Jacob Strecker

History
Jacob stands, waving you into his room, then clasps his hands behind his back. "So, you wished to know of my origins? Very well; please, make yourself comfortable." He turns away from you with a sad smile on his face.

"Let us begin, well... with the beginning. Years ago, ages ago, before the coming of the Orcs, before the death of Medivh, before the mass exodus to Kalimdor, my great-grandfather lived. His name was James Strecker; an alchemist and scholar who had lost his wife to an incurable disease after my grandfather, Joshua Strecker, was born." Jacob sighs, taking a worn book from the self he faces.

"He was driven mad, and openly cursed the Light and the gods for having taken his beloved away... However, he refused to simply let her fate pass. After months of study, he created a demonic summoning circle and called forth the Nathrezim known as Rahk'lihk, or Razelihk the Defiler. In exchange for James' soul, he would grant the man great power, including the ability to punish those who took from him, his wife." Jacob opens the book to reveal a sketch of a winged, demonic figure. The figure has bright, emerald eyes, leathery wings, and cracked hooves. Claws jut from the figure's hands, and it's appearance is strikingly similar to Jacob's own.

"That, friend, is James after drinking the blood of Rahk'lihk and selling his soul. Since then," he says, holding up his left hand, marked with a burnt rune in the shape of a 'J,' "My family has been both blessed and cursed. The blood of Rahk'lihk exists within us, and our souls are bound. If one dies, then so shall the other, and we are far from immortal. ...We also have a tendency to be a player in terrible events." He shakes his head, closing the book.

"James went on a rampage, and his son fled to where Brill stands now. My family lived on, and all who held the 'Strecker Curse' died in... rather unpleasant ways. James was brutally torn apart by Felhounds he summoned from the circle; Joshua was burnt alive when his house caught fire; my father, Joseph, was lynched simply for being a Strecker, and I was hanged." He replaces the book on the shelf.

"I assume you all know of the deeds of the dark Prince Arthas, yes? Well, if not, please ask someone else." He smiles again. "My story with Arthas begins in a small gathering of houses outside of Brill, and ends at my grave." Jacob clears his throat. "Returning from Northrend, he slaughtered everyone in that small group of families and houses, save for two people. The woman I was to marry, whose... name escapes me in undeath... and myself. I pledged myself to Arthas to save the girl." He unsteadily places his hand on an old chair in the room, sighing. "I killed so many while under his rule. Robert Banes, Kotone, Daniel Baldric, Amelia Baldric, and dozens more... Daniel was one of the men who was to guard King Terenas's throne room during the day, before another replaced him at night. With Daniel gone, I offered my services to the King, just to ensure his son would be able to reach him without being noticed." Jacob grips the chair, a slight cracking sound coming from it.

"King Terenas died, and I was hanged a week later. Rahk'lihk had since been banished from the Legion after Arthas broke from the Legion and made the Scourge their own independent force. He found my fresh body, instilled a curse that would wipe my memory, and return me to life later on, and left me in a ditch near Deathknell."

"The curse took its toll, and I was reborn without a single memory of life. I took on the name 'Bakuryu', based on shattered tombstones I saw upon waking. I was effectively Rahk'lihk's puppet in destroying the Scourge... Or... I would have been."

A wall-covering shadow moves from its place, and a large voidwalker shows himself. He nods at you, and begins.

"Jacob would have been the servant of Rahk'lihk... if not for the actions of those who turned traitor from the Legion." He holds up a smoke-like hand, counting off names. "Voltip, who sought power beyond what the Legion would offer a 'simple imp.' Myself, one of those born of the Naaru, who would not stand for my creators to be defeated and consumed with darkness. The succubus Mirriel, left due to her wild nature and unwillingness to be dominated. Zhaadhun, a felhound who followed me as I left, but was separated by Jacob's 'claiming' of a voidwalker. And finally, Haaroon of the Mo'arg race. He was a 'forced berserker,' tortured by the Legion until he broke his own moral code and wrought havoc with their forces. He left after I freed him of their spell."

Jacob smiles and continues for Mezzvhug.

"When I 'claimed' Mezzvhug, I was ruthless and cold. I would do anything to see the end of the Scourge, for reasons unknown to me. When I first forcefully sacrificed him, Mezzvhug noticed a taint on my mind and began to free me of Rahk'lihk's spell." He turns again, hands clasped behind his back. "What you see now, my friend, is the product of those who were banished, and those who turned traitor. Had the events in my life not have happened, I would most likely still be dead." He smiles and walks out.

Physical Description and Demons
Physical Description: Jacob is a fairly well-preserved undead; his skin is still intact and his body is straight, standing at six and a half feet tall. Jacob's eyes are a pale green from his usage of, and exposure to, Fel magic. A demonic rune, in the shape of the letter 'J', rests on the back of his hand. His hair, once black, has been dyed a deep green by unknown sources. He is almost always escorted by a demon of some sort, be it Mezzvhug or not.

Demons' Descriptions:

Voltip: Your average imp, save for various bruises and scars from vicious punishments for his wrongdoings.

Mezzvhug: A scholarly-looking, if such thing is possible, voidwalker who always has a book of some sort in his possession. He's also been known to wear reading glasses on occasion, primarily when looking at maps or charts.

Mirriel: A slender, typical succubus who's often seen dangling her arms around either Mezzvhug or Haaroon.

Zhaadhun: A ragged felhunter with several shattered teeth. He speaks only Demonic, yet understands Common and Orcish, and tends to be near Mezzvhug when he reveals himself.

Haaroon: A tower mo'arg felguard, partially clad in well-used armor. When not fighting, be it with his trademark axe, his plated fists, or a number of makeshift weapons, he is the epitome of the term 'Gentle Giant' and does simple chores for the University, including baking and cleaning. He does said chores in a hilariously small apron and oven mitts that barely fit.