Vardren Felwinter

Firstborn son of a florist and a guard in the idyllic valleys of Redridge Mountains, Vardren posseses no claim to any noble blood or title of any sort. Since the founding of the Alliance, he has been driven by a utilitarian desire to protect the union and the people therein. This desire has mixed poorly with his personal contempt for the Horde, but it has pushed him to distinguish himself with a successful military career, from the Battle of Hillsbrad in the Second War, to the slopes of Mount Hyjal. Vardren's career has culminated in establishing his own battalion of irregulars, selling his horse and armor to front the initial infrastructure costs of the Redridge Irregulars.

## ***Personality/Physical Description***

### **Personality/Attitude**

* Friendly and caring as both a commander and a friend, quick to give a few encouraging words and a smile when he senses someone doubting themselves.
* Possesses a sincere interest in the well-being of those under his command, taking aside those under his command to speak one-on-one as often as possible.
* Carelessness and a lack of concern are his pet peeves, and he is quick to react with anger toward anyone he believes to be endangering those around them.
* His affinity for those under his command mixes poorly with his impulsive anger, leading to spurts of recklessness as he places the safety of his subordinates over his own well-being.
* Often stares into space, becoming lost in thought if he remains idle for too long.

### **Physical Description**

* High-end of average height with an average figure, with a musculature forged by a lifetime of fighting. Given the extra weight around his waist, he's definitely let himself go in recent years.
* Lacking any air of nobility or noble bearing, still carries himself with a straight-backed air of confidence with his head held high.
* An idiosyncratic furrow of his brow gives the impression that he gives deep consideration to someone when first meeting them.
* Clearly an experienced veteran, bearing a portrait of scars across his limbs and torso earned by his reckless approach to combat.
* The ugly rip of a deep scar runs from his left cheek, over his mouth and to the right side of his jaw. His reckless approach to combat has its threats.

## ***History***

Vardren was born some 15 years before the Dark Portal opened, becoming apprenticed to a lumberjack at a young age. The region had been on a downturn since the summoning of Ragnaros millenia ago, but his parents still managed to provide a good childhood.

### **First War**

The onset of the First War was sudden, rumors of bestial creatures followed quickly by the orcs themselves, rampaging through the wilderness. Relying on the crown for protection and too young to join the fight himself, Vardren was forced to sit back and wait in fear for the next raid, day after day. As the orcish threat grew, citizens began to flee for the safety of Stormwind city with little more than the clothes on their back.

Vardren took his axe, a wise decision in hindsight. A pair of orcish raiders bore down on the first caravan traveling west, overtaking the guards with ease. Through sheer luck and a light-guided swing, Vardren struck down one of the orcs in a spray of blood, the top of his axe having just barely clipped an artery on the orc's neck. Pride filled him, quickly mellowed by shame as the reality of the dead settled in, corpses coated in an unidentifiable mix of blood.

The boy had never been exposed to gruesome violence in his lifetime, and the memory of his first kill would stick with him-- The boy was dead, and Vardren was taking his first bloody steps to adulthood, even as he was ushered onto boats alongside other refugees. Stormwind would burn before the orcish Horde, leaving the refugees alone with their thoughts and the constant sound of waves. For Vardren, the loss of his innocence resolved into a deep contempt for orcs and their Horde, and a desire to protect others from the bloodshed he had experienced.

### **Second War**

Vardren and his father had been separated from his mother in the chaos, and the two of them arrived in Lordaeron as refugees together. His father did what he could to train his son, understanding that in times of war, young men *had* to fight. There was no option. He had been a teenager when he landed his first kill, but by the time the Alliance and Horde clashed in Hillsbrad, Vardren was ready to stand shoulder to shoulder with other footmen, cheering at the sight of the Alliance paladins smashing orcs left and right.

His admiration of these heroes grew as they lead the Alliance in victory after victory, tempered by raw disdain for the betrayal of Alterac, extending to a degree of mistrust for nobility as a whole, with a distinct belief that birth was not a good method of choosing who had the power to change the world so much by their decisions alone. But Vardren's budding analytical mind also recognized the positives that such figures could play, rallying the morale of their troops against great odds through acts of heroism.

Something had changed within the Horde-- Their Warchief had sent some of his best troops to handle some insurrection, was the growing rumor-- It did not matter. Victory was within the Alliance's grasp, and they pursued it with dogged determination as the Horde made a rapid retreat south. The death of Anduin Lothar was heart-wrenching for the survivors of Stormwind, but it only served to turn Vardren's voice into one of the many baying for the orcs to be executed, rather than imprisoned.

#### *Interlude*

After the end of the Second War, Vardren decided to return to Lordaeron for a time, feeling a debt of honor toward the Alliance for not only welcoming the refugees from Stormwind, but their pledge of support in helping rebuild the southern kingdom. He was assigned to a brigade that patrolled the countryside of Alterac and Hillsbrad, thankfully avoiding any direct conflicts with the escaping New Horde while putting down stragglers in demonic covens.

As the Scourge began to become an insurmountable problem, Vardren found himself fleeing with refugees once more. Dalaran remained one of the few safe places in Lordaeron, though many questioned just how long that would last as the ancient elven kingdom of Quel'thalas was quickly razed by the undead menace. Along with a few friends he had made in the last few years, Vardren volunteered to join Jaina Proudmoore's expeditionary fleet, having faith in the Proudmoore name for the heroics of Kul Tiras in the Second War.

All but assured that Lordaeron and the barely-rebuilt Stormwind would be consumed by the Scourge, Vardren left for Kalimdor.

### **Third War**

The worst days of Vardren's life were his days in the Alliance Expeditionary Force on Kalimdor, when he was forced to fight alongside the Horde, with little to show for it. The concept of allies of convenience was not foreign to him, but that did not mean he had to enjoy it, or change his views on the orcs because of it. These views were only cemented as they cleaned up Hellscream's mess in Ashenvale, and gave a new dimension to Felwinter's distaste for the orcs. Even the most peaceful, noblest orc had the capacity to become nothing short of a demon on the flip of a coin. They could never be trusted.

Still, when the Prophet called the mortal races to stand alongside the ancient night elves on the slopes of Mount Hyjal, there was no refusing the call. Holding the line to the last moment, Vardren took a vicious strike to the head, knocking him cold for the rest of the battle. Unbeknownst to him, it was the work of an orc shaman that took him back from the brink of death, as the efforts of other healers failed to stop his bleeding. Decades of hatred could not be undone by a single act of kindness, but for the Horde's willingness to stand their ground against the demonic armies, they had at least earned Vardren's respect as warriors.

#### *The Founding of Durotar*

With no word from the Eastern Kingdoms as to whether the lands had survived the Scourge, Vardren remained in Theramoore, continuing his work to repay his debt of honor-- For these soldiers who he fought with were either related to or had personally fought against the Horde in the Second War.

Predictably, when Daelin arrived in Theramoore and began his campaign to crush the Horde once and for all, Vardren was all too wiling to fight for the cause he had far more of a stake in. Killing his fair share of Horde in the northern swamps, Jaina's betrayal left him with few choices: Stay and face shame from the members of the Alliance who had fought alongside the Horde, or leave.

Though he was no native to Kul TIras, Daelin's death was devastating to Vardren. That *Jaina Proudmoore*  would side with the Horde to kill her own father? Working with them was understandable, by patricide was breaking an inherent social code that could not be forgiven. Entering a period of depression, he fled the human colony to seek out a friend he had made among the night elves, drowning his sorrows for a time.

*Homecoming*

Word that Stormwind was thriving were not enough to move Vardren from his drunken habits. But between the night elves inclusion in the new Alliance, and the growing tension between the Alliance and Horde, it was hard for an old veteran to stay uninvolved.

The final straw was learning of King Varian Wrynn's mysterious disappearance while en route to a peace summit at Theramoore. His mind made up, Vardren returned to the Eastern Kingdoms, relocating a few friends once there, and finalizing his plans to establish a unit out of his homeland of Redridge to check future Horde aggression.