Rotholan

Information

Player: Xemnasking

Character Full Name: Rotholan Lusus Seymour

Character In-Game Name: Rotholan

Nickname(s): Roth

Association(s): Ebon Blade (Though rather distant since Arthas' oh so timely death,) Undercity

Race: Forsaken/Undead

Class: Death Knight

Age: 29 at death

Sex: Male

Hair: Dark violet

Eyes: Runic Blue

Weight: 88kg

Height: 175cm

Appearance

He's a few inches shorter than your average forsaken. He has violet hair, and bones poking out of all of his limbs. To add onto that, his spine is hunched over in the front, much like an old man. His face looks angry, and the skin on his lower jaw has all come off.

Usual Garments/Armor: He has dark armor, with a violet hue if you inspect it closely. And two brutish looking swords, that he has carved runes into that glow an unholy green. These are his rune-blades.

Personality

Rotholan acts classy and as gentlemanly as he can, when he is in a social situation. When he is more with himself or people who believe they know him, he is still quite the same, but with more of a bitter and satirical flare. Rotholan often uses words that people wouldn't typically use to describe things, such as he would describe tyranny as delicious, or violence as adorable or cute. Rotholan loathes anything that reminds him of his family- so that means: nobles; tailors; knights; or ugly professors. And chances are, he secretly loathes you too. Rotholan, of course, won't make his displeasure or distaste entirely easy to spot, as almost everything he says is baked in an icy layer of sarcasm. He'll probably be extra polite to you if he hates you, going so far as to open a seat for you, or offer to buy a drink.

Rotholan can also be somewhat perverted, not towards other undead though, he finds them unattractive in almost every way. Almost all the time towards human females, or perhaps the odd High or Blood Elf if she meets his standards of physical attraction. If he likes you in particular, he'll probably find a way to fight in front of you. He does love to fight, violence and all things unholy are his specialty.

History

Rotholan was born about five years before the first war, in a fairly wealthy household with somewhat noble blood. His family wasn't really important, nor did they have much of an influence; but they were proud none-the-less. Rotholan learned basic arithmetic and the like from his uncle; who was somewhat of an oddball. Rotholan wasn't terribly intelligent, but was able to manipulate his articulation and vocabulary to make himself appear as so. Rotholan was the youngest child in the family- to a brother and a sister. His father practiced swordplay as somewhat of a sport, and his elder brother trained alongside him, whilst his sister learned the magnificent art of sewing from her mother. This left Rotholan to learn any skills he would need in life from his uncle, whom Roth was beginning to detest. His uncle had crooked teeth, frizzy red hair, a long face, and to top it off he had eyes that seemed to bulge right out of his head. Throughout their time together, one of the questions that would sneak its way into Roth's mind was how the genes of his family could produce such a grotesque thing, as Rotholan found his uncle quite difficult to look at.

Soon, Rotholan's life would enter a new stage, as the Second War came to Azeroth. Rotholan has knowledge of the first war, but his family wasn't really involved in it; however this time would be different. His father somehow managed to find himself shipped off in the army to fight the Orcish horde. His father wasn't really a war hero, and his stories were in fact greatly exaggerated. In reality his father only actually killed an Orc and a Troll, and just danced around pretending to swing his sword for the rest of the time. Despite this, he managed to keep the Orc and Troll's swords as heirlooms, primitive as they may have looked. Rotholan had suggested that they were hung above the fireplace, to his mother's dismay; but there they were hung. Rotholan, during the Second War, continued his studies. Though he was reaching adulthood partway through the war. Rotholan was harboring a loathing for his family: his sister, who was obsessed with her beauty and was incredibly shallow; his brother, whom he considered a barbarian; his Mother for the same reasons as her sister; and his Father, who never showed any pride in Rotholan, excepting when Rotholan had suggested where to hang the two swords. This lead Rotholan to believe that he should have learned how to decorate from his mother- no, that wouldn't have been 'manly' enough.

But when his mother fell ill, his father intended to stay by her side no matter what. Love has its price, and he fell ill as well. They both died, and this tore the family apart. Nobody wanted to talk to the uncle, however nice a man he was, and the siblings bickered over who got what. Rotholan's brother inherited the estate, and he let Roth and his sister live there with him. Roth's sister took control over the money, and with really nothing left- Rotholan inherited the furniture. Not a very organized system; but there indeed was no will to go by. Roth's sister and brother drove all the uncles and aunts out of the house, so it was split among the three.

In the end Rotholan really only cared about two things: his father's swords. Why did he only care about them? Simple, they were the tool to unleash his loathing on his siblings, in the only way he could think of. Murder. He planned it for a few months, but he ended up completely improvising; and that would be his downfall. He crept up on his brother whilst he was sleeping in the vineyards out back, and poured poison in his ear. He wasn't entirely sure if that would kill him, so just to be safe he stabbed him in the back. How fitting. His sister however was a different case, as twisted has he had made himself, boiling his brain in his wonderful pool of despising, he couldn't bring himself to kill a woman; it was too barbaric. He told her to flee, and she did; But she reported him to guards in Lordaeron. Rotholan wasn't too good at hiding from the law, and was apprehended quite swiftly- and sentenced to death.

It was in his final moments that Rotholan was hit by the severity of his actions, he was terrified at the executioner tied a noose around his neck and positioned him on the wooden trap door. He could feel his stomach sinking and his heart pounding and swelling up, to what he thought must have been the size of at least a watermelon. He realized he didn't want to die, but it was too late. Sweat poured down his face as he shook all over, and the trap door opened. The rope squeezed the air- the life out of him. He thrashed his legs about, gripped the robe about his neck in vain. And then everything went black.

Rotholan was stuck in a coffin, and put in a crypt underneath the house. Rotholan's body decayed slightly over the few years between his death and the third war. When the Scourge invaded the family estate was burned down, though Roth's sister managed to escape with some ships to Kalimdor, and until this day lives in Theramore. So Rotholan's coffin was smashed by a falling beam, and his skin was burnt by- well by fire. He was raised as a Death Knight, and slayed people mindlessly. Until the events of Light's hope chapel, when he and other Death Knights broke free of the Scourge. Rotholan wouldn't really fit in with humans again, what with the decay; so he was shuffled in with the Forsaken. When he found the wreckage of his former home, Rotholan found his father's old swords. Rotholan designated these as his rune-blades, to put a bit of irony in every slash. Rotholan dreamed of becoming an infamous nightmare. This was probably induced by years of neglect, and then being forced to slaughter hundreds of people mindlessly. But to satisfy his craving for violence, he focused on the Scourge. However, now that the Lich King is dead, he is trying to find some way to serve his need to kill.