Daswalross66

You’ve just arrived in a swampy, dim town. As you look around, your gaze is met with shacks and cabins. It smells of rotted wood and wet moss. You duck and step into a tattered tent, illuminated by a series of candles suspended in the air. At the back of the tent, an old hag raises her head, “What brings you to this dingy town? she begins, then pauses to study your face—”Ah, it’s you. I’ve been expecting you. Sit,” she gestures at a cushion, “Tell me your story.”

((How do you respond?))

My name is Dunir, son of Lothar. I come from simple stalk. My father was a miner, like most of our kind. I grew up swinging the pick and wrestling precious stones and metals from the bosom of the mountain we called home. We served under a dwarven lord named Avur Blackhill. He was a stubborn and loathsome lord to serve. I grew into the proud dwarf you see before you under his rule. All that was expected of us was to wake up each day when the sun would peak through the shafts carved high into the ceilings of our mines, and harvest the wealth found deep within the mountain. We grew tired while Avur grew rich.

Over the years I grew to resent Avur. Not for his greed, not for his disdain for the serfs mining the mountain his family had claimed for generations, no...I grew to resent Avur for his short shortsightedness. He sat on the riches we produced, but did nothing with these riches. Like many dwarven lords he traded with his own kind, but I knew there were far greater riches to be had just waiting to be seized. Why shouldn't we trade with the others just outside our borders. We collect these fantastic ores and stones that even the elves pine to possess. Why aren't we exploiting their desire for our treasures to further enrich ourselves. I requested many an audience with Avur to request his permission to set up a trading post to sell our minerals and wares, but he refused. "No dwarf who calls my great mountain home shall taint its gifts by placing them in the hands of unworthy races!". I left these audiences with Avur enraged. My father pleaded with me not to further incur the wrath of our lord less he visit his wrath on our family. I did not listen to my father's counsel. I too wanted riches like Avur had, but knew I would never become a mountain lord.

I disobeyed Avur's wishes. In the middle of the night I broke into the forge. Like many dwarven forges this forge was filled with many fine hand crafted wares. Bracelets made of gold wrapped with silver made to look like a vine of ivy, rings beset with gems of great value like rubies and sapphires that glistened like dragon's fire, and weapons so strong it was said you could chop iron in-twain with them. Truly there was never a finer smith to walk this world than the smiths the dwarves produced. I stole what I could carry in my rucksack, and left our mountain. A small village of men was nestled in the shadow of our mountain. Avur hated these men, but could not push them from, what he claimed, was his land. I planned to take my wares to their market, and sell them to these men of the valley. Surely, they would give whatever they possessed to claim a small piece of what we had made from the gifts of our mountain.

I walked down the road in the twilight hours of the night. In the distance I could hear the rowdy voices of these men in their taverns, and see the dim lights of their lanterns hung from street posts. However, before I could reach the village I was ambushed by bandits. I fought them off for as long as I could, but I was overpowered. We dwarves are strong, but even dwarves are crushed by the stones in a landslide. These degenerates stole my rucksack, and all the treasures I had been able to carry with me. Instead of returning home with great wealth to show Avur I was returning home battered and bruised with the labors of my people stripped from me. I returned with nothing.

Avur learned of my deception very quickly. He did not seek reparations on my family, as my father had feared, but only on me. I was banished from my home. Avur forced me from my home with what I had returned with. Nothing. I looked back at my home as they slowly closed the great gates. I was felt with dread at first, but I soon realized that this was a great opportunity. I was free of Avur and his xenophobia. I could now pursue my goals and dreams of creating a prosperous dwarven trading company. I heard of the great dwarven kingdom of Urguan. I plan to settle in this great kingdom, and hope I can find patronage for my trading company. I know the great kingdom of Urguan has taxes on selling to those outside the dwarven race, but that is a far more open approach than that of Avur.

That is my story. I am Dunir son of Lothar, and I will become richer than that narrow minded fool Avur. One day I will become so wealthy I will buy his mountain from right underneath him.