Character Full Name: Harold 'Zarack' Wrennt
Character In-Game Name: Zarack
Nickname(s): Zarack, Zar, Father
Association(s): The Forsaken, The Forgotten Shadow
Age: Died at the age of 57
Hair: Dark Ponytail
Eyes: Faint yellow glow
Weight: 112 lbs.
Zarack is usually hooded and wearing dark shades of different colored robes. (Depending on the occasion)
Alignment: Lawful Evil
Zarack is quite depressed, although he can swiftly remove those thoughts when needed to focus on other matters, he has a rather strong distaste for any other race than the forsaken, although when interacting with those of other kin, he keeps those thoughts to himself and treats them with a "false politeness" with a fake smile on his face, because he knows that if he goes off making enemies, his goals will become more and more difficult to reach. He does not take kindly to impolite behavior and he tries to keep a well-mannered structure in his interactions. He often breaks his sentences several times and filling the voids with a "yes" sort of to confirm to himself that what he is saying is valid. He is not so gullible, and it's hard to earn his trust. He will not use violent methods when they're not needed, and he strongly believes in the forgotten shadow and it's teachings.
His memory before his time with the scourge is a big blurry mess in his mind. He thinks that he remembers a few things from his previous life on Azeroth but he knows that it could just be his mind making him believe his thoughts of old times are memories, when they could be but mere thoughts. As a human, he was a priest of the Holy Light living in the Tirisfal Glades, but there wasn't anything peculiar with his human life other than how he was a respected priest and a skilled alchemist. As the plague arrived, he as many others died from poisoned grain from Andorhal and as he felt his body giving up on his mind, and as as his thoughts faded away and everything disappeared from his own-knowledge, with his last living breaths he prayed to the Light to let him rest in piece. Obviously, that didn't happen.
As his will broke free from the Lich King, along with the others who later followed Sylvanas and the forsaken, and he opened his eyes. The first thoughts that came to him was that something was wrong. He stood up, and looked at his surroundings, where was he? He felt a soft breeze against the side of his head. The usual smell of trees and flowers were gone, instead there was a smell of... Nothing. He couldn't smell anything, it was as if everything had turned black and dull, losing the essence of what made it live. He looked down at his hands and as he gazed upon his fleshless hands he shook his head and looked again. He lifted parts of his robes and looked down on his legs, them too had lost their former appearance. He ran to a nearby lake, and looked down at this mirror-image of his face, shining in the water. "What have I become?" he said quietly to himself. "Is this how the Light awards it's most loyal servants... Is this what the Light sees as resting in piece!?" "No... I did nothing wrong... Yes... NOTHING... This could not of happened to me!" A loud scream echoed from his mouth, scaring away a couple of nearby crows, eating off a dead worg. He looked up at the dark sky. "Light?... Is this... Light?... No... There is no Light, It's but a false... Yes... inaccurate lie."
As time passed by, Harold followed the other forsaken, learning a new faith, one that could not abandon him unless he would abandon himself. The Forgotten Shadow. On the sidelines of studying and pursuing his new faith, he practiced the art of potion and poison brewing with other alchemists and apothecaries, potions to aid his cause, and poisons to ruin those who dare to oppose it.
And that's what he's doing now, learning the ways of a true apothecary, to truly master it. While following the Banshee Queen and the tenants of the Forgotten Shadow, to reach his goal. To Ascend.