Enormund Stonefist

## Enormund's Origin

Coming from a long line of large dwarves, Stormund Stonefist knew his son, Enormund, would be huge. The Stonefists got their clan name from their heavy hands and masonry skills. Upon Enormund’s entry into the world he ripped his mother open, draining the life out of her. Stormund was a stoic man, but that night there wasn’t a soul in the colony that didn’t hear his screams echo through the cavernous mountain.

Enormund was the biggest babe the clan had ever seen. All dwarves are known to be stout but Enormund was about as wide as he was long. By the time he was five years old Enormund was taller than the children twice his age. It was around his fifteenth birthday, he passed his father in height. At the age of twenty Enormund was known as not only the tallest dwarf in his clan, but also one of the strongest.

Stormund taught Enormund many things as  he grew up. He helped him perfect his masonry skills just has his father did for him. He taught him how to mine, purify, and smith weapons. He even taught him how to fight with just his hands. While Stormund was an excellent teacher, he was a resentful father. Enormund had his mother’s fiery hair, her copper eyes, and the elders styled his hair just as his mother did. Stormund was reminded of his beloved wife with every glance at his son. He never outright said it but it was clear to Enormund that he blamed him.  Enormund silently recognized his father’s resentment and as soon as he came of age he moved out onto his own.

They lived deep inside Mount Silent, the largest mountain in The Whispering Highlands. Enormund moved to The Veiled Mountain, a smaller mountain that sat on the edge of The Whispering Highlands. He was proficient enough in masonry to make some additional income and his strength made him a great miner. Enormund worked the mines for more than a decade with little struggle. With each passing year he grew more and more restless. Dwarves are considered young until they are around fifty and Enormund was sick of spending his youth without excitement.

Enormund headed to the Tavern of the Shrouded Cavern with a couple of his cousins after mining. The Shrouded Cavern was a hidden cave within the colony. Its entryway was concealed by fine masonry and a system of levers. Its existence only known to certain clansmen. Enormund was informed of the Cavern nearly three years prior when his cousin Dagamor brought him there after work. Within the cavern there were multiple store fronts, forges, and the tavern. Every business in the cavern had some sort of contraband. There were illegal weapons in the forge, fine clothes and jewelry from other races in the stores, and an alchemist with poisons forbidden in the colony. The tavern sold very sweet Gnomish and Human wine. All of these goods could not be found elsewhere in the colony. Enormund was in awe on his first visit. He loved the wine and kept going back for it ever since.

Inside the tavern was a bar that was carved into the stone with fine patterns etched into the front. In the middle of the room there were stone tables and chairs. To the opposite side of the bar there were a series of pits. Each pit contained a table and four chairs. Enormund and his cousins entered and immediately went to their usually spot, the deepest pit. Enormund was young but was quite skilled in masonry. After a couple years, he made his own stone chair. He crafted it with great attention to detail adding fine patterns and carving his sigil, a clenched stone fist, into the backrest.

The barmaid brought them their usual drinks, gnomish wine for his cousins and a human made blackberry wine for Enormund. They were bantering back and forth  when a strange dwarf interrupted their conversation. Dwarves are known for their short stature, but this man was truly small. His hair was dark as night and so long it stretched over his potbelly. It was braided in a way that made it impossible to distinguish where his hair ended and his beard began.

“You’ve got to be the biggest damn dwarf I’ve ever seen, if you weren’t so wide I’d have mistaken you for a human!”

Enormund was used to being reminded of his size and he no longer had the patience for it, “Aye, I’m a big lad, there a reason you think you gotta remind me?” Normally people feel threatened by his response, but this man was different.

“What’s yer clan name?” the man inquired.

“Stonefist” Enormund replied.

“That explains it. So it's safe to say you know how to fight?”

Enormund stood up, towering over the man, “You want to find out?”

The man still was not frightened, “No, name’s Thorron Rubyjaw and I’m going to make us some coin.”

Thorron told Enormund about his secret fighting pits. It was fistacuff only, something Enormund was quite capable in. Enormund’s thirst for excitement led him to listen without a hint of doubt.

“So for your first fight I’ll give ye a tenth of what I make off the bets.”

Enormund was puzzled, “Only a tenth? That’s almost nothing.”

Thorron was ready for this, “Aye it’s almost nothing, but without me you are nothing. I’ll increase your cut the more you fight.”

Enormund thought for a moment then replied, “Fine, but you’ve got to double it for each fight after that.”

Thorron hesitated then replied, “Deal, but the max cut you’ll get is half.” Enormund grabbed Thorron’s forearm and the agreement was set.

Throughout the following fortnight Enormund spent all day in the mines and all of his spare time training. He was already a colossal and talented fellow, but he needed to sharpen his skills if he wanted to win unharmed. In his mind, there was no possible way he could lose. He was always the strongest dwarf around and his size convinced him he was destined for greatness.

Enormund was not invited to visit the fighting pits until his debut. On the day of his fight, he did not work as hard as he would on a normal day. He knew he needed all of his strength for the fight. If it was up to him he wouldn’t have worked at all, but all dwarves must work during the midweek and he was no exception.

Enormund met up with Thorron at the same place they did upon their first encounter, The Tavern of the Shrouded Cavern. They grabbed one drink each and then Thorron led Enormund to the hidden arena.

The arena entrance was deep within the Shrouded Cavern. It was disguised in a small inlet with a hidden passage. It was much farther into the cavern than Enormund had ever traveled. The two of them entered the arena. The cavern was not much different than the others in the colony. The only part of it that was unique was the height of the ceiling. It appeared to be double that of the other caverns. The raised ceiling was necessary in order to make more rows of benches. The fighting pit was in the center of the arena and circling outwards were six layers of benches. Each layer was nearly filled with not only dwarves but Gnomes and Humans too. Enormund was amazed at the size of something so secretive.

Thorron quickly interrupted his wonder, “To the right over there is your waiting chamber. Prepare yourself you’re up next.”

Enormund headed over without a reply. Once inside he began pacing back and forth. He knew he could hit, he knew he could take hits, and he knew he could win. His confidence didn’t seem to lessen his anxiety. There was something different about such an organized fight. In the past the fights he got into were so spontaneous. The anticipation and the crowd brought new feelings he hadn’t quite experienced before.

A voice suddenly boomed throughout the arena, “Galrak hits the floor! Thurdar is the  Winner!”

Enormund could not practice magic but it was not unfamiliar to him. He noticed the announcer had to be doing something magical to amplify his voice. With each word he spoke, his voice echoed through Enormund’s chest.

The voice boomed once more, “Up next is the nimble Dalmek. He will be facing our newest contenter, Enormund!”

Enormund strutted into the arena as though he fought many times before. Once he stepped inside every thought and worry in his mind evaporated. The announcer hit a gong and the fight began.

Dalmek landed two blows onto Enormund’s face before he could even swing once. He was quicker than anyone Enormund had fought before, but it did not startle him. Enormund swung back with a right jab and then quickly a left hook. Neither attack connected with Dalmek, he dodged to the left and nailed Enormund with an uppercut. The audience all screamed in unison. Their screams were filled not with excitement, but terror.

The fighter’s attention shifted to the boom of the announcer, “Orc’s! Fighter’s attack! Everyone else run!”

Enormund and the other fighters faced the eminent threat. They immediately began bludgeoning every Orc that entered. Enormund was acting purely on instinct and muscle memory. For every fighter at least two Orcs fell. The fighters efforts were futile against the endless supply of Orcs. They were forced to retreat back towards the Shrouded Cavern. A few fighters remained in attempt to hold the entrance while the rest went through. Once through, Enormund and the others began to barricade the hidden passage.

Together they gathered the other occupants of the Shrouded Cavern and began to evacuate them. The dwarves went years never facing a raid. Their comfort led them to stop carrying weapons throughout the colony. Their vulnerability made allowed the Orcs to massacre them with little resistance.

Screams echoed through the caves as they traveled back into the colony. It appeared as though the Orcs came in through multiple entrances. Enormund rushed home to grab what he could. Many years prior Enormund crafted himself a pair of weapons, stone knuckles. The stone knuckles were made of the hardest rock the Dwarves could mine. He crafted them into handles that wrapped around his fists to form a strong cover over his knuckles. Enormund equipped his stone knuckles and grouped up with some other dwarves nearby.

This makeshift squad of warriors began to fight their way out of the mountain. The Orcs towered over the dwarves, but the dwarves were equally as strong. They battered and cleaved Orc after Orc. The Dwarves slowly made their escape, but suffered many casualties along the way. Enormund pummeled an Orc into the ground, but as he fell he sliced Enormund’s left leg from top to bottom. As they finished off the last Orcs they could see, they noticed a shimmer of light ahead of them. Enormund limped towards it knowing they finally made it. As they exited the cavern they looked at each other realizing there was only three of them left.

Enormund was only acquaintances with the dwarves he fought beside that day. They did not know much about each other, but they did not need to. They fought together, killed together, and bled together. Every man he fought beside became his brother. Enormund could not forget the others who gave their lives fighting the Orcs. He vowed to avenge his fallen brothers.

The three men fled to the closest neighboring colony. They told the elders and the council how their colony was massacred. A few other dwarves joined them in their testimony. They all shared the same violent stories and animosity for the Orcs. The surviving members of the colony became known as heroes for their efforts. They banded together to bring the fight back to the Orcs. The other clans named surviving squad of dwarves The Veiled Vindicators. Within a fortnight they began their quest of vengeance.