Tarius

Information

Player: Monolith

Character Full Name: Tarius Marcot

Character In-Game Name: Tarius

Nickname(s): N/A

Association(s): The Alliance, the Ebon Blade

Race: Still recognizable as a Human, though dead.

Class: Death Knight

Age: 34 at death.

Sex: Male

Hair: Neck-length sand color

Eyes: Runic blue.

Weight: 148 lbs

Height: 6'1

Appearance

Usual Garments/Armor: Heavy armor

Personality

Alignment: Neutral Evil

Tarius, even before becoming a Death Knight, was paranoid and unstable. He constantly believed that people were out to get him, and becoming a Death Knight has nothing but amplified such a feeling. He's usually calm and collected enough to think and exist properly, but under pressure he will snap like a twig and turn incredibly violent and unpredictable. His reactions to others who he does not know will be skeptical at best.

History

Tarius Broughback was born in Goldshire to two unemployed parents. Times were hard growing up, until his father got a letter in the mail, as many other did that day. It was an ad for the Stormwind guard, in which Tarius' father saw two words that made him smile.

"Instant recruitment"

With that and after a conversation with the missus, they moved to Stormwind and both Tarius' mother and father enlisted, getting plenty of cashflow into the family. This made the ages of Tarius from 9-14 good, except for the fact that his parents were never home. He grew lonely, and developed a slight antisocial tendency.

Though living what most would consider "The good life", he became a wanderer around the age of 13, moving around Stormwind and exploring it. He wandered around the Park and the Mage district, the two being much more preferable to the smoky Dwarven district, the Old Town which he swore he saw someone getting robbed, And much better than the Cathedral district, where he was shooed out of everywhere without his parents there.

It wouldn't be long before his curiousity got the best of him and he wandered inside the Slaughtered Lamb. He sat at a back table for a while until he saw a man in a dark robe enter and go right for the area behind Tarius, open a small trap door, and go down. Tarius watched, looked to the Barkeep who was busy with another customer, and followed the strange man down into the Warlock basement.

Upon finding such a thing, he gasped audiably, and got a few eyes on him- including the eyes of a small flaming being. The next shock would be a hand on his shoulder.

"You do not belong down here, child." Came the deep, intimidating voice of the barkeep.

"Wh- what is..?" Tarius said almost breathlessly. The grip on his shoulder tightened, but a man in a black shirt and pants came up, smiling.

"Leave him to me, Jarel.." Came the man's smooth voice. "I shall handle him." And with that, the man moved beside Tarius. They spoke for perhaps thirty minutes before Tarius was urged out with a note given to him by the Warlock. It read

"Meet me Outside Goldshire, near Fargodeep mine." And also showed a small map and an X marking the area.

Tarius left to the area and met the man, who was named Revan Marcot. It was here that he began training to be a Warlock. He took to it with difficulty, often flinching after spells or cowering away from Revan. He was young and unexposed to such, but after a few years, he grew into it ad saw Revan as more of a father figure than his ever was, and decided to, as a symbol of Tarius' platonic love for the man, took his last name as his own.

Tarius grew obsessed with the magic that his father-figure taught him. He was always eager to learn, and always wanted to know more. He became quite adept with the magic of all three schools, but mastered none. Once Revan said there was nothing left to teach, he left to try to find if he could find more on his own, discover more, anything. His learning could not be finished so fast- when in reality it took over 18 years to get him in his current position. He wandered north, and the farther he got, the more... strange he seemed to realize he was.

His skin was pale enough to seem like it glowed. His eyes were sunken deep, his voice lowered and his skin seemed waxy. He also seemed to get angry easier, and metaphorically always looking over his shoulder. People started to dislike him easier as well.. He knew Revan said that going down the path he had would change him.. Perhaps this was it.

It would be long- in fact, three years, before he reached the area he had heard whispers of. A haven of dark magic and horrible entities.. Old Lordaeron. He had assumed it as a haven of Warlocks, where they could summon demons freely.. However he was sadly mistaken. He wandered deep into the Eastern Plaguelands before he saw the first and last thing he ever would- a farm with a large field.. spewing orange fumes(?) into the air. He began choking on the air and fell to his knees as the Plague overcame him.

Arthas saw a proficiency with foul magics already residing within Tarius' mind, not to mention a subconscious that basically wanted to kill everyone who he felt wronged him, or would. He judged Tarius worthy of Deathknight-hood.

Tarius rose not long after, sputtering and almost nude- save for pants. He panted and looked around, finding himself among others like him. They seemed confused and wary, but his focus would be broken as he stood and approached an Orc, who looked him over. "Hmph. New." The Orc said simply before leading Tarius to a large area that would be frightening to others. He was fitted for armor, and seemed to be on autopilot as he dressed.

He'd then be taken to a Runeforge, where he made his own blade, which pulsed with dark energy. He lifted it, stronger in body than before, and sheathed it on his back. The Orc then gave him his orders, and Tarius left to complete them without a word.

Not long after he first became a Deathknight, he was chosen to be in the battle at Light's Hope Chapel. He was near crippled from the three hundred holy men , but was still able to watch the battle between Darion, Tirion, and Arthas. Once Darion pledged his men to the Argent Crusade, Tarius joined alongside with him and the others, the voices in his mind gone.