[name] educated in a family following strictly Moradin's code, [name] was a promising young dwarf. Appreciated by all for his good manner, willingness to help and combat ability, he was seen as the golden boy of the tribe. As he reached adulthood he was sent assigned to the local militia. During one of his underground patrol he fell on a group of Kobold. They quickly neutralise the threath and captures a few of them to interrogates them. One of them was a sorcerer. [name] was initially very surprised to see how the creature was mastering magic, as an innate things. During one of his round at the prison he started to discuss with the sorcerer asking him how he was doing those tricks. He finally convinced him to teach him. For a year almost every night he spent an hour during his lunch break to learn about the art.
[name] was making progress, slowly chanelling the arcane energy within his body but still unable to convert it to anything useful.
The village was then attacked by an enormous tribes of gobelin. The authority had been notified by a messenger and were asked to hold the village as long as possible while reinforcement from the nearest city was on his way. As the non-combatant member of the tribes were escaping the village they were ambushed by the gobelin and all killed. Some were taking prisoner and suffered horrible torture, whishing they had been killed on the spot.
The goblin army then crashed on the village. They completly destroyed it. Killing almost all the warriors in there. [name] fought until he was outnumbered and could stop all of their attacks. He was hit in the stomach and fell on the ground unconscious. For a weeks he lyed in his blood among the bodies of his fallen comrade. Then his eyes opened, using the powers that were given by Moradin he healed partially his injury, cleaning them and helping for a faster recovery. The odor in the cave was horrible, all these decaying bodies of dwarf and gobelin around.
All the people he ever knew were all dead around him, father, mother, sisters and brothers. His best friends and his secret love also killed. Revenge was slowly filling him, he knelt on the ground and started praying hard, asking Moradin to keep his mind clean of vengeance as it usually hinder the warrior minds more than it helps it.
He considered going back to the nearby dwarven city, but he didn't know anybody there, it wasn't his clan, his family. These people were as estranged to him as the humans in the village nearby.
[name] With no clan to call his own, no roots, no home, felt alone. But it is this loneliness that gave him the power to abandon everything to bring justice and peace to this world. Hopping that he will be able to give others what he was deprived from. A safe place where he can live in peace with his clan, learning traditions and wisdom from the elders.
Ever since [name] has been roaming the underdark hoping to help those in needs.
In his past time he still continues to develop his innate arcane ability but hasn't yet figured out how to convert the energy in anything useful.
