Ennio

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Information

Player: Anski

Character Full Name: Ennio Driftlock

Character In-Game Name: Ennio

Nickname(s): N/A

Association(s): N/A

Race: Human

Class: Warrior

Age: 44

Sex: Male

Hair: Brown and scruffy, thoroughly messed up.

Eyes: Muted brown

Weight: 213

Height: 6'1"

Alignment: Neutral Good

Appearance

Cloth clothing and a few leather straps, a single holster on his right side and one on his left ankle, with dusty, beat up black pants.

Other: N/A

Personality

Ennio is introverted and selfish of his personality, he'd rather stay with himself than open up to anyone at all. Although genuinely caring for the safety of others and how they're feeling, he does it from a vicarious viewpoint, believing that opening up to someone was not a two way street, and that he should not have to follow as such. A man of hard work, Flintlock appreciates a job well done and will strive by any means to complete what he has promised or started. On the inside, he is a self viewed hero. On the outside, he'd rather be seen as a glimpse in the shadow, or the flicker of a scope glass.

History

As a man tossed a cigarette into the brush and a woman lay inside, Ennio Driftlock was created upon Azeroth. In the dead of the brush, the woman slept with fifteen other men that night, before calling it over. The sun rose, and set again as the cycle continued. She returned to Stormwind, as the city expanded outward in a mass, rising glorious stone that had not yet been impregnated by the blade of the rage blinded, viciously savage orcs. The crescent of the year passed, and Ennio was born in the midst of the summer, the woman having been near broke from her line of work being shattered by her deformed state. She immediately rid him onto his grandfather in Westfall, just as they were capitalizing on the harvest lands. She went off to live in Stormwind, alone and back at her line of hateful, shamed work, without even naming her son. The grandfather, Alius Malone, was a rancher and had been all his life. He raised the boy just as he had raised his daughter, gnarled hands being a familiar sight for the child who was beginning to understand the world around him. Alius and Ennio did not talk much, but they could communicate without speaking, nodding at one another often enough. Ennio was raised on books and the knowledge of life, an education a foreign concept. By the time he was thirteen, Ennio was helping along the ranch and keeping it all together. Around this time late in the year, the Orcs had destroyed Stormwind, successfully killing his mother and ruining the glorious city. Their march turned to Westfall within the year, and the citizens could not hold out any longer.

His grandfather commanded him to flee, despite his grandson's protests. Alius pulled a revolver on him, pointing it right as his head from across the room. Outside, the sounds of war raged. When Ennio protested, his grandfather fired at him, yet his old age skewed the shot and narrowly missed the boy. His grandfather tossed the revolver at him, and Ennio fled as fast as he could, just a young man with nowhere to go, the mud caking his boots and the rain blurring his vision. He was far from the aegis of war, and continuing to move. He killed to eat and fought to survive, but carried along the coast until a roaming party of Dwarves found him. He weakly held the revolver at them, but could not continue. They took him back to their fortress of Ironforge and he recovered there. He stayed until he was nineteen working as a weaponsmith, before moving onward in the dead of night, feeling out of place from the dwarves. He traveled to Lordaeron, a place he could truly call home. The people were gruffer and spoke in a less refined common, and a lot of them knew how to earn a days pay, despite even more knowing how to steal it. It was here that Ennio, who had long forgotten his scarcely used name, began his work as one of the very infamous, shadowy bounty hunters of the land. Dragging out men from all over, whether dead or alive, he reaped a good fortune of the people of Lordaeron for years. This was prosperous until Ennio was at a standoff point with a man he had been hired to kill. They stood, pistol to pistol, at each end of the room in a shack in the woods outside of the city. A loud explosion knocked both of them off balance, an immediate attack on Lordaeron had been committed by the Scourge. Ennio looked back, still somewhat fresh as a young one, as the man shot him in the shoulder and fled, only to be cut down miles away from the city as he ran north. Ennio grabbed the man's bedsheet and tore it, scantly wrapping his shoulder and moving back south, keeping along the mountain edge. He avoided Orc parties and Scourge reavers in the dead of night, moving quietly through brush as an infection took hold.

The nameless bounty hunter managed to reach the gates of Ironforge before near collapsing, the dwarven guards once taking him back. He was healed proper by the light devoted Dwarves, and rested for weeks as war raged. Ennio, now a crackshot with a pistol and rifle, decided that losing his home twice was far enough. He enlisted with the Ironforge military, working in their sharpshooting parties. They fended off the atrocious orcs and the hate bound Scourge, as the battle lines drew closer and closer, each side wearing thin. He was laying upon a vantage point, scoped rifle in hand and picking off orcs from afar when the weapon tore from his grip, the glass in the scope shattering. He rolled out of the way just as an Orc delivered a near killing blow at where his head once stood. The rancher gunman swiftly stood up, drawing out his revolver. The orc butted him with the pommel of his axe, directly in his right eye. Blood sprayed as the eye popped with a grotesque sound, and Ennio unloaded all six of his shots into the Orc's neck and jaw, the green husk falling dead. Ennio fled, as another party rounded up the hill. Taking low cover, he fired back, killing two and wounding a third. As eight more covered the horizon, he retreated again. The Ironforge military bottlenecked the Orcs and a stalemate was held until the plane bombers arrived. Ennio was held back in rage as his eye was healed over and covered, his calibration near lost. The hate of the world took its toll on him, turning his outside cold while his heart burned in rage. He deserted the military, leaving for the rebuilt Stormwind. As the Orcs moved across the ocean, the war near ending, he immediately returned to the business he knew before, dragging out with a touch of irony, military deserters for pay. As the number dwindled, Ennio left the city in search of other work in the darker underbelly of the land. Some say the Nameless of Lordaeron was slain, others that he still hunts for profit. All Ennio knows is that survival is a race, and he is winning.