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| - Born of the Silvershield Clan of Thelsamar, Tiergan was the youngest of five brothers. During much of his childhood, he learned the ways of mining as any good member of the clan, as he and his brothers assisted their father in gathering materials for the armors made for the militia. Eventually, he picked up the hammer and began to learn the craft of working those metals into the plate favored by the dwarves. He learned the craft at a quicker pace then his brothers, however, since he often gathered more metal than they did (given that he loved spending time in the mountains). He eventually came to crafting fine enough works that, when the First War struck, the Silvershield Clan helped with sending armors down to the Stormwind Army, while keeping the Militia's own armors in fine repair.
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| abstract
| - Born of the Silvershield Clan of Thelsamar, Tiergan was the youngest of five brothers. During much of his childhood, he learned the ways of mining as any good member of the clan, as he and his brothers assisted their father in gathering materials for the armors made for the militia. Eventually, he picked up the hammer and began to learn the craft of working those metals into the plate favored by the dwarves. He learned the craft at a quicker pace then his brothers, however, since he often gathered more metal than they did (given that he loved spending time in the mountains). He eventually came to crafting fine enough works that, when the First War struck, the Silvershield Clan helped with sending armors down to the Stormwind Army, while keeping the Militia's own armors in fine repair. Though the Khaz never formally entered into war against the Orcs in the First War, that did not stop them from invading the Khaz as the humans of Stormwind retreated to Lordaeron. Pushed into Blackrock Mountain as they were, they swept up through Loch Modon with ferocity. Tiergan's father, fearing the worst, sent Tiergan into the bitter reaches of the mountains to await the end of the invasion. However, as he watched from the cabin in the high peaks between the Loch and Dun Morogh, the smoke of fires rose ever higher. Thelsamar had been razed to the ground. After the smoke cleared and the fires extinguished, he made his way down from the mountains to discover the fate of his kin. Some of the Militia, already there, informed him that the town had all but been lost. Most of those that had tried to protect it, had perished in the onslaught, including his kin. In his grief, he hurried what supplies he could, and retreated back into the mountains, isolating himself from everything. For 15 years, he lived off the land, venturig down far enough to hunt the few animals that would wander up the mountain passes. After a time, during one such hunt, word reached him that a Third War had come and gone, nearly destroying the world. Even more, the Horde and Alliance had banded together... the orcs not the enemy they had once seemed, but mere puppets of a darker force. A flurry of emotion set in, ranging from shock, to utter disbelief. Eventually, understanding kicked in. Understanding that no one was safe, no matter how far they lived away from anything. It was enough to kick him from his stupor, and get him into action. As he heard, the call for those of able body and mind were to meet at Anvilmar, to begin their training. Fashioning himself a simple shield, and some basic armor, he set down the pass and headed to meet his destiny head on. To rebuild his clan. To make a difference.
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![[RDF Data]](/fct/images/sw-rdf-blue.png)