He has a great interest in the culinary arts as well as books and history, especially history as it pertains to trolls. He has a mercenary outlook on the world, he'll do almost anything if the price is right. He regards snakes wih reverence. He keeps jewelry and adornments to the barest minimum (why give your opponent things to latch onto) and his hair sedately braided and out of the way (for the same reason)
Pack mates will observe that he speaks flawless and unaccented troll but when he chooses to speak orc he does so with a thick trollish accent most often with an impish grin and a mischevious sparkle in his eyes.
Klorel is pure Darkspear, his mother a priest, his father a warrior. He was born on the darkest of nights when no moons graced the starlit sky's in a small village. His aunt with hair as flame wrought as his little brothers', Martouf, himself and his parents, strange though they were, were the only family he knew. To his young and untroubled eyes life was grand, he always had a full belly, a welcoming lap to curl up in if he needed it, answers to his many questions and his constant companion/irritant with the flaming red hair, Martouf. What he didn't know was the troubles that were brewing outside his secure little village. Both parents were hearing the call of war, his father to fight, his mother to keep the fighters alive. He had a voracious appetite for knowledge which his mother and aunt occupied as best they could, with the help of the other scholars of the village, but he also had a strong aptitude to the warrior arts. Sadly both his parents saw his path long before he realized it and though they were sick at heart to know heir cubling would soon be on the front lines they hid it well showing only love and nurturing and not the worry they surely felt. The summons his parents had feared came one fateful afternoon and with brave faces they bid farewell to their cubling and friends and headed off, his aunt following close behind. Klorel was left in the care of the local shaman to continue his more academic and spiritual learning. As he grew, his parents kept in contact as best they could with him and his guardians, though at times it was few and far between. Time passed, he grew, he learned and he finally acknowledged his call in life beginning his studies along the warriors' path. Martouf had gone his own way some time earlier though Klorel's studies left him with little time to reflect and brood. Eventually their paths crossed again and as it was in childhood, they are constant companions both in battle and out.
A recent incident involving Night Elves has left him extremely untrustful and wary of them. He also has sworn off alchohol of any sort. ((if you wish to knwo more talk to him IC and see if you can coax the story from him))