"Mourun Whisperfoot"

Description: Born of the Skullsplitter Tribe from the jungles of Stranglethorn Vale, Mourun, from the family of Whisperfoot (A renown family of hunters and trackers of the Skullsplitter Tribe) leads the life of a powerful servant of the horde. A master of protection, Mourun's booming voice and ominous presence is reason enough for enemies to keep their eyes on his mighty form, instead of those of his comrades. Though his power and fury on the field of battle is unmatched, Mourun is still a kind soul, and wishes not to participate in the killing of the horde's mortal enemy, the Alliance. How Mourun came from being a member of the Skullsplitter Tribe, to becoming a warrior of the Horde is still shrouded in mystery.


Armaments: Mourun carries with him at all times, a blade of black steel. The hilt is covered in trollish runes, and written upon the twin flat sides of the blade, in the trollish tongue: "May many skulls fall before thee, Young Whisperfoot." In the opposite hand, a battle worn Draenic shield is held, its battered surface glistening in the light of its surroundings. Hidden within the wrist of each of his gloves, smaller blades are held. Some are throwing stars. Others, small daggers. Mourun is able to grasp at these blades with ease, by simply moving his hands together.

Notable Physical Features: Multiple gold and silver rings adorn the Troll's tusks, and pierce his ears. His hair stands straight up, and forms a bristly fan of dark blue hairs. A very strange thing noticeable about Mourun is his left arm. Instead of skin, there is a stretched dyed hide, colored like most of his short furred skin. Creaks and clicks are heard whenever he moves any part of his arm, and hand. In truth, this relates back to a part of Mourun's history in battle. After a vicious battle against a beast of immense wrath, Mourun's arm had been a very gruesome and bloody way. Returning to a nearby town, Mourun collapsed in the main square, and went unconscious. While he was knocked out, the shamans and healers of the town rushed to try and heal his disfiguring wound. Several hours had passed, and Mourun had still not awoken. The healers were ready to give up, and declare Mourun a lost cause, when a stranger rushed towards the group, holding out a strange device, that slightly resembled a mechanical arm, made of wood and iron. With unnatural ease and speed, the shamans and healers were able to mend the wound, and by the stranger's suggestions, replace Mourun's lost arm with this device. It was a complete success, and Mourun to this day lives with a foreign limb.

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