Name: Mutig Von-Klink (an assumed name, the original holder is presumed dead, Kaldorei Druids, Huntresses and Priestesses older than 750 years may remember him as the druid Citaloprian Autumnfriend)
Age: 10,347 (by human standards he would appear to be a rather well preserved 45)
Class: Rogue (Reconnaissance Element, 3d Cavalry Squardron, 54th Stormwind Brigade of Guards)
Mutig would just as often prefer not be seen as seen. He generally cares little about his personel appearance as it is not entirely conducive to what he does. Virtually never out of field uniform, he is mostly seen clad in the worn and utilitarian leathers of a Stormwind Cavalry scout. When not in the field, he wears these per regulation, ensuring his tabard and jib sit straight and all his belts and buckles are centered and tucked. He could easily be confused for just another Stormwind Cavalry scout were it not for his heavily sinewed 7' 6" 315lbs (2.30m, 140kg) frame and enourmously long lilac colored ears. When in the field, the uniform becomes more complicated with additional belts and pouches covering his body. Straps tie down loose items that could create sounds that would give away his position. Large heavy duty pouches sit on his hips, buttocks, abdomen and back. Thick leather straps are appended to these to ensure they stay close to the body and creating an abridged load bearing equipment system. A pair of large machettes of Hakkari of Zulian design are strapped to his back just beneath the large backpack and bedroll in which he sticks tall grass, branches, and leaves to act as theater-specific camoflauge. As of late, he has taken to weilding a pair of robust fighting knives probably more a decision to cut down on hang-ups in the treacherous terrain of the Outlands. Slung on the back, similarly tied down tight and covered in a buckskin scabard is a marksman rifle of Dwarvish design. Topped with a Steam Wheedle 1.5-3x scope, it makes up the long range component of his arsenal despite the fact he rarely uses it. Along with a hachet, skinning knife, flints, two powder horns, and a collapsable mining pick, Mutig also carries the food and provisions he needs for protracted stays in the field. He is rarely encountered without a large black shemagh wrapped around his head and face. If one is to get close enough, they will notice that at the corners of his eyes small crows feet mar the otherwise smooth skin. The only other sign of his age are the tendrils of grey that are sneaking into his otherwise indigo hair at the temples. If one is sly, and most likely unfortunate, enough to encounter him at any point unclothed, they will immediately be struck by the fact that horrible and freshly created scars cover the majority of his body. Of course, catching him like this would likely result in the death or at least maiming of the unfortunate passer-by. The genesis of these scars does not seem readily appearant but are ordered and pervasive enough to indicate systematic torture at some point in the recent past.
Citaloprian was born just before the first invasion of the burning legion. His mother and father lived in a small cottage just south east of the Timbermaw hold where they had garnered the respect of the indegenous Furbolgs. Desyrl Autumnfriend, a woodsman and fletcher of some reknown, saw Citaloprian as his pride and joy, caring little that the child took more after his mate Temesta, an apothecary. In his youth, he was an affectionate and caring Kaldorei with a proclivity for nature. Indeed, the youth could almost will things to grow faster, larger, and hardier. Four years after the birth of Citaloprian, his brother Larazaprill was born and two years there-after a sister, Vestra. While Desyrl cared deeply for his eldest, it was Larazaprill who seemed most like his father, sharing many of the same features and a propensity towards forestry and the skills of a trapper and woodsman. It was this tendency and his golden eyes that first brought him to the attention of Malfurion Stormrage whose growing druidic following sought those who display a talent for the ways of nature to join. As a young druid, Citaloprian reveled in the wonders of nature and the magic latently containted there-in. The whole time, Malfurion was quietly guiding and cultivating his druids into an army whereby the arcane corruption of the Highborne could be negated or combated if necessary. Gradually, Malfurion eased Citaloprian away from the arts of life through nature and began to teach him the arts of death. The young Kaldorei found that nature was perhaps the harshest judge any would ever face; through its power he learned to call down the fury of the heavens, to bring up the wrath of the earth, and to harness the rage of the beasts to slay those that sought to defile the earth. Though he learned these skills readily, his heart was still soft and he eschewed these teachings preferring to spend his time communing with nature to honing his skills as a druidic warrior.
Then the legion came. Citaloprian stood along side his druidic brethren as they attempted to stem the tide of the hell born demons, and finally gave into the feral call deep in his soul. Lashing out in the form of both bear and cat he ripped into the demons with rabid bloodlust. Only when Malorne was felled by Archimonde was he given pause. Realizing that he had given into the demon bloodlust he shifted from the form and fled to the forests even as Malfurion Stormrage drove back Archimonde. In the woods he was haunted by a continued desire for slaughter as the demon blood he had injested durring the battle burned at his inards. Wild with fear over what he had become and the demon madness he drank long from the pools in the forest, trying to put out the fire inside him. It was at this point, it is believed, Elune ministered to him. Believing that Elune had come to one of the followers of her son Cenarius' beliefs, to ease their pain and fear, Citaloprian suddenly was filled with a great love for the moon goddess. Returning from the forest to the other druids, he told Malfurion of his epiphiny. The druidic order may be cloistered, but it must maintain some contact with the rest of Kaldorei society through the Temple of the Moon only in this way, could Kaldorei society keep the balance it needed and avoid the tempations of arcane power. Malfurion, whose own mate was a priestess of Elune, grudgingly ascented to this and allowed Citaloprian to become a laison between the Temple and the Druids. At this time, Citaloprian came to love Elune, not just as a follower or worshiper, but in a nigh romantic way, believing that he could one day become her consort if he willingly gave himself over in the fullness of his spirit. For millenia he worked towards this end, trying to clense his spirit of anything that might be unpleasent in her sight so he could go be one with her. But always, in his mind, he could hear Elune demand more sacrifice. How could he fully love her if he did not know what love was? It was durring this time that he became the consort of a seasoned huntress, Kaela Winddancer. Kaela viewed the druid as a diversion and trinket she could show-off. As both a druid and connected with the temple as he was, Citaloprian was a fine status symbol and his youthful handsomeness was an added bonus. Citaloprian did not love Kaela and it is argued that she did not love him anymore than one does a prized object. He became frustrated and depressed and felt his connection to Elune drift further and further away as his druid abilities began to further awaken. Finally, in defeat, he realized he must go and become one with nature again to purge himself and thereby become ready again to meditate on becoming one with Elune. Shortly before leaving his post, he spent a final night with Kaela that would result in the conception of triplets.
Citaloprian entered the Emerald Dream unknowing that Kaela carried three children and began to return to the fundamentals that had defined his early life as a druid. Durring centuries of meditation, he came to understand that the entire Kaldorei way of life had become subject to the whims of Elune. A bitterness began to grow in him as he contemplated her fickle treatment of him, teasing him and his desires. Through time, he was eventually able to suppress the anger and resentment. If Elune had led him on...so be it. He was first and foremost a Kaldorei and that alone lay upon him a duty he must discharge. Around the time his meditations grew to an end, the Burning Legion once again invaded Kalimdor. Unlike the past, other younger races had been pulled into the fray. Citaloprian watched in horror as the forces of the Alliance and Thrall's Horde threw soldiers into the grinder of the Burning Legion. The slaughter was beyond anything he had ever seen or experienced. The first war paled in comparison. Watching men, orcs, dwarves, and elves as they lay dying, ripped to shreds or burned to a crisp, or sundered to their very soul by dark magic, he cried out to Elune to ease their pain. Through days of battle, he implored the Goddess to intervene, to stop such wasteful death and destruction. Had not the powers of Cenarius and Malorne given Malfurion the power to defeat Archimonde once? How much more powerful must Elune have been. Finally, just before the destruction of the World Tree, his faith broke. He pulled off the raiment of a druid and threw it to the ground, renouncing his devotion to Elune and his following of the path of Cenarius. Taking up swords he moved through the woods, hunting down servents of the legion whom he might slay.
When it was finally all over, the world tree was destroyed, Hyjal was a wasteland, and his people had become mortal. Citaloprian looked to the younger races and realized that they alone were the hope for the future of the earth...but they were not yet ready for the duty, and they needed to be counciled and taught, not by haughty overlords, but rather the way he had been taught. Traveling south to Theramore, he gained passage on a ship to Southshore on the coast of Hillsbrad. There he wandered, unable to find a reason or place among the warry human society. Having only the most rudimentary grasp of the common tongue and being ignorant of the customs of the region, he was an oddity and was often shunned. To a people that had only seen the slighter fair complected High Elves, this tall, powerfully built, lilac fleshed being with glowing eyes was bizzare and somewhat frightening. West he travelled past the ruins of Dalaran and into the Silverpine Forest. Durring his time in the ravaged lands of Silver Pine he came across the manor of Duke Joquiam Von-Klink. The addled Duke believed that the errant Citaloprian was his lost son Mutig. Mutig Von-Klink, a knight of Lorderon, had fought against the scourge in Anderhol and was presumed slain durring the battle. Given their loyalty to their now mad Duke, the servents that had doggedly remained at his side even as Silver Pine began to become overrun by the remnents of the scourge, convinced the confused Kaldorei to take up the roll to help sooth the ailing old man who spent his days looking to the road for his son to ride home on his paint-horse charger. So did Citaloprian adopt the name of Mutig, spending his days in the walled manor, learning of the history and customs of his new people. For three years Citaloprian became less and less of the druid he once was and more and more the alliance soldier, Mutig. Under constant harrassment from the worgen and mindless undead creatures that skulked the northern end of the region, the manor became a new training ground for Mutig. The druidic ways of the root and claw were soon replaced with the scout's skills of stalking, camoflage, and ambush. Finally, in his third year in Silver Pine, Duke Joquiam Von-Klink succumbed to the illness that had eaten slowly away at him for years. Taking the signet of the family Von-Klink and escorting the remaining servents and families to Hillsbrad, Mutig set off to begin his life as an alliance soldier.
The following three years were wrought with conflict as Mutig developed his skills further and found his position in the alliance military. Numerous crisises have come and past since that time and Mutig has developed a reputation both among his peers and the enemies of the alliance. In the years since his time in Silver Pine, Mutig has come to understand that the actual Mutig Von-Klink was not dead...per se. He lived on as a forsaken warrior, knowing he could never return to his home. Mutig has vowed to one day find the undead warrior and deliver to him his dead father's signet. On that day Mutig vowes he will disavow the name Von-Klink and hence forth be called Silberfohre which is "Silver Pine" in the Von-Klink ancestral tongue. However, with the opening of the Dark Portal, Mutig's attention has been on stemming the tide of the Burning Legion and investigating the machinations of the Illidari. Mutig has recently resurfaced from a three month disappearance and seems to be more driven than ever. Few understand his current motivations and why he seems so much more aggressive and ruthless since his disappearance with the possible exception of a Kaldorei Priestess he has oft been seen speaking with in Stormwind.
Traits of noteEdit
Mutig speaks with a heavy Alterec inflection similar to that in the speach of Dalarans and natives of Silver Pine. He tends not to speak in Darnassian but can do so with a mild accent suggesting heavy contact with the Timbermaw tribe. Mutig doesn't fidget, but often is fiddling with his gear, making sure items are placed and correctly secured. His bandages are always wound in a counter clock-wise direction and he cordons items in his bags with ridiculous meticulousness. He shows a fondness for pets and small animals and when he is not on duty can often be seen with one of any number of cats, a gopher, a wolf pup, a snowshoe rabbit, or a young falcon.
RP: Mostly in character in spatial, tends to be crass and cynical
PvP: Whenever the mood is upon me, mostly world PvP in Halaa et cetera. Would be willing to try out for Arena position if given the opportunity.
PvE: The bread-and-butter of my usual day
Raid: At whatever juncture I am invited, normally as a PuG member. I raid casually and don't consider it a driving force in my form of the game. I don't obssess over raiding.
Player OOC notes: I will NOT respond to In Character tells or group/raid chat, if you consistently contact me In Character through private means, I will put you on ignore...your hearth stone does not give you telepathy. I will not respond to in character chat in public channels.