Name: Thorgall Travelgus Steelforge, renamed later to Steelmountain
Title: Iron Axeman of Solemn Spirits.
Age: 199 years
Eye color (in RP): A light yellow.
Hair color (in RP): Tannish
Height: 4'80
Weight: 115 kg
Appearance: Thorgall is larger and more muscled than his brethren. His face and body are horribly scarred and his left eye is closed due to an injury from a dark magic wound. His back is tattooed with three dwarven runes, depicting 'Wisdom', 'Valor' and 'Honor'. His armor is usually limited to two giant skull pauldrons, blackened plate leggings, black plate boots and black plate wrists. His chest remains bare. His hair is tied in a small ponytail and he has a short, well trimmed beard.
Weapon: Gar'Draig, meaning "Giant Dragon" in Dwarven. It is a large dual bladed axe with two silver serpent dragons layering the hilt. The large blades themselves are jagged.
Personality: Thorgall is usually calm and collected. He sees and declares everything in a sense of spirituality, but is certainly not afraid of battle. His old age has earned him experiences untold and he enjoys watching the youngsters grow. He hates crowded places and would rather seek out the snow covered mountains of Khaz Modan or the stale peaks of the Aerie to meditate on his reasons for life and fighting. He values honor above all.

History:
Childhood:
Thorgall was born to the smithy Borgon and the fearless huntress Chiselga and is a proud son of Ironforge. He would spend hours watching his father work the forges and make the impressive of things, ranging from figurines of precious metals to dangerous blades and intimidating armor. At the age of 23, he would join his mother on the hunts in the mountains, chasing the elusive rams. To both his parent's surprise, the youngling's strength was something out of the ordinary. He could lift a solid block of steel, crush boulders and snap the neck of a mountain bear who were far larger than he was. They encouraged him to use his strength for the sake of the Dwarven race and enlist in the army. Instead, Thorgall only wished to become a great smithy like his father was. The will of Borgon and Chiselga came true and a lot faster than any of them had anticipated. The War of the Three Hammers had begun.

A Son of War:
Thorgall had little choice. He was enlisted in the army the moment he became a man and was given a worn hammer. The moment the lad was thrown in combat, the beast inside him was unleashed. A strange hunger for blood engulfed him and with that single hammer, he charged fearlessly into the hordes of the Dark Iron. He plowed around and about and before even he or his regiment had a chance to stop him, fifty lay dead at his feet. Thorgall did not escape unscathed. Dozen of wounds began to open on his body and his strength was ebbing away. His achievement defending the Southern Outpost to the present Loch Modan were forgotten. He remained in the army and became briefly renown for his superior strength. When Ironforge had prevailed so many years later, Thorgall had found love with a beautiful merchant's daughter, Ishelsa Boulderhammer. This happy union would last only briefly. Five decades later, the Second War had begun.

When the Second War had begun, Thorgall had been blessed with two sons, Baen and Thorgov and while Ishelsa wished for him to remain within the confines of the city, the drums of war were ringing in his ears. Thorgall left his family behind and re-enlisted in the army, becoming a Sergeant in the Alliance Army's fourteenth gunnery regiment. He was sent to the ancestral home of the Wildhammers, now known as the Wetlands, to battle the Dragonmaw and their armies of red dragons. His new opponents, the orcs, were fierce and it was through repeatedly crossing blades that the Dwarf began to understand that his home was not in the mountains, but on the bloody battlefield. Facing off against more and more of the green brutes, the warrior had not anticipated that they were in possession of a weapon far more dangerous than an axe or sword. Thorgall had his first encounter with dark magic and it would sear him until his death take him. A warlock had cast a powerful curse upon the Sergeant and while he slew him by exerting pure will power, the warrior knew he could not survive its awesome effect. He had fallen to his knees and screamed brutal agony. He wanted to give that warlock the same treatment he had been given himself, but his quick handling ensured his own execution had been delayed if ever so briefly. This would, however, not be the end of him. A band of hill Dwarves that passed had found him and tended to his wounds. The curse was impossible to have been lifted entirely, causing the loss of his left eye. Thorgall had thanked them for their intervention and while his saviors had only done what they did due to their heritage, they were relieved to see him leave soon. The warrior himself knew all to well why. The hill dwarves had not forgotten their loss of the Ironforge clan. Thorgall's struggle in the Second War came to a close when the Demon Soul had been destroyed and Khaz Modan was retaken.

His rest did not last long, for the Third War was upon them ever so quick. This time, he was in charge of one of the many regiments that protected Khaz Modan from an eventual assault of the Undead from the north. Such an attack never came and before long, the warrior had resigned his position and simply vanished. He had taken a ship to the west, to Kalimdor on a small pilgrimage. To the mountain Dwarf, his reason for fighting was waning and horrid visions of his slain enemies were now haunting him. Regret had sunk deep in his heart. He had begun the life of a recluse in Tanaris, but even this simple life was not enough. His warrior blood had begun pumping again and the warhorn that would signal the march rung deep in his ears. The Dwarf departed for Lordaeron. Upon his arrival, he was assigned into a regiment that served under the racist Garithos, but nevertheless, he did his part. His battle with the undead soothed his horrible feelings and even gave him a sense of calmness, as if he had returned home after so long. When he was informed that Garithos had been slain by the Dark Lady, he too fled to the south with whatever was left of the ravaged Alliance army.

Aftermath:
With the Third War over, Thorgall was losing his sense of purpose. Minor fighting tournaments did not provide the satisfaction of killing and neither did a simple hunt. Feeling that insanity was imminent, he traveled to Kalimdor. Upon the soil of the untamed lands, he aimlessly traveled from the familiar sight of Tanaris, to the savage wilds of Feralas to the wide plains of Mulgore. It was here that his life took a drastic change. During his long, winding track, he stumbled upon a traveling Tauren shaman. Preparing himself for battle as he normally would, he was surprised that the shaman showed no signs of hostility. Instead and to the Dwarf's surprise, he spoke in perfect understandable tongue that he meant no harm. The shaman, called Razuul Spiritwind told him that the spirits had foreseen their meeting and that he could help. Cautiously, the Dwarf came closer and before he could even utter a threat, the shaman spoke the words the warrior had simply wanted to hear: "I can help you".

Spending roughly three years with the tauren, hiding himself from the now unified Horde as well as keeping his new found comrade hidden from Alliance patrols, Thorgall had been endowed in spiritualism and Razuul had taught him a way to deal with his hunger for battle. The Dwarf felt himself renewed and after a rather a rough goodbye, they parted ways. Thorgall returned to the Eastern Kingdoms and tattooed the words that meant the most to him on his back. His spiritualism in battle remains a rare trait under his brethren and very few dare to even try to understand. Thorgall believes in only one thing: the Spirit of the Mountain.

A Warrior of the Aerie:
Upon entering the Hinterlands, Thorgall remained at Aerie Peak for a brief rest before continuing his journey towards the Plaguelands to aid the Argent Dawn. He quickly became acquainted with the hill dwarves. He pledged his allegiance to their brave Thane, but refused to stay at the Peak. Thorgall promised to come to their aid, should the need ever arise.



((Yep a long wall of text, but its my character By the way, the small comradeship between a Dwarf and a Tauren IS possible. There is plenty of evidence in the Lore as well as in game to prove that it is possible. And btw, my character isn't a shaman either, he simply views the world through spiritualism instead of his previous "Kill or be killed" view.))