Flak

Information

Player: Reigen

Character Full Name: Flak

Character In-Game Name: Flak

Nickname(s): Flak

Association(s): Darkspear Trolls, Horde

Race: Troll

Class: Warrior

Skills and Abilities: Nothing out of the ordinary for a warrior

Age: 59

Sex: Male

Hair: Grey, once a vibrant red.

Eyes: Gold

Weight: 291 lbs

Height: 7’11”

Appearance

Usual Garments/Armor: This old troll remains in the old armor he was given as a youth. The armor is stained from years of blood, sweat and occasionally tears. His maces, which once shimmered bright, have dulled and chipped away from years use and crashing into the skulls of his enemies.

Other: The troll is aged, that much is obvious by the wrinkles that line his face, mostly around his eyes and jaw. His body is littered with scars, most of all his feet, which he can never seem to find shoes for.

Personality

Alignment: Neutral

Flak has become lazy as a result of his old age, slowly moving around with little hurry to be anywhere. He speaks with a hint of wisdom and rarely loses his temper unless strongly provoked by another. With his age has come humor and a strange understanding in what waits for him.

Flak is kind to the orcs, tauren and trolls and cares little of the Forsaken and Blood Elves. To him, the new races of the horde are nothing more than troubled children needing a stern spanking. He doesn’t outright shun them nor does he go out of his way to help them. He would rather the Forsaken return to the graves, even if the numbers may help the Horde gain an advantage over the Alliance.

The old troll hates most of the alliance, turning a blind eye to them should they be in need of help. He knows he cannot go out and hunt humans as he used to, and with more areas adopting neutrality, he finds himself forced to deal with them civilly. If an Alliance member manages to amuse him, he may find himself rambling to them.

History

Flak was born on Darkspeak Island just like most all of his brethren. His mother and many other women were property of his father and he grew on roughhousing with his other male siblings. He was one of many children from his father’s blood and the eldest brothers would teach the younger ones how to survive in the world. Many days and nights were spent tumbling around his siblings, running into trees, stubbing toes and angering the animals that walked around.

As the father grew old, fewer siblings would come to be. Flak had grown to be known for his temper; often throwing the younger siblings that would annoy him into trees with surprising strength. The display of his uncontrolled anger impressed his father and a few chosen brothers. He would train under them to harness his fury while his other siblings moved on to hunt, practice the voodoo or hurry off to find mates.

The training went on for a long time, the young troll’s body growing each day and providing a raw power for his father and brothers to fight with. He left himself wide open for most attacks, but made up for it in the force of his blows. When Flak at last stopped growing, he was presented with a set of armor and two shimmering, brutal maces. His family would soon come to regret it as they started to leave the training sessions with broken bones and many wounds.

Flak made a living off of beating the crap out of others on the island. His father would make bets for the son winning and for each win the family would gain many needed items for their survival and even mates for his brothers by impressed fathers. He earned a few mates during his time on the island and fathered a number of children, though he was always too busy to deal with them on any sort of personal level.

The humans and mulocs came not long after his father passed away of old age. He and many other trolls fought off each of the intruders with a burning hatred for their acts. His two maces were responsible for many crushed human skulls and broken murlocs. The day-by-day fighting grew tiresome on his aging body so when the orcs showed up and were ready to offer aid, he had nothing to say against it. Soon the tables were turned and the humans were defeated.

The victory for the defeat was not celebrated for long, for the minions of the Sea Witch took Thrall, Sen’jin and many others. Fearing the worst, Flak paces around, slamming his maces into any human or murloc that remained in sight. When there were none around, the trees felt his fury. The time was a furious blur for him and he cannot recall the amount of time that passed before a cheer went up from the village. The leader known as Thrall had escaped, but they were then informed that Sen’jin was unable to do so and was sacrificed. Vol’jin, Sen’jin’s son, took over then and pledged his people to the Horde. Flak and many others helped fend off the attacks from the murlocs until the ships set sail to the land of Kalimdor.

After the orcs found their home in Durotar, Flak and his fellow trolls set up their home on the Echo Isles. This time was short-lived as humans came and forced the trolls to leave their new home. Flak was there, charging with the green-skins as they reclaimed the island and once more settled upon it. Fate would not be kind to his people as shortly after, Zalazane took over the island enslaved many of the inhabitants. This time the trolls built a new village, named after their old and honored leader, Sen’jin.

Flak once more hefted up his weapons to fight with the Horde in Northrend to help end the scourge threat, though he left before the Lich King met his end. Now the old troll wanders around in his battered armor, enjoying a good fight every now and then. He waits for an offensive to be set in order to once more reclaim Echo Isle so that his people may settle on their home once again.

He may be old, but he still has a spark left in him.