Last Name: Hammerstone
Appearance: Dirty and unkempt, he smells of body odor and alcohol. His armor is tarnished and dented but his axe looks sharp and well maintained. Gold rings are woven into the braids he keeps in his beard.
Race: Dwarf
Age: Middle aged
Height: Average
Weight: Bulky and muscular
Eyes: Blue
Hair: Black as coal
Facial Hair Style: Beard worn in braids with gold rings woven in.
Personality Profile: Gruff and sour. Quick to spit an insult without thinking first. Generally mean to all but dwarves.
General Health: Healthy
Deity: Dumathoin, though he pays homage to most in the dwarves pantheon.
Initial Alignment: CN
Profession: Adventurer
Base Class & Proposed Development: Rogue/Fighter/Bodyguard/FB
Habits/Hobbies: Drinking dwarven holy water (alcohol), spitting insults, crack’n skulls.
Languages: Dwarven, Common, Giant, Orc
Weapon of Choice: Dwarven Waraxe
Background: After his family left Felbarr they migrated north to Ironmaster. Breungor was raised alongside his brothers and cousins learning to mine ore from the ground while his father was out on patrol. He can remember the stories his mother told him before bed each night, of Citadel Felbarr, and all it’s glory. Stories that were handed down from his grandparents.Since the year -1900 DR, the year of when it was completed, Citadel Felbarr stood as one of the grand jewels of mighty dwarf empire of Delzoun. However when the clans of fellow underground shield dwarf empire Ammarindar immigrated to Myth Drannor at the fall of their kingdom to demons. Most of the clans of already weakening citadel, it's mined out ore veins and Delzoun empire joined this retreat at 273 DR, leaving Felbarr to crumble and vulnerable to raiding monsters and orcs. Few clans loyally stayed behind and stood proudly against the constant orc attacks and sieges. One of these clans was Clan Belroun. Long did they hold fast in their mountain fortress with other clans, ever bitter of most clans decision of leave to Cormanathor woods. To them it was not an option to leave their beloved and proud home behind. But the ore veins kept running thin and more dwarves were killed by hostiles behind the protecting and proud Runegate.
Most of the clans were leaving or had done so years ago, until the time when Clan Belroun was alone. When its elders deceased and more and more warriors fell, it came a time for the loyal dwarves to make the bitter decision. Either stay and defend the fortress to their end or leave as others had done. Bitter looks on all faces and sad song were sang that day when they packed everything they could carry with them at the day of abandoning. The Runegate was sealed and what remain behind now laid in the dark for anyone fast enough to take. In 1054 DR the already shattered clan spread across the north, some taking refuge in the north inside the mighty halls of Adbar, some to Ironmaster, some made their way to Spine of the World, and some spread in cities and communities all around the Siver Marches and the North. Most of the dispersed took new clan names as they parted. To this day only memory of the clan’s glory remains, and stories survive in the long and loyal minds of its members. Where ever all of them are now they still remember their lineage. Its members are proud to call themselves the clan that stood last to the end of what now is the Citadel of Many-Arrows, bastion of orc-kind. Only a few of them live today and still remembers that bitter time. Rest assured however, that the offspring of this clan knows of their legacy. Delzoun ultimately fell, but the dwarves didn't.
Once of age, Breungor joined his father patrolling the land and tunnels around Ironmaster. He learned his hatred for the other races from his time spent on those patrols. Only very few were spared had they crossed into Ironmaster territory. Those that were, Breungor treated like cattle as the patrol blindfolded them and led them out, leaving them in unknown and broken terrain with no weapons or armor.
Once he hit adulthood he chose to head out into the world to find his fortune. He took on odd jobs as caravan guard for dwarven communities, never seeing the action he was looking for he went further south until finally landing in Baldur’s Gate. He has met a few stouts in the region, ones he can trust. His trust in the other races is fleeting at best, it doesn’t take much for Breungor to turn hostile if he thinks he’s been wronged.
Goals: To drink and crush skulls until he takes his last breath. His loyalties lie with the band of dwarves he runs with, his goals usually run with theirs.
Possible Plot-Hook Ideas and Misc Facts: He often thinks of a time when he may see Citadel Felbarr free once again. He understands that it is just that…a thought.