Sareen

Sareen
Title	<Tinkerer>
Gender	Female
Race	Darkspear Troll
Class	Tinkerer
Age	29
Height	7'2"
Weight	242 lb
Eyes	Green
Hair	Red
Affilliation(s)	The Horde, The Darkspear Trolls,
Occupation	Tinkerer
Mentor(s)	Widget
Student(s)	None
Companion(s)	None
Alignment	None
Status	Alive

Information | Appearance | Personality | History | Skills and Abilities

Appearance

A somewhat slender woman, Sareen is commonly seen in a set of thick, aged, grease-stained and singed robes. There robes inelegantly flow over her person, covering up most of her curves and features. Whatever is visible shows signs of he day-to-day work. Her nimble fingers are dry and coarse, even scarred or burned in some places from projects gone awry. Her wounded visage mimics much of her hands, scarred and burned only slightly in some places. The main feature of this technological troll is her left eye, or lack there of. Slicing all the way up from her left cheek to her brow is a hideous scar that aligns with her empty left eye socket. Luckily most will not have to set their eyes on such a sigh as Sareen usually dawns a pair of thick work goggles.From the top of her head, waves of red, oily hair stream down across her face and down her neck. When she's put the work she'll take her hair and tie it back so that she can see uninterrupted.

Personality

Fierce independent, Sareen carves her own path through most situations. She refuses to be forced to another's will -especially a man's- and would revolt in one way or another. When it comes to public interaction she has no issues conversing with others, though most see her as some sort of social outcast given her odd appearance, attraction to mechanical squirrels, and overall quirky personality. With that said, the woman is very energetic at times, though at a moment's notice her energy could quickly convert into a lethargy.

When it comes to other races, Sareen couldn't care one way or another about alignment or faction, she simply cared about how they treated her and her alone. When in conflict she would obviusly support her own and thier allies, buut in any other case she cared the most about who was paying more.

History

Born on the year of the Dark Portal's opening, Sareen is the only child of a Darkspear Bat rider and his subservient mate. At the birth, her father was infuriated that his mate had been so weak as to bear him a daughter instead of a son. Yet, the only action that halted his fist was a single squealing laugh from the newborn baby.

Sareen's childhood was riddled with ups and downs. At times she would be praised by her father for performing tasks for him such as feeding his bat or shining his armor or fetching supplies. On the other hand she would play witness as her father went on to beat and belittle her mother. All in all, Sareen hid away from the harsh reality by ducking away into the jungles that surrounded their village. For hours on end she would go about, napping against trees and plucking fresh fruits from the abundant wild growth. While some days were spent relaxing, others were spent exploring as she went out in search of caves and coves to claim for herself. If she appeared at the right times there would be bats hanging about in their sleep, and she would jump and holler enthusiastically, attempting to play with them just like her father.

This period would only last so long though as Sareen grew into the ripe age of fifteen, the vicious murlocs began encroaching upon the troll's lands and therefore all of the young unenlisted were chained to the village's borders. Of course in her teenage years, Sareen was energetic, rambunctious, and wanted her way. So without much other choice she enlisted in the town's militia as a scout which was the only role available for a troll so young, and a woman at that. To an extent this work was the same as always did, hang about in the jungles and become completely aware of your surroundings. Though the only difference now is that Sareen was armed with a crude short sword as well as a coarse map with a stick of charcoal to mark key points.

On a particularly humid day, the young woman took refuge into a cave which she though was was rather shallow. With her back propped against the cold, soothing stone Sareen drifted off to a midday's reverie. Hours later she would awake, not to the golden rays of the setting sun and all it's glory, but to a pack of particularly angry murlocs. She couldn't understand a word of their garbled tongue, but from the gestures alone she could understand that they did not intend to keep her alive for very much longer. With a swift draw of her blade, she managed to knock their spears back far enough to the point where she could sprint for home. Though as she ran, Her attention was more set on the murlocs following her and now the one brandishing a spear in front of her. With a single thrust the spearhead collided with the left half of her face, driving all the way from her cheek into the eye socket and past it into her brow.

The blow was a stunning one to say the least, as Sareen was sent reeling back a step. Though with the thought of the raging murlocs still fresh in her mind, she used her blade to swiftly dismiss the foe before her and scrambled home. By the time she reached the village, it was the midst of night and she could see with her remaining eye the night watch going about with their torches. She attempted to approach one, but blacked out not ten feet from him.

Aided by the Night guard, Sareen was brought over to a hut belonging to a reclusive yet masterful Potions doctor known as Jen'do, who grudgingly accepted her. She was laid out on a bed and slowly healed by the doctor as the night drew late. Hours were spent concocting different potions and pastes that were used to slowly but surely mend her mangled visage.

As day broke, Sareen awoke to nothing to see but an empty hut, nothing to smell except the air of mixed herbs, nothing to hear save the bubbling of potions. Slowly she would stir from the bed, staggering her way over to a mirror in order to witness what had taken place. With a yelp it was revealed to her that her entire eye was missing, leaving a painful socket in it's place. All in all, what probably threw her off the most was the sticky, sickly green paste that was spread out over most of her face. With a sigh of defeat she turned about, making her way back in order to rest on the bed. Just as she sat down, a large crash as the hatched door was slammed against the wall. Jen'do entered toting a large crate in his arms, grumbling out in Zandali about how heavy the box was. Sareen watched on from the sidelines, her lips curling at the entertainment before the aged Potions Doctor set the crate onto the ground.

Without sparing her a glance he called out. “Are you awake, girl?" His attention settling on the table of bubbling and boiling potions.

Sareen nodded a few times, though noticed that would do her no good before she returned the call. “Yeah, I'm awake."

Jen'do plucked a potion into his pudgy fingers, shaking it a few times before setting it back down. “Good, good... How's your head?"

Sareen brought her own hand up, brushing a lock of red hair out of her eyes. “Hurts..."

The old troll cackles as he slowly lurked his way over to Sareen, vial in-hand. "No shit girl, whatever it was it took out your eye and then some! You're lucky to be alive."

Sareen shuddered slightly, not wholly enjoying the thought of dieing any time soon. Still she nodded in response, signaling her understanding of the situation. Finally Jen'do made his way to Sareen, crouching down just before her. “What's your name?"

“Sareen." She muttered, a bit fearful of the elder who she had just realized towered over her even when crouching.

On the other hand, he simply nodded in response, his wrinkled fingers coming about to offer the vial which was filled to the brim with a bright red liquid. Sareen took it with both hands, staring into the concoction with wonder before asking. “What is it..?"

The elder grumbled on for a short second before bringing a hand up to bonk her on the forehead. “It's fruit punch."

Sareen simply sat here, blinking a few times. “Ooooh."Without a moment's hesitation she uncorked the vial and brought the rim of thin glass up to her lips and tipped it in her favor. Within the blink of an eye there was not a single drop left of the sweet, sugar-laced liquid.

That night Sareen returned home to her two parents, neither of which seemed to have had much caring for her well-being nor the knowing that she was even hurt. Her mother was as submissive as ever and her father was ranting on about some sort of nonsense. Within the wee, Sareen had returned to her work as a scout, favoring it well over her home life.

The final year of her childhood was as uneventful as ever. Though she had formed a new routine of paying an occasional visit to Jen'do's hut which laid on the outskirts of town, well away from any of the common folk. Only in the dead of night would he go about, teaching Sareen how to identify key plants and even going as far as to showing her how to make the most basic of potions. All in all, Jen'do provided more of a family than any of her bloodline.

With her feet kicked up against a tree stump, Sareen snored and snorted in her sleep amongst the wild jungle. A sudden crash of thunder had interrupted her rest, bringing her attention back to reality. Amongst everything, she was more annoyed than afraid, knowing that she wouldn't be able to sleep amongst the storm she would actually have to go out and actually do her job. Swiftly she weaved her way out of the woods, making a game of attempting to keep her feet off of the ground as much as possible. Slowly but surely she would make her way to a tall cliff which overlooked the sea. From the cliff's edge her sighs were set far off, finding a myriad of boats approaching on the stormy horizon. With all the force she could muster, Sareen sprinted home, cutting through the fierce jungle only to find her village which was already alive with the news.

As the young troll scurried up atop a random hut, the first of a trio of ships crashed up on the beach. The secluded village looked on in awe, most of the inhabitants have never been witness to another race. Yet the village elder, Sen'jin, stood tall and unshaken simply awaiting for the ship to get their bearings.

From the first ship came a single orc, shorter in stature than most, but still caring an air like no other. He was green and muscled, clad in beaten black and gold armor. His fist was clenched about the hilt of a large hammer that laid dormant on his side. On each flank was a troop of soldiers, who themselves had a variety of weapons and tabards cladding their muscled features. Sen'jin approached first, grinning as he spoke in a tongue Sareen had never heard before, though the orcs seemed all too familiar with it. A small conversation struck between the two leaders, though no one was all too sure as to what they were saying. All in all it must of ended well because Sen'jin in all his wisdom ended up inviting the orcs to stay amongst them for the time being.

While she was unaware of it at the time, this would kick off the series of events that would leave her a changed woman, forever separated from the rest of traditional troll culture. Soon after the orcs appeared, the murloc attacks became more frequent, making it dangerous to go into the jungles at all. The few scouts that did venture out told of pink-skinned demons' that were covered in head to toe with metal armor. While the trolls had little knowledge of them, the orcs were more than familiar.

Skirmishes soon broke out between the three factions, though while the warriors went out to fight, Sareen stayed back figuring that the fighting was best left to those who actually knew how to wield a weapon. Instead she idles about the taverns and inns within the town, attempting to pick up whatever knowledge she could. Often she would hear words such as 'Zug-zug' and Dabou' and learn soon that those were signs of agreement in some respects. Not only would she slowly pick up their tongue, but she began looking into the other-wordly knowledge that they seemed to carry. At one point or another, she managed to meet with a rather young orc female. Even though they were able to share only a few words in each other's respective tongues, the orc did spare something that Sareen would come to hold dear. Sprawled out on this large scroll were letters of some distant language matched with the image of a creature she had only heard of recently; a Squirrel. Though this one was much more different than what she heard of. Real squirrels were small, cute and fuzzy. But this one was cold, metallic... yet it still held an essence of charm for the troll. She traded off what few coins she had for the scroll and began studying it day and night. Often she would go off to find an orc or two to to help her translate a few of the words.

Late at night, Sareen would sit about a small table in her room, piecing together small bits of bone and wood as well as mechanical pieces that she got from the orcs. Within a week of tiring, complicated work, Sareen made her very first mechanical squirrel. It did not do much aside from sit and stand, maybe sputter about on occasion. But it worked, and that's what she was proud of the most.

Not a few days later, tragedy would strike as the murloc invaders would make their final assault upon the troll's town. They sacked the huts, burned down buildings and towers, killed women children and men alike, and then went to take their leader as well as the orcs as captives. In the aftermath of destruction, Sareen wax left alive with nothing more than burn wounds from collapsing rubble that was smoldering hot. Though while she survived, neither her mother were to be seen. Not a corpse, not a spec of ash. Her father's best pet riding bat was long gone along with the rest of them. She was left entirely alone.

The young woman clutched to the one thing that survived the blaze, the one coil that held her sanity to the mortal world, her pet squirrel. Days later the orc and troll war party would return, greeted as heroes, though they would bring only grim news. Sen'jin had been sacrificed to the sea witch, killed in a horrible ritual. The trolls were left with Vol'jin, Sen'Jin's son to lead them.

With their town torched, their people in shambles and their home almost entirely invaded by murlocs, Vol'jin made the decision for the Darkspear tribe to come and join Thrall's Horde, the new Horde.

Sareen packed onto a small boat all on her own, with no parents to call her own, no blood. Not even Jen'do to make wise-ass jokes. She was packed in amongst orcs and trolls alike, though still she hid in her corner, taking scraps of whatever food she can while still holding her squirrel tight.

For weeks the boats drifted atop the clear blue sea, drifting and drifting until one day Sareen could hear the shouts of people, the toll of bells and the general sounds of a busy market place. While most boats landed upon the rigid lands of Durotar Sareen's particular ship had pulled into the Port of Ratchet first. Where most found a collection of goblin scum and villainy as well as disgusting humans and other alliance which traveled there, Sareen instead say the beauty of the wild bazaars that were all about, the marvelous use of technology, the possibility to carve her name into the world.

While most of the refugees stayed atop the ship and simply waited for the crew to leave port, Sareen and a small group of others stayed in the port town of Ratchet. With Her squirrel and scroll in-hand, Sareen rushed out to the tantalizing gems that laid strewn out on stalls which were cramped into every nook and cranny. Quickly she would notice her own appearance, which was less than appealing. She reeked of odors unimaginable and her clothes were nothing but rags. Using what coins she had to her name, Sareen went out and fetched herself a robe. The orange-brown robe was less than appealing and still well too large for her, but the goblin was offering it up for fifty copper and that was simply a deal she could not pass up. She would spend her afternoon out bathing in the sparkling waters out on the coast of the town before dressing herself up in her fresh robes. For continuous hours, Sareen would go about, wandering amongst the myriad of vendors and markets. When the beating son had come to set, Sareen sat on a street corner with her squirrel in-hand. She happily tossed it about and played with it, occasionally cranking it up and letting it patter about on it's own. From the shadows of the alleyways came a slowly creeping, greasy figure.

Plopped in front of her came a goblin dressed in a frivolous tuxedo and top hat with a smoldering cigar trapped between his lips. His accent was thick, almost as bad as hers as he slurred out his common with a hint of goblin lingo. While the words were hard to understand, Sareen still managed to have a basic understanding of the tongue as the two traded semi-intelligible words. The greasy goblin, who went by the name of Grizzle Geargrease, offered Sareen room and board as well as free meals so long as she would work for him, crafting a fine variety of engineering mechanisms. Sareen accepted with vigor, marveling at the chance to make more things such as her wood and bone squirrel.

While the original contract was only intended to last a year, it ended up extending four years more, a five years total that Sareen made Ratchet her home. Amongst her time there not only was she taught the fine lines of engineering, but of the local languages. Grizzle found it best for her to learn of the important trade tongues, so she read from scrolls of common, Orcish, and of course goblin. Alas, as the five years drew to a close, so did the good in her life. Grizzle met an unfortunate fate, fallen victim of debt to the goblin mafia that ran the back streets of Ratchet. All of his fortune, or lack there of was left to Sareen. Amongst it was a fair amount of engineering pieces, the workshop and three gold coins. She sold off the workshop for an extra two gold and rented a cart with what she had remaining. Once it was all loaded up, Sareen gave Ratchet one last glance before shipping off to the newly founded Orgrimmar.

It would be in Orgrimmar that Sareen could finally enter the Engineering community under her own name. Shortly after moving there she bought her own workspace on the Drag and began working without hesitation. She had a rough start, given that engineering was still a new art within the Horde as a whole, though slowly interest would build until Sareen had daily visitors asking for one supply or another.

Her success was well gained in the coming years as she never came to give up on her ambition for more knowledge. Every day she would go about on a search for new schematics or new models or a new anything she could study and build. Alas there would come a time where she even needed a break.

For a short few months, Sareen ventured about with a group of horde loyalists named 'The Stormshade Clan'. While she quickly grew longing to her workshop back in Orgrimmar the constant travels did ignite a passion that had long sense faded in the woman. The old teachings of Jen'do were renewed, of the potions that he use to craft and conjure. Slowly she would bring alchemy into her engineering, using a variety of poisons to make her weapons more powerful, potions to make her crafts more sucessful, and oils to make her machines run smoother.

To this day Sareen frequents between areas such as Booty Bay, Ratchet, Orgrimmar, or any other great source of scientific prowess. .

Skills and Abilities

Bi-lingual In the course of her stay in Ratchet, Sareen was tutored to most common tongues used in everyday trade; Common, Orcish and Goblin. Of course she also fluently speaks her home language of Zandali

Builder Sareen is not a woman that focuses on strength of not body but mind. As she is an avid and swift build of contraptions, usually able to repair almost any mechanical break with some of the most limited supplies. Atop of this, whenever she is whisked into combat, she is more likely to put her own creations out on the front line rather than herself.