Sarnzul

Information

Player: Monolith

Character Full Name: Sarnzul

Character In-Game Name: Sarnzul

Nickname(s): Sarn

Association(s): The Horde

Race: Troll

Class: Warrior

Age: 29

Sex: Male

Hair: Blazing orange tied back into many, many dreadlocks

Eyes: Blood red

Weight: 182 lbs

Height: 7' 9”

Appearance

Usual Garments/Armor: He's usually barely clad by armor, often harnesses and woolies.

Personality

He's suspect to many emotions coming at random times. He's almost bi-polar, but in truth he just has sudden mood swings. Sometimes he's savage and growls at anything that comes near. Others he's speaking with and enjoying the company of others. He's almost always, either in sad, RAAAGE, or jolly moods, two constants. Brave and reckless. Perhaps just reckless, but he likes to think brave.

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

History

Sarnzul was born on a dark, rainy day in a small village on the Darkspear isles. He was born to a large family, the largest family in the village. The family consisted of 4 boys, 5 girls, a mother and father, and a cousin who's parents were slain by wild animals a few years back. Sarnzul was the 2nd oldest male, and had to help the first oldest take care of the others. However, he had aspirations above family-tending.

He wanted to be a guard. A protector of the village. And one day, he had his opening. A small scouting party had killed off three village protectors, and they needed more. Sarnzul ditched his family for the day wand went out to sign up. The Troll guards took him in immediately, not many others wishing to sign away their lives.

His training was long and brutal, this particular sect of Trolls valuing power and grace over stealthy ambush like most other Trolls. From this he gained a muscled body, though as most of his kind he remained lean, but still powerfully built. He soon, also within the training, found his favorite weapon combonation. An Axe.. And a dagger.

When he was just reaching adulthood, however, tragedy struck his village. A roving band of Murlocs happened across the small village, and began an invasion. Sarnzul fought valiantly- or so he'd like to believe- but was knocked aside by a large, spiked club. He fell unconscious.

He would awake hours later, beaten, and numb from the cold rain falling. It would be a while before he could move himself again. Once able, he slowly looked across his surroundings, finding animals prowling into the village to scavenge. He slowly stood, holding his chest, and looked upon what had happened. He moved to the town for survivors, finding only his eldest brother, who looked worse than him.

They both began traversing the Isle, deciding that mourning was for another time. A full day would pass before they came to a friendly camp, where they would be tended to.. Unfortunately, however, Sarnzul's brother passed away. Though sad, he knew there was nothing he could do.

It would be only weeks before Thrall's Horde came to save the Darkspear, and with them, Sarnzul.

He's been training himself ever since from the tactics he'd learned from the old village, upholding their way of fighting and beliefs. Though rarely learning anything new, he is well trained in what he knows.