"Ok", I said, and below is the backstory for my chosen character, Krom Groinsmasher, Dwarf Warrior!
D&D DWARF CHAR:
FIRST NAME:
Krom
CLAN NAME:
Groinsmasher
FLUFF:
Krom Groinsmasher, youngest son of Kogi, was just like any other young Dwarf; proud, stubborn, eager to learn and perfect the jealously guarded crafts of his people – mining, blacksmithing and the brewing of fine, incredibly powerful ales.
Krom’s father, Kogi, was the master brewer for the Karak Stronghold. His unique recipe for Kogi’s Special Brew is counted amongst the greatest treasures in the Karak Stronghold’s vast vaults and is never shared with non-Dwarf folk (it’s just too good).
From a young age, Krom showed an aptitude for two things; the brewing of ale and skill with the axe, oft bettering much older, more experienced Dwarfs at both.
Krom’s first taste of battle and glory came when searching outside Karak for the ingredients needed for his own secret recipe of ale. A raiding party of Orcs found him alone in a forest glade and set about him immediately. Filled with hate for the greenskin, Krom hefted his trusty axe and shield and charged the mob. For what seemed like an age, Krom was casually dispatching each Orc that came at him with expertly timed blows from his axe, or the steel-reinforced rim of his shield. Eventually the mob thinned out enough that Krom could see past them. Watching him with a malevolent interest was a massive Orc, casually wielding a huge warhammer resting over one shoulder. Krom charged the beast, ducking out of the path of the warhammer and in the same, fluid motion that brought Krom to his feet, cut the left leg of the Orc clean off at the ankle. The massive creature barely managed half a scream before Krom’s axe bit deep into its scalp, ending the Orc’s life instantly.
The sounds of battle carried through the forest and were heard by a party of Karak Dwarfs, returning from a trading run to a trusted ally. The Dwarfs, led by Fraka Ironbeard of the High King’s Honour Guard, raced to the source of the noise.
Scant moments before arriving at the glade, the sounds of battle ceased and only an eerie echo remained. Advancing cautiously into the glade, the Dwarfs were met with a gruesome scene. The ruined corpses of close to three-score Orcs lay strewn all around the glade, their putrid blood stained the forest floor and already starting to collect into streams, draining away out of sight. At the far edge of the glade, a lone figure could just be seen bent down on one knee. Fraka and his company cautiously advanced towards the individual until they could see it was a Dwarf, covered in Orc blood, stooped over a bush collecting strange looking berries.
Upon returning to Karak at Fraka’s request, the High King laid a feast in honour of Krom’s amazing victory – even breaking out his own store of Kogi’s Special Brew to celebrate with. For a Dwarf so young, barely 60, to accomplish what the best of the King’s guard would surely struggle with, was seen by some of the older Dwarfs as a sign of the power of Karak returning.
At the end of the feast, Krom was gifted the mighty war axe, [Gimli’s Folly]. An ancient and powerful weapon as finely balanced as it was deadly - inscribed with powerful runes created with knowledge now lost to the Dwarf race.
Krom served with the High King’s Honour Guard for sixty years, further honing his deadly craft with axe and shield in battles both great and terrible, earning more and more honour for him and his clan and Krom was satisfied, for a while.
Eventually, on his 125th birthday, Krom wished for something more. After quietly spoken words with the High King, Krom resigned his position in the honour guard and left the stronghold that very same night.
Taking only what he could carry, he set off into the wilderness and after many weeks travelling came across a picturesque valley and found a small, quiet Human village of welcoming folk. After feasting and drinking with the locals, Krom decided here would be a good place to stay, at least for now. As the local ale was dreadful Krom figured he would give them a taste of quality Dwarf ale and started to build a tavern on the edge of town.
For five years, Krom ran the Trowel and Hammer tavern, a respectable multi-racial establishment with a reputation for the finest cask ale for hundreds of miles around. As the reputation of the tavern grew, more and more people came to enjoy the brew and the town had doubled in size within a few scant years and all was well.
After the fifth year, travellers coming to the tavern made whispered reference to a darkness gathering away to the west but were dismissed as drunk, or just mad.
One fateful night some months later, those travellers were to be proven correct, as a massive horde of goblins from the mountains far to the west under the command of the Goblin King Bakstabba came and swept through the peaceful valley laying waste to everything in their path.
The village was taken completely by surprise. The guards posted around the village were caught off-guard and taken away by the goblins, their fate best left un-guessed. Homes were put to the torch and the villagers slaughtered in droves.
The Trowel and Hammer was the last building left standing. Designed and constructed by a Dwarf it would take more than a bit of fire and a few arrows to damage it. For almost six hours, Krom and the few remaining souls in the tavern held off the rampaging horde. One by one, the others died. Soon only Krom remained standing, defiant.
Eventually, even Krom’s hardy, Dwarf constitution began to fail and he could feel himself growing more and more exhausted with every passing moment.
Just as Krom was about to fall, a might crack split the air as a crude, Goblin warmachine hit a support beam with a giant, flung boulder and the tavern collapsed around him.
Dwarfs are natural miners and tunnellers and are used to spending time underneath the world, searching for precious seams of minerals and gems. They cope better than all the other races of the world in such conditions – just as well from Krom, who awoke some hours later, covered in the smouldering remains of the Trowel and Hammer.
After prying himself free of the wreckage, all that awaited Krom was devastation and ruin; the entire town was a burning mess, and not a single other soul had survived the attack.
Krom gathered the corpses of his once friends and neighbours together and burned them on a pyre, as was the local custom. After saying words of prayer and placation to the Gods, Krom gathered his weapons and set off once more into the world, determined to have his vengeance.
Too much? :)
