Jumbwan

Information

Player: Reese777

Character Full Name: Jum'bwan

Character In-Game Name: Jumbwan

Nicknames: Bubba

Association(s): The Horde, Revantusk Tribe

Race: Forest Troll

Class: Warrior

Age: 25

Sex: Male

Weight: 8'4

Height: 448 lbs.

Appearance

Jum'bwan is, quite frankly, the unholy combination of an Orc and a Troll. He has muscles on his muscles' muscles and stands a good eight foot four hunched over on a good day, not counting his hair. His sheer size is, of course, accentuated by his thundering voice, strong as the Earth beneath his feet. He is also riddled with the scars of battles or hunts long past, some of which make him look more dashing, some of which do far less. But beauty is in the eye of the beholder, of course. His face is more than usually painted, and his eyes are yellow. He tends to wear his bright green hair as a mohawk, saying that it looks more like a mane that way.

He proudly states, when someone asks, that he made all of his clothes himself. His armor is typically wooden, hacked off from the trees of the forest and dyed with the natural dyes of flowers. He similarly wears leathers under that to keep chafing to a minimum. Also, because he's a tad vain, he will most likely be coated in the skins of his latest hunt, generally as a cloak but some sort of hat may be made, as well. He has acquired these skins by use of a bundle of six throwing spears, equally as hand made as his other equipment.

Personality

Jum’bwan is an interesting chap, to say the least.

He has no sense of survival whatsoever. You’ll often catch him beating a full grown hydra to death with his bare hands, merely because he saw it minding its own business. That’s not to say he succumbs to any sort of feral instinct at all. He’s bloodthirsty enough, at the best and worst of times, but he doesn’t have the mindless rage that is usually associated with one who uses his fists. To him, his fists are the weapons he was born with, and as such, are his most valuable weapon.

He is also a remarkably trusting person. To him, but for the old prejudices of Blood Elves and Human most Forest Trolls have, everyone is inherently awesome. He will go out of his way to be friends with someone, even if they publicly express their dislike for him. He just doesn’t see himself as one who can’t be gotten along with. Thus he personally makes is a prerogative to be friendly to most of all races.

His prime reason for not having animosity towards other races is because A: History bores him. As it is, he only hates Blood Elves and Humans because of what was beaten into him at youth. He will never fully trust either. And B: Because he enjoys an animal’s company more. Jum’bwan has a thing for animals. To befriend one means you have a friend who will never let you down. To slay one means you are a true warrior. To him, animals are far better than any humanoid by nature of their animalistic traits, such as claws, a better nose, fangs, etc. This is also why he likes Tauren more than other races, aside from his admiring of their sense of honor.

He himself also has a fierce sense of honor. He will never kill a beast without paying some form of homage to it, even if it is but a small gesture of respect. This also goes for any sort of humanoid. Even demons. Not usually because of their moral compass, but because they were an opponent worthy of being fought and conquered. Everyone is worthy, or has the capacity, to be fought. He even tolerates those who don’t like fighting. He just can’t stand cowards, or those who don’t fight because they are afraid. Cowards sicken him.

Alignment: Chaotic Good

Skills and Abilities

Nothing outside of a standard Warrior, only he really only uses his fists short range.

History

Jum’bwan was born the son of Juukur’fon and Neyrai’ke, though Juukur’fon had a total of eight other mates. He was neither the oldest nor the youngest of his various siblings and half-siblings, twenty-three in number, and as one could imagine never stood out considerably among the plethora of other children that needed taking care of. Save for his birth…

See, Jum’bwan was a very swarthy baby, as was previously mentioned. He made it hell coming out, and they were truthfully glad to be rid of him. So they put him in a hand woven crib-basket and left him alone for a bit. And in their absence, a nice, hungry little (well, not “little” little) forest spider crawled up to the crib and spied a tasty little babe. His parents would return to the corpse of that spider. He had beaten it to death with his little baby-fists.

Another fun fact about Jum’bwan’s birth, his name isn’t actually Jum’bwan. Neyrai’ke actually named him Bubba, another name some call him, due to his size upon birth, and, indeed, the strain he put on Neyrai’ke during birth. Juukur’fon didn’t seen this as a valid name to give to a child, and thus he was given the name Jum’bwan, who was, interestingly enough, Jum’bwan’s Great Uncle’s name, a mighty Forest Troll warrior in his prime.

In his youth fed story after story of the evil of the Blood Elves and Humans, how they needed to be wiped from Azeroth and never spoken of again. How they were traitors, defilers, etc. etc. Being little more than a child at the time, he grew to believe this to be the truth, and he would curse the Blood Elves every time he went to bed and damn the Humans every time he woke up. Contrarily, to all Forest Trolls the infamous Zul'jin is a hero, so he was also fed stories of Zul’jin’s prowess and brilliance, and at every meal he would praise Zul’jin’s immense awesomeness. This developed into admiration for every race to have participated in the Second War, such as Orcs, which grew into a general liking of every race out there, save for those he damned.

His childhood was otherwise much like any other Troll Youths. He would brawl and scuffle with the other toddlers like any other good boy, and he’d beat the crap out of them, too. Jum’bwan just liked animals more. More than once would villagers catch him chasing after a terrified fox with an expression of both joy and determination on his face. He would often pester the hunters of his tribe on how to take down beasts of various size, strength, and ability. They answered his questions politely, maybe a little amused, but most of the men were away doing what he desired information about, so information was sparse.

As he grew, this love for animals grew into a borderline obsession. With such a lack of information, he’d go out each day, forsaking the company of his Trollish peers to go learn to hunt on his own. Every day it was learning of a new animal, studying that animal, and then going out to kill that animal. This went on for a while, but never lasted. There just weren’t enough diverse species in the wild to hunt down and kill. Not to mention the Second War had come to a close, and the Revantusks were not appreciated for keeping their loyalties clear. Thus, Jum’bwan was further kept busy by attacks from his own kind. This was why he fully supported the decision to move the tribe to a safer location. It was getting time to himself and making sure his tribe was safe. Two birds. One stone.

Once his tribe was relatively safe, he set out for adventure! Whether it was wrestling Azsharan hippogryphs as though part of a demonic rodeo from Hell, stomping on the heads of Crocolisks in Dustwallow, prying apart a Silithid’s mandibles in Silithus (and making a lovely bundle of spears from their stingers), and even hunting a mighty Devilsaur in Un’Goro Crater, obviously how he met the love of his life.

He had been in Un’Goro for some time, as there was more than an abundance of life that needed honorable slaying there. His true prize, however, was the mighty Devilsaur. Of course, every Devilsaur he’d met so far more or less kicked his tuckus. This only made him angry, not with them, but at himself, because he had to constantly retreat if he wanted to keep his life. He viewed this as cowardly, and thus never lost his tenacity. Mamma T’kelah was the sixth one he tried to bring down, and the only one he succeeded with. It was quite the fight, too. Jum’bwan had to use every ounce of his speed, strength, and willpower. It ended when he got her in the back of the leg, which took her right down. But as he came up to put the final, fatal spear in her neck, he looked into her eyes and saw fear. Ordinarily, he’d have called this cowardice, but she had not been a coward in the fight. Frankly, she had been one of the greatest hunts he had accomplished in bringing down. For once in his life, he felt pity. Thus, he didn’t kill her. Instead, he began to nurse her back to health, feeding her meat from other kills and protecting her. He grew quite attached to that Devilsaur, and still tries to see her every one and a while, when he can.