Stanimir

Information

Player: Ural

Character Full Name: Stanimir Irongut

Character In-Game Name: Stanimir

Nickname(s): Stan, Staniboy, Irongut

Association(s): None

Race: Human

Class: Runemaster (Warrior)

Age: 23

Sex: Male

Hair: Dark brown, kept shaven.

Eyes: Hazel

Weight: 280 lbs.

Height: 6'6"

Alignment: Chaotic Good

Appearance

Undyed wool pants and seasonal footwear.

Other: A choker of painted wooden beads, a small coin pouch and a wooden peg that holds a piece of charcoal for writing.

Personality

Stanimir believes that no matter what, he should do the right thing. This sometimes puts him at odds with the local law. He travels the world seeking a greater understanding of the mystical ley-lines that empower him. Stan pays no mind to the current conflicts between the Alliance and Horde. To him, being wrapped up in all that would distract him from his goals. This makes him seem naive at times. Stanimir goes out of his way to be a genuine friend and a good guy, trying to see the best in strangers. Stan often comes off as prying and doesn't respect implied personal space. This can highly irritate sensitive people. He is willing to fight alongside his friends in a battle if that is what is required. When he gets excited or after a few drinks his voice can fill up a room. He speaks with a slight dwarven accent, occasionally missing proper enunciation.

History

Stanimir's mother, Irene, was one among a band of refugees fleeing from the ruins of Stormwind. The group was led by a dwarven emissary named Helge; sent to offer sanctuary in the dwarven stronghold of Ironforge during the Second War. She had many letters from common dwarven folk who offered open homes in exchange for domestic workers. The small group made it through the Burning Steppes and into the Badlands. They had used up many of their rations and still had to make it to Loch Modan before they would be safe. After a long and hot day they set up camp for the night. The sun set that day and it cooled down quite a bit for the evening. A woman rushed into Helge's tent; Irene had gone into labor. Helge gathered some supplies and rushed to Irene's side. This wasn't the first time Helge would be a midwife. The dwarven lass spent the majority of the night helping Irene give birth to a baby boy. She named him Stanimir, after the dwarf who they owed their new life to. From that moment on the trio were inseparable. The next day came quickly for the exhausted mother, but they crossed into the safety of Loch Modan.

The next few years went by peaceful hidden deep within the lower rings of Ironforge. They stayed in a dwarven home owned by an older dwarf widower named Thurimir Irongut. It was good situation for the both of them, the humans had a place to stay and Thurimir didn't have to lift a finger around the house, unless it had a mug attached to it. Stanimir did everything just as a dwarf would. He ate like a dwarf, worked like a dwarf, played like a dwarf and even aspired to be like a dwarf. Many nights he would rub his chin hoping for an awesome beard and muscles like a mountain. He grew up more than wide compared to the dwarves of course, there was no hiding he was a human. Stanimir was about fifteen when he was looking for his first paying job. His mother was working as a housemaid, but he was looking for a little more action than that. He was on the cusp of manhood and Stan had lots of hormones to work out. Occasionally the dwarves of the lower rings would feel frisky and regularly start up boxing matches for money, fame, women and of course booze. Just the thing Stan needed to get his frustrations out on. The dwarves went easy on the kid at first, he was no match for the stout warriors. It did however get his face around town and he soon found himself with various odd jobs to help out with. Most of the time it was heaving lifting, filling in for an absent blacksmith, or helping with the ram stalls. These jobs kept him busy as many dwarves headed off to fight in the Third War. He continued to participate in the dwarven boxing matches. Stanimir loved the chance to prove himself more than a human errand-boy. He began training for it non-stop, using every opportunity to lift something higher, run it faster or forge one more iron plate.

None of the other dwarves took the evening matches that seriously. It was merely a way to unwind after a long work day. Not for Stanimir though; it was the highlight of his life among the dwarves. Within a couple of years and in the height of his maturity Stan managed to put the beat down on most of the dwarves. He had reached a towering height compared to the dwarves and even to his mother. His body readily accepted the high protein diet of the dwarves and there was little excess fat on his body due to his work and training ethic. Stanimir had a few chest hairs and a small goatee, but he was nowhere as hairy as a dwarf. There was one dwarf he couldn't beat, no matter how hard he tried. It was none other than Thurimir Irongut. The elder dwarf had a light grey skin tone with pale red runic patterns across his torso, arms and hands. His head shone in the light like a freshly polished steel plate. Thurimir's braided beard came down to his round belly. They squared off in the ring and stared each other down. Stanimir made the first move, a quick jab at the dwarf's gut. Thurimir stood firm and a flash of red arcane lit up a rune on his shoulder. Stan yelped as he pulled his hand back; it felt like he punched a stone wall. Stan went for a jump kick but the dwarf had already been in a position to grab his leg. Thurimir grinned widely as he locked onto Stan's leg. He began walking away from Stan making him hop several times to keep his balance. Stanimir hopped extra close to Thurimir and flipped back, trying to kick him in the chin. Thurimir only laughed as he held onto the leg, leaving Stanimir on his back from the failed attempt. Thurimir spun Stan around a couple times before launching him into a crate outside of the ring. "Ye cannae beat like ye are boy!" taunted Thurimir as Stan looked up in disbelief. The dwarven runemaster helped Stanimir up and invited him to go on a walk with him.

They approached a lower section of the Mystic Quarter. It was an abandoned storage area with a few busted crates and barrels littering the area. Thurimir sat the boy down in the middle of a clearing. He pulled up a crate and sat on it. "Tha' whole 'lliance is goin' ta war ag'in an' I'm too old ta fight an' yer too wet 'hind tha ears." The thick dwarven accent echoed through the eerily quiet room as the dwarf described the current Third War. He continued his monologue to explain his motivations for taking in a foreign family. "It be aboot mah time ta' go an'I should pass on what I know. Maggie ne'er blest me wit a child so it be up'ta you ta take on me family name n' trade. Ye grown in'ta a fine lad, any'a dwarf be proud ta call ye his own. Irene is a good lass an' she been takin' care o' me all them years..." Stanimir began to doze off like a typical teenager as the dwarf rambled about life in general.

A few minutes later Stan snapped out of his woolgathering as the dwarf finished his speech, "...and tha's wot et takes ta be a Runemaster. Thin' ye can handle et Staniboy?" Stanimir stated flatly, "Only if you promise not to call me that again." A wide grin spread on Thurimir's face before breaking up into a hearty laugh that echoed through the empty space. They both sat across from each other in the center of the empty space. Thurimir pulled out a piece of thick parchment and a stick of coal and placed it on the floor between them. Thurimir explained to his student the basics of the power of runes. He told him that in this very room far beneath the Mystic Ward was a certain pattern. With much meditation the pattern would engrave itself into the boy's mind. When he was sure of the pattern, he would draw it onto the parchment. Stan slowly nodded and closed his eyes. They both sat there for hours meditating in complete silence. Stan opened his eyes and picked up the coal stick. With a heavy sigh of concentration he began to draw. He stopped in certain places and closed his eyes, trying to remember the exact details. Thurimir was the very interpretation of a mountain as he continued to meditate while his student was working. Stanimir placed the charcoal down next to the paper carefully and looked up at the dwarf in anticipation. "Turn et ova'." Stanimir hung his head and fumbled with a corner and slowly turned the page over, he must try again. However, on the other side of the parchment was the exact same pattern, only worn from time. "Good job Stan. Tha' is tha first rune I learned, an' so ye have too." He curled his right arm and the same pattern enruned on his bicep. The pair headed back home to celebrate. Over a couple dwarven stout Thurimir explained just how different rune magic is from arcane magic. He explained the source of this magic, and how it was connected to the Third War. Stanimir asked about the various runes on the dwarf, his history with them and what different kinds there were. Stan was really interested and they talked late into the night.

They woke up the next morning to a breakfast feast cooked by Irene and Helge. They wanted to do something special for the men during Stanimir's first day training as a Runemaster. The four of them enjoyed their time together and Irene had to stifle back a tear now and then talking about when their first days in Ironforge. Later in the afternoon Thurimir grabbed an old wooden box, a burlap sack and beckoned Stanimir to follow him to the Great Forge. They sat down in front of a small forge and the dwarf put in a soaked wooden rod with a small metal tip. He offered Stanimir a bottle of Icebite Whiskey and told him it would be quite painful. Thurimir opened up his small wooden box containing a deep red ink. He took the wooden peg out of the fire and coated the metal tip with the ink. Stanimir could only shut his eyes as the dwarf branded his knuckles. The ink seared his flesh as the dwarf worked the runic patterns onto his fists, "This'ns tha first o' many ye will find, and tha first ye will seek ta unlock et's true potential..." Thurimir chuckled as he refilled the metal with more ink. Stanimir took a drink of the whiskey and shut his eyes, it was cold, bitter and lacked any smoothness of a real whiskey. "Gah! This isn't whiskey!" exclaimed Stan. "Ye jest sit thar and lemme mark ya." Thurimir scooted closer to the human and began to paint a large rune pattern on his chest. "What does it do?" Stan asked as Thurimir concentrated just below him. "Ye know when ye slugged meh an' ye hurt ya fist? Tha runes give ye resilience against all but tha' toughest blades." The dwarf finished the pattern and placed the peg back into the fire for a moment.

Thurimir withdrew the peg again and loaded it with ink again. This time he moved to Stanimir's right arm. He began to enrune his arm with the pattern that he himself first learned. "Foun' this'n right 'ere in tha Great Forge. Ye can feel it can't yeh?" Stanimir could only feel the burning sensation from his arm. He took another drink of the bitter Icebite Whiskey and shook his head. As Thurimir finished the pattern, Stan began to notice the energy of the place in the same runic pattern, only much larger. "I'mma train yeh ta clear yer head so yeh can... Tha' whiskey help ya s'long as yeh dun git smashed from et. Many o' human drowned himself in'a bottle... But ey know yer bettah than tha'." He chuckled as he marveled at his handiwork. "Tha rune let ya focus more energy inta yer fists for a big slam when yeh need tha extra oomf." The dwarven runemaster moved to Stanimir's left arm and prepared the wooden peg again. Stan closed his eyes and concentrated on each mark that the dwarf made during this runic pattern. "This'n ey promised meh master ta pass doon should ey e'er git tha' chance ta teach." It was a small, roundish pattern centered on his left bicep. "Press a rock onta this rune while ye channel et an' et'll pass onta tha stone. Chuck et far an' lightnin' will strike at tha' spot." Thurimir finished the details and chucked the peg into the water bucket. "How do ye feel?" he asked. Stanimir looked over his new body. The dark red runes seemed like they were a part of his skin, instead of sitting on top. At the same time, the runes seemed to pop from his naturally dark skin. Stan looked up and slowly nodded. "Good 'cause gittin' 'em off ain't pretteh!" They both laughed and headed back to home.

For the next five years Stanimir trained under the close guidance of his master. He ate well, worked hard and absorbed all he could from Thurimir. By this time Thurimir had aged quite a bit. Sparring matches turned into quiet mediation and once rigorous exercises were toned down to walks down to the shops and back. One day while training Stanimir received a summons from the local court. Confused the man pushed open the door to the courtroom. There of course was a judge, Thurimir, Irene and Helge. The room was also filled with his dwarven buddies, his many employers and a few of the sparring folks. He approached the judge as he was addressed in fine common, "Welcome Stan. Thurimir put together a little something for you and your mother." He pushed a parchment in front of the man. It read, Certificate of Adoption: This is to certify that STANIMIR has been formally adopted into the Irongut clan by Elder Thurimir Irongut and is entitled to all the rights and privileges there to as one of his clansmen. From this day forward he shall be known as STANIMIR IRONGUT. Signed, senior chief justice TRAGG STOUTHAMMER, clan representative THURIMIR IRONGUT, and recipient... "We just need your signature to make it offical son." said the judge. Stanimir signed the dwarven record and the crowd burst into celebration. After several hugs and tears from his mother he approached Thurimir. "Ye a fine lad an'any a dwarf would be proud ta call ye kin. Tha only thin' left o'tha Irongut clan is mah house. When ey pass et's rightfully yers and yer mums. I cannae thank ye enough fer tha' company ye two blest me wit all these years. I wish mi Maggie could see ta'day." The parade of Stanimir's friends and family headed to the tavern for a night of celebration.

Currently Stanimir travels in search of additional runes and to explore the world. There is a lot he hasn't seen or experienced. His master sent him off with his choker of meditation beads and his blessing. Irene sent him off hoping he would have a better life than she did, and with a pair of hand-stitched woolen pants. He carries nothing save for a small coin pouch and a familiar wooden peg.