[Bio] Latrina Crovale

[Deleted]

Name: Latrina Crovale.

Age: 37.

Race: Human.

Gender: Female.

Languages: Common, phrases of Thalassian.

Class/Occupation: Scarlet Crusader.

Personality: Latrina is of normal Scarlet breed. She has the stubborn side of an ox, yet the fervent fanaticism of a most loyal slave. Her caring side was subdued by endless amounts of training and disciplinary trainings. Her emotions are numbed, only her anger and seeking for vengeance shown through her shell of an exterior. Most of the time, she conveys her anger into many odd acts. She will venture out and kill undead she comes across to vent her rage, being unable to keep it pent up all the time. Perhaps her most defining personality-esque feature would be her endless determination. Once she begins something, she refuses to stop until it is achieved or she is dead. Due to this, she sees herself as a holy subject and an individual of true faith. She regards fear and cowardice as some of the worst qualities man could possess. Any betrayers or dissents in her presence shall be murdered without due cause in the name of the Crimson war machine.

However, she follows orders to the letter. Commands to her as her life. Slip on atleast one and you deserve the most wicked of punishments. It has been hardwired into her brain not to fail or be disgraced amongst her comrades forever. Due to this, her actions commonly convey observation mixed with impulse. She will charge forth, but let the enemy attack her afterwards and try to find selective weaknesses within her training or armour.

She, herself, is neurotic. The most minor of problems can cause her to freak and lash out at anyone within the vicinity; the tiniest of undead, even a squirrel, can result in her trying to butcher a whole village out of sheer panic and bloodlusted, fanatic craze. She also ties onto her fear of tight spaces(claustrophobia) and being left alone or abandoned.

Appearance: Her eyes. Her eyes are fearsome; they are the deepest of red and shimmer with the mentality of a true Scarlet. The insanity, perhaps, of anyone whom dares get in her way. She shows no remorse in her steel features; her face is a solid build, as if carved from stone, and never shows true emotion beyond irritation and impatience. Her cheeks are gaunt and pushed in, making her seem pale and weakly as her eyebrows arch downwards to comb the tops of her eyes, giving her a permanent angry-like expression. Her hair is a deep, fiery red that brushes against her cheeks and falls down infront to her breasts and downwards to the middle-section of her shoulder.

Her armour is similiar, if not.. strange. It is formed of the deepest iron-like material, a dull grey encrusted with crimson-red. It shapes over her like a suit of mechanical armour, fitting her in welcome form. The material used slows her down, but provides multiple protection. Her gauntlets are shaped with engravements of two swords, slicing downwards onto her knuckles, as the fingers extend out into claw-like grip - almost as if the hand of an animal. The main torso area of her armour is engraved with the welcoming flame of the Scarlet organization, extending like a flap over her legs which are supported with leather on the back so she does not have too much difficulty walking. Her sabatons end in similiar curving design, tipped with a sharp at the end as if used to kick upwards and slice into enemies.

Her weapon of choice is a large greatsword(a claymore, most likely) dotted with two rigid edges on each side. They connect on a slender-steel frame of a weapon that protrudes outwards and is held in firm grasp by an ornate hilt - yet, it looks worn and weared as if through many a use before. The hilt ends in a slight rigid bulb; as if a miniature morning star.

Strengths/Weaknesses
Strengths:

• Strength: Her strength is quite athletic due to discipline and training. It is of a trained human's strength; nothing superpowered.

• Faith: Her faith is unwavering in the Light, mainly due to the teachings of the Scarlet regime.

• Proficieny: The use of a sword comes rather naturally to her, if only with a few subtle mistakes that could cost her own damage.

• Loyalty: She follows orders of her superiors to the letter, never faltering from her destined path.

Weaknesses:

• Mentality: Her impulsive nature causes her to rush into battle, leaving much to be desired when she bites off more then she can chew.

• Cruelty and Anger: Her natural anger and hot-headedness means she cannot vent her angers as others can and -MUST- inevitably kill something to find stress and serenity in her daily life.

• Disorder: Her neurosis causes her to have stress over perceived issues without halucinations. This causes her to panic and go overboard when dealing with a normally simple situation.

History:
Latrina was born long ago, near the start of the Dark Portal's entrance into the world of Azeroth. She was born within the land of Lordaeron, before the refuges of Stormwind decided to arrive. Within her childhood, she was normal peace-loving girl whom was seperated from the rest. She knew she was different; whilst others would play in the gardens or run around the fields, she would try to count as much blades of grass formed her garden or how many birds passed by every hour or so. She would commonly talk to herself for she had nobody else to talk -to- and found her life strangely happy and fun, even if nobody talked to her.

One day, her father walked up to her and merely looked out across the grass that was formed infront of their cottage. It billowed in the breeze and let out a fresh scent of the early morning dew. He pursed his lips and stared at her with his knowing blue eyes; his face was aged and worn due to being a farmer. He looked back at the nearby trees, inhaled and spoke with his usual, deep voice.
"My dear Latrina, will you ever get friends? How do you intend to grow and marry if you are not speaking to others?" he stated, knowingly.
Latrina did not even look at him. Actually, she did not even twitch. She merely sat there, eyes closed, inhaling in the wind. "Because, father. I do not need to be friends with people. They annoy me. I try to tell them something and they do not understand. It.. annoys me." Her voice was filled with irritation at the people around her and with the usual stress of her mentality. Her father nodding knowingly and kneeled down next to her, holding his back as he did with a loud 'umpf'. "Yes, my sweetheart. But there will always be -someone- out there for you. Like the birds or the bees, or the endless trees.. you will find the one for you and you will be the one for them, too." he rhymed with a cheery smile, gently tapping Latrina's noise and kissing her on the side of head. "Now, come along. We have things to do, my dear."
And so she took his hand and skipped along with her father; little did she know he would not be more wrong in the days come.

Years later, when the land of Lordaeron was filled to the brim with refuges seeking shelter from the war with the orcish barbarians, Latrina truly understood fear and death.
In one Winter's eve, as she walked the lanes of Lordaeron city, in a brimming gown given to her by a noble man seeking her hand, she heard a noise.
"..Hmm..who's there?" she hesitantly asked, her eyes slightly stinging and her throat going dry. She thought knowing of it and continued, her shoes gently tapping against the stone and crunching against the snow. Again! She heard a gentle tapping sound.. like water down a drain. She perked an eyebrow and cupped her hands infront of her waist, gently edging along to find the reason for such a disturbance. She kept edging forward until she came to a clearing within the houses. She gently shifted along the cobblestone paths until she was in the center of this large expanse; it was formed of houses on all available sides with the square most likely used for markets on normal days and meetings of the 'district's elders' on other days to trivial on things from the Crusades, to orcs, all the way to what new form of porridge they are having delivered. Carefully, she eyed her surroundings, observing every detail. Until, one thing stood out.
Infront of her was a corpse. It was hanging from a single tree in the whole square, the blood of the corpse gently tapping against the ground. It swayed in the wind and gently turned; further.. further.
Fear struck her mind as her whole face with limp and pale. Her eyes turned into a glaze as her body froze with shock and suddenly kick-started again, sending her into overdrive as she sharply turned and belted down the alleyway with such speed, she was gone within minutes. She suddenly buckled under her feet as she stopped at a quiet corner and sat there, head in hands, crying under the approaching snow.
The corpse, of course, was the noble whom seeked her hand.

With such an image dwelling on her mind, she did not anticipate the arrival of the Scourge. She was an adult now and had inherited everything her mother and father had worked for: Not much, truly. She knew only poverty and suffering; the slums were home to many a dying breed and she would escape it by exploring the wilderness despite it's dangers. Along with such a mindset, when the Scourge arrived she was shocked and appalled. They were creatures of horror and destruction and served to be destroyed. She nothing good in them; they were mindless and rotting. The rights of people were violated when they were raised from their final resting places to serve in nefarious plots.
And so, she survived such horror, mainly by avoiding all Scourge she encountered; by tumbling away when they approached and hiding within buildings or behind wagons, carts, barrels, anything, to avoid being detected or attacked - she never faced them head on, at the very least - and joined the last remaining Dynasty of her people: The Scarlet Crusade.
They trained her and toughened her to such a degree, she saw no more sympathy or bliss. She saw only the destruction and corruption that plagued the world as it was and took it upon herself to extinguish every last one of them.

"If I am to die, then so be it. Yet, if I am to die, they shall die with me. If am to be left to rot in the snow, so shall others. Once my sword is swung, they shall fall whether they like it or not. My death will be meaningless; one out of thousands, but atleast I shall take pleasure in felling you before my time has come. Nothing can stand between me and the goal I have set to achieve; not you, nor any of your petty little necromatic beasts. My time has come to shine and take center stage: And if you dare try to stop me, I will blow a hole in your head so big, I can fit my fist through it."

[Deleted]

I'm sorry, but I just can't disconnect the character's name from 'latrine'.

Anyway, insanity is old and done. Can't we have a right thinking Scarlet who wholeheartedly believes in the cause of the Crusade, instead of every last bearer of that tabard being a psychopathic wreck?

[Vadoor]

I'm sorry, but I just can't disconnect the character's name from 'latrine'.

Anyway, insanity is old and done. Can't we have a right thinking Scarlet who wholeheartedly believes in the cause of the Crusade, instead of every last bearer of that tabard being a psychopathic wreck?

The "right thinking" part of the crusade died with Alexandros Mograine. Most of the people that are in the crusade have lived a very traumatic life, do to Lordaeron being rocked by the Scourge, to find someone not traumatized by those events in the Scarlet Crusade would likely be a miracle. Anyways its a nice bio but the part about her lover being killed was quite vague. Why was he murdered?

[Sora Dawnblade]

I think it is very well written for a first character, though as Frost quite crudely put it, it is a little bit cookiecutter. That being said, impressive nonetheless. Interested to see how you develop her in an RP, as her manic side will land her in strife.

[Deleted]

The "right thinking" part of the crusade died with Alexandros Mograine. Most of the people that are in the crusade have lived a very traumatic life, do to Lordaeron being rocked by the Scourge, to find someone not traumatized by those events in the Scarlet Crusade would likely be a miracle.

Yes, just so you know, the Scarlet Crusade operates in an environment(s) filled to the brink with unstoppable, undying abominations. Thirsting constantly for their souls. Or at least they did when they were still relevant.

Calling them all 'evil' and 'psychopathic' because they burn down a village or two that's tainted is downright juvenile in many respects. Given their predicament, it is perhaps the most rational way to go about things. I'm just saying that calling them all insane because of this is a boring generalization. Traumatized is good, but Alexandros himself was also traumatized by the same events. He was also a fanatical sort, but he wasn't entirely insane.

Even so.

[Aramore]

The thing about the Crusade is they are evil but they don't consider themselves to be. They kill any innocents they find that could be undead but as said above this is the most sensible course of action in a place like Lordaeron. It's like what Arthas did in Stratholme, a truly inethical act but there is no doubt that by culling the entire city he in fact saved many more lives by preventing an even larger Scourge army.

I also wouldn't call them insane but deluded and weak willed. A lot of the Scarlets don't actually want to kill innocents but others in the order that are blinded by zealotry would consider this strange. And once you join the Crusade the only way out is death so they carry on regardless.

To be honest a reluctant crusader sounds like quite an interesting character.