Age: ?? (both his birth time and location are unknown)
Class: Death Knight
Languages: Orcish, Thalassian, Darnassian, some Taureh
Faction(s): Knights of the Ebon Blade (is partially associated with the Horde; not entirely, but he isn't their enemy, either)
Personality: Gorthrak is a very impulsive person, known to be the 'act now, think later' type. He has very strong charisma, which can be deadly if he is given command of troops. Normally, that is avoided, though; not meaning he is an excellent follower, either. He's a bit of a lone-wolf, and it surprises no one if he insists on carrying out a mission alone. However, underneath this, and the dark aura that surrounds his being - a consequence of being resurrected by the Lich King - he has a heart, although cold, and tries to be the opposite of what he once was. Despite all this, however, he has little cockiness, and is actually humble in some cases.
Likes: Training with melee weapons, fighting alone, having his word heeded and a good skirmish
Dislikes: Being wrong (who doesn't?), the Scourge, being forced to do something against his will (which explains his strong hared for the Scourge)
Appearance: Gorthrak stands 7'8", with his grey hair spiked up into a mohawk. He is rarely seen wearing a helmet, preferring to show his scarred features, and wears a set of plate armor identical to what many Ebon Blade knights sport. He has a short, ragged beard and the same eyes as every other death knight has. He is powerfully built, with massive arms and a thick chest. He has a huge two-handed axe, the blade of which is inscribed with a number of runes that glow a dark crimson. His skin is dark grey and decayed, contrasting slightly with his hair, though in life, his hair was a light brown, his eyes a dark hazel, and is skin bright green.
Strengths: Gorthrak is specialized in blood spells. He is adept at healing his wounds, and those of any minions he summons. He has trained with his two-handed axe, Bloodrend, for almost eighteen years. The weapon followed him unto death, and thus, his connection to it is strong, empowering him as well.
Weaknesses: Gorthrak, because of the impulsion that naturally grips him, enables him to be hit unwary by numerous different traps. His personality damages his ability to both follow and lead, hindering him greatly in some situations, while assisting him in others. He is also a bit slow sometimes physically, especially when caught in a rage, and can be susceptible to ranged attacks.
~History~ Is that food?
The thought dogged fleetedly through Gorthrak's head as the nine-year-old orc sat crouched, protected by a small corpse of trees. His short, shaggy brown hair messy and tangled, his form unhealthy and scrawny, showing his lack of food. His hazel eyes were wary and alert, and his tunic and breeches were ragged and torn, smeared in mud and brush. He wore nothing on his feet or hands.
He clenched his right hand tighter around the hilt of his handmade dagger. The dagger was carved from the thighbone looted from the corpse of an animal he'd found almost a week ago. His left hand was empty, and he brought it up and brushed a lock of brown hair from his face, blinking through the harsh sunlight. For some odd reason, the trees brought back old and long-forgotten memories...
He was a newborn child. He awoke, screaming, the gleaming sun blinding him. All the different sensations hitting him at once, all the noises... It was too much. His cries increased in volume, until a shadow passed over him, blocking out the sunlight. He was gripped from both tiny arms and hoisted into the air, forced to confront an angry face. The face had a square jaw, flat nose and green eyes that glared angrily into his own hazel eyes. The face's mouth curved upward in a snarl, revealing yellow, broken teeth.
For some odd reason, his cries died slowly, as he stared in wonder into this seemingly-ugly face. The eyes narrowed, focusing carefully on him, then he was pressed into a basket and handed off to another. This one's face looked similar to the one before, but its teeth were in much better health, and its eyes were blue. It had a bit of scruff on its chin and cheeks, and a much more pleasant smell about it.
The face's mouth opened, and sounds could be heard coming from it. Gorthrak could make no sense of the strange noises; he just stared, hazel eyes wide at this odd face, which shook from side to side in disgust.
Corporal Thomas growled, handing the orc child off to his second-in-command. "Take the bastard," he snarled, turning and walking towards his warsteed. "We'll bring it to the commander. What happens next is his choice."
"Yes, Corporal!" the soldier saluted, then placed the orc babe in a baskat and handed it off to one of their battle-mages. The Quel'dorei took the basket with care, gazing curiously at the thing within.
"What in the name of the Light..." the high elf stammered, looking up to the corporal with his sapphire eyes. "An orc child? What purpose does taking this thing to the commander serve?"
"It is not your place to question my orders, elf," Thomas barked, mounting his charger and gripping the reins tightly between gauntleted hands. "It's a curious find indeed; one I'm fairly certain the commander will want to be notified about."
Commander Alex Nelsonn glared at his two highest-ranking officers with a mixture of fury and disgust. "What in the blazes is this thing?" he roared, slamming his fist down upon the arm of his chair.
Corporal Thomas bowed his head lower, forcing himself to look at the basket set in front of him, and the ugly creature within it. "An orc babe, Sir."
"And what the bloody hell is it doing in my keep, Corporal?!"
Thomas stammered before replying. His second-in-command, as well as the high elf battle-mage, both stood behind him in stoic silence. "W-well Sir, when we'd d-discovered the child, it was bawling its eyes out. It looked hungry, and we thought..."
"Thought what?!" Commander Nelsonn snarled in fury. "That we could recreate the legendary Thrall of Durnholde? That we could follow in the damned footsteps of ol' Blackmoore?"
"No!" Corporal Thomas corrected himself swiftly. "No, Sir! Of course not!"
"My liege?" the high elf spoke quickly, interrupting Thomas's next words. "If I may?" He approached slowly, hands clasped behind his back, blond hair tied in a ponytail, sapphire eyes meeting Commander Nelsonn's dark brown.
The commander closed his eyes and took a moment to calm himself. "Speak."
"A close friend of mine happens to be quite skilled in the healing arts. If I may so boldy suggest, the wise and skillfull commander may make use of this child through... Certain means."
Nelsonn paused before speaking. "What are you getting at, elf?"
"If we were to take this cautiously, and approach with reason and logic, perhaps we could replicate Blackmoore's work, but with more... Successful results."
Nelsonn narrowed his eyes. "Go on..."
"If we healed the babe, fed him and began his training early on, as Blackmoore had done, then perhaps we could make him into more than what the Lieutenant had made before us."
(To be continued...)
((Gorthrak's history is going to be a very long one, and I'm going to write it as I did with part of Velirra's; a more novel-like approach to it. That is why I tried my best to do some explaining of his past in his character description... Hope it's OK for now! And just so nobody is confused, the history written up already is of his past... though he doesn't remember a lot of his childhood, I'm still writing it up, just because it's good to have a good description. -Mexy))