Name: Sir Selgus Truefist
Race: Dwarf
Class: Paladin of Underfoot
Sex: Male
Age: 250 years
Height: 4' 6"
Weight: 350 lbs
Eyes: Blue
Hair: Brown

Selgus' Story

Selgus was raised in the prosperous clan holding of the Truefist, his father being the famous Hagnus Truefist, brewer extraordinare, and his mother Bertrude Truefist, a cleric of some renown. Hagnus always was at odds with his wife in private over her wandering adventures amongst the mountains of Butcher Block, healing the sick and fighting the encroaching goblins. However, Bertrude's father was the clan's chieftain, and she was his only child, so Hagnus had to live with her adventures as he stayed within the walls of the Truefist hold and brewed as his forefathers had before him for countless generations. As Selgus grew, he watched his mother on countless occasions prepare her armor and weapons for battle. Her kind face set in a hard mask as she oiled her well worn chainmail, and polish her warhammer. Her honey colored hair was plaited and tied tightly behind her head so as to not obscure her vision in the heat of battle. Whenever she saw her young son staring at her, she would smile, and his heart would soar with glee. Seeing her face set for battle scared young Selgus, his mother was always a warm and caring woman at home. But the tales he had heard of her in battle frightened him. In one such tale, she had faced a goblin wizard. She blinded the vile creature before it could finish its first incantation and promptly crushed its skull with her great hammer. Its scalp hung from a banner in the great hall. His heart swelled with pride when she came home with such trophies for the clan hall, and as he sat at the table for countless feasts in her honor. Always Hagnus was there, joyous his wife returned unscathed, yet always worry creased his brow. He feared for her safety, and secretly began to train as a warrior to try and help his wife in battle. Hagnus was big for a dwarf, nearly a full five feet in height and weighing well over 400 pounds, years of lifting full kegs of ale had made his muscles solid and his body had very little fat upon it, despite his love for his own products. As he clumsily struggled through warrior training unknown to his wife, Burtrude continued to hunt the goblins in the hills and gain in knowledge and power. Over time, Selgus grew to young manhood and began to secretly watch his father in his training. As much as he admired his mother for her healing powers, he was enthralled by the way his huge father moved with a sword well over his own height in his hands. His father had become skilled in the use of the two handed sword, and Selgus knew that was what he wanted to do when he grew older.

One day, Hagnus declared to his chieftain that he was prepared to go and assist his wife in the fight to clear the mountains of goblins. Old Khaladain knew his son-in-law had good intentions at heart and gifted the dwarf a full set of ancient chainmail to guard his hide, a suit he himself had worn as a younger dwarf. And so Hagnus began to serve alongside his wife, leaving his brewing business to his many siblings and cousins. As time wore on, husband and wife became a legendary team. As the years wore on, and Selgus' parents won many victories, old Khaladain passed on to the Halls of Brell Serilis, his mother becoming chieftaness. His father ruled beside her as her high counselor, as dwarven society does not have a title for the spouse of a clan ruler. The funeral for the venerable ruler was the most lavish in recent memory, with thousands attending, even King Stormhammer itself for it was whispered that the two had fought side by side in many a battle when they both were young and thin of beard.

As he grew of age, Selgus chose to begin training in the halls of the Knights of Underfoot in Kaladim to the delight of his parents, a happy medium between the professions of them both. They were saddened that he would be so far away, but they knew that was his decision.

As Selgus trained on, tales of his parent's exploits reached him, making him proud. He grew in skills quickly under the tutelage of the Underfoot Knights, quickly becoming the sharpest student in the halls.

One fateful day, word reached him that his clan hold was under siege by goblins. They had apparently learned to make war machines from some unscrupulous humans in Freeport and had begun to attack the dwarves in the one place they never could before. The call for a relief force was immediately sent out, and young Selgus promptly joined the forming army. Impatiently he waited as the army was provisioned and equipped, knowing that every minute meant he might not have a home to return to. He was issued a two handed axe and a set of ringmail. After an hour of adjustments at the smithy, Selgus was equipped for war. Training was stepped up for many of the younger dwarves, Selgus saw many a young warrior apprentice at the swording posts and marshaling grounds, some much younger than himself. In many of their faces, fear was writ plainly. As with all armies, rumors had been flying for the past two days, rumors telling of horrible war machines used by the vile goblins, and of ogre allies among them. After three days of preparations, the army set out at its fastest pace. Marching day and night, the army of five thousand warriors, paladins, clerics and rogue scouts made their way to the Truefist Hold, making the five day journey in only two.

As the dwarves crested a rise several leagues out from the Truefist Hold, they could see fires of the goblin army lighting the night in a dull angry red. By the scouts' count there were more than twenty-thousand. As the army drew into sight of the Hold, they could see the countless camp fires, small silhouettes darting in front of them from time to time. The army drew up and began getting into formation, though hungry and bone weary from their forced march. Large skins of heavy ale were passed about, each dwarf softly telling the man he passed the skin to his name and clan, as dwarves have done since time forgotten. As Selgus received the skin, he knew just by smelling it was his father's brew. He drank deeply, savoring the taste of something that took countless generations to perfect and praying to himself there would be many more to continue to do so, and passed to the next dwarf, telling him his name and clan. The dwarf looked at him sharply as he did so, knowing that Selgus' own family was the reason for this journey. As the entire army received the nourishing ale, for dwarven ale can be used as a meal for those traveling far and hard if need be, whispered orders were sent down the line by the general's runners, none other than Bulgar Ironbreaker. They were to draw up and 200 paces and loose arrows then charge. Slowly the army marched forward, the sound of their boots like thunder in the hills. The goblin camp below exploded into activity as the sentries first heard then caught sight of the approaching force. As the dwarves reached their mark, the paladins and warriors began drawing their bows. Clerics moved swiftly among the lines, blessing all they passed with spells from Brell himself, their droning incantations strangely comforting. At the sound of the horn, every dwarf with a bow loosed an arrow into the masses of seething goblins ahead of them. Quickly they re-nocked and loosed a second volley, dropping their bows and starting the charge. With war cries older than the hills themselves, the dwarven army roared towards the goblins slowly forming into ranks to receive the charge. Selgus' heart was pounding, fear gripped him, but his anger at these vile things was too great to be overcome by fear of death. A howling warcry was torn from his lips as he closed the gap of twenty paces across left ahead of him, raising his two handed axe above his head. The lines struck with a resounding clash as the two armies met, the cries of the combatants deafening. Selgus brought his axe down on the first goblin he saw, his sheer momentum cutting it in two. He bowled into the slain beast and waded into the fray, intent to cutting down every one of the greenskin vermin. He ducked the sword of a greenskinned whelp and removed its head from its shoulders in one swipe. Dodging and attacking, he tried desperately to see about himself. Suddenly he found himself face to face with an ogre! Stumbling back a step in shock, he nearly didn't get out of the way of the massive hammer the beast swung at him. Dodging for his life, Selgus desperately fought back. For agonizing minutes, he fought with all his might to simply avoid falling to this huge beast. Panting with exertion, Selgus fell to one knee. The ogre saw his chance to slay the pesky dwarf and raised his hammer high over his head to smash him to the earth. Selgus saw that he had one desperate chance to escape death and immediately swung his axe. The blade bit deep into the ogre's belly, causing it to stumble, howling in pain.

The ogre slowly collapsed on top of Selgus, pinning him to the ground and driving the axe still deeper into its own body. Gasping for breath, Selgus struggled beneath the massive ogre's corpse in an attempt to free himself. Already weakened by his fight with his now captor, Selgus knew he couldn't free himself. As he slowly blacked out from the pain, he could hear the cacophony of battle all around him as if from a great distance.

When Selgus awoke, he found himself still partly pinned beneath the ogre. It was morning, and all around himself he smelt death. As he heaved himself from beneath the ogre's arm and stood he saw the destruction that lay around him. As far as he could see lay dead goblins ogres and dwarves. A heavy mist filled with the stink of decay obscured everything farther than a few feet from view. He couldn't tell who had won, all he knew was the he was surrounded by the dead. Slowly making his was towards his family hold, he paused a moment to wrest an axe from a fallen dwarf's fingers, mumbling apologies to his brother in arms as he did. He left his coin purse in the dwarf's hand as payment and picked his way towards his home. As he slowly crossed the battlefield, he began seeing more and more dead goblins and ogres. The burnt out hulks of the goblin war machines jutted out of the battle field here and there, appearing as great fallen skeletal beasts. As Selgus made his way closer to the Hold, the clinging ground mist began to clear, letting his see farther towards his destination. Dozens of details of dwarves made their way through the field, extricating their fallen comrades from the piles of corpses. Selgus' heart soared, realizing that they had won!

He made his way towards the hold and stopped a dwarf bearing the tabard of the Knights of Underfoot standing guard out front.
" Ahhh... so we routed them eh?" Asked Selgus excitedly, "What of tha holding? how many survived?"
The much older dwarf looked into Selgus' eyes and simpy said, " Aye we won, but at a great cost. As fer the holdin, ye'd best see fer yerself."

He hurriedly made his way into the front gates, and dimly heard deep dwarven voices singing ancient funereal songs. Panic gripped Selgus then, for he knew songs such as those were only reserved for times of great sorrow. As he rushed into the hold, he could not help but notice the damage done by all the fighting. The great walls were damaged and in some places fallen completely. The gates themselves were smashed, one laying on the ground twisted and the other hung from one hinge, and Selgus knew that the goblins had battered them down. Anguish gripped his gut as he slowly reached the doors of the main hall. These too were smashed down. His face contorted in sorrow, he knew in his heart that his parents were dead. Rushing into the main dining hall, he saw general Bulgar and his officers, still covered in dirt and blood from the battle, standing in a line next to the main table. The signs of a great battle were all around him. In several places, the floor was stained with both goblin and dwarven blood and weapon scars were evident on many surfaces. Much of the furniture was smashed, yet the great feasting table appeared unscathed. Upon the great table, one that had seen many a great feast and joyous occasion but now held sorrow, lay two shrouded figures. The dwarves stopped singing when they caught sight of Selgus as tradition dictated. Bulgar called Selgus over.
"Come te where I stand lad, that ye may see what our ancient enemy has done,"growled the old dwarf in his harsh baritone.

Tears began streaming down the young dwarf's face as he slowly walked towards the general, his legs numb. As he drew next to the general, Bulgar nodded and two of his retainers drew back the shrouds over two of the figures. Slowly they made their way to each mound of cloth and removed the cover, that Selgus might see his family. The young dwarf saw his father's and mother's faces, and cried out in anguish, tearing at his beard.
"Do as tha laws say, boy. An' do it quickly fer yer kin deserve their rest." Growled Bulgar.

Clenching the axe in his hand, Selgus stepped up to his father's corpse. He looked into his dead face and remembered all the fond memories of youth, and slowly brought the axe to his father's beard. He carefully cut off one of the braids at the base and held it over his head. He stuffed one end into the collar of his armor, so that the long braid hung over his heart. He then stepped towards his mother's body. He remembered her kind eyes looking down at him on the eve before many a journey, and how she reassured him that Brell would bring her home safe. Once again he brought the axe up, and carefully cut one of her long plaits from her head. Again he repeated the traditional ritual and turned towards Bulgar. The retainers rewrapped his parents' bodies, and stepped to either side of Selgus.

Bulgar gripped Selgus by both his shoulders.
"This day will seem like tha worst o yer life lad, and well it should. But know ye that yer maither and faither sit aside Brell hisself. An' fight his battles in the Underfoot fer tha glory o his name. Tha' best way te remember them is te continue yer trainin and become tha best ye can.", rumbled the ancient dwarf, "Yer faither's sister Haeguna will assume control over tha Truefist hold now, as was dictated in tha laws o succession set down by Stormhammer. When yer ready, one day ye'll rule here as yer father would have wished. But many years and many sorrows lie afore ye. Would that I could help ye in yer pain, boy. But tha's somethin ye need te handle on yer own. Brell be with ye."

Numb with shock and grief, tears streaming freely down his face, Selgus nodded and went to his chambers in the upper floors. Too tired to think, he lay down fully armored and went to sleep. The next morning, he awoke to the sounds of horns calling assembly.
"Master Truefist, yer fellow knights call ye te return te tha hall o' tha Underfoot", stated a passing servant. Selgus grunted a reply and slowly pulled himself out of bed, his entire body in agony. He readjusted his armor, cinching it back into its proper fit, and placed his borrowed axe into his belt. He stiffly made his way down to the main hall, passing servant after servant busily repairing the damage done to the hold. As he entered the hall, he saw his aunt surrounded by servants, rapidly issuing orders. She was a huge woman, her massive arms pointing this way and that as she set her servants to their tasks. She wore a full suit of gleaming steel platemail, burnished to a mirror-like finish. A massive sword was strapped to her back and many of her retainers stood nearby, each one a woman warrior like their lady. Each looked dangerous, their hard eyes scanning all around themselves for danger. Catching sight of Selgus, she shoved her way out of the crowd and made her way to him, catching him up in a rough embrace.
"Brell be with ye lad, and yer kin look kindly on ye from his halls" she said softly in her gruff voice.
Releasing him and stepping back she held him at arm's length.
"Yer mother and father would be proud. I've heard tell of yer time on tha battlefield. Not bad... but next time go fer his legs from tha side" said his aunt, a small smile creased her weathered face.
Selgus nodded dumbly, unsure of what to say to his aunt, whom he hadn't seen in years.
"I'd best be going" he croaked, his throat tight with emotion as he once again thought of his parents, "Tha Underfoot knights await me."
"Aye lad, get yerself back te yer trainin. Best te be busy at times like this." his aunt replied, a knowing look in her eye.

With a final clasp on his shoulder, she gently pushed him towards the hall's main doors. As he walked towards them, several of his aunt's retainers gently patted him on the shoulder as he passed, murmuring their sympathies. As he passed through the great doors, a voice called him from behind. He turned and saw old Saganus rushing unsteadily towards him, his father's personal servant. He held a large bundle clutched awkwardly to his chest. The weathered dwarf thrust the package into Selgus' arms.
"This was yer father's, boy... best ye should have it. I know he'd no' want it any other way." rasped the ancient dwarf. His eyes wet with tears that pooled but did not run down his craggy face.

Selgus again nodded mutely, and clasped his once tutor's hand. Their eyes met and they knew it would be their last parting, as Saganus was very old, even by dwarven standards.
"I've served yer father's father and then yer father... one day I had hoped te serve ye as well. Seems Brell has other plans fer ye. Tho yer not a brewer, yer a damned fine lad. I know yer father smiles on ye from His halls." whispered the grey bearded dwarf.

A tear ran down Selgus' face as he nodded and once again continued on his way. As he walked with the heavy bundle, he unwrapped it, although he didn't need to to know what it was. It was his father's sword, a huge two hander nearly seven feet in length. He pulled the last of the cloth from it and leaned it against his shoulder. As he made his way across the courtyard, he saw that they had begun piling up the dead goblins in mounds for burning. Selgus' eye caught something in the closest one and walked over to it. He spied the ogre that had nearly killed him. Hefting his father's sword, he brought it up level with his face, similar to a duelist's salute. He studied the inscription engraved on the blade. It was in an ancient dwarven language he couldn't read, yet he already knew. It was his family history. Selgus raised the sword high above his head and brought it down sharply on the dead ogre's neck, nearly severing its massive head from its shoulders. He wrenched the blade free and once again brought it down, cleanly removing the head. He picked it up by its hair and held it even with his own eyes. Staring into its face he realized how little he feared its kind now, how little he feared death itself. Tying its hair onto his belt and letting it swing free at his side, he made his way to the column of Knights forming up nearby. The huge head bumping against his leg as he walked, his father's sword leaned at parade rest against his left shoulder, he marched to the commander and pounded his fist against his chest.

"Truefist, whole and ready te serve Brell, Captain" barked Selgus as he stood before his teacher.
The captain looked over at Selgus and smiled sadly.
"So ye made it eh? An ye've got a fine trophy te show fer it. Selgus, ye've lost more in tha past two days than most dwarves in a lifetime. Ye know ye will never see this place again, or at least not as ye remember it. Ye could stay here and serve alongside yer aunt, or ye can come with us and perhaps never come home. Are ye prepared te make that sacrifice, young dwarf?" said the captain in a hoarse whisper, his eyes searching Selgus' face.

Selgus met his mentor's stare and nodded grimly. He felt as if he had no other choice. He remembered his parent's pride when he had made his own choice and became a paladin candidate. How proud his father was when he chosen two handed weapons over the axe and shield. How his mother's face lit up when Selgus showed a great affinity for spellcasting, and deep understanding of divine texts. For him to turn back now would be to betray their memory and he would never do that. The captain nodded back and pointed towards the assembling company. Silently, Selgus marched over to his place in formation and waited with the rest of the paladin candidates for the call to march. His path was set, Brell had made his choice and he had chosen Selgus for his own. To fight for his people and defend his homeland. With pride in his step, he marched when the horn sounded. There was much to learn before he could properly set out to aid his people in their fight for survival against the encroaching evils. And learn he would. He touched the two braids hanging over his heart. He knew in his heart that his parents and his god were with him.