|Guild||Den of the Haemonculi|
|Faction||The Den, Horde|
The long dead noble Lord DeFace has once been a wealthy man of influence and power. This influence aided him in surviving the Undead Plague, but when the Forsaken have started retaking the land in their own name, he gave up on his ambitions to have his own land.
Hired Necromancers of Scholomance prepared a ritual to turn him into an undead, but before the notorious scourgelings could bind his will to the Lich King, he had them murdered by his hirelings. Remnants of his personality remained, amongst them boundless malice, no sense of real morality and the ambitions to become a Lord once more. Sacrificing one bodyguard, merc and family member after another to unknown entities hinted to be trusted by the Forsaken, he became the focus of demonic beings he soon bound to his own will, eradicating their entire personality to be mere puppets to use.
Leading by example and a steel grip, he assumed positions of Arch Priest, Grand Champion or Warlord, he explored most aspects of the New Horde's administration, making contacts, acquintances and business partners where ever he could. A temporary disappearance followed his short reign over the covert branch of the Apothecary, the Den of the Haemonculi, months before the Scourge Invasion even occurred. His official explanation was to test the necrodermis his collegues designed into an armor he wore.
He reappeared after the catastrophic battle of the Wrath Gate in Northrend, weak in soul and body in the Plaguelands, only to be taken by wandering Ghouls to Acherus. The seething corruption entombed Lord DeFace into his armor, the once mechanical parts infused with necromatic energies, molding into a brutal, spiked battlearmor protecting a hollow set of bones below the neck, stripped clean of flesh by the menacing, blighted insects that surround the interior of the armor.
Once he and the rest of the Ebon Blade had been broken free of Arthas' grasp by Tirion, he had immediately begun training, getting used to his newfound powers and skills. Reorganising the now devastated Apothecarium under his leadership, The Den of the Haemonculi rose up once more as the leading unit of research and covert operations within the Undercity, not answering to anyone, only providing some results to officials.
Only on a collegue status within the Den, he's also a resourceful business partner with numerous individuals on Azeroth. He has no relatives left as they have been slaughtered by the creatures of Azeroth or himself.
The person you're looking at bears the hallmarks of what the New Horde and the Alliance call "Death Knights". His armor is covered with spikes and blades, while scarcely appearing insects travel from one opening to another, marking his appearance before he enters a room by occasion. Even though they seem to be blighted, the small insects look harmless.
On closer inspection, his face features look remarkably healthy. There are no signs of disease or carrion-chewed necrosis and his totally hairless head and teeth even seem to show signs of overall and dental hygiene. However, this seemingly living state abruptly ends at his neck where his necrodermis has grown to his skin, the corruption and rot carried with it infecting a small line around the parts his body and armor connect.
His armor, besides looking like something a juggernaut of war would wear, has numerous ornaments on it. Most of them are tools of inflicting pain, such as hooks, pliers and distintively shaped and edged knives, but there are also vials and syringes hanging from some of his visible armor platings. Even though the necrodermis covers almost all of his body perfectly, a few dents and faulty joints let you glimpse into the inner cavity: Where you'd expect meat, you can only see bare bones, stripped clean of flesh and tissue, on occasion glowing with a sickly green aura that shivers across the armor itself.
His weapon looks usually an extension of his armor, and due to their visibly unorthodox nature of combined Engineering and magic, they don't seem to rust or encumber the wearer, always in prime condition when in or out of combat.
"Death to ALL who oppose the Berserkers of Yvorl!"
"For Chaos, For Death, For Yvorl!"
"It is unwise to challenge the Den...Really, really unwise."