Role

Chapter 11

What's in a name?
Thendrell Thistletone, a dwarf born to the fourth generation of a disgraced
dwarven family. Dwarven memories are long, and his family name remains shamed
from their failings so long ago.

9 duergar raiders struck Thendrell's Ancestor's village outside Delar Tol,
where the Stone family was charged with its defense. But the Stones were
defeated, though 7 of them guarded the village. Only by the aid of a passing
mage were the duergars repelled, a single spell scattering their corpses
among the mountain side. Of the Stones, all 7 survived their injuries and
were left to live out lives stripped of any duties to defend for their
disgrace. Further, the elders changed their name to a more fitting one.

Stone remains a part, as a reminder of what once was, but without the 's'
because they were an insult to very earth and stones in how quickly they
crumbled under the attack. Thistle was added because the enemies went through
them as if they were but mere reeds, easily brushed past, without having to
be struck down. And thus the Thistletones have since sought to redeem their name.

Thendrell came to learn of his family's lost honor as soon as his young mind
could grasp what it meant. Like all others in the family he seeks only to
restore it. Not as a warrior, but as a paladin, by following Ysaloerye's
guidance and revelling in combat where he could, for the paragon's strength
was crated through her own will.
Thendrell did not hate magic, but more sought to prove that a dwarf did not
need magic to be strong. It was not the mages he had a problem with, for a
paladin lets all live their lives as they wish, so long as their heart be not
wicked. His problem with magic was that he held a notion that people believed
a dwarf's own strength and faith was somehow inferior to spells and mages.
He would travel with mages, if they were pure of heart, but accepted no aid
from them. He always sought to outdo every mage he travelled with, to fight
along side them so that they could marvel at his battle prowess, and realize
dwarven will could trump any spell.

Now, he has mastered the guild of the paladins, and has begun trying to more
fully understand what it means to be a true dedicant of Ysaloerye. And to
that, he has been tasked with discerning something worthy of sculpting. For
he is still but an apprentice mason, and his hands have not mastered the
arts. And before he can craft, a worthy subject must be sought and found.
Something that embodies the true strength of the dwarves. Their tenacity.
Their will. Perhaps, if he crafts something worthy, his family might regain a
shred of their lost honor, and his life will not have been for naught.