Character Bio Thread

[Reidforspeed]

Name: Leoffret Coinshadow
Race: Troll
Class: Rogue
House Name: Darkspear
Title: Coinshadow
Nickname:Leo
Height: 240 cm
Weight/Build: Lean
Residence: Currently between locations.
Birthplace: Stranglethorn Vale
Motto:" It's no drama mon"

Physical Description:
Leoffret Coinshadow stands tall and lean. Although still young by Troll years his body is marked with numerous thin scars (especiall along his arms and hands) which are custom to his "skulking" trade in the rough jungle.

He keeps his hair dyed black with a dark pigment found within Stranglethorn (it also serves as a great gel to tame any jungle frizz). The dark fruity pigment also masks his eyes to reduce glare and keep his teal green face hidden in gloomy places.

Tying his hair back and keeping his tusks short allows his frame to btter slide into almost any nook and cranny. The middle section of his right ear is slightly frayed due to a piercing accident.

Brief History:
Leoffret spent the majority of his youth skulking about the many abandoned tribal ruins in Stranglethorn Vale. More often than not he would find and collect a variety of trinkets and decayed artifacts as a hobby to sate curiosity. One days while loitering on the outskirts of Booty Bay a goblin showed particular interest in one of the items he was examining. Although worthless to him and his village, the goblin payed good silver for the rusted exotic idol in Leoffret's hands. Not much time passed before his curious collection had run dry, but the bag of silvers resting on his straw hammock stirred a new, more profitable curiosity.

Unfortunately word got out to the elders about his small fortune and Leoffret reluctantly donated it to aid in the village's much needed repairs and hunting stores. His accomplishment, however, would not go forgotten. Finally coming of age a few months after, his thrift and skulking skills had earned him the title of "Coinshadow" within the small village. Although honored to receive such a humble gift, it wasn't long before he left to ensure any future wealth remained his.

Putting his skulking to good use Leoffret enlisted to the expanding Horde as a contracted agent of the Shattered Hand. The world of Azeroth now open, a deeper curiosity stirs him to discover (and more importantly procure) valuable secrets for both the Horde...and himself.

Appearance

[Parcival]

Name: Parcival Godrigson
Race: Human
Class: [OOC]: Mage II [IC]: Scholar/Researcher
House Name: N/A
Title: The Cynic
Nickname: Parcy
Height: 1.76m
Weight/Build: 79kg/Averege
Residence: The Pig and Whistle Tavern in the Old Town district of Stormwind
Birthplace: Hillsbrad Foothills
Motto: "Ah, witless world! Behold the grand folly of ignorance!"

Physical Description:

Of averege height and build, having to pay his rent in the Pig and Whistle through labor, he is given regular meals which keep him in a normal physical state. Parcival's brown, long, unkempt hair reach to his shoulders with a thick beard to round his face. Thick eyebrows and sunken eyes rend his sight unpleasant, only adding to his moody demeanour. His thick nose hinders his breathing, giving Parcival his characteristically fast and loud inhaling partly through the mouth. Some gray hair appear to dominate his face, especially his lower beard and at the sides.

Parcival wears whatever he can get his hands upon, involuntarily. His only characteristic choice of clothing is his blue linen cloak, which he wears whenever leaving his room in the tavern. With the hood drawn, at any time of day and season.

Brief History:

A former student of the arts of magic, with a propensity towards moodiness, anxiety and arrogance. Having abandoned his studies with the approaching plague from the north, Parcival fled to the safey of Stormwind, where he remains to this day. Forced to learn for himself, this puts a strain on his financial status, living in poverty in the Old Town district of the city. A small cabin of a room in the Pig and Whistle.

Due to his failures in the academic world and his life in poverty, Parcival built a sickness of spirit, which spawns obsessions with murder. Delusional, yet capable of generosity and compassion. Parcival tends to pity the weak and helpless in whom he sees himself, despising all others with a semblance of power.

Art Gallery:

[Guffnat]

Name: Kuuku
Race: Troll (Forest)
Tribe: Revantusk
Class: Hunter
Height: 220 cm
Weight/Build: Lean / sinewy
Residence: Currently on a rite of passage journey
Birthplace: Revantusk Village
Motto: -

Physical Description:
Kuuku is a young Forest Troll who looks rather small and lean compared to his brutish brethren. His skin is covered with a thin layer of moss in various shades of green. There are several pearls, bones and feathers braided into his teal colored mop of fuzzy hair. His nose is a bit crooked and he seems to scan his surroundings with a curious yet piercing stare. His tusks are adorned with intricate carvings.

Brief History:
Kuuku grew up to be a Hunter and Fisherman in Revantusk Village. Apart from the occasional struggles with the Wildhammer Dwarfs and the Vilebranch Trolls of Jintha'alor the Revantusk Tribe seems to manage a peaceful life in the Hinterlands.
Since the Revantusk Tribe lives rather secluded and far away from their Horde allies it has become custom that young tribe members are sent on a journey to Orgrimmar as a rite of passage. They are supposed to gather news about their allies, foes and latest devolopments in the conflict between Horde and Alliance. In addition they are supposed to pledge allegiance to Thrall and assure that the Revantusk will come to aid when he calls. The elders of the tribe are known for their diplomatic skills and they want to assure that the younger generation is able to succeed.

Kuuku has recently arrived in Sen'jin and heard about the Valley of Trials. He intends to take part in the trials and wants to prove that the Revantusk tribe - although they might be few - are able to pull their weight.

[Hiccup]

Name: Imogen Morgan
Race: Human
Class: Mage
House Name: Morgan
Title: Miss
Nickname: Red, Immy
Height: Five foot – One hundred fifty two centre meters.
Weight/Build: Small, petite.
Residence: Undisclosed
Birthplace: Boralus
Motto:

“A goal should scare you a little and excite you a lot”

Physical Description:

The maiden with flame hair, as fierce as she is fair.

The woman that you see, is short barely five foot one, she moves with agility and grace that her small frame allows. She is small and compact, she is toned and physically fit, a body of an acrobat, or hand to hand combat fighter. That or a runaway.
Her facial features seem to be sharp, angled, hawkish. A slim nose set between high cheekbones. Her lips full but rarely forming a smile. A small scar on the left side of her chin. Across her nose and under her eyes, a smattering of freckles.

Bright blue grey eyes watches those around her with an intense almost critical gaze. Yet there is a fear within them, a panicked look that can be seen when she believes no one is watching her. A doe caught in the headlights of a mechano-hog.

Orange sunset locks, capturing the light in vibrant ruby hues; flowing in gentle, warm curls of lava to her mid-back. The mass of red hangs down the female's shoulders and back. Every strand seemed to be a different shade of copper, causing her hair to look like liquid fire. The waves and curls flow freely around her shoulders, reaching nearly the middle of her back. The vast mass is unruly and nearly untameable. Pushed back from her face with head scarf's, or pulled back into a long braid.

Her clothing is simple, made from what can be afforded, found or stolen. Favouring long cloaks that wrap around her petite frame and long shirts and tunics that cover her forearms. She is a mismatched set of colours and fabrics that give nothing away of her skill set. She carries a short sword, various small knives and brass knuckles.

Perhaps her most treasured possession a silver anchor tarnished by age. Held around her neck with a leather thong. Often when unsure, she can be found holding the item. Squeezing it hard enough to leave the imprint upon her palm.

Carried with her, a backpack that seems to carry her very world. Items including but not limited too a worn bedroll, a few well thumbed books, very basic food stuffs, a water canteen that has more dents than smooth surface.


Brief History:

A runaway, wanted by tidemother only knows what. One soul thing seems to give this young woman the iron will to survive. Get back home.

That's it. A quick witted redhead with a silver tongue, it is hard to know what is truth and what is fable from the words that spill from the woman's lips.

A history lost to the depths of the sea, a woman lost on a path that she hopes is leading her home.

Art Gallery:

[Zazzi]

➵ NICKNAME: 'Ari'
➵ RACE: Orc
➵ CLASS: Hunter
➵ RESIDENCE: N/A
➵ HEIGHT: 6'0"
➵ BUILD: Stocky

➵ APPEARANCE: Tall for a woman but short for her race, Arlakh possesses a stocky build with wide shoulders and few curves – though it’s hard to tell beneath all the layers of cloth and fur. She has guileless blue eyes and a tendency to smile in spite of herself. A traditional hairstyle has the sides of her head shaved clean with a thick braid falling down her back, adorned with silver bands, bits of animal bone, and pretty wildflowers.

No orc should be without battle-scars, but Arlakh’s are few in number, her skin smooth save for a few faded, shallow wolf bites on her ankles and a deeper cut bisecting her left eyebrow. Usually a testament to youth, or worse, inexperience, she makes up for this with an air of gruffness, a gravelly voice well-suited to barking orders at dogs in a firm, commanding tone, and a lack of eloquence.

➵ BRIEF HISTORY: A daughter of the Frostwolf Clan, Arlakh spent her adolescence isolated in the Alterac Mountains, hunting in the snow and hiding from the Alliance presence in neighboring territories. Once a proud warrior, her aging father had retired to rear wolves and worgs for the outriders to use as mounts, and this profession was to become hers once she came of age.

In later years, she saved the runt of an otherwise promising litter of war wolves. While she had no intentions beyond than helping it survive away from it’s mother, it seems inevitable looking back that she would bond with it. The wolf has been a faithful hunting companion ever since.

While most of her clan remained in the Eastern Kingdoms after freeing the other orcs from their internment camps - an event that she took part in, albeit on the fringes, as her first taste of ‘real’ combat - Arlakh followed the new Horde to Kalimdor. The last few years have been spent as a scout (and then as the leader of small scouting parties) in the Barrens and Stonetalon Mountains, combatting the threats in these areas that are ‘closer-to-home’ rather than the result of Alliance excursions.

Recently, she set out to organise a band of adventurers that is better suited to clearing the way for the Horde than a group of regular grunts would be.

➵ ART GALLERY: To be updated...

[Veradux]

Name: Richard Oakley
Race: Human
Class: Warrior
Nickname: Rich, Oakey, Log
Height: 6ft 2'
Age: 31
Build: Muscled, broad shoulders.
Residence: Wherever there is work to be done. Stormwind, on occasion.
Birthplace: Moonbrook
Motto:

“Breathe in courage, breathe out fear.”

Physical Description:

Rich is a grizzled warrior with tall and broad stature, almost imposing if not for a face with strong features and an accompanying beard that smiles and jokes at everyone and anything. Hefting plate and mail for years has certainly aided his form and it's clear to see by the callouses on his hands that he is no stranger to hard work.

Grey eyes observe and shine with mirth as he fights, drinks, smokes and chats with anyone willing, yet always looking for opportunities for both wealth in friends as money. The ideal situation both. His eyes are generally soft except for in the heat of battle, where they seem to almost beat down the enemy in the intensity of his stare.

His dull brown hair is short and often matted, in a perpetual state of 'morning hair' where the only thing Richard cares for is the fact that his helmet fits over it. His beard is trimmed, although shoddily by no doubt a dulled knife or other similar tool.

Simple plate and mail covers him from head to toe in most situations, jingling along as he walks. It is seldom that he is seen without it, but in those moments simple clothes suffice. A grey tunic with brown leather pants that are very plain. Close by always is a pack of cigarettes where Richard takes one from to light in moments of downtime.

When armored, his sword and shield are no doubt connected to him in some way. Along with a backpack stuffed to the brim with supplies that are not easily seen. A waterskin and a mug jingle from it alongside some rope that is looped around the top. Always prepared out in the world.

Brief History:

Richard was a farmhand near Moonbrook for the longest time until the Defias Brotherhood showed up and started to raid the farmstead. Unable to stop them, they decide to give into their demands for 'protection' money. Extorted increasingly more and more, his family was soon unable to pay the protection money and were forced out of the town. With nearly no money and no place to stay, Richard and his two older brothers, Eric and Darius, signed up for the army and used their funds to supply a home and food for their family.

Yet, Richard never seemed to quite fit in with the army. And after a while, he decided to look for other avenues. Approached by a wealthy merchant quickly after his discharge of the army, he was offered a job with good payment to find a missing person. While the task wasn't hard, the pay was good, and Richard started to delve more and more into mercenary work. Escorting a researcher, defending a bulwark of the Alliance or slaying a beast which had attacked a village, Richard did not care, except for the pay.

Nowadays, he lets the wind take him where he is needed, in search for coin and companionship. To drink and enjoy life with. As a free man.

Art Gallery:

[Ragni]

Name: Ragni Amberstill (of the Bronzebeard clan)
Race: Dwarf
Class: Warrior
House Name: Amberstill
Nickname:"The Black Ram"
Height: 156 cm (5'1'')
Weight/Build: 79 kg (174 lbs)
Residence: No permanent residence.
Birthplace: Amberstill Ranch in Dun Morogh

Motto: "There is more to see in the world other than this [insert a swear word here] ram farm"

Description: Other then his fiery red hair and temperament, there is not much that distinguishes Ragni from other dwarven warriors in his physical looks. People will sooner notice his foul temper and stubbornness at first, but when they get to know him they will see he is dumb too. Jokes aside, he is ready to offer the help however he can, he will seem like he doesn't care or does you a favor, but in reality he is happy when he can be useful and helpful. Also, he proves how tough he is by taking on the biggest amount of enemies and if it weren't for other's help, he would be long time dead.

Brief History:
Born on the Amberstill Ranch Ragni had decent but quarrelsome upbringing in his family. He never showed much interest in ram breeding or grooming or doing anything with rams which didn't include fighting with them. He shared too many characteristics with rams to really be a part of people who care for them. That's why he was nicknamed "Black Ram", because he was "black sheep" of his family. And while his cousin Veron is making very decent living off breeding and selling rams, Ragni has decided to see what the world has to offer.

[Steelguts]

Name: Korgoth

Race: Human

Class: Warrior

House Name: None

Title: of Barbaria

Nickname: None

Height: 6,5 ft / 198 cm

Weight/Build: 265 lb / 120 kg

Residence: None

Birthplace: Jotunheim, Northrend

Motto: None

Brief History:

'Great cities of Azeroth have risen and fallen, civilizations grip on mankind has grown weak and are critical. The Twilight Circle seek to renew forgotten covenance and primordial beasts reclaim the wilderness. Out of the frozen North a man emerges. A man of a barbaric age who's merciless savagery may be the only key to his survival. They call him Korgoth.'

Korgoth is infected by a deadly stomach parasite by Gogg-Ma-Gog, a fat little goblin from Kul'Tiras now living in a hovel in the Burning Steppes. Gogg-Ma-Gog is the only one in Azeroth who has the elixir, a laxative, to cure him. Though the elixir takes many seasons to take effect. Therefore Korgoth is forced to do Gogg-Ma-Gogs errands to ensure the enfeeble of the parasite.

Art Gallery:

[Capuniru]

- BIO -
Name: Math Bazwlin.
Race: Dwarf.
Class: Hunter.
House Name. Bronzebeard Clan.
Title: Nesingwary Expedition Scout's.
Nickname: "Capuniru".
Height: 4.5'.
Weight/Build: 175 lb.
Residence: Anvilmar.
Birthplace: Wetlands.
Motto: "Better to drink at your departure ... than mine!"
- PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION -
Have you ever seen a dwarf? They are low, generally dark-light skin of the most varied shades, and stink of beer ... or at least the vast majority. Have you ever seen one? The odds are two; Either you're a Troll, or you're a dead Troll.
[Capuniru]
- BRIEF HISTORY -
A native of the Wetlands, Math Bazwlin also known as "Capuniru" is a young dwarf belonging to the Bronzebeard Clan. His family, humble hunters who made their living by skinning crocodile skin, sent it to Ironforge at an early age. In the capital, under the supervision of Daera Brightspear, Bazwlin refined the rudimentary hunting techniques taught to him by his family, and with the passing of time he became a promising hunter, rude but promising. Following the latest developments, which see the people of Dun Morogh engaged in a new campaign against the Frostmane Troll, threatening to besiege the settlement of Anvilmar, Bazwlin was urgently sent to Coldridge Valley to give a hand.
This could be only the beginning of an intricate affair, which will see Bazwlin busy overcoming obstacles greater than him, and not only in height ...

[Bellybutton]

Name: Huklo Hawkcatcher
Race: Tauren
Class: Warrior
Nickname: Hawk
Height: Tall
Weight/Build: Muscular and bulky
Residence: Central Kalimdor
Birthplace: A nomadic camp in Durotar prior to Orc and Troll settlement.

Physical Description:
Huklo is a tall, youthful Tauren male in the prime of his early adulthood who towers over most people, and is noticeably but not dramatically taller than the average Tauren male. His dark charcoal-coloured pelt is decorated with plenty of minor battle scars, particularly around his shoulders and on his muscular biceps and forearms. His dark pelt lightens into a light gray around his youthful face, adorned with a metal nose ring. Behind his two ears flows two stalks of hair braided and adorned with metal rings. His beard is also braided and adorned with metal rings. On the the top of his head he proudly bares two in-tact, although worn horns, and the start of his flowing dark mane that reaches from his head to his middle-back. His eyes are a dull, earthy brown.

His chest and abdomen are almost entirely muscle as the result of many years of general activity and labour. His chest is almost barren of scars, as he's particularly good at letting his two bulky arms take the blunt of a blow. He has one notable scar on his chest, a healed over bullet wound just to the left of his left nipple. There are numerous minor patches of bare, furless skin where many of his scars are.

Brief Backstory:
Huklo Hawkcatcher was born in a temporary settlement of a nomadic off-shoot of Tauren hunters and gatherers belonging to the Bloodhood Tribe in Durotar between two and three decades ago. He spent the majority of his upbringing learning how to hunt, gather, live off the land and contribute in a small tribe from his strict, but loving father who was a hard-line traditionalist.

His upbringing brought him to Durotar, The Barrens, Mulgore, Stonetalon Mountains, and Thousand Needles and back and forth following Kodo migrations, searching for desirable weather, and being hunted by the vile Centaur. In his travels, Huklo began to grow a fondness and respect for the beasts that inhabited these lands. Impassioned by the thrill of the hunt, he made it his life's goal to hunt down, challenge and slay the most dangerous and infamous of fauna, to prove to the world his dominance over beast.

When the Horde first arrived in Kalimdor, Huklo was at first furious that these strange people were colonizing and permanently settling lands his ancestors have traveled, lived and hunted in for countless generations. He grew less angry when he discovered that the Orcs and Trolls share a similar culture to that of the Tauren peoples and wanted to live in harmony. Huklo grew to respect the Horde when the Horde had helped the Tauren drive the Centaur out of Mulgore, in fact Huklo was one of the many brave Tauren warriors who fought hard to establish a new homeland for the Tauren peoples. It was on this shared battlefield with his Orc and Troll comrades that he felt his first taste of a serious, life-threatening battle, and it was on this battlefield that he began to feel a sense of brotherhood with these foreign people.

Today, Huklo Hawkcatcher has embarked to pursue his dream of being Central Kalimdor's apex hunter. Being the proud and honourable Tauren he is, he tends to get sidetracked investigating and getting involved in problems that threaten the safety of the Tauren people and his newfound Horde allies, all with a looming apprehension at this factional war the Horde has dragged the Tauren peoples into.

[Seabraid]

Name: Gunnifer Seabraid
Race: Dwarf
Class:Hunter
House Name: Seabraid
Height: Short
Weight/Build: Stout
Residence: Itinerant, but letters can be posted to her at the Deepwater Tavern, Menethil Harbour
Birthplace: Kul’Tiras

Motto: "Anyone can hold the helm when the sea is calm…”

Description:
A lean, weather-scarred and sun-tanned Kul Tiran dwarf, Seabraid has the countenance of a thundercloud and the tongue of a scurvy old salt. Her sandy-coloured hair is kept in a single long braid that trails down to the small of her back. Her skin is dark and cracked like sailcanvas by wind and salt, covered in crude tattoos like trophies from distant ports, and her emerald eyes twinkle with mischief. She garbs herself as a merchant sailor in the Kul Tiran fashion, with gaudy colours and patterns that would produce frowns and teeth-gnashing among the old longbeards of Ironforge, but are quite at home among the rigging of any Alliance ship. She walks with the uneven gait of one used to a rolling deck at sea, and is much at home in the winesinks and bawdy-homes of ports across Azeroth.

Brief History:
Midshipmate Seabraid made her bones in the Kul Tiran navy, sailing under the colours of Commodore Arthor “Keelhaul” Redmoore, whose reputation for daring broadsides and ruthlessness made him enemies across all the seas. Promoted to oversee the formidable gunlines of Keelhaul’s flagship, the Pride’s Wake, Seabraid proved her mettle in duels with red sail seadogs, perfidious naga, orc warships, and the anger of the waves themselves.

A few years ago, Keelhaul’s fleet departed on an ill-fated expedition to the southerly coasts of Kalimdor, where they were blasted and broken apart by a furious typhoon. As the Pride’s Wake struggled to keep right of the hammering waves, a naga seawitch revealed herself, and her ambush, slaughtering the crew as the ship was wrent apart by the powerful storm. As Seabraid watched from a tangle of rope and wooden debris, the seawitch dueled with mighty Keelhaul. The brave captain had the better of the Naga for a time, but as the ship was torn apart in the maelstrom, she cast upon him a dread curse, transforming the proud Kul Tiran sailor into a pitiful little sea crab.


Commodore Arthor "Keelhaul" Redmoore, current form

Seabraid was near drowned by that storm, but was saved by her former skipper, who grabbed her in his claws and swam her away from the sinking ship and naga assault. She awoke upon distant isles in the aftermath of the storm, lashed to a spar and near-drowned, awakened by the sight of a red crab watching over her.

Now she travels by her Commodore’s side, seeking to undo the curse wrought upon him by finding secrets and clues hidden in ancient ruins and distant lands.

Art Gallery:

[Mortbolt]

Name: Padric Dayton
Race: Human
Class: Warrior
House Name: N/A
Nickname: Paddy
Height: 6.2
Weight: 87 kg
Age: 29
Build: muscular
Residence: Goldshire
Birthplace: Andorhal

Motto: "Conquer yourself, only then will you be strong!"

Description:
Padric is a Tall muscular man, Most people find his appearance intimidating, but he is a gentle person at heart. He has long blonde hair ,that he keeps tied in a ponytail which he considers to be both practical and stylish.
He has Dark green eyes which have a very mischievous light dancing through them.
Padric has almost no scars except for the huge axe wound on his back which he got from a gnoll during a skirmish. He is always smiling no matter the situation.

Brief history:
Padric was born in Andorhal 25 years before the third war, his mother worked as a clerk in the town hall, his father was a soldier in lordaeron's army, he has no siblings. padric was mostly just a quiet town boy until the age of 12 when his father decided to retire and move to elwynn forest to settle down there and also help out in rebuilding the newly restored kingdom of stormwind. Padric did not take this change well, he did not want to be separated from all his friends and he did everything he could to make the transition harder than it had to be for both of his parents. even after they arrived to elwynn and settled on the little piece of land ,in Goldshire, that his father got from the king, padric continued to cause trouble both at home and in town. He would always get in fights with the local children, if there was a trouble in town it was almost always his fault, during this time period padric discovered his love and talent for brawling, while he settled down couple of years later and got used to his new home, he would still get in fights (mostly causing them himself) by the time he was 18 he was known as the meanest person in town who would start a fight over the most trivial of reason, around that time he got in a fight with city guard who bumped into him on hes way out of the tavern, he beat the fully armored and trained man to unconciousness, This fact went into his head and he started bragging about his skill as a fighter, that is until he met marshal haggard one fateful evening. Haggard was already getting close to his long awaited retirement, Padric who let his victory ,over a simple guard, go to his head decided to take on the marshal........the resulting beatdown left him unconcious for a week.
Months passed after the above mentioned incident padric was furious and actively sought haggard to prove that he was stronger than him, though unfortunately he was unable to find him. One quiet evening town of Goldshire was attacked by a band of riverpaw gnolls led by a Gnoll named "Sharp claw" Padric was among the few who volunteered to fight the threat and being the proud young man he decided to take on the leader, 'Sharp claw" easily avoided his pathetic swing and struck him in the back with an axe, padric would have died there and then, had he not been save by the very man he swore vengeance against, Marshal Haggard. Padrics world was turned upside down, on one hand he was grateful of Haggard saving him and admired his prowess in combat, but on the other hand he could not forget the shame he experienced at the hands of the man. After a long contemplation he swallowed his pride, went to the marshal's home and asked him for training in the art of combat. Seeing the potential in the boy Haggard agreed and started training him, he would train him during his free time at first and after Padric gained some semblance of skill he started taking him on the patrol missions, during one joint patrol with the dwarves from ironforge, the dwarven captain Furin Beardbraid let padric taste the famous rhapsody mals and thus began his addiction to that particular beverage. over the years Padric gained the skill and experience enough to call himself a Formidable warrior,
after Haggard retired padric struck out as an adventuring mercenary across the continent, every time he is back in elwynn he visits Haggard and helps him around the house.

[Potatoknight]

Name: I'm Gwynera, Gwynera Orchardist if you want the full name!

Race: I am a human.

Class: I am a Priestess of the Holy Light!

House Name: Light, I'm just a common woman!

Title: Nope. Priestess, I suppose?

Nickname: I've heard Apple (Because my family grew apples!), Gwyn, Nera, it's all fine with me. Just don't call me Blondie.

Height: I've met only a few who were shorter.

Weight/Build: That's rather personal! Err, I guess I'm tiny and thin?

Residence: Wherever I can rest my head down, these days!

Birthplace: Elwynn, my family had an Orchard there.

Motto: Err...? Light bless you?

Physical Description: Ah, uhm, my friends would say I'm fair. I've got golden hair that I try to keep neat. I stay as clean and tidy as I can considering how much I travel! I'm pretty short and whatever the opposite of muscular is, is me! I dress modestly, I suppose I'm shapely but I don't like to show off too much, distractions and all of that. Oh and I've got a good singing voice!

Brief History: Not much to talk about there! My family were Orchardists as I said - that's where I got my name! They were meagre and poor and I wasn't much use around during the colder months, so they offered me to the Church, the Clerics in Northshire, who took me in. There I was educated in the Holy Light... didn't much like the sheltered, closed-off existance though! Soon as I was old enough to decide for myself, I set off with what little the Clerics could offer and never looked back! Today I travel Azeroth, spreading the Light where I can, healing the sick, being a good person, hopefully!

[Deadcrow]

Name: Jarom Vail

Race: Forsaken

Class: Warlock

House Name: None

Title: Brewer

Nickname: Lefty

Height: 5'9"

Weight/Build: 90lbs soaking wet, you could call him svelte . . . maybe?

Residence: Brill Currently

Birthplace: Hazy, maybe Lordran?

Motto: When in doubt Immolate!

Physical Description: Thin, wiry slight hunch to his posture, but with a hunger in his eyes (For knowledge not just for flesh), usually muttering formulae to himself

Brief History: Jarom didn't remember much from his death, but he did remember his awakening alone, cold, with only the knowledge of various curses and demonic information, it wasn't until the grave keepers broke open his coffin did he realize what had transpired, Jarom was dead. He had to have been a researcher in a former life for all he knew but everything else about his former life (and his death) was a blur . . . although he has a particular dislike of fish for some reason. Without anything better to do he decided to join the Royal Apothecary Society and learn Potion making as a trade to keep him occupied. Mostly he can be seen searching the lands for ingredients and occasionally arguing with his Imp, Quarzin.

[Peeves]

• Name: Mimblis Evermorne

• Race: Human

• Class: Paladin

• House Name: N/A

• Title: Templar

• Nickname: Evermorne

• Height: 6'

• Weight/Build: 180 lb.

• Residence: Stormwind City

• Birthplace: Stormwind City

• Motto:

  I'll seek justice for those who defy it.

Physical Description:

• An uncanny, stoic figure, this old man stands as one of the original members of the Knights of the Silver Hand. His body may be pale, but his hazel eyes are still glimmering with youthfulness.

Brief History:

• Following the events of the Third War, Evermorne went to seek faith in the Northshire Abbey. His mind was still plagued by the loss of his friend - Uther Lightbringer, and his thoughts didn't stray far from the letter he received from him an year ago. Even though still considered by most a Templar, Evermorne seems to have cut ties with the rest of the Knights of the Silver Hand, maybe to regain his faith and will, and return to the battlefield as strong as before. Most old people knew of Mimblis' powers, but the younger folk tend to look the other way when approaching him. It's surely a matter of time for him to return and become prestigious again.

Art Gallery:

• To be added!

[Wildelf]

Name: Realaya Eluria Moonshine
Race: Kaldorei(Night Elf)
Class: Tailor/Seamstress - Novice Acolyte of the Moon
House Name: A Common Villager
Title: Youngest of the Moonshine
Nickname: "Laya" - "Re-Re"
Height: Underaverage (6ft8)
Weight/Build: Light and Weak Build
Residence: The Temple of the Moon
Birthplace: Starbreeze Village
Motto: W.I.P
Physical Description:
Long silky purple hair with light purple skin and moonlit white eyes, a long curved upward button-like nose with a pointed tip, underneath would be a small pair of pumple purple lips and underneath would be a small nearly pointed but round chin and cheeks plumpe but show some type of cheek bones - Her thin and nearly weak body suited with a cropped turtle neck shirt with apair of green shorts with green bands around her upper arms, with apair of brown boots
Brief History:
Realaya born a Villager of Starbreeze Village within the Family of Moonshine, a family which brewed Moonshine all year round so they are in supply for the Lunar Festival, though with due time the Corrupted Furblog took the Village by force - Quite alot of the Residance of the area were evacuated while some were not so luck to survive, that included her Parents, left orphaned with her Elder Sister in Dolanaar.

[Sucubuszoo]

Name: Joe Davis
Race: Undead human
Class:Warrior
House Name: Davis
Title: none
Nickname: Jo
Height: 5.8ft
Weight/Build: 200lbs
Residence: Crossroads
Birthplace: Brill
Motto: "well this is happening!"
Physical Description:
Joe was an average built guy with a bit of a rough and haggered appearance. he messy brown hair and hazel eyes. his appearance is only slightly different in undeath. the rotting has made him look more rundown. he dose little keep up his appearance and it shows. his armor is rusty and shredded. his hair is ruffled and messy.
Brief History:
Joe doesn't remember much. Undeath has striped a lot of his memories. what he dose know is he had a wife and a kid. he was borne in Brill before the 2nd war. his father died in said war. he was a in charge of skinning animals or something like that.

[Grin]

I remember watching our shamans during one of their rituals as a little runt. To my eyes it was something unimaginably magnificient at the time. They wielded the powers of the elements with such proficiency that as I watched them the air stood still in my lungs. In spite I was groomed to become a hunter I longed to understand their magic from that day. However it was long after that I finally found my way back to it...
Years had passed and I grew up honing my hunting skills slowly forgetting about the feeling until the time came that I go through the rites of the Earthmother. Then at one point I was tasked to drink from the water of the seers to induce a vision that helped young ones understand their destinies and on its journey I met a person who helped me remember.
Fate brought me to him and a third accompanied us. A young prearie wolf with a wounded leg who was quite lively regardless his injury knowing that he wasn't in near any danger. This man approached him and invoked some of his magic to mend him then he looked at my young tauren self and welcomed me with a smile. Then blinked once, booned me with a blessing before he left in a form of a jaguar. I haven't met the elf ever since but the experience we shared lives as lively in my memories as before the shamans' had. Once I finished the rites I set on a new horizon and ventured into the realm of druidism...

My name is Grum.

[Ushido]

Nombre : Maghnus Escanor
raza : Orco
Clase : Guerrero
Nombre de la casa : Fiery Axe
Título : Teniente
Apodo : Maghnus el orgullso
Altura : 1.99
Peso / Estructura : 120 kg Robusto
residencia : Durotar
Lugar de nacimiento :Durotar
Lema: Es mejor que estes a mi lado para conversar, que estar frente a mi para pelear.
Descripción física: Corpulento como cualquier orco, lleva un collar con una gema de color verde, la cual lleva dentro el alma de su mejor amigo, el cual fue apuñalado por un misterioso pícaro y sus secuaces.

Breve historia:
Tras la invasión de la legion ardiante, Maghnus y sus compañeros se regocijaban tomando tragos en una taberna y jugando hearstone, victoriosos cantaban canciones de victoria y fanfarria. Luego de algunos tragos, Maghnus escucho los tambores de los guardias y gritos despavoridos. La plaga estaba invadiendo por el frente del pueblo. Entre la conmocion, un puñado de picaros aprovecharon de saquear gran parte del pueblo mientras los guardias se encargaban de defender a los civiles. Maghnus se encontraba en el frente del pueblo empujando las fuerzas de los no muertos.

Luego de unas horas, ensangrentado por la feroz batalla, recibiría la noticia de que su mejor amigo había sido asesinado por el grupo de picaros, lo habian apuñalado con una daga envenenada con sangre de draco de pantano. Al llegar a donde se encontraba su cuerpo un compañero cazador le entrego una esquirla que estaba enterrada en el pecho de Chema. Maghnus tomo un trozo de cuero y lo acomodo como si fuese un collar y tras un rugido de odio, El teniente se lanzaría a dar casa a los asesinos de su amigo.

[Baas]

Character description: Baas.
Name: Baas.
Race: Undead.
Sex: Male.
Class: Priest.
Residence: Undercity.
Birthplace: Lordaeron.
Fluff:

Yet another zombie that was randomly freed from the grasp of the Lich King. He retained almost none of his memories, not even his name. The only thing he remembers is that Lordaeron was, and still is, his home. Therefore, his only compulsion is to repair and rebuild the kingdom.

The umimaginative name, Baas, comes from his odd fascination with fishing.

Since he was incapable of any specialist work, he was assigned to labour parties. All of his time was spent repairing houses, building barricades and fishing. Apparently, only while fishing the undead can feel at peace. The insane monster doesn't even eat the fish he catches most of the time. And when he does, it's usually raw. And only for the taste, not for nourishment.

After some time, simply to distinguish Baas from scores of other forsaken, his supervisor called him after the company the labourer was keeping. That is, fish.

[Kazgrim]

Name: Kazgrim
Race: Orc
Class: Warlock
Height: 7' 2" (6' 8" hunched)
Weight/Build: Lean, almost skeletal
Residence: Orgrimmar, Durotar
Birthplace: Draenor, the Red World
Motto: "By his blood, the Horde lives."
Physical Description: A large cloak covers the pallid face of this brooding warlock. He wears tattered robes and carries with him a wooden staff to support his crooked gait. Underneath the shadow of his hood appears a gaunt looking orc with coarse dark brown hair, and a scar to his missing eye that runs down his forehead and cheek. His yellow-green skin is covered in blisters and scars, masked by the layers of clothing he wears to keep the burning Durotar sun from furthering damaging it. At his heel is his summoned minion from the twisting nether, a daemon from hell ordered to do his bidding and tear to pieces any that dares interferes with his plans.
Brief History: Kazgrim was born sometime before the Rise of the Horde, on the planet Draenor. He served in both the First and Second Wars alongside his chieftain Kilrogg Deadeye. Originally a shaman, he was one of the few that followed Gul'dan and learn about the demonic arts. With his new abilities, he fought alongside the Horde in their invasion of Azeroth, and was eventually captured along with the rest of his clan and put into internment camps in Lordaeron. Having escaped and fleeing to Kalimdor with Thrall and the new Horde, Kazgrim has found it hard to let go of the powers he has learned to wield. But by swearing fealty to Thrall and his new Horde, Kazgrim has pledged to use his dark arts for good. Or so it would seem.
Art Gallery:

[Hal]

Name: Lorphar Denerly Krighton

Race: Human

Class: Veteran Warrior

House Name: None.

Title: Old Soldier

Nickname: Ole' Timer

Height: 6 feet

Weight/Build: 140 pounds

Residence: Northshire Town

Birthplace: Stormwind Field Farm

Motto: "Keep right on to the end of the road, though the road be long you gotta stay strong"

Physical Description:

Wrinkles fill the face, Burly & a bit Muscular, looks a bit like Lothar himself!

Brief History:

Lorphar was born in the Stormwind Fields standing right outside it's gates, Farms fill the plains, fast forward there's the first war which fortunately he lived through, fast forward more the second war came and he served under the command of Lothar himself, he fought many battles & had many experiences, he even was once captured him & his comrades while on patrol by blackrock orcs and taken hostage, almost a whole week of interrogation, torture, and murder, he tried to rebel and escape but he fell unconcious for a long time, then he woke up to the sound of screams & cries, there were no guards, he stood up barely concious, and tried to wake his comrades but most of them were dead or too unconcious, he stepped outside and found alliance troops attacking the blackrock base, but just when hope was restored, Wrymkin troops showed up and the battle took longer, he made a run for it & escaped the base, stranded & wandering in the smokey desert of the burning steppes, finally he reached safety, South post alliance garrison, & went back home, events occured & alot of time had passed in peace, his sons & daughters married & happy, him living with the love of his life marcilene & meeting his grandchildren, there he recieved news of a troubled elwynn, he missed fighting & wandering outside his doorstep anyways so, he took up a worn shortsword, a battered buckler, and his rusty skills & set out to wander & save the folk of elwynn, as well as making quite a bit of profit.

Art Gallery:

[Tinkywinki]

Name: Buri Loneaxe

Race: Dwarf

Class: Paladin apprentice

House Name: Loneaxe

Title: lutenant of the 2nd exploration squad to Kalimdor.

Nickname: Buraxe

Height: 5 feet

Weight/Build: 150 pounds

Residence: None

Birthplace: Lonch Modan, close to Wetlands.

Motto: "If dont lead to ale then is not ok "

Physical Description: Big nose, semi-long beard with handlebeard mustache and short black hair, old face yet not old at all, tired eyes, muscular and tall for a dwarf.

Brief History: Born in a tent in Lonch modan, his father was a mountaineer in Algaz station and her mother was died giving birth to him. Learning to survive alone in the woods he always look up to his father as a an example a lonely man with working habits. Soon at a very young age a group of human recruiters were asking for young dwarfs to help to an expedition to get information in Kalimdor. Not knowing anything Buri just sign the paper in hope to get some adventure and coin for his already old father, still working as mountaineer day and night. His father was very sad when his son give him the news and they both had a huge fight. Buri left his home (tent) the next morning with his axe only, starting a long journey by foot to Stormwind for his 3 months training before departure.
In the big city he did a fair good job, yet not as good as many naturaly born warriors and fighters. So they decide to send him as last of his militia class to serve as fighter in the last line but also as chef, because he was not the best warrior but he made great meals with not many. They set sail to Kalimdor and he was put in the 2nd exploration squad all conformed by dwarfs, humans looked bad at them all the time. After a long trip, they set camp in a group of islands south durotar, the gnome cartographer, a very old gnome, didnt know that those islands were now part of a newly established zandalari troll tribe. Witouth sight of danger the generals set camp. The same night a group of trolls attacked killing lot of men, with only a knife Burin save most of the men in his Squad and one human general. This give him the promotion to lutenant. With half the group they set sails with the last ships to a northern position. Sadly for the army the trolls put spells and witchcraft stuff in most of the survivors, so they died after days of agony. So there were only 6 dwarf left from the 2nd squad, yet they finished their mision, to get an orc for interrogation with the help of human translators. With this information all the expedition go back, with new plants, animals, weapons, and information about Raxor hill defenses and secret passages. Back in storwind Burin get discharged and paid for his service, but a letter came to him saying that his father died a week ago because of a huge spider attack. Sad and lonely he found peace in the storwind catedral were he met Lord grayson and he took him under his wing as a newly added paladin of the light. Lord grayson send him back to dwarf lands as a test to see if he can really handle the real training that takes being a paladin. Now lonely and broke Burin have to get his way in the cold mountains and learn from different teachers around the eastern kingdoms to finally get back to Lord Grayson to fully finish his duty.

[Prioress]

Name: Unknown/Forgotten

Race: Forsaken

Class: Priest

Title: The Prioress

Height: Average

Weight/Build: Skin and bone...

Residence: Itinerant

Birthplace: Tirisfal

Motto: "Respect. Tenacity. Compassion...dimly, I remember."

Physical Description: Her face was like chipped porcelain, flaking off what was now an effigy of beatific sorrow. A twisted icon of grace and innocence, marred by the blight of decomposition and putrefaction. She was garbed in the decayed habit of a monastic of the Holy Light, moldy and deteriorated with the scent of the grave. Her high collar of aged chiffon and lace wrapped about her opened throat like a wreath of dead flowers whose browned petals curled, crackled and stiffened. About her neck was tied the wispy, frayed strands of a hangman's noose, like a macabre necklace.

Brief History: The Prioress, as her title suggests, was once head of an order of religious sisters dedicated to study and prayer to the Holy Light. Which convent it was no longer matters, but they gave healing to the peasants of the countryside and blessings to questing paladins and knights. At the coming of the plague of undeath and the Lich King's ravages, the convent was a tiny island of peace and the Light in a growing sea of darkness and corruption.

Many sought out the aid of the Priory and its sisters, including some already cursed by plague to die and rise anew. Keeping to her vows, the Prioress gave hospitality, food, shelter, and comfort to all who sought their aid. When the growing paranoia of Lordaeron's defenders sent madness hurtling through the once-noble Order of the Silver Hand, inquisitors in scarlet came calling, with charges of heresy and the sheltering of the damned. Refusing to repent and give over the sickly to the thirsting blades of the Scarlet Crusaders, The Prioress and her sisters were tortured and hung from the walls of their own home.

The Prioress awoke with a faded memory of her former self, and an equally dim understanding of the nightmare of her continued cursed existence.


Art: https://www.aaronsimscreative.com/

[Thiccroy]

Name: Dolokhov Steelblood

Race: Stromic Humans

Class: Warrior

House Name: House Steelblood

Title: Son of Strom

Nickname: "Dole"

Height: Around Six Feet / 185 cm
Weight/Build: 78 kg
Residence: On the Path
Birthplace: Stromgarde

Motto: "In the Fiery Blood, the Cold Steel!"

Physical Description:
A young man that has weathered an exodus, his exterior is mostly untouched, with small bruises and shallow cuts around his body showing all that he has not felt a blade deep into his body, but his dark, brown eyes have felt and seen the deaths of his kinsmen and his people.

His hair is braided in a Stromic style, with two braids passing over either shoulder's front. The hair itself, and the growing mustache above his lips are of a chestnut brown, matching the dark brown of his eyes.


Brief History:
Born in Stromgarde City as the youngest of three, Dolokhov grew up in the shadow of his eldest brother, Lord of the House, and his middle brother, a Knight within the King's Court. However, tragedy would strike the young man as his homeland and people would go into exodus after the Third War.

Growing up as an orphan without his brothers, who had fallen during Galen Trollbane's betrayal, he would be mentored by a strict War-Cleric of Northshire Abbey, who would teach him the ways of the blade and shield.

His current ambitions now lie in wait, as he aims to earn the title of Knight and be one of the first in the vanguard to reclaim his homeland...

[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