Rohan Orcslayer

Rifleman 'Mel' Blastbrew

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Full Name: Melvin Blastbrew (But, never call him Melvin).

Nicknames: Mel.

Date of Birth: Unknown.

Age: Also unknown.

Race: Dwarf.

Gender: Male.

Hair: What little there is left is flaming red.

Skin: Burnt and scarred in many places.

Eyes: Crazy.

Height: Stout.

Weight: Stout.

Place of residence: Any pub, really.

Place of Birth: A pub or an armory.

Known Relatives: His mother is assumed to be a yeti.

Religion/Philosophy: Beards, Blood, Booze and Thunder!... Oh, and guns!

Occupation: Rifleman.

Enemies: Anyone who stands between him and his pint.

Likes: Beer, meat, pies, guns, gunpowder and women.

Favorite Foods: Meat and pies.

Favorite Drinks: Beer, ye ninny!

Weapons of Choice: His rifle fitted with an axe bayonet.

Dislikes: Ninnies, nancy-boys, and other worthless sods.

Hobbies: Drinking.

Physical Features: He's a dwarf.

Misc. Quirks: Being drunk and telling when 'clamity' is about to happen.

Played by What Famous Person: Brian Blessed.

Theme Songs: I was listening to Nickelback's "Burn it to the ground" if that counts.

History: Melvin Blastbrew (So named because of his family's time-honored tradiction of brewing beer with blasting powder, a recipe that is covented the world over by no one.) was a Rifleman in the Regiment sent to aid Lord Garithos in reclaiming Lordaeron ("They don't pay us enough to put up with that asshole."). When Sylvanas betrayed the Alliance, Blastbrew and the rest of his platoon were set upon by the wretched Forsaken. Melvin was the only survivor of that murdered platoon.

Finding himself alone in the wilderness of the Alterac Mountains (how he managed to travel that far still remains a mystery) and, of course, he went insane. Mel began talking to himself, which was pretty fine, they both had the same exact interests. However, paranoia set in, and Blasty and Blasty's mistrust for one another escallated intill finally, Blasty decided to rid himself of Blasty by shooting him(self) in the head.

Surviving due to his own literal thick-headedness, Blasty found himself alone again, the bullet hitting his brain in such a way to rid himself of the illusion. Lonely, Blasty sook out companionship, eventually coming across it in the form of a big, black bear being captured by orcs of the Frostwolf Clan. Blasty made short work of the orcs (Which may or may not of caused Alterac Valley to turn into a warfield) with bullets and various traps and soon freed and befriended the bear which he would at a later time name "Stock" (So named because he carried Blasty's stock of ale).

Not long after, Blastbrew and his new ursin companion left the wilderness of Alterac, becoming Mercenaries (Or 'Heros' as they're called, nowadays) and traveling the world in search of action, money, and women! (Stock being much more successful than Blasty in that department, but that's a story for a more adult thread.)

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Seen him last night out in front of silvermoon, A brave hunter truely do respect that. And what a sport! this one has quite the life in him!!!

Hoping to see him around more often!

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A disgusted grunt can be heard. "Annoying, sexist, short, doesn't know what's appropriate and what's not... but, he's not so bad. I guess I've just got a soft spot for the crazies."

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Sifar rolls her eyes when asked. "I've heard his name be Mel, but I prefer te call him Blast. It jus' seems so much more appropriate. 'Blast, leave tha' lass alone.' or "Blast, keep control o' yer pet.' Add a touch o' crazy and I'd say he be yer typical lad. Even more forward than Dark be."

Turning to walk away, she surreptitiously covers her backside while muttering, "Cut a diamond on me arse...now really...."

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Turning to walk away, she surreptitiously covers her backside while muttering, "Cut a diamond on me arse...now really...."

"No no no no! Th' lassy got me all wrong! I said I can MAKE a diamond with her arse! Oh aye!"

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"No no no no! Th' lassy got me all wrong! I said I can MAKE a diamond with her arse! Oh aye!"

"Be yeh sayin' tha' I could squeeze so hard.... Ach, like yeh'd love te know, lad."

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"The little dwarf? Oh yes, I have seen him around a number of times." Bellsa tilts her head thoughtfully for a moment as she considers how to describe him and grins. "He certainly is...lively."

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The lady smiles graciously at the goblin reporter; her husband simply watches the goblin, his expression unchanging. "Oh, yes. Mel Blastbrew. Yes, we've met him a couple times now.

"The first time was Saturday night. He just generally acted like a drunken ass, but the truth was, I was trying to have conversations with our son and his sweetheart. Some people kept trying to interrupt us, and then, out of nowhere, here comes this mad little dwarf who manages to get everyone's attention--so the conversations got finished.

"Then last night, at Jaster and Viviene's wedding. There was this Kerahlist who had the audacity to be mind-controlling a death knight right in the middle of the wedding; kept having her pass out and mutter strange phrases. Then, suddenly, here comes the crazy drunken dwarf, who immediately zeroes in on the Kerahlist and harasses her until she turns tail and runs. Twice."

Lady Tiraline shakes her head. "He's something of a hero unawares, when you get right down to it. At least, he's helped us a couple times now."

Sir Issachar nods faintly. "He respects when a woman's spoken for, too. Paid my wife a compliment. Left Cytiana alone when he understood she's taken."

"Yes. While he wouldn't fit in with our order, I can't say that we don't--well, gosh, he's just funny."

((Note: Both times, he made Issachar laugh IRL. That is almost impossible. Congratulations.

((ETA: You're too crazy, bud. You really are. Super-absorbent beard??? *dies laughing*))

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Lady Tiraline narrowed her eyes. "What, AGAIN?

"Very well. Blastbrew is not welcome in our life. He tried to kill Cytiana when she wouldn't put up with his advances anymore. He is a shame to his noble race and a waste of the air he breathes.

"Clear enough?"

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Nodding to the reporters question, Cytiana seems to hesitate before remarking, "..You know, if you'd asked me a month ago, I would have told you he was a no good harassing man. But.." She trails off, thinking for a moment.

Glancing at the reporter, she frowns lightly in thought, "Something with him changed, and it's probably for the better. He's still rough around the edges- but it gives him character, in a humorous way. I mean.. it's better than the crude way." She smiles, nodding to the reporter.

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I would relieve his shoulders of his head... if only he stood a few feet higher off the ground.

((You would die before the stroke fell! *points wand at Swerto's head in exaggeratedly heroic pose*))

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"Blasty?"

*looks behind over her shoulder and down out of habit*

"Awwww, jest let 'em stare at yer bum already! Everyone needs themselves a hobby... if 'e gets to pinchy threaten ta tell Stockon 'em."

*takes another swig of melon juice*

"'es also got a good eye fer fashion... if ya can belive it!"

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If all dwarves were like him, I would have no problem with keeping them all in a farm instead of just killing their whole kind.

Has good taste too.

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