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    ([BIO]) Nir'gil - Undead Troll Warlock

    First "rough" draft for this character, unlike some other toons this was kinda made up as I went along...
    Let me know what you think, what is completely outragous (if anything, hopefully its all reasonable) and what is good, bad and what needs adjusting etc...

    Name: Nir'gil
    Age:35 Living, 3 Years Undeath
    Race: Forsaken Troll
    Gender: Male
    Class: Nir'gil is an Affliction Warlock, previously, in life a shadow based witch doctor (shadow priest type thing?)

    Languages: Nir'gil speaks Zandali, orcish, Gutterspeak and common.


    During life Nir'gil was a Forest Troll of the Amani Tribe. A lot of his previous life is still unknown to him, Nir'gil now gives his allegiance to the forsaken, appreciative of Silvanas accepting him, and recognising the Trolls as potential kin.


    Nir'gil was, in life, a Forest Troll of the Amani Tribe, now raised into a 'life' of undeath Nir'gil has lost some of his musculature, and stands straighter than most trolls leaving him at nearly his full, imposing, 7'3" tall.
    Nir'gil's skin is a very sickly green colour, he has no hair. Covering the Warlocks face are intricate tribal tattoos, all in a fading purple. Nir'gil's tusks curve up from his mouth, only about 3-4 inches in length and 3/4 of an inch at their thickest point and his ears are long sweeping up in a slow curve, each ear is pierced seven times with golden rings.
    Nir'gil wears a set of deep purple robes, with a matching mantle draped across his shoulders. He carries with him a Staff, nearly as long as he is tall, the top contains a long cylindrical metal wrought cage studded with soul stones, this causes an ethereal soul mist to swirl within the cage, emitting a faint purple glow.
    He also has an intricately crafted "soul bone" pierced through his nose, this is a special soul shard shaped like a bone. In this Nir'gil keeps stored an emergency soul, its proximity to him allows for instant use in a tight spot.


    Nir'gil since his undeath rebirth naturally was drawn to the powers to corrupt shadow magiks, not remembering that this was similar to his previous life. He is very skilled at using these magiks to slowly destroy his enemies over a period of time, rather than in a flashy burst like some other magickers he has seen since returning to 'life'
    He is also incredibly skilled at the manipulation of souls, storing them within soul stones and using them to embower himself when the need arises.


    The concept of summoning and enslaving daemons is new to Nir'gil, and as such he is not as skilled as other warlocks at doing so. So far, Nir'gil can only summon and bind 2 daemons reliably and effectively. (for more information on Nir'gil's Daemons, see below)


    Zhaan'oni - An average sized Fel Hound, its skin a dark red with patches of black hair hanging down. Unlike other Fel Hounds with poor eye sight, Zhaan'oni has no eyes at all, his large gaping mouth is filled with razor sharp teeth, with oversized canines seeping with a strange pale blue liquid . . .
    Zhaan'oni has four large Horns framing its face, two larger ones extruding from its shoulders, constantly looking like a fresh wound, seeping with blood, and two smaller horns come from his chest and under his mouth. It has a long tail, barbed at the end, seeping with the same pale blue liquid as his canines. Lastly Zhaan'oni has three large tentacles used for sensing nearby magic.

    Gara'n'chiiro - A large Void Caller, appearing as a large hulking shadow, crackling with void energies, draped over its shoulders is a large sheet of rotting cloth with two lanterns hanging from it, glowing with a pale white-pink light. From Gara'n'chiiro's "face" there are two shining pink orbs, presumably eyes, and an... opening... which could be construed as a mouth, as when it opens a shrieking sound often comes forth, often while the Void Caller is summoning forth the void energies required to cast its spells...


    Nir'gil is generally quite distrusting, he still cannot remember his previous life, but a nagging voice in his head keeps telling him that he is not where he should be, these are not his people... However a strange sense of honour dictates that these people (the forsaken) have taken him in, and helped develop his powers. Because of this he respects Sylvanas greatly, as well as the higher ups of the forsaken warlock coven. His respect lessens to a begrudging respect as the chain of authority lessens, and to a bare tolerance of everyone else within the horde.

    Because of this, he often comes across as being very short tempered with people he speaks with, sometimes getting him in trouble with people he is supposed to be co-operating with.

    Anything else Nir'gil dislikes greatly, caused largely by his confusion of his past, but he tends not to bezerk with his anger and hatred, but seethes quietly, shown in his methods of slowly draining the life from his enemies, inflicting pain upon them for longer periods of time, relishing the "torture".


    Nir'gil doesn't like much, he greatly enjoys his work and experimentation with soul stones, pushing his understanding of what can be done with them to the limits.
    It could also be said he enjoys the pain he inflicts on others when in combat, sometimes he will go from a seething hatred when he starts an altercation, but before the end he will often be relishing the pain and anguish before draining his targets soul, smiling to himself that he has denied their soul any possible joys of an afterlife . . .

    Nir'gil dislikes most things, although he especially dislikes being under estimated in what he can achieve.

    There is a middle ground regarding the Trolls of the Horde, initially he was drawn to them, a people like his own, but recently the voice in his head is adamant they are not his people, so he is now torn in his feelings towards the Trolls


    :::Work in progress:::
    general idea so far for troll life: was a shadow priest within the Amani tribe (witch doctor type thing? not too hot on troll lore) I'm not sure how long ago (suggestions welcome) he was killed somewhere in western plaguelands and awoke to his new life three years ago.

    Undeath Story:

    Upon rising as an undead forest troll, he knew not who or where he was, he wondered aimlessly for a while, not sure what to do when he stumbled across a skirmish between some humans and something not quite human, corpses? He watched the battle intently from the tree line, obscured from sight by some bushes, when some human reinforcements arrived one of them spotted Nir'gil and charged. Unarmed Nir'gil instinctively raised his hands towards the charging soldier, and with little effort dark energies started seeping from the human towards his hands, forming in a purple mist ball in his palm, transfixed by this he barely noticed the human drop to the floor...

    More of the new human arrivals saw their comrade fall, screamed a battle cry and charged towards Nir'gil, who was still absorbed within the mists in his hand that he did not notice the four warriors charging towards him. Luckily the Forsaken combatants had finished off their human foes, and two of the Rangers managed to shoot 2 of the charging Humans down while a warrior intercepted another.

    The last warrior was but a few yards away from Nir'gil when the Undead Troll looked up in realisation that he was about to be attacked again. He clasped his hand around the swirling purple mist and thrust it with both hands towards the chest of the Human, whose sword was raised above his head to strike.

    But the strike never came, as the mist made contact with the Human's chest it combined with Nir'gil's own shadow energies and a powerful dark flash burst from the contact point as the void blast sent the Warrior flying backwards, landing in a bloodied, smouldering heap . . .

    Shocked at what he had done, a rising sense of accomplishment rose within Nir'gil. "Erm, thank you for the help Troll, your arrival distracted the Human's reinforcements long enough for us to finish the initial Human patrol party." Nir'gil looked up, and saw the one of the not quite human's was speaking to him...
    "what are ye mon? Ye dun' look like dem" said Nir'gil nodding towards the scattered human corpses.
    "Ah, erm, well friend, we are members of the forsaken, we were once humans like them" said the undead, gesturing towards the humans, "but we died and have been reborn"
    "I see..." said Nir'gil hesitantly, still not quite sure how to take the news.
    "I am sergeant Morris Ghoulhand, if I may be so bold, who are you and why are you here Troll? And how did you come to be undead?" asked the Sergeant, cautiously.
    "..." Nir'gil Paused, realising he did not know the answers to the Forsaken's questions "I don't know mon, I woke up a lil' while ago mon, I dun' remember anything" Said the Troll, something between anger and panic rising, why couldn’t he remember? "what ye mean 'undead' mon?" finished Nir'gil
    "Oh, erm, well..." Stammered the Sergeant quickly "It appears Troll, that you too have died and have risen again to walk among the living as undead, I'm not sure how though" Paused the Sergeant, giving the Troll time to take the news in "But you helped us out, and showed impressive magic skills as well" the sergeant paused again, thinking. "If you would like, we can take you to the undercity, there we can point you in the direction of some folk who can possibly answer your questions?"

    Nir'gil considered the offer, and everything else the Forsaken has told him. Dead? how could he be dead? Why couldn't he remember anything? How did he do what he did to those humans? What was the swirling purple mist? So many questions!
    "Yeh'mon, I have lotsa questions, if ya can help answer them, I'd be thankin' ya"


    ::::to expand=>:::: The Sergeant and his soldiers led Nir'gil to the Undercity, specifically to the Magic Quarter, there the Troll was introduced to Luther Pickman and found out that the purple mist was the Human's soul, and he had drained it straight from his body into his palm, and that this was no easy task. This lead to more questions and eventually the start of more training from the Warlock Coven, taking particular interest in souls, and their manipulation.

    After a few months, of simply being called Troll, due to not knowing his name, and feeling uncomfortable making one up, Nir'gil started on rare occasions hearing a voice, it didn't take long to realise that this was a voice only he could hear, this voice reassured Nir'gil, told him he was doing the right thing. One evening, while Nir'gil was asleep, He awoke with a start, eyes wide open, dark energy surrounding his entire body, he heard the voice, as clear as he ever had "Nir'gil, your name is Nir'gil" the Troll did not question this, it felt right.
    Nir'gil was pleased to finally have a name again, since that day however the reassuring voice has occasionally started whispering doubts . . .

    Nir'gil never did connect the arrival of the voice with his first opening of the void to summon his first daemon . . .


    Rough appearance:

    Daemon Info:

    Story Info:

    I intend to expand on the Arrival at Undercity, and the learning of what he is, but I don't know much about undeath and the reanimation involved.
    I'd also like to go into more depth on learning about his powers, but don't want to go into too much detail as I'd risk making him too OP sounding =p
    After that I'd like to explain his training a bit, his laughing off of fire spells/fel flame spells etc, his affination with affliction and his struggles with summoning, but then finding two very reliable minions.
    and finally the crafting of his staff. . .

    But it was all a bit rushed, so shall expand another time.

    Feedback Appreciated!


  2. #2
    Dreadlord Kaga's Avatar
    Join Date
    Sep 2009
    Aberdeen, Scotland
    I'm not much of an RPer, but this was a brilliant read!
    Would love to see more.
    Kaga, raid leader of Shafted, Ragnaros-EU.

  3. #3
    Quote Originally Posted by Kaga View Post
    I'm not much of an RPer, but this was a brilliant read!
    Would love to see more.
    Cheers ^_^ I shall probably expand on the story at some point, just kinda made it up while writing it, so not sure how good it actually is... lol

  4. #4
    Stood in the Fire Schaapa's Avatar
    Join Date
    Jun 2012
    A safe distance from you
    I'm so jealous of you people managing to come up with these stories I want to make a RP character, but my first attempt at a troll hunter failed miserably :S

  5. #5
    Scarab Lord Mehman's Avatar
    Join Date
    Mar 2012
    Holy Grail tournament
    i like the idea of an undead troll instead of the stereotypical human or elf undead, when i get time i'll read the bio

  6. #6
    Quote Originally Posted by Mehman View Post
    i like the idea of an undead troll instead of the stereotypical human or elf undead, when i get time i'll read the bio
    yeh i figured i could mix the fun of being undead and those RP factors with the fun of talking like a troll mon!

  7. #7
    Scarab Lord Mehman's Avatar
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    Quote Originally Posted by Kipling View Post
    Languages: Nir'gil speaks Zandali, orcish, Gutterspeak and common.
    isn't it called Zandalari btw? not sure here, i dont play a troll

  8. #8
    you made me question it, just checked again, and according to the wiki its Zandali

  9. #9
    Zandalari is a term used for some trolls. Zandali is their language.
    Just to confirm it.
    Also, undead troll? Very nice. Like the idea that he is weaker in some areas than other locks, but in some he is more powerful. Very nice.

  10. #10
    Quote Originally Posted by xMexyragosX View Post
    Zandalari is a term used for some trolls. Zandali is their language.
    Just to confirm it.
    Also, undead troll? Very nice. Like the idea that he is weaker in some areas than other locks, but in some he is more powerful. Very nice.
    Thanks, I wanted to emphasise that he is affliction lock, to the extent that I don't expect him to learn/know any of the fire spells/destruction/demo spells, but be pretty good with affliction based spells.

    The idea was that although he hasn't been training very long in the warlock coven, what he has learnt is naturally quite powerful because of his "unknown" former life using shadow magic.

    And I liked the idea of being better than average at manipulating souls, although I'm not sure the best way of using this, I might have to have a look at MoP soul shard spells and see if there is anything more affliction based in there, as on live there is sod all =p could just use it for healing/big shadow explosion stuff . . .

  11. #11
    Scarab Lord Mehman's Avatar
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    Mar 2012
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    well as i said i didn't actually know what their language was called..

    anyways, i've just finished reading the bio and it looks really nice, and really well put together and i can't wait to RP with him

  12. #12
    I was thinking about the story a bit last night and was wondering - would the narrative read better if even the Reader didn't know the Trolls name until it was revealed to him?

  13. #13
    Scarab Lord Mehman's Avatar
    Join Date
    Mar 2012
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    well the only way you can achieve that would be to change the title of the thread and remove his name from the top of the bio. but yeah it'd add a nice touch to it, but make it alot harder to find his name afterwards

  14. #14
    I think the thread and actual Bio could stay as they are, for the purposes of RP etc,

    i was just thinking for the actual history, story etc, as I'm tempted to expand it further into a proper short story type thing xD

    Who knows maybe even a full on book

  15. #15
    Scarab Lord Mehman's Avatar
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    Mar 2012
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    well i wouldn't mind reading that at some point when i get time. whatever suits you Kip

  16. #16
    I'm in the process of writing the story from is "awakening" which I look forward to getting some feedback on, I'll also re-write some of the existing stuff to follow suit...

    if all goes well you're in for a treat! =D

  17. #17
    Scarab Lord Mehman's Avatar
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    Mar 2012
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    i love treats! aslong as it doesn't have wheat in it.. i'm allergic

  18. #18
    i'll avoid wheat based treats . . .

  19. #19
    Quote Originally Posted by Kaga View Post
    I'm not much of an RPer, but this was a brilliant read!
    Would love to see more.
    I second tat
    Khadgar IS Medivh
    Be feared, or be fuel

  20. #20
    Because everyone loves some thread necromancy, and because well that seemed fitting considering the character and the reason for the posting....

    I realised that even though its been a few months since I said about it, and even since I wrote what I'm going to post, that I never did post the bits of the story I proceeded to write for this character. Admittedly it kinda fell by the wayside and I only wrote the first "chapter" so far, and I'm still not 100% happy with it - but perhaps some positive comments and feedback might make me go back to it...

    Anyways, hopefully you'll enjoy the following:

    __________________________________________________________________________________________ __

    A Soul Out of Time

    Chapter 1

    Undeath Story:

    Darkness, there was only darkness, why did he wake up to darkness, who was he? A faint beating sound could be heard. “Where am I?” he thought to himself. He was unable to move, unable to do anything at all.

    Darkness, there was only darkness and the steady, rhythmic beating sound. For what seemed an eternity, that was all there was for him. Trapped, not able to move anything, see anything, and only that incessant, quiet noise was the only thing he could hear.
    A louder rumbling sound was heard, accompanied by a violent shake, wracking his body around. He felt something wet both around his shoulders and feet. He couldn’t feel any pain, nor remember being hurt; perhaps it wasn’t blood after all.

    Gradually the moisture seeped around, until most of his body felt wet. Was the rhythmic noise getting louder? Or was it just his ears becoming more accustomed to his lack of sight? The sound intensified; “no, it definitely be getting’ louder” he thought, as he blinked away water from his eyes.
    He almost felt like he could feel the sound on the skin of his face. “Uurrggghhh…..” he tried to speak in a start, as the blackness before his eyes seemed to brighten, even if it was just to a dark brown. Tentatively he tried moving again, were his arms and legs bound? Why couldn’t be move? None of this made any sense to him. Struggling he just managed to move his head slightly, doing so making the brown before his eyes slightly lighter.
    With more ferocity he thrust his head in all directions trying to free himself from his bonds. The brown lightening to a dirty cream, however he was still unable to move his arms or legs.

    He could definitely feeling something beating steadily, gently against his face; no, not quite his face something was still covering his face. Before he knew it he was soaked through. Experimenting wriggling he found he could now twist his shoulders slightly.
    He kept moving around as best he could, gradually more of his was exposed to what he assumed must be rain. With one final effort something stopped holding him back, he fell and rolled steadily. A sharp pain exploded in his arm, followed by another to his legs, then back and finally head.
    Blissful sleep followed.

    His eyes opened with a start as he was awoken by a deep growling sound, still only able to see a dirty cream colour before his eyes, something was definitely covering them, and most of the rest of his body.
    He tried moving his arms and legs again. His legs were still bound very tight, but his right arm now had a bit of movement allowed to it, painful although it was. With a long painful struggle he managed to free his elbow from its binding, he could feel the rain water running freely over his skin, it was a very odd sensation, as if he was remembering something from an age past?
    The water stung what felt like it must be a fresh wound, probably from his tumble. Slowly and painfully he managed to wriggle his arm free, it felt blissfully good to be able to move his arm, how long had he be bound for?

    He felt his hand up towards his face, feeling the rough material constricting him, soaked through, he managed to get his fingers between some of the wraps by his eyes and pulled them apart. He shut his eyes hard again at the sudden brightness before him.
    The dim daylight was even bright against his closed eye lids. Gradually over a few minutes he pulled more material free, gradually letting his eyes, behind his eyelids, become accustomed to the light. He was suddenly thankful that it was raining, with the harsh sunlight hidden behind the clouds.
    Once his head was free, he was just about to open his eyes, although he still needed to squint a lot. He looked down and saw he was wrapped still from shoulder to feet, apart from his one free arm, in dirty, muddied bandages. Why was he bound so? It made no sense to him. Ignoring the throbbing pains in his arm, legs, back and head he worked on freeing his other arm, and eventually his legs.

    Once free from bondage, he leaned back against the tree that had apparently stopped his earlier fall, looking up the hill he must have rolled down. He saw some bandages trailing down to where he was from a sharp rock, its tip piercing a bandage where it had caught, covered in red “dat explains da pain” he thought to himself. Further up from the rock that had helped free him from his bondage the green rolling grass of the hill was covered in mud and earth which continued most of the way up the hill.
    His eyes opened wide as he saw the hole in the ground, he didn’t need to look any further, he realised he was trembling, “Urrrggghhhhh….” He groaned, throat parched, still unable to speak properly. Memories still eluded him, but in a terrifying way his immediate circumstances were explained. The trembling soon subsided into a dull ache, his tired muscles unable to maintain the effort of even the small motions needed to remain trembling.

    “Buried Alive?” he thought grimly to himself, why would he be buried alive? Why couldn’t he remember anything? He closed his eyes and tried to relax as best he could, he couldn’t tell where the blood on the rock above had come from, and he hurt in several places. Slowly he looked over his body, starting at his feet, his two toes on each foot looked intact, the green of his skin looked a pale shade of the vibrant emerald green he remembered “must just be da mud” he thought.
    His long lank legs looked thinner than they should “how long have I been buried” he thought grimly? Whatever clothes he had been buried in were now just brown tatters, barely covering his torso and thighs. He wasn’t sure why but he felt he had deserved to be buried in something better… Why couldn’t he remember?

    The dryness of his throat started to aggravate him more, aware just how parched it was, he tilted his head back, his dank black hair falling, wet, over his shoulders; his short tusks pointing to the sky as he opened his mouth, and let the rain water slowly moisten his mouth, before painfully swallowing the little water built up in the mouth. The swallowing of the water just taunted his throat, it was not enough to make him feel better, and he knew he would need to find a better source of water soon.

    Deciding he couldn’t stay here, he put his right palm to the grass and tried to roll his weight onto it to push himself up. Pain erupted down his arm, and a fresh splatter of blood up the side of the tree rewarded his efforts as he collapsed in pain back into the grass. Silently Cursing the Loa he used his Left arm to aid him in getting to his feet. Water was still his priority, his arm didn’t seem broken, and he knew his Troll blood would have his arm back to full working order in no time.

    He set off back down the hill slowly, lest his leg muscles give out from too much exertion, figuring that downhill should eventually lead to a valley where he would hopefully find water…

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