Mantonus

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Information

Player: jasonb

Character Full Name: Mantonus Mathius

Character In-Game Name: Mantonus

Nickname(s): None

Association(s): The Alliance, the Harrowed

Race: Human

Class: Warrior

Age: 37

Sex: Male

Hair: Black, shoulder length in cut.

Eyes: Dark Blue, almost black

Weight: 204

Height: 6'4

Other: A ropey scar extends across his back from the left shoulder to his right hip horizontally, accompanied by another small scar downward over his far right cheek.

Appearance

Dark clothing, and dark armor of the moody sort.

Personality

Mehrun is intrusive and moody by nature, but gifted with straightforward and reasonable thought on an impressive scale. He believes in human superiority, but doesn't openly practice this, neither does he really ever act upon it. It's more of a philosophy, than a belief. He has admired dragons since he was a child, taken by their great importance, strength, size, and beauty. He relished any texts he could find on the subjects, especially ones relating to Nefarious and Onyxia.

He isn't anti-social, but he isn't habitually a conversationalist. His favorite color is blue, and he likes slow, 2-4 music sounds. He has a pessimistic and rather depraved psyche, enjoying hunting thoroughly solely just to cause a creature pain. He enjoys the controlling power he feels when dealing death. However, he truly found peace when he'd killed a man. This man was unfortunate to be robbing him at the time.

History

Mehrun was born in Redridge, raised to his early teens in Elwynn, and moved at fourteen to Westfall with his family, being; His Father, Greggory, Mother Marideth, Sister Caryn, and Older Brother Kerk.

However, Many farms were being taken by Defias brigands and looted, the families slaughtered ruthlessly. It was on a night of "leisure" this happened to Mehrun and his family. They were gathered around the fire sheltered by their crude lean-to. His father hadn't had the time to prepare a real house, but they'd only been there a few weeks, and the crops had been doing badly due to the crumbling climate. They'd found it was nearly impossible to breath life into the rugged land. His whole family was on edge and moody, and the only commerce they had was hunting and trading what little they had with locals. His family had taken the hard trek across much land, close to the sea. His drunken father had been telling stories, saying how his father's friend had once met King Terenis Menethil, when suddently he seemed to grow even more tense and glowered at the family around him. “You boys need to start pullin' yer weight. We ain't gonna be able live out here with you sittin' on your asses the whole time while I struggle to feed y'laggarts.” His father had said.

Mehrun has protested fiercely, but only in his head. He'd helped his father as much as he could, but he didn't seem to notice. He just sat there, thinking back on his fourteen years. He was nearly as tall, but not quite as wide as father. That didn't mean he was useless. He'd made it clear to Mehrun that he was a burden on this trip, and he should've left him in Westfall. He poked at the fire, tending it while trying to ignore the other members of his family huddled near him. His dad ceased yelling, and was looking around. In the air, there was an odd cackling sound somewhere within the dark. His father leapt over to his rusty old sword and picked it up, looking around attentively. Everything stayed quiet.

Then, in an instant, several gnolls jumped from the black ring around their “house”. They overwhelmed his father before he could swing his sword, hacking and mangling him while the rest of the family screamed and scrambled away. Mehrun ran as fast as he could, dodging through undergrowth and sobbing as the footfalls of his mother and brother stopped coming behind him and the mad cackling increased as the gnolls ransacked his home. He ran for as long as he could, till he fell to the ground, exhausted and without enough breath to continue crying.

He slept, and woke. He walked, terrified and hungry, until he found a road. He kept following it, scraping past gnolls and finally stumbling upon a Defias camp. He was originally frightened, but they jeered and laughed, bringing him in and recruiting him in a drunken stupor. He stayed with them, learning how to live off crime successfully. Eventually, he picked up and left abruptly, heading for Stranglethorn Vale to escape the Defias lifestyle. Naturally, He fell in with pirates and brigands, scraping out a life through extortion and thievery. He left the pirates after three years, traveling up and back to Westfall through Stranglethorn and Elwynn.

Later, around the age twenty-six, he joined a group of rather nasty travelers, mixed in race. They called themselves the Blackforest Warriors. There was an orc, Marok, a dwarf, Jhrek, two humans, Neville and Jarell, and a tauren called Manorn accompanied by a goblin called Geblin. They roved about pillaging small caravans and other dastardly mercenary jobs relative to assassination (a specialty of Geblin's) and guard-work. He worked with this group for the better part of three and a half years before it fell apart due to internal conflict around Stranglethorn Vale.

Mehrun then broke off and lived alone for a time, appearing in different human civilizations to mingle with local crime-lords and people of note for free-lance jobs, mostly on the shady side, earning him a fair amount of coin. He began to feel complacent, however, and was throwing about ideas brought on by reminisces of his past associations with the Blackforest Warriors.