Bananor

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Information

Player: Ural

Character Full Name: Bananor

Character In-Game Name: Bananor Stormleaf

Nickname(s): He prefers "Bann" if anything. Humans have often mispronounced his name as Banana'nor, and it stuck. Following that has also been Banana Blades, much to his despair.

Association(s): Cenarion Circle, Sentinel Army, the Alliance

Race: Night Elf

Class: Warrior

Skills and Abilities: Bananor can move comfortably in plate armor and wields his glaives with a master's expertise. He is at home on the front lines against a swarming enemy such as the Silithid or large scale battles. This makes Bananor not particularly efficient at single combat and at times can be dangerous to those fighting in melee next to him.

Age: 7001

Sex: Male

Hair: Long light-blue hair with some faded strands from age. He keep his hair neatly in twin braids and a top-knot. Rarely when undone, it would reach his waist.

Eyes: Amber

Weight: 302 lbs [137 kg]

Height: 7'4" [26.8 m or scale 1.05]

Usual Garments/Armor: Bananor wears Kaldorei-styled plate-clad leather armor for defense as well as to keep the elements out. His favored weapons are a pair of identical glaives. The Sentinel's sun-bleached Darnassian tabard is ancient and carries a legacy of loose threads and repairs. If one were to get a good look at it, the size has been augmented to fit the man. He also wears a rope necklace with a single silithid carapace fragment attached to bottom of it. The fragment is purple with yellow stripes.

Other: Centuries of training and martial combat has perfected Bananor's body. It has also stressed his body in various ways. There's a wide in his knuckles and he walks with a long slow gait. Bananor has a large personal space bubble as he seems to simply take up a lot of space wherever he is. This makes him look and feel cramped in dense places such as Ashenvale or Feralas. He's got a couple faded puncture-wound scars, but otherwise he protects himself from the rigors of his profession.

Alignment: Neutral Good

Personality

A gentle giant, Bananor has had many years under his belt and it shows in the aura of peace that surrounds him. He moves and speaks with a slowness typical of older Night Elves. He does not let too much of anything get him riled up. He believes the Silithid are a force that might need the aid of the Horde to completely eradicate. For this reason alone he gives some room for the Tauren, Orcs and at times even Blood Elves to prove themselves useful. Women Sentinels and older Night Elves give the man pause. He believes their typically traditional views often leave much to be desired in the way they treat him. He has some difficulty with others who would turn down others earnestly desiring to help, simply based on race or gender. He has a defender's spirit and feels that he has earned his place protecting his people.

History

Bananor was ushered into the world shortly before his twin bother, Dendanor. Both with amber eyes, their family hoped for the best for the infants' future. As typical boys the twins were competitive in play and shared a tight bond. As they matured, Bananor leaned towards martial fighting and his brother desired to become a Druid. The elder, even if only by a few minutes, felt like his duty was to protect his little brother. There was no jealousy between the brothers when their paths' split from each other. They respected each others' strengths and protected their weaknesses with a kin's loyalty.

His brother fell asleep into the Emerald Dream. And for the first time, Bananor was truly alone. The young warrior clinged to his own training and physical prowess in the meantime. While his father mostly tended to his gifted son, Bananor was trained by his mother. She was a relentless Sentinel and yet inspiring. One of his most cherished memories was when she commented simply in passing, "Be the best at whatever you do, son." Taking it to heart, Bananor vowed that he would be the best warrior he could be. As the great span of his years continued, many adventures collected under his belt and countless evils were defeated in ancient Southern Kalimdor. A rhythmic cycle of battle, healing and respite was normal for the wanderer. He once fancied a Huntress, but the feeling was not mutual. Bananor does not speak of his heartache in that experience. Bananor began to distance himself from his people and over time became a recluse. For many years he was unable to shake his depression of her rather blunt rejection. The warrior lived off the lands of Kalimdor preferring the vast expanses of wastelands rather than the various forested land.

That all changed with the War of the Shifting Sands. Bananor's mother hunted down her wayward son and told him of the chaotic war in sands. Eager to prove himself and get out of his rut, he traveled back to Silithus with his mother. Together they learned of the destruction of their hometown, Southwind Village. It was in the war that the warrior picked up glaives for the first time. Bananor joined the Cenarion Hold Infantry and fought against the Silithids. As a token for his first kill, he took a peice of the carapace and used it to adorn a simple rope necklace that he still wears today. It reminds him of what he is good at despite whatever current failing he is experiencing. For many years following his return, he remained stationed in the desert wasteland. Bananor took in a quiet solace amid the constant threat. No blade was ever turned down or rejected. He had at last found a bit comradery. Male or female, druid or warrior, they all carried the same war-weary visage. Time heals all wounds, and soon he came to push past the rejection he felt so long ago. Bananor continued to watch over Silithus as the War trickled down.

Not too long ago the soldier was again approached by his Sentinel mother. Her form was battered, bruised and fel-burns overtook the majority of her body. The results of the Legion's invasion were finally delivered to those still holding the ancient lands. He was cut to the heart, unable to be there for his people when they needed him. The cost of the victory was their immortality. Mind wracked with that it all meant, his mother tried to cheer her son up with some good news. Men were being allowed into the Sentinels, the point reinforced by handing down her own tabard. She confirmed her withdrawal from the Army, and from all future wars. They embraced one last time, before Bananor left to formally apply to the Sentinel Army. He has not seen his parents since.

When he arrived in Darnassus, he was meet with cold shoulders and steely eyes. The thought of being rejected again ate at the Warrior again. As Bananor looked down to the cloth bundle heirloom in his arms, the moonlight caught his necklace. He rubbed a thumb over the trinket thinking about his campaign in the sands. Bananor earnestly desired to protect his people, so he ignored the condescending looks and put forth his application. Bananor has yet to regret his decision and still helps his people to this day.