Garreth

Information

Player: Scar

Character Full Name: Garreth Delgado Cortez

Character In-Game Name: Garreth

Nickname(s): ‘Cortez’

Association(s): Northgate Rebellion (former) Gilneas, Grand Alliance.

Race: Worgen

Class: Druid

Age: 27

Sex: Male

Hair: Black

Eyes: Bright Green (Human and Worgen)

Weight: 182 lb (Human) 243 lb (Worgen)

Height: 6’2 (Human) 7’8 (Worgen)

Appearence

Usual Garments/Armor: Garreth’s usual attire is a brown leather composed set made by a leatherworker he met in Darnassus, and he is rarely seen without it even while relaxing, but its not extraordinary to see him without his shoulderpads while at safety. This apparel seems to have numerous markings of a ram’s horns carved as an embellishment over belt and pauldrons alike.

Other: Cortez is scarcely seen without a red silk scarf around his neck and a crimson bandana wrapped tightly around his forehead, even while isolated of the public.

Personality

Alignment: Lawful Neutral

Garreth is far from a calm and gentle druid in general. His personality is playfully cocky with almost anybody who tries him, accepting any challenges from brawl to drink contest and that from all the species of the Alliance -and-, these usually neutral, such as goblins, even the ones he met minutes ago. His charisma with these of his level of wealth, such as farmers is uncommon and his pleasure when not defending nature and helping these in need is to drink mead, feast, and jest,

A grin flashes so very repetitively on his denture, but his smile is honest for these who earn it and he is infrequently a liar, unable to do so by rapidly betraying himself with abrupt laughs or the attempt to mask a wide smirk.

His dislike is chiefly regular against highborn men and women, paladins often classify as such too unless his companionship is earned.

Able to remain fair-minded and nonbelligerent with most other races, his true hate belongs to the Horde and its followers, more specifically these that fight for it, including any sort of combatant.

History

Garreth Delgado Cortez was engendered in Gilneas before the Wall, his father an humble lumberjack known as Thomas Gavinth and a young harvest-witch by the name of Sara Cortez his mother, the couple not remaining for long together, the meeting was merely a night of delight on both sides, but far from what men or women would call love.

Given birth amongst a community of keeper of the old ways before its threatening and the group dispersing years later with no mild surprise, some of them tarried as friends while others completely vanished understandably, for at the time the practitioners of such magic were considered as occult individuals and labeled as cultists.

The cottage of Sara Cortez given as an heritage by her long deceased procreator was not far from the village of Duskhaven, and there she taught her son in whatever educations she could grant him. There she resided alone primarily, not counting her few companions that relinquished moments with her around a cup of tea, females and males alike. Her son was incredibly lonesome and it was only at the age of twelve, when he discovered the streets of the small township with one of his mother’s friend’s daughter, that he bloomed as a social individual.

He was already muscular and bulky for his age, with a reasonable height. There was little to do at the farm if to chop wood, carry crates to the market place for his dear mom and other heavy duties. And his playtime was composed of climbing trees, running, and he explored seldom activities that didn’t need his body to be developed intermediately at least. He spent four hours with Sara every two days to be taught the philosophy of his parent, and later in the future also cultivate of his dear’s lineage as a harvest-witch which he had bequeathed.

Nonetheless his interludes in his assignments and studies changed when he arrived in the village. He quickly became the ‘member’ of a band of kids which had fun doing illegal exploits ranging from climbing on the stables to stealing apples, but the minor became major over the years, and so did Delgado’s experience. He now knew some of his mother’s talents and he also possessed agility and strength from his escapes which he thought secret from his progenitor, with no intentions to worry her. In truth she knew, and was happy that her offspring was not as lonely as she had been in her past.

It very much changed when his shenanigans were now to hang around the taverns at his sixteen years old, starting bar brawls, brewing fights, drinking mead, and more importantly slipping into houses of farmers at night via windows to see their very content adolescent girls. His ‘reputation with the ladies’ quickly became a curse when he was punished heavily after having been caught by a comrade of his cherished mom which told her and promised not to report him to the village watchmen if he stopped, which he was planning to.

He never returned from his last escape. His friends and him had been wandering in the direction of Stormglen and they had found a rebel officer, a man of the Northgate Rebels. He swiftly recruited them using of their desires for adventure and thrill, and to run away from a too peaceful village which already knew their ill deeds too well; Garreth hadn’t been the only one to be threatened of jail time.

While they had been profiting a time of liberty in Duskhaven the Civil War had been raging across the country, and the companions' fathers had not returned while the settlement had been safe. Few blamed the rebels and a good part of them instead pointed their fingers at the royals, and Delgado was one of them. They didn’t hesitate to join the rebels after a quick council with the officer which told them not to warn their families so that they do not worry, which in truth he meant in his thoughts ‘to not forbid them to bet their lives’ instead.

Garreth’s true reasons of his employ was a certain dislike for the nobles who had been prancing around ‘his’ hamlet one day, more specifically the son of a wealthy baron who had been parading around showing off his cape. He had been threatened with death by the sword by that rival. He remained as stubborn as a mule, blocking the way to the inn, most simply because said titled personage was not asking politely for him to step away from the entrance. There was that.

And then there was also his thoughts that he was only bothering his admired parent, and that he was of no use to her, often bringing bad rumors and guards to her house’s front. He didn’t want to leave forever, simply accomplish something like help to win a war or do something useful to the community.

Each to their own groups, Garreth had been assigned to the first aid medics of the rebellion thanks to his minor talents in the magic of the harvest-witches, which not many of Crowley’s followers declined despite their superstitions when they were exposed to the brink of death after a battle.

Time passed was swiftly and the only events that happened in the meantime had been Cortez’s new mastery in the wielding of the bearded axe for combat when required, and his healing prowess had improved grandly. He also killed his first men in a skirmish that had gone horribly wrong. He was wondering what his mother could’ve been thinking at the time, whether he was a murderer, an fool? Whether she thought he was dead, or worse at the present?

Darius’s capture had been a surprise to all, and a great disappointment too. Those that survived the civil war returned to their families, some luckier than others. And Garreth tried to do the same, but his rage had thundered and his tears had flowed when he went to where his mother’s cottage had been, and found only a ruin. No trace of his forebearer, nor of what had happened, but he didn’t care, rebels or royals. He couldn’t mourn very long, ere his past, only the future was ahead.

His new path of living was to spend his time in an inn in Stormglen, which he paid by helping farmers with labor, but his indicative was his affinity with nature and talents to help those that had been wounded, some even mortally, by venom, wolves, or others. He quickly became an unofficial healer of the township beloved and protected by many.

The rest is a blur of events that got him bitten in trying to tend to a worgen curse afflicted villager. Soon both he and the farmer had metamorphosed into the beasts that were ravaging Gilneas in the first place.

He, alike many ferals, wandered the woods, until his ex-leader and his elven allies captured him, with the identical fate as to many others of his wild kin in the Blackwald. He was soothed by being taken to Tal’doren, and then regained sanity and humanity thanks to the wells which brought balance between animal and humanoid thoughts. He there also discovered that his powers as a harvest-witch had been doubled, and that the elven counterpart of his renovating art were known as 'druids'.

He did his best to continue to serve Darius, holding no grudge for the rebellion’s ending his mother's demise. Even now, he didn't know what had really transpired. Nor did he take into mislike the king, Genn Greymane. In truth, it was finding out that even he, their lordship, had been caught in the grasp of this strange disease that his respect was earned.

As a healer helping the men of Gilneas, cursed or not, he partook in the battle for the capital city and then only a short amount of time later on, the defense of Keel Harbor against the orcish invaders and the Forsaken marauders.

Soon a refugee in Darnassus after the events that led to abandoning Gilneas, he expeditiously got in a bond of friendship with an elf woman who was a leatherworker, and who gave outfitted him with armor of her own creation for his hopes of travel to discover a brand new Azeroth. She also connected him with a of blacksmith from Stormwind who was passing through Teldrassil, and met his demand, a bearded axe, with a comment about his fine taste for weaponry.

He then wandered off to Ashenvale first, deciding that this was his first unofficial pilgrimage to discover his new relations with the forests, and there he met a group of mercenaries who fought for the Alliance. He discovered that even becoming the creature he now was and being able to control nature, his personality hadn’t much altered, still a very friendly person with desires to drink and laugh. They called him a druid, and didn’t want to listen to his explanations when he tried to analyze both and point the differences between druids and harvest-witches, and thus the night became quite the comedy. He then left early in the morning, bidding farewell to the fighters that were stopping at Maestra’s Post while he continued to Astranaar, following the instructions of a night elf sentinel patrolling the roads.

Druid, harvest-witch, it didn’t matter to him anyhow, both seemed to be the exact same individuals or almost, with the kaldorei's version being more powerful. He was convinced he could change that, and also persuaded that his new goal in life was to explore a brand new Azeroth.

Skills and Abilities

Garreth is a healer by trade and his talents with the restoration spells taught by both harvest-witches and druids of the night elves are no secrets to his trade, and even if that’s not enough, a first aid kit is often enough to save someone from an immediate death.

His proficiency of shapeshifting is a poor sight to behold for truth, but his athletic body accompanied with his skills in the wielding of a bearded axe, unarmed combat, and well, using whatever items is at his disposal to bash the heads in of his enemies make him a tough fighter, even for someone focused in tending to allies.