Dwarf, Fighter, Brusque, Brawler, Unstoppable
My name is Drekk McBrukk. I am the last surviving member of clan Blackaxe. My clan was destroyed by a goblin raid when I was 52. Our fighters, I included, were called to help in a nearby battle against a group of orcs, but little did we know that the orcs were working with the goblins to simply lure us all away from our loved ones. It was most likely retaliation for the death of their leader. They hardly put up a fight, and then turned and ran. We thought our victory at hand, but when we returned to our mountain, we found it plundered and destroyed, and all our families and friends dead. Heartbroken and angered, we immediately planned a counterattack. We followed the goblins trail, and found their hideout. We broke in, and slaughtered as many of them as we could. Hundreds, maybe thousands died before our axes, including all their chiefs and shamans. But the price we paid for our recklessness was the lives of all of our fighters. I continued to fight until the last goblin was dead or gone, and I thought myself dead. But I alone rose from the massacre, for reasons I don’t know why. With nothing left for me of my home, I took what little there was left for me and left. For the past year I have been wandering from town to town, earning my keep as a blacksmith or as a fighter/guard in traveling caravans. It has been hard, but not without its worth at times. Some days are tough, others easy, but throughout all of them I am grateful to be alive. I hope to one day find another dwarven clan similar to my own and settle down, but until then I will search to find the place that I belong.