Kevon

Information

Player: Uguu

Character Full Name: Kevon Talston

Character In-Game Name: Kevon

Nickname(s): -

Association(s): The Alliance, The Ebon Blade

Race: Human

Class: Death Knight

Age: 52

Sex: Male

Hair: Graying out and balding in his age, his beard is usually unkempt.

Eyes: Runic blue, glowing

Weight: 238 LBs

Height: 6'0"

Appearance

Almost always seen in a full suit of Cobalt plated armor, spikes adorning the helmet and shoulderpads. The tabard of the Ebon Blade is always worn across the armor, only missing if it's too damaged to wear. There is a metal skull that has been welded into the forehead of the helmet. A dark gray/brown cape is draped behind him, rather simple.

Other: A long, two handed blackened sword strapped to his back, clearly runed along the blade. His flesh is clearly decaying in death, holes and tears dot the knight's body as well as a horrid odor. His body itself, beyond the blackened color, is riddled with scars and recent wounds.

Personality

Alignment: Lawful Neutral

Dedicated and loyal to a fault, Kevon has a firm belief in following the orders of his commanding officers, even if these seem asinine or outright suicidal. While he would unquestionly take the order to do so, he has a distaste for sneaking around and using stealth in general. Kicking in the front door and just butchering everyone, works just as well in his opinon. Though racist up one side and down the other against most Horde, he regards other Knights as brothers in arms and never pays any mind to what race they may be. Even when the man was still alive and kicking, Kevon held comtempt for the 'Light' and its users in general. This mostly came from, hypocritically, his belief that they are unquestioning zealots that blindly follow the Light, as he does with his own orders. While he often tries to remain respectful and polite, he sometimes just simply fails to do so. Always respectful to a fallen enemy, and would gladly face off against someone to prevent them from damaging or otherwise disrespecting the body. Bears an utter and absolute hatred for warlocks. His respect, though, does tend to drop when dealing with the living.

History

Born to a rather poor family, having their home in the Redridge mountains, Kevon grew up with little more than hand-me downs and tattered clothing to wear. Between the rough housing with his brothers, or the odd drunken fit from his father, the boy became no stranger to violence or how to use it to his advantage. For a few years, Kevon would often go out during the day to cause trouble around the area, kicking over trash bins and stealing things with reckless abandon. Kevon learned the value, and strain, of hard work as he was often caught trying to steal things, usually being left to the 'victims' as a worker to be used for a day or so to repay the damages. It would only take a year of constant working to make amends for his thefts before Kevon decided to just get a normal job, considering he was doing hard work, and earn some money to spend. Though his age prevented him from finding much in the way of a job, he managed to scrape together small change as he helped people get things from stores, and sometimes babysitting. The years dragged by rather boringly as there was never anything of serious interest to hold his attention, merely bouncing between jobs and trying to keep food for the family. Upon reaching a better age for it, the boy began taking more proper jobs of painting houses and chopping timber for the yards. This continued for some years, untill fate decided to deal out the next hand.

The boy, as well as his other brothers, were put to grief over their mother as she finally gave out to an illness and passed away, the father faring rather poorly as he began drinking more and more in his off time. Kevon handled this matter the same way he'd handled most things, he just found someone and beat them untill he felt better about it. He would often come home, covered with bruises, with an officer or a larger man with a lovely story to tell and an apology to give. Each time, the father responded by sending them off while he gave out whatever punishment he saw fit at the time, usually voicing his utter hate for the miltary, police and figures of power in general. Finally having enough of this life, and to spite his father in the worst way he could think, Kevon left home to sign on with the Alliance miltary and started his training to become an infantryman in the army. Life became, physically, harder on the man as the drill instructors worked day and night to break down the recruits and build them back up as ruthless, brutal killing machines to be led in battle. Even with these new hardships, Kevon just kept at it, outright refusing to admit defeat and call back to his father after all that was said.

As the years passed, not quickly enough for the man, the first war had began. News of the orcs and their merciless assault gave Kevon some hope to put his hard earned skill of arms to the test as him and many other soldiers marched off the face the enemy on the field of battle. Moving from one location to the next, taking order after order from his commanding officers, the man continued near tirelessly through the war against the orcs as he collected a fair number of small scars from the wounds he'd taken. News of the sacking of Stormwind weighed heavily on the man as a number of his friends had been cut down during the siege, pushing on towards the second war with renewed vigor as his drive for vengeance had him thrown back after the orcs with a bloodlust alongside the rest of his allies. During the second war the orcs, Kevon had been laid out from a wound and into a field hospital, having taken a nice spear through his arm. He would, much to his chagrin, spend the remainder of the war in a bed with some... not-so lovely nurses tending to him. While his wound healed over nicely, it was of little concern to him as he took a liking to one of the younger nurses, the woman returning the feelings over time as they began to see each other more and more often. With the war over and the orcs in camps, him and his girlfriend of sorts began to think things were looking up for in their lives. Yeah. Fate decided it was time for another hand to be dealt.

Much to Kevon's surprise, his elder brother had also joined in for the war effort, not more than a few months after he had. The two brothers met back up again during the leave time and caught up with each other, sharing stories and comparing scars with some beers and laughs as they bonded once more since they had last met. Though the man had built up a great respect for the chain of command, oweing -some- thanks to his father's hate for it, his brother did not share the same feelings and openly opposed most commands and officers that gave them on more than one day at a time. Kevon tried to play this off, figuring that he would likely be dismissed from service at this rate and the problem would resolve itself. His relationship with his girlfriend, Sarah, continued along rather happily for some time before the third war would begin. The couple spent most of their off times with each other and, sometimes, with his brother over beers and stories from the first war and their days in training. The day would come, however, when the man decided it was time to spring an important question that for some now had his stomach turning into itself. Kevon had decided it was finally time to ask Sarah's hand in marriage, prepared to take whatever answer she would give as he marched his way along the street and towards her home.

Fate returned for a third round of cards, aces were high. Kevon closed distance with the house as he marched proudly up to the door, stopping for a moment as movement in the window had caught his eye. It became dreadfully clear to the man as he gazed into the window, that he'd drew a pair of Joker cards, Sarah and his brother were laid out on the floor in the room before him. He watched them for a moment as their clothes were strewn across the floor, his stomach twisting over as he felt like he was going to throw up. He fell over from the window as he got to his feet, dropping the wedding band as he bolted off down the street with as much haste as his legs would allow. He ran for what seemed like hours untill his legs finally buckled out from under him and sent him to the ground, he rolled over for a moment and he pressed his back against a worn brick wall and stared out into the empty street. He barely had time to catch his breath before he lurched over and broke out into tearful sobs, uncaring to the people on the street that took stares as he let it all out. When he finally managed to calm himself, with the kind aid of a few friends that stumbled upon him, his every thought screamed for him to go back and kick the door in. In the end, he resolved to just go drinking with his friends, hoping to move on from this so he could just get back to work. Just as the world couldn't seem to get any darker, the Scourge began their deathly march and started the third war.

Kevon took everything he knew from the past two wars, strapped his armor on and marched out to the fields alongside so many other men. Orcs, trolls and even the odd gnoll or murloc, none of these had prepared him for the utter horror he'd face when he met the undead on the battlefield. The ghoul didn't feel the sting of his sword as it bit into the creature's flesh, the orcs bellowing warcries paled in comparison to the gut wrenching feeling of facing down the reanimated remains of a fallen comrade. Regardless to this, Kevon pressed onwards against the undead and followed his orders without question, doing a fine job at taking his mind off of Sarah and his damned brother. After a rather unknown time of continued fighting, the man faced what he would later consider to be among the hardest things he'd ever have to take part in. The purging of Strathholme weighed heavily on the man as he carried out the order and marched into the city with sword in hand, cutting down anyone he found as the captains dished out commands as the city burned. For the first time in his entire career, Kevon had actually given thought to question an order, purging an entire city like this weighing down on him like a castle upon his shoulders. He pressed onwards, none the less. Fate had one last hand to deal out.

The war brought the weathered man to Northrend, fighting ever still against the might of the Scourge, as well as the Horde. Between the undead swarms and the orcish grunts, Kevon found little in the way of rest as he continued to fight and fight and fight some more. Though he often owed his life to a well timed showing of a priest and his healing magic, he began to hate them for their constant preaching and shouts about the Light. Nearing a point where he would knock one cold with a hard punch, he found his life turned around as he took a blow and fell to the ground. His vision began to blur as everything faded away from him as his life finally drained from the world. His consciousness came back to him as he found himself locked in place, armored from head to toe with a long blade in hand as he remained firm in line with many others alike him. Despite his struggles to take control over his body, all efforts were ultimately in vain as he watched himself march against the Scarlet crusaders. Wishing every moment that one of the soldiers, or even a farm girl, would just put him down already so he could stop doing this horrible thing. His wishes never came true as the slaughter continued, man fell just as did the woman beside him, mercy given to noone as the grass was stained with blood and death.

Just as he began to wonder if he'd go mad from it all, he suddenly snapped back into control of himself, dropping his sword for a moment as he quickly looked around himself. He cracked a sick grin as he snatched his sword up and rushed off with the other knights, his mind filled with thoughts of vengeance as the regrouped under Mograine's banner. With pride and the utmost dedication, Kevon bore the Ebon standard over his armor and across his chest. Carrying the thoughts of everyone he'd murdered under the Lich King's command, he marched on with the other knights through Northrend, cutting down everything that even looked remotely Scourge-like. Though he was more than glad to hear of Arthas' defeat, he was a little down for not having been able to play a bigger role in his demise. Regardless, he held his head up with pride as he cheered with his comrades and continued to serve the Ebon Blade with the same zeal he'd shown in service to the Alliance. His thoughts never returned to his lost love, or the perceived theft at the hands of his traitoress brother, as he followed his orders just as he always had. Fate has a funny way of shaping things, and as for Kevon? Well, he continues serving the Blade to this day, always a thought as for what the day may hold.