Zamboozle

Character page

Information
In-game name: 
Faction: 
Horde
Character type: 
Player character
Nickname: 
Zam
Gender: 
Male
Race: 
Undead
Subrace: 
Human
Eyes: 
Yellow
Height: 
5' 10"

He stands straight - unlike most of his kind. Black robes decked him head to toe - the standard uniform of the Apothecarium. Yet unlike most, his robes are straight and clean pressed. He himself seems well preserved enough - no scars of tears on the visible parts of his face and hands. His pale hair, seemingly bleached by undeath, sat pulled into a straight tail behind him with trimmed bangs in front, hardly any loose strands to speak. It was as if he had just died, and was neatly prepared for a burial and then simply got up and walked away.

His eyes glow like lanterns on a clear night sky, betraying the still-sharp mind (and perhaps the less than pleasant thoughts) behind it. He stood with his weight usually on one foot, his arms crossed. When walking he takes a brisk step, as if wanting to get whatever he was going to do over with so he could head off and do more things.

He is usually always followed by a large orange crustacean - perhaps the only thing he tolerates within three feet of space.

 

Age: 
30(?)
Home: 
Lordaeron

Not a lot is known about this Forsaken, only that he came to the Undercity one day and was there ever since. He worked in the Apothecarium, serving as both a mender for the Horde and sitting at the strange position of an antidote mixer. Because of this post, he was rather disliked among his peers. Though he used to mend the living and dead alive, nowadays he focuses primarily on Forsaken. When mending the Forsaken he deploys a strange mix of Necromancy and Holy Magic, of which he seems strangely capable. When not slaving away in the Undercity, he can be seen standing in Brill graveyard, silent before rows of graves new and old.

 

Personality and Demeanor

Insufferable. It seems as though the past years have drained every last shred of kindness and happiness from him. Everything now is work, everything now is stress-inducing. There is little time to reason and ponder upon the facts of life (or unlife). He works and it seems, he enjoys stressing over work - whether it be putting a fallen Forsaken back together or mixing an antidote that will render the poison this colleague made, useless. Given his knowledge of magic and healing arts, he is quite intelligent and perhaps, once considerate and kindly. But whatever kindness he once carried seems to have been washed away by the harsh years of work and many losses he encountered. What little he has left is reserved for his crawdad companion - of who he seems more fond of than anything else alive, dead or undead.

To the hardier individual willing to brave his cold words, spiteful behavior and all around insufferable attitude, one can perhaps see a gentler soul hidden beneath the dark robes, piles of paperwork and to-be-broken poisons.

Whining is a known way of persuading him to do your bidding. Or bribing the crawdad to do the persuading for you.