(can be left blank if the CS is accompanied by a photograph or piece of artwork instead)Race:
Leasick Valshanner was once one of finest warriors the elven kingdom had to offer. Born into an old house of virtue, he was hailed as a proud son with many expectations riding upon his shoulders, even if he was not the eldest child of the ruling head of the house. From an early age on he was taught and trained in the finer arts of combat, mastering various types of blades, as well as the bow and arrow. Throughout this period of life he was often praised and looked up to, breeding a sense of arrogance.
Joining the elvish army, that was soon beaten from him though, as the army was formed around the idea of unity. It had long been predetermined that Leasick was to be fitted for a leader's role, partly due to his father's influence and partly due to his skills in theoretical warfare strategy, but his arrogance and a quest for glory of which he felt he deserved proved to bear him little fruit during further training. His training squad was defeated soundly time and again by more unified, organized teams during the war games the elvish army training camp held on almost weekly basis.
More and more the cadets under his command came to resent and eventually even hate the high born "fool" of an elf. One night Leasick was held down and beaten, a pillow shoved over his face so muffle the yells and cries of pain. It was never proven who the true perpetrators were, but everyone knew
. It was a lesson in humility for the aspiring leader, one which he would forever carry in his heart and mind.
From that point foreward Leasick began to mend his ways. He realized his own ambitions and goals were irrelevant, that the wellfare of his men and their mission as soldiers to protect the elvish people was their true goal. A long road awaited him though, as he had to slowly regain the trust of those who had come to hate him. When someone in his squad broke a rule, he would take the punishment instead. When someone made a mistake, he would take the blame. Everytime he would say that it was his responsibility as leader. At first this was abused by those under his command that resented him, but Leasick never faltered, never complained, and never gave up. In the wargames his strategies also changed, becoming more streamlined, more focused on the objectives and safety, forsaking glory for minimal losses. By the time their training came to and end, a process well over six years in the elvish army, they ranked among best wargame squads in the last century, and he had regained the trust he had once so easily lost from his men.
Promoted to the rank of captain, Leasick went on to fight several skirmishes over the decades that followed, partaking in campaigns against those that dared invade the elvish nation. As glory was something he had forsaken, Leasick never actively persued promotions, much to the dismay of his father and clan. He had grown fond of fighting at the side of regular soldiers, to lead them through figurative hell and back safely. That was something he felt he could not do as a general, positioned at the rear end of the army, hunched over maps in a warm and safe tent.
When the wizard invaded the boarders of the elvish kingdom with orcs under his command, Leasick and his men were drafted into the initial response campaign and were sent to repell the enemy forces. Unfortunately it ended in utter disaster and defeat, the likes of which the elvish kingdom would never witness again, as well honed strategies, tactics and experience turned out to be useless in the face of the wizard's strange powers.
Those that were not killed in the battle itself were captured, bound and dragged into the orc camps, where they were subjected to the wizard's strange magic. Leasick had to watch as one by one the captured soldiers were turned into something that could no longer be called an elf. No, they were to become to vanguard of a new race of orcs, designed by the wizard himself. The captain was one of the last to be turned, along with most other leaders; a cruel trick to break their minds by forcing them to watch those under their command be turned first.
As he laid there, Leasick cried out to the gods, the spirits, or whomever would listen, but they all remained painfully silent. Rather death then become the wizard's tool. Rather death to himself and all his men then this. Death was by far the more merciful fate. But it was not to be, as he, too, was twisted and changed. Gone was the skilled and honourable captain, replaced by a monster... replaced by an orc
. His body grew, no longer toned and fair of skin, but tall and imposing, with skin rough, dark and foul, and muscles strong enough to snap necks and break bones with ease.
He was given a new name. Farod
; a name given to him after he began displaying unrivaled skill in battle and an equally unrivaled lack of sympathy for his enemies, slaughtering those that were once his kinsman with almost disturbing eagerness. The name was given to him because he was unique and unmatched in many ways, leading orc forces at the front of the battlefield effectively, many rallying eagerly beside him whenever he was there, knowing that "Farod the Unmatched" would help secure a bloody victory. But Farod did not fight for the sake of the army, but for the sake of glory. He wished to see the heads of his toughest opponents and greatest leaders pitched atop his spears as trophies. There was nothing he enjoyed more then to show that he was, without a doubt, the strongest and most glorious of all. It was a dark side of his previous life as an elf to have resurfaced in the darkness now present in his mind and body. Perhaps it was this that lead him to his ancestral home, where he personally slaughtered his father and several of his brothers, sating the lust for female flesh by raping his sisters and mother before having them integrated into the army as slaves.
After kingdom of elves was burned to the ground a new foe appeared to sate Farod's desire for blood. The wizard ordered them to destroy the kingdom of man next. Their armies met upon the field of battle, with the orc eagerly charging in with the first wave and only one of few of that very same wave to still draw breath today. Farod cared little for the many orcs that died beside him in the battle, as glory was reserved for those still drawing breath by the end of it. He had managed to slay one of the human generals by knocking him off his steed and defeating him in single combat, his head now atop a spear, as were those of all the other slayed generals, carried with the orc army as they marched upon the capital of man, their main army crushed and defeated. There, he once again charged head first into the fray, as the city gates fell. The city fell swiftly, the royal guard posing only a minor nuisance to the mighty orc horde. The human city sacked, the army turned their gaze once again upon the elvish, their former kin, marching towards the next city, for blood and glory and elvish cunt!