|Myrkul (in life Darrick Towngaard)|
|Age||Hard to tell in undeath, but late twenties would not be a bad guess|
The raven flew through the dusk of Tirisfal glades on its nightly hunt, its sharp eyes scouting for prey, little did it know it was being watched by a pair of glowing eyes. The Forsaken warrior sighed, a habit he held on to even in undeath, how he hated patrolling these roads when there was battle and glory to be had elsewhere, the Forsaken snorted and continued on his route, maybe it had been a bad idea to join the army?
About 6' when standing straight, always fully armored, except when not on duty at which time he likes to wear his old dusty crockett hat (Myrk loves that hat as he got it from a troll friend of his who died heroically in battle). Myrkul has been in countless battles over the last five years and its beginning to show on him, scars and bruises cover him, giving him a somewhat scruffy look, one thing he keeps in pristine condition is his tabard which he wears proudly. He tends to look people he talks to directly in the eyes, but when he passes through a busy city he seem to ignore everything around him, like in a world of his own.
Born in Brill as the son of the village blacksmith and a seamster, Darrick was a small and weak child, to make matters worse as intelligence went he was not the sharpest knife in the drawer and extremely unlucky, all this led to a lot of teasing from bullies who made his life miserable, years passed and Darrick grew, limited by not being very bright and by being standoffish and uncertain as a result of bullies and adversity, Darrick did not amount to much, he got a job as a stablehand, a job he was well suited for but hated, he used to dream about faraway places and grand adventures while shovelling dung and other tedious tasks, all in all a grey and boring existence.... and then the scourge came. Darrick was short of many things but courage was not one of them, as knights in shining armor fled at the first sight of the undead horde, Darrick faced the tide of darkness and decay armed with a pitchfork defending a dying horse, his last memory of life was the stench of rotting bodies and highpitched screams of unholy hunger as the monsters killed him. then... light, and a hoarse voice speaking "Wake up brudda, taste ye freedom", Darrick felt...different, he opened his eyes and looked around, a tomb, filled with corpses, he quickly jumped up in fright to the coarse laughter of the ragged undead who held a lantern in its hand, "Easy brudda, look at yeself" the undead said. Darrick looked at his hands...claws and his body.. a zombie, he opened his mouth to ask what seemed a million questions all at once, horror and grief threatened to overwhelm him, but then the "other" undead spoke again, "'ere be time enough fer talk, lets us get ya outta 'ere brudda, follow", Darrick reluctantly followed the lantern carring undead out of the tomb and into the night.
After a period of enlightenment and reflection in the Undercity together with a small group of other newly "awakened", Myrkul was born, the Forsaken discovered that he was stronger, faster and tougher than he ever was in life, only thing that remained the same was his limited intelligence, but as far as the "newborn" was concerned that was a small price to pay, now finally he could do what he always dreamed to do... to explore, see the world, to matter. Myrkul trained with the Forsaken weaponmasters for a long time before heading out, learning about Azeroth and the Forsaken's place in it, as the world changed as the Scourge came, so did Myrkul, almost nothing of the uncertain, weak and timid Darrick Towngaard remained, only the unflinching courage remained. Myrkul may very well be the only Forsaken who does not regret becoming undead, to be a Forsaken enabled him to travel the world and beyond, having a more fulfilled exsistence than he ever would in life. Not long ago he opened a small smithy in Undercity where he spends most of his time when not on duty as a dreadguard.
Myrkul is an introspective person, he does not have a lot of friends, the few who he considers friends he is fiercely loyal to. He is normally quite grumpy and does not enjoy large gatherings at all, even though he seems like a misanthropic angry person he does try to help if someone is in distress, and has been seen more than once to wander to Stillwhisper Pond in the Eversong Woods during one of his business trips, with a loaf of bread under his arm to feed the birds there.