{img:Interface\DRESSUPFRAME\DressUpBackground-Worgen1:350:100} {h1:c}{icon:Warrior_talent_icon_Deadlycalm:25} Human Form {icon:Warrior_talent_icon_Deadlycalm:25}{/h1}{col:ffffff} Standing at about 6'4", Berenal gives off the appearance of a calculated yet calm man. An ever vigilant gaze to his surroundings, coupled by a face devoid of emotions in most situations, the man could be easily perceived as unsettling to those who might expect the average man. Even with his vigilant disposition, his body language was that of a calmed man.

When closer, one could see his striking light blue eyes which almost at times seem incandescent in nature. Coupled with his piercing gaze, the man seemed to exude a sense of control and even temperament. Running along the left side of his face is a large crescent shaped scar that just barely skates around the eye it's self. Though the eye remains undamaged, the scar still looks like it would have been extremely painful to have obtained as it is somewhat jagged along the outer reaches of the scar, likely from a serrated edge.

His jet black hair sits loftily on his head, billowing down to a fair length and is connected on his face to a rather plentiful beard. Despite the wealth of hair, he takes care to ensure he maintains a well kept and managed appearance. His skin is an average tone, leaning towards the pale side due to the nature of his homeland. Though signs of stress are evident on his features, his face lacks wrinkles and he carries a youthful, if not tempered, appearance.

His body is rigidly trained, broad shoulders coupled with solid muscles and fitting abdominal shaping. A physique that demands maintenance, the man's form showed a perfect blend of strength without sacrificing his mobility. Scars line his chest and arms, eventually running down to his left arm which abruptly meets a metal brace. Along the brace is a hand crafted of moonsteel and obsidium, a replacement for his hand that was lost. The contraption moves fluidly, irremovably attached to the man, and substitutes his missing appendage with ease.

His demeanor depends on the situation at hand, in most situations he is calm and speaks with a commanding presence to his voice. His voice is a deep, somewhat scratchy, tone; coupled with an accent that varies in clarity depending on his mood. In battle or amongst those he is casual with, his accent veers into a less practiced variant; a stark contrast to his usual business tone of clarity.

{h1:c}{icon:Ability_Racial_Viciousness:25} Worgen Form {icon:Ability_Racial_Viciousness:25}{/h1}

{col:ffffff}As a Worgen, Berenal stands at a height larger than most. The pale skin and jet black hair now replaced with dark ebon fur. If possible, his eyes have become even more piercing, taking on the unwavering gaze of the wolf. In this form, his cunning has coupled now with ferocity; adding together to an unsettling mix of control and reckless abandon. Acute awareness seems prominent in his body language, as though constantly taking stock of his surroundings.

His face was that of a large wolf. A maw filled with razor sharp teeth, a nose possessing considerably more strength in terms of its sense. His body language was akin to his human side, though with a distinct edge onto the composure. Rather than the even temperament and calmness, he instead exuded a much more guarded demeanor, the calmness now more akin to a hunter's cunning than a politician or businessman. Once more, his crescent scar made its appearance in this form as well through slightly discolored fur that ran along the marred skin.

In this form, his muscles expand out to suit his larger height. Still evenly toned, the worgen's inherent swiftness along with his built body allows for the man to strike with even more power and agility. With fur to cover it, the scars that lined the worgen's body were oft not seen, aside from occasional discoloration of the fur akin to his facial scar. The metalic hand shifts to suit his transformation, now similar to that of his worgen claw, so as to continue the transition as a suitable replacement to match his still flesh wolvine claw.

His demeanor in his worgen form is, as before, dependant on mood. More often than not, he will not transition ito this form outside of a hostile situation. As a result, his voice is often met with a less practiced accent, a deeper baratone now added on top of his typically scratchy voice.

{h1:c}{icon:INV_Sword_2H_WorgenDeathKnight_C_01:25} Artwork{icon:INV_Sword_2H_WorgenDeathKnight_C_01:25}{/h1} {col:ffffff}

{link**Berenal by Belcarthe (Main Depiction)} {link**Berenal by Zombgief (Former Main Depiction)} {link**Berenal by Kenny/Ijiness} {link**Berenal by Diermina} {link**Worgen Berenal by Kenny/Ijiness} {link**Berenal by Renna}

Berenal (old)Edit

{img:Interface\BlackMarket\BlackMarketSign:256:128} {h1:c}{icon:Warrior_talent_icon_Deadlycalm:25} Human Form {icon:Warrior_talent_icon_Deadlycalm:25}{/h1}{col:ffffff}

Standing at about 6'4", Berenal appears nothing more than a standard Human male. He possesses a muscular build as well as evenly tanned skin from his near constant exposure to the sun.

When closer, one could see his striking ight blue eyes which almost at times seem incandescent in nature. Running along the left side of his face is a large crescent shaped scar that just barely skates around the eye it's self. Though the eye remains undamaged, the scar still looks like it would have been extremely painful to have obtained as it is somewhat jagged along the outer reaches of the scar, likely from a serrated edge.

His jet black hair sits loftily on his head, billowing down to a fair length and is connected on his face to a rather plentiful beard. Despite this, he takes care to ensure he maintains a well kept appearance, even with his plentiful hair.

Though signs of stress are evident on his features, Berenal is notably young for someone in the position he is in. His face lacks wrinkles and though the signs of stress are evident along his eyes at times, he carries a youthful appearance.

{h1:c}{icon:Ability_Racial_Viciousness:25} Worgen Form {icon:Ability_Racial_Viciousness:25}{/h1}

{col:ffffff}As a Worgen, Berenal stands at a height larger than most. His muscular form continues on in this form to a well evenly toned body, that when combined with the feral swiftness of the Worgen form, proves to be a deadly combination in battle. Rarely seen in this form casually, his stance in Worgen form is more of an acute alertness rather than an eased disposition. His claws and fangs are easily observable as razor sharp, and over all his appearance as a combatant is fearsome.

In this form, his light blue eyes seem even more luminescent than they did in his human appearance; easily standing out as one of his most defining facial characteristics. Alongside the side of his face, starting at his eye, a patch of lighter fur running in a crescent shape can be seen, the scar's patchy skin having grown an irregularity in the hair along his face, resulting in his scar being evident in this form as well.

Akin to his hair in his less wolvine state, his fur is a dense jet black with the fur along his chin and sides of his head braided into a lock at some points and his chin hair is typically held together by a tie rather than sprawled out rampantly.

{h1:c}{icon:INV_Sword_2H_WorgenDeathKnight_C_01:25} Weaponry and Armor {icon:INV_Sword_2H_WorgenDeathKnight_C_01:25}{/h1} {col:ffffff}At almost all times when traversing lands outside of his own, Berenal is adorned in a masterfully crafted set of plate armor. Consistant in the colors of dark grey and blue, the armor is a mixture of scaled mail and plating alongside ornamental cloth to cover potential gaps in his armor. Along his gauntlets and belt are bright blue gems that compliment the theme of the set while upon his chest is a skillfully crafted tabard of Gilneas. He is almost always adorned, even when visiting the south, in a somewhat heavy wolf fur cloak that drapes under his armor and around his form, clasped by an iron chain and wolf head clasp at the nape of his tabard.

With him at all times is a bastard sword by the name of Fenrus. Crafted seemingly out of a very rock like material known as Headlands Iron, Fenrus is the warrior's weapon of choice. Near the hilt rests a lone blue gem that, upon inspection, seems to swirl with a blizzard within. The blade it's self is normally very cold to the touch and gives off a soft glow when in view. At the pommel of the blade is a roaring wolf head, the symbol of House Grayblade.

{h1:c}Pictures{/h1} {col:ffffff} (Berenal by Zombgief) (Main Depiction) (him and his wife by Kenny/Ijiness) (Berenal by Diermina)


{h1:c}Physical Description{/h1}{col:ffffff} Tall, lean and fairly handsome, Robyn carries himself with a sense of pride and focus. At all times a pair of exquisitely made glasses can be found on his face, as well as always being draped in darker silks with a well crafted, yet not overtly flashy, staff at his side, the young man is never without some sort of tome or codex as he researches through the day. Polite in demeanor yet bookish and scholarly in speech, Robyn gives off the sense of education and higher learning having been made into an essential part of his lifestyle.

Though he speaks highly of the arcane craft, the man seems to harbor some sort of distrust for most organizations, especially the Kirin Tor. Proclaimed as a pyromancer and aspiring shadow mage, the man has strayed away from dabbling into the arts of demons to the point of soul corruption. As a result, while he may give a faint aura of shadow, his soul still remains barred from the tarnish that demonic empowerment brings.

His nigh-obsession with the shadow has led to him studying various dark arts for months at a time. As a result, his social skills could be seen as some what lacking when picking up on slang terms and other societal norms outside of formalities. His obsession has also led to the summoning of void creatures as his assistants. Though some would claim he treads the border between Shadow Mage and Warlock very thinly, there are many lengths he has sworn not to cross.


{h1:c}Physical Description{/h1} {col:ffffff}Standing at 6'4", Aeydan is adorned in armor befitting a man of his status. A mix of ornate yet practical leathers bound with furs and cloth drapes over his figure, typically accompanied by a fur cloak. His legs look slightly out of place, the armor around it lighter than that of the rest of his body.

When without the armor, it would be found his legs have actually been replaced with obsidium plated legs, having lost his original ones during a conflict in the Headlands. His somewhat long mane is also tied up into a ponytail. Usually attached to his bag that he carries with him is a leather helmet that matches the rest of his armor's design, which can be found on his head only in battle. On his back is a finely crafted halberd that has been lovingly cared for, made from Gilnean Moonsteel and Elementium.

On his chest he wears a tabard of a white wolf on a black background. Though similar to that of the Blades of Greymane, upon closer inspection it is that of the House of Grayblade.

A bastard in name and blood, but not in act or demeanor, the former hedge knight usually carries himself with a composed confident stride. His attitude towards newcomers is typically kind and welcoming, yet it is not uncommon to see him lose his temper towards those that test his patience far too often.


{h1:c}Physical Description{/h1} {col:ffffff}A man of tall and lithe stature, Alastar carries himself with an air of slight sophistication with a tinge of constant wariness of his surroundings. Armed with some sort of bow at all times along with a small array of bladed weapons, the man's armaments are consistently practical and befitting that of a knight. Whether in his blackened plate, representing the colors of his order that he has sworn to and the lords he has sworn to protect, or that of his own family's colors, the black and brown owl of the Woodcourt family, he is always well outfitted. His features are largely unremarkable aside from his blazing red hair that sits loftily upon his head, combed to a neatened state so as to befit a man of his stature. Ever so slighty sun kissed skin meets with deep azure pools of eyes. His sloped ridge of a nose meets with rather unpronounced lips, giving him a rather standard appearance.

Gifted, as he states, with two forms; Alastar portrays a vastly different side at times. Snow white fur and ivory fangs and claws act as the portrait for that of his wolvine side. A shift to his typical color of eyes, when within that of the wolf they shift into blueish-green shade rather than their typical pure blue. Standing at an imposing height, though dwarfed by some of his affliction, and sporting a more prominent muscular shape; Alastar's worgen side breathes ferocity rather than sophistication.

His armaments are practical enough, either his reinforced flatbow with fist grip puncturer or his familial weapon, a glave like bow with a reinforced guard and bladed edges. His armor too changes dependant on the situation. In formal or more dire straits, he dons his blackened plate along with his glaive-bow, befitting a situation of heightened danger. His plate is ornately made, with odd rune-like symbols dancing around certain areas of his armor, namely on his gauntlets and helmet. When out of his plate he wears a mail and leather draped set that allows for mobility and protection. Here too, small rune-like figures can be found against his gauntlets with one upon the mask of his helmet. Within battle, though it is often obscured by his adornments, he places woad upon himself in small markings, practiced in placement and style.

His voice carries a twinge of accent unfamiliar to the standard Gilnean (Irish), which gives his statements a bit of a unique flair when amongst those of standard heritage in the Headlands. At last, he is accompanied by several animal companions at all times. An imposing wolf by the name of Lupren often stalks his side alongside a staunch stag known as Aireachais. The last of his companions are two chimeras, a larger one, a rylak, by the name of Domhan and a smaller one by the name of Hoarfrost. While he typically only brings one or two into combat with him, they are all quite capable of holding their own in battle without much worry. Fervant in the faith of the Old Ways, Alastar treats the animals as his kin.

Family: Bashel Woodcourt (father, deceased) Deidre Woodcourt (mother) Brigid Woodcourt (older sister) Roslyn Woodcourt (younger sister) Airell Woodcourt (younger brother) Airic Woodcourt (younger brother)


{h1:c}Physical Description{/h1}

The man stands with a praticed and disciplined composure; akin to that of a man of a militant life. His armor, finely made and well crafted, is adorned with various gems and symbols that betray his past nature. Having once championed the cause of the Scourge, the Death Knight now emblazons his chest with that of his homeland of Gilneas. His weapon of choice remains a finely crafted runeblade; several bright azure runes glowing incandescently at all times with tinges of frost falling from the ever frozen tip of the blade. With or without said blade, the man continually gives off an aura of frost, his secondary weapon of choice when embroiled in the heat of battle. Alongside these ferocious armaments, he rides atop a deathly steed, whose appearance matches that of its ghastly master perfectly.

Below the helmet and armor is a gruesome sight. A face that in life may have been seen as handsome is worn by perpetually frozen stress along with blotched skin that is otherwise bleached white in some places by the cold. His hair has lost all color, the stark ivory strands that erupt from his head and face permanently covered in a soft sprinkling of frost. His body it's self is worse for wear, discoloration and scarring heavily found throughout the man's body; his hands a blackened sickly color. Perhaps the most jarring is the heavy gash scar to his left side; clearly something gained in his death throes. However, the man's body is eerily preserved, with signs of frost bite having worn away at the fringes of his fingers and neck. To those with a trained eye, it would be clear the man's body was frozen prior to his reanimation.

His attitude and demeanor match that of his imposing figure. Militant, disciplined and to the point; the man's death has only hardened these aspects that were all too practiced to have been acquired from his reanimation. Ruthless in his measures, he seeks to leave no job unfinished and all objectives completed to peak efficency. His direct loyalties are often thought dubious, though his commitment to the various causes he is found active in is unquestionable.


{h1:c}Description{/h1} {col:ffffff}Immediately upon seeing the woman, the first thing noticable would likely be her hair. Platinum blonde tresses flow loftily down the woman's head in a billowing, slightly curled at the tip, fashion. Clean and cared for lovingly, her hair could easily trail to the midsection of her back when straightened, though bits of it often lay over her shoulders. Her face shares the same complextion as most of her body, slightly pale from a lack of exposure to the sun. Soft features meet with striking amber eyes. Her teeth were white and unchipped, perfectly straight and well cared for. All together, she was a beauty by most standards.

Liara's body was kept in a consistent fit shape. Soft skin and untoned arms, leaning to well kept legs and an hour glass figure, the woman's body was somewhat skinny if nothing else, as if she'd skipped quite a few meals. Her midsection was flat, with nothing particularly standing out to her physique in terms of muscle; clearly showing she was not one built for melee combat. She held no blemishes or scars, though her hands, if exposed, did show slight markings of healed burn scars.

Liara's voice rang out with a distinct Gilnean accent, light and easy to understand. She spoke with a usually bubbily or happy disposition, betraying to her somewhat whimsical nature in terms of mannerisms. When needed, however, she could easily adopt an icey sort of disposition, hiding her true emotions or intent in a flash. All together, Liara was a stateswoman of high birth and breed; having been bred with the mentality she must be ideal; regardless of how that harmed her.


{link**Liara Houndsbane by Melfias}



{col:ffffff}Young yet brave, the squire was naught but a man just coming from the grips of his youth. With the look of a rather innocent fellow, Donnel radiated a sort of charm that was almost always in his favor.

Chestnut brown locks sprawl haphazardly over the youth's face, cleared just so slightly towards his forehead that would allow him to see. When not adorned by some manner of absurd helmet, as he was so prone to picking, the man was very clearly growing into adulthood by his face. A jagged scar runs down his right eye, running over the lid, marring his otherwise prestine facial structure. A strong jaw with a straight nose, the young man could easily be described as having a fair bit of appeal to his look.

To his body, it was an ever changing thing. Once a lithe appearance of a Westfall farm hand, the squire's appearance was now more toned and muscular; taking on the formation of that of his peers. Aside from that, there was nothing abnormal aside from his right hand. Missing at the knuckle was his little finger, while his ring finger was only a stub. Without gloves, it was clear they were amputated in some form.

Personality wise, Donnel showed nothing of scars of the past. A cheerful lad, the man carried with him a sort of care-free yet morally bound sense of being. Able to crack a smile from even the dullest of figures, Donnel held a sort of innocence to himself despite his occupation and the fields he followed. Though not without his moments for seriousness, he was ever the optimist; looking for the best of all situations.

To his voice, a clear drawl of Westfall was evident, though the hint of Gilnean could be found. The child of two Gilneans that had migrated to Westfall following the Second War, his personal heritage was lost mostly to the region of which he was born. Though at times a bit hard to understand from his manner of speech, it is clear at all times the would-be paladin means well.


{h1:c}Physical Description{/h1}

{col:ffffff} Calculated and precise, Alranthor stands at about 6'6", a well kept appearance lined about his physique. The man's skin was pale and tinted with a slight twinge of blue along some of his contours, as the rest of his kin were to take since their transformation. His eyes were a striking teal, learning more towards blue than green, with nary a scar or blemish upon his face proper. His hair, once a dark black, has since dulled into a faded gray-black; sitting neatly upon his head without much care.

His face it's self held the typical elven features of higher cheekbones and a bold chin, though his was softened and held a beard to mask the distinctive elven jawline that was known amongst the Thalassian breed. His expression was almost always neutral or introspective, as if he were taking in his surroundings with a practiced look; the man very rarely loosening his posture to anything less than a proper stance.

He himself carried a proud, yet modest movement to his poise and demeanor. While not outwardly welcoming, the man was not privvy to immediately lambast or turn away anyone who approached him. His armor was distinctively elven, bearing the colors of the Ren'dorei; parts of it twinged by exposure to the void. His armaments matched, an elven rune dagger at his waist, and a rather well polished Ironwood staff; topped with a shadow spell-focus.