Ragnar “The Rock” Ravenurix (Stormcleave)

 

Ragnar’s tale begun like most mountain dwarves, in a mountain village with a stomach full of grub and a head full of the stones he was looking forward to digging up. His place of birth was Murnox, which happened to be the hometown of many of the finest Rangers in the Ravenurix clan. To join Ragnar in is decades long quest to beg for food from his mother, was his brother (+6 years), his sister (+3 years), and his little brother (-4 years). He was born and raised with Ravenurix, and thus excitedly read any new development Ravenurix was researching, be it new rifle technology or cannon fire volatility improvements.

When basic Dwarven elementary came to its end for our Ragnar, it was the logical thing for young dwarfs like himself to join the dwarven legions in search for their fighting style, if not to prevent not being a disappointment to your clan and brethren. Proud, Ragnar departed from his home as Dwarven military success was heard of from around the realm. Although Ragnar left for the army far sooner than his older brother (at age 40) everyone including his mother saw security in the army, that besides losing a rather jolly mouth to feed was all she needed to know.

Due to Ragnars oddly young age to be joining any Clan’s army, after training he was due to become a general's messenger. Knowing this our Ragnar set out to training, wanting to become an agile and swift soldier, being able to enter enemy lines for great distances without having one of his limbs become a delightful treat for orcs. A few weeks in however, Ragnar seemed more able to talk his way out training than to evade the trainer, even though he wasn’t particularly amazing at either stealth or agility, the fella knew how to sneak his way into a heart.

Ragnar was a growing Dwarf as he had himself believe, meaning no day was truly finished without a stroll down to the local market to get whatever food he could get his hands on for a bargain, especially if it reminded him of home.

As the weeks of his training passed and it became apparent that Ragnar had little to do in the field of clandestine activity, many assumed he would become a cleric, like many without taste or ability for bloodshed in his village.

That changed when another seemingly regular day of training had past, and Ragnar as usual fled off to the market before the pork ran out. When he entered the butchers shop, he found himself in the middle of a ferocious arrest in full combat armor. Someone smaller than your average mountain dwarf had apparently been caught stealing the butchers' tastiest wares, and the butcher was infuriated with the quality grub (he was saving for himself) being nearly stolen by some boy, a boy who was about to feel the business end of this butcher's cleaver.

Seeing the fear of death in the robber's eyes, Ragnar did what had been brewing inside for quite some time. He grabbed a table off the ground and shield bashed the butcher as hard as he could, making the butcher drop his cleaver and lose his grip on the “boy”. Whilst the butcher was shouting “you bloody gibberin’ pyrite-brained back-stabbing spit-weasel”, Ragnar felt a sense of benevolence as he saw the crook run out with a relieved yet confused look, but nonetheless a bag full of meat. Seconds later, not only did our table-basher get a smack on his head with the flat side of a cleaver, but he found himself locked inside the barracks for the rest of his training with only 2 things really crossing his mind. With his newfound ability to stand firm in the face of impeding danger, Ragnar soon knew he was a Paladin at heart, but he’d also never seen green hair like the crook had on a dwarf before.

Upon completion of his training, Ragnar was recruited into the 7th battalion of the Ravenurix-Blackmountain-Caveblades clan allegiance. He set out to accomplish an ambitious feat, like his brother before him, so that they may one day stand side by side protecting their fellow men, and in his words “kick massive Butt”.

Upon departure Ragnar stopped by the butcher one last time to buy the exact thing that was stolen on his fateful day, just to take it into the back alley he saw the green haired person run off to. It was when this little burglar pulled out her rusty knife and reluctantly threatened Ragnar to hand over the meat, that Ragnar smiled, and calmly responded, “This is for you”.