Theocratus

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Player: Chanan12

Character Full Name: Theocratus Dominus

Character In-Game Name: Theocratus

Nickname(s): His old buddies from the Kul Tiras called him Troll Flayer after he “rescued” some prisoners from wild trolls.

Association(s): Was once a mercenary for the Midland Warriors. Still a member of the Kul Tiras, just not on official duty. He is in charge of an Alliance veterans organization.

Race: Human

Class: Warrior

Skills and Abilities: Great navigation skill, has a good knowledge of astrology also.

Age: 53

Sex: Male

Hair: Grey/Black

Eyes: Green

Weight: 160 lbs

Height: 5'8

Usual Garments/Armor: Leather armor with riveted plates attached. Very heavy. A tabard of his Alliance veterans organization the “Interceptors”

Personality: It may seem by the questions he asks and his subtle racism that he is very ignorant but only those who spend some time with him know he is far from it. Theocratus appears ignorant to most others in the present because he is a relic from another time, filled with hate, disappointment and sadness. He never really shows his full emotions but occasionally he will have an outburst, for example if he sees or even hears something that resembles an Troll, Orc, Demon, Forsaken he will become very uncomfortable and paranoid. He hates all non Azerothian races, and really only puts up with Draenei because he feels they are the least responsible for the coming of the scourge. Theocratus hides the fact that he lost his entire family to the scourge, his wife and two sons. This effects him on a daily basis from nightmares to him hunting and killing undead.

Current History:Theocratus currently lives in Ironforge and is seeking a new beginning. He thinks he may leave the Interceptors and join an adventuring party or join the Argent Crusade. Theocratus has recently become a more active traveler and has made some new friends.

History: Born in the heart of Lordaeron, Andorhal was his world for eighteen years of his life. He never had dreams of escape or a strange longing to travel to distant lands but he did have questions that his father, being a simple farmhand, could not answer. Theocratus waved his parents goodbye and completely reinvented himself. Theocratus changed his name before age eighteen, he was born Andrew Northcutt. He changed his simply because he did not like the way it sounded. With his new name he gained a sense of independence from his farmers life. He acted like a true man, turning down no challenge and giving up no fight.

He went on foot from the far north and his home down past wildlands and he soon arrived at the threshold of the great kingdom Arathor. He spent 5 years working for a mercenary organization called the “Midland Warriors.” This is where he learned his fighting skills and where he ultimately became a warrior. He often says that he met a great mage along a road who offered him the opportunity to become a mage. Theocratus turned down the opportunity, having no interest in the mage's promises of great power and fortune. Theocratus definitely had the capacity to become a mage, but it was not his interest; and ultimately not his destiny.

Theocratus found himself in the midst of an ongoing war for the sanctity of Azeroth and the fate of humanity. The Midland Warriors were all called to join in the great fight against the demon invasion that threatened the world. This new evil was unlike any man had ever seen. Unspeakable horrors and battles left both sides in ruin. Theocratus lost hope. He thought for sure that he would be killed every battle he engaged in, each day awaiting death and the enemy that was know as the Orcs.

Theocratus left the warfront and traveled to the kingdom of Kul Tiras upon receiving a letter that it was in need of new ranks and brave hearts. It did not take long for Theocratus to love and hate the sea as he did the land. Naval warfare was far more dangerous, but it was what his heart was truly happy with. With the Kul Tiras Theocratus battled many enemies in many different forms, but soon the battle cries softened and the bloodshed lessened.

Theocratus left the battles to go back to his home in Andorhal, where he spent a large portion of his life. He married and had two children, both of them boys. The war with the Orcs continued and Theocratus thought that all he would have to protect was his family. It turned out that he was recalled to the Kul Tiras upon their departure from the Alliance. Theocratus was never a hardcore loyal subject to humanity but he figured his children had grown, so it was time to return to the adventure and danger. The Kul Tiras sailed across a great sea to a far distant land, but still the same enemies. The native trolls were a tough enemy; they were wild, fearless and cruel.

In time, the situation was under control and Theocratus was now forty three years old, and a respected member of the Kul Tiras. Age seemed to have no effect on his courage and energy. He was not of high standing or rank, but he was known as an experienced soldier and sailor. His superiors were often a few years younger than he and they all took his advice into account. He was later put in charge of a special organization focusing on having a place for veterans in the Kul Tiras. The special band of nautical warriors was highly respected and used often in battle.

All seemed well for Theocratus until the Orcs of his nightmares returned and he was forced engage in combat with them once more. The Orcs allied with the trolls that the Kul Tiras had beaten down upon it's arrival, and they began to recover. The battles continued and it seemed that the fighting would never end. The Orcish Warchief Thrall was near unstoppable, and the Orcs succeeded in establishing themselves in the new land.

Theocratus left back for Lordearon after receiving news that a terrible evil had swept across the land; and the prince of the kingdom himself was dealing with it alongside the great Uther. Theocratus heard of Uther's power as a paladin but he had never seen a paladin before. Theocratus retuned home to a dead and rotting land. Andorhal was in ruin with bodies strewn across the streets.

Theocratus found the dismembered bodies of his wife and two children. He stayed with them for a while, but soon found he was not alone. Drawn to him, a number of undead surrounded his house and began to climb in. Theocratus knew what happened here and he became a flurry of rage. He slew all the undead and in the meantime escaped with the bodies of his family. He buried them not far into the forest.

On Theocratus and the Midland Warriors: “Damn boy! How can you manage to destroy every ounce of trust I have in you?” Alistair gathered up his robe and stumbled over to the fire pit. The night was fair and the wind had completely stopped. The only sound was Alistair peeing into the fire and breathing like a cow.

“Alistair, will you allow me to come on the next job?”

“Possibly, maybe you can show me that you aren't completely useless.” Alistair let down his robe and turned standing over Theocratus. “Dont worry about it too much boy. Once Leofel and the others return we will decide together what is best to do with you.”

Theocratus put his head in his hands and began to cry; he was responsible for the death of a member. This act should have resulted in his immediate banishment, but they decided to hold a council and determine his fate. A lucky draw for Theocratus because they could not afford to loose another warrior.

“Get up wretch, here they come now.”

Three horseman emerged from the darkness rose up into the camp. They leaped from their horses and landing not far from where Theocratus sat. In the shadows they were terrifying figures with horned helms , spiked armor and animal furs.

“Alistair, fetch water.” One of the men raised his arm and Alistair ran off to his master's command.

The two new arrivals looked at each other and then one of them stepped back and slowly walked off into a nearby tent. The remaining man then turned and his face was lit by the fire only making him look more fierce. Slowly approaching Theocratus he removed his helm and unfastened his blade, leaving them behind. He sat at the other end of the fire and glared deep into Theocratus' eyes and soul.

“Theocratus. You're dead to me unless you can complete one final task. One task that may kill you, and may earn you the respect of eternity.” The man grabbed a hot char from the fire and held it out to Theocratus.

He did not even twitch from the pain nor did he loosen his grip. Theocratus met his hand and immediately cringed and jerked his head downward.

“Theocratus. By this you swear to release the men held prisoner by the Troll King, Zenzab. If you do not return, then that is the way of things. If you do, however, you will be redeemed.” The man stood and began to move towards the tent.

“Leofel, your brother...I am sorry...”

Leofel paused and looked over his shoulder shaking his head.

“No Theocratus, I was supposed to be there. I was too late and you were too weak."

On Theocratus and the First War: “Forget your fear! Forget your pain! Remember those that love you, those that you are protecting! Now is the time to face our enemy, now is the time to fight, fight for Lordaeron! Fight for Humanity!” The captain lunged his sword forth signaling the charge and the men clad in their armor sprang forth and set pace towards the slope of the distant hill. Far on the hill the banner of the Blackrock rose and soon after many Orcs came over the hill enraged, roaring and sprinting toward the forces of men. The men charged onward, and with valiant cries and eyes full of courage, they met the Orcish horde with a clash that shook the ground.

The battle raged and many a enemy fell on both sides. The forces of men rallied each other in one great push into the center of the Orcs. The spear head attack split the force and the men surrounded their enemy. Theocratus took the front line position after the death of his comrade in front of him. He fought off the Orcs with his brothers at his side and his sword in hand. His friends and allies died around him and more came forth to keep up the fight. It lasted hours as the endless waves of Orcs came over the hill down into the killing field. The advantage of the men was failing under the sheer numbers of Orcs.

“This fight is hopeless!” A man screamed and as he turned to flee an arrow pierced his back. The captain who was much taller than most men pushed up to the front line. The Orcs had moved back a ways and were beginning to regroup.

“Men of Azeroth! The Orcs fall back but they wil-” A volley of arrows came from behind the Orc forces and the men raised their shields, some were to late and received mortal wounds. Theocratus received three on his shield and the man next to him was hit in the neck. Theocratus' heart pounded and he looked through his narrow helm slit up the hill at the swarming Orc horde.

“That's enough! Form line! Prepare to charge!” The captain unsheathed a great sword from his back dropping his shield. All the men gathered at his flanks. He looked down the line at the men's faces griping his weapon tight. He began the charge forward with his sword extended. “Charge!” The men charged forth up the hill towards where the Orcs were regrouping. A volley of arrows came again, taking out men mid stride, but they kept charging forth with blood in their voices and fire in their souls. They clashed atop the mound hitting the Orcs with full power. The captain stood in front hacking and gracefully dispatching Orcs left and right. Theocratus was not far from him holding an Orc behind his shield and stabbing wildly with his other hand. A large Orc came rushing up from the back, a banner fastened to his back.

“Lok'tar ogar!” he cried and he engaged the captain in single combat. Every man who attempted to aid the captain was quickly killed, and the same went for the Orcs. The two fought as the war raged around them. Theocratus retreated back from the heat of the battle to catch his breath, then he moved up back to the front right next to the duel. The Orcs were cheering their warrior on, and the men could do nothing but hold them back.

The Orc warrior roared out a battle shout and attacked the captain, disarming him and lunging his long blade into his chest. The men in close proximity that saw the events that unfolded began to falter and turn back.

“Wait brothers! Do not flee! Fight! Fight! Onward!” Theocratus took up the sword of the fallen captain and lead a third charge into the Orcs. The vigor and fanaticism of the men was great and they began to kill the Orcs in greater numbers. As the numbers of the Orcs declined, so did those of the men. The great battle was now fought on flesh and not ground.

The battle slowed and the men found that once the blood haze cleared they were standing victorious upon the hill, and the few Orcs that remained fled. Theocratus, sat on both knees with his sword planted in the chest of the Orc warrior that had killed the captain. He slowly stood and turned to his remaining brothers raising his sword into the air.

"Victory!"