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Humble Beginnings

Page history last edited by Jon Goranson 3 years, 7 months ago

Born from a simple family of miners, my mother and my father were married a short time before I came along with my twin brother, Cativo. My father, Drugan, and my mother, Lestia, lived near Everlund and were tragically killed by a cave-in when my brother and I were around 2. We were raised in the Orphanage of Moradin.

I always needed less attention than Cativo. He was happy for attention while I tried to avoid it. Even though there were other dwarves, Cativo and I mainly stuck together and I didn’t have many other friends. When we were around 9, Cativo was adopted and moved away with his new family. He said he would write but I never heard from him again.

When I was 19, I got mixed up with a band of 3 adventurers as they were looking for another member to loot some old barrows. I tagged along with the leader, Morkin, along with his lackeys, brothers Fundal and Mindal. We made it to the highlands just outside of town when we were attacked by a trio of wandering kobolds. We managed to take down 2 before Morkin and the brothers fell. I was faced with the last bloodied kobold. I was backing away when I tripped over a root sticking up. As the kobold charged, I raised my sword, closed my eyes and prayed, waiting for the end. After what seemed like a lifetime, I finally opened my eyes and saw the dead kobold at my feet. My sword impaled in it’s chest. That's when I heard the voice in my head. It was the most strong, commanding voice I have ever heard. The voice simply said, "I have need for you!" Somehow, I knew it was the voice of Moradin. From that point on, I dedicated myself to his teachings.

I would study his writings, listen to sermons at the Temple and read anything I could of the great Hammers of Moradin. Some days I would "practice" in the open fields and dream of becoming one of the Great Hammers. It was more of just a fancy and daydreaming of a youth with too much time and too little knowledge of the world around him. Many more years passed. After I exhausted the tomes in the library and the patience of the other acolytes, I became impatient. I would ask the Temple Elder, Sirvio Rothless, to let me become a full acolyte and help spread the word of Moradin. He refused. Over and over he refused. He would tell me, "You have much to learn yet." or "You're not ready." or he would just dismiss me altogether.

On the year of my 47th birthday, Sirvio passed to the Halls of Moradin. I was devastated. He was the closest thing I have, had, of a father in my life. He read me my first scripture. He gave me my first book, The Book of the Hammers. I owed him everything. With nothing to stop me now, I was determined to make him proud. The next morning I packed all I owned, which wasn't much, strapped my warhammer to my belt and headed towards Rauvencross to catch the next caravan to Sundabar. As I was about to leave the temple, I went back to Sirvio's chamber and grabbed the shield off the wall and strapped it across my back. I WILL make you proud, I whispered to the air.

On to Sundabar to spread The Word.

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