Huato

Information

Player: Krilari

Character Full Name: Huato Trailblazer

Character In-Game Name: Huato

Nickname(s): Trailblazer, Pathbreaker, Greed.

Association(s): Grimtotem Clan (Roughly)

Race: Tauren

Class: Dark Shaman

Age: 29

Sex: Male

Hair: A mane of twisted and torn strands of black, untended fur.

Eyes: Amber

Weight: 534 Lbs

Height: 8’5”

Appearance

A child of the Grimtotem Clan, Huato bears all of the gifts of one naturally born. His fur forms a forest of dark, tangle strands which are only interrupted by tattoos of dark red that run along his form. Such tattoos tell of his previous position in his clan before his personal schism with his kin. Covering these layers are raiment of a somewhat dark nature, complementing his hulking and foreboding figure.

His chest remains bare to the elements fury, the rest of his form coated in woven leathers and cloths. In each first curls worn gloves composed of chain mail, witch occasionally find themselves coated in talons of molten rock, brought on by the Tauren’s dark powers.

Personality

Young and twisted, the Dark Shaman finds himself in a perpetual search for power, lusting after every artifact he can come to augment himself with. With such a state of mind comes a perpetual bloodlust for all of those who dare stand in the way to his rise to glory. There is no compassion to be had in the bull’s jaded state of mind, instead there is only an opinion of three natures: Those in his way, those not, and those who seek to aid him. It is to the latter that he shows what could possibly be mistaken as ‘kinship’

When it comes to terms of other races, there is no mind as to Alliance or Horde, but simply to friend or foe. You are either in his way, or aiding him along.

History

Born in the beating heat of the Barrens, Huato was conceived from a middle-aged family, who had feared for many years before that they would be cursed to never bear a son. So when his birth had come along, it was met with much praise not just by family, but by friends and the community as a whole. Even as an infant there was much promise to be seen in the child, his form carrying black fur that challenged even his kin, whose had been bleached by the beating sun.

For the most of his youth, life was a simple cycle. Set up camp in a new area, make home and friends there, and then as the resources ran dry they would repeat the cycle. Even so, he was given little time to call his own, as nearly as soon as he could stand on his own hooves and mutter his own words, Huato was gifted a set of wooden fighting claws, crafted much in the same fashion of his father’s. From there on out, his form would too grown bleached as he spent every day from dawn to dusk in the amber fields of The Barrens, seeking tutelage from his father. If any lesson stuck in his mind from his father it would be one:

Give your enemies no mercy.

In turn his mother imparted many more lessons than his father ever could. While anger and furiocity defined his father’s movements, his mother was far more a kinder woman, appealing to the tenderness of the young boy’s heart. Daily she spoke of elements, of spirits, of men and women of legend that led their clans with great wisdom imparted to them by their ancestors. From these lesions brought by his mother, Huato would come to tread the path of the Shaman, following in his mother’s footsteps.

With his parents lesions combined, by the age of eighteen, Huato had grown into a muscular bull of an adult, and hence properly recognized as an adult and a fledgling shaman amongst his people.

The centaur, vicious creatures that rivaled the Tauren, lashed out at the encampments, destroying all they could and imprisoning others to work their mines and fields. This all seemed but a dream, though as he pressed into his nineteenth year, it soon became a reality. The attacks were swift and vicious, huts burned, livestock slain, women and children all alike mercilessly slain in their sleep. It had only been by the sounds of his father’s rage that awoke the sleeping bull, and instantly he awoke to a living hell. All around, flames began to swallow and choke his form. Desperately he went about, seeking his mother only to find her form being dragged away by the fleeing raiders. He soon gave chase, though only to find himself soon meeting the same fate.

Hours later he awoke from his concussion, head pounding in pain as he stirred from the amber grass. All about he could see, the suffering and torment of his people. He had found his dreams become lucid, just before his very eyes.

For months he would work his fingers to the bones, swinging pickaxes to collect useless lumps of coal or tin while unguarded from the scorching heat. At night he would take refuge within the provided tents, fairing only a few hours of rest before being put back to work. In the following weeks he sought what elders remained, consulting them and their wisdom with the spirits, attempting to revive the hope he once held in his heart, wishing to hear the wisdom of the spirits he once heard… yet their voices were silent. The spirits spoke only in cryptic and frustrating phrases that were still much too confusing to the young bull. In a frustrated curse he forsake the spirits and their ways of communicating, instead spending what time he could to brood in anger and his own thoughts.

When freedom arose by the orc’s hand, he had not budged from his opinion. He only dropped his pick and trekked off into the night of the barrens, muttering yet another curse to the orcs and their allies before he disappeared into the forests of Stonetalon Mountain… and there his fate would come to be.

With anger and frustration constantly boiling in his mind, it did not take long for the bull to lash out against the spirits and elements that he once called friends and allies. One by one he would come to face the elementals that were once praised, one by one destroying their bindings and instead taking them for his own. As he gathered the bracers of the four elementals, he performed his dark rituals in the shadows of the night, binding the spirits one by one to his will.

In recent years his greed had only grown more. Where the spirits would not give, he has taken, much the same where others had not provided him with a means of growing in power, he much well looks to take instead. Now he treks the land, his power fueled by an unending greed.

Skills and Abilities

Darkbinding – Being a Dark Shaman, Huato does not call but instead demands. He has mastered the form of capturing the elemental spirits, twisting and corrupting them to his own personal will. Such leaves him to be the target of normal shaman, who hear the cries of the elements so closely.