Marcel

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=Physical Description=
=Personality=
=History=
==And so it begins==
Born into a family of rich and powerful nobles, this boy was given everything. His needs and wants were completely fulfilled in every way. And thus, he had little to worry about, let alone care for. Day and night, the young boy did whatever he was expected to do, and not much else. Most of his free time was spent doing trivial activities, all of which he did half-heatedly. His circle of friends was small, and again, these too were seen as indifferent in his eyes. With Stormwind being built to its former glory, of which he has little recollection of, he found himself lost, out of place in a world of new purpose and valor. 
Things began to change when blazing rumors spread cross Stormwind about mysterious activities happening the north. The rumors were wild, unbelievable even, but this was enough to spark not only his interest, but his father’s as well. For the past years, Marcel’s father had been trying to find Marcel some sort of job or role to fulfill, but his son was always uninterested, especially when it came to the court. So when his son came to him expressing his interest in the matter, Marcel’s fate was sealed. His father had thought up, as in his words, a brilliant plan for his apathetic son. He was to go to Lordaeron to join the Knights of the Silver hand as a shining new Paladin, a warrior of light. Not only would his son be able to see if these rumors were true, but also, Marcel becoming a Paladin would make the family look incredibly good in the eyes of the House of Nobles and also the general populace. The young boy agreed, like he always did, and soon enough he was on way to the bright capital of Lordaeron, seeking something he was all together not too sure of. But like always, he did what he was told. And so Marcel’s adventures begin.
==The Shining Capital==
The young boy reached Lordaeron completely stunned by its beauty and the resolve of its citizens. He had big plans here (or rather his father did) and doubted if anything would get done. His father had every little thing set out for Marcel, leaving no room for mistakes. It was now his time to shine, as his father would say.
Because of his status, his training began immediately.
Although surround by such promise and purpose, Marcel had never felt so lonely. He felt so out of place, more then ever, and he felt like just another hostage in an unfamiliar prison cell, whose fruitless innocence brought about so many unfortunate situations.
Training was a lot harder then he predicted. Marcel had troubles all across the board, especially understanding how to use the Light. This of course only made matters worse for the boy, and thus he continued to brood between lessons and accomplish little of what was set out before him. However, all of this was to changed one fateful day…
==Outbreak In Lordaeron==
Had he not moved and let the fear run its vicious course throughout his body, he would have been gone; one of them. So he ran as fast as he could. The sky turned to ashes as surrounding crowds became decimated within minutes, rising renewed in the vilest forms. So he ran faster, without even looking back. Racing from one building to another he did not stop, for there was nothing left to stop for anymore. Under his breath he prayed to the Light to shine through these dark clouds and to stop everything; however these were empty words only spoken out of desperation. He silently knew his fate. Tears flowed down his cheeks as he soon noticed he was no longer running with anyone, he was now completely alone in the overshadowing silence. He looked around frantically trying to make sense of all the thoughts burning in his head, attempting so desperately not to think of the surrounding dread. Until suddenly, an unworldly cry not too far ahead broke the deafening silence, leaving him dazed. He hesitated forward, and stepped back. 
Hopelessness pulsed through him leaving him powerless, but in a sense, this is what gave him strength. What boiled inside him now begged not only to burst in a sprint forward, aimlessly in the dusk for the chilling cry, but to rage forth his anger, desperation, and above all else his retribution. 
 
Plunging onward he begged under his breath for the unknown victim to cry once more, just once more, so he’d know where to go. After passing a few houses he heard a faint whimper; he was getting closer. It grew louder with every staggering step he took. Even though he himself had no idea what he could possibly do, he kept moving, running with his eyes half opened now. 
Until suddenly he came to a complete stop. 
Any trace of valor and vengeance left in his body poured out, leaving him cold, frozen, and worse, broken. The warmth in every drop of his blood slowly drained from him, making him cringe as he gave way to the frosty chill. He was defeated. What lay before this defeated young man were the fresh corpses of an innocent family. A woman whose trashed neck bled it’s warmth to the frost, two children whose carved surfaces stained the ground with their innocence, and the remnants of a strong man whose body laid solid beneath the dark beasts which destroyed his family. Through the soulless lights in their eyes, in the moment between moments, he saw how fragile life is; for something so pure to be shattered, broken into many pieces so easily, was beyond him. “How could something so wonderful end so abruptly…so violently?” he thought to himself as he fell to his knees, defeated in every sense of the word. What happened next is not too clear, even to Marcel. All he remembers is the being pulled back by red shields and knights far from that from the lifeless family, on to a ship bound to Stormwind, home.