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Rockwell McCraken Edit
Dwarf Paladin - Follower of the Light and Prospector for the Explorer's League. Blacksmith specializing in weaponsmithing.
A stocky dwarf, weather worn face, and surrounding him is the smell of salt air and stale beer. He is prone to loud outbursts, whether it is a rowdy drinking song or boisterous laughing fits. Sticking out of his pack are various rolled up parchments, maps, and navigation charts normally seen on sailing vessels as well as an assortment of compasses, sextants, and other navigational instruments. Two symbols hang on a chain around his neck: The symbol of the Church of the Holy Light, and the crossed hammer and pick symbol of the Explorer's League.
An Introduction Edit
The sunlight glinted brightly off the calm waters of Lake Everstill in the Redridge Mountains. Sitting on the bank, a lone Night Elf sits there, enjoying the serene silence as he watches his fishing line float calmly on the lapping water. Sighing softly to himself, his mind wanders as he enjoys the reflective solitude.
“Move yerself over ya durned elf! This here’s me best fishin spot!!”
With a sudden shattering of silence, the Night Elf shakes his head as his calm moment is utterly destroyed. Looking behind him, he sees a stocky bearded dwarf standing with fishing pole in one hand and a large tankard of strong smelling beer in the other.
“Well ye gonna ta move or should I be finding a new spot!” The dwarf says then bursts out laughing, “Bah no worries lad, I’ll just park me ruddy butt next to ye then!”
With a clumsy flourish that speaks of drunkenness, the dwarf flops down beside the Night Elf and chucks his fishing line roughly into Lake Everstill with a big splash.
“Rockwell McCraken at yer service!” the dwarf says, shoving his fishing pole into the sand and thrusting a sweaty hand in the elf’s face, “Been fishin here long have ye? I’ve been away some lad! Been stationed over in Azuremyst off’er the coast o’ Kalimdor! Under the command er Admiral Odesyus himself!”
The Elf stared deeply over the lake in hopes the dwarf would go away and leave him alone.
“Some fine country over there lad! They gots some good fishin too!” the dwarf said with a boisterous laugh, “It’s sure nice ta get me self back to this continent fer some much needed fishin! Course yer from Kalimdor yerself, so you’d know what ol’ Rockwell is talking about no? Why my daughters are still over there as we speak. Trying their best ta make a name fer themselves! Makes an old dwarf proud it does! Course like teenagers, they’re still somewhat shy about their looks. Lacking confidence I say!!”
The elf sighed futilely as it became apparent his wish for solitude would never be granted. Finally risking involvement in the conversation, the elf muttered dryly.
“I’m sure your daughters are very beautiful master dwarf and will have no trouble bringing fame and fortune to themselves...” the elf said dully.
“Aye lad that they are!” the dwarf said, pausing to take a long swig from his beer, not noticing at all that his fishing bobber was bouncing wildly in the water, “course, their horns just grew in not too long ago...that’s a tough time fer any teenager!”
The elf would about to nod in agreement and stopped himself short...
“Did you say......horns?!?” the elf asked astonished.
“Well of course ya durned elf?! Why wouldn’t they have horns? Their right and proud draenei of course!! Adopted them from babies I did when I found them over there at the big crash site! What were ya thinking lad? Taurens?!?” The dwarf once again laughed loudly and took another swig from his tankard. The night elf scowled darkly and muttered something about dwarfs being off their rockers.
“Why yes lad!!” the dwarf said, “That’s what me daughters call me! Uncle Rockers! Course they’re more like daughters ta me than nieces, but it all works out in tha end. Seems like just yesterday when I was nursing them as babies on just single malt beers.”
Thoroughly annoyed and grumbling, the night elf began to reel in his fishing line. “Well I must be off master dwarf,” pausing as he got up and gathered his gear, “my regards to your.......daughters.”
“Aye thank ye lad! Best to ye and yer kin as well!” the dwarf said smiling.
As the night elf walked quickly away, the dwarf sat there, tankard in hand and silently chuckling to himself. “Hee hee, told him this was me fishing spot!”
With a loud satisfied sigh, Rockwell ignored his wildly dancing fishing bobber and laid back on the sand. Immediately breaking into a chorus of snores as he took a well deserved nap.
Sounds of ships bells clanging softly in the night, mixed smoothly with the sound of waves lapping against the rocks and wooden pylons of the Theramore docks. Some shouts and calls could be heard as a crew casually went about their duties tying the mooring lines of a ship that had recently arrived and unloading the crates and boxes from the ship’s cargo. “Rockwell McCraken,” a porter spoke to a disembarking passenger from the ship, “word has been sent ahead to Captain Vimes of your arrival and he will be expecting a meeting with you first thing in the morning. Until then, your quarters have been prepared for you.”
Stepping out on the gangplank, a short but barrel-chested of a dwarf looked out towards the moonlit roofs and towers of the frontier city of Theramore. Sighing softly to himself, the dwarf smiled somewhat as he gazed upon what he would often call his current home. Although he had been away for months, this relatively new city held a special place in his heart and he knew he would always end up here no matter how far he traveled.
“Thank ye Thomas,” the grizzled dwarf replied, still gazing out at the city, “I think I’ll be getting meself a drink or two before I settle down.”
Leaving the dock, Rockwell gazed out at the sturdy stone walls surrounding the outer borders of Theramore, the dwarf nodded to himself with satisfaction to see that they’re still standing. Being one of many craftsmen that arrived decades ago with Jaina Proudmoore’s contingent, Rockwell’s skill as a blacksmith was put to work fashioning the heavy iron girders used to frame up the thick stone walls of the new frontier city. Several dwarves spent many months building the brand new city and Rockwell felt like he left a part of himself mixed in with the mortar and cement. Theramore was a part of him.
Turning the corner, Rockwell could hear the telltale shouts and laughter of the nearby tavern. Countless hours were spent in this tavern by Rockwell, much to the dismay of Janene, the innkeeper. It wasn’t that Rockwell didn’t pay for his drinks; he always made sure he was squared up with Lillian the bartender; it was more because of how loud Rockwell and the other dwarves were when they drank together in the mostly human settlement. Entering through the door, Rockwell squinted as his eyes grew accustomed to the oil lamplight and took in the tavern’s crowd.
“Rockers!!” a familiar voice shouted from the back of the tavern, “ye durned coot!! Come here and buy me a drink fer being away so long!”
Rockwell smiled as he gazed to the back to see a dwarf sitting at his usual table. Torq Ironblast, the resident gunsmith, smiled a toothy smile back at his old friend and wave him over with a greasy hamhock of a hand. Rockwell had met the dwarf when he first arrived at the new city and the two became fast friends. Although the paladin had never used guns nor wanted to learn, the two took together like coal and iron and had been friends ever since. Striding over, Rockwell waved a hand at the now visibly disappointed innkeeper to bring more ale to the table.
“What are ye doing back here ye dolt? I thought ye were off running through the woods with those durned Night Elves?” the gunsmith chortled as he poked a stubby finger at Rockwell’s belly.
“I wasn’t dealing much with the elves, ye mud fer brains!” Rockwell replied winking at his friend, “They’re a wee bit too serious fer me liking, but I managed to meet the Draenei. Them horned folk are rather nice, Torq, I think ye’d like them!” Being an active member of the Explorer’s League, Rockwell had jumped at the chance to be among the crew assigned to greet the new visitors on the northern Isles of Kalimdor. Serving under Admiral Odesyus, Rockwell was assigned to the fleet of ships that made first contact with the strange and mysterious draenei.
“They’re not so solemn as the durned elves.” Rockwell continued, “I rather enjoyed sharing a wee pint with more than one of them. And their “ship” as they call it, Torq! You should see the Exodar, lad. Never a finer construction than I’ve seen! I was truly impressed by them I was!”
“Aye, I heard” Torq said a knowing look in his eye, “so taken were ye by those people I heard ye even adopted two of their kind ye did!”
Rockwell chuckled back at his friend and nodded, “That I did mate. Two teenagers really by our right, but still needin a parent to help them on their way since their mum and dad perished in the crash. They’re both capable though and already their out on their own exploring the world. I told them to look fer me here if ever they be needin help.” As usual with most dwarves, the conversation took a few minutes of silence as the drinks arrived and the dwarves devoted themselves to down the first of what will become many rounds of dark beer.
“So,” Torq said, after a loud belch, “What brings ye back here to Theramore?”
“Stopping to rest a wee bit,” Rockwell replied before his face darkened a bit, “before I set off back to the home city and north to the former lands o’ Lordaeron.”
“Now why would ye go and tromp around there, lad?” Torq barked back at his friend, “That lands’ been right cursed it has! All sorts of demons, ghouls, and other nasty beasties there ta make yer life right down miserable!”
Rockwell looked back at his friend with a rather sobering look and sighed to himself.
“There’s been talk of the Scourge changing methods there, mate. “ the dwarf replied, “Seems to be something going on there and some strange folk have been showing up from the Northlands. I’ve been told by both the Explorer’s League and the Argent Dawn to join their efforts there.”
“Well surely, ol’ Ingo here can do something te make you stay here, lad?” Torq replied referring to Ingo Woolybush, the resident Explorer’s League representative in Theramore and also a good friend of the two dwarves.
“Naw, Ingo knows about it lad,” Rockwell replied, “Also knows he won’t be changin me mind about it too. I’m going there ta find out what’s going on and ta help rid the Scourge in the process too.”
“Well yer a durned fool fer doing it, Rockers” Torq chortled, taking another long swig from his beer, “but I applaud yer spirit lad!”
Seeing his now empty mug, Torq waved once again to the innkeeper Janene to bring more rounds.
“Well since ye be heading back out again fer some time, “ the grizzled gunsmith winked at his friend, “how about we give ol’ Janene a taste o’ what it’s like ter have some dwarves in the tavern again!! Ya?”
The annoyed grimace of the tavern keeper only encouraged the two more to enjoy what would undoubtedly be a long, fruitful night of drinking.