"You understand what you've got to do?" seeing a nod from the hooded figure, the captain looked out over the brow of the hill. "Good, because if you mess this up then the whole advance is going to go to put. So don't mess it up." The Captain went to look back to the figure from the ramparts but they had already disappeared. "Light be with us.." The Captain muttered as he moved from the darkness of the hill and back down to his regiment.
The field of No man's Land was ripe from the bodies of the last battle, Orcs, Dwarves, Humans all lay as lifeless as the other, scattered remains that had barely even been begun to be picked apart by the carrion birds circling high above. Holding back a wretch, the cloaked figure slowly made his way through the maze of corpses, his nose wrinkling more at the smell of excrement than the rot that had just begun to set in. Under the cover of darkness the figure had chance to move through the remnants of the battle unhindered. His concern mostly being distracting any of the braver carrion birds that would come down to feast.
A grunt came from the figures left, causing him to freeze. Looking to his left a Dragonmaw Orc clutched a spear impaled into it's gut. It had seen the hooded man and was trying to alert any of the nearby outposts, at the cost of it's own lifeforce, or rather blood carousing from it's lips. The hooded figure quickly scurried over the to the helpless Orc, and threw his weight onto the beast, making sure to not try and cause the beast to scream. After a quick tustle with the dying beast, the figure slipped out his boot knife. He launched down a headbutt to the Orc, dizzying himself more, before driving the blade into the soft flesh underneath the chin. Ramming the blade home, the figure twisted twice before rolling off the beast and presuming the play dead position.
The figure looked up from his position, seeing the flickers of flames from the outpost ahead... The supply outpost. With a sigh the figure checked himseld. "Well.. Here goes nothing.." he muttered to himself before crawling forward once more.
Name: Victairian Loghain
Place of Birth: Elwynn
Alignment: Neutral Good
Height: 6’2” / 189 cm
Weight: 224 lbs / 101 kg
Hair: Light Brown
Victairian was born to a farmstead family near the border of Elwynn and Westfall. To a father who served in local militia and a mother who worked milking the cows. The boy was never anything special and was forced to work with his mother from an early age. At the age of five Victairian heard screaming one morning. Looking out from the barn he saw large, brutish green creatures charging through Westfall. The boy screaming himself for his mother was scooped up and carried away as his mother took him and ran. The boy looked back to the farm as his mother ran with him, the beasts cutting human and animal apart and setting fire to the barn.
Making it finally to Stormwind, Victairian and his mother were put into a queue as thousands of people had fled to the city, fortunately, Victairian's father spotted the two and crept them in just as the Orcs charged into the backs of the waiting civilians. Victairian and his mother moved quickly through the city resorting to hiding in the sewers, moving and moving they eventually came out to the harbour, and boarded one of the ships escaping up north.
Lordaeron and Back Again
Victairian, lucky with his life and mother, made it to the lands of the North, Lordaeron. Like refugees of any sort they were bundled into small camps to try and accommodate them. The boy was too confused to even realise his father had gone, instead an older man took Victairian and his mother under his wing, providing for the two as if they were his own, to Victairian's confusion. The main began to teach the young boy to fend for himself, even at a young age. How to fight, how to kill if necessarily, but this was all lost to the boy, who could not even understand death, but he was taught regardless.
Victairian eventually had grown into a young man, his training having paid off, but his mentor now being older himself and unable to do much. News had begun to spread across the refugees that the dead were rising from their graves, and even worse.. The alive were losing their minds like the undead.
The Orcs however were pushed back, and word of Stormwind being rebuilt, whilst causing a disruption in the Alliance, meant that Victairian, his mother and the now frail man who had looked after them could return home. It was no easy toil though. Victairian being of an age, was put to work in rebuilding the city. Toiling away for no cost but than to rebuild his homeland. And when that was done, the payment was not delivered. The workers of the city were cast away, including Victairian.
Angered by such, and at a young age, the male soon came part of the Defias. His seething resentment that this city had lost him his home, his father, and now the money to provide for his mother and adoptive father, caused him to be part of the rebellion.
The man was more hot in the head than skilled however, even after years with the Defias, after the Third war he was caught by the authorities. For weeks he was locked away, beaten and waterlogged, but the male held his tongue to revealing the location of those who had took him in.
A couple more days and a male who Victairian did not recognise came to him. Spoke fairly, without violence to the man. Offered him a deal. Victairian was now 25, and his loyalty to the Defias was wavering after seeing their acts turning into just bandits.
He became an informant.
Victairian worked with the official to rat out Defias locations, in return for his freedom and a small pay to look after his mother. After taking down small pockets of Defias holdings, the man offerred Victairian a more permanent place. Whilst not saying where, he was taken to a group of Humans he had never met before, not many words were spoken, apart from when training him vigorously. Sneaking, making weapons, traversing landscapes, subterfuge, sabatouge and murder.
Eventually it was revealed where Victairian was. He was taken into a room, made to vow an oath.
He was part of SI:7
Over the years, Victairian worked in various places in aid of the Alliance. In Outland, he worked with a small commando group to try and impede the efforts of the Horde there, so the Alliance could get the upper hand. In Northrend, he worked once more with making the Horde suffer by taking out their supply lines and destroying checkpoints. In the Cataclysm, Victairian was in the Twilight Highlands, aiding the Wildhammer Dwarves in fighting against the Dragonmaw Orcs. In Pandaria, he was taken to the Landfall, aiding in the efforts of culling down the Horde forces and outposts, and stopping them from pushing to the Alliance front.
And now, in Draenor, Victairian is about to be attached to a company of soldiers. His identity known, but his work not. He is to aid the group in any sabotage and behind the lines efforts.
Victairian is quite a tall male, his body and his build reveals to one of a strict training regime of health and fitness. He is not as broad as some would think, but he is well defined with more mass developed round his legs and arm/shoulder region. He is rather pale, never really one to sport any sort of a tan. He sports a rather impressive and thick handlebar moustache and full beard, already flecking with some grey hair.
The facial features of Victairian are rugged and masculine, his complexion rough and almost aging now. Small scars litter over his face, and if looking closely (And his eyepatch is not on) it is possible to see that one of eyeballs is now replaced by a glass sphere whilst his other eye is a misty grey in appearance.
- Posts : 4
Join date : 2014-06-28
Age : 23
Location : Worcestershire
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