Raised in the cave city of Kal’Varoth. Dun'reir was always comfortable in two places. The forge of his mother and its bright warm fires that lit up the cavern walls and the sweet smell of molten iron that clung to the clothing and the temples of the maker Yemekar. As a young beardling he yearned for the day that he could step out and and forge his own stories in the name of the maker. With time and patience he trained and prepared himself for the adventures he so long dreamed about going on. Forging his own armor in his mothers forge and stitching together a symbol of the maker to keep on him he finally felt ready. Now only a slightly older beardling to his people. He might have his own chance to fight for the makers light in the lands around Kal’Varoth as well as forge a few of his own tails to tell.

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