Reynolds

Information

Player: ghaskan

Character Full Name: Vincent Reynolds

Character In-Game Name: Reynolds

Nickname(s): ‘Dwarf’, Vin

Association(s): The Alliance

Race: Worgen

Class: Warrior

Skills and Abilities: Stock fury warrior, with knowledge about fishing and sailing thanks to his years spent as a fisherman in Southshore.

Age: 49

Sex: Male

Hair: Black

Eyes: Blue

Scale/Height: 0.88 / 1,61 m (Human); 1,82 m (Worgen)

Weight: 74 kg (Human); 97 kg (Worgen)

Appearance

Usual Garments/Armor: He is never seen without a Lordaeron tabard that has been magically enchanted to better withstand damage and dirtiness.

Other: Missing part of his right ear, and he has tattoos on his arms.

Personality

Reynolds is a man who is trying to cling to his humanity. After accepting the Worgen curse as a weapon to fight the Forsaken, the beast within him has been taking charge of his senses more often than what would be ideal. Although he prefers to stay in his human form outside of combat, strong emotions such as rage can make him shift in the blink of an eye.

Unfortunately, Reynolds has a short fuse that does not exactly help with the situation. He is also blunt and impulsive, traits that, coupled with his sailor mouth that spews forth swears quite often, make it hard for him to gain many friends. Nevertheless, Reynolds is a simple and good man to those he takes a liking to, and very dedicated in combat, even if the Worgen curse leads to him losing his senses, akin to the bloodlust of the Orcs he despises so much. It is also important to note that he hates the Forsaken and undead in general for robbing him of what was most precious to him. While he tries to not kill them if the situation truly demands it, when given the opportunity he will not back down, since he sees all undead as a plague that needs to be dealt with.

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

History

Vincent was born to a family of fisherman with a long history in Southshore. They were all known for being very short but bulky fellows, a trait that won them the nickname of ‘Dwarves’ among their peers. Vincent was no exception to the rule, and, while he was not fond of the name, he accepted it, seeing how nicknames for different families were a common occurrence. He spent most of his childhood with his mother, who sold the fish his father caught whilst spending most of his time on the sea. When he was not helping his mother, young Vincent was doing the things all boys loved to do: picking up fights, playing pranks, trying to impress girls, making a collection, in his case one of seashells, among other things.

When he became twelve, his father deemed him to be old enough to start learning the craft of fisherman, one that would likely be his living for the rest of his days. Knowing no better, Vincent accepted his destiny. He had once dreamt of being a knight along with the rest of the boys, but those dreams were long gone, buried away along with their childhoods. The days in the sea were not easy at all, and they were highly dependent of the sea’s mood. If they were lucky, all they had to face was the long wait for the nets to catch a decent amount of fish; if not, it became a battle to not be swept away from the boat by the waves, and they still had to find a way to catch something, or else the Reynolds would have no way to feed themselves.

It was a harsh job, but Vincent got used to it. They were poor, but made enough to eat and still put some money aside. Part of that money ended up being used to fund the marriage of Vincent‘s sister, who had engaged with a young businessman from Capital City. Vincent found love as well, marrying a young woman that had caught his fancy when he was still a teenager. Her name was Theresa, and she stayed with the Reynolds, helping her mother-in-law sell the men’s catches.

Their humble but quiet lifestyle was not to last forever, however. The echoes of the war of Stormwind reached their shores, and the town transformed, becoming a busy seaport. The fishermen suffered with this change, with their use of the port being taxed and the waters becoming busier. It became harder to make money, but the Reynolds persevered, rooted as they were to their ways.

Sadly, that was not the last of the changes. The savage Horde, composed of Orcs, Trolls and Ogres, marched on their lands. The Reynolds watched as their home was destroyed, forced to evacuated to Capital City. They had managed to escape with little else than the clothes they wore and their savings. Vincent enlisted as a recruit in the Lordaeron military, seeking to reclaim Southshore, while the rest of the family, including his then pregnant wife, stayed with his sister and her husband. The campaign was harsh for a fisherman. While he had developed strength, he was a stranger to the concept of “kill or be killed”, and only a combination of luck and bold tactics made it so that he earned no more than a few scars on his body. He also lost part of his right ear, but not in battle. As Vincent slept for the first time in a couple of days in a tent, he felt a stinging pain on said ear, and smelled the familiar scent of blood. When he turned to look, he found out that a rat had chewed out a good part of his ear. Disgusted, Vincent killed the creature, and from that day on, he made sure no rat, mouse or otherwise caused him problems by setting appropriated traps before going to sleep.

With Southshore successfully reclaimed, the Reynolds were ready to move back to their town. However, Vincent’s parents decided to stay in Capital City, helping their daughter and son-in-law. They were feeling old, they said, and they lacked the zeal to rebuild their fishing business from the ashes. Vincent, Theresa and their offspring, a beautiful girl who they called Margaret, journeyed back to Southshore. It was not easy at first, but Vincent’s share of the savings and the money he made In the military proved to be enough to buy a small house in the town, and he managed to find a spot in a fishing enterprise ran by an old man who claimed to have been a noble from Stormwind that sensed great potential in that line of business.

For many years, their life sailed smoothly. Vincent and Theresa had a second child, a boy that they named Martin and who often boasted about how he was going to be the greatest knight Lordaeron had ever seen, to his father’s amusement. Margaret was growing to become a beautiful young woman, but boys were kept at bay due to knowing that her father, a war veteran to boot, had no time for their empty promises, although once in a while one or another still tried their luck.

Unfortunately, the Undead Scourge struck, ravaging lives and villages, left and right. A deep sorrow invaded Vincent when he heard that even Capital City fell to the might of the Scourge… which meant that his parents, his beloved sister, and his brother-in-law, who was a good friend of his, were all dead, or, worse, raised as one of the ghouls that bolstered the Scourge’s frontlines. Vincent decided to leave his fisherman days behind once more, joining the defense of Hilsbrad Foothills. They were relatively successful, and the Scourge did not make it through their lands. Vincent made a vow to protect Southshore, so that his wife and children could live in one of the last places of Lordaeron untouched by the plague, and thus definitively joined the military as a guard.

For some more years, Southshore remained peaceful. There were occasional feuds with the Forsaken, a subset of undead that had been freed from the Lich King’s control, which was no less evil in Vincent’s eyes, but what mattered was that the Reynolds family was safe. That is, until the earth’s very entrails turned over, shaking the land. With the coming of the Cataclysm, the Forsaken made their move, attacking Southshore with their blight. Very few survived the powerful chemical weapon; Vincent happened to be one of them, for he had been on a patrol during the attack. Dumbstruck, he was forced to leave to Fenris Keep, forbidden to return to the inhabitable piece of land. Vincent tried to fight that back, to save his woman and children, but a man with who he occasionally shared a drink in the town’s tavern shattered his illusion, telling him that they had been found dead, left to rot as there had been no time to give the dead a proper burial. The fire inside the last of the Reynolds quenched, and a brooding Vincent made his way to Fenris Keep.

Alienated, Vincent spent some time with the survivors in the Keep, resting and mourning. One day, an offer was made to these survivors: they would be able to drink from the blood of a creature called “Worgen” along with a cure that would awaken the beast within them and allow them to shift to a ferocious form at will… more or less. The greatest thing about this ‘curse’, they said, was that it would make them stronger than they could ever hope to be, and, best yet, they would become immune to the undead curse, that is to say, they could not be raised as one of the Forsaken. They would be the ultimate weapon against the Forsaken, and possibly the key in Humanity’s last stand in the Northern Eastern Kingdoms. Vincent mulled on the matter for a few days. He had lost his beloved home and his family… there was little else going on for him anymore. So be it. He was already cursed with a lack of will to live, so another curse under his belt was nothing. Besides, if he were to be able to fight against the Undead and the Horde, to hopefully give future generations a better life, he would accept the Worgen curse gladly. At the very least, it would give him purpose.

Vincent Reynolds drank from the blood. The transformation was great: rage pulsed in his blood; his nostrils smelled with overwhelming precision; his ears had begun to detect new, once unknown noises. While the cure calmed his senses, it still took him a while to discipline the beast that was inside of him, and even then, he never managed to fully control it. No matter. He would slay the undead until the last had been forced back to death.

Vincent had one certainty: that he would be fighting the Forsaken and their allies until he drew his last breath.