Balthair

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Information

Player: Rigley

Character Full Name: Balthair Johannes Landon

Character In-Game Name: Balthair

Nickname(s): Balth, Bala, ‘Mr. Landon’

Association(s): Formerly of Gilneas. Now holds no strong ties.

Race: Human

Class: Gunman

Age: 57

Sex: Male

Hair: Black, streaked with gray. Has a goatee, and hair which reaches down to his shoulders.

Eyes: Brown

Weight: 210

Height: 6’1”

Appearance

Tends to wear dark clothing. Wears little in terms of armor, usually a light chain cuirass draped over his chest. He often wears suits and other formal wear, and tends to sport a wide-brimmed hat and a monocle when out and about. Almost always has a rifle slung along his back.

Other: -

Personality

Alignment: Neutral

Balthair is a bit of a puzzle. He tends to have a calm and collected façade when in public, though this all serves to mask a rather rage-filled man beneath. He has little in a sense of honor but will not allow his name to be slandered, and despite a sophisticated manner of speech he is very quick to anger and nothing short of bloodthirsty when he finds himself truly offended by another. At times a kinder side to him may be visible, but more often than not that is snuffed out mere moments later. When around those he is comfortable with he is much more morose and reserved; he prefers to be solitary if possible, though has no fear of socializing.

History

The Landons were, by all accounts, a very successful family in Gilneas. The family was one entrenched in the trade of the merchants, and even the dimmest of the lineage was said to be born with a silver spoon in their mouth. For their ever strong line of patriarchs though, success was hardly enough. Throughout the generations the family had extended itself, seeking to become one on par with the noble houses amongst the wealthy nation. Each child was raised with this goal in mind—be it in their own interests or not. Around the time of the second war, it was Balthair who was the ‘heir’ to the family. Amongst the trio of siblings he was the one with the crafty mind; always conniving other children out of their coin and not without a mind for persuasion when confronted about the issue. Where his brothers Jude and Salvatore grew up seeking out the ways of the priesthood and the prestige of knighthood respectively he was fully engrossed in speechcraft. Some said he would make a fair rogue, if he had a love for the blade instead of his preference for firearms. His childhood was practically smothered beneath the priming of his father, as were his younger years as a teen; it was a steady curriculum of lessons, lectures, anything to tweak the minute details of the young man and mold him into the perfect patriarch that his father wanted from him.For a while he was in service alongside his father at the family store, though as he came of age and finished his preliminary schooling he was sent out into the world to garner some wealth of his own.

His early years on the road were brimming with success. He had no intention of returning home in any quick accord, largely just awaiting a day when his father might summon him; with that in mind he traveled abroad in the northern kingdoms, visiting Arathi, Alterac, and even Dalaran while he journeyed about in search of wares to trade. Ultimately he came to settle down in Brill, having accumulated a fair enough wealth and stock to hold a proper business. While at first Balthair only meant his residence there to be temporary, his forays into a social life led him to become infatuated with a young woman by the name of Sylvia. While she was certainly not one of the elite, indeed being of the lower class, it was her personality and elegance which compelled him to seek her out.

She was simply radiant; and though her clothes were ragged and commonly patched, there was a kind of pride that he found amongst her still. Though she was humble she was not lowly, and her quiet voice hid a brilliant mind behind it. Despite his once single-minded search for wealth Balthair found himself settling down with her in a larger home in Brill. For a few years they toiled and endured together, and while repairs and expenditures took their toll upon Balthairs reserves of coin he didn’t mind. All of his grooming and preparation for life amongst the heavy-handed politics of Gilneas seems so fruitless now. He was happy, even if he was so far from what he was once meant to achieve.

It was not many seasons after marriage that a child was conceived. Though the pair welcomed a new addition to their family with open arms, the process was not so kind to Sylvia. Her lithe body was not one which took the childbirth well, and she was bedridden for some time afterwards, leaving Balthair to care for both their child and her own well being. Their child was named Samantha, and despite hard times falling upon the family shortly after her birth Balthair wished to raise her well. It was indeed not long after that Balthair came to a staggering realization—all of his funds were gone. What was once a healthy sum had been depleted to a meager wage a month, and his poor habits of spending only had accelerated the fall. He knew that his family would not last in good comfort with the meager pay, and so he sought out help from the only place he knew to turn—his family of Gilneas.

It wasn’t the best of plans; indeed, in hindsight he should have known better when he sent that letter seeking the generosity of his father. It was only when the curt reply came that his true situation dawned upon him. It was upon a finely decorated piece of stationary, stamped with the family seal. Upon the page there lay only two lines.

‘So you have a family now, boy? Let us meet them.’

The trip to Gilneas was perhaps the longest voyage which Balthair had ever taken. Though Sylvia attempted to comfort him there were no real words that rang true, for she could not know what kind of people awaited them beyond the gates of Gilneas’ capitol city. In his time abroad he had learned just how disconnected his family was in comparison to the normal villagers like his wife. Like him, now. Nonetheless the coach pulled up before the Landon estate, and they disembarked.

Balthair was met with little more than cold silence. Polite disdain greeted him from the moment he approached the front door to the manor, his father standing with arms crossed, peering into his eyes through the tinted spectacles that rested upon his nose. Greetings were short. Banter was forced. By the time they reached their room for their brief stay Balthair’s face was drained, and it was all the effort that he could manage that he did not simply flee the estate then and there. In between the silent meals and now stilted conversations with his wife his father would approach him. Their talks were short, and very one-sided. I am disappointed. We expected better of you. Why a peasant? Why a commoner from such a speck of a town?

The questions came from all sides, and for the first time Balthair felt a deep shame. They left the estate empty handed, as his father had no interest in providing for a wayward son—but Balthair did carry something home with him, and despite his spouse’s pleas it was never to leave his mind. The happiness he had once held in Brill was gone, and replaced only with discomfort and a weight of failure. The only solace was his daughter; though he had become hardened towards the two women of the household he still silently praised Samantha as she grew. Despite the squalor they lived in (the squalor he was once so proud of), she was a proper young woman. Under his guiding hand she was shaped into the model of the dames of Gilneas; and while Sylvia watched on with disapproval as he forced their daughter into the ways of a class she had no true place amongst, she said nothing. She had grown remorseful of her husband, the man who once spoke so kindly and acted so generously for her having been washed away, replaced only with stern disapproval and weary retorts.

She said little, and eventually said nothing at all. She had become nothing but a backdrop to Balthair’s life—a silent protester as he stormed through the home in a rage when his ventures failed, fearful of stopping him as he lectured and demeaned her child with his virulent words. She spoke, but was not heard—and she dared not to shout, for she had seen his fists clench and his arms shake with anger whenever she dared to intercede against him. Years of stress drove a wedge between Balthair and his daughter and wife, and each expenditure was only more fuel to the flame. If something was broken, Balthair was to be paid back in return. Even as his obsessive nature with his business led them back to a small form of profit there was nothing to be gained for the household, only the store and its owner. New imports to display, new decorations to embellish the building—the resurfaced drive which fueled his father and the generations before him stopped for no one. As the years went by he softened some… but not enough. Ever stern, ever judging, he still lorded over the family as if he was hardly a part of it at all. Only an observer, critiquing every mannerism and every flaw. The only time his guard fell was around the winter holidays—even then he was stoic and distant, but in the least he found the time to grant Samantha some gift of his ‘affection’. Dresses bought from his homeland mostly, a music box one year, only small trinkets in which he found his own interpretation of value.

As the Third War began, news from Gilneas reached Balthair. It took many more weeks than when first sent; he had long ago stopped caring for the post received at home, and instead engrossed himself in the trade agreements and the like which came to his shop. Eventually though, a letter arrived which he gave the presence of mind to read;

‘Gilneas’ gates shall close soon. Are you so ready to throw your life and your family away for the life of a peasant?’

Come morning the next day, Balthair was gone, and with him all the coin which supported the family. On the trek down the road of Silverpine he fought a grueling battle with the voices within his head; one side seeking justification, the other seeking—no, pleading for him to turn and go back to his home. Three days into his travel he found himself stopped, able to see the mighty fortifications of the Greymane wall from the distance. It was the sight of those great stone barriers rising from the mountains that recalled to him what his home had really been to him. A symbol of oppression. A confining cage, and one which had brought him nothing but stress and despair. Without any word to the party of kinsmen that had travelled with him he turned, bid them farewell, and marched back to Brill.

The journey was yet another three days, arriving in the dead of night as he came upon the village. When he knocked at the door there was no one to greet him; and entering in he found nothing but silence and stillness. It was only when he reached the bedroom that he realized what had happened. The blood-stained sheets, the knife discarded on the floor… the portrait which lay, glass shattered, against the far side of the room…

“She’s dead, you know” rang a voice from behind. It was one of the guardsmen of the town, who had likely seen his entrance into the home.

“But… how?”

“Left alone without a copper nor a family to turn to. I should ask you how” answered the footman, his disgust evident in his bitter voice.

“And the girl—Samantha?” he questioned on, his voice quivering as he uttered his child’s name.

“In the abbey, just north of town. Don’t go get her. Don’t even speak to her. You’ve done enough.”

Balthair’s fists clenched, though as he approached his rage was turned to fear as he saw the guardsman place his hand on the hilt of his blade.

“Give me a reason to cut you down. Go ahead. Bring up your fists. You deserve a fate worse than death for what you’ve done to Sylvia and that child.”

The guard’s voice was like a blade itself, and it cut deeper with each phrase that left his mouth. For a brief moment there was silence between the pair, broken only by footfalls as Balthair fled the cottage, fighting back his tears until he was away from the guard’s judging gaze. He knew he was right. His pride was wounded, and so was his aching heart, revived anew in his grief.

Balthair took the guardsman’s advice. With his final gesture to his family he sought out the meager grave his wife and pled his forgiveness to the wooden symbol of the Light which jutted from the earth before it. As he left he gave a healthy sum to the church; hoping that in some way it might reach his daughter, for he had no heart to approach her himself. With his spirit renewed and then swiftly broken he made way out from Brill, back to Gilneas.

However, by the time he arrived the nation had closed its gates. He came upon the great wall which jutted up from before the town of Pyrewood and those who dwelled in its shadow, cursing that great barrier and lamenting for entrance back into that land they once knew as home. Balthair did not join them. Instead he simply left the Greymane Wall and continued on his way, down the cobbled path and on to wherever it may lead. Since then he has traveled far and wide, serving as little more than a hired blade to meet his needs.

Skills and Abilities

-Balthair is a gunman. While his past did not lend him to be an amazingly skilled fighter, many years as a hired gun has brought him a fair amount of skill with firearms.

-He has some proficiency with a blade, though nothing to boast over.