About Snorri TharnhammerSnorri Tharnhammer
--------------------
--------------------
Backstory:
"A Human King may be elected from a council. An Elven King may be chosen for their skill. But a Dwarven King is born, not raised. Three things conspire, so that destiny may crown a Dwarven King. One is blood, dark blood thicker than any other. Ancestral magic is tied to the sovereign bloodlines, ancient powers that our forefathers bound to the Great Thrones. One is prophecy, the sign of fate bending around a King. The right to rule applies to all that is in one's demesne. Walls crumble in front of the fated King, should they be in the way. And one is kin, a score of followers that shall be steadfast and loyal. A King shall never be alone, the greatest strength of a King is not in their arm but in their subjects. No one can stand if the other falls." - Excerpt from Ancient Nobility: Dwarven Lineages Imagine growing up as the scion of a dynasty that time has forgotten. Imagine hearing the wandering storytellers narrating the great deeds of people who shared your surname and your blood, while you have to work as a guard for a living. And now imagine hearing, as you grow towards maturity, a call from the deep, a voice from the underground, the plea of a forsaken city begging for its King back.
Son of the only daughter of the last High King of Dammerhall, Snorri grew into a fierce fighter and a great expert of legends and sagas, and he would have been made King the day his mother grew old and weak enough to abdicate. That is, he would have, hadn't Dammerhall been abandoned after the Black Flame Catastrophe. Patron Key: The Rightful High King Instead, he saw the first light and grew up in a human city, feeling as an exile even in the land where he had been born. Even if the Dwarven Quarter was built to resemble the ancient underground cities, with large squared stone buildings and a ceiling to block the sunlight, it was not an ancestral home, and every day it felt more of a prison. His mother was strong and wise, blood of the Kings flowing through her, but exile was too much for her after being born in the deep reaches of Dammerhall. She wasted away slowly, growing sad and withered from day to day. When merciful death came to take her, it took a husk of what should have been the High Queen. Snorri served in the local militia, wielding the axe that was his birthright, the axe that, according to legend, was held by the High Kings of Dammerhall. Patron Key: By this Axe I Rule. He showed himself to be a fierce leader and commander, leading the men who served with him to fight further and harder than any else, and his leadership skills had him become a respected voice in the city dwarven community, through his hard work and dedication. And then, one fateful day, news came. News of a way found into Dammerhall, news of an expedition to reclaim the ancient kingdom. Before he knew it, he had grabbed his axe and departed to seek companions. Appearance:
On a first glance, nothing would set Snorri aside from other dwarves. He has long, dark hair and a carefully braided beard the same color, he carries an axe and he wears his armor almost everywhere. However, on a more attentive glance, he carries himself with a portament unlike most dwarves, always moving with purpose and giving the impression of being in control. However, his most striking peculiarity can only be noticed when speaking to him. While most dwarves are gruff and unpleasant, Snorri always listens intently to those who speak to him, staring deep into their eyes with such a fierce expression that few can withstand it long. Most who meet him are impressed by his focus: he always seems to be giving the interlocutor his undivided attention, no matter how trivial the matter, treasuring advice and remembering information. Personality:
Growing up with the ghost of a lost birthright, the stones calling out to you, many a dwarves would have grown sullen, melancholic and resentful. So did Snorri's mother. Not so Snorri. Sure, he wasn't pleased by the situation, but he knew, deep inside, that destiny had something great in store for him. Walls crumble in front of the fated King, should they be in the way. That is not to say that he was fatalistic. For him, destiny is something to be achieved, not waited for. And so he strove for excellence, both in fighting and leading men, never giving up and never giving in, training and working until exhaustion, learning the ancient legends and wielding his ancestral axe. Glory or death, one of these two things waited for him, and he would not have accepted the latter. He smiled at adversities, knowing that every battle made him stronger, and he smiled at the friends who stood with him. Deep down in the bowels of the earth, forsaken and battered, Dammerhall still stood, and the resiliency of the great City was his own strength. He owed himself to do all he could. He owed all dwarves. He owed his mother's spirit. Relation to the Tharnhammer family:
Direct descendant (grandson) of the last High King. Son of Edda Tharnhammer and Starri Forgeheart. |
