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Orion Drisk
Orion.jpg
OOC Game Stats
Game Name Valse
Faction Alliance
Race Human
Gender Male
Class Warrior
Guild The Stormwind Guard
Professions Blacksmith
IC Info
Nicknames Drisk
Title Captain
Age 27
Height 6"0"
Hair Pale Blond
Eyes Blue
Skin Lightly tanned
Alignment Lawful Good

Physical Description[]

Orion Drisk is a pretty large guy, standing at an easy six foot even, and all around well built from his years of smithing. Generally one not to care about outward appearance he normally dresses in black to avoid cleanup from ash and soot that gathers while he works by the forges. On duty he straps on some of the heaviest armor the guards allow and wears it with ease. His hands are large with use, scarred and rough from working with them for most of his days, while the rest of his body is mostly unmarred save for a small scar along the right of his neck, a gift from one of the first prisoners he helped subdue.

Personality[]

Orion is generally a very easy going guy, to the point where people tend to assume he’s lazy. The truth to the matter is he knows what he is capable of, and responsible for, so rarely goes outsides his bounds when it would do no good. Self conscience of his life and his work, he rarely talks about himself in a personal sense to co-workers or strangers. When times call for it, he has very little trouble throwing on a mean face and raising verbal or physical hell for people in his way which as of yet hasn’t gotten him in all that much trouble.

History[]

Born and raised just outside the city of Lordaeron at Brill, Orion was son to a poor blacksmith living a relatively simple life. Chores, training under his father, protecting his younger sister from bullies, and being a general snot nosed kid were the basics of his life. Like many son and daughters of Lordaeron, the coming of the Prince and the scourge rocked that forever.

Though none of his family was killed, his father had been assaulted and deemed possibly infected at the source of a wound. To prevent himself from turning, Orion’s father hacked off his own arm just below the elbow to keep the infection from spreading, which to this day seems to have done just that. However, in removing his limb, his career as a blacksmith was destroyed, he was no longer able to handle his materials, or his hammers. With no steady source of income, they would all be lost.

It was then that Orion forced himself to grow, and start to care about himself and other, nor as a child, but a man. He remained vigilant under his father’s guiding eyes and started to smith, traveling from town to town with his family, being sheltered for as long as it took the boy to outfit the local militias. As proud as carrying on his fathers work had made him, seeing his father suffer over his shoulder as he took every stroke of his hammer set him at unease. It wasn’t long before he left his family, scooped up to the plague land front to arm the Argent Dawn at Light’s Hope Chapel.

Orion Spent many years with the Dawn, first as a simple outfitter, then as a member. It was here he learned much of what he carries today, his craft of handling metal is highly influenced by his fathers personal style as well as traditional Dwarven smithing. His knowledge of the plague’s effects, and how best to combat a wide range of undead. His ability to understand, and forgive, knowing no matter the faction all races can come together when needed. Even accepting the forsaken and their place within his old kingdom. This is also where to took up his personal happy in what little free time he had, glass blowing. Unknown to just about everyone in his life, save for his sister and one fellow guard, no one knows of this.

Seeking stability, steady and reliable pay, and want to establish himself, he enlisted with the Stormwind Guard with a recommendation from the Dawn. It didn’t take long for him to become excepted, or move up within the ranks. He still blacksmiths, very often repairing his armor, outfitting guardsmen, or crafting ornate pieces of armor for decorative purposes. He has however stopped making weapons, finding to challenge, or art in making things to kill. He wears a hard mask around his guardsmen, coming off as rude and unlikable, but he has a soft spot somewhere down there for most of them, especially some of the ones he rags on the most.

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