Tzar'ai 'Tzurkir' 

Background

Prologue: 

There isn't much to say.  Tzar'ai was born a Darkspear and raised in Stranglethorn Vale, later travelling with his tribe to the Echo Isles, and further into Durotar.  He was never told that the crazed priest who drove them from the Echo Isles was Zalazane.  His parents were killed during the Third War, and he was watched over by other members of the tribe.  Now that he's come of age, he has plegded himself to the Horde as a warrior among them, wishing to not be tied down to one 'trick' as it were.  He's an avid herbalist and alchemist, stemming from his heritage as a Jungle Troll, and loves nature, not to quite the same extent as a Night Elf, however.  He also likes cooking, and someday hopes to master the art, though at the moment his dishes would be more easily described as completely inedible.

The name stems from a corruption of the Zandali word for blade, and his nickname a corruption of '(be)serker'.  As the name suggests, he is loyal to his weapons and will give his aid to whoever needs it, be they Horde or Alliance.  He suscribes to the belief that wisdom comes from solitude, without outside distraction, so he can often be found just by himself, with Scabaras, the pet cockroach he bought in Undercity.

Chapter 1: 

He travelled to the Tirisfal Glades after leaving Durotar, in the aim of exploring the lost kingdom of Lordaeron, and in learning more about the Forsaken as a people, not quite believing all the bad press they got back home.  He made his residence in Brill, and struck up friendships with the citizens there.

When travelling amid the Ghostlands, he came across a Blood Elf dying of plague, and with the aid of an Apothecary, managed to bring him back from the brink, unfortunately contracting the disease in the process from the blood samples he took.  Driven insane for the following three days, he firmly believed that his pet roach was the avatar of a Loa, and that he was perfectly healthy and didn't need any help. 

A full day after the Harvest Song festival, he died, and was carried to Deathknell by the people of Brill, where he arose and attacked anyone within sight, before regaining his free will.  He is currently adapting to his new 'life' as a Forsaken.
Beginnings - Death isn't a bad Life...

Chapter 2:

His reputation among the Forsaken, the Society, and among his own kin has steadily grown, and he's now become quite a well-respected Apothecary in his own right, having treated over a dozen different types of injuries.  His mind has, however, been getting slightly darker.  Not quite as friendly as he once was, he's now no longer above cold-blooded murder, extortion or treachery.  His skills have grown as well, he can harness the power of runes to command an object, living, dead or undead, and even managed to extract a recipe for a weak mind-altering brew from one of the witch-doctors.
"Loa Watch You." - Ossuomancy

Chapter 3:

Recently he has set up an organization made of Apothecaries, Scholars, Magi, Healers, Doctors and all manner of men and women interested in combating the Plague of Undeath.  He has also been granted enough respect among his kin to be given the task of communicating with the Sandfury Tribe in Tanaris about the New 'Golden Age'.

The Society, deciding that his services weren't needed in Tirisfal any longer, moved him to Gadgetzan, which lacked a permanent post before.  Now he spends his days there, travelling to Undercity about once a month to report on his findings.  He prefers this as it allows him greater freedom to research things forbidden by the Society.

Finally, he also had a run-in with the Loa Hakkar, when he was inadvertantly sacrificed on the Faceless One's altar in Atal'Hakkar.  This experience opened up the Spirit World to him for a short time, and stirred him up to really work hard on a cure for the Plague, seeing the suffering spirits of the Scourge bound to their rotting bodies.

Najih - For Whom the Gong Tolls...

Chapter 4:

The Royal Society, deciding amongst themselves that the "Cures and Antivenoms" department was no longer an asset to the 'great work', scrapped the branch of the Society and offered everyone in it a different job.  Except for one troll who slipped through the paperwork since he was posted in Tanaris, and hey, he's a troll, it's not like he matters, or that he's going to care, will he?

So, Tzurkir, having been made redundant and given up on the futile aim of creating a cure for the Plague, has decided to offer his services elsewhere.
The Plague - An Evening at I.H.O.M.