Kheldul Obërgraff is an old dwarf who has seen more than his fair share of the beauty and cruelty of Azeroth. He picked up his gun late in life and became proficient with it only five years ago. In his dark time before that, he was commissioned as a scout under the banner of Bronzebeard. He was not lonely, nor did he seek the company of others. He maintained the path, alerted caravans of dangers, and was watchful. After two decades of this service, he traded his hatchet and crossbow for a rifle and ironically put his darker thoughts behind him. He opened himself up to true camaraderie.
Kheldul had a wife many years ago at the beginning of the Great War. She was killed when he was supporting the war effort in the mines. His entire defenseless homestead was massacred. He now firmly believes in the unfair fight to any aggressor.
He was brought up living the life of stonework and metalwork north of the Redridge Mountains. He knows the ways of mining and forging well, but abandoned the life of his father. This of course was no simple rebellion but was quite literally a breathe of fresh air. Unlike others of his race, he can keep his bearings better above ground than below.
Kheldul maintains his gear. It is well-oiled. It is not shiny, but no one would call his kit unclean. He is always ready to leave and calls no one place home.
Kheldul puts his whole being into what he sets out to do. If he sets a goal he surpasses it or so help him would die trying. He doesn't look back and lives in the moment. Yet, he maintains a display case of old rifles in Ironforge. On the inside stock of each rifle are the names of those enemies to civilization he has slain.
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