I like the taste of BLOOD!
I was born in the caves of Uldum to honorable parents. My father, Welder Ryder, was named as such because in the caves of Uldum, his steel was legendry. My mother, Lora, was a low born dwarf form the Blood-Ryder clan. She married my father and eventually moved to his homeland. My mother gave birth to five children. My sister Jenny is the only girl and my three brothers Rooney, Seamus and Lloyd; I am the eldest of the Ryder children. Uldum was beautiful in its intricacy, a vast labyrinth of caves that were homes, with one gigantic cave used as the main shop area. My father worked as one of the two blacksmiths in town, the other was my uncle Chink. The steel which was made by my family in Uldum was legendary. Dwarfs would come from all over for the steel with the Ryder mark on it.
When I was young, about nine, the caves of Uldum came under attack by a legion of goblins. They raided us in the night like the dishonorable dogs that they are. My entire kin outside of my immediate family died. The only reason that we survived is because my father had a hidden bunker which lead into a secret room that was packed with rations. We lived in this room for several days; I’m not sure for how long. When we emerged the entire town was burnt. The cave that was once breaming with life was now blackened by death. Everyone that I knew was dead. My mother told me to cover my eyes but I did not. I saw my uncle Chink burnt to a crisp with my cousins and my aunt. The baker that made our bread, and even the king…. the king of Uldum lay dead, burnt like the rest of them. We hurried as fast as we could never to look back; the only things that we grabbed were two swords; my father’s and one he made for me when I was older, along with some travelling rations.
After years of travel my family settled in the in a small village outside of Tepin the human city. No one lusted after the steel that my dad made anymore; he worked as a blacksmith assistant now. We lived a simple life but dreams of vengeance plagued me every night. When I was thirty I befriended a human named Rufio. We got our jollies form the darker side of things. We would steal anything we could from the local merchants. Any coin that we could muster was spent on good ale and bad whores. One night Rufio was on his way to pick me up for a night of debauchery and he spotted two goblins outside of the village, he said they looked like they were just passing by not looking for trouble, but I didn’t care. I grabbed the great sword that my father had made me when I was young and headed out. When we found them they were just sitting around a campfire. On the way there I told Rufio we were just going to ruff them up just scare them a little. Coming up to the campfire, however, I was thinking about the night fire my kin would have been lighting at the time…. When we came upon them I did not hesitate not for a Second. The sword that was once heavy in my hands became light as a feather. I cut the first goblin I reached in two down pieces, right down the middle. The other was so scared he couldn’t even pull the sword he had in his belt before I lopped his head off and sent it to the other end of the fire. Rufio stood there, half in horror and half amusement at what just happened. I wiped my sword and told him that I didn’t feel like going out that night; that was the last time that I ever saw Rufio. After the bloodshed I felt unusually tired and hurried home and slept for a day and a half.
The rest of the years that I spent in Tepin were spent drinking and fighting in the local Taverns. I had a few significant lovers but I also found myself frequenting the local whorehouses. I found no comfort in the deity that the dwarves worship, nor men and lest of all elves. In fact, I would get a kick out of stealing from the collection plate at the religious services my mother forced me to attend. In my experience the gods don’t care for the comings and goings of dwarves.