Vangriff
Information
Contents
Player: MrBubbles
Character Full Name: Vangriff Ironfeld
Character In-Game Name: Vangriff
Nickname(s): Van, Griff
Association(s): Sons of Lothar, the Grand Alliance
Race: Human
Class: Warrior
Age: 47
Sex: Male
Hair: Faded, but not quite gray yet. Accompanied by a scraggly beard.
Eyes: Blue
Weight: 220 Lb
Height: 6'2"
Other: Vangriff has a deep affection for weapons of any type; he's always crafting new blades and is armed more or less to the teeth at all times.
Alignment: Neutral Good
Appearance
Vangriff is generally found with various pieces of armor crafted himself. Sometimes he'll don something more comfortable, but he finds the straps on the armor useful for holding various weapons. On rare occasions, he'll adorn himself with the old but well-polished armor he wore during his days in Draenor.
Personality
Vangriff is and always has been a rather simple man. He has no use for deep emotions or contemplation and would rather deal with something feasible - something he can swing sword at. He'd go toe-to-toe with a raiding party of orcs any day, rather than deal with a woman's whimsical emotions. He has a bit of a weakness for a nice, tall glass of dwarven spirits - His fondness of drinks is a close second to his craft and his weapons. Although, to him, there's a fine line between a drunkard and someone who happens to be fond of a good drink.
Vangriff has always had a good sense of humor. Regularly making jokes, much of what he says has at least some degree of levity to it. His humor has a habit of coming off the wrong way, though, particularly when he attempts to make jokes by insulting people. More often than not it just makes him look like an ass, making a racist comment while wearing a shit-eatin' grin. He has enough common sense when to figure out when to shut his trap and take things seriously, though.
But, being stranded in a dead world for half his life changed Vangriff. From the looks of the unkempt beard and hair, he's more or less stopped caring about how he appears, instead focusing on his craft and his weapons. His outlook on life is generally bleaker, and his jokes never carry as much levity as they used to. He's gained experience that he never really asked for, angles on existence he'd never seen before. Since coming back through the portal, Vangriff has been trying to adjust back to society, bit by bit.
History
Vangriff's parents always used to tell stories about how their son's first sights were of the smoldering coals of the forge, his first smells of the smoke from the bellows. He was always destined to be a blacksmith - his family had practiced the craft for generations. At an early age, Vangriff pledged himself to both his father and the trade, working diligently and spending his teenage years in his father's workshop.
But as his apprenticeship was drawing to a close, Vangriff's life took a sharp turn. He was drafted into the forces at Nethergarde Keep and was subsequently requested to accompany the Alliance Expedition. Inspired by General Turalyon's words and the valiant and grand Alliance, Vangriff told himself that he'd be fine, that the orcs had no choice but to fall beneath their blades. Boy, was he wrong.
His first glimpse of the dead world had shaken him to his core. He had never fathomed that such a desolate, barren place had existed, let alone been home to these monsters known as orcs. Vangriff had almost hurled upon realization that the road before the portal had been paved with the bones of thousands. Yet he fought on, using his knowledge of weaponry from his days at the forge to his advantage on the field, aswell as putting his smithy knowledge to work also during the construction of the outpost known as Honor Hold, helping to lay the foundation and outer walls over the period of a few months, all while participating in a few scattered skirmishes with the orcish Horde and honing his fighting skills to prepare for the inevitable battles.
During that period after coming through the portal, Vangriff had formed close bonds of brotherhood with men in his regiment. They were all eager for the upcoming battle, and headstrong, believing nothing could stand in their way. But most of them were in the same situation as Vangriff - they had no true experience on the field, having just joined a few months ago. When the time came for the Battle of Hellfire Peninsula, they had charged in recklessly, soon becoming covered in blood. But not all of the blood was too dark to be their own, and Vangriff watched as comrade after comrade fell beneath orcish blades.
Somehow he had survived that ordeal, albeit barely. Injured and bloody, Vangriff made his way back to Honor Hold, in no condition to continue with the Expedition and follow Ner'zhul. Blaming himself for the deaths of his best friends, he decided to drown his misery in dwarven spirits. It took a few weeks of swimming for someone to pull Vangriff's head back above water. This someone happened to be another member of his regiment who had fought at the Citadel, and managed to save Vangriff by literally beating some sense into (and the shit out of) him. Vowing never to let his experience at the battle repeat itself, he had plans to hone his skills in weaponry and battling. But he didn't really have a chance to do much before the world exploded.
Or, that was Vangriff's first impression. To this day, he's still not sure how he survived the sundering of Draenor brought on by the myriad portals opened by Ner'zhul. Most of what he remembers of that experience is a blur of red rock and mad sky. But he is able to recall a few parts, such as when a chunk of earth had broken off and soared skyward, nearly taking Vangriff with it, or when he was almost sucked into a flashing portal that had erupted open a few feet away.
After getting ahold of himself and helping to repair damages, Vangriff's first task was to bring closure to the apprenticeship he had started with his father. He worked diligently to perfect his craft, forging his own weapons with which to train in the process. After almost a decade of this, Vangriff set out among the ravaged world, armed to the teeth with blades crafted by none other than himself, cradling a spark of hope that he might find a way to return to his homeworld. When the portal reopened, he jumped at the first chance to return through, ignoring the fact that he would never be able to fully return to his old life.
