Kaeden Brewmane

"Rendering priestly service to any and all in need; he'll be sure to interest ya'n a pint just like the good doctor orders."

Physical Appearance
Kaeden looks to be a stout, and portly dwarf of middling age and height. His eyes are kind, adding to a genial visage that’s flanked by two full rosy cheeks. Donned in priestly vestments, the garment harbors visible stains which paint a history of misplaced ale.

His better half- the beard, appears immaculately cared for having been combed down neatly into a luscious center-mass and banded together just inches before the ends would meet. Alongside of which, two smaller clasps rest in a similar manner. The ensemble strikes a certain quality in the otherwise unkempt priest.

Character Backstory
Kaeden Brewmane was born the last son of Clan Brewmane within Khaz Modan’s eastern frontier- the temperate, hilly region of Loch Modan. His family maintained a small, yet profitable brewery that was enough to support his kin- as well as the ever-parched dwarves set to work within nearby archaeological digsites.

In his youth, Kaeden had learned mundane methods of first-aid from the local guardsmen patrol, and found purpose in helping those in need within surrounding communities. From setting splints for broken bones suffered in digsite accidents to wrapping and treating wounds sustained from encounters with local wildlife- Kaeden garnered a local reputation that allowed for a meager, though honest source of income to which he was grateful for.

Years had passed, and Kaeden had begun to develop a keen sense of longing to advance his knowledge in the arts of healing; a longing that was satiated within the Great Halls of Ironforge ten years before the Second War.

Having spent the time required to advance his studies- Kaeden poised himself ready to utilize these newfound skills and give back to the ones who gave him this purpose in life; by joining the Medical Corps of Ironforge’s Armies and assisting those within the frontier reaches of Khaz Modan just like the guardsmen before him.Time passed swiftly, as each case would prove to be a novel experience which cumulatively instilled mastery over his craft. Having seen the extent of the frontier and the previously unknown dangers within, Kaeden’s worldview expanded considerably; a sense of scale now fully developed within the mind of the dwarf. Nearly ten years had passed, and the drums of war soon emerged across Khaz Modan- the Second War had begun.

Unbeknownst to Clan Brewmane- who were still prospering within the frontiers of Loch Modan, Khaz Modan would soon be the target of the Orcish Horde. Seeking the rich variety of valuable metal ores and oil- in addition to the dwarves’ mighty forges- before continuing on, well-equipped to launch their assault on Lordaeron soon afterwards.

As the Invasion of Khaz Modan progressed, the Dwarves of Ironforge soon retreated back within their Great Halls (as did the Gnomes within Gnomeregan), readying themselves to outlast the enfolding siege. Kaeden was among those within the Great Halls assisting the wounded- and counting every dead. Seeing the Dwarves as the greater threat between the two races, the Armies commanded by Ogrim Doomhammer focused their attentions on Ironforge.

The dwarves, now recognizing the severity of their circumstances, realized this would be their last stand and adopted a stoic sense of endurance in the face of insurmountable adversity. Prepared to die fighting- their fury unrivaled. Of course- even a dwarven medic would die fighting to the last for the sake of their Kingdom’s survival. Kaeden was ready in-arms despite his lack of martial training; ready to give back for every counted dead.

“How dare they threaten our ancestral home- our very existence?” he’d thought. In these moments of strife, a fury began to swell within. Much like the waters of The Loch held beyond the Stonewrought Dam- a rising tide of indignant rage threatened to give-way and burst out against the enemy. In spite of that, another voice grew from within- one of reason and purpose; a voice of faith.

Listening further, Kaeden grasped onto this voice which felt so distant- yet exuded familiarity as if it were present the whole time. Simultaneously, the adjacent fury threatening to give-way moments before began to diminish in kind. Stemming from the faith which Kaeden now held cradled within- a veil of warmth began to enshroud his inner being. Falling upon his shoulders and enveloping much like the embrace of his own mother. Laced with nostalgia reminiscent of better days- a feeling of peace now sprouting from within.

Kaeden stepped back, growing reassured in his role. Setting forth with a focused dedication to save anymore wounded he could- this was where he was most impactful at this very moment. Not on the frontlines, not yet. Certainly not while droves of wounded soldiers lay writhing in pain; not when he could ease their suffering.

His hands moved with a skilled assurance which, when observed by others- spoke of experience acquired through decades of practice. As he worked, the bandages and thread which mended flesh to bone began to emanate a warmth of their own; a radiating luminescence which was noted by onlookers. Kaeden spoke no words- no response but for his own genial visage, giving reassurance all the same."It was within these Great Halls that Kaeden Brewmane's faith in the Light was founded, and his purpose grew in bounds with that faith."Every resource was mobilized, and nearly the entire population took up arms to resist the siege. Every man, woman, and child within Ironforge was ready to die for the sake of their kin that day. As the siege intensified, the death toll proved horrendous for the orcs; for every dwarf that fell, ten orcs were felled in turn. In time, the cost grew so great that Doomhammer called off the siege. At the same time- the Orcish Horde were met with similar results when attempting an assault on Gnomeregan, and both sieges were ultimately called off.

The cities had proven too costly in both time and manpower, but their short-term goals were still met nevertheless. The bountiful resources of Khaz Modan were taken, and horde smiths quickly got to work while the Bleeding Hollow Clan kept watch on both sides- keeping both dwarf and gnome contained for the duration of the war.

The days to follow were grim and bloody for those wayward refugees seeking to escape from the encroaching Horde, and Clan Brewmane was no exception to this. The Loch was swiftly overrun by the conflict and bloodshed which ensued; the Clan's homestead and brewery razed to the ground by orcish raiding parties.

Years passed, and as the war progressed with the emergence of the newly formed Alliance- the Orcish Horde were pushed back in full-reatreat. The Alliance was advancing to liberate Khaz Modan beyond the Thandol Span- and so they did. With the last vestige of Bleeding Hollow Clan orcs now defeated at their doors, the Dwarves of Ironforge and the Gnomes of Gnomeregan emerged from their cities for the first time in years. Celebrating the lifting of the siege, both the dwarves and gnomes eagerly joined the Alliance.

Hunting parties scoured the lands soon after, rooting out any remaining presence of enemy occupation. The pursuit resumed and the Horde were routed at Blackrock- the Dark Portal destroyed soon after, of which we all know. The Alliance was victorious, yet the cost had been high. Too high for some. Kaeden had spent many months after the war searching for his kin to no avail. It was clear that the Orcish Horde were too swift; the liberation of Khaz Modan too late. Clan Brewmane was annihilated during the time of the Second War, like many others slain beside them.

To this day, broken Horde catapults and billistae can be seen strewn about the lands of Loch Modan. A mute and somber means of evidence to the region’s brief- though bloody, and sorrowfull history.

(Still very much a WIP! Changes to be made, details added… or removed)