Beldrin

Information

Player: IsolimTso

Character Full Name: Beldrin Longrifle IV

Character In-Game Name: Beldrin

Nickname(s): 'Baldie'

Association(s): Ironforge, various Mercenary Groups

Race: Dwarf

Class: Hunter

Skills and Abilities: Excels at shooting things. And drinking. Lots of drinking. He is also handy with an axe, although he would prefer to bash his enemies over the head with the butt of his rifle, then shoot them in the face.

Age: 63

Sex: Male

Hair: None on top of his head, long, oranged braided beard.

Eyes: Blue

Weight: 218

Height: 4'9"

Appearance

Usual Garments/Armor: Clothed in typical Dwarven garments, or midget-sized versions of the Human's fashion about ten years ago. When in armor, he wears chain-mail laced with animal pelt for mobility, and carries a large halberd. And of course his rifle. Oh, don't forget the extra tankard!

Personality

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

Since the Third War, and the ending of the "War of the Dead," as he calls it, he has been travelling Azeroth with various mercenary groups, gathering gold, gambling it away, drinking, and putting almost all of his misery behind him. Almost. He still loathes the Undead, Scourge or otherwise, and will always attempt to kill any non-Death Knight Undead on the spot. His detest for elves has somewhat lessened, but still prefers the company of arse-kicking Dwarves.

History

Beldin Longrifle IV was born and raised in the Hinterlands. However, his father was killed in an accident involving axes and ale. His mother raised him from birth, caring and feeding him. About the age of fourteen, he snuck into his father's untouched weapons room, and retrieved his father's blunderbuss. At about three in the morning, he tried to kill a boar with it, and ended up brusied, broken, and happy. He just loved the noise of it!

From that point on, he would travel to the barracks, just to hear the hammers and axes ring, the sound of steel on steel, and the ultimate pleasure and feeling the great boom of a rifle. At night, he secreted away from his home, and just shot his father's rifle. Deciding that learning on the fly wasn't working, he sought out a teacher. Which meant nothing more than shooting living things. He carried that blunderbuss everywhere, and was quick to proficiency.

When he was of age, he decided to move on with his life. He kissed his mother farewell, and joined the other dwarves at Ironforge against the Horde. He saw masses of orcs, undead, and many other things he will probably never speak of again. His brother in arms was raised against him by a necromancer, and he had to slay him. Twice! He soon grew tired, and depressed at the thought of losing more and more of his brothers, and he deserted. Now, instead of combating "evil" as any young dwarf should, he hangs himself in a tankard, alone in life, save for the ring of steel in his ears, the boom of his blunderbuss, and the quiet sensation of beating in the skull of a deader.

After being cheated out of his gold by a well-planned explosion of her ship, Beldrin cursed his elven employer for eternity. Without gold to spend, he was forced to partake in some criminal activities. However, after a deal gone bad, Beldrin was left for dead on an un-named island. After three months of surviving with nothing but a trusty branch to hunt with, a merchant ship beached there in a terrible storm. Knowing a thing or two about construction, Beldrin helped the crew repair the damaged ship... with the fee of passage, of course. Soon, he was back in civilization. After doing a few weeks of honest labor, he managed to get in touch with some old contacts. After a month of tracking down his cheaters, he barged in, and demanded they return his gold and his rifle back. After the denial, Beldrin slew them in a bout of rage. Stealing away his precious rifle and a moderate sum of gold, he headed for Kalimdor to lie low. After a year, Beldrin was seen with various mercenary groups, fighting, kidnapping, rescuing, and doing everything he had done before. Beldrin now enjoys the simple things in life, such as bashing in some heads, talking to the ladies, and drinking the stout Dwarven ale.