Taz'rahi

Name: Taz'rahi 

[Ta-z-Ra-He]

Age: Adult

Gender: Male

Height: 9'3

Build: Bulky, Bara, Fluffy

Race: Drakkari Troll

[Frostmane]

Location: Last Seen in Orgrimmar

Orientation: Pansexual

Status: Unknown

Personality: Stoic, Quiet, and a little Cold. Has a hard time opening up about a lot of things. Doesn't mind company, but isn't much of a talker.

History: Taz'rahi grew up like any other good Frostmane child. Brought up by his parents on the outskirts of Dun Morogh. They vowed to move in closer once his baby sister was born. He grew up, already determined to become an amazing warrior. He wanted to be that shield, for his parents, and for his sister; Zo'bali.

As he aged, Taz'rahi was accepted and began training almost instantly. He was a quick learner, and praised by his teachers. Upon finishing his training, he was sent out with other like-minded warriors, to protect the village and its people against the impending threat of Dwarves on their borders, and here Taz'rahi thought he saw it all when the Cataclysm shook their homeland.

His training didn't help him this time, an ambush in the night, his band killed. But surprisingly, he wasn't. Instead he was taken, he thought surely he'd die then, worrying over his family.
Instead of being killed that night. They used him for entertainment, tossed in a makeshift arena to fight for his life with whatever he could get his hands on. Each day it was the same, but each day the battle got harder, tougher oppoents thrown in. Until one day, the guard could no longer fight, before him stood his own sister. She was barely of age, and already looked worse than he did. He cried, for he could not bring himself to kill her, but he had the choice. Do it himself, or let the Dwarves do it for him. He could not see his sister taken from him like that, and she too, understood, a hand on his cheek. Taz'rahi watched as she pushed herself onto his would be weapon, it was the last time he ever heard his nickname muttered again.

Taz'rahi was beyond broken after that, a mindless gladiator for their amusement, he only wished that death would take him one day. He heard rumors from the Dwarves of something happening. A group had been invading the Eastern Kingdom; the Horde. They were his only chance, and with the Dwarves distracted, the Frostmane escaped, with barely his life still attached to him. Though he escaped, the Frostmane felt more alone than ever, he escaped North, dodging any Alliance outpost from Dun Morogh to Arathi HIghlands, though it was taxing, he managed to make it to an outpost, the Horde accepted him warily, and mended his wounds. A few Darkspear pointed him in the direction of an allied village, the Revantusk, handing him a seal to keep him safe.

The Revantusk were kind enough, though cautious of the Frostmane, he didn't blame them, they helped mend his wounds some more. The same could not be said for his heart.