Character Highlight: Rorik
General Information
Full Name: Rorikstrasz
 |
| Imagine 10 pounds off this guy! |
Character Alignment: Neutral Good
Sexual Orientation: N/A
Philosophy: “Judge less, understand more, compassion always.”
Alliance or Horde: Alliance leaning, but otherwise neutral.
Physical Appearance
Race: Dragonkin (Human disguise)
Age: Human - Early Adulthood (20-25)
Draconic - Drake
Height: 6’ 1”
Hair color: Red
Eye color: Golden Honey
Body shape: (In Human form) Thin, Lankey
General description: In his natural draconic form, Rorik is a typical red drake, covered in hard crimson scales, with a softer cream underbelly that runs from the edge of his jaw to the end of his armored tail. Golden-yellow slit eyes sit semi-flat in his narrow skull. Two noticeably large horns on his head point backward toward his enormous wings, with more plating along the ridge of the skull, joints of the wings, and upper part of the back. In his mortal disguise, he takes on a human shape, with tan skin, and stark red curly hair. His eyes appear normal, albeit softer in their golden color. Perhaps it’s a reflection of his age or what he’s being fed, but he has the build more akin to an awkward teenager than an actual man.
Face Claim: Stefano Masciolini
Distinguishing Marks
Covered up by long, elbow-length leather gloves and linen wrappings while he walks among mortals, Rorik's left arm is charred black, a painful reminder of his beginnings. It's still a functioning limb, however. In the daylight, it is just black, though in any shade once can see a faint pulsing glow in the cracks. Quite the sight in the pitch dark!
The charred arm is still visible in his dragon form, sans any attempts to cover or wrap the old injury.
Personality and Demeanor
Supremely over-confident of his own abilities, Rorik is prone to making snap decisions without any forethought. So long as it accomplishes the initial goal, the consequence might as well not exist for Rorik. That being said, Rorik still holds great compassion for life as a whole and does not actively pursue conflict or bloody revenge. Just don’t be surprised if your following days aren’t beset with gaffs and pranks at every turn. He is protective of his family, the Chess couple, and when he isn’t searching taverns for his new favorite bard song or training in strength and power, he can always be found right behind Alia.
An important note should be stated here; The Red Dragonflight are guardians of life, and therefore should strive to protect all life. That being said, the orcs of the Old Horde did unspeakable things to Alexstraza, Life-Binder, and Dragon Queen, as well as the Dragonflight as a whole. As such, Rori holds onto an ancient grudge that isn’t likely to subside, especially with recent events to consider.
Other Information
Favorite Trade Skill: Herbalism; Some of his fondest memories is helping Alia care for and grind down herbs for various inks and powders.
Main Character Hobby: Learning to play the lute, with dreams of coming one of the great bards.
Favorite Drink: Badlands Burbon
Favorite Food: Sweetrolls (Fresh, not conjured).
Favorite IC Activity: Tuning his lute while relaxing under a tree.
Favorite OOC Activity: Listening to the various shanty, folk, and drinking songs out there while I sit afk, waiting for dungeon queues.
Background
The red dragon whelp known as Rorikstrasz, or simply Rorik, was born wreathed in ash and flame.
And no, I'm not saying that just because he’s a dragon.
His mother dead at the hands of Deathwing and his corrupted black Dragonflight, Rorik's fate was nearly sealed. He was trapped inside his egg at the time, and the cave was ablaze with the roof about to collapse. Saved at the last moment by me, he spent his first few months of conciseness on the road. I took him from place to place, seeking those of his own kind that could give him asylum. However, this was the Cataclysm - no place was safe for long. If it wasn't Deathwing and his Old God masters, it was Azeroth herself, lost in her throes of agony, that would be your doom.
It was a dark, cold night while traveling through the Wetlands when he hatched. From the cold wet air and an extended improper incubation period, he became very sick. Fever and chills racked his tiny body, and his eyes slowly clouded over; he was going blind. Most critical was his left arm. The unholy fire of the Aspect of Death that had attacked his home burned his left arm black, and it pulsed a hellish purple. Pushing the limits of my magical and physical capabilities, I rushed him the last few miles to an outpost held by others of the Red Dragonflight; Vermillion Redoubt in the Twilight Highlands. There, in a show of might and magic that no mortal could replicate, the guardians purified the wound and cured him of his ailment. As it turns out, the fever and blindness were the results of a common illness among whelps who did not spend enough time in the light of a mother's flame. I don't know what it's called - apparently, there is no translation for our Common tongue. As for his arm, the healing flames did not restore it, but they made it functioning again. It glows a soft red now, pulsing softly like new lava that's flowing under older, cool lava.
He spent a few months there with his brothers and sisters, but soon was overcome with wanderlust and made his way back to me. I nearly dragged him back, for a library is no place for a dragon, no matter the size. But he spoke, which was quite a shock for me, and convinced me otherwise.
He told me remembering long nights on the road, where his only warmth was a fire protection spell that just barely did the trick, and times when he was nestled warmly in the coals of a raging hearth or campfire. He apparently watched, tucked away in a bag similar to the one I have now as I overcame every obstacle that stood my way. He remembers my talking to him, telling him the history of our world and it's many peoples to pass the time. How I stopped and helped when I could afford it, and many times even when I couldn't. Rorik even went so far as to tell me about one of the towns in my favorite book; Rorikstead, which is where he got his name. He became my little brother in a roundabout way; Not content remaining in a pseudo-isolation like many other dragons. He wanted to explore the world. See the potential that it held like I had.
The potential I’m still crusading for.
And here by my side, he has stayed ever since and has been the greatest travel companion and confidant a mage could ask for. He's a handful to be sure, has trouble controlling himself around sweets, and throws tantrums that end with a sizeable amount of property damage if he's not careful. But he's my best friend, and I wouldn't trade him for anything.
- An entry from Alia's diary, dating back ten and a half years ago -
 |
| Much better! |
In Pandaria, he was key to Alia and his survival in the Karasang Wilds, using his healing abilities to stave off the jungle rot that would have otherwise taken Alia’s leg when she broke it escaping from Kirin Tor Offensive pursuers. He’d later go on to offer his gift to many other travelers and displaced Pandaren, healing wounds and purifying infections. While in those Mist hidden lands, there were various experiences with the Void, and a certain Black Prince that neither Alia nor Rorik likes to speak about to anyone. Nothing to write in the history books, but let us say that no one likes being lied to and used.
Rorik has been keeping his nose relatively clean since those runaway days, becoming an invaluable close friend and research partner to Alia. He helped Alia prove her “mastery” of fire magic (by hiding in her coats and blast a blot of fire when she waved her hands), and kept the Tower of Azora heated during their tenure there. After the Legion’s final invasion, he grew from a whelp that could be smashed into a bookbag into a drake nearly suitable to ride.
Now he trains under a paladin mentor to hone his combat skills in his mortal form, and his natural healing abilities so that he can protect not only those he loves but the world at large.
Comments
Post a Comment