Tales of a Headlands Brawler

It's happy hour, the alcohol is flowing. It's time to pull up a tankard of ale, bottle of wine for the ladies and regail tales of heroism and grandeur.

Topic/Postby Dremonth » 21 Mar 2011, 00:24

Tales of a Headlands Brawler

Tales of a headlands brawler

Evening at the Recluse, a tavern well known for it’s generally more familiar atmosphere compared to its old town contemporary, yet tonight it seemed far from the usual quiet congregation of relaxing mages: a small gathering of fancily dressed individuals had all nestled together along the tables of the upper floor, the sounds of frivolous enjoyment and happy banter filling the otherwise quite somber tavern. At one point, one of the troupe would turn towards a big, burly, eye patch wearing man:
”So, you want a story eh? Well let me see then…” Allistair would rock on his chair, wiping the foam out of his moustache with the back of his hand. He would seem contemplative for a moment, hardly regular behavior for such a normaly straightforward man, but it would be a state that he left as swiftly as he entered it. “Ah yes! That one would fit perfectly!”...


Below follows the accounts of Allistair Dremonth’s exploits. The middle aged warrior has experienced quite a few brawls in his time, before and after the worgen curse befell him (and indeed before the Greymane wall was erected as well). The format, of which I intend to use, is to allow any interested parties to Ic’ly ask him a question about his past doings/exploits/battle scars here in this thread.

Some small guidelines
1) I will respond to posts in the order that first come/first serve, however if you see a sizeable backlog of questions (2-3) which has been unanswered, then you might wish to wait before posting your own.
2) Allistair has spent most of his life within Gilneas borders (this includes Pyrewood Village and surrounding environs pre-Greymane wall) , and thus know very little about what occurred far away from there, especially after the wall came up.
3) Shady/grey Lore areas are to be expected if questions come up in which I cannot find comprehensive background detail. I will strive to keep it as adherent to current lore as possible, but if anything comes up which is glaringly wrong, then assume that Allistair didn’t know better, or was too drunk to remember the true account.
4) You may respond to Stories Ic’ly which has been posted, for ease of oversight, quote the title of the story in your response.
5) Comments on my writing are welcome, but to keep it clean refer any and all commentary on writing etc to my Private message box.
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Topic/Postby Lilandris » 26 Mar 2011, 22:36

Lilandris took a swig of burnwine from her glass, before leaning back in her chair and giving Dremonth a smirk.

"So then, tell us, what happened to your eye, big man?"

Lil seemed somewhat pleased with her question, even though she had pointed out perhaps the most obvious feature of the man. She then fell silent as to listen to the man's answer.
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Topic/Postby Dremonth » 27 Mar 2011, 20:46

”My eye?” chuckling while looking at Lil ”All right I’ll humor you, even if the story is scarcely something for ladies ears!”, steepling his fingers he would adopt a thoughtful expression “Now let me see”



As I might have said earlier I spent a period of time at Stoneward prison, usually quite orderly as far as a prison goes but… well it was a bit different from the norm when my lot arrived. We had recently been apprehended for instigating rebellion against the king, which was indeed quite true. We had risen up against the ruler classes and their morally bankrupt plans, but when citizenry rise up against nobility… one finds that the rebels has quite the tall order to fill. We had this narrowest of windows when we could have succeeded in displacing the King and his followers… and failed. The leadership of the Northgate rebellion was captured and sent to Stoneward, along with whatever man at arms that Lord Crowley had with him at the time… like yours truly.

But to return to the prison itself, it was usually quite the upstanding establishment. But when our folk were carted in, we noticed that the highly vaunted professionalism was somewhat lax. The guards would not react to a Northgate rebel being beaten up by fellow inmates, yet crack down on the same rebel if he tried to fend for himself. Now I don’t know what kind of wages a prison guard would pull, but if they were being paid per bruise on our hides... then they would be living quite fine indeed. Now they did not touch Lord Crowley of course, him being a nobleman and all with a fair deal of connections he could pull, but the common folk of the Northgate rebellion were more or less fair game.

In fact there was this one big brute; now what was his name… oh yes... Euchuriya Sims. Who Sim was? Well as far as I gathered, he was before his incarceration in the business of beating the living shit out of each and every shop owner that would not pay him not to. And as far as my sources were correct, he did quite well in the protection trade, that is until he had threatened one clothier too many, a clothier with contacts that is. So he found himself landed in Stoneward, and being a pragmatic son of a bitch he had decided to simply move his business from outside the prison walls… to inside them. When the rebels were put behind bars he was given a plethora of soft targets, as the guards did not intervene on their behalf he could ply his trade as much as he wanted… or at least that was what he thought.
He had sighted in McGregor, a young farmhand from the headlands, as his first target. Wobbling over his postulant bulk to the youngster one day in the courtyard, he had a certain dark look over him which telegraphed exactly what he had in mind. I don’t actually think Sims had a single delicate bone in his body, for right there in the middle of daylight he simply biffed young McGregor right in the face. The lad was simply dumbstruck of shock by this sudden aggression, and of course the thin rivulets of blood coming out of his nose. Sims towered over him with the smuggest shit eating grin you could ever imagine, moving to kick the boy where he laid as the guards had not moved at all in response to his actions.

Now at this point Sims plan went fairly wrong, having let his guard down entirely as his victim showed no signs of rising up to defend himself. If I could have made a picture of the expression he made after I had sank my right fist in his side… I’d have the basis for a great comedy. The sound of my punch went through the entire courtyard, and this time the clinking sounds of guardsman armor moving rapidly towards us could be heard. Sims face however was redder than the reddest dawn, such humiliated fury one can hardly believe, and he retaliated against my punch with one of his own. Taking it squarely in the chest, it was all I could do not to lose my breath, having been hit by what must have been a meat battering ram. Having taken his hit however, I found myself in a brilliant position to return it, and so I did. The sound of clattering china is reminiscent of what I heard there, as my left fist sent Sims teeth flying in a spray of gore. I was going to finish it all with a knee to the stomach when I think my head exploded… a guardsman’s cudgel had hit me squarely on the side of my head.

I woke up… I think three days later, in solitary confinement. Mind you, despite the pain of a ruined eye, and the constant ringing of my head, I must say the mental image of a toothless Euchuriyah Sims cheered me up immensely!
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Topic/Postby Maiar » 27 Mar 2011, 22:19

*leans back in a chair while listening to Allistair*

That sounds aweful was there none at all you could talk to about the brutality of the guards?
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Topic/Postby Dremonth » 27 Mar 2011, 22:27

He would chuckle, shaking his head as he turned his attention to Maiar.
"Oh no, you fail to realize that we were not citizens anymore. Treason is no light matter after all"
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Topic/Postby Dremonth » 01 Sep 2011, 18:39

Long awaited update!

As you all know, I shifted Drem back to the characters original name and identity at the start of the summer. It was I'cly described via having Allistair go up north to fight the good fight against Sylvanas besieging forces, but I did note that despite the toon itself being now occupied, the identity of Allistair would make a return some day.

You see, Allistair the ever boastfull brute did not fare as well up north as he usualy did... in fact, he didnt fare well at all. During an ambush of Horde supplies headed to Andorhal, his unit was in itself ambushed by Scourge operating out of Scholomance. During a long and protracted battle, the old brawler got several minor wounds upon his form, poisoned ones. He was subdued, dragged into scholo, and then some rather unspeakable acts were performed.

To not further overexplain what and why, Il just talk about the end result: Dremonth is back, but Im using my recently customized Deathknight to represent him.
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Topic/Postby Lilandris » 01 Sep 2011, 18:53

Cool, Dremonth was a cool character after all :)

Also this thread needs more love
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Topic/Postby Serendipity » 01 Sep 2011, 18:58

I mostly approve. Sad to see him dead!
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