And so here I find myself in Helm’s Watch. Sipping weak-as-piss ale, sitting on a bar stool too tall for even my feet to brush the floor, and squinting in the human’s beloved sunlight. As luck would have it I am not alone up here. For the time being I have taken up with a newly formed band of stout dwarven axes-for-hire. At present we number five hardy souls, of such varying personality and skill I marvel we are all hewn from the same stone.
Our nominal leader is Hrothgar, a dwarf who talks a good fight though rarely stays on his feet long enough for his axe to back up his boasts. Next up is our scout Coran Pathfinder, a rough diamond who lends a subtle flair to complement the company’s brute force. Talking of which, the fiercely named warrior Dorn Mansmiter is one of the brutest forces I have ever had the pleasure to meet; thank the gods he’s on our side. And on the subject of deities the fourth member of our party is Josive Braveforger, an industrious priest of the Holy Mother to see we all make it safely home after our adventures. Finally there is myself, Grundopal Ironstone; an simple dwarf with an honest thirst for knowledge. Together we are the Dauntless Mercenary Company.