Tarin

Information

Appearance

Usual Garments/Armor: He is most often in a thick gray sweater. He has a pair of leather boots on, with nondescript brown pants and a matching belt. He has a pouch on his belt with his pipe and pipeweed within. For weapons, he has an axe and a mace often on him. The mace is a stormhammer, crafted of steel with a wooden handle and gifted to him by his Wildhammer side. The axe is enchanted and was carved from a rock, then given a wooden handle. For enchantments, it's mainly so the rock acts like a piece of metal. On rare occasions, he will tout a green tower shield.

For armor, he has plain plate armor overlaid with leather which in turn has metal shingles upon it. The shoulderpads of this armor curve up to cover his head, with spikes on the crest to stop a taller race from picking him up by the shoulders. Lastly, it has a domed metal helmet overlaid with leather. This covers his head and the back of his neck. The armor was crafted by some of the better forges within Ironforge, and holds Tarin back little in terms physical movement. The weight does slow him down some but other than that, it is like wearing a second skin. This is merely one of his armor sets, and the one he uses when desiring agility.

When he desires strength over speed, he adorns a set of primarily ornamental armor. This armor has been passed down through the ages, and weighs upon even the strongest of Dwarves, causing extreme discomfort if worn for too long. It also slows them down a good deal. However, this is paid for in pure strength -- no Thane has ever died with it on, and the scars upon the armor shows the duress it's been subjected to through the ages.

The armor itself is impossible to equip alone. First, there is a layer of plate. This layer of plate is designed to favor agility over strength, and is fairly thin, being unable to block a good stab. After this, he puts on a secondary layer, which covers his upper chest, abdomen and outer thighs. This plate is much stronger than the lower layer, and is incredibly hard to penetrate. Then, there are two shoulderpads, both with the likeness of a ram carved into it. Lastly, he has his helmet, which has two horns curling out of the top.

Other: His chest has a decent amount of tattoos, all of Wildhammer origin. He has glasses to aid him with his failing eyesight. He also has a travel ram named Stormhorn. The ram can either be used when traveling or when fighting.

Personality

Tarin is a jolly old man. He's kind to people unless given an opposing reason not to, and secretly an advocate of neutrality. However, this does not mean that he looks upon the Horde favorably; he has always merely preferred peace over war. In terms of race, he kind of views everyone that's not a Human, Gnome or Dwarf as an oddity. He also believes that Dwarves have a higher purpose than other races, this purpose being the protection of Azeroth, whereas other races are merely on Azeroth.

He is very compassionate and caring about his clan, and all the deaths that have come of his hand still weigh heavily on his mind. These failures of his have turned him from one who once was a care-free man to one who is constantly frightened of how he could be wrong. This air of over-caution often keeps Tarin from trying out new things, and keeps Tarin often cooped up in his Manor. It also lends him an extreme preference towards talking over fighting.

Tarin's always had a mind for ways to distract himself, resulting in what some may call a wasteful attitude towards life. He often spends time traveling the world under the alias of 'Narit Fatcrest', desiring to see how other members of the Alliance function about their normal lives. He also often likes to hunt, keeping a large amount of woodlands untouched so as to satisfy this hobby. He's also quite the fan of feasts, be it his own or others. While Tarin may be a Thane, in truth he desires no more than to eternally drink, eat and hunt.

History

Tarin was born the eldest son of his father, Farin. He was born in his family's manor, within the hills of Dun Morogh. For the first half of his childhood, he spent his time within the halls of the manor. Here, he learned a great deal of things. Many were Dwarf classics, such as how to mine, but others were more specific to his family, such as how to handle the carving of stone, and how to close a business deal. And when his first half of childhood was up, he was sent to the Wildhammer village of his clan.

Here, he learned much more rough and tumble things. Which was good, because when he grew up fully, he grew into a confident, strong young Dwarf. Of course, on his agenda for growing in Wildhammer lands were such bare essentials such as how to hunt, how to fight, and how to properly deal with wounds, as well as little tasks that may go in between. When he was deemed an adult by his father, he was offered a choice by the Elder of the Wildhammers. He could either return to Dun Morogh, or stay in the village and learn how to become a Gryphon Rider. He was not needed at home, so he chose the latter.

The training to become a Gryphon Rider was a challenge. Of course, Tarin knew how to ride a Gryphon, but being a Gryphon Rider was a much different beast. He was gifted his own Gryphon, which he named Lightwing. Through the years of training, he and Lightwing together forged a bond that can only be made between a Gryphon Rider and his Gryphon. Of course, he learned some other abilities, but the bond he forged is what he was fondest of. At the end of his adventure, he and a few others flew together to the nearest Gryphon Aviary to receive their Stormhammers. When he had it, he returned immediately home. Tarin's father was proud of Tarin, due to the young Dwarf setting a brilliant example of how to be a Broadhill. However, Tarin was falling behind on his Bronzebeard training. Combine this with his father's ailing health, and Tarin spent the next few years in Dun Morogh, preparing to take his father's spot. Now, taking old Farin's spot had more to it than just getting the axe. His father, as well as his father's father, had been Mountain Kings, and in order to properly be called Thane Broadhill, Farin needed to do the same.

While becoming a Gryphon Rider was something where Tarin was taught by others, the becoming of a Mountain King was only a solitary quest. Long ago, deep under the Broadhill Manor, a series of tunnels had been dug under the command of the second Thane of the Broadhill clan. Within a room in these tunnels, the Thane had imbued his spirit within a statue there, and would grant the powers that had made this first Thane so powerful to those who were to rule the house next. They had to prove themselves worthy to the spirit of the original Thane. However, all that would come after simply finding the room in the first place.

So, after being given a week's provisions and his father's blessing, he headed down into the tunnels below. His eyes slowly acclimatized to the complete and utter dark of the area. For roughly three days, he either wandered or slept. On his fourth day, he woke up and turned a corner. There it was, a shining room of marble, filled with light. The brightness blinded him, causing him to falter. After a few seconds, his eyes finally got used to the light. He noticed a small group of individuals inside. He stumbled forward, before noticing that the individuals were Dark Irons. The Dark Irons had been caught in the process of carting the statue of the original Thane into a tunnel.

Enraged, Tarin let out a roar. The Dark Irons turned to look at him, only for one of the trio to be greeted with a Stormhammer. The hammer returned to Tarin's hand as he slammed it into another Dark Iron's head, a satisfying crunch following the hit. The element of surprise was lost as quickly as it was gained, and the last Dark Iron turned to face Tarin, raising a shield and a sword. A savage battle raged back and forth over the hall between the two. It ended when Tarin yanked the Dark Iron's shield. The Dark Iron stumbled and dropped his defense, allowing for Tarin to overtake him and wrap both of his hands around the Dark Iron's throat. He tightened his hands, choking the life out of him.

The Dark Iron, after a bit of choking, dissolved away before Tarin's eyes. He looked around, bewildered to find that the corpses of the other two Dark Iron were also absent. Even the tunnel they'd come in from was absent. Tarin picked himself up the ground and grabbed his stormhammer, looking around. The statue of his predecessor hobbled off of the altar that it stood on, approaching Tarin. It rested a cold stone hand on Tarin's forehead, muttering a few short words, before returning and clambering upon the pedestal, freezing into the same position as it had previously. Nothing else happened, and silence filled the room. Tarin turned and opened the door that he'd left through, astonished to learn that it returned him to the manor. Farin explained Tarin's new powers to the younger Dwarf. The Avatar form, Tarin had been told, would later be awakened, but not right then. A few days later, the Thane died, and Tarin took his spot.

The death of a Thane has various different paths, depending on which clan the Thane led. Within the Broadhill Clan, was celebrated by the creation of a statue depicting the fallen Thane. The corpse, if retrievable, was placed within the statue. If not, then the statue was left with a hollow center in honor of the Thane. These statues were placed in the primary hall of the House. The Clan had a plaque then bolted, telling the basics -- who the Thane was, when he'd ruled, and that who led the house after he died. Tarin's first act as Thane was to circulate through the Hall and honor each statue. After this was finished, he officially became the Thane of the Broadhill clan.

Tarin spent a good deal of his time as Thane ferrying between the main two villages under him and Ironforge to fulfill his duties as a Thane, no matter the season or year. He would spend six months at either area, before returning to the other. His family's reputation didn't exactly grow during this time, instead losing some, if anything. Still, Tarin did not mind. It was a minor loss. The loss of revenue came primarily from those of the lower castes, who moved to other statue-makers. The higher-ups, those who had the real money, would always go to the Broadhill family. Still, as a precaution, this is the time when the Broadhill family branched out and began to export lumber and furs, although minimally. This removed the net losses and invoked small gains, enough to keep the house stabilized.

A good amount of time passed with Tarin's family in a kind of stasis. Beyond aging, nothing too exciting happened. Beyond the occasional skirmish against Dark Irons or Frost Trolls, little activity happened. It was during one of these routine skirmishes that Lightwing had a thrown spear penetrate his breastplate. Although Tarin got through with minimal damage, the rough landing only worsened the wound for Lightwing. The Gryphon died before any help could be found. After this, Tarin swore never to ride another Gryphon for offensive purposes. Travelling was fine, sure, but riding a Gryphon into combat would have been an insult to Lightwing.

During a visit to the Wildhammer village, Tarin took a Wildhammer for a wife as was expected of him as the Clan leader. His father had married a Bronzebeard, and as such, Tarin had to marry a Wildhammer. She was a nice woman, fair and understanding wife in the time following Lightwing's death. But, she was too proud of her being on the Wildhammer side of the Clan. Whenever there was a dispute between a Bronzebeard and a Wildhammer that Tarin had to resolve, she would always push for the Wildhammer, no matter the evidence. Their marriage was not an all together happy one, and when she was killed in childbirth for their third child, Tarin was secretly relieved.

When the Orcs invaded Loch Modan, Tarin was at the Wildhammer Villages in the highlands of the area. His first need was the evacuation of those who could not fight to his Manor, in the eastern hills of Dun Morogh. While the elderly and young fled to the manor, he had all those who could fight go help the main forces of Dwarves and Gnomes in Loch Modan. The forces were quickly pushed back by the Orcs, but Tarin's instructions had managed to save almost all of the Wildhammer, other than those who chose to go south and fight. Those who went south to fight survived, but in few numbers.

Thankfully, the Manor was high enough in the mountains to not be considered a threat by the Orcs. This allowed Tarin to keep the civilians here, while he and the other fighters snuck into Ironforge to participate in the defense. This was done through the use of several tunnels, although ones that took days to fully navigate. Tarin needed to be in Ironforge and lead his family in defense of the city from the Orcs. It was only when a Scout told Tarin that a small force of Orcs was heading towards the Manor that Tarin was granted to leave from the city to return to his manor. The Orcs, he would later guess, were looking for another route into Ironforge.

Tarin sent the Scout to tell the civilians within to board up the main entrance to the house. He took a handful of his soldiers and began rushing back to the Manor. What would take three days took one sleepless session of constant running. Luckily, the Dwarves arrived before the Orcs, and had the opportunity to rest. When they awoke, Tarin gathered his warriors to plan the defense. First, they needed to train what peasants would be willing to fight. Secondly, they needed to secure a hiding place for those not combat-worthy. Finally, they needed to move everything from the door so they could meet the Orcs in open combat. These preparations took an entire day.

It was at this moment that the unknown spark in Tarin was fed from an ember to a raging flame. Of all the races of Azeroth, the Dwarves were the one who would stubbornly hold onto Azeroth, and protect it with all they had. Perhaps the Dragons had also been a similar race of defenders, but their enslavement by the Orcs only told Tarin that the role was left to the Dwarves. And it was as Tarin stood across the hall, staring down these alien invaders, that this all became fully apparent to him. The two opposing forces stood across from eachother, daring the other side to make a move. It was not Tarin that made the first move, nor an Orc. In fact, it was a peasant Dwarvf, one of about 20 years, who held his pitchfork out ahead of him as he charged towards the score of Orcs.

At that point, both groups started charging. And with each step that Tarin took, he grew. He grew until he towered even over the Orcs. The two forces clashed, the sounds of metal, flesh and death ringing out through the hall. It was a short, but vicious battle. At the end, all of the Orcs were dead, with ten of the fifteen peasants dead, but only seven of the trained Warriors had fallen beside them. Unfortunately, one of the seven warriors was Tarin's eldest son. Tarin stayed in the manor until a snow storm passed and dumped on the manor, making the area inaccessible to all but the most heavily clothed of Humanoids. Then, he returned to Ironforge.

It was not long until the Orc forces were routed from the gates of the great city. Tarin would have chased them back to the maw of the Dark Portal itself, but he had to stay and help the civilians under his control rebuild. He returned the civilians to their now destroyed homes in higher Loch Modan, giving them the gold necessary to rebuild. He stayed about, helping them with negotiations and bringing any possible refugees to the burgeoning town. These refugees had a large hand raising the town's overall population, despite the losses of war. However, only a small percentage of them knew how to fight. So, he moved some guards in from his Manor to watch here. The guard's presence helped to make sure that the new refugees were not too unruly.

After everything was back to normal, he retired to the Manor. The War had brought a good deal of stress upon the Dwarf, and had dyed some of his straw-colored hair white. However, there was much business for the family, for new statues were needed for all of the newly christened war heroes. The calm was welcome, and it was then that he took the opportunity to finally mourn. He took all of the bodies of those that had died in defense of the manor and took the entire Clan of Broadhill to the Loch, where he set the corpses out on a pyre and pushed them out. There, he gave a small speech, and gave compensation to the family of those that had died. The Dwarves held a mighty celebration for the lives of all that had died.

When the party died down and all but his immediate family had returned to their homes, Tarin sent out the pyre for his own son and mourned. He, despite the best wishes of all around him, viewed the death as his own fault. This weighed heavily on the Dwarf as he returned to his Manor and began leading the Broadhill Clan into a semblance of normalcy. The family's business continued as usual for a good twenty years, through which the remainder of Tarin's hair grew to the bone-bleached whiteness that it is today. He negotiated with some Gnomes, adding machinery to his creation of statues. All was peaceful for his family.

The Broadhill Clan had no part in the fall of the North, nor the exodus of the Orcs to the new Western Lands, nor the Battle of Hyjal. It was the loss of Gnomeregan that was the only true thing that affected them in this time. The Manor, with it's relatively close vicinity to Gnomeregan, had to take in a decent amount of refugees from the fallen city. They redirected all who they could not take in to Ironforge, or Anvilmar. To the Gnomes that they could take in, the Broadhill Clan offered jobs and housing within the Manor. In the mean time, Tarin hired a few mercenaries from Ironforge to patrol the more forlorn tunnels in the house and keep an eye out for Troggs.

The family did not have any troubles with Troggs, and the Gnomes settled in well enough. The Wildhammer Village had been completely rebuilt, and had some new renovations atop of that to account for the number of refugees that they had taken in. However, some of the newer members of the Broadhill Clan were pushing for the Wildhammers gaining their independence from the Bronzebeard side. Since the death of Tarin's wife, the Wildhammer side had steadily drifted further and further away. This was nullified during the Second War, but after said war, the sentiments returned. In their mind, Tarin did not ride a Gryphon nor did he have a Wildhammer wife; he'd failed in his side of the bargain, and was not a fit leader. While the elder members knew of Tarin's sincerity as a leader, some of the younger doubted him, and wanted to form their own clan.

So, Tarin went to the Wildhammer village. He spent more time in the area, soothing the raised nerves. Eventually, through the years, he realized that the angst was not directed towards him; the younger of the Wildhammer had plenty of pent up energy that they did not have any way to properly release. The boys wanted a taste of war, and they had hoped that Tarin's response would be one of anger, not what it had been. So, Tarin took the village Elder and together, they began to think of ways to release this energy with minimal harm. A tournament did not do the job as well as had been hoped. This problem persisted, with Tarin keeping a constant eye on the younger people of the villages.

The solution to his problem did not come until the Dark Portal had been closed and the Lich King had declared war on all living that he had his opportunity. He had restrained getting the Clan involved in Shadowmoon Valley with many other Wildhammers, due to the unfamiliar terrain and the dangerous inhabitants. In the Storm Peaks of the north, only the latter would be a problem. So, Tarin, with the help of the Explorer's League, began to plan an expedition to the Storm Peaks in the north. For those who had been antagonizing him, he offered a place on the expedition. Of all that wanted to come, he had a grand total of roughly fifty Dwarven men and women, as well as six gnomes. For those that did not have the clothing thick enough to survive a Dun Morogh blizzard, Tarin bought it and gifted it.

Roughly a year after he initially began planning, and with his miniature army outfitted, Tarin led them all to Ironforge. In Ironforge, they went through a portal to the city of Dalaran. A total of roughly 100 beating hearts, be them Dwarven, Gnomish or Gryphon, filed into the city of Dalaran. They quickly rented a few more gryphons for, with each of the Gnomes riding upon another's Gryphon, due to their inexperience. A Magi of Dalaran asked Tarin if he could come along, and Tarin accepted. They traveled quickly, having been given the rough location of a set of Titan ruins by the Explorer's League. This information had come with a trade that Tarin would alert the Explorer's League to anything he found. The Clan would also acquiesce all findings, with a hefty finder's fee, to the Explorer's League.

They arrived mid-way through the summer, setting up camp at the base of these Titan ruins they were to look at. The Titan ruins themselves had been bored into the side of a mountain, and could only be accessed through riding a Gryphon. Tarin did not want to bring the entirety of the Clan into the Titan ruins, in case something bad would happen, and so he set about creating a temporary fortress in lieu of what would originally be a camp. Before that began, however, he needed to worry about supplies. Luckily, the Magi, in return for Tarin's kindness, offered to set up a constant portal to Dalaran for quick delivery of supplies.

With the help of a Frostborn, the group initially set out to hunt down Jormungar. They set a drum, beaten by mechanical hands, on the surface of the earth. The drums would call a Jormungar to the surface of the earth. Once it did, it would be pelted with Stormhammers from aloft Gryphon Riders until it died. At that point, it would be pulled back to camp. The skin was used to create fortifications, primarily against the cold, but the worm's harsh hide was a challenge to get through, forcing all who could not enter through the air to enter through a sole gate, which was constantly guarded by Dwarves. They then used the meat for food and the fat as a padding for the floor. The fat that was not used to hide the Dwarves walking on the earth was saved. It would later be used to replace the rotten fat. Six Jormungar were killed, which resulted in the fortress's walls being two skins thick at the base, with one extra skin erected atop these two, to make sure that projectiles could not easily be lofted over.

The building of the fort took most of Summer and Autumn. After the first snow-storm, the Clan enjoyed a feast, primarily due to the fact that their fort had held up, but also to send off their Frostborn and Kirin Tor friends. The former of which needed to return to Frosthold for the winter and the latter of which having gathered all he needed. With enough supplies to last a year within the fortress, Tarin was satisfied. During the fall, they'd set up a series of climbing ropes that went from the base camp to the Titan Ruins. However, Tarin had miscalculated how powerful the Storm Peak storms would be. During the first storm, even with a plethora of fires, the Gryphons had constantly shivered. Worried for their health Tarin ordered a small group of Dwarves, at the break of the next storm to take the Gryphons and personally return them to the village before heading back to Dalaran and waiting. When the sun next showed up, they headed off. For the next week, it was sunny, long enough for Tarin to make sure they'd left the Storm Peaks safely.

Tarin's initial plan was to merely have the Dwarves bunk down for the winter and wait until Spring came to actually access the ruins. However, as the winter progressed and the younger Dwarves became more struck with cabin fever, Tarin was forced to accelerate his plans. Three months after winter began, Tarin led the first expedition up into the Titan ruins. With him, he took a dozen Dwarves and a trio of Gnomes. The Titan ruins, for the first few feet, were predictably covered in snow. Beyond that was an empty circle, the area behind curiously void of snow. With Tarin at the lead, the group of sixteen clambered up and through the door. The first day of expedition led nothing useful, but a day of climbing around in heavy gear tired out all of the people in the group. Tarin could barely keep his eyes up through dinner, and was grateful for sleep.

The next day, Tarin suited up again, and led another expedition in with larger numbers to the first. While he lagged behind on this one, he managed to lead them down a new path nonetheless. As had been expected, both expeditions had shown not a thing other than seemingly unending stone and metal corridors. He returned home, ate a bit, and immediately went to sleep. The third day, he dreaded it before he'd even got up. He brought one of the people who he fully trusted, one who he'd brought along as a back-up in case he were to die, so the man could lead safely. The man was happy to lead the expeditions in Tarin's stead, and disappeared with roughly twenty Dwarves and Gnomes combined for the day.

They did not return the next day. However, Tarin was fully optimistic about the secondary leader's capabilities. The others, however, were more anxious. The day went by fairly like it usually did, with nothing exciting happening. However, when another day passed by, Tarin joined with the others in their worry. He picked roughly a dozen Dwarves to accompany him up, not wanting to abandon the mini-fortress, but wanting to be able to at least get word out if he was ambushed by whatever had taken out the other Dwarves. So, after gearing up and taking a good amount of weaponry, the Dwarves headed up into the ruins. There was a trail of snow left by the other Dwarves that led to rather easy tracking.

The group had found a massive hall, complete with constellation-statues upon the edges. The constellations were interesting. However, what was even more interesting was the heap of burning Dwarven corpses in the center of the hall. Atop the pile, sitting on a throne of the corpses of his comrade, was the man Tarin had chosen to the lead the group. His empty eye sockets stared at the group. Tarin was the first to move, slowly approaching it. He had nearly gotten to the pyre, before there steps were heard running from behind the group. The others who had come with Tarin stopped the runners as Tarin mourned silently.

A bit of time later, no more than five minutes, and one of the Dwarves tenderly touched Tarin's shoulder. He explained to Tarin that while his mourning was important, a force of Black Stone Dwarves, what the Frostborn had told the group were Iron Dwarves, was fast approaching. They'd swept into the camp once less than 30 men were within and slaughtered those that fought. Half of those that were within managed to escape, drawing up the ropes behind them. While there was no evidence to support it, Tarin knew that they were the ones that had killed the Dwarves before him. He wanted to stand and fight, but as he looked behind, he saw that he had no more than half of his Dwarves and Gnomes with him. The hall was open, and no advantage could be found. They needed to find a better place.

So, he began to lead the remaining Dwarves in a wild goose chase, fleeing from the Iron Dwarves in the confusing halls of the Titan ruins. Eventually, they found another room and closed the doors, bolstering it shut with whatever loose objects they could find. They stacked the items high, though, so that moving the door outwards would collapse the entire structures. The Irons tried to open it, only to quickly shut it once more once a few boxes threatened to fall on them. The Iron Dwarves then began to bash against the door, trying to cause the regular Dwarves' structure to fall back on them.

Tarin's attention was drawn to a crystal ball in the center, held up on enruned black metal similar to that on those outside. He slowly approached the ball, placing a hand on it. He was knocked out before he hit the ground. He awoke amidst a battle between his Dwarves and the Iron Dwarves. As he pushed himself up, an Iron Dwarf rushed at him. Tarin leaned forward and shout out, bracing his legs apart and holding his mace in a hand. He flung the mace forward, the Stormhammer crackling with energy. It struck the Iron Dwarf and he fell forward as he ran, hitting the ground before Tarin. Instead, he joined the fray. Even with Tarin fighting, he knew that they were losing the fight. As he swung, he begged the flame of the Titans inside him to fan once more. And it did so.

Within a matter of seconds, he had grown to a colossal height, for a Dwarf. He began to tramp around the battle field, almost all of the Iron Dwarves focusing on him as he rampaged about. The Dwarves, luckily, were smart enough to take the time to regroup. As Tarin picked up an Iron Dwarf and threw him into the other, the Stormforged decided it was time to retreat. They did so. Tarin chased after them for a bit, hollering, until they were gone. At that point, he returned. Only two of the Gnomes and six Dwarves were still alive, all of which nursing wounds. Tarin knew that to not return to Dalaran would be suicide.

One of the Gnomes was a Mage. However, he announced, he did not have the powder necessary for a portal. It was back at camp, as well as all the food and supplies. The Dwarves and Gnomes had the objects on their backs and nothing more. Tarin considered returning to the camp, unknowing if the Iron Dwarves were still there or not. In the end, he decided a battle was better than starving. After a few hours of rest, the ragged remainders set out to find their way back to camp. Finding their way back was fairly easy -- after all, the expedition had left their own trail of snow as they ran. They made their way out to the lip of the ruins, letting the ropes down.

The camp had a small group of Iron Dwarves, roughly twenty. Tarin knew not to fight. Stealing their way through the camp, they managed to make it to the Gnome tent with the silent death of only one Iron Dwarf. They moved into the tent and sealed the door for safety, the Gnome hastily summoning a portal to Dalaran. With the tent behind them, the remainders of the once 60 man left the fort they'd created behind. The Dwarves they'd previously left in Dalaran were quick to be found, and the journey to Ironforge was even quicker. Everyone else settled down. Tarin was granted a merciful week of rest before he had to go pay his respects to the people in the Wildhammer Village. The Village was the area from which most of the expedition came.

The Expedition was an absolute failure. The Wildhammer village had taken a huge loss of fighting age men, the Clan had lost almost half of the contents of it's treasury, and gained almost nothing in return. As well as this, one of the few survivors had off-handedly embellished the extent of Tarin's powers. A rumor started that Tarin had merely done this expedition in order to gain people. Few saw Tarin's side of the story, and dislike of Tarin only increased after the expedition, the opposite of the intended effect.

The Cataclysm came, and with it even more troubles for the Broadhill Clan. Of course, the King died and the Dark Irons took over Ironforge and ruled the area with an iron fist. Luckily, neither the Manor nor the Village were affected too much, neither being within the city itself. However, this made things even worse; Tarin could only watch the gates and hope that they would open once more. Luckily, they did. The triumvirate council of the three clans was established, and Tarin was given a lucky break.

The Broadhill clan had long been known for it's statues. The Dark Iron clan had long been known for it's golems... as well as a few other things. However, for the sake of brevity, their golems. So, Tarin had an idea. He hired one of the stealthier people that he knew of to sneak into a Dark Iron family's home, one that was well-known for their ability to craft golems, and steal away anything related to such. Luckily, the Dwarf found some things. Even further, the papers that they found were a massive stack on everything about golems, found in a safe. Lastly, luckiest of all, the Rogue was not caught and the papers were not even known to be missing.

Tarin waited a month, just for safety, and began to craft his own golems. This was a huge boon to the family; few within Azeroth wanted to deal with the Dark Iron clan, and were happy to buy from the Broadhill Clan over the Dark Irons. While the Dark Irons did have some problems with the Broadhill Clan using their secrets, the Broadhill Clan was under the shield of both the Wildhammers and the Bronzebeard, and no official action was ever taken. For Tarin, this was just what he needed. Golems, in their own, were popular, but Golems crafted in the owner's own image? Incredibly so. The Broadhill clan's coffers began to swell with gold. While his Golems were not as powerful or as sturdy as the Dark Irons, they were made much faster than a Dark Irons.

However, despite this victory, there were problems all throughout in the Wildhammer Village. It was located in what now is called the Twilight Highlands, and dangers came from everywhere. Tarin, instead of the clan being in imminent danger, viewed all this as a perfect opportunity to regain the Wildhammer sides trust in him. So, he began to move forces in; with the burgeoning security of Gnomeregan underneath, there were few threats for the Manor high in the mountains. So, Tarin began to send Golems to the area to protect the land, allowing the Wildhammers to focus on the air threats. Furthermore, he bought out some Wildhammer mercenaries to reinforce the village. This is but a temporary fix, but Tarin is looking for other solutions.

Skills and Abilities

Tarin holds skill with dual wielding both the axe and the stormhammer, fully being able to use the capabilities of the latter.

His Avatar form is essentially what makes him a Mountain King. This form causes his body extreme physical and mental duress. After it's effects, it's incredibly hard for him to stay awake or form a coherent sentence. However, when this form is in use, he grows to a height much larger than something a Dwarf could ever naturally grow. As well as this, his skin gets a rough, rocky consistency to some-what replace his armor.

As well as this, he has two variations of the common throwing-a-Stormhammer trick. While he can throw his Stormhammer, he can also activate the powers within it and then use that to smash an opponent. If there is not an opponent, he can smash it into the ground, causing lightning to spark out in all directions.

Tarin

Information

Contents

Appearance

Personality

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