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Falamorial Grimfield. [Blood Elven Blood Knight]
Player: Uguu

Character Full Name: Falamorial Grimfield

Character In-Game Name: Falamorial

Nickname(s): Buttons.

Association(s): The Alliance (Formally), Silvermoon, Blood Knights, The Horde, The Sin'dorei.

Race: Blood Elf

Class: Blood Knight (Paladin)

Skills and Abilities: Falamorial has spent nearly fifteen hundred years, practicing a large number of skills. He is a well tought cook, can craft things from simple clothing to complex armour and weapons, can clean and is well trained for combat. Usual abilties befitting a Blood Knight.

Age: 1,498

Sex: Male

Hair: White, past shoulder length. Some of it hangs in front of him, down to his coller bones.

Eyes: Fel-Green

Weight: 168 LBs (257, armoured)

Height: 6'1

Usual Garments/Armor: Clad in a standard, full-plate solid black and dark red armour, befitting a Blood Knight, with a matching cape hanging from his shoulders and down past his knees. A Blood Knight tabard is worn over the plated armour. When 'off-duty', he is typically seen wearing likewise black and dark red clothing, long sleeved shirts, dress shoes or boots, and a firm belt.

Other: Hardened with muscle, marred by deep scars, and a stern expression, Falamorial is easily guessed to have seen perhaps more than his fair share of combat. He is often seen with a sword. A long blade, sharp, and black in color. Small wrinkles around his nose and mouth, a squared jawline, and sometimes a cold frown lend to this man's imposing figure.

Alignment: Lawful Good

Personality: Falamorial is, at his best, a kind and respectful man. Often would he go out of his way to help his people and do good for his city, never expecting a reward. A man of character, dicipline, and duty, Falamorial has spent most of his life in service to his people, in one way or another. Always one to pick up the tab for a meal, happy to buy a lady a drink, or even just give a lonely person some company, Falamorial is a hard person to demoralize. Despite his steadfast dedication, his long years of military training, tours of duty, and losses in his life have hardened his outlook on the world. Faced with someone in need, Falamorial is often to first to give support, and the last to cut it off. Always trying to give his all for any and all goals, hellbent on seeing promises through to the end, it can take a great deal of effort to dissuade him. When confronted with a traitor, he often reacts aggressively, and usually violently.

At his worst, Falamorial can be violent, tempermental, and mercilessly cold hearted. Despite his best efforts to remain a force of good for his people, a life of hardships and war has drilled a sense of relentless retribution, at all cost. With the betrayal of both the Alliance and Kael'thas looming over him, Falamorial has lost every last ounce of tolerance for traitors, and pursues them with near reckless fury, hellbent on burning everything they hold dear. An extremely hateful racist, it is nigh impossible to see him tolerating almost anyone from the Alliance, and even the Forsaken, Trolls, and Orcs of the Horde are subject to his wrath, at times.

History: Born to a well off family, nearly fifteen hundred years ago, Falamorial began his life alongside his two brothers. Born just two hundred years after his older brother, and six years before the youngest of the three, Falamorial often found himself looking up to his older brother, just as his younger brother had. Growing up in Silvermoon, Falamorial began working rather early in life. Never a man to allow his children to neglect their education, Falamorial often found his father pushing him and his brothers harder and harder through their schooling. Every night they would come home from class, their father would sit them down in the study, and would tell old 'war stories' them the three of them. Despite the mother's objection to it, beliving they shouldn't have anything to do with such business, the father continued the family 'tradition'. Life was simple enough, with the oldest brother long since having gotten a job, teaching his younger brothers how to work was near child's play.

As the years began to drag on, with Falamorial finding work as a servent for a local noble house, as well as his younger brother. Despite the rudeness of their employer, the now somewhat 'grown' men, albeit still young by Elven standards, endured the work for the sake of money. Although the 'man of the house' was selfish and cold hearted, the mother seemed illsuited to him, always caring for others before herself. That fact made working at the House far easier, and caused the two brothers to work there for some time. When the three brothers got news that their mother was pregnant again, they quickly took leave of their work places to see to her support. When the pregnancy came to term, so did things take a turn for the worse. Both the mother and child dead during childbirth, it was little time before the father fell into a depression and took to alcohol. Their mother gone, and their father unable to even help himself, the three brothers were forced to maintain both their home and their own lives on their own.

Moving from job to job, from servent work to metal working, the brothers began to pick up an odd number of skills over the years. Finding his calling in life, the eldest of the brother later enlisted in Silvermoon's armed forces, and began his training soon after. Only a few more years would pass, before both Falamorial and the youngest would enlist as well. Not including the combat training, drills, and physical training, Falamorial found past earned skills rather useful in military life. Between learning how to move effectively in combat and in armour, how to parry and cut down a foe with a sword, Falamorial began to love his new life as a soldier. Although, due to assignment matters, the brothers rarely got to interact with one another. Despite the Elves' victory over the Amani Trolls, Falamorial and his brotehrs often found themselves facing them down at the odd skirmish, usually while on patrol. Collecting scars from fighting Trolls, and the odd mishap in practice, the years seemed to rather quickly glide along.

Somewhere along the way, Falamorial met a young, elven woman. Quite taken with her, the two of them spent much of their time together, whenever the man found himself spare time. Enjoyment brought on with their conversations kept the man going, even through the tiring workload of his line of work. She was even kind enough to nickname him "Buttons", stemming from the dozen or so buttons on his dress uniform. When the girl died of an illness, it struck the man rather harshly. Despite losing a woman he began to take a great deal of feelings for, he had little choice but to simply move on. After all, he had a job to do. Continued training with the armed forces proved a capable distraction, as well as exchanged letters between him and his brothers.

When Falamorial got word of the Orcs assault on Stormwind, and the start of the First war for that matter, he began mentally preparing himself for the possiblity of going to war. With the second war beginning years after, and the High Elves finally getting involved, Falamorial found himself shipped off to distant battlefields to fight the Orcs. No matter how short the Second war had lasted, or how much training the man had gone through, nothing prepared him for the savagery the Orcs had shown during the conflict. The constant moving with the front lines kept the man on edge, continued fighting the Orcs taking a heavy toll on him. One day, while he was stationed on guard duty at a camp near the front lines, Falamorial recieved a letter. The contents detailed that his younger brother had been killed in action. The war ended soon after. The news of his brother's death having driven the man into a murdereous hate for the Orcs, pushing through the conflict with a thirst for vengeance.

Having taken the brutalized body of their fallen brother back home to Silvermoon, the brothers mourned over their loss, as the body was laid to rest. Angry over the loss they endured, the brothers constantly made it a point that the Orcs should have been executed, not put into camps. Regardless, their outrage went unheard, and they were forced to simply learn to cope with this injustice. Having seen, first hand, how effective Paladins were in the war, both brothers soon recieved training in the ranks of the Order. As the years past, both brothers becoming skilled paladins, word got around that the Orcs had escaped from their camps. This only served to further anger the two of them, having already spoken out about this sort of thing. Again, they were ignored, albeit perhaps by less people this time around.

Still reeling from the loss of their dear little brother, even after years had past, the brothers were quick to jump at the chance for battle, when the Third war began. Eager to fight more Orcs, and to avenge their brother, the two of them were quick to re-enlist for further service. While they had hoped to have the chance to butcher some Orcs, they soon found themselves facing down the recently risen Undead, as the Scourge began its unholy crusade. With the war dragging on, Undead laying waste to everything that stood before them, the brothers were shocked when the Order of the Silver Hand was disbanded. Feeling isolated, powerless to stop the Scourge advance, the brothers fell back to Silvermoon with a recently devistated regiment of High elven infantry. Before they could even come to grips with the turn of events, suffering defeat after defeat along the way back home, the Scourge laid siege to Quel'thalas.

Hellbent on saving both their home and their people, Falamorial and his eldest brother threw themselves at the Undead horde in Silvermoon's defense. As the Scourge unleshed a wave of Ghouls, hacking their way through lines of Elven infantry and archer support, the brothers found themselves split off from one another. Falling back to the city itself, Falamorial took to the streets as the Undead poured in with seemingly unstoppable numbers. Utterly horrifed when the order to retreat was given, Falamorial found himself forced to abandon his home, watching as his world seemed to burn down around him. Along with dozens of scattered and devistated units from the armed forces, Falamorial found his people taking refuge in the forests, rushing to wherever they thought might hold shelter.

With the sudden destruction of the Sunwell, Falamorial began to feel nearly crippled from the lack of contact with the magical fountain. Moving from camp to camp, picking up stragglers along the way, Falamorial fell under the command of a recently promoted officer, as the Elves began launching counter attacks, albeit with little success, to retake their city. When news that his older brother had been killed in action, during the siege, Falamorial began to slip into a depression. Refusing to allow this, and needing every capable sword, his commanding officer had multiple talks with him. Turning his loss to hate and rage, Falamorial set himself loose on the Undead in the area, mercilessly hunting them down everywhere he went. Soon enough, the city was finally retaken, Falamorial on scene as Elven troops stormed the Undead.

Still reeling from his brothers' deaths, the loss of the Sunwell, and the near-absolute slaughter of his people, Falamorial began finding himself thirsting for something to fight. Some physical enemy he could swing a sword at. With Kael'thas' activities in Outland yielding an answer, man found himself happily ingesting Fel in a number of ways, the eyes of him and his people turning a sharp green as a result. Having since renamed themselves "Blood Elves", after the loss of their people, Falamorial thought the change of eye color was a fitting one. Wanting to regain his past abilties as a Paladin, the man was without hesitation to join up as a Blood Knight, and soon began his training anew. When word came about of Kael'thas' betrayal, Falamorial was absolutely outraged, even if powerless to bring vengeance upon the traitor.

With the Blood elves allied with the Horde, Falamorial finishing his training as a full fledged Knight, he began hunting Undead all across Eversong, mainly around the Dead Scar. Hellbent on bringing retribution to the Alliance for stabbing his people in the back, and to the Undead and Orcs for taking his brothers from him, Falamorial spends much of his time around Silvermoon. With the recent suicide of his father, and the last vestage of his family dead, the man decided it best to change his surname to "Grimfield", in honour of those lost.
"I'm not even halfway through this profile, and four people are dead."


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