, and he mantains a medium large cut and a short beard, both carefully kept and braided. His body and face show some battle scars, but none being more remarcable than the other. He depicts a solemn demeanor on his face, and a strong inner fire and force of will on his attitude.

Brief History:

Talus was born sometime before the end of the war of the three hammers in the capital city of Ironforge. Son of a controversial and unofficial affair between old rival clans, his origins always caused whispering within the dwarves. He grew up with his mother and half brother on the recently founded city of Aerie Peak, learning from the wildhammers their ancient customs and traditions, yet never feeling a true belonging with the clan and their gryphon riding legacy.

Looking for a place to fit in, Talus became a blacksmith apprentice, this trade became his pasion and settled a path that took him far from the wildhammers themselves. Never getting fully accepted, he was sent to Dun Morogh for a fresh start, settling himself on Anvilmar as a local blacksmith. One night, the settle was overrun by a group of frostmane trolls, which killed some dwarves and momentarily hold control over the place. Talus, inspired by a inner fire of courage and justice, managed to lead a counter attack with some of the settlers, driving back the trolls and regaining control of Anvilmar. Being severely wounded during the fight, Tas was moved to Ironforge in order to heal his wounds, from then, he stood on the city and gain a vast renow as a first class blacksmith, and was always know as the avenger of Anvilmar for the settlers.

Recently, Tas was invited by The Order of the Knights of the Silver hand to work with them as a blacksmith, yet he felt the calling of the crusade and the blessing of the light and joined the order becoming a Paladin. By his deeds and accomplishments, Khazvarg was renamed as Talus Dawnforge, or Dawnforger, by his brothers within the order.


Art Gallery:

[Drajj]

[deleted]

[Rydertheking]

Name: Ryder
Race: Human
Class: Warrior
House Name: None
Title: None
Nickname: Ryder

Height: 6'2
Weight/Build: Lean but has muscles

Residence: Homeless
Birthplace: Lordearon

Motto: "Am I worthy of taking a life, or am I just a demon..." - "To be stronger, you must be willing to sacrifice!"

Physical Description:
Black, short hair. Eyes with no empathy nor emotion.

Brief History:
Ryder is a man of few words. He witnessed his parents death during the Scourge of Lordaeron, and out of pure luck he escaped with his uncle who sadly had his life taken by the Scourge as he sent Ryder away on a carriage. As years went by, Ryder grew to become apathetic to those around him, and decided to seek strength in order to take revenge to his previous lord, Arthas Menethil. But he knows this is a pipe dream, but a dream must start from somewhere...

[Jam]

Jam

Aliases: Chef, J-man, J
Relatives: Innkeeper Wiley (adoptive father)
Current Affiliation: Horde, Steamwheedle Cartel, Broken Keel Tavern
Former Affiliation: Frostwolf Clan, Venture Company
Date of birth: Year 1
Place of birth: Alterac Valley
Species: Orc
Gender: Male
Height: 7'2"
Weight: 425
Eye color: Blue

Jam is a large orc with an intense countenance. Even when relaxed and jovial there is a severity to his gaze and gravitas in his words. He works daily in the kitchen of the Broken Keel Tavern as a cook, cleaner, and cart runner, gathering supplies for the business, as well as for Wiley's engineering. He has served as the cook in the Broken Keel Tavern since Year 13 when he was traded to Wiley by members of the Venture Company to settle an outstanding balance.

Birth and Discovery: Year 1
The wind howled and whistled as it tore through the rocks in Alterac. Draka was in her birthing bed and the Frostwolves gathered around her, eager to see the birth of their chieftain's heir. As they moved towards the tent a word began coursing through the crowd. "Green." The whelp had green skin. "He is corrupted," she thought. Aghast, a female orc, belly rounded with child staggered back from the crowd. Durotan and Drek'Thar were speaking to the mass of Frostwolves. Her thoughts were a deafening cyclone. She was sure they were discussing the end of the child. The banishment of it's mother. They wouldn't abide a green skinned spawn. Her hand flew to her belly and she set her jaw in determination. She had left her home following Durotan's orders. His assurances that it was "best for the clan." She had watched as her lifemate died a coward's death from a swampspider's poison. She would not die, weak from giving birth, to the whims of an imprudent chief. She had seen a yeti cave on their journey in, not a full day's journey from where she now stood. They were a warrior race, she would die a warrior's death.

The goblin cursed as he entered the cave. The smell of burnt yeti hair, rotting meat, and feces inundated the frozen air. "Smells like money." the foreman said. He was still entertaining what, exactly, it smelled like when he saw a lifeless brown mass on the cavern floor. Surrounded by dead yetis yet too small to be one, it looked like a large human, only uglier. Stark naked and with an axe in it's hand. The goblin struggled to roll the humanoid over. As he did, a grunt escaped from within the corpse. Greed lit a fire in the goblin. A small yeti, a parasite, a flesh eating spider? "Look at this," he yelled, to no one in particular, as he produced a small knife. The goblin cut open the orc and withdrew her son. The small orc flailed about as the goblin held it up by one leg. "Hells," he said to the infant, "You and the axe are worth more than a day's wage." "Send in the 'volunteers', it is all clear," he yelled, chuckling to himself. He spun on his heel, hooked the axe under it's blade and headed for the cave entrance.

Venture Company Internment, Fel involvement, and Release: Years 1-13
Jam learned to speak by listening to the goblins on the journey around the Eastern Kingdoms and back to the barrens. He was kept in a sack whenever he wasn't behind a locked door. They told him he was uglier than a gnome, with teeth like a pig and that they'd have to pay anyone who saw him. They poked his tusks and mocked his skinny ears. At three years of age, Jam stood taller than his goblin taskmasters but did not resist their orders. At five he was removed from the travelling expedition team he had been on and placed at the Boulderlode worksite. There, the ventrue company had made an agreement with rogue warlocks. Jam was empowered as the raging orcs of the invaiding force, forced to develop to a more usable age and size by their fel magics and demonic assistance.

Kept hidden from sight, Jam was overseen by human and ogre taskmasters due to his size. He was kept at the head of the workforce but separated from the other slaves. Guarded like a trade secret, the wars and events of Kalimdor had no impact on Jam as he toiled in the dirt, dust and rock.

The first time Jam saw another orc he was 11 years old. The chaos that ensued took all five human taskmasters and one ogre to quell. After subduing him, Boss Copperplug decided that it wouldn't be cost effective to kill Jam and lose an experienced and relatively content worker or to lose his newly acquired, and much larger, orc. Copperplug made the two orcs an offer. In exchange for his continued service, Jam would be taught to speak the language of the orcs and would also take on new responsibilities at the site. Jam did not hear any terms offered to the large orc that still looked alien to him.

As his orders stated, Jam ran mine carts and quelled disputes amongst the smaller "volunteers," as they were called, when directed. He didn't fear the electric jolt from whatever goblin machinery they were currently testing as a motivator, nor did he fear the beatings of the gnoll or human taskmasters. He only spoke goblin and orcish, so the jumbled mess the gnolls gibbered as they kicked or threw things at him just sounded comical. The humans sounded nicer but there intent was the same. The only thing Jam cared about was getting to talk to his friend, Rekgor, at the end of each day. Rekgor was a crafty old orc and Jam admired him. He was shorter than Jam, standing 6'5" but he was almost double his girth. Rekgor explained to Jam that he was a prisoner and told him of the orc's story outside his captivity. He spoke of their bloodlust, and the lethargy that gripped them now. He reminisced of the old ways, of shamanism and of another world. Jam was in awe of the stories but never doubted Rekgor's sincerity. Jam spoke very little and Rekgor talked almost constantly, growing more energetic and strengthening each day. Jam came to trust Rekgor completely. Numerous times Rekgor seemed to do the impossible, stopping rocks from falling right as Jam was sure they would. Producing water from the rock when Jam could find no stream. For two years Jam and Rekgor dug at the site in the Northern Barrens, turning the boulder lode worksite into the boulder lode mine.

The Barrens sun burned down on the Boulder lode mine as Wiley approached in his wagon. "Copperplug!" He shouted. "Where's my payment?!" Wiley looked around at the scene before him. "Slaves," he thought disgustedly, "No different than the trolls."

"Ahh, Wiley," Copperplug began, coming down from the second level of the site's outbuilding. "Let me cut ya short, pal." Wiley interjected, "I ain't here ta hear your pleasantries or excuses. I'm here for my gold, or Gazlowe'll be here for your hide. This is the balance." With that Wiley tossed a small clamped bill at Copperplug. Copperplug looked over the bill and then looked past Wiley at his wagon. "You alone, Wiley?" he asked perfidiously. "What's it matter to you, Coppertop? Send one of your lackeys to get my gold already, I got the cook watchin' shop." Copperplug tucked the bill into his vest pocket and looked back at an ogre "Send for the green," he said, "both of them." "Money'll be up in just a tick ol' Wiley," Copperplug sneered.

The sunlight was brighter than Jam wanted to endure as he approached the mine's entrance. He'd been digging inside and not allowed to leave for at least a year. "Listen, pup," his old friend said in a whisper, "whatever this is, it isn't good." The ogre that fetched the pair walked in front of them, his footfalls mixing with the pings and thuds of mining. "If anything starts, I want you to run. You've a life to live and I've a lifetime of blood to pay for." Jam nodded his understanding. "This conversation has happened before," he remembered, "close to when we met. This old orc is certain he must die to make up for his past." The piercing sun broke Jam's thought. The two orcs emerged into the warm Barrens air. Jam noticed the new goblin immediately. He was dressed nicer, not wearing leather or ragged cloth. His outfit looked soft. He was cleaner than any goblin he'd seen and had gold jewelry in his ears. "Here's my payment, Wiley," Copperplug said as the orcs arrived by his side, "These two are gonna allow you to leave and we're going to be even." "Well Copperslug," Wiley said chuckling, "I see you still think you see opportunity when you're staring at defeat. That's how ya ended up owing me so much if you recall. Thalo'thas, let's show 'em the collection cannon!" The canvas top on the back of the wagon was tossed aside and Jam raised his brows as a tall slender humanoid was revealed leaning on a large gun. "You see "Boss"," Wiley said mockingly, "What you've done here is brought me my payment, yeah? Cuz if that wasn't why you called these two orcs, I'm going to be forced to ask T up there to light the cannon." Copperplug stared ahead at the ship size cannon. "Yeah... Yeah Wiley, that's what I was doing. I don't have the money to pay ya," he blubbered, "so I called for my two best workers! You can take 'em! We're even now right?"

[Cervantes]

Here is my new character Azraelon The Vengeful for my Dungeons and Dragons campaign
but i'm also going to make him on turle wow when High Elfs are live.

Name: Azraelon
Real Name: Kaldur
Race: High Elf, Moon Elf
Class: Blood Hunter/ Hunter
House Name: Silent Run
Title: The Vengeful
Nickname: Tracker of Sin
Height: 5.9
Weight/Build: Slim 65 kg
Residence: Wander
Birthplace: High Forest / Eversong Woods
Motto: My Blood is my fuel to victory

Physical Description:
A slim build with white skin like the snow, long tied back white hair with elements of silver. Piercing blue eyes with a few specks of gold.

Brief History:
Azraelon believes he is the only survivor from his home village in the High Forest / Eversong Woods after the total destruction of his village, he looks for any way to gain new powers to aid him in his quest for revenge. It seems undead were the ones who are reasonable.
He sought out the Blood hunters / hunter and studied under his new master who was called Salvodor Darkmore.
He trained under the Darkmore order for a number of years. Darkmore told him about the power of the Worgen and told him that if you want to destroy the evil forces you need to become stronger. take this power and become a full member of the order, which he did. Now with his new skills and ability, he has become an adept mercenary and bounty hunter.

Darkmore order of the Worgen are different from most Worgen. They aren't mindless creatures. they can control their emotions via medication, magic, and self-discipline.These Worgen may resist being overcome by their feral instincts.

[Yvory]

Name: Vendel Kingslight, Son of the noble Horace Kingslight the "Hammer"
Race: Human
Class: Warrior
House Name: House of the Wolven storm, supposedly destroyed a few years ago.
Title: /
Nickname: Ingame knowledge
Height: 1m 91
Weight/Build: 91 Kg
Residence:Ingame knowledge
Birthplace: Lordaeron, Caer Darrow
Motto:"Nobility ain't coming from a title, maggot, strongest paladin Ive ever known came from a goddamn farm. "

Physical appearance: Middle age man with a wild aspect but yet noble stance.
Brown long haired, and a face covered by a cared beard, his blue eyes, vigilants, stand out quite well, especially during the day.

Well built, he seems to be physically strong and knowledgeable about hard work.

He has a old scar drawing a C in his uncovered neck.

[Oaksandcompany]

(Work in progress, will be updating as I get the time. I don't currently plan on doing anything in-depth at the moment, so it will be an informal profile. If I do end up going further, for reference, I average 2-6 paragraph replies. I just tend to RP better when I am not sober, as I have issues with memory retention and focus otherwise.)

• Name: Tseiran (they/them)

• Race: Tauren

• Class: Shaman

• Title: Wanderer

• Nickname: Loafer, Smelly

• Height: Roughly 10 feet

• Weight/Build: Heavy, strong, chubby.

• Residence: Nowhere in particular, but prefers cooler climates

• Birthplace: Thunder Bluff

• Motto: "Relax for two seconds, you might enjoy it."

Physical Description:

• Black and white Holstein with a long, scruffy mane that is rarely brushed. Smells strongly of strawberries and skunk weed. Clothing tends to be light and comfortable. (won't be fully set on this until I get a commission)

Personality:

• Tseiran is rather dopey and tired, easygoing. They are mostly deaf and have rather bad eyesight, instead relying as much on smell and touch as much they do with sight and hearing. From the outside, they seem lazy, often found in the shade munching on something or other, usually smoking something pungent. They hate to laugh at terrible puns and often complain about others working too hard.
  
  Despite their outward appearance, they tend to have a strong work ethic and have no issue going out of their comfort zone to help someone in need, whether it be carrying something heavy or deterring a ravenous beast from it's next meal. What they won't help with, however, is senseless violence. Like nearly any Tauren, Tseiran prefers a close connection with nature, taking only what they need and giving back when they can.

Brief History:

• Tseiran tends to avoid talking about their past as often as they can. What they will to you is that after growing up in Thunder Bluff, Tseiran found their calling by running deliveries between the various camps, allowing for them to be at there as little as possible.

Other:

• Likes:

Thunderstorms - Tseiran loves to lie out on the ground and watch the clouds light up while listening to the rain.
Trees - the sound wind blowing through the leaves, the trees creaking as they sway.
Nighttime - seeing the moon against the silhouette of the trees

• Dislikes:

Heat - Tseiran doesn't handle the heat very well, it tends to sap their energy.
Alcohol - their stomach doesn't handle it very well
Flying - Tseiran has a pretty bad fear of heights and a fear of falling

• Art:

Eventually! I'll get a commission when enough money comes in. : P

RP info:

• When I'm playing, I'm RP'ing as if Tseiran is playing the game. Very informal, I know lol. I have no plans on getting into more in-depth RP at the moment, but there will be a separate section that addresses in-depth RP if it happens.

[Muthari]

Name: Enthia
Race: High Elf
Class: Mage
House Name: N/A
Title: N/A
Nickname: Thia
Height: 5'2
Weight/Build: Slim
Residence: Stormwind
Birthplace: Quel'Thalas
Motto: Progress isnt made without mistakes.
Personality: Reserved but optomistic.

Physical Description:
Appearing young and lithe in stature, the elf seems like she would crumble with a stern backhand. Physically she isnt imposing at all. Deep red hair, often wore short. Sea blue eyes- She is about average for an Elven lady.

Brief History:
After the fall of Quel'Thalas the young mage had to make her way south. Though with her extremely limited knowledge of magic, the mage found herself more a burden than aid. The other mages far to busy with relief efforts to truly teach her anything- she opted to take the first chance she could to get to stormwind.

Her aptitude for magic is low enough though that even the various guilds within the districts refused her. Now adays she does her best with the limited magic she knows to make ends meat.


((Roleplayers note))
This character is ment to be a longplay session. Something that will take alot of time for her to devlop.
I prefer long drawn out scenes, slice of life, character building and D&D styled combat.
She is not an adventurer yet, She is not even a mage really. Little more than a village girl who can conjure a candle flame.
I am activly seeking some roleplay friends to help play this story out.

[Littlebirdd]

Name: Tajassa
Race: Troll (Revantusk Forest Trolls)
Class: Shaman
House Name: N/A
Title: N/A
Nickname: N/A
Height: 7'1
Weight/Build: Kinda skinny but a bit buffy.
Residence: Currently at Orgrimmar sometimes at Amani'Alor.
Birthplace: Revantusk Village at The Hinterlands
Motto: "Dont be cursin' at the horde or you gettin a voodoo curse from Tajassa!"

Physical Description:

Tajassa is a young savage Revantusk Troll Shaman, he's that type of troll that never forgive and give no second chance to an enemy, he's so hostile to the alliance, he forgets about ''honor'' sometimes if he couldn't control himself and then kills an honorless, unarmed and defense less enemies just because of his bloodthirst, he doesn't kill them by chopping them but putting a curse or throwing lightning bolts at them by their lightning mojo and communicating with the elements.

A really evil enemy but a cool and sometimes funny friend to the horde, he's that type of troll who doesn't go so noisy, his warpaint on his face ressembles an oni skull, means that he's a spellchucker or a mystic from his tribe.

He is a monstrous looking Troll, red eyes, very sneaky, hideous and a trickster.


Brief History:

Tajassa is one of the Revantusk Trolls that has been sent to Kalimdor by their Elder Torntusk to aid the horde.


Art Gallery:

[Aeliren]

Currently a Work in Progress.

Biographical Information:

• Name: Reldo Cogspanner

• Race: Gnome

• Class: Warrior

• Height: 3'6"

• Weight/Build: Athletic

• Residence: Tinker Town, Ironforge

• Birthplace: Gnomeregan, Dun Morogh

Physical Description:

• [Description Here]

Brief History:

• A professional trooper, Reldo Cogspanner joined Gnomeregan's military at a young age, and fought both in the Second War against the Orcish Horde and against the troggs in the fall of Gnomeregan. After Sicco Thermaplugg's grand betrayal and the exodus of the remaining gnomes to Ironforge, Reldo has begun to travel the world, taking on people's hardships and strengthening himself through them in order to prepare himself for the war to retake Gnomeregan.

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Biographical Information:

• Name: Erin Coilspring

• Race: Gnome

• Class: Hunter

• Height: 3'3"

• Weight/Build: Fit

• Residence: Tinker Town, Ironforge

• Birthplace: Gnomeregan, Dun Morogh

Physical Description:

• [Description Here]

Brief History:

• [Backstory Here]

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Biographical Information:

• Name: Megwynn Wyatt

• Race: Human

• Class: Rogue

• Title: Operative

• Nickname: "Meg"

• Height: 5'5"

• Weight/Build: Lithe

• Residence: Various

• Birthplace: Boralus, Kul Tiras

Physical Description:

• [Description Here]

Brief History:

• Born in a traditionally military family, Megwynn Wyatt was raised by her aunt and uncle after her parents were killed during the battle of Theramore when Lord Admiral Daelin Proudmoore's blockade was destroyed. Growing up she followed in her parents' footsteps and joined the Kul Tiras Navy, however her natural aptitude in the ways of subtlety and subterfuge were noticed by her superiors during training, and she was offered a place as a covert operative, travelling abroad in service to her nation.

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Biographical Information:

• Name: Drenal G. Cogshanks

• Race: Goblin

• Class: Rogue

• Title: "Acquisitions Expert"

• Height: 3'4"

• Weight/Build: Pudgy

• Residence: Razor Hill, Durotar

• Birthplace: Bilgewater Port, Isle of Kezan

Physical Description:

• [Description Here]

Brief History:

• [Backstory Here]

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Biographical Information:

• Name: Delios Silverblade

• Race: High Elf

• Class: Paladin

• Title: Knight of the Silver Hand

• Height: 5'9"

• Weight/Build:

• Residence: Wandering

• Birthplace: Quel'thalas

Physical Description:

• [Description Here]

Brief History:

• [Backstory Here]

[Pistol]

Name: Rotheart
Race: Forsaken (Formerly Human)

Class: Warrior

House Name: N/A

Title: Executor of the Hand of Wrath

Nickname: N/A

Height: 5'11" (1.80 Meters)

Weight/Build: Somewhat muscular

Residence: Wherever he is stationed

Birthplace: Hillsbrad, Kingdom of Lordaeron.

Re-Birthplace: Silverpine Forest, Kingdom of Lordaeron.

Motto: We do what we must.

Physical Description:

Rotheart was once an average middle aged man in service of Lordaeron's army. Now, he is a walking corpse ruined beyond recognition. His face is shrunken in tightly on his skull from rot giving him a deathly visage. Numerous wounds dot his body with his open chest cavity being held shut only with thick pieces of leather.

Brief History:
Rotheart once bore a different name when he was but a humble family man in service of Lordaeron's army. Bloodied in the Second War and butchered and raised in the Third alongside his entire family, he felt the greatest of betrayals when his sacrifice was not enough for his former countrymen to accept him. Overtime Rotheart became a somewhat accomplished soldier in the Dark Lady's army before briefly working for the Southfury Trading Company. This was not to last as Rotheart was recalled to serve as Executor of the Forsaken Vanguard which became the Hand of Wrath.

Rotheart was killed in action while fighting alongside the Hand of Wrath at the Warsong Lumber Camp

Gallery:
Executor Rotheart with some of his comrades

[Niralthas]

Hello turtles,

Niralthas Moonsong, or simply Niralthas, stands tall among Night Elves at roughly 7 feet 8 inches. Despite his imposing stature, he exudes an air of casual refinement, draped in loose yet somewhat elegant attire. His affable demeanor is punctuated by a perpetual smile, occasionally revealing a missing canine earned in some forgotten Auberdine escapade.

As the Alliance Representative of The Salty Sailor Tavern Community in Booty Bay, Niralthas embodies camaraderie and friendship with his motto, "Everybody can turn out to be a helpful friend." He frequents the tavern, engaging in lively conversations or simply enjoying a pint of his favorite brew.

Niralthas wears a necklace adorned with a crescent moon, symbolizing his connection to the night and perhaps hinting at a deeper, more mystical aspect of his personality.

Despite his easygoing nature, Niralthas has his limits. In moments of extreme frustration or anger, he may flash a rare scowl or glare, but he never resorts to what he considers "foul cursing," preferring instead to handle situations with grace and diplomacy.

[Kiltzombie]

Arkei Windtree (my son's names IRL initials are R and K so spelled phonetically is Arkei. The first borns name means an ash tree and the youngest means mountain breeze and so you get Windtree)
Night Elf
Druid
Cenarion Circle
Physical description: work in progress
Story:
Born in Starbreeze Village,425 BDP. His mother was a priestess of Elune and his father a leather worker. From an early age Arkei showed an affinity for nature and an aptitude for druidism. Becoming a Druid would be the expected path for any male with his talents and a path he yearned to take.

That path would be forbidden to him. His mother did everything in her power to keep Arkei from becoming a druid for it had only led their family to ruin in the past.

Akei's grandfather was a druid. He fought in the War of the Satyr. The war cost many lives. The night elves were desperate and so some druids took up desperate measures. He became a Druid of the Scythe, utilizing the form of the pact and ultimately was lost to unrelenting rage. He was among those banished to the Emerald Dream leaving his daughter fatherless and the family shamed.

With his dream of becoming a druid forbidden by family history and pain, Arkei dabbled in leatherwork and healing. Being a male he could not become a priest of Elune but still learned what he could from his mother. Time passed with Arkei just going through the motions of life yearning for something more.

The Burning Legion returned and is at the footsteps of Mount Hyjal. All of his people fight to save Azeroth. Arkei went to war to help heal the wounded. He does all he can but a sense of helplessness and rage starts to fill him. He wants to do more. Something is telling him he can do more.

Weariness sets in after seeing so many lives lost and nature destroyed. Arkei goes to the front lines not caring for his own safety. Sentinels are bravely holding the line. The Druids are fighting in their bestial forms. The Priestesses of Elune are healing the wounded.

Through the chaos of battle he sees his mother. An infernal is breaking through the lines. Arkei charges towards his mother but it's too late. The group or priestesses are incinerated in fel fire. The rage that had been building overwhelmed him and he was immediately filled with a primal vigor. He kept charging but now on all fours. Filled with bestial strength and agility he leapt into the demonic horde. He was no longer a Night Elf but a bear, filled with all of nature's wrath.

Arkei found his way to the path. The way of the Druid was his calling.

[Triana]

Birth name: Unknown/uncertain

Used name: Yx

Honorifics: Hedge-mage, of the Flame, of Kalimdor, Wrathcaster

Age: Twenties

Race: Human (Alteraci)

Occupation: Hedge-mage; self-employed; cultist

Home: None/itinerant currently; formely Ratchet

Likes: FIRE. Talking to fire, looking at the sun, fervent worship of the Hungering Flame

(and to a lesser but notable degree: Outer Space, Free Cities, Certain pirate groups, spicy food, Goblin 'culture', the Steamwheedle Cartel, the idea of science, Twilight's Hammer)

Dislikes: The absence of something, (anything!) being on fire. Those who doubt the indescribable Hunger of the Flame {angrily}.

(and, again, to a lesser extent: anything that threatens free cities, Stormwind politics, Theramore legal system)

Interesting facts:

-Started own religion? (It is not clear to anyone who talks to him what he or his cultist activities are about, beyond the obvious)

-Not always all that coherent

-Lifetaps down to nothing when not in skirmishes— no compromise.

-Doesn't really understand what the "Alliance" or “Horde” is.

-Tends to be "brought along" generally and doesn't feel that strongly about most conflict.

-Speculated that the name YX comes from being simple symbols to draw in sand.

-Generally manic, though with some extended periods of calm.

-Harnesses flame direct from the stuff of the Twisting Nether

-Family/friends prior to his 'conversion' worry for his well-being

-Single target hellfire

Alignment: Chaotic neutral

Background story:

The exact details and dates regarding Yx are not clear. The following is the best approximation from those close to him.

Yx was born to a merchant family of humans living in Kalimdor. It is generally said that the family was neither of great station nor standing but were known for having deep roots in the land of Alterac. They had fled the wars ravaging the Eastern Kingdoms early and had done relatively well for themselves. Despite this, it was said that their Alteraci heritage and the haste with which they fled led their fellow humans to shun and distrust this family, and that they were forced to seek umbrage with those outside of their race.

Fortunately for the family, they had already established trading ties in the Free City of Ratchet. Although it is not known how, when, or why exactly it happened, Yx came to be involved with the notable warlock coven that practices there. In this coven of goblins his initiation into magical instruction took place.

Sometime after reaching adulthood Yx's proficiency in fire magic began to become apparent. Initially, attempts were made at harnessing the magical flames in the name of 'science' and profit, but these ended in misfortune for the not-magically-proficient. In any case, his renown grew in coastal Kalimdor and he, emboldened, set forth on a journey Southward Bound.

It was on this journey that whispers in his campfire led Yx deep into the deserts of Tanaris. There he stayed for many months without giving word. When he returned, nearly naked and clearly forever changed, he began to practice a new religion. He saw clearly the Hunger of the Flame.
Nowadays, Yx adventures, fishes, helps out, and continues to participate in skirmishes, though his motivation for doing so seems to be more spiritually driven than out of any sort of allegiance.

Despite his state of mind and being, Yx has been tempered and brought somewhat more into the fold by his many companions. Look for Yx around Northern Kalimdor. He can often be found beside the fire at the Ered Ruin base camp in Demonfall Canyon.

[Widogast]

•Name: Firion Dawnseeker
•Race: Quel'dorei (High Elf)
•Class: Swordsman (Warrior)
•House Name: Dawnseeker
•Height: 6'2"
•Weight/Build: 226 lbs
•Residence: The Open Road
•Birthplace: Sunwell Isle, Quel'danas

It's not about whether I can or can't: I'm doing this because I want to. I decided while riding those rickety carts into Loch Modan that I was going to retrieve my family's blade. If I've got to die fighting for that, then I'd die! Simple as that!

He spoke of his death, smiling.

•Physical Description and Personality Profile:
Handsome, youthful features marred by the scars of conflict carry an expression of optimism and mirthful dreams to push him ever-forward. When time allows, the pale-haired elf was often seen laughing with his friends and day dreaming off into the distance of a reckless goal that most other elves balked at when he spoke of. Living up to the name Dawnseeker, Firion's body was a muscular temple hewn from hardship and necessity, rather than devotion to aesthetic that left him with a uniquely strong frame contrasting his peers.

Function over form when it came to equipment, Firion was unashamed to arm himself with items of dwarven make or even to draw upon enchantments from the trolls. A forward-thinker and unconcerned with the conflicts of the Alliance and Horde, Firion saw the world as an opportunity to find allies and friendly rivals around every corner. The world was too bleak, filled with too much hardship to go seeking to make more of it.

What good would all the treasure from adventures be if I was alone? I can only get there with help. Without these guys behind me, I don't think I'd make it very far but I'd still try. Lucky, I don't have to think about that!

•Brief History:
Born to the prestigious House Dawnseeker, Firion applied himself to live up to the name in every way that he could. It wasn't a question of whether or not he would be the best with a sword, it was a matter of that was all he could conceive to be. Tireless, humble, and willing to train until his hands bled, the young elf lived in the most idyllic place in the world to support his lifestyle. Devoted to the art of swordplay while his peers took to the bow or arcane arts, Firion sought to prove that the blade was equally as deserving of respect for its craft. Inspired and determined by the hero of his house that claimed the Sister Blade and cut a name for elven blademasters into history during the Troll Wars, Firion would have likely come to be known as a peerless swordsman would things have turned out differently and he was allowed to hone his skills over the course of decades, if not centuries.

The invasion led by Lordaeron's ghostly prince, the scarring of Quel'thalas, and the subsequent destruction of the Sunwell broke all aspirations and dreams of artistic aspiration and self-exploration, leaving a void in its wake that made each living elf important, a remnant that held the responsibility to the fallen that they must persist and reclaim what was lost. Too weak at the time to join the hero-prince Kael'thas Sunstrider, Firion would have to watch as his best friends and fellow swordsmen that survived the fall went off to fight for their futures, only for him to never see them again.

When finally the choice was made to seek refuge south in the arms of the Alliance, Firion had slowly felt his strength returning with his resolve. The sickness he felt in the wake of the Sunwell was fading, even though he did not make ample use of magic, his youth and the extent of his injuries in the absence of flourishing magic are what caused him such lethargy. Upon reaching the safe haven of Loch Modan and reclaiming the abandoned Farstrider Lodge, Firion set off on his own to seek adventure and do the impossible, hoping to breathe an air of hope back into his people like Thalorien used to do.


•Allies:

• Areia Silverlock, Argent Confessor

• Grimcackle, Gnoll Huntsman

• Isumea, Banshee Assassin

• Horgrag, Ogre Chieftain

•Art Gallery:
Face Reference:

https://twitter.com/AlexineSkiba/status ... 40/photo/1

Body Reference: (Warning: Heavy anime scars, little bit of blood)

https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/4234786

Thalorien Dawnseeker Concept Art, Inspiration:

https://www.artstation.com/artwork/AqXwqe

[Bisbyhoughton]

Name: Durgis Bak

Race: Goblin

Class: Hunter

Title: Rock and gem enthusiast


Height: 3'2"

Weight/Build: Slim

Residence: Sparkwater

Birthplace: Sparkwater

Motto: "Crack it open, see if it's shiny!"

Physical Description: A lithe little shit whose arms are covered in scratch marks from his various animal companions. He keeps a cap on at all times to keep the coastal Kalimdor sun off his head and a bag full of mining supplies and daggers on hand to deal with anybody who dares interrupt his frequent seaside siestas.

Brief History: Born and raised in Sparkwater among the Durotar Labor Union, Durgis has never been much of one for taking orders. As a young goblin, he frequently found himself on the receiving end of a salvage boss's "productivity encouragement device" due to his slackadaisical nature but that did not stop him from developing a profound love for all things related to geology and mining in between naps. Having been respectfully cut from the union's on-call labor pool due to lack of giving a shit about making yet another boss some more money, Durgis now founds himself roaming Durotar and The Barrens in search of new adventures.

[Pistol]

Name: Sir Vorick Zoller
Race: Forsaken (Formerly Human)

Class: Knight

House Name: Zoller

Title: 6th Baron of Caer Daun

Nickname: N/A

Height: 6'02" (1.90 Meters)

Weight/Build: Nearly Skeletal

Residence: None

Birthplace: Silverpine Forest, Kingdom of Lordaeron.

Re-Birthplace: Silverpine Forest, Kingdom of Lordaeron.

Motto: Lordaeron yet lives.

Physical Description:

Sir Vorick rotted for nearly twenty years within his family crypt, what remains of him is nought but bone held together by the rusting plate armor entombing him.

[Razzz]

Name: Lucille Grimlily

Race: Forsaken (Human type)

Class: Rogue

Title: The Limb Lady

Nickname: Lucy

Height: 5'9"

Weight/Build: 130 lbs / "Not much meat left on these bones."

Residence: "I can't afford one of those, no!"

Birthplace: Tirisfal Glades

Motto: "You wanna deal? I gotta deal! Yes!"

Physical Description:

Everything about Lucy is just...wrong. From her matted hair to her claw like toes, every little detail is somehow more gruesome than the last. She wears a raggedy leather shirt with matching shorts underneath a large, black trench coat. A coat which happens to drip blood at a constant rate and always smells like rotten meat. She seems to own an unknown amount of daggers as well. Where she keeps them is another mystery as her coat is filled to the brim with body parts. Her voice is equivalent to a giddy child's who just learned a new curse word.

Brief History:

Lucy doesn't speak of her past much at all. If one were to go by her demeanor and attitude then she likely died at a very young age, possibly even a teenager. She speaks quickly, loudly, and enthusiastically everywhere she goes. Most especially when she's attempting to do business with her fellow members of the Horde. Said business? Limbs! Where is she getting them? Alliance folk! And maybe a few gnolls, kobolds, and murlocs if they're in season. Once promised to bring in naga limbs to spice things up only to find out that nagas are limbless.

[Raukodor]

Name:Khanzo
Race: Orc
Class: Blademaster
Title: The explorer/the wanderer
Height: average for a orc
Weight/Build: strong but agile
Residence: wherever someone hired him
Birthplace: nagrand (draenor)
Motto: "never forget honor"
Physical Description: muscular Orc but agile. With long white beard and sharp eyes. Most notable trait his red skin and green-glowing eyes
Brief History:
"A Veteran old warrior who was born long time a go in Draenor. He was part of the Burning blade clan where most fiercest warriors were made because the toughness of his traditions and his spartan training"

At very Young age Khanzo showed being very skillful and strong. Being capable to beat even his fiercest enemies:the ogres.

When first horde was made Gul Dan saw Khanzo's skills; and like all the strongest orc warriorst he made khanzo part of his personal guard. (Something that caused a deep resentment between other orcs)

Years passed and the demonic corruption turned the powerful and honorable burning blade clan into a cult of warlock and mindless warriors.

at the end of the second war when gul dan betray the horde in his pursuit of power; khanzo left the ranks of the shadow council because is lack of honor. And joined The first horde in the last assault

At the end of second war when the horde was defeated he went to Blackrock mountain, where a blademaster named Jubei'Thos ruled over all the forces who scape from aliance.

Inside Blackrock mountain the "dark horde" fought with the dark iron dwarves for the control of the mountain. In one of those skirmishes Khanzo was ambushed by the dark iron emperor himself and his forces.

The emperor was pleased by the martial skills of khanzo and using his powerful magic they captured Khanzo. All for emperor sadistic fun. He keept khanzo into his personal arena where had to fought against terrible beast and foes.

Time passed and Thaurissan had the cruel idea of making khanzo his own war tool.
With the help of Thaurissan's most powerful mages and most skilled artisans they created a magical jewel. A necklace wich made khanzo a slave of emperors will.

It was a sucess. In some time thanx to his combat skills and his táctics they won a lot of chambers of the mountain where the dark horde had reclaimed

But Thaurissan forgot a detail: khanzo wasnt a ordinary orc. He is a blademaster. A true warrior strong in body and mind with a iron Will.

Time was passing and when khanzo had his will fully back he managed to scape from dark irons; and went back to.the dark horde forces. Jubei'Thos had to spare him because he was a honorable and fierce warrior and he need it.

Time passed. After some time Jubei'Thos and some of his forces (khanzo lead the Blackrock explorers) went to alterac mountains and built a demon Gate because they felt the burning legion's return. But the dark Prince Arthas and his endless undead forces defeated the orc forces.

Very few orcs returned to Blackrock mountain. There the treacherous son of blackhand, Rend, took control over the forces in Jubei'Thos absence.

Rend commanded his forces kill Khanzo, calling him traitor to his horde (because he was feared of khanzo's power and he dont want lose his position)

So khanzo managed to scape from Blackrock mountain and had to run away from aliance forces and dark horde too so he had to wander all.around the world. Hooded and selling his skills as mercenary

Time passed and he knew the new horde. The thrall's horde where he was well recived.

But khanzo dont forgot. He want his most hated enemies (the dark iron emperor and the dark horde warlord) dead.
And he want Bring back the power and the honor to his forgotten and corrupted clan; slaying rend and get the control over the old "dark horde" and making honorable again; and later cleaning blackrok mountain from the control of dark irons and other dark forces (like black dragonflight). A pretty hard task.

But he is old. And he is alone. So for complete his task he need power. He contact with some warlocks to regain his strenght. And he did it but He became a fel orc but thanxs to his discipline and strong spirit he is not corrupted and keep all his will
Art Gallery:
https://www.google.com/search?q=orc+bla ... CVM40o2yDM

[Razzz]

Name: Belinda Rosewither

Race: Forsaken (Human type)

Class: Priestess

Title: The Maggot Muncher

Nickname: Belle

Height: 5'5" ft

Weight/Build: 145 lbs / Thin and fleshy

Residence: Tarren Mill

Birthplace: Tirisfal Glades

Motto: "Are you going to finish that?"

Physical Description:

Belinda has no face, big hair, and smells like your grandmother's toes. Her voice is quiet and gentle, and seems to quiver ever so slightly whenever she speaks. She wears a lovely, long, lavender robe which is ruined by countless splotches of blood, dirt, and unspeakable messes. If one were to wonder where she keeps her adventuring supplies then worry not! Her tangled tower of dandruff doubles as five runecloth bags.

Brief History:

If any curious warrior of the Horde were to ask how old Belinda was when she died she'd simply giggle and tease, "I'm far too old for you, dearie, but I'm flattered! Teehee!" And if any humanoid folk with Alliance ties were to ask her the same then she'd murder them and devour their flesh starting with their face. That's it. That's her deal. Harmless grandmother type to the Horde, abominable nightmare to the Alliance. Besides flirting and slaughtering various denizens of Azeroth, she also hoards, well, EVERYTHING. Bones, jewels, fake jewels, murloc scales, poor quality equipment, rusty nails, and the world's saddest cat who should really be dead by now. Said hoard exists somewhere around Swamp of Sorrows. Not that it's worth looking for. Unless you want to save lil Mittens...

[Jolikmc]

Eh. I may as well toss my collection of characters onto this pinned topic. At the very least, it should give someone, somewhere, something to read for a bit, yeah?

Final (?) Edit II (05/25/2023)
Going forward, you can find a list of my roleplaying characters, past and present, and their profiles in this handy-dandy web page! You're welcome. (:

[Missbliss]

Evangelyne de LaCroix
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5'2" 120 lbs Platinum Blonde hair and Blue eyes
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[•Class•] Lvl 25 Paladin (hardcore)
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[•Motto•]Psalm 23
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[•Theme Music•]
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[•Theme Music #2•]
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[•Backstory•]

A young refugee from Lordaeron. No family or friends to speak of. She is known in Redridge for slaying many orcs, in Elwynn as a kind hearted soul amongst the people, and in Stormwind becoming renowned as a sellsword of the area. Her ambition is to return to Lordaeron to do battle with the enemies that took everything from her.

[•Appearance•]

Bright blue eyes and soft alabaster skin, she is the picture of angelic beauty. Evil creatures and non-humans feel the harsh sting of her paladin judgement when she looks upon them. She is a stalwart friend, and to her kin she radiates an aura of confidence, warmth, and positivity.