| Andrew Lincoln | |
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 "A suspicious mind is a healthy mind." | |
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Alive |
Stormwind City is a corrupt place with many creaks and crevices, and in these dark places hides the many faces of heresy. It could be a stranger, a friend, a leader, or even your own mother. None are above suspicion in the eyes of Andrew Lincoln. He, as an inquisitor, roams the city streets wielding absolute authority in the eyes of the Witchbane. Purgation is his duty, the act of ending heresy in its very tracks and leaving Stormwind pure in the eyes of the light.
Early Life
Childhood
Northshire Abbey is the home of the religious order of clerics known as the Brotherhood of Northshire. It is located in the foothills of Elwynn Forest as a nestled, peaceful place.
As the child of Abraham and Mary, farmers who worked the Osworth Vineyards, Andrew had very humble beginnings. He was first brought under the tutorlage of the priesthood in the role of altar boy. His duties were few, gathering wine for prayer, carrying the scrawled parchment of the scrying monks, and even offering a helping hand to merchants when he could, but he found solace in the light. These activities kept his occupied and away from the grunt work of the world. It gave him purpose, a purpose that would go to drive him further than many would've expected.
Training
A Young Andrew
Years passed and with it Andrew went through every role that he could. There wasn't a tome he didn't read, a prayer he didn't learn. Still, he had a hard time harnessing the light for he was not trained as a paladin, nor even a priest for that matter. It started as mere secrets whispered from ear to ear, but that distrust that festered in his mind became more and more fervent with each passing day. Paranoia made him impure in the mind and it was not long before he sought avenues to end this putrefaction once and for all. It was a dream far fetched, but not one out of reach he thought.
What was one puritan's garbs were adulterated with armor and weapons; a crossbow and hatchet. He was flimsy at first with no formal training, no true swordsman in his blood, and no prestige at his back. A few whacks at the dummies and good few licks upon his head were enough to temper him at first. He was lucky to have patience as a virtue, for others who had tried to follow in his footsteps failed miserably. He, instead, persevered and became what could only be called a 'witchhunter.'
Witches
It started off as witches, for they were the plague of peaceful place. Poisoning the
Burning A Heretic
wells, seducing the men, culling the children... all acts of pure and utter evil – all things that disgusted Andrew. At first he got lost in the glory of it. He was a young man after all and the attention women gave to heroes was all to welcoming. It was a celebration every time he burned a witch's body with dancing and drinking. The smiles faded in time though and people knew what he really was, because there were only so many witches in this world; heresy did not end there.
When it came to people, actual people, the citizens of the towns and the little farmsteads scattered about, there were no more cheers. There were screams and cries, people pleading for him to be merciful, but he couldn't be. It was his -duty- after all, the thing he swore to be higher than any other act. Punishment was required, needed, and dealt. Lashings, burnings, brandings, and even execution, all in the name of a holy deity. This man was no puritan in the eyes of the people, but a plague. When they could, they ran him out, when they couldn't, they suffered. Guards tried to intervene, but guile proved too worthy for their ignorance. Andrew's reign of terror over the homefront was unending.
The Witchbane
A single man could only do so much, couldn't fight so many things. What has it that a man like he could change the world? There was no hope for anything more than a scratch at the surface and he knew it. That one thing that had driven him all these years, that paranoia, it had to be contained for him to continue. Trust... such a simple word. Trust was something he had to master in order to rid the world of evil.
Signatures
Congregation At Northshire
Andrew returned to Northshire and the brotherhood and garnered what support he could. Some knew of his terror, others knew of his good deeds, but in the end it took only the funding to garner a charter in their name. He scoured the span of the Eastern Kingdoms in search of the purest and most worthy souls for this venture.
What he found was not as he expected, but it was what was required. Vetano Van Der Riet, a veteran of the wars against the Scourge. A man who had suffered more than even Andrew could endure. He was broken, destroyed, but his faith was absolute and true. Another he was found was also true, but not broken in the slightest. This man, Kalarus Dakari, was a warrior of justice and good who sought to end all chaos in this world. Chaos was not Andrew's enemy, but he was certainly not one to pass up this opportunity. With these signatures it was deemed that they would be the Order of the Witchbane, or Witchbane for short.
Inquisition
For the longest time Andrew held not a single title nor position. He was man free of any responsibility, seeing fit to spend all of his time hunting and slaying. Now he was an inquisitor, a leader, and at first a very bad one at that. What little training he had picked up was only in the act of combat and prayer, not in the act of management. Months passed until he understood what it took to make it work, and it was bumpy road indeed. People died for his inexperience – something that weighted on his shoulders heavily. It taught him a valuable lesson and he used that to forge a command structure within his order. Commissars were to be his allies in controlling the subordinates. Branches were created, and a system for recruitment too crafted in the minds of these pious men.
Finally, they were able to do what was needed. An inquisition was called on Stormwind City by Andrew. Door to door he's goes now with an entire convent behind him, tearing people from their homes, abducting them in the streets, and punishing them for their sins. Torture, deprivation, and penance. Makeshift dungeons were made, devices purchased, and conflicting views. Truly, what was meant to be something so good was so bad.
Imprisonment
Times became rough with the arrival of a man named John Sterling, who saw fit to declare an official inquisition upon the Witchbane. Despite his later betrayal of the church, the damage had already been done. Andrew found himself between his own faith and the canon law. They questioned his belief in the Good Book and his torturous methods, but in turn he denounced them for their corruption and the act of murder. Several times did the two groups butt heads, the Lightwardens leading the charge, and despite Lord-Cardinal Popohnia Fitzerhernn being shot and much public support swaying for the witchhunter, it all came toppling down.
Near the end of the struggle, when peace was to be made, Andrew was attacked by two knights and then bombed by agents of the church. It left him a bloody mess that could hardly stand. He was drug out like a pitiful excuse for a man and taken to the guards. The charge of his crimes left him alone in the Stockades to suffer. Time passed and people moved on. Popohnia, who had came to see the Witchbane as redeemers as well as heretics, offered her forgiveness to Andrew. She paid his bail and he was released.
What Andrew saw on the outside disturbed him greatly. In the absence of Witchbane, doomsayers became rampant over Stormwind, the Legion invaded, the King was murdered, and even the demonic Illidari were offered safe haven within the streets. Hell broke loose. Knowing that he could not stand by and allow such putrescence to spread, he once again picked up his crossbow and went to work.
Clergy of the Holy Light
Six days after Andrew's release, the Witchbane was operating throughout Stormwind once again. This time though, an understanding had been made with the church, specifically with the College of Canons. While the meetings between the Archbishop, Alonsus II, and he were brief, they brought about large steps of progress. An agreement was made and the Witchbane would never be persecuted for their faith again. Instead, Andrew had secured them a place within the branch of Inquiry.
Relationships
Family
Andrew's parents are alive and well, though broke thanks to the efforts of the Blackrock Clan. From time to time they visit him, but have never been approving of his ways. They thought him to be a sweet child, but they were wrong. They raised a monster and they knew it. It's a relationship of fear, for at any moment he could sentence his own parents to death.
Friends
In the eyes of Andrew, there is no such thing as a true friend. The ones he considers close are also the ones he trusts the least. He knows that at any moment, when his life is in their hands, that they could drive the dagger through his very back and end his miserable life. Every bland meal is met with stare across the table, hoping that his companion doesn't stab a fork through his throat. Pure and utter stress reeks in this man's mind, while those who consider him a friend merely see a loyal ally.
Combat
Crossbow & Hatchet
Andrew wields a very strange set of weaponry, one not traditional in any way. Unlike the military, he does not use formal footing or even understand what true, honorable combat feels like. He is a rogue in that sense, using whatever tricks he needs at that moment to his avail. A crossbow is his main offense against the forces of heresy. Despite its single shot use before reloading, he had augmented that single shot to be quite powerful. Using vigorous inscription he had enchanted this weapon to fire righteous fury at his enemies. This, paired with silvered bolts, is truly a witchslayer. Melee though has little place for a weapon like a crossbow, and instead he wields a mere hatchet. Its design is simple, but like the crossbow he had ensured its potency. The blade is cured in holy water so that it my hack through any shadowy magics.
The Light
Andrew has little ability in the light, able to conjure only the most basic of spells. In order to combat warlocks and zombies a man must have faith. For this, he uses conduits or sorts – relics that allow him to channel the holy power of above and cast down his enemies. Sigils, scrolls, and even prayer beads he utilizes as weapons. It makes a very strange and unique fighting style, sometimes dual wielding what to most would be nothing more than two crossed sticks. In his hands, however, it is enough to banish the sinner from wence they came.