Character Bio Thread

[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