Balheim

Information

Player: Waffenbaum

Character Full Name: Balheim, son of Bjorgrim

Character In-Game Name: Balheim

Nickname(s): Bearslayer, Bjorgrimsson, Katevala

Association(s): Tuskarr

Strenuous Association(s): Frostborn, Alliance Expeditionary Forces

Race: Northrend Dwarf

Class: Warrior

Age: 128

Sex: Male

Hair: Eggshell white

Skin: Light, with slightly more and tougher hair than the dwarves of the Easten Kingdom

Eyes: Dark brown

Weight: 196lbs. (88kg)

Height: 4'11" (1,50m)

Alignment: Chaotic Good

Appearance

His armor consists of a thick oiled leather jerkin and pants, with soft animal furs on the inside for warmth and comfort. The outside of the leather has both chainmail and plates of steel wrapped over vital spots, to allow for movement in the harsh conditions. Only his helmet and shoulderpads are entirely metal, with carefully crafted splintmail covering his neck and lower arms.

Other: In his braided beard are several beardclasps fashioned from finely carved bone, inscribed with tiny runes.

Personality

Balheim is a survivor, a man who through intuition and experience has managed to stay alive and strong through decades of hardships. Towards strangers, he is short of words and will prefer to act instead of talk whenever possible. He will try to avoid most humanoids if he can, except for those few he deems trustworthy. He is quite superstitious, and in his role as a lorekeeper for his people he has dedicated much of his life to remembering every saga and story by heart. Due to his secluded upbringing, he harbors a severe dislike towards most advanced technology and will refuse to even touch a gun or anything mechanical. Having had no contact with the light, nor any magic beyond runewriting he tends to see "modern" magic as something dangerous and unreliable, and will refuse to subject to magical healing as well no matter how hurt.

Lacking the often-jolly demeanor of his estranged cousins beyond Northrend's jagged coasts, Balheim might appear humorless and droll. He is serious, though never appearing stoic or particularly profound (Though he does posess a great deal of wisdom and common sense). Despite his mistrust of nearly anything with a mind big enough to scheme, he still wanders and explores whenever possible. Rarely staying in one place for more than one night, one might get the impression that he is seeking something, or simply determined to see the world as quietly and inconspicuously as possible.

History

It was during the very beginning of the War of the Three Hammers, when first a small flock of dwarves belonging to the grand Ironforge Clan declared their neutrality amidst the embers of war that threatened to start a wildfire within the hearts and minds of their kin. As tensions grew, so did their numbers and soon more than a hundred individuals had banded together around the common wish to stop what now seemed unavoidable, a civil war that could very well mean the end of all dwarves.

Perhaps it was out of desperation, or maybe for fear of what would have become of them if they had chosen not to fight that the dwarves decided to leave. Lead by their eldest and their strongest, they secured themselves as many gryphons as they possibly could to undertake a grim exodus that would mark them as clanless from the moment they took towards the wild and untamed land of promise. Northrend.

Those who many years later still recalled the Long Flight, did so with pain and sadness in their voices. A bond stronger than life itself had been irrevocably severed by the dwarves decision to seek a better life elsewhere. But although their gryphons were strong, and their riders numbering many of the finest young men and women the Ironforge Clan had raised, the arduous journey still took a horrible toll. Some recall the sudden gusts of wind, threatening to tear away the rider clean from his saddle. Others recalled the unexpected storm that cost dozens of men, women and children their lives. Screams filling the night as yet another gryphon without warning fell from the sky from exhaustion. And then finally, the unbridled cheer and reaffirmation of life the remaining dwarves had felt as they finally saw land in the horizon.

What they found was far from the land of plenty they had hoped for. The resources were sparse; the climate inhospitable beyond compare, and winter never fully seemed to lift its cold grip from their new home. Owing their misfortune solely to the Ironforge Clan and their warlike ways, they named themselves the Ironbane Clan to forever remind all generations of the folly of their kin, and the greed that had torn them apart.

The Ironbane Clan took to the land as well as they could, and in the deepest, coldest reaches of the frozen north they sought their solitude from all those who wished them harm. And there they remained, moving as nomads in the perilous land that surrounded them. Growing strong from the hardships, and wiser from all they saw and did. They adopted many new ways and traditions of marriage, faith and more, to further set themselves apart from what they had left behind.

A hundred and twenty years ago, the wife of Bjorgrim, son of Aeulf, became with child. And during the pitch black night in the flickering light of the oilskin lantern, a son was born into the family. His given name was Balheim, son of Bjorgrim, and his cry was all that could be heard through the blistering howl of the frozen winds.

It did not take long before the Ironbane Clan met the Tuskarr, and despite the dwarves and their reclusive ways, the two people got along quite well. Bjorgrim was among the first of the dwarves to establish trade with these strange long-toothed beings, regarding them with cautious reluctance and suspicion, though greatly admiring their modesty and honor. The Tuskarr talked of the dwarves as a strong and able tribe, and with time even the dwarves abandoned the word “clan” in favor of the better fitting word, “tribe”, thereby proudly showing their their kinship to the peaceful Tuskarr. The dwarves however found no such kinship with the troll tribes of Northrend, and the dwarves made their first bitter enemies in a tragic assault that claimed the lives of many brave guardians and tribesmen. Though outnumbered and ill-equipped for war, the dwarves retaliated again and again, beating their foes back across the snowy borders with furious anger, blow after bloody blow. It was during these times the dwarven spirits of war awakened, and many great sagas were written to commemorate those who died on the field of honor. Balheim, who had long ago learned the art of saga-telling were among those who would sing the praises of their dead comrades as they fought savagely, chanting the ancient words to work their fellow warriors into a fierce bloodlust.

With the arrival of the Alliance during the Third War, the struggle between the trolls and the dwarves dampened, although skirmishes continued to rage between them. The dwarves kept themselves far from the human expeditions, seeing nothing but invaders in league with the Ironforge dwarves. The chaotic events that followed left the Ironbane Tribe with no other option than to relocate and give up their homelands as the undead monstrosities began to wash over Northrend in a wave of relentless slaughter, though many refused to abandon the lands they considered sacred, choosing rather to remain as guardians of burial mounts and shrines. Balheim was among those few who chose to travel abroad instead of following the tribe, letting his rough voice echo throughout the nights of the cold unforgiving north as he chanted the songs of his ancestors.