Brutallus is a Pit Lord, the most feared combatant of the Annihilan. Whilst other Pit Lords have a much greater understanding of tactics, strategy and the arcane arts, none can compare to Brutallus' brute strength and blood lust. Suprisingly for such a large being, Brutallus is agile and lightning fast which has been the undoing of the few creatures that have attempted to face him toe to toe.
Brutallus is Azgalor's most lethal weapon and even he is loathe to interrupt the Pit Lord from his blood hungry rampage across the Twisting Nether. The Annihilan command hierarchy is based on raw power and many question why Brutallus has not risen to overthrow Azgalor as the Demon King of the Pit Lords. But he has no wish for power and no care for whom he takes commands from, so long as he can continue his quest for battle.
Brutallus does not take the apperance of a normal Pit Lord. The most notable feature is that his hands are actually weapons, as opposed to wielding the traditional Pit Lord's Glaive. During the Burning Legion's first invasion of Azeroth Brutallus was introduced as a counter to the Dragon's attempt to aid the Elves. Before Neltharion's betrayal, Brutallus along with three other Pit Lord's entered Azeroth at the request of Archimonde to attempt to smash through a flank that the Moon Guard were holding against Archimonde's Fel Guards. Unkown to Archimonde however, the Red Dragonflight had attempt to back up the posistion when the oncoming attack was predicted. Brutallus and his Pit Lord's came charging onto the flank, the earth shaking as their heavy hooves smashed the ground asunder. They scattered the ranks of the Moonguard with great scything sweeps of their glaives sending showers of bone, blood and armour flying in all directions. Just as the Moonguard were about to flee, three great dragons descended from the sky in sheets of flame. One of the Pit Lord's went down immediately in cries of pain as he burnt alive, the rallied Moon Guard rushing forward to drive four foot long pikes into his fallen body. Encouraged by prescence of the dragons the elves once more manned their posistions, huge glaives thrown by war machines cutting down a second Pit Lord in a shower of black blood. The dragons moved in on Brutallus and the other Pit Lord, Nabthorus. With the Dragons blocking their firing line the Elves were forced to watch the coming combat.
Nabthorus and Brutallus were back to back as the dragons circled them, huge beasts covered in shining red and gold scales. They breathed in deep breaths and before the Pit Lords could react flames shot forth to incinerate them. Both Pit Lords managed to bring their wings out, too small to fly with but strong enough to protect them from the dragons flames. The temperature rose though and Brutallus' wings began to smolder as they caught fire. Enraged by the pain and being forced to take the defensive, Brutallus went into an all out frenzy, leaping forward to cannon into one of the dragons, bowling it to the floor where he swiftly pounced on it. Raising his great glaive above his head he brought it smashing down onto the dragons neck, severing it cleanly with one massive stroke. The other two dragons had pounced on Nabthorus who had managed to slice a deep wound in the larger of the two dragons leg before being borne to the ground, desperately fending off the two dragons attacks as their razor sharp teeth and claws ripped his demonic skin to tatters.
Exposed to the elves now, Brutallus roared a other worldly scream before charging at the two dragons under a hail of spears and arrows pelting from the elves. His left wing was now in tatters, still smoldering from the flames and perforated by hundreds of tiny arrows. One of the dragons leapt to meet him and the two crashed together with a thundering crunch that sent nearby elves flying to the ground from the reverbarations. Losing grip of his Glaive as they rolled to the ground Brutallus scabbled round to grasp the Dragons neck as the two rolled wildly across the clearing. Elves fled in all directions but many were too slow, being crushed by the great titans locked in struggle. Brutallus' arms were covered in bites and gushing black blood making the great Dragon even more slippery and harder to grasp, but Brutallus managed to gain his feet and slide round to grip the Dragon round the neck. Shifting his hands to the dragons head he clamped a hand on either side of its jaw. Its mouth bellowed flames in protest, searing the flesh from Brutallus' hands but with an almighty effort he pulled as hard as he could, ripping the dragons lower jaw from its skull. The dragon flailed wildly, its mighty tail smashing into Brutallus and sending him flying to the ground before it took to the skies. It flew fast and far, a stream of blood flowing to the ground behind it before it fell back to the ground and smashed into a nearby forest, still and unmoving once the dust had cleared.
Brutallus barely had time to stand before he heard a roar of anguish, turning back to where the now still body of Nabthorus lay, his head lying a full fifteen feet from the corpse below the blood covered visage of the great Red Dragon. The dragon began to charge head on at Brutallus and he grasphed for his glaive but his scorched and tattered hands could not grasp its hilt. With a cry of frustration he charged the oncoming dragon, rolling to the side at the last second to avoid another head on impact as he glanced off the dragons shoulder and span round to grip the dragon around its enormous torso. With all his strength Brutallus squeezed as hard as he could, hearing ribs crack beneath the effort. The dragon wasn't dying without a fight though, his front feet flailing widly and tearing Brutallus left flank to shreds. The dragons head snapped at his face, his arms, anything to stop the pressure. Another rib cracked and the dragon shrieked, this time louder and more desperate. It sank its mighty jaws on his left arm as he gave the final squeeze, an almighty crack sounded before the dragon flopped to the ground, its massive spine snapped like a twig.
Brutallus surveyed the field as the elves began to flee in terror. He let out a roar of victory before hearing something nearby. Turning he returned to the scorched corpse of his first brother to fall.
"Help...me..." the pit lord said in a faint voice.
Brutallus looked down with disgust at the creature, a burnt husk of its former self.
"You are pathetic and weak, you make me sick!" he said before raising himself on his back legs, his two mighty front legs coming down to cave in the fallen Pit Lords skull.
With another bestial roar that rocked the small valley he set off in a gallop after the fleeing Elves, lost in the fury of battle.
Despite the injuries he suffered in the battle Brutallus continued to play a huge role in the war and was deployed to break the lines where the enemy was holding strong versus Archimonde's other attacks. He survived to flee through the portal when it was clear that Archimonde's forces were going to be defeated. His broken body was reinforced by the Gan'arg Doomsmiths, his left fore arm having to be removed entirely as the bone was shattered and hanging off where the dragon had bit him in its death throes. Instead he had his forearm replaced with a mighty curved blade. He adopted a similar blade in his right hand, as well as having huge metal spikes added to his armour and replacing one of his shattered tusks. His wings the smiths could do nothing for, only the stubs remained, charred and twisted. Now scar covered and in constant pain, Brutallus is an even more brutal opponent as he continues his warpath across the galaxy, subduing planet after planet for the Burning Legion. All the while the surviving elves of the Sunwell's implosion dread the day that Brutallus should return to Azeroth...