WetPasta

My name is Volkmar Riser. I may be old now but trust me I can still beat the living daylights out of you and all the other youngins. I was a nice guy before everything turned south in the War of The Three Beards. I was a paladin for the Kingdom of Kaz'Ulrah and I lost some of my dearest friends, whose son now also works in this trade who I hope to repay my debt to some day for saving my life.  I started as an orphan in the city New Jornheim and was trained as a blacksmith for about 150 years until I became a well known and famous blacksmith whose fame has been forgotten in time. After a tragic forge mishap I went back to the church I was raised in to train as a man of faith. For the next hundred, or so years I worshipped the great god Yemekar to become closer to the flames and metal of creation. When my Clan left the Grand Empire of Urguan, we did so for the freedom of being our own sovereign nation.  I then fought on the front lines for my clan slowly watching fellow clansmen and friends die in front of me turning me cold inside. After watching the Orc who saved my life die in front of my eyes, I realized I didn’t know his name. That day I vowed to repay that debt. The debt to Grugmar’Undmor.  I’ve now retired back to my home town and took back up the hammer where I have been working as a small scale blacksmith shop who only sells to those I see fit.