Durik grew up on the margins of a crowded city, a castoff among other street urchins. He survived by his wits and stealth, learning to pick locks, slip unseen through alleys, and snatch what coin or crust he could. Though hunger often drove him to petty theft, he never let go of his pride—or the faint hope that his fate might one day lead higher than the gutter.

It was during one such desperate night, hiding in the ruins of an abandoned shrine, that Durik first felt the presence of Stánmær the Stone Lord. The carved face of the dwarven god seemed to watch him, unmoving yet unyielding, and in that silent gaze Durik felt a promise: stone does not abandon its place, no matter how storm-battered. From then on, Durik swore to hold himself the same way.

When he came of age, he laid aside his life as a petty thief and trained as a paladin. He still carries the tools of his youth—lockpicks hidden in his pack, daggers at his belt—but now wields them in service to a higher purpose. Where once he crept in shadows, now he steps forward with shield raised, a guardian of sacred places and of the dignity of the dead.

"I have walked the shifting streets of hunger and shame, but the Stone Lord taught me this: rock endures. So long as I stand, so shall his will."