Dorrin Mountainfoot. Named after his father Dorin Mountainfoot, elder of the Mountainfoot clan of Ironforge.
Age, experience and past roads walked have taken their toll on this weathered looking Dwarf. Neither his size nor his shape would stand out from any other Dwarf. The colour has one from his hair, but a fire remains in his soul as can be seen when looking in his eyes. A hunter of old but a warrior a new. Dorrin stands strong and proud. Never could one hope for a better friend, but and enemy of his would not be wanted.
Race and ClassEdit
Dwarf Male Warrior (former Hunter)
A tinkerer. Dorrin Mines to bring supplies home and also gathers for the Engineers of Ironforge. Has started learning from the Gnomes hence classes himself as a tinkerer.
Father, Dorin Mountainfoot. Brothers Ord & Angus.
The heat belches forth not so much like a wind but like a constant veil on the skin. While this plays with one sense, the ears contend with the repetitive sound of worked metal. Yet, this is not harsh, this is comforting. As a backdrop to this dark atmosphere there is also song and laughter that brings its own warmth. This is Ironforge.
The Mountainfoot family has lived in the depths of Ironforge since anyone can remember. The coming of the second war took its toll as it did on many families, but this also brought the bond of the community. As with Ironforge itself, the Mountainfoots has their own structure. They needed trade, food and protection like anyone. Throughout the War Ironforge had been a busy centre supplying lands far and wide with the required wares. The great forge second to none.
Head of the family stands Dorin Mountainfoot, a warrior of old and a blacksmith by trade. Age may have taken him away from the outside world, but within the deep dwellings of the forge, his hammer still works. A proud dwarf and a dwarf of the community.
But, our attention here is not to Dorin, nor to his warrior son Angus or their troubled son Ord. No, here our attention is cast to Dorrin, the eldest son.
After the second war, times were hard. Everyone within the forge had their part to play and the elder Dorin would have it no other way. They needed food and clothing. So from a young age Dorrin would be given rabbits and deer to skin. As he grew he would venture out of the forge gathering his own. Rabbits became deer became small wolves and bears. He enjoyed the chase, the hunt and the kill.
Through time though, Dorrin became restless. His father had told him many stories of the outside world, all these stories having a similar theme. The Horde. Never could he have believed such hate could come from his father. But this group of beasts, all foul carrying the stench of death, has caused so much pain within the forge. Lost friends and family. The scars were deep.
Many people say that something needs a spark, one way or another to set a reaction. Here we have Dorrin, an honest, trusting Dwarf with strong family ties. Like many he has a hatred only for the Horde and any who would hurt without need, but this hatred was stored deep in his soul. He even trusted the strange visitors to the forge such as Men and Night Elves. But then there was the spark.
Though the horde was never seen in these lands, word came back to the family that Axil, a longstanding family friend has been killed. Not while hunting by a bear or in any great war, but while he lay injured after a fall in the mountains, he waited for help that had been sent for. It is said that a small Horde band – maybe 4-6 strong had moved unnoticed into the area, found Axil and not only killed him, but tortured his already weak body, toying with it until becoming bored and spearing him several times, leaving his mutilated figures in the now red stained snow.
His family were devastated. He had been such a peaceful dwarf and this sent a shockwave through the community igniting old flames. Dorrin could sit around no longer. He was inexperienced and didn’t know what he could do, but he knew he had to do something.
His father though understood and his path was clear. He must seek out Grif Wildheart in Dun Morogh who can set him further down his chosen path.
Dorrin gathered a few things, and set off down the hill knowing this time; it could be a while before his return.
Through the years, Dorrin grew in stature. Now a well known and likable Dwarf in his circles. He was known most for his loud laughter, his fondness of the Ale and possibly more so, for his beloved companion, his bear Oscar. The two were inseparable.
Early on in his training, Dorrin joined the ranks of The Templar Order. Dorrin rose through the ranks and eventually he stood proud as one of their Officers. Through good times and hard times, he and the Templars led the way, leading from the front in the warlike times. Eventually, as the scars both outside an inside were set deep, Dorrin knew that his time was coming to a close. Many battles had been won and lost. Dorrin had traveled far with Oscar by his side. He was now starting to picture himself sitting back in the Forge with his family. He had fought the greatest demons, dragons and beasts that the land could throw at him, yet he still stood proud.
So, the day came when he loaded his rifle for the last time. He had stood down from the Templar Order, an order he would surely miss. He returned home.
Perhaps it was his time; perhaps it was the lack of action or maybe the change in ways he had been accustomed to. But, Oscar - Dorrins most loyal friend, passed away. Dorrin was said to be a very inward Dwarf, never really revealing his deepest thoughts or emotions. However, on this loss, it is said it cries of woe could be heard over the thunder of the forge. Then followed silence. Dorrin was then not seen for months.
So, we come to more recent days. Dorrin had, mostly, been helping his family in the forge. Helping his father with his copper smelting, something Dorrin had become interested in. To keep his mind off things, Dorrin had started to help the Gnomes in Ironforge with simple trinkets. Fixing a few and even designing a few. His family supplied them with smelted metals so he had a bond and a fondness of their kind.
Once again though, troubles were rising in his lands. Some of his close allies were concerned. Too many people were being forced into war; too many families were loosing their kin far too early. Not only this, but again trouble was coming to their own door. Dorrin had vowed long ago he would never step out as a Hunter, not without Oscar. So, Axe in hand, Dorrin had started building up his own weapon skills. He had made himself a new rifle, but planned only to use this when circumstance demanded.
He had been largely kitted out by his Blacksmith friend Astamore. Then, it was with he and a few other good friends of Dorrins, that they set out together. Once more Dorrin felt the chill on his face leaving Ironforge. No longer the retired hunter, but the keen warrior learning his way. This time a grim determination on his face. Together, the group named themselves The Free Company. They soon set to work in nearby lands across Dun Morogh, Elwynn and Westfall to beyond.