Bellows in the deep
May your bridge last forever
Hroth is Dwarf ranger whom has spent hundreds of years wondering world, that he help build with his own two hands. These memories however are so long ago they are lost. The only echo of them is the perpetual feeling of having no purpose. This is why he wonders the world building and creating, its an almost primal instinct for him. Hroth is master at crafting, there is nothing he cannot build, although their are things he refuses to build with. Hroth will never, ever build anything out of wood. He could create the most wondrous homes and forts from pine and oak but refuses to do so. He works in stone and in metal and that is it. You see whilst he does not remember the days of creation, he does remember one day in his past, a day that would define him and his entire life.
Dwarfs are a rare breed in the world today and that is because they were never meant to be here. The Dwarfs were the workforce of the Goddess Tera, the architect of all things physical, but when she died the Dwarfs and their co-workers the Gnomes were left behind. With no purpose and with no end the Dwarfs and Gnomes struggled to continue and through time, war and persecution, their number dwindled. Hroth managed to survive by being part of a rare but wonderful thing and that is a Dwarven community. These communities gave purpose to those involved, things had to be built, food grown, clothes made and tools crafted. In these small holds Dwarves finally began to enjoy their retirement.
However Hroth was to lose it all. Hroth was a keen and talented constructor and so he was commissioned to build a bridge. The purpose of the bridge was to connect a second peak to their hold. The idea being that the Dwarves could expand their living space, create more room for the new arrivals that seemed to be coming daily. If this bridge could be built then the Dwarves may have a chance of creating a city and a future for themselves. Hroth was of course honoured by this task and began construction right away. Being so high in the mountains he reasoned that whilst stone was plentifull it was not easy to transport up to the peaks and so a lighter wooden construct would be best for this project. He builds a huge, beautiful and reliable bridge and for a time the Dwarven hold began work on the second peak. This bliss however would not last. What happens next is a tragedy and how it happened is still a mystery but a fire breaks out and ignites the bridge. The bridges charred remains plummented below, taking countless Dwarven lives with it and Hroth could do nothing but stare at the horror unfolding before him.
The Dwarven hold was soon abandoned those who had dared to hope fell disillusioned and once again went to walk the world purposeless and forgotten. Hroth has never forgiven himself for that day, he blames himself for not using stone instead. Now he wonders the wilds selling his skills to towns of men. One day he hopes to return, fix his mistake and reunite his people for one last chance at life but before he can do that he must conquer his shame, something that he is struggling with.