Bromnyl Mightheart

## Description

*Bromnyl is a massive ursine, well-built and standing over 8 feet tall; he is covered in a thick coat of grey and brown fur. He is typically seen wearing a set of heavy plate armour its make a strange mixture of dwarven and fey design. Along the exposed portions of his body one can see a multitude of scars, the most prominent one being a set of claw marks that seem to have raked the left side of his face, just barely missing his eye.*

## Backstory

Bromnyl Mightheart, was born somewhere in the nearing mountains of the Obsidian holds however to reasons unknown to this Ursine, he was left there with no home or family to claim as his own, abandoned and lost the few day old cub was picked up by a caravan of mountain Dwarves heading back to reclaim their homes, the dwarf that saved him that day was a lady, around a hundred or so years, by the name of Bellewyl Firefeast, she noticed the cub in dismay and picked him up, just like a caring mother would.

Fast forward to a week or so, Bellewyl had named the Ursine Bromnyl, she was a little rough around the edges and unfortunately widowed, she could not carry the cub no more as Brom was growing at an exponential rate, and unlike Dwarves Ursine are hulking figures compared to their short and stout stature, none the less, he was taken care of and raised as their own.

At around the age of 5 he had picked up both the Dwarven languages used, Vydren and Runespeech, and since he was still young, instead of the deeper mines in the mountains, Brom was taken to learn the art of smithing, at first he struggled with the heat, but some silent hammer hits and a few howls of pain later, Brom got used to the long days repairing and making armour battle ready for those who returned from the onslaught against the demons. Belle also taught Brom how to use healing kits and how to tend to wounds, which he preferred to more than fixing claw-torn plate armour, and he did practice a little on some Dwarves that were injured, especially when Belle could not keep up with the casualties. Even though all this most dwarves didn't like that he was being raised by their kind and the acceptance came only when he started fighting and drinking, (sometimes at the same time) side by side with his peers.

In the meantime, Belle, his Mother a devout woman, taught Brom how to pray to the various gods, however to his dismay he never got any answers to his prayers, yet he kept on praying to whoever might hear him. This was also paired with training in weapons and heavy armour, forcing Brom to build muscle, size and weight, which made his life a little harder when it came to traversing the mines in the mountains. Eventually some common rooms and corridors were chiseled out so that Brom could walk straight instead of crawl, but that came after his first victory in battle.

When Brom hit his teens, he was finally allowed to do battle, something he always dreamt of, not for the thrill of battle but to assist on the battlefield and use his skills and resilience to protect the same people that gave him a home, in his mind he just wanted to repay them.

And so the fighting began, hordes of Demonkin rushed from the tunnels like insects, his first battle was the reclaiming of a grand hall room, that had equipment and old machinery of a massive forge, once lost to the Dwarven people, but now close and he was a part of it.

The fighting began and Brom held his position fast and strong, with eyes that could barely see in the darkness, he was at a disadvantage, yet he held the shield line strong, and when the fighting seemed hopeless and they had to retreat, leaving friends and comrades to the claws of the enemy, he refused to back down, instead he rushed forward barreling through lines of demonkin, shield in front, heading for injured Dwarves first and then heading to the small clusters that were singled out and forcibly detached from the main fighting force.

One by one Brom rushed from one injured Dwarf to the next, carrying two or three at a time back to the safety of the main force that was holding the entrance of the single tunnel. Demonkin tore at Brom, but his armor stood the onslaught and his resilience was powered by sheer will and his ursine strength, carrying a torch in his mouth to see where he was going, his claws cut through flesh and bone carving a path to the rest of the stranded units, seeing this a dwarf by the name of Grenmyr Stronghammer the youngest of the warband, was moved by Brom's courage, as he retrieved his father from the hopeless battlefield, being the one left in charge he split the main force to help Brom the ones that wanted to follow roared in unison, and followed to back up Brom, locking shields with him and moving forward, finally getting to the last units that were being overwhelmed and making it back to safety, the battle was lost, but the casualties were kept at a minimum thanks to Brom's reckless and courageous feat. That night the Tunnel was sealed once more, and a feast partook, where Brom was finally accepted as their own and given the name of Bromnyl Mightheart, as gifts he was given a belt of Dwarvenkind which made it pretty hilarious growing beards on that thick brown and grey fur, but it was mainly given because he could not see well in the dark unlike Dwarves. Every few years he was awarded gifts for his dedication and service to their cause, a shield, to enhance vision, an Adamantine Plate to further emphasise his resilience, and a censer, as a symbol to his devotion and prayer to the Guiding Mother.

From that point on, many battles ensued, and Brom was essential in most retaking of the Obsidian Holds, maintaining his training, skills and prayers, Brom was in his 30's when he finally had an answer to his prayers, The Guiding Mother answered his prayers mid battle no less, while trying to save his best friend, Grenmyr Stronghammer, which they became ever since his first battle. Hammer (as Brom called him) had been almost disemboweled by a ferocious Demonkin, unlike any other they had seen, claimed to be a chosen of something Mardu, which meant absolutely nothing to Brom except that he was a pain to deal with and he neither had the strength or the power to deal with him or keep the casualties down to a minimum. In his desperation he called out to the gods, someone that could turn the tide, in his tears, holding his best friend's bowels, and blood from spilling to the dark caverns, he heard a reply in his head, to take hold of the censer and channel his will into it, while speaking the words: 'Guidance for the lost and weary'. He did almost as if his hands moved on their own and to his joy and relief the censer transformed into a beacon of healing as the censer released an area of smoke that closed wounds and brought back the unconscious men to life. Realising that not just the censer had changed but also he himself as he found an arsenal of spells at the ready, and with his newly found powers he and the Dwarves managed to repel the creature.

Bromnyl thanking his newly found goddess for her assistance, delved further into prayer, of course not before a night of partying and drinking,with his fellow Dwarves.

However many times they repelled it the creature, seemed to return every time they would be trying to take back a new part of the mountain, until one fateful night, at age 41, getting older, wiser and reaching his race's age threshold, with a child on its way from his Dwarven wife, Arwaen Brawnmane, Brom was once more face to face with this chosen of Mardu, the two had gotten to know each other fairly well, also grown to hate each other even more, and finally the last battle took place, Dwarves fell to claws and fangs, yet Brom stood steady and held his ground, battling the chosen on even grounds, until the wretched thing was desperate and consumed one of its own and transformed into an even more gruesome monstrosity, with that it turned the tide and everything in its path was killed instantly, Brom beaten, bloody and on his last breath, called upon the Guiding mother, he offered what was left of his life in exchange for her divine intervention, to destroy the thing that plagued his people (Dwarves) and return those that had fallen that day back to the living arms of their loved ones. By miracle, as the creature boasted and monologued on its victory and describing what it was about to do to the rest of Brom's people, Brom offered up his life as radiating light swept the mountains, which in its wake and fall, the fallen Dwarves woke up to the sight to the burning puddle of what once was the Chosen of Mardu and the pale broken body of Brom, holding his shield and censer in his last moments of calling upon divinity, eyes pale white and fur devoid of colour as his life was extinguished in one final prayer to save the people that cared for him.

## After Unity and Hope

During the demonic invasion of the Feywild, Bromnyl proved himself to be a masterful healer and conduit for divine power. During his time in the Feywild he was drawn to the Bear King's court, and spent many a year within the thick woodlands of Bjoernheim indulging in the honey rivers and providing wisdom and healing to Orthavud's warriors. While he did maintain a friendly relationship with the Lord of Honey, the same cannot be said for her Crystalline Majesty.

The Elven Gods do not forget or forgive slights, a fact that Bromnyl came to clearly understand. The Ice Queen's shadow forever loomed over his shoulder, whether it be through the occurrence of small misfortunes or expert assassins. By all accounts (except for her own), Bromnyl successfully resisted her efforts to undermine him throughout their many confrontations, and the tale itself became a legend amongst the fey, a story whispered by many members of the Faerie Courts, although never in the presence of the Ice Queen.

It is unknown what eventually drove Bromnyl away from Ljosalfheim, some speculated that he had grown tired of his frequent confrontations against Gretchenval. Others however believe that the reason was a simpler one, a longing to return home, to see the family he had left behind. It is unknown whether he found this family, what is known, is that in the centuries that followed, his exploits within the dwarven realm became legendary.

Tales spread throughout the different holds across Penastria of a great ursine warrior, clad in thick metal plate, and wielding a holy weapon; who would come to aid the worthy in their time of greatest need. The Guardian Bear as he came to be known, while not worshipped as a god amongst the dwarves (due to them not really worshipping gods) was revered and respected, with many believing him to be an incarnate of their ancestral spirits. Many dwarves offer silent prayers to the Guardian Bear, hoping that he find them worthy of his help in their times of need.

Chief amongst them is Clan Dûnhaus which resides within the Obsidian Holds, the members of this clan are said to embody the Bear's beliefs in their day-to-day lives. They are also responsible for establishing the Order of Hearth and Home, an order of stalwart sentinels who serve as guardians and healers within the dwarven holds.