Kotak

Information

Player: Jason

Character Full Name: Kotak Bloodfist

Character In-Game Name: Kotak

Nickname(s): None

Association(s): Warsong Outriders (Formerly) ; The Horde; Goresight Vanguard

Race: Orc

Class: Warrior (Grunt)

Age: 24

Sex: Male

Hair: Short, forming a ridge over his head. Black.

Eyes: Red

Weight: 350

Height: 6'6

Appearance

Primarily, armor of a patriotic red hue that allows him to move easily - even when he's idle. As such, he's learned to be very comfortable in it. The armor he wears, however, only covers part of his thighs and the vital parts of his stomach and hands, with torn, studded boots. Along with a loincloth, he still wears a Horde Grunt's tabard.

Other: Carries a biography of King Terenas II, written in Common. Extorting a roughly translated Common to Orcish primer, he spends much free time translating the book to "better understand the enemy".

Personality

Alignment: Neutral Good, with slight Neutral Evil tendencies.

Kotak's psyche is made up of violent, short-fused aggression and brooding depression, rarely shifting from either. He uses drink to smother his shame - the alcohol doing little to snuff his burning rage. While a regular drinker, he detests gambling and has an upstanding, honor-bound personality. He does what he can to be a benefactor to society, up to and including the killing of many humans and night elves whilst screaming "Lok'tar Ogar" and Warsong battle cries at the top of his lungs.

He has a strong hate for humans and night elves - humans for his memory of freed orcs and their weakness, the night elves for slaying his father and numerous other orcs. Also, they're night elves. Enough said, right? Besides these stereotypical hatreds, he also shares the stereotypical respect for Tauren and Trolls. Forsaken and Blood Elves, however, must prove themselves honorable and worthy of his time in order to receive respect. As for the other races, they are of the Alliance, and therefore born to be slain by his axe.

History

Kotak was born in a nomadic Warsong encampment on the outskirts of the human kingdom of Lordaeron and Arathi. He was a young child when Orgrim Doomhammer began raising the Horde and freeing the orcs from their internment camps. His small sect of the Warsong joined the bulk of the Horde as they fought for freedom. After many months (more months than he could count at the time), he watched as the Horde constructed boats and began their voyage across the sea to Kalimdor.

Kotak's father put down his axe to help build Orgrimmar. Kotak's mother fell to disease, and Kotak was sent to stay with close family friends until his father could support him. Several years later, in his mid-teens, his father had established a home outside of Ogrimmar, farming and tending to swine. With only each other, they grow close, and his father teaches him the art of war.

As conflicts with kaldorei rose, along with the growing blood lust, his father was called away to the Warsong Outriders. With his father still absent, Kotak reluctantly went to his trials, wishing fervently his father was present.

The trial was held at morning. The sky was a blazing red, accenting the craggy, orange landscape with a wonderfully hellish look. Despite the early hour, sweat already gathered in several places, and his breath came in short gasps as he climbed the sheer wall of rock in front of him. He was thankful it was not midday, as the stone would burn his skin. Each muscle in him strained as he reached up to grasp the next handhold. He latches onto it, pulling himself up and into a shallow crevice to rest. The roughly hewn stone axe looped at his belt made a mad clacking noise as he threw himself inside the shaded depression. The rope thrown over his shoulder cushioned much of the impact for his weary bones.

His trial was simple. Slay a beast and bring back proof of his fresh kill. A typical Kosh'arg festival rite. He intended to go above and beyond. He was going to scale a cliff and claim a prize worthy of honor - the bloodied body of a harpy. While the feat seemed glorious in his head, he was wondering if it was even worth it. He could just kill a raptor, or a boar. At least they were on the ground. He shook his head, clearing the thoughts like cobwebs from his mind. He intended to bring honor to his family.

He looks up and bares his tusks. Pushing himself to his feet, he begins his ascent once more, the top of the cliff nearly ten meters above him, the ground almost thirty. He'd come this far, and he'd damn well see the rest through.

Kotak at last reaches the top, casting himself upon the summit of the cliff without a second thought. He lies there, pumping air into his lungs at a furious rate, heart like a rabbit's and muscles trembling. As he rests, the ominous sound of wings make itself heard in the distance. Summoning the last reserves of his strength, Kotak rises to a knee, looking up for the expected harpy. Instead, the sight that greets him is all too familiar and blinding. He stares straight into the sun and shuts his eyes, throwing a hand up just as the harpy seemingly materializes in front of the blazing orb in the sky.

It slams into him, sending him rag dolling almost off the edge of the sheer drop. Hurriedly, Kotak rolls the other way, getting to his feet and taking his axe in hand. The harpy barrels into him front behind, digging it's talons into his shoulders and wrapping it's hands around his face. The axe flies from his hand, clattering on the rocky ground and sliding over the edge and out of sight. Kotak grabs the harpy's neck, the blood lust igniting in his veins. He throws it over the edge after his axe, jumping to his feet immediately after and bellowing at the top of his lungs.

In due haste, the harpy crests the edge of the cliff, veering directly for Kotak once more, talons outstretched. He charges forward to meet it, slamming into the thing and overpowering it. He hammers it into the ground, raising his fist and slugging it repeatedly into the thing's head until his hand is drenched in the blood of his own torn knuckles and flattened skull of the harpy.

Utterly spent, he flips over and stares at the sky, closing his eyes and resting there for nearly an hour. Slightly rejuvenated, he chips an edge into a sharp rock using two stones, severing the harpy's foot from it's leg. Securing the trophy to his belt, he begins his ascent back down the cliff, using the rope at the halfway mark and dropping the rest of the way.

He is received by a group of elders at the nearby village who appraise his kill - but bear bad news. His father had been killed by Night Elves on the war front. On that bittersweet day, he discarded his father's name and took the name Bloodfist, fashioned in memorial to his first kill, passed trial, and the day on which he was informed of his father's death.

He quickly joined the Warsong Outriders, seeking revenge, justice, and glory. After years of fighting, he becomes a grunt. He is dishonorably rejected from Horde service, however, for striking a superior. In addition to the discharge, he was challenged to a duel of honor by the subordinate he struck; he promptly lost, his beaten body cast into the Barrens without dignity. Bereft of his honor, he hired himself out as a freelance merc to goblins and worked arenas, drinking his pain out of a tankard and longing for a chance to regain his lost honor.