Sigmund

Information

Player: Esthrunil

Character Full Name: Sigmund Palorius Blacksteel

Character In-Game Name: Sigmund

Nickname(s): None to date.

Association(s): The Forsaken, Etc.

Race: Forsaken

Class: Warrior

Age: 49

Sex: Male

Hair: None.

Eyes: The eerie, golden glow that so many Forsaken have taken to.

Weight: 159 Lbs.

Height: 5'11”.

Appearance

Usual Garments/Armor: Sigmund often has several pieces of metal bolted to various parts of his body, with a metal mask attached to his skull. Otherwise, he wears light, fairly protective leather armor.

Other: Sigmund often carries scrap metal about, as well as a rifle and a sword and shield.

Personality

Sigmund is an obsessive perfectionist, insisting on everything he does ending up -just- the way he wants it. To top this off, he often either expects perfection from his materials, or he sells them off. He has long since seen the futility of expecting perfection from people, however, and simply tries to treat them as ‘fairly as they deserve'.

A recluse in the later years of his life, Sigmund almost fears crowds, and he favors the impersonal. Reflecting this, he has taken to constantly shielding his face with a metal mask of some sort, especially when in public. He does not keep to himself any longer, having resolved to spend more time in public, if only to conquer his ‘fear'. He has done so after quite a while. With his mask on, Sigmund acts confident enough to be like just about any other member of society. Sigmund, however, refuses to remove his mask as it is the barrier that keeps the comfort in public. Without it, he would likely return to being a recluse.

Atop all of this, Sigmund is a curious learner. He tends to pry as much as he can to learn about some things. However, he feels that knowledge is power, and when one has knowledge of him, they have power over him. He doesn't tend to talk about himself freely, and it would take a rather long time for him to open up to anyone. He tends to lie about his past for this same reason.

He holds a bit of prejudice toward humans, paladins and priests especially. Other than that, he barely cares what race anyone is of, as long as they don't have a history of hating -him-.

History

Sigmund was born, like many others, to a small family in western Lordaeron. His father was a blacksmith and his mother stayed at home and tended to him and his sister. The first several years of his life were rather uneventful. He helped his father at the shop, went to a nearby church for school and learned as well as he could. He didn't really take to cultivating friendships well. He was just an awkward child who didn't like to talk much. He kept to himself completely, and took to his studies as much as possible.

Naturally, he was picked on by the others in his class for his quiet nature, and the affinity for learning that he showed. They called him all sorts of names behind his back and some even did so to his face. Needless to say, his childhood and early teenage years were less than fun, though he did take comfort in watching his father work and doing his own work. Through much of his teenage years, he began an apprenticeship at his father's workshop. He watched his father smith pieces of armor, weapons of all sorts, and even small, metal tools. His father taught him how to do so himself, if only to a certain extent, as well.

When Sigmund came of age, however, he resolved to continue his education in the city of Lordaeron. Leaving his small hometown, he followed a Caravan the entire way, keeping to himself and what manuals his father sent along with him to continue his smith-work. He did so while he spent time in Lordaeron, learning how to speak properly as well as how to properly smith various things. He took to them quickly, but more so to the smithing, finding the metal-work fascinating. He spent years studying under a local blacksmith, learning a great deal from him.

He always found blacksmith work to be fascinating, and after studying it for years and becoming fairly good, but no master at it, he took to engineering as well. He met a gnome in Lordaeron who agreed to help him understand the inner-workings of machinery, for a price. One that Sigmund gladly paid, of course. For even more years, he buried himself in Engineering blueprints, learning under the wing of this gnome. Life was good, though he still had no real friends other than his teachers.

Sigmund was a poor, poor man by the time he became satisfactory at both engineering and blacksmithing. He took to petty crime to keep alive, all while attempting to keep himself sealed away in his workshop. He made weapons and sold them, including rifles, to thugs and mercenaries for months. Until finally, he just -had- to understand the workings of these weapons. He stole books and manuals that taught how to use a sword and shield.

It wasn't the best way to learn, but he found it to be satisfactory. He trained his body in his spare time, even becoming a thug, himself, for some rather unsavory types. It all didn't last long, however, and Sigmund left Lordaeron with all of the manuals and books he could carry, reading them on yet another caravan-ride out. The more he studied metal and gears, the more he realized that he -envied- them. He could rarely understand humans by reading books, but he could the gears. They didn't -have- to speak, to tell tales, to lie, to insult. They had a purpose that he could clearly define.

It slowly drove him to understand that his calling was in engineering and blacksmithing. A combination of the two, of course, for both were so fascinating. But this all seemed to end on one stop in a small town. The scourge had already struck the town before they got there and the caravan was quickly subdued. Blood was everywhere, people were slaughtered mercilessly by the dead. All of the inhabitants, including Sigmund, were piled into a meat wagon and carried out of the area.

But then, he awoke. He opened his eyes only to hear the whispers of the Lich King echoing through his mind. His weak training with sword and shield paid off in his service to the Lich King. He was assigned to be a foot soldier at first, but proved that his work laid more in siege-work when he aided in getting some of the weapons ready before a battle. He felt a sense of purpose here. He worked on siege-weapons for the Lich King for what seemed to be a long time.

One day, he found that the whispers stopped flowing through his brain. He couldn't quite understand it, but he went with the rest who were rebelling against the Lich King. He aided in the civil war that the ones who called themselves Forsaken had begun, quickly calling himself one of them. He didn't quite care who he ‘worked' for any more. He took his old name on after he returned to the sentient, free-thinking world.

When the war ended, he quickly found himself a new workshop and went back to hiding from people. He noticed a burning urge to continue his work. One he could not ignore, and he didn't. He couldn't quite remember every moment of his life, but he remembered that envy of metal and gears. With his free will back, he could understand the envy once more, and he acted on it. He began his new work, creating the perfect suit of armor. Everything had to be -just- right, and he needed to be anonymous, to walk among people more often, yes. But he couldn't do it if they knew him.

Cue First person

They can't know me. No, they can't, they'll try to control me just like -he- did. He knew me, he knew all of us. He was in all of our heads, wasn't he? He knew more about us than -we- did!

And so, I created the first part of my armor. My crown jewel, of course. A mask of metal, and I won't let it come off. I screwed it directly into the bony bits of my head, I did. It was perfect. I could see through it, and having it there… Eased my mind. I knew that I was secure behind it.

Everything else? That is just a matter of time, really. The perfect materials aren't at my disposal yet, so I simply went scavenging for a long while. Heard something about Elves before I left, I think their city was under attack or somesuch. I left anyways, time wasn't to be wasted. I had some fair blueprints written up, but they could improve. I found some fair pieces of metal on the trip. Not good enough, of course, but they'll do. Anything else, I'll sell. Everything will come in time, but it needs to be -just- right.