Torrig

A tall Mountain Dwarf, Torrig has reddish blonde hair and green eyes.  He seeks out new knowledge and always wants to know how things work. He is also sucker for a pretty face.

My name is Torrig, son of Vastra, Born of Clan Gjallarhorn.

Aye, that’s right I said Gjallarhorn. But don’t get your hopes up - Yes, while it’s true I am a
descendant the Great Dwarven King Rumdar Blessedsunder, and that my ancestors founded the
Gjallarhorn Clan and shaped it into the mining and trade juggernaut it is today, I myself have no
hand in running the family nor affairs of state. I am 123rd in line for the Throne of Clan Leader.
Number 122nd is my twin brother Jerric who arrived 3 minutes earlier than me.
And he has never let me forget it.

In her early years, my mother Vastra served in the Nor Dorahl Guard, and grew increasingly
despondent with what she deemed shoddy workmanship of the weapons and armour produced
by the “artisans” of the city. As such, after her honorable discharge, she founded Vastra Defense
Munitions. Over the next 100 years she forged it into quite the prominent venture. Every guard in the
city sports a VDM stamped weapon, forged in Gjallarhorn steel of course. They will be dressed in
VDM armour too, if the negotiations go Ma’s way.

It is within this environment that my brother and I were raised.

We forged our first blades at the age of 6, smelting Ore at the age of 10. By age 14 we were
managing our own teams at Ma’s foundry. Jerric and I will take over the business one day, but
before we do, we must prove our worth by completing what is known as ‘The Pilgrimage of the
Forge’. A 10 year journey where we seek out tutors to train us in our craft, learn to use the weapons
and armour we forge and expand our knowledge while also hunting down rare and valuable items
with which to craft. It is a journey of self discovery, as much as it is a learning experience. Once
completed, we return home and present our mother with an item, forged by the knowledge and
skill we have obtained while away.

To encouraging us to take the Pilgrimage seriously, our mother has said whoever presents her with
the item of the highest craftsmanship, will get their name first on the new business ownership and a
marginally larger share of the profits.

I have to admit, Torrig and Jerric, Owners of Vastra Defense Munitions has a much nicer ring to it.
My brother, ever the traditionalist, chose to train and serve with the Nor Dorahl Guard, like our
mother before us and intends to study with the forgemasters of Dhumruhm. But that idea... bored
me. There is no new knowledge to be found here. So I chose a more... unconventional path.

After the Dragon Wars our leaders, however misguided, chose to seclude our society to the
mountains, all but cutting us off from the outside world. This suited us for time, but prolonged
isolation and a growing scarcity of resources has stagnated our people and culture. As such,
through much debate, the Council of Clans chose to send the trade vendors of Clan Gjallarhorn
out into the world at large. And what better to send than caravans of their finest forged VDM
weapons and the finest Gjallarhorn steel?

7 years ago, after securing Clan approval I left with a caravan, beyond the gates of Nor Dorahl
and past the furthest boarder of the Dwarf Kingdom proper. After securing a profitable trade route
with a human village, I made my way south until before I knew it, I was looking upon E’lise Maliae
herself, the Elven mother tree. It was then that I knew, these are the people I want to learn from.

After months of petitioning and pleading with the local leaders, I was granted permission to stay
within Lylndorei and Mendartis Orlan, an elderly Sword and Armour Smith, agreed to take me in
and tutor me. He possibly did so as a joke at first- to see the clumsy oaf make a fool of himself, but
he was never cruel and instructed me with the patience only elves possess. He was also fascinated
by my attempts to blend Elven and Dwarven techniques.

During this time Lia Amastacia (Starflower), Mendartis’ great grand daughter, trained me in the
ways of the Rangers. From her I learnt the lessons of the woods, as well as the earth and stone
beneath them. Like her great grandfather, Lia was a skilled tutor, adapting her own combat style
and teachings to a form that built on my Dwarven experience and subterranean upbringing. On
weeks when Mendartis was unavailable to teach me (busy with work or even just out of town) Lia
and I would go out on survival treks deep into the Wistful Woods, sometimes even to the Saaelynor
Sea. We’d explore caves and ruins, all at her insistence we survive with only the weapons we
brought with us, leaving any food and water behind in Lylndorei. Out of necessity, I soon found
myself keen with a bow, much different than the heavy hammers and axes preferred by my kin.
Though Elven crafting can take centuries to master, and I am by no means a master, Mendartis
taught me all he could and said only by continuing on my pilgrimage and continuing to practice
and hone my craft could I improve.

It was a bittersweet day when I left. Lia promised that if the gates of Nor Dorahl were ever opened
to others she’d be the first to come visit and that there’d always be a place for me in Lylndorei
were I ever to travel back south.

And so I make my way towards home while continuing my search for rare treasures and metals,
researching new techniques. With three years left of my journey there is still so much I could learn.
Perhaps I could call by Thimbledeep, find a Gnome to teach me about their intricate cogs and
gears. A retracting sword? A powered sword!... Oh the possibilities!

Until then, I think I’ll stay her in Riverbend for a spell. I’ve been on the road so long I could use a
break and this place seems very lively. Maybe the next path of my journey starts here?...