Durin

Information

Player: waffenbaum

Character Full Name: Durin Hammerhall

Character In-Game Name: Durin

Nickname(s): “Sarge”, “Gunny”

Association(s): Ironforge, The Alliance

Race: Dwarf

Class: Warrior

Age: 77

Sex: Male

Hair: Light brown

Eyes: Brown

Weight: 167lbs

Height: 4'1"

Appearance

A very well-kept suit of armor, recognizable as an Alliance Officers outfit dating back to the second war. Although the metal has the occasional dent and the tabard is a little faded, it looks as if it has been polished and cared for impeccably through several years of service.

Other: In his belt he wears several personal items, including but not limited to; a leather pouch, a battered tin mug, a small charm in the shape of a hammer and a carved battle horn with a silver mouthpiece.

Personality

Durin's personality is the product of a life spent mostly taking and giving orders. Like many soldiers he believes in personal strength and the vast importance of the “espirit de corps”. He takes on life's many challenges the only way he knows how; head on before attacking the flanks with superior numbers. Despite his gruff look and somewhat rigid train of thought, deep inside the cold armor and thick skin dwells the heart of a sentimental dwarf who will shed a tear when he hears the ancient songs of his people echoing through the snow-clad valleys and over the frost-peaked mountains. He also has a big soft spot for animals, no matter how foul and unappreciated they might be.

History

Durin grew up in Dun Morogh in an altogether average family. His mother, a lovely lady by the name of Esild, was a homemaker and his father, Dorn, a successful fur trader who would often make the long trip to Stormwind for the extra profit. Upon returning he would always tell his young son and loving wife of the amazing sights and sounds of this large and bustling city, and the strange and busy lives of the humans who made it their homes. Oftentimes he would bring with him souvenirs and trinkets, fine silk and human ales which would be sampled by Dorn and his friends to much amusement for them all.

While it would be unfair to describe Durin's childhood as uneventful, there was no tragic loss of loved ones, no unrequited love or even a rivalry which would later turn into a standing feud. Durin was simply an average young dwarf who had quite a few hunts and plenty of beer under his belt when he reached the age of maturity. His father had half-heartedly convinced Durin to travel to the human lands with furs in his stead. At the very least it would be “a good experience for the lad, being on his own”. And so it became that Durin undertook his first major journey with only a cheerful song as the rustle of the cold winds in the treetops for company

Fate, to those who know her, has many names. And even those without a personified concept of time and destiny will likely have felt her forceful hand on their shoulders, pushing relentlessly and usually in the direction you are least keen to travel. Perhaps it was fate whom made Durin's first visit to human lands coincide with the outbreak of the first war against the orcish hordes, but to a young dwarf who had so often lived those tales of the brave human soldiers in the safety of his home, it was a chance which had now come knocking on his proverbial door with such eager in its knocks that not even reason nor common sense could have held him back from the recruiting offices, despite the crooked looks and the initial hesitation of the recruiters to sign up a dwarf.

What followed these events was, unbeknownst to Durin at the time of his enlistment, the start of one of the most destructive and lengthy sieges in modern history, culminating in the fall of Stormwind at the hands of the orc Warchief, Orgrim Doomhammer. Durin's involvement in the battle for Stormwind was somewhat limited, as he and several other recruits had been assigned to guard a watchtower near the docks, in the event that the city would need to be evacuated by sea. But due to the unforeseen death of King Llane at the hands of an unknown assassin, the order for evacuation was never given, and though the recruits protecting the harbour saw fierce battle, the final onslaught was soon over as the orcs withdrew from the burning ruins of the razed city.

When Anduin Lothar and his forces returned to what was left of their beloved city, Durin was among the surviving soldiers who joined Lothar's army. Assembling what boats they had managed to protect, and repairing those that were not yet banished to the bottom of the sea, the beaten and bloody remains of the great army of Stormwind and the refugees of Azeroth set sail to the far off kingdom of Lordaeron. Not long after the arrival in Lordaeron, Durin was promoted to the rank of Corporal for his “selfless sacrifice to the city of Stormwind”. Though this honor had likely been bestowed to him with the intent of luring more dwarves into the service of the newly formed Alliance Army, Durin accepted his new responsibilities proudly and with a sense of accomplishment burning in his belly.

During the following six years of rapid rearmament, Durin saw many dwarves join the Alliance army. To a certain degree he felt honored to have been an inspiration to his fellow dwarves, but at the same time the grisly reality of war had dispelled some of his youthful eager for combat. What he had gained, however, was an unshakable belief in the camaraderie between soldiers, and a growing determination to see the war against the horde through till the end, whatever end that might be.

This dogged determination saw Durin through the second war, and kept his spirits up through numerous battles across the eastern kingdoms. It was during the battle of Hillsbrad that he lost two fingers on his left hand to a troll axe, though he would later recall that it had not bothered him much at the time. It could have been worse, after all, he could have been in the trolls place.

By the end of the second war and the destruction of the horde, Durin had risen to the rank of Sergeant. He had shown courage above and beyond the call of duty, though in his own words he accredited this mostly to being “bloody well set on getting this over with” so that he “could get a cold drink”. To a dwarf, the short-lived peace which followed came and went in a heartbeat. As an army instructor in Lordaeron, Durin had found a steady and rewarding pace which he had taken to with hardly any dilly-dallying or mucking about. He had felt well liked and overall respected, and then it all came tumbling down around his ears. Being of the rather hardy variety, Durin once again escaped death in a besieged city, owing more to chance than cunning. As Lordaeron fell to the vile scourge and their possessed champion, those who did not succumb to the plague were swept up by bands of refugees heading to Stormwind and Ironforge. For the first time since he had been a young dwarf newly arrived on the streets of Stormwind over thirty years ago, Durin felt alone. Though he was technically still a member of the Alliance army, his regiment had all but collapsed and those valiant men and women he had served besides for years were now dead and gone. When he arrived in Stormwind as a refugee, he was overwhelmed by the weary tiredness you might expect to find in someone who has had the entire foundation of their existence pulled from under their feet as if it was a cruel prank involving a carpet and possibly a tub of ice cold water behind them.

As a gesture of goodwill, he was offered the rank of captain in recognition of his many years in the uniform and impressive service record. Durin however turned down this offer. He had given his best years to the army, and had precious little to show for it except for scars, memories of deceased friends and two wooden fingers. A small upside to his situation however, was that throughout three consecutive wars he had spent little of his pay on himself apart from the occasional drink and pouch of tobacco. Although a soldiers wage is but a pittance, and an officers pay hardly worth a disgruntled snort, he now had a small fortune waiting in Dun Morogh, where his parents had dutifully retrieved his letters and deposited the money within for the entire duration of his military career.

There should be more than enough for a little farm somewhere, he had thought. But it would go on to prove very difficult for a dwarf who had spent almost half his life in battle to settle down from one day to the other.