Magdalyn Caern

General Overview

 * Full Name: Magdalyn Caern
 * Profession: Fighter-for-Hire, Brawler
 * Strengths: Endurance, Persistence, Loyalty
 * Weaknesses: Rage Issues, Lozora
 * Sexuality: Bisexual

Appearance
Mag is an olive-skinned woman of medium height and muscular build, with one steely left blue eye on a squarish face. Her right one is missing, and she wears a leather strap over the withered scar that was her lid. Her hair is dark and shaggy, falling just short of shoulder length. If you get close enough, her breath is always a bit stale with the scent of rum. Her clothes smell like fire and minerals.

Armor and Clothing
Her armor is a ragtag assembly of sturdy leather and mail pieces, wearing what she can use for a balance of defense and mobility with little concern about her appearance. It's easy to mistake her for a bandit.

Her plainclothes; a cotton shirt smeared by grease and soot, careworn leather leggings and a vest tied at the waist with a dirty red scarf, which goes about her head when she's working in the forge. Her nose has the shape of one that's been broken more than once.

Notable Features
Her right arm bears an elaborate sleeve tattoo: a skeletal knight in Stormwind armor, bound in a twisting grey fog.

Personality
She is slow to trust, and quick to anger, but she half-asses neither of them once you've earned them. She deals with feelings by being sarcastic. She deals with more complex feelings by drinking and picking fights that she might lose. She likes to act laid back and collected in front of others, but deep down there is a fury that she can't cool, and it always needs an outlet.

Childhood
Her father died shortly before she was born, and Latia, born and raised in a small hamlet in Brightwood, married again to a traveling ale merchant when Mag was four. She doesn't remember much about either of them. When she was nine, the kingdom of Stormwind fell piece by piece. She lost her mother and her right eye, and ultimately ended up in an orphanage in Lordaeron after being swept up in the wave of those fleeing Stormwind.

She was a difficult child prone to silence and sulking, but she did manage to form a fond, unlikely friendship with another orphan named Lozora. Lozora had lost her parents to illness and had been placed in the kingdom's care years before. She was gentle and kind, and a good reader--everything Mag wasn't.

But when was fourteen, she was turned over to the city guard and put in prison after an incident where she beat a recently hired orphanage worker to within an inch of his life. Mag never saw Lozora again, but the warden that supervised her cell block saw a glint of merit in the troubled girl and took pity.

Mag enlisted with the warden’s help into the petty guard and got assigned a night patrol on the roads of Eastweald, training under an old, semi-retired First War vet named Victor Rasgard. Skeptical of the sullen youth passed off on him, he kept her exhausted with menial work like shoveling their horse shit off the road and running messages on foot back and forth between the towns they patrolled between. One night, she was late in returning to her post. Rasgard went looking, expecting to find she had deserted, and instead found her laid out on the ground a half mile outside of Andorhal, being tended to by a couple while their children hid in their cart. The family had been traveling into town when four highwaymen ambushed them after posing as guards, and Mag intervened on her own. She had been able to bring down three of them before the last fled into the woods and she finally collapsed. He was found in the morning, arrested with severe injuries.

The veteran was impressed. Perhaps something could be done with her after all.

Adulthood
In the years that followed, Rasgard taught her what he could with what energy he had left. When he finally retired from the watch and opened up his long coveted tavern in Stratholme, he brought her with him as his protégé and bar muscle. With her talents and his recommendation, he knew she could enter the military with a clear path to becoming an officer. He had high hopes for Mag, but the increasing pressure he put on her to become a soldier caused tension between them, as she was far less sure about her future or the direction she wanted it to take. She had no love for the military or authority—only for fighting, only for taking her anger out on the people who deserved it. Finally, that tension snapped during an argument, and she stormed out to pick up a new ale shipment from Andorhal because it had not come in with the most recent shipment of goods.

After cooling off on the road, she regretted the fight, but not nearly as much as she soon would. By the time she realized what was happening and hurried back to the city, it was already too late. Across the bridge, Stratholme was already burning. Rasgard was already dead.

Mag narrowly escaped the Plague's spread and the bloody chaos that consumed Lordaeron upon Arthas' return and betrayal, initially as part of a small group of men, women and children of which she was the most competent fighter.

But she separated from them one night in Silverpine after chasing after what she could have sworn was Lozora's voice calling out in the forest. She not only failed to find her, but returned to find their camp in ruins and not a living soul remaining.

She continued south alone.

Trivia
She loves dogs, dwarven alcohol, and fixing broken toys.