Gregg

Information

Player: Reese777

Character full name: Gregg Anders

Character in-game name: Gregg

Nickname(s): N/A

Association(s): N/A

Race: Human

Class: Brewmaster

Age: 28

Sex: Male

Hair: Vibrant Orange

Eyes: Irish Green

Weight: 210 lbs

Height: 6' 4

Alignment:Chaotic Good

Appearance

Usual Garments/Armor: Gregg Anders was once a Paladin. And, like a Paladin, he would wear the required armor. This was so in his time with the Silver Hand, this was so with the Lightsworn, however, it is NOT so upon his ‘ascension' to Brewmaster. Now, as a Brewmaster, he keeps himself to simple clothes, sometimes covered by a long duster coat. Additionally, his once fanatically trimmed hair has grown long and unruly due to him ignoring it for so long, which gives him a decidedly "dashing" appearance.

Other: He has a gimp in his right leg from having it injured immensely pre-death.

Skills and Abilities

Unholy tolerance of alcohol. Increased dodge capabilities, especially when drunk. However, he's drunk, so obviously a reduction in offensive and tactical capabilities. The more he drinks, the less potent his dodging becomes, as well. Additionally, he has several brews prepared that allow for special abilities.

Drakefire Chile Ale

This is the one that makes you breath copious amounts of fire. However, it cannot be used frequently, as it burns the insides of one's mouth.

Ironboot Brew

Allows him to temporarily transform into an Iron Dwarf.

Alestorm Brew

Upon consumption, everyone in the area will become temporarily intoxicated, excluding Undead. (Basically an AoE fear) However, this is a ridiculously potent brew, and can put even Gregg out quicker than he'd like.

The Flee-For-Your-Life Special

When consumed, it causes the user's skin to meld in with its surroundings. However, it is not complete invisibility, only transforming his body into the colors of his surroundings. Thus, an outline can be seen, and tracks can still be tracked.

Personality

He's the cockiest and most overly theatric man this side of Azeroth. That's not to say he isn't friendly. Indeed, he's positively jovial. Childishly so, even. It's just he thinks so highly of himself and his powers no evil heretics or undead or anyone could possibly stand against him, not even the Lich King. He is often scolded because of this, but will more than likely laugh it off. Come to think of it, he's very dwarven in action, as with his affiliation with alcohol as well as his it's actually quite surprising he was a paladin at all, what with all his flaws. Don't let these fool you, however, he's a very strong believer. Unshakeable, even. He just hides this behind a veil of jocularity. And while he still believes in the Light as a brewmaster, he is far more interested in his craft than he was of his religion.

History

Small house. Small income. Large family. Such was the beginning of Gregg's long childhood at Southshore. He grew up the second to youngest of three brothers and a sister (the sister being youngest) on his Pa's struggling farm. There are a couple things wrong with this lifestyle. A) They were poor (pretty much a given.) B) They were too pious for their own good (beat you with a switch if you did something unholy pious.) C) Alcoholic Father (Would one be surprised? Most of everyone was in his childhood. This was a large contributing factor in their poverty.) D) Mother sat by the fire weeping about all her problems. Indeed, Gregg commonly asserts that aside from caring for him as a child, the only thing she ever DID for him was teach him to play the fiddle.

All of these factors contributed to his youthful rambunctiousness. As a child, he spent his mornings and evenings climbing trees and wrestling/fist-fighting boys in the schoolyard and in the back alleys, the switch beating afterward because fighting was not approved also being a test of masculinity. The child who sobbed the most was teased the most the next morning. His mother disapproved. "What kind of world do we live in that children fight for superiority?" She'd say. However, his father would just guffaw, slap his knee, and say, "'Atta boy! Jus' like yer old man, eh? Haha!"

He soon grew into a testosterone filled lad of muscles and activity, already at this time working hard labor on the farm. But he didn't want to do that boring business all his life. He craved adventure! He craved grandeur! He craved what was just! And so he began to secretly build up funds for the beginning of a life away from that dusty old farm, doing odd jobs and working in town for the lazy drunks.

And soon he had realized his passion of becoming a paladin, just at the cost of abandoning his family to their common fates. I suppose he thought he'd pay them back some day in the riches that followed such champions. He was sorely mistaken. He got a shiny suit of armor and a weapon, sure, but no riches. By that time, however, he didn't care much.

Now, on to business! He was carted off to Northrend to combat the scourge before he could say "Wait... wha'?"

After that war ended, he greatly desired to settle down and find himself a nice simple position in or around Stormwind. He settled in Stormwind, but the position he got was not so simple. He joined a revival of the Silver Hand and was killed in action, having to be resurrected soon after. The comrades parted ways, but their names were not forgotten. Indeed, Gregg would soon meet a former comrade of his, Amerand, who invited him to reinvigorate his sense of purpose and join the Lightsworn, a guild of lightusers dedicated to ushering in the era of good, by any means necessary. Poor, Foolish Gregg didn't know this at the time, and went along with it. To make matters worse, he had begun to fall in love. This was not acceptable, and he was hauled off in the dead of night, brainwashed by a man named Bernard, High Inquisitor of the Lightsworn, to give him a new identity and a new personality. This led to complications, as he immediately began to assume everyone who insisted they knew him was a heretic. He nearly tore one of his friend's arms off. Such a thing could not continue.

And that opportunity would come when Bernard decided to use Gregg to his advantage.

He set fire to the frequent bar Gregg visited aflame (using a fervent member, not himself, of course) and then tried to blame the two other leaders in their Triumvirate. However, his plans were foiled, devious as they were, and Gregg found a detailed account of his brainwashing. To find out his life is a lie, and to find out the one's that he was hurting were actually his best friends… he spiraled into a deep depression and decided that it was time for a journey of self-discovery. Thus, he made his goodbyes and set off for the unknown. A few days into the journey, however, he would come upon his solution, deep within the Redridge Mountains…

It was night, and he had not stopped since he set out. He ate, yes, and he drank, too, when the situation called. But he did not stop to sleep, and was thus noticeably fatigued when he came upon what appeared to be a meditating bear, with what appeared to be several kegs of alcohol and a pack mule. Of course, Gregg thought that his lack of sleep was getting to him, until the Pandaren, introducing himself as Xiao Bo, waved him over and, smiling, asked him to introduce himself. He did, and soon they were having merry old chats about events past and events present. They chatted, and they drank. And it was in this drinking that Gregg's memories of before his brainwashing flooded into his mind, except the one's of his actual brainwashing were lulled and unremembered. Thus, he had no knowledge of how he got there and was in the presence of a bear with claws and teeth and other such nonsense. He was also drunk, so his common sense was lacking. He charged the bear out of panic, and was handily beaten by… wouldn't you know it… gracefully lucky hand-to-hand combat. However, what was interesting about this was that, for a while, he was holding his own with the very same tactics, something that very much surprised Xiao. Thus, Gregg now being ‘himself', they reintroduced themselves (as was only polite) and got back to chatting, where Gregg expressed his passion for the drink and a surprising in depth review of the brews Xiao presented.

Thus, Xiao offered Gregg a place as his apprentice, which Gregg accepted immediately. Perhaps he had known all along he would end up a slobbering (if dashing) drunk. Nevertheless, they travelled far and wide and Xiao taught Gregg the finer points of brewing (which he had never done before, and thus had to work and study hard). He taught Gregg which ingredients could be used to strengthen the taste of the brew, and which combinations of ingredients to use to make a man weep with joy upon sampling. He even taught Gregg how to be skilled in the art of drunken fighting, as opposed to just having a rudimentary skill with it, and as Gregg learned all these things, he began to feel a sense of purpose. This was what he was supposed to be doing. With this sense of purpose finally came the unlocking of all his memories. He was Gregg Anders, and damn what you think, this brew tastes good.