Trigin

Trigin

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Full Name: Trigin Steelblade

Nicknames: Trigs

Date of Birth: Doesn't know

Age: roughly 32

Race: Human

Gender: Male

Hair: Brown

Skin: Light tan

Eyes: One green eye

Height: 5" 11'

Weight: 210lb

Place of residence: Arathi Highlands

Place of Birth: The Great City of Lordaeron

Known Relatives: Father: Unknown, Mother: Darlynn

Religion/Philosophy: Survival of the fittest

Occupation: Free Agent, Mercenary, and outlaw

Group/Guild affiliation: -

Guild Rank: -

Enemies: Anyone who gets in his way.

Likes: Cigars, alcohol

Favorite Foods: Anything really..

Favorite Drinks: Heavy liquor

Weapons of Choice: Daggers, short swords, and guns

Dislikes: Cowards, nobles, politics, law enforcement, and "white knighting"

Hobbies: Engineering

Physical Features: Trigin's major feature is the eyepatch which he wears over his right eye.

Special Abilities: Highly extensive SI:7 training

Positive Personality Traits: loyal, protective, relentless, charismatic, cunning, and resourceful.

Negative Personality Traits: Doesnt know when to quit, paranoid, over protective, Vengeful, and a borderline drunk.

Theme Songs:

, Dead man's gun

History: -

Art work- http://i644.photobucket.com/albums/uu164/Cordless_01/1580ei0.jpg (Credit for the art goes to Thengil )

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"Mmm..." Feeling much better after the day's battle at the Alliance brew festival, the Marquess sat up, nodding toward the Horde censor. "Who else... Well, there WAS this heller whom *I* should say was quite disagreeable! I can't quite recall his name..."

He flips a wrist, and winces suddenly. "Urgh! GOD! But I should RECALL him nearly breaking my wrist! I was ATTEMPTING to alleviate the situation, and he found it upon himself to drive his FOOT into my arm!"

The mage's eyes narrow, and he nods once, stiffly. "He is ever-present, I have noted, in the Cross' affairs."

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Hidden almost easily amongst the crowd in the Pig and Whistle tavern of Stormwind's Older Town district, the arrogant Goblin picked his next 'victim' out of the few patrons the tavern had attracted that evening.

"Yo! You there! With the ears?!" He called across the tavern to an elf sitting in the corner, who'd been going over some papers. "Got a minute?!"

Quiet surprised by the random outburst, Cytiana could do nothing more than nod, as the small creature wandered close to her. "Erm.. Aye?" She said hesitantly, "What can I do you for?"

The Goblin smirked, his teeth appeared jagged and dangerous in the dull light of the tavern, "This guy, Steelblade. Ya know 'im!?"

"Uh.. Yeah. I know him. Why?" Cytiana returns his question guardedly, fully knowing what could come of it.

"What do ya think of him?!"

Relaxing slowly, she shakes her head, "He's.. uh. Trigin. Calm and collective most times, save the few moments where he can be a bit brash. Those times though.. they usually don't happen too often. He is, and does what he needs to do. He's a soldier, through and through.. and to be honest.. he loves what he does, it seems. No matter the beatings he takes, the stresses he might put up with, he still loves it. And it's easy to see in what he does with the Watch, how he acts with us. You see.. If he knows one of us is, or could be in danger, he takes the time to make sure, or come up with some plan of action," She pauses, taking a drink from the glass of honey wine to her side, "He cares about his men, and in an officer in command, it's more than enough to ask."

The Goblin, having jotted down half of what she said into some unreadable language and script, nodded his knobbly face. He grinned down at his papers, after coming to a halting conclusion, "Elf, ya make it sound like you're another soldier. Haven't ya anymore to say?! C'mon! I need something to make this story worthwhile!"

To the Goblins delight, the Elf smiled softly to herself-- one of those woman smiles, he supposed, before she murmured, "Aye. I do have more.. He's.. so different. Much less calm at times I can tell you that. He's very protective, but at the same time, caring, and very compassionate. I'd.. give my life for him, in a heartbeat."

She blushes a faint violet colour, and murmurs softly, "Love. It does some funny things to you.." Stacking her papers, she turns and exits the Tavern after a murmured farewell, her mind obviously elsewhere. The Goblin, after a shrug, rubbed the feathered quill against the bridge of his knobby nose, and cackles loudly,

"Yo! Barkeep?! Can a Goblin get a brew around here?!"

((Let's try this again..))

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Blastbrew takes a long drag of his cigar, exhaling it with a sigh. He's quiet for a minute before looking up at the goblin reporter and speaking.

"This lad... This... One-Eyed DOG... 'Ad th' AUDACITY t' kick me in th' BALLS!" He punctuated this by slamming his fist on the bar. "Ain't nae creature alive 'r dead wot kin call themselves a MAN if they break th' most scared o' rules..."

Blastbrew leans forward, staring the reporter in eyes with a dangerous gleam, "Ne'er hit another man in th' BOLLOCKS! Oh aye... When I be gettin' me hands on that GNOLLSHAGGING bastard... I'll make sure 'e ne'er spawns nae wee, lavender, nutkickin', mongrel BASTARDS!!!"

Blastbrew ended this sentence shaking in rage, one eye bulging out of it's socket, his yellowed teeth clenched and gleaming in the eerie light of the tavern. The goblin and the dwarf sit there for a long moment, without saying a word.

The silence is eventually broken by a high-pitched whine, followed by a grunty, "There ye be.", as Blastbrew returns to his drink.

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*Rethius twitches his mustache from one side to the next, unsure of how to respond.*

"I have mixed feelings. So I will keep them to myself, Here are the facts. This man is brave, and that is more than I can say about most humans."

*The Dwarf smirks softly.*

"Misguided? Perhaps. But he fights with honor and bravery, and in the end that is all that will be asked of us soldiers."

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*taking a rest at the Filthy Animal Inn, Betraylyn sits quietly at a far table, she sips on some nectar, as she see's the Goblin start to approach. A slight smirk on his face. She rools her eyes as to what the short thing wants now.*

"Betty...oh Betty...* He says with enthusiasm.

*growls out in annoyance* "How many times have I told you, not to call me Betty! It's anoying enough my clansmen do it...what do you want now any way?"

*a wide grin spreads accross his face* "Um, have you known a human by the name of...Trigin?

*She narrows her eyes at he goblin as they turn a redish lume* "Tirgin...Tirgin...Uhg, how can you bring up that name...he's a pain in my neck, a thorn in my side...he's a...he's a...oh never mind. For a scilent killer, he's not too bad...I suppose. Keeps catching me off guard. But...I wonder what would happen away from his comrades...*looks deep in thought*...I'm sure I won't see the last of him, maybe next time he will be the one caught off guard...*mutters to herslef as she picks up ther belongings and walks off* Damn rogues...

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The goblin looks up at the elf woman, who simply stares at him.

"Ah... m'am?"

She blinks a few times, a smirk on her lips. "Yeah. I know him. And I won't really tell you -what- I think of him. I think Unulu knows him -far- better than I, anyways." She pulls one of many beads from her hair, dropping it in the sands of Tanaris. "He means about as much to me as that bead. The sands will soon cover it, and it will be forgotten... much like him."

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Standing at the Silver Enclave in Dalaran, Ranaynne was buying her weekly supply of Honeymint Tea. A tugging on her Tabard brew her gaze from the merchant, and she let out an exasperated sigh, blowing a few stray strands of hair out of her face.

"What now?" was her clipped, somewhat irritated reply as she looked down into the familiar face of a smirking goblin who stood there, parchment and quill in hand.

"You're in that.. Watch, aren't you? Tell me what you will about the one named 'Trigin', if ya would."

A variety of emotions flashed in her blue eyes; malice; frustration, and a hint of sorrow. "Trigin?" Sighing, Ranaynne spoke carefully. "He was.. maybe is.. a friend .. of sorts. Can be rather rude at times, but.. seems.. focused on his goals, if sometimes a bit.. " She clears her throat and speaks more primly.

"Trigin Steelblade is an Officer of the Watch per Miss Omy's choice, and he is ever improving his skills as a rogue." Nodding at this, she walks away, eyes narrowed with much seemingly unspoken, to the Goblin's chagrin.

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Rohna looks over this issue of the Gazette, groaning. "Smug, little bastard... He didn't happen to mention all those times I beat him into the dirt."

He folds up and tosses the gazette back to the goblin, "I really should just kill him... Would make the world such a happier place... Or maybe I should just take his other eye."

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Trysteza looks down at the goblin with contempt.

"Trigin? I do not know him well but he has fought alongside my brothers and I enough times. I can only say he is always willing to aid us, fighting valiantly for the Alliance."

She sneers at the goblin and kicks him sharply as she walks away.

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"He's strong willed, brave in the face of unbeatable odds, and rushes into the heart of battle with little to no consideration for his own well being."

The Tauren snorts.

"While that's certainly a welcome change from the run-and-hide response of most Alliance, he's simply traded in his cowardice for a whole lot of stupidity instead."

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"Trigin? Doesn't hit overly hard, feels like he throws a week old plum at times. If I could catch the little devil I'd beat him senseless.. But damn he's fast, and elusive. That, or I'm not fast enough."

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*Sips his tea in the tavern of the Underbelly*

Oh yes indeed, I dare say, I recall him... Human rogue, a single eye and what not... Flys the colors of that quaint little organization known as the Dusk Watch... Indeed...

*Sips his tea*

I have seen better... Then again, I have however seen worse... If I see him in the Dalaran dueling area perhaps I shall show him the skill of an individual who bears the Cross...

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Joringil looked up at the interviewer with more than a hint of irritation in her eyes. "Don't think I've formally met him... though I watched him fight a time or two. I've fought enough professional assassins to know what to watch for when it comes to a fellow like him. Seen better and worse, though he fights on my side in this war, so really I dun think I care about much else right now."

The warrior flipped a piece of paper from one stack resting in front of her over to another, silent except for the scribbling of her quill.

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"Trigin..."

Lurile rubbed the back of his neck for a minute thinking about how to respond.

"Don't get behind him, I was sore for a week after he hit me for it."

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The Goblin wilted, even blocking the eyes with his notebook he could still feel the silver pools staring at him...

"...I know what you expect me to say, and you won't hear it." Her voice snapped a bit like steel, what feelings that were held below quivering under the strain.

The goblins voice skipped ahead without consulting his brain first, "w-what DO you think about Trigin leavin' the Watch then?" He squirmed as soon as the words were said, but couldn't take them back. He still hadn't peeked out from around the barrier of his notepad.

"...you honestly think it matters to me what COLORS Trigin wears?"

The tone of her voice made him flinch.

"You think I'm swayed in my loyalties by mere NAMES?" The chuckle was dark. "Maybe you need to use your eyes more and your ears less....if name or color was important, do you think I'd fight the Raven Cross?" She paused for a moment, the Goblin swearing in his head that she could hear his thundering heart. "Trigs is alive, yes? Happy, I hope? Still fighting?"

His nod was tiny. "S-so I hear..."

"Then none of this petty grievance bothers me....go fill your notebook with other nonsence."

She turned back to her meal, dismissing the Goblin.

He stood there...looking at his feet...drawing forth his courage. He was a reporter, wasn't he? Getting to the bottom of things, that was his calling. Was it not?

She didn't look up as he rounded the table, continuing to eat whatever food was in front of her. He squared his shoulders, "..what about the reports that you were severely injured the night Trigin left the Dusk Watch?"

The fork stopped half way to her mouth. Her eyes, usually covered by goggles, looked up with a disgusted look, voice as cold as the blue that tinted the deep wells of silver light. "..are you suggesting Trigin had anything to do with that?"

"Some have said-"

She slammed her fist down on the table, the food on her plate jumping along with the goblin. "I don't care what this vague group of people think, what right they imagine they have spreading their views and their opinions about like plaque! Friendships forged on fields of battle are hard won but long kept, and nothing so petty is going to change that. Ever."

She jabbed her fork in the frozen goblin's direction, eyes narrowing. "YOU try to fight against an overwhelming foe at someone's side who time and time again refused to give up or back down...someone who saved your life countless times! YOU fight the unwanted fights where your deeds are seen by none but each other and then YOU tell ME if the COLORS encasing his beating heart matter at all!!"

The inn had fallen silent as the rogue's voice had risen, the patrons staring or looking elsewhere in equal number. Her eyes were flashing, the anger that had been held down by her composure finally bubbling to the surface. She stabbed a hunk of meat on her plate viciously, the fork quivering upright for a moment.

"The ONLY thing that's gone is the swell of pride I felt seeing him in the colors of my Watch. That's it." Her voice had calmed now, back to the even keel it had first portrayed, the Night Elf blowing bangs out of her eyes. "We are all allied regardless of our individual organizations, whether we refuse to admit it or not. Words are said when battle and wound converge, and I take none of them personally. Trigin has things he needs to protect, and whatever he feels he needs to do to protect them, I find no fault in."

She pushed her chair back, standing as she grabbed her tabard from the back of the chair. "If he is alive, and fighting, that is all I have any care for. I hope Bloodsworn benefits as much from his help, as the Watch did. When he calls for help, I will always answer."

She tugs her tabard on, glaring at the goblin for a brief but intense moment, her voice snapping again. "The next time you bother me, it better be over something actually important. I don't care for the sensationalism of your readers, goblin."

With that she left the inn, flipping a coin to the startled barkeep before melding into the crowded Dalaran street outside. It wasn't until the goblin's heart started beating again...that he realized his notepad was blank...

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