Kackrik Scruffbeard, Scruffbeard the Undaunted, Bloody Hammer of Battle

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Role

Chapter 9

An odd dome and a building worthy of craftsmenship awards
confronted me whilst on my travels. I entered and was immediately impressed
with the buildings architecture. In the center of this building, 5 stars were
floating and twisting around, making interesting shapes and the like. Though I was
distressed because the stars were bugging my vision, I still paid heed to my
surroundings (like a true warrior) and surveyed my location. I walked in to
a easterly room and found some Dark-elf scum. I mentioned some 'choice' words to him
and left in a westernly direction. The stars were still there and continued on their
course of annoyance, to me at least. I visited west and found a gnome leaning on his
polearm (twice the size of him). I spoke to the Head of the Building and he told me
that this gnome was more skilled in the combat arts then I. Though I don't really believe
him, I shall take his word for it. I tried conversing with the gnome but he just
looked the other way. Cocky bastard. I shall investigate this matter, building and those
involved with it at a later date.

Role

Chapter 8

I happened upon a portal when I was travelling the mountain peaks
and was confronted by a guard displaying a Crimson Eagle banner. He told me
that I will 'see no mercy', or something along those lines. I travelled in to the portal
and was immediately astounded by the sight that met my eyes. I glanced around at the
workmanship and noted it was definately human made, with perhaps some light-skinned dwarf
hands to help. I went in to a large room that had scenes depicting battles fought long
ago. I viewed the pictures and they began to show me battles involving this "Vassagon"
and his thoughts on them... his Past, Rebirth, Youth, Life, Battleragers and Ascension. This,
I found of great interest. How could a man be reborn and follow something, to further be
crowned as a lord in the sky (Shade of the Dark)? I read his stories and took them in, and
I will see what I can do with them floating in my head.. Crimson Eagle...

Role

Chapter 7

Throughout this week I have entered combat with numerous
individuals. Sometimes I did it just for the pure thrill of spilling blood,
other times, it was for political reasons (I would like to think so, at least). I have
noticed that my life has begun revolving around Combat with others. Never a day goes by
that I don't seem to enter it, willingly or not. I don't necessarily mind this. I just
have simply noticed this. Sometimes I feel like I am being watched by the sky above
(or sometimes, ceiling) and given unspoken words and rules to follow. I wonder, am
I truly being watched? And if so, by whom?

I am more competent with myself, and with the weapons around me that I use at my disposal. Though
this is good in itself, I do seek to better my training. Vigourous times, but I do have a body
that can withstand many a blow, both from age as well as pain. I will seek out something greater
then myself, as I age beyond years unobtainable to humans. I must find something.

Role

Chapter 6

I have finally found what I have been missing. Though when I was young, I was
gawked and laughed at because I could proficiently handle a mace/club better then my
brothers, I still always felt closer to that which cuts deep in to flesh. The axe. My
weapon of choice that has been far from my hand for so long. I now remember
the things my father taught me, though I eventually crushed his skull in. That
is another story, however. I look back on my life so far, and see battle, war, destruction
and fury mixed with rage. I have spoken to the leader of the "Village" about application
but I also feel something else is out there for me. I believe I shall bide my time to
learn my necessary skills, to see if I should indeed join this village.

Magic has been in my life for a bit, here and there. I am definately not addicted to it
like some of my other foolish brothers, or the humans (or the drow, burn them). However,
I have felt that it has somewhat of a 'positive' impact on my life. A mage even saved my life
from a brother. The irony is almost bitter in my mouth. How I should confront a mage is
not different from when my father taught me - never trust them, use them and discard them. Like
a piece of meat, before the slaughter. Hehe, I still agree with it. I don't know
what I should do about it though. I will bide my time, for now.
what I should do about it though. I will bide my time, for now. On the other hand, the
God I spoke to some time ago does not wish to make an appearance in my life here. I do
not necessarily know why, but I can ponder. Perhaps he has not found me worthy of his troubles.
If this is the case, then I won't go out of my way to impress him. Doing that makes you weak.
I will hold something close to my heart, and bring it forth on the tips of my axes. Har.

Role

Chapter 5

Many days and months have passed since I last sit back and went over
what has happened to me recently. I have learned in the ways of the Ward of Blades from
a monk of Macalla. Thus far, I have found it to be very useful when engaging enemies - it seems
to allow me to see and feel where the next blow will land, helping me to deflect it. I
have also became quite adept in my weapons. However, the main thing in my life right now revolves
around the village. I was told by Thror, a dwarf of light regard that he may give me a chance to
join the huts in the village. I was immediately suspectful, but nonethless, I took the challenge
and lent my blades to the village in the days past. A few evenings ago, I did travel with Juktar
and we both fought alongside each other, fighting bravily until we were overtaken with too many numbers.
I do believe, in my heart and my mind, that I will have what it takes to join this village. I have
have seen the combat and the war, the way it should be done. I feel like I have been missing something
ever since I left the Dark in search of a better place to train. I feel at home around those huts,
though its nothing compared to the Dark. Perhaps one day I can show the Village the horrid, ruthlessness
of my old home - so they may use it to fight the mages. My vendetta against Scion has grown very strong.
I fight those fools without regard for sanctum or their lives. The Scion's Of Eternal Night are everything
I have come to despise about the surface. Not only do they speak and make pacts with creatures from
the shadows (not unlike the Flay'rs of the Dark), but they also plan to sell this world to them. Though
my time on the surface has been short, I have come to realize that if the surface is to fall under
attack, the Dark would be next. The surface, is the front line. I must destroy Scion so my Kin, my
home and my legacy to come may be safe. I could care less about the Drow in the dark. Hell, if it was
up to me, my Kin would stop digging so damned much and get axes and fight! Regardless, I feel I have
a good chance at joining the village. My hammers strike true, my axes feel through.

Role

Chapter 4

For many weeks and months, I have battled against the most merciless foes
to walk this plane. For many weeks and months, I have battled against those who would
seek pleasure in seeing me and my Kin fail in any mission given to us. I have not fallen
and I will always be steadfast in whatever I must do. I gaze now, at the pillar in the
middle of what I call Village, and read the names on the markings. I wonder to myself, why
does it seem that there are no brethren on mine on this pillar? Are they casted out because
of the ignorance of the people who tread this land? Or perhaps it is because my brethren
have never been able to prove themselves. I sit back, and wonder, will I ever amount
and be the one they call Kackrik Scruffbeard, leader of the home I call Village? Will I always
be referred to as 'stinky' and 'stupid', rather then 'strong' and 'courageous'? Do actions matter
in this time? I seek answers but I do not find. I have always remained strong at heart with the
home I call Village, and have done feats that I once believed impossible by normal men or brethren of
mine. I wonder if its tact to ask what I am leading myself into, or maybe just going nowhere
sometimes. My hatred and rage are never ending, like the veins of diamonds that flow throughout
the Dark like crystalline waters, ready to be harnessed. My rage will never end against the mages
and those that seek to enslave and destroy my brothers. However, I must think of myself. I have
yet to see any action worth deeming 'hero-like' by anyone I have met in some time and I have even
begun to come to odds with those around me. I am thoughtless in this persuit of determination. Though
I know HOW I must accomplish this, I do not WHAT I am accomplishing. It is an enigma for myself, one
that may take many moons to figure out. Regardless, I fight on. Forever, with my rage inside of me.

Role

Chapter 3

Many things have transpired in my life. Though the last time I actually
sat down and considered all the things happening to me was quite long ago, I feel its
needed now. The war, is going fine. I have killed countless mages, enemies, warriors, leaders
in my conquest for respect amongst my Kin. One day even, I fought representives from all
organizations across the land, and either killed them in combat or defeated them in humilation.
Thus was my name given to me across the lands - Undaunted. I feel it is quite a fitting name
and the added power it gives me is also enjoyed. I try to live up to my reputation when needed. Either
by running head first in to a losing battle, or by staying put when odds are completely against me
I feel I must live up to my name.

I competed in the rites to despair and loss. The first opponent who I faced, Thrakadan, merely
flurried his swords around my being three or four times to fell me. I was very displeased with this,
seeing as I should have been able to take him! Alas, I failed, and the person I did NOT want to
make Commander, did. I kind of snapped at that moment, thinking I would lose my hut and all that
whiched I worked for, and attempted to kill myself. As I cut the knife deep in my flesh, a resplendant
being came before me and comforted me. Though I do not need any comforting, anytime at all, it
was certainly interesting to see that someone could actually care for one who is not their race.
Sabiene has been a guiding light in my conquest, aiding me when others look down upon me, as
well as giving me chances when even the heavens wish me dead..
I had to cut half my beard off for Beroxxus. I was forced to make a hard decision, but I
believe its the only way I keep myself (and my soul) intact today. The beardless half of my
chin feels odd.. light.. useless. I believe its a sign of some sort, showing that perhaps I have
to throw out old ways of thinking, to allow me to do what I must do.

My ultimate goal stands before me now. Shining brillantly in the moonlight, standing
tall above all the Village, it is certainly something to be revered.. and respected. Something
that I believe, I would like to represent. I have found that ultimately, there are none of my Kin
on the Pillar of the Village, and this is why I seek my name on it. To show that my Kin ARE TO
be respected, just like the pillar. That my Kin have what it takes to war like no other race on Thera
wiether it be below or above the surface. To show that, I, Kackrik Scruffbeard, am Kin. And thus should
be, respected by all my brothers.

Role

Chapter 2

Two hundred and thirty years I have travelled Thera. Fifty
was down in the Dark. Those days I remember easily, almost like it happened but
a minute ago. For some time, I have tried keeping my past and history
and with that, the pain, inside me locked up tight. This all came to pass
as the Battle Immortal Sabiene broke my pschye with her goddess powers of healing
and recuperation. As I sat on the mountain of mist, the shrine of the Kara Chal,
I felt myself and the rage inside of me untangling and unreleasing. It was an
interesting feeling, to say the least. As she brought back the memories of
the Dark, I felt the rage inside of me swell and buldge, as if it was trying
to escape and be released. My vision became clouded, as I felt myself
re-living the times back in the Dark...

Times were tough. Our house, a building half comprised of the caves
around us and an amount of Kobold droppings that will go unnamed, was not a place
where one would find refuge. When my "Father" was home, his friends would
come in and destroy our house in a drunken rampage. I remember sitting on the
concrete floor, nearly drowning in my own feces, seeing my Mother killed in front of
me because my "Father" was not pleased with her. I wasn't really pleased with her, either.
Duergar women are not something the world likes to talk about, simply because they
are not women-like in any way. My Mother killed nearly as many people as my Father. Though
her favourite weapon was a gigantic metallic pan she found on one of her brave trips to
the surface, she still revelled in robbing and murdering our neighbours with my Father. No,
the Dark is not like the surface whatsoever. If you found yourself a shiny item, say... a shirt
of chainmail, if your "neighbours" wanted it, they would burst in to your house and take
it - regardless of the occupants willingness to fight. If you got in their way and they had
bigger weapons (or muscles), you either let them do it and hope they don't kill you, or they
would kill you do and do it anyways.

As I grew up, my Father became less and less in my life, where my weapons became more and more. I
killed my very first Kobold when I was the human age of fifty. As I sliced his arm off with
a lopsided, uneven Drow sword, his arm dropped a massive cudgel. As I ran him through, I picked
up the cudgel and inspected it, wondering why such a dumb creature would hold such a magnificant
weapon. I returned back to my dwelling to find it ransacked once again. Without my Mother around,
there was no one to stop the bastards from stealing all our poesessions. Knowing my Father, he
probably did it himself. I sat on the stone floor, inspecting the cudgel for hours. As I was
about to drift off asleep, my Father came bursting in on one of his very predictable but still
menancing drunken rampages. With his trademark massive boots, he kick the door completely down
and stalked in, looking for something to take or someone to fight. He gazed upon me, not seeing
a Son of his, but an enemy. He yelled at me "Eh yer stupid fark! Where yer git the Little spoon from!?"
and burst out laughing, almost falling over in the process. Being still young by Duergar's age, I
simply sat and looked at him uneasily - not knowing what would come from this. He gathered himself
up and began lumbering towards me, boots clanking against the cold stone ground. I looked up
in to his pale eyes and saw, for the first time in my

Role

Chapter 1

my mace fall hard against his nose, using the back force and my mace to make an excellent vice. His
face instantly splattered against the ground, leaving an odd design on the ground. I knelt and moved
the blood around in my hand as Duergar passed by, not surprised at the sight whatsoever. These were
common day occurances in the UnderDark. I stood up and gazed at the sight and noticed my Father sitting
on a rock, looking despaired. I began to slowly walk towards him, somewhat curious on why
he looked so sad - I just honored him by killing four foes in a battle. As I came nearer, he held up
his hand, silently telling me to stop. I said "Eh?" and the world became black.


I awoke to find myself bound and tied, barely able to breathe. I was trapped somehow in a closed
area. My nose and beginnings of a beard were covered in soot and I breathed in dust. I knew where
I was and I immediately wanted out! I struggled, only creating more a stir of dust and soot
making it extremely hard to breathe. I heard a grunt, recognized as my Father, and then world
became black once more, only I could breathe and was aware of the darkness. I was stuck in this
shaft, a mining shaft. Stuck to die. After many hours of struggling, I passed out because of
exhaustion, thinking I was going to die. Hours, years, months, time unknown passed, lying
in soot and dirt, barely able to breathe thanks to the dust. Then, a light shone through and I was
suddenly falling for a moments time, then landing on something hard. Then oddly, I was falling
again, but this time - slower then usual. As if I was.. floating. I stopped moving, feining
death, so whatever has broken through the shaft does not find me a suitable meal. I stopped floating
downwards (its what I presume down) and the utterings of the Drow language made me cringe. Somehow
the Drow have found me. Once they find me amongst this dirt, I am going to die, or worse. My mind
began racing for plots to escape. Unfortunately, I was noticed, as I began to float upwards and
towards someone muttering something. I stopped moving, but remained floating, huddled in my feining
position. The Drow uttered something else, and instantly my bindings were released. My eyes
were somehow forced open and I was forced to gaze in to a Drow's eyes. Massive, almond black
opals gazed at me with the same look one would give a pet, or one to kill. I instantly began trying
to force off my way up and standing upright, but to no avail. Of all things, the Drow laughed
at me! I sneered and tried biting the Drow's face off, trying to show the stupid elf that I am
not one to be messed with! Almost knowing what I was thinking, the Drow simply stepped back, avoiding
my vicious-to-be-fatal bite. The Drow turned to his companion and said something silently, before
they giggled like the weaklings they are. The Drow who held me came closer to me and touched my
forehead. Through the burning touch, I fell asleep almost peacefully. It was beginning to be
common on how fast I was thrown around.

Times passed once again. The Drow, in their arrogance, made me their slave. They made me do
the things they found too hard or too exhausting to do. Clean the floors of their massive house
or feed the exotic pets they kept. Sometimes I even had to go out and fight off raiders for them, all
because they felt themselves higher then me. The days passed and my rage began to grow, my hatred
for the Drow ma