Mourun Whisperfoot (lovingly nicknamed "Raven")
Spiritually Altered Skullsplitter Troll
Warrior (big-shield footman)
Herbalism, Alchemy (Bad bad BAD, do NOT accept his potions...i still have nightmares about that cat)
Stranglethorn's northern mountain range
Zangarmarsh of Draenor
Mourun is unnaturaly large, almost to the point of unsetteling - nearly 9.5 feet tall - dwarfing even the most prominent figures of the horde. His muscles bulge beneath his armor, and his tusks grow long from his stern face. A huge ray of bristly raven black hair rises from his scalp. Purple and white tattoos adorn his face, identifying him as a Skullsplitter. Mourun himself could care less about his appearance though - he just wants to protect those that he cares for. and his equipment proves it. Huge iron chains cover a lot of his armor, plates of steel, and thick leather under-armor make his hide nearly impenetrable. A gigantic shield, weighing nearly 100 lbs, is strapped to his back, and a knife nearly as long as a dwarf is tall hooked to his belt. Despite all of this equipment, Mourun moves effortlessly across through forests, constantly searching for something, yet being stealthy all the while. His strength has proven useful recently - a young troll blades-woman was injured badly, and Mourun has felt the need to care for her - whether carrying her in his arms to a bed to lay her head, or tossing approaching enemies out of the way. One more note: If you ever get to know him well enough, he may feel your worthy to see his most fascinating scar - his entire left arm, from the shoulder down, is made of wood - spinning in wheels and gears, with tiny bolts of iron keeping it together. Mourun himself hardly understands how this "arcanimechanical" appendage works, only how he got it.
Mourun's personality is...chaotic...when best. He seems to be fighting an inner battle between a vengeful soul, a lonely wanderer, and a kind protector. One of these always seems to be in control, depending on the situation. In battle, the vengance within his soul will rise and he will be nearly unstoppable by friend or foe alike. Within cities or groups of large quantities, he will try to blend in, hunching over, and trying not to be noticed - he seems to prefer being alone. But perhaps the most interesting is a personality seen very rarely in Trolls. That of a kind protector - upholding justice and nobility, and helping those he loves... This is most apparent when he is in or has recently been in contact with the druid Lleinaar, the rogue Ashtaar, or the warrior Kanuu.
Things have changed recently though. His inner war has been one - for the moment at least. He's finally beginning to show his true color as a proud and noble warrior, willing to lay his life on the line to uphold that which he sees right, not for gold or fame, but to know that those whom he helps will live on to see a better tomorrow.
The Whisperfoot Edit
A fair time ago, when the war between the Skullsplitters, and their enemies, the Bloodscalps raged on, a small sub-clan of Skullsplitters was assigned to take residence in the northern mountains, and train those whom lived among them to be fast of foot and quick of thought. Whisperfoot they were called. For twenty years, the Whisperfoot Tribe was trained in deadly arts of stealth, recon, and assassination. No one ever knew of their secret village. That was, until around twenty five years ago. Unknown to the inhabitants of Mal'Wist (The village of the Whisperfoot) the ogre's below had long known of their encroachment, and planned an attack. One such child in the village, was Mourun Whisperfoot, a direct descendant of the founding trolls, De'Laa and Zu'Kaer. The ogres came in the night, and slaughtered anyone they could find. Mourun managed to escape by hiding beneath one of the huts in a muddy dugout. After he emerged, he found his parents were both killed - One fed to croclisks, the other impaled on a tall tree. In fear, and sadness, he fled. He fled north, past the village, into the woods, and eventually to a hiding place in Elwynn. The mountains around what is called Northshire. For many years, more than he could remember, he lived there. Scavenging off of great spiders that climbed the hills, wolves, and the occasional track-lost human. And through those years, the spirits of life must have taken pity on the pitiful troll, and gifted him with unnatural strength and size, in order to survive. But one clouded foggy day, four or five years ago, Mourun heard a noise from atop his perch. He saw flames below, those of heavy torches. He descended to find a party of tauren that had been returning from a slaughtering of the alliance. Mourun was curious - Being of such isolated descent, he had never seen such magnificent beasts. Instead of trying to attack them, as they seemed less bloodthirsty than the humans, he crept closer to them, and followed them. After a short while, they discovered him, and welcomed him into their group with open arms. He had not been able to speak Orcish, and so, they could not discover much about him. They returned to stranglethorn, and Grom'gol, where the rest of the Tauren's tribe had set up shelter. There, a young woman of the tribe was given the task of healing Mourun. No words were spoken, and Mourun hardly even noticed her face. Little did he know that they would meet again. After the tribe was strengthened again, they took a ship back to Durotar, and the tribe said farewell to Mourun, saying that he should seek Orgrimmar, where there would be those whom could understand him. So he did. After a year or so of practices, he realized he could put his strength to good use. He took on a profession that would let him serve his new allies - The Horde.
The Mercenary Edit
Mourun learned that his attributes - immense strength, intimidating stature, and a knack for remorseless combat - would best be fitted to a Mercenary. No matter what the target is, a mercenary will destroy/capture it - Just depends on what the pay is. Many adventures he had, but a few were of particular interest. One of his first adventures was to the Barrens, where he began to hire his blade out to those whom had gold in their pouches.
A New Weapon Edit
A group of horde shamans whom worked to protect the elements of the realm found themselves outmatched by the careless acts of the Venture Co. Mourun was ordered to take to the camps in the mountains, and slay eight high ranking goblins. The pay was good, the targets were clear, and the hunt began. Two months he spent in the high peaks of Kalimdor, a pack of heads on his back for every camp he destroyed. Seven camps he had obliterated with his strength, but what awaited him in the eighth camp was too much. He found the leader protected by many many warriors, armed with steel-borne tubes that unleashed torrents of stone and fire upon his armor. Though he slayed them with ease, he found that they had backup - Three mechanical monstrosities with spinning blades and iron claws attacked him. The battle was long and fierce, and though Mourun was Strong, not even his blade could bring pain to these creatures born of steel and flame. They removed his left arm in combat, sawing it from his body. If not for his heightened abilities of strength and endurance, he would have never survived. As he tumbled down the mountainside, towards the shaman's camp, he began to doubt himself. He felt he was not worthy of helping the horde. And so, with such distrust for the world, just as the spirits gave him immense strength and bodily power, they made it so that his arm would never regrow until he proved himself worthy. As he stumbled into the camp, a passing group of goblins spotted him, so wounded and battered, and watched as the shamans could do nothing to help his arm. A very skilled apprentice of the goblins, a Tauren woman named "Shona" immediately began to think of a way to help. Two days of Mourun being unconscious, and her work was finished. As the shamans brought him out of his deathly sleep, Shona was there, watching over him. Seems he had temporarily forgotten about the wound, and reached his left hand up to his head to wipe off some sweat. He was shocked to see that he actually HAD a left arm at all. What had happened, was that Shona, with the help of the shamans, had infused the mechanical with the magical and the elemental, creating an "Arcanimechanical" appendage. Mourun learned that even more strength was to be found in this wooden construct, and that though it was wood, strong magics kept it nearly indestructible. The following day, he returned to the venture co. camp, and laid down his weapons. The vile goblins watched him from their steeds, and laughed. One charged forwards, and Mourun quickly moved his new hand up, and punched straight through the machine's motor, rendering it disabled. Calling on every bit of stength he had, he pulled of the limbs of the metal man, and began to destroy the remaining two. After that, the head of the eighth leader was easily aquired.
Look What The Druid Dragged In Edit
Several months after that, and many more contracts later, Mourun wandered into Mulgore to seek more work. Though he is ashamed to admit it, while he was wandering the plains, he was mistaken for one of the Venture Co. Hirelings by a group of drunken tauren, and was beat within an inch of his life. A nearby hunter and his daughter heard the commotion, and came to his aid. They brought him back to their home, and nursed him to health. Though the hunter did not admit it, he had seen the troll once before. The hunter was one of the leading members of the party that had brought Mourun to Kalimdor. Mourun left shortly after, saying that he was feeling quite better by now - But in truth, he left due to Uncomfortability. Apparently, a second daughter to the hunter than the one whom helped find him, a druid, was always sitting in the shadows, staring at Mourun with curious eyes. It was none other than the young woman whom healed his wounds and comforted him when they returned to Grom'Gol, Lleinaar.
An Unexpected Meeting Edit
Mourun and Lleinaar refuse to release exact details, but it was a few years later until they met again. In the southern reaches of Kalimdor, Mourun fought the swarms of creatures known as Silithids in Un'goro and Silithus. As the days passed, nothing of interest happened, until...Well. He was lowering the numbers of their drones at the mouth of an unnamed hive, when Mourun saw Lleinaar sitting undaunted at the gateway. He heard a terrible roar from behind her. Mourun soon found out why. A gargantuan Silithid lumbered out, spitting acid at Lleinaar and bellowing in hunger. With a few quick moves, Mourun positioned himself between the advancing beast and the druid, and quickly subdued it, sending it moaning in pain back to its lair, where it later died of its wounds. This sparked a friendship between Lleinaar and Mourun that bordered on family - Sister and Brother if you will. Lleinaar and Mourun are often found at each others side, and they work together in combat flawlessly. Mourun taking the punishment from the great beasts, and Lleinaar mending his wounds with nature-borne powers.
A Path Presents Itself Edit
Mourun had made a name for himself as a fierce warrior, and his shield was one sought after by many a being. His attributes all melded together into the perfect defender. One whom brings honor to any whom take up the shield. But, just as he was getting settled in as being called "hero" a tragic incident occurred. The Dark Portal began to stir, and demons began to pour out of it. Mourun was selected as an elite by Nazgrel himself to serve as a captain within the Horde's military settlement - Thrallmar. Excited as he was, Mourun booked passage to the Eastern Kingdoms, to report to the insurgence group at the portal. Once there, the group quickly made their way through the portal, only to find the masses of demons that awaited them. Mourun was for the first time in many years, afraid. So many of his commrades were slain by the marauding agents of evil, but two months passed, and Thrallmar was Established. Mourun was released of his duty, Nazgrel claiming that his theories in combat were unsafe. Mourun had said that if he wants to take a fireball to the shoulder to save a peon's hide, then by thrall he'll do so. He was given an honorary Wyvern, and a horde insignia, and told to be on his way. A year or so passed, and the world of Outland saw many new outposts and villages, new enemies, and new allies. One such day, when Mourun was making his way across the tattered land on his Wyvern, he saw a trolless...
...The rest of that story is noted at the bottom of this page. As for his past, all that can be said so far is that Mourun has since retired his title of Mercenary for a more permanent occupation - The Lover of Ashtaar of Zul'Kanda.
Let Sleeping Goddess' Lie Edit
It's a recent issue. Mourun played himself on his suspicion and obsession for Ashtaar, and lost her through his own selfish stupidity. He walked out on her, believing she was having an affair behind his back... He's broken now, because after that he tore away his pride and begged forgiveness, but she would hear nothing of it. The Hero, turned to dust. He would let her go only in the most recent of days, when an assult against the elves went awry, and he lost the use of both his hands. He'll never lift a sword again...
Family No family members alive. Mother (De'laa) disembowled by Mosh'ogg ogres, and fed to the Crocolisks. Father (Zu'kaer) impaled at stomach with Mosh'ogg ogre spear, and thrown into the bark of a tall tree as a message to any enemies of the Mosh'ogg clan.
Relations with Allies: Sees Lord Kanuu (the Risen) as "Heart-brother" or most trusted friend. Sees Ashtaar (Unholy Alliance) as his responsibility to protect, ever since an incident involving a deep wound that nearly killed her. Sees Lleinaar as "Partner-In-Crime" as the two fight alongside each other often and know each others tactics by heart. Recently, Mourun has discovered that he's slowly falling in love with Ashtaar the rogue. Even more recently, he admitted it. The two are now in a deeper relationship than a protector and wounded. Much deeper.
Ashtaar "No' fo' two lon' decades 'ave i eva' been so enthralled by de' compassion an' kindness o' oddas. No' till i met ma Lady Ash." His trust is well placed. He had come across her and a group of other powerful beings as they hunted demons within the endless fiery plains of Outland. He saw that the group was having troubles, and so flew down, sword drawn, to aid them. In celebration of their victory, Ashtaar and Kanuu left for a nearby post - Mourun followed, unsure of why he did. He knows now it was destiny. That night, Kanuu accidentally injured the monstrous troll, and a battle-hardened Ashtaar was there to fix his wounds. They seemed to connect at that point, and Mourun found himself repaying the deed not two days later, in the southern forests. The over-zealous Firewing elves were closing in around the rogue, and though she was more than capable of handling her self, she was caught of guard, and received a heavy fel-infused energy blast to her chest. Mourun somehow came across her, and without a second thought, picked her up, and bounded through the forest, desperately trying to keep her awake, and away from what would have been her death. As they reached Stonebreaker, Mourun would realize that this girl was none other than Ashtaar, the one he had met a few days ago. He would also realize that he needed to protect her. They went on traveling together for several days after. This responsibility even made Mourun rethink about learning Alchemy, as it'd be useful to tend to Ashtaar's wounds. Suffice to say, its been very useful, for both of them. But, let me continue. After she had healed, and Ashtaar had caught an ear of what Mourun called his "Home away from home," the two trolls found themselves heading for the mountain's of Northshire, and Elwynn. Upon the quiet stony hills and cliffs, they sat, and many things were said. One of the final things said that evening was by Mourun. He had realized this after a week or so of traveling with Ashtaar, knowing her more and more, deeper and deeper, secrets revealed, interests unearthed..."I love you." The two had been together for a long time... But as stated before, the relationship was not to be.
Everyone wants to be Mourun. But very few are tall enough.