Rangrim Fireforge

I have a need to be a hero by defending the little guy.

I have a need to overindulge in tavern brawls.

My back story involves a sword I pulled from a stone and know is destined for greatness.

Broxx (PJ) and I have a relationship where I owe him money for the numerous times he's bailed me out of jail after bar fights.

(GW) and I have a relationship where one of us believes the other was involved with the death of their father, or one was involved secretly with the death of the other's father.

Backstory:
I grew up in a small village in the hills near Mount Leptor, home to the dwarven metropolis of Girdev, a massive underground city in the country of Duthgar. Broxx and I grew up in the same village. I was raised as an apprentice to my father in the ways of stone masonry. I seemed to be a natural and became well known for my craft, also rising in ranks within the Masons and Stonecutters Guild (MSG).

in 6731, my father, Bruenor, was killed. He was discovered in the wreckage of his workshop. It was written off as the result of a natural disaster, a fire started by a lightning strike. While sifting through the wreckage, there were details that didn't add up, like the fire appeared to start from two locations as if the lightning passed horizontally through two opposite walls. This mystery still haunts me.

I quickly spiralled down into the bottle and this led to many a late nights drunken in the pubs. My ego led me into many arguments, which inevitably turned into brawls. Over time, as the alcohol distracted me less, I began to crave the fighting more. There were some months where I spent more nights in a cell than in my own bed. Thankfully, Broxx took pity on me and was often their to cover my costs of bail and property damage. My name became notorious less for my work, but instead for my lament. I've built up a hefty debt to Broxx, 5000gp to be exact.

Last year, I went down to a pub, looking for a brawl, and encountered this pretty boy dwarf who I knew had my fist coming to his face. I walked up and engaged him in conversation, his voice so smooth, calming, and peaceful. It was grating to my ears. I reared back to sock him, but my swing going straight for his face somehow ended over a foot wide. He quickly ducked behind me, grappled me still, and managed to calm me.

As I listened, he introduced himself as Vondal of the Blade and told me of the Order of Eldenser which worshiped Bahamut but also believed Eldenser to be a deity under Bahamut. He convinced me to join this order and learn my true calling in life. We traveled to the order where I learned the ways to become a holy cleric of Bahamut. The order had a unique artifact in the center of their stone temple. In the center of the temple stands a holy chamber, with a longsword lodged in a boulder in the center of the chamber. No metal was allowed to enter the chamber. From time to time, Eldenser would speak periodically since his being resided within the blade. The order recorded his sayings as teachings and proverbs.

I one night woke and was drawn to the chamber. Eldenser spoke to me, revealing my destiny and calling me to strike out on adventure. He bid me to draw the blade and take it with me, so I did. I sneaked out that night, journeying to Bluelog to find Broxx, Eldenser whispering to me on the way, at least at first. He'd fallen silent after a couple days of traveling and I've not heard from him since. He may still reside in the blade, but I fear he's finally moved on, leaving behind only a longsword of fine make, but no particular special ability.

My path before me is set. Time to settle my debts and restore my name and renown, defending those that can't defend themselves, and become the hero I was destined to be. Bluelog stands on the horizon, only one day more until I've arrived...