Fimgaar

Information

Player: ToxinDoctor.

• Character full name: Fimgaar Proudrune.

• Character in-game name: Fimgaar.

• Nickname(s): The Drunkard, Fickle-Fingers.

• Association(s): None currently; Ironforge and The Alliance formerly.

• Race: Dwarf.

• Class: Warrior.

• Age: 138.

• Sex: Male.

• Hair: The dwarf's head is shaved bald, seeming to be the only attempt of hygiene he chooses to repeat. His long beard is a mess of curly, copper-colored hair, shabbily kept in braids at the mustache by worn, steel rings. Another piece of this shoddy jewelry is cinched near the end of his beard.

• Eyes: Green.

• Weight: 255 lbs.

• Height: 5' 0".

• Other: N/A.

Appearance

He wears little else than a pair of unkempt, ragged leather trousers that seem to have been patched up several times. The only other articles of clothing he owns include the worn-out leather boots on his feet, the belt keeping his pants on, and a patch over his right eye.

Personality

• Alignment: Chaotic neutral.

As often as he can be, the dwarf is inebriated. As a result of his drunken state, Fimgaar is loud, crude, and obnoxious to a degree. What pride he once had is now gone, as he is not above begging for coin or work to cover the expense of his drinks. As the number of people in a taproom thins, he often wallows in sorrow from the tragedies of his past.

When sober (more-like hung-over), Fimgaar tends to take on an annoyed attitude, snapping at anyone around him that happens to make his headache worse. It is in this state that he is more likely to become angered, inciting barroom brawls or petty scuffles.

History

Though only a historian with access to family records could tell you whether or not his claims of having both Wildhammer and Ironforge ancestry were true, Fimgaar's parents both belonged to the Ironforge Clan, carrying the surname Proudrune. His father was a genuinely hard-working blacksmith and his mother, a housekeeper for a family that lived in the capital city. Having been raised in a healthy and warm family environment, it was no surprise that the dwarf grew up to be a promising individual.

After passing the trials that all dwarves must face when coming of age, the decision was made that he would become a warrior in service to his clan. Striving to bring glory to both his people and family, he trained with axe and hammer to become strong in battle. When conflicts erupted that included the dwarves, Fimgaar was eager to join and fight when he could, eventually earning himself a reputation of dependability among his fellow men-at-arms.

Between battles and the eventual fling here and there, Fimgaar eventually met a woman who he authentically fell in love with, ten years or so before the first Great War. The young Sarah Kindlehearth, a barmaid from Loch Modan, found much excitement in the warrior's tales of strength and struggle (most of which were embellished quite a bit), and in time, bore him a child by the name of Fetyr. Fimgaar then settled down to raise his son in the hospitable halls of Ironforge, stirring only when the dwarves were called upon to fight in the Second War alongside their human allies.

When he had returned home, the weary dwarf had found his child in the care of his elderly parents, informed that his beloved Sarah had left in search of adventure rather than raise his child. In utter disbelief, he looked upon his poor son, more heartbroken at the boy's loss of a mother than his wife's abandonment. Though it took him time to adjust to the unfortunate, shameful events, he resolved to remain strong and raise his son as best he could. Denying the rally for his people‘s involvement in the Third War, he chose instead to see Fetyr through his final years before adulthood.

From a young age, Fimgaar raised his son to be a competent warrior. When Fetyr finally reached adulthood, both father and son followed the Alliance in their disputes with the Horde and other forces, fighting in several locations including Alterac Valley, the Searing Gorge, Silithus, and even parts of Outland. It seemed that the two were nearly inseparable as they continued to face every challenge presented to them with unwavering determination. After the Lich King had challenged Azeroth and its heroes to face him in the north, father and son eagerly signed on with the Alliance Vanguard and set off to Northrend with intent to dismantle the Scourge war machine.

It didn't take long for the pair to realize that they were fighting in a war like no other before it. Moving from station to station, they eventually ended up at the frontlines of the effort, challenging the waves of undead in Icecrown. After suffering casualties, Fimgaar and Fetyr's squadron soon found itself down to less than a handful of soldiers. With their leader lost, a human soldier called for the remaining soldiers to retreat, looking over his shoulder in dismay when the warrior and his child remained behind.

Stubborn as all the tales of dwarves go, the two fought on until the number of mindless monstrosities in their area had dwindled to less than a few. Congratulating his son, the dwarf turned in curiosity when his praise had gone unanswered. His eyes happened upon a skeleton that chattered at him mockingly as it wrested it sword from Fetyr's motionless body. A feeling of ghastly disbelief washed over him then, one that could only be rivaled by what he felt years ago when the boy's mother had left them.

Fimgaar immediately flew into a rage, striking with such fury that neither of the remaining skeletal soldiers could come close to matching him. Hacking and smashing at them both, the dwarf only ceased his rampage when they were left as bits of broken bones and battered armor in the snow. Dropping his weapons, the dwarf knelt beside his fallen child, the tears streaming down his face chilling his skin from the area's freezing blasts of wind. It was too much for the father's hopes of Fetyr's survival to be answered, for the young dwarf's face had already lost all color due to the gory wound through his neck.

Under most other circumstances, the grief-stricken father would have sworn an oath to avenge his son's death that day, however, the biting cold and the maddening wails of the Scourge Army from further off in the icy wasteland only furthered his current state of agony. After returning with the body of his son to his outpost, Fimgaar remained mournful throughout the events of the war. It seemed that his knack for battle also began dwindle, eventually costing him his right eye during an assault on the Vrykul of Njorndar Village.

Ultimately, the anguished warrior was released from the Vanguard's service and sent back to Ironforge. In the days that followed his dismissal, he began to blame himself for the death of his son, wallowing in the shame of the events that had transpired in the north. Turning to drink, the dwarf squandered his money on alcohol until he was left homeless, worrying only where his next mug was coming from. After dealing with the washed out veteran for some time, the taverns and taprooms in the capital eventually denied him access, leaving the dwarf to venture elsewhere.