Race: Human, well Half.. It's a Long Story.
Talent: Duel Wielding Maces
Professions: Enchanting / Jewelcrafting
Eyes: Hazel Green
Weight: 185 Lbs.
Home-realm: The Scryers
Garments/Armor: Leather, stitched together from the flesh and hide of various ghouls and geists around Azeroth.
The Story of Carthrolas; Survivor of Stratholme
See, Carthrolas was born early in the Age of the War on the Scourge. Being born in Stratholme, He had lived out His childhood in happiness and a wonder for Adventure, But that had all changed when His Father and Mother had fallen very ill one Day. It was minor cough at first glance, but after only a few Hours, He had watched as it had worsened their condition since the last time He had seen them; His Father's face had been covered with sores and Mother's arms and neck were covered in bruises from the unexplainable symptoms of the Scourge Plague. City Officials had ordered that He no longer live with his Parents until the symtoms had been further studied, so He had slept over His best Friend's House for that night on the Outskirts of Stratholme. As He had been leaving through the city streets and reached outside the walls, He could hear almost every person in town coughing, some even gasping for air. A truely horrible fear had begun to grow in Carthrolas' mind.
When He had awoken next Morning, the Morning sun was glowing a shade of crimson red, and the usual hustle and bustle of Stratholme had grown into complete silence. Even the house He was in had been evacuated, aside from the small worg His Friend had kept as a companion and Himself, everyone had left Him there alone in the darkness. Peeking out of the window at his home-land of Stratholme, He had been strucken speechless as to what He had saw next; his childhood home swarming with Undead, as far as the eye can see in every direction, Ghouls and unspeakable Abominations that would not Hesitate to devour the Life of any living thing to cross their Path. Seeing the very soil and walls of the city painted red with Blood, Carthrolas had then realized that that He had been the only surviving Citizen of His home-land left that had not been afflicted with the Plague. But why Him?
A knock on the door startles Him, bolting down the stairs He had rushed to the door and peeked out to see a Man standing in black robes and a hooded mask with dark markings on parts of his face that were visible, accompanied with a lone Geist by his side, claws dripping with the Blood of his People; Their intent had looked sinister and ill, so he had refused to open the door. Carthrolas goes back upstairs to hide in the room and slams the door shut, only to find the robed Man standing right behind Him. Trapped and mortified, He is frozen with fear. The Man grins wickedly and raises his hand towards him, a spell from his hand had released a spark of black energy; making Carthrolas' vision begin to blacken until he was no longer conscious.
In His state of darkness, He could feel His body being moved around, dropped, and stabbed numerous times. He awakens, covered in Blood and gash wounds, locked in a cage far within a Castle of some sort. His awareness brings the attention of a Skeleton Guard standing guard by his cell. He examines Carthrolas for a moment and exclaims, "THE MEAT- SACK HAS AWOKEN!" The Guard then walks into the other Chamber for a short time before coming back, this time with the hooded Man He had seen moments before losing conscious.
Enraged, He picks up a bone lying within His cell and throws it with all of His might at man through the Cell Bars. He dodges the bone, but the Skeleton Guard behind him being less fortunate, gets the Skull knocked right off of his shoulders. The man Laughs at the situation and the Guard picks his Head back up and places it back on his shoulders and with a Spiteful tone says, "Just wait, Fleshling... Ner'Zhul with have his way with you, THEN we shall see who has the last laugh." The Guard then storms out of the room, slamming the door behind it and leaves you to speak with the Man.