"Sir" Bhaldorn MacLaren the Drunk


Knight-Lieutenant of the First Regiment (Former)


Gardener (Former)
Farmer (Former)
Fisherman (Former)
Soldier (Former)
Unemployed/Part-time Fighter


MacLaren Family's hut,
Duchy of Westridge

Date of Birth

November 28th, 598 K.C. (28)


Kingdom of Stormwind

Grand Alliance



Immediate Relatives

George-Michel MacLaren (Father, Deceased)
Meghan Tully (Mother, Deceased)
Evander (Brother, Alive, 34)
Dashiell (Brother, Alive, 24)
Claudia (Sister, Alive, 20)
Devon (Brother, Alive, 19)


The Head of House MacLaren (Defunct)
The Humble


Big Mac
The Drunk

Bhaldorn MacLaren is a former Knight-Lieutenant of the Stormwind Army, serving the entirety of his 12 year career with the First Regiment. After retiring from the army and working as a foreman for the Stoneframe Contracting Co., Bhaldorn has fallen onto hard times. With homelessness, whoring, and alcoholism now ailing his existence, his income comes from dirt-cheap work as a stevedore and underground fights; the entirety of his profits goes straight into fueling his addictions.


What was once a great and mighty physique has wilted with the passage of time and the living of an unhealthy lifestyle. The large, sculpted muscles that once made up Bhaldorn's frame have all but disintegrated, now shells of their former selves adorning his thin body. Long arms and legs once comparable to the mightiest boughs of a great tree now bear more resemblance to its highest, smallest branches, with bones showing under his skin at the elbow and knee. His armspan is 7 feet and 1 inch; the huge breadth from palm to palm that once giving him the edge to best many great foes instead serve the new purpose of beating other drunks in bar fights. Connecting the former to his body remain his broad shoulders, now more squared and no longer rippling through his shirts. A wide but flattened chest sits beneath, and what once was a statuesque core has now devolved into a slightly protruding gut. His back remains wide but has lost its definition, no longer giving his torso the impressive taper from shoulder to hip it once had. Huge hands and feet lie at the end of his appendages, both weathered and knobbly, the former having welts and scars about the knuckles. When healthy and fit Bhaldorn had once weighed an immense 265 pounds, practically all of this in heavy and powerful muscles. Now his weight wanders anywhere between 180 and 190 pounds, the musculature lost from a lack of nutrition and exercise, becoming instead a mixture of mostly fat and bone. Though this is still a substantial weight to most, Bhaldorn's thick and dense skeletal frame was made to support much more, thus leaving him with a rangier, lanky physique. With a single glance at Bhaldorn, one can tell he has experienced a monumental fall from grace. 

His build was once considered the optimal configuration of raw, brute strength and lean, speedy athleticism; a pinnacle of health and fitness amongst his troops, an imposing and terrifying opponent in battle. Now he no longer looks suited for any such things, instead looking as if a strong gust of wind might topple him over. He stands quite tall at 6 feet 3½ inches, with his height accompanied by a ramrod-straight posture, underlying military experience and perhaps a shred of dignity left in his withered body. His skin had once been well kept and work-tanned, but its now littered with scars, pockmarks, and bruises.

Bhaldorn face is comprised of strong masculine features such as his chiseled jawline, high cheekbones, prominent nose, and sloped forehead. This face which once took the fancy of many women has become gaunt and hollow, with a long, scruffy beard hiding his dimpled chin and reddened cheeks. His hair, formerly cut and shaped to military standard, has grown to his shoulders in length, a perpetual layer of grease now giving his knotted auburn locks a repulsive sheen. His beautiful forest green eyes, famed for the thin golden rings encircling his pupils, seem deeper set than they once did, with bags occupying the space around them. A permanent scowl besets his grim face, removing any notions of attraction one might have had for him. He often gazes in absence at the happenings around him, this 'thousand-yard-stare' showing he constantly relives the unimaginable horrors of his early adulthood spent in the military. 

Hygiene and cleanliness were once big parts of Bhaldorn's life, but these have clearly fallen to the wayside. Bhaldorn has lost his impeccable shape and fitness, and his pride has gone with them. With his sanity barely clinging to existence, perhaps next to go is his mind.

Arms and ArmorEdit

Bhaldorn once donned the glorious armor of a knighted officer: thick steel plates covering links of mail with a gold-trimmed blue gambeson underneath, embroidered and beautifully patterened, with the horse-hair crested helm of knights of the Brotherhood of the Horse covering his head. A surcoat covered his breastplate, the golden lion's head on a field blue, the symbolism of the kingdom he served, with the single gold bar of a knight-lieutenant fixed over his heart. An arming sword of Dwarven make hung from a beautiful sheath on his sword belt. Nicknamed 'Biter', its skillful use was rumored to have slain hundreds of orcs in battle, the moniker supposedly coming from the way it bit into greenskin flesh. A heater shield was slung over his shoulder, the same golden lion of his surcoat painted upon its hardwood panels. The shield was beaten, covered in nicks and scrapes; the only piece of equipment to accompany him from the first day of his service to his last, through countless battles and adventures. A beautiful dagger sat along the back of his belt, a rondel seldom used as it was a gift from long ago. While in ceremony he was a sight to behold, donning the crisp dress uniform of his regiment, the left side of chest laden with medals for bravery, while 20-odd campaign pins neatly lined the right.

All of these are now gone. Now, he is hard pressed for clean clothing, the rags covering his body dirty and torn, stained with alcohol and blood. He looks a husk of the man he once was, with not a piece of the proud arms and armor still in his possession, everything stolen or sold to fuel his addiction.


Bhaldorn was born to a poor peasant family in the Duchy of Westridge shortly after the end of the Second War. He is the 2nd eldest of five children, whose father was a veteran of many wars, and mother a local baker. The family lived in a small hut a few miles west of Mirwood.


Bhaldorn's earliest years were hardly eventful. He was raised well by his parents, who adopted a carrot-and-stick method of raising their children. Along with his older brother Evander, Bhaldorn had to help raise his younger siblings; 3 more came after he was born. Bhaldorn forged the strongest bond with his younger siblings Devon and Claudia, often caring for them while Evander cared for Dashiell. Throughout his childhood, Bhaldorn showed incredible athletic promise, and due to such his father began training him at the age of 6 in martial combat --with hand and blade-- and enrolling him in the Westridge Chevrons Marmotball Club. As peasant children tend to take on jobs at young ages, Bhaldorn became a fisherman and gardener at the age of 13.

Teenage Years Edit

Bhaldorn was put into a senior-grammar school at the age of 14. Having no particular skill or affinity for academics, the young man focused mostly on sports. Hoping to have a more interesting career as opposed to gardening and such, Bhaldorn joined many of his county's teams and showed exceptional athletic ability in his endeavors. With such, Bhaldorn participated in many provincial, even national, athletic tournaments. He began to build a reputation for his skills in the 100m sprint, various swimming styles, unarmed combat, and most of all marmotball. Eventually, Bhaldorn was given the captaincy of the teams he represented, expressing leadership qualities along with his prowess.

Once finished with his educational career, Bhaldorn hadn't the money or academic intelligence to get himself into higher levels of education. Instead, he was brought onto the Westridge Chevrons senior team while simultaneously working gardens and catching fish. With the former he managed to get employed by noblemen and women seeking to beautify their lands and manors. This paid well but on numerous occasions he was caught sleeping with their daughters, enticing them with his good looks, muscular build, and flirtatious mannerisms. Needless to say, the fathers were less than pleased at the thought of bastard grand-children of half peasant blood. Thus, his reputation as a gardener was ruined. He became a tenant farmer, often crossing into Westfall and tending the border farms, as well as focusing on fishing when the seasons called for it.

With no desire to stay a dirt poor farmer and fisherman for his life, and with a marmotball career paying next to nothing, Bhaldorn was in a rut. While returning home from Westfall shortly after his 18th birthday, Bhaldorn watched the famous First Regiment of the Elwynn Brigade march past. Everyone in Westridge, perhaps the kingdom, had heard of the First Regiment and its exploits, and as a patriot of Stormwind, and seeing his father in the soldiers before him, Bhaldorn felt the need to serve his kingdom, and signed himself up for service the very next day, much to the dismay of his mother; who didn't want another man of her family in the service, and father; who was serving the kingdom and preparing for the invasions of Northrend.

Young Adulthood & Military ServiceEdit

All of Bhaldorn's young adult life was spent in the military. He began basic training the day after signing up, learning how to march, drill, move in formations-- the tedium. They did physical tests in all of which Bhaldorn excelled, breaking many records and impressing his instructors with his strength, speed, and overall athleticism. Then came infantry training, where Bhaldorn learned how to wear and fight in armor, fight in formation, and work as a team with his fellow recruits, where Bhaldorn would often be placed in leadership roles during war games and the like. Their training took a little under a year to complete, and Bhaldorn came out of it as a fully functioning footman.

A few days before his graduation from training, where he would be given the rank of private and join a unit, his father perished. He had been serving in Icecrown and had requested leave to return home and watch his son join the ranks with pride. Hours after sending in his request, he went off on patrol of the frozen wasteland and never returned, nor did a single member of his platoon of 30 rangers. It took months for this information to return to Westridge, and Bhaldorn was informed minutes before his ceremony, a military courier delivering him a letter detailing the status of his father from his superior. This set a fire in Bhaldorn's heart that wouldn't be put out for many years, and with a new determination to take up the mantle from his father, he took his oath of service and was ranked as a private. He chose to join the regiment which inspired him, becoming a footman in the First Regiment and serving under Lord Maxen Montclair.

(WIP (AKA too much damn history here, most of which I don't remember clearly so that's that, I'm afraid))


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