Brassius Fierefiz

Brassius Portrait

Brassius is a Mountain Dwarf Paladin from the Starkad States. He has spent the majority of his life working as a miner, but still has skills as a fighter as well. Brassius relies on his own self-made code of honour that he developed for himself in a time of crisis. However, after spending the last eighteen years of life working in a Kasmiran mine, he has all but forgotten his vows to himself. After being fired, Brassius is often seen drifting about Kasmiran towns, causing trouble for tavern-owners. Brassius has an easy time getting along with his fellow tavern-goers, and has spent years living amongst his fellow miners, both in the Starkad States and Kasmira. However, he lacks purpose and motivation, aside from a hidden lust for vengeance.

## The Fierefiz Dynasty

The Fierefiz Dynasty is an ancient Dwarven dynasty that has existed for thousands of years. Originally an offshoot of the powerful Bardock dynasty, the clan quickly grew to prominence as one of the strongest warrior clans in the states, and at one point held a significant amount of territory. Over time, the warrior culture of the dynasty has faded as the clan acquired significant mining and agricultural provinces during the unification, however, the warrior archetypes are still present in the coat of arms.

Now, the dynasty is divided into several small families that own small mining outposts across the Eastern Mountains. This is with the exception of Agnus’ family, which owns the vast Mordred mines, effectively making Agnus the head of the clan. Agnus and his descendants are essentially the only Fierefiz dynasty members with any significant say in the politics of the region. As with all dynasties in the Starkad States, the Fierefiz dynasty utilises polygamous marriage, wherein a male can have a primary wife and several concubines. Unlike most societies, a concubine is still viewed as a fairly prestigious position in Starkad culture, as long as it is to a powerful ruler. The Fierefiz Family tree can be seen on the left. The asterisks over certain members’ names mean that they are technically born to a concubine. Though the culture still asserts the father’s primary wife as the true mother.

## The Mordred Mines

To the East of the Starkad States, creating to border of the monster kingdoms, are the Eastern mountains. These mountains in some areas contain an abundance of ores and minerals essential to Starkad culture. Iron, graphite, tin, copper, zinc, gold, silver and a great array of gemstones can be found in these mines. Usually, these mines have been excavated over thousands of years, meaning they reach chasmically deep levels. The Starkad States warrior culture requires substantial amount of mining output. Gold and silver are essential for money, and refined steel is used for weapons and armour. Brass and gems are used for the decoration of armours and weapons, while bronze, though ineffective, sometimes acts as a prestige metal. Given the intense militarism of the States, the most sought after metals are mithril and adamantium, which are extremely rare even in the most plentiful mines. Often, miners in the deep will get through the monotony of their work due to the small hope that they’ll discover a nugget of mithril and make their fortune.

The Mordred Mines are located next to the Mordred Mountains, a stretch of mountains over the Eastern Mountains. Specifically, the mines are located on the Ridge Valley, a large plateau on the edge of the mountains that has suitable grounds for agriculture. This is the demesne of Agnus, who rules from the overlooking Fierefiz Heimr. This great structure is carved into the mountain, and is the main gathering place for all guild matters. Agnus rules as supreme owner of the mine, but is specifically focused on the valley and agricultural matters. The mines are managed by his sons. In his old age, most of Agnus' administrative responsibilities have been overtaken by his wife, Sawodrid. The ridge valley works on a redistributive economy, wherein the harvests of peasants and serfs are collected by the Iron Guard, and stored in the Heimr. The Lion’s share of this harvest is sent down to the mines for the workers; the peasants receive little payment for their work. Agnus and Sawodrid also trade for large portions of grain and food from other regions to assist their own supply. The peasants live in small stone houses, often built or carved into the mountains. The valley gets devilishly cold at night.

At the centre of the Heimr is a large platform that is descended and ascended by a gigantic pulley system crafted by the ancients. This creation is known as “The Hellevator.” It is able to withstand the gargantuan weight of all the mine’s output, as well as the food being sent down. For the Benthonic Depths, the elevator is the only way to get down, unlike in the Upper Mines, where workers can use the Great Steps. This means that miners sent down to those depths must remain there for at least a month when the production is collected. However, it is common for miners to spend several years in the dark.

The Upper Mines is colloquially known as “The Soup” by miners from the Benthonic Depths. This is used as a disparaging remark to emphasize the relatively high level of oxygen in the uppermines. There is a rivalry between the two mines, with miners from the Benthonic Depths believing their work to be harder and more dangerous. The Upper Mines are overseen by Bastoul, who is Agnus’ oldest son. These mines produce general metals, and contains two developed mining towns, known as Shackleton and Mobilus, with Mobilus being the more elevated of the two. Miners spend days working on foot, boring into the sides of the cavern, and using complex mine carts to move large amounts of material. The more specialised miners abseil to the roofs of the cavern, accessing previously ignored deposits. Large sacks are built into the backs of the suspended chairs, allowing for the depositing of minerals. Bastoul lives in the Bronze Hall, in Shackleton.

The Hellevator descends deeper into the Benthonic depths, following a long, narrow shaft. Unlike the upper mines, this region was not excavated, and is rather a chasmic cavern of the underdark, discovered about a thousand years ago. Only the most specialised miners are sent here. The only land on which to stand is a small ridge to the West. Here, the mining town of Infernus lies. It is named after the intense heat created by the city. Due to lack of land on which to build, refineries are extremely condensed alongside the miner’s quarters. Miners have the discomfort of sleeping in extreme heat, and working in the brutal cold of The Chasm, suspended from the ceiling. The Brass Hall lies in this town, with none of the splendour of its upper counterpart. As previously mentioned, the depths have a lack of oxygen. Unlike the Drow, dwarves are not adapted for these conditions, so it is common for long time miners to develop “Hot Lung.”

Over the chasm lies a great tunnel of absolute darkness, perceivable only by the Drow. This is known by the miners as “The Muderous Slope.” The Drow collective has lived on the ridge for thousands of years and has opposed Dwarven presence since the Chasm was discovered. Early on, the workers learned to stay away from the ridge. The gems and minerals of the deep are viewed by the Drow as their possessions, and Drow gathering groups will attack mining groups on sight.

The Benthonic Deep contains ore, but due to the fact that most miners can only gather them from suspended positions, it is difficult to acquire these heavy metals. Hence, the main resource is the extracted gemstones. There are two types of miners in the deep. “Suspenders,” are the miners who abseil from the ceiling and mine to the top. The rope positions are called “Pitons.” They are held up by large metal pitons that are driven into the rock above. Suspenders are specialised miners; they must mine the ceiling without destroying their pitons grip on the ceiling. Dwarves who fail to do this are treated with a fatal fall that lasts for hours. Initially, daisy chain ropes were made among miners to combat this. However, under the weight of the falling piton this could lead to massive chains falling, resulting in catastrophic loss. Miners reach their position through “rising carts,” mine cart systems built into the side of the chasm. These crowded carts carry workers to their pitons, and also carry out their findings.

The second type of miner is known as a “Scavenger.” These miner-warriors travel in small groups, navigatating and mapping long tunnels in the chasm’s sides, searching for gem deposits. This is the most dangerous profession in the Mordred Mines. Getting lost will lead to starvation, and it is also easy to fall amongst unsteady ground. The worst fates are reserved for those who fail to fight off Drow horders, who wander the tunnels searching for the rare edible plants of the Underdark. Brutalised dwarven corpses are often discovered amongst the tunnels, or the remains of a group that lost their bearing. Creating landmarks and using maps are essential for this job.

Agnus’ second son, Gingalain, who is father of Brassius, used to manage this demesne, however, it has since been taken over by Caradoc, Brassius’ brother. Both the Upper Mines and Benthonic deep utilise a redistributive system, where ore is deposited in large storage caverns. Miner wages are calculated according to their group’s findings. As these are carried up to be sold, the miner’s wages are usually sent to their families in the valley. The miners live and eat for free in Infernius.

## Backstory

### Childhood

Brassius was born at a very young age. He was the firstborn son of Gingalain and Sideni, and was delivered in the Brass Hall, from which he got his name. In honour of his birth, Gingalain gave to him a garnet ring containing a trace of Mithril. This item would signify his noble status. His younger brother Caradoc was born seven years later. In his earliest years, he spent all of his time in Infernius in the sweltering heat. He didn’t know the light for many years. His mother was about the only woman he ever knew, as the the workers of the Deep were almost exclusively male. The miner’s children and wives lived in the Ridge Valley above, and were absent from their families for several years at a time. Brassius, as the heir of Gingalain, was forced to live in his demesne, with the only other child being his brother. The low ceilings of worker houses, and the metal screeching of the refineries made for a very depressing and boring childhood. For the sake of allieving boredom, Brassius would partake in as many work activies as he could. He quickly befriended some of the miners, and they allowed him to help carry gems and minerals from the rising carts. During this time, he also developed a deep bond with his brother as the only two children.

Brassius longed to work in the chasm, and spent most of his time daydreaming about the Suspenders and Scavengers, however, he was too young to undertake these specialised jobs. Despite this, Gingalain still had plans for sons, and wanted to prepare them for their inheritance. He organised an education for them by the most experienced miners, who taught them combat, mapping, mining and refining.

The first time he saw the light he was seven years old, and his brother was a baby. Every ten years the Fierefiz reuinion was held. This was the only time he would leave the mines. Brassius immediately understood why the Upper Mines were called “The Soup.” The sheer amount of oxygen left him dizzy, and it felt to him like a solid object constantly surrounding him. The Hellevator paused here to pick up Bustoul and his family. This was the first time Brassius met his 42 year old cousin Fibar. Even more than the miners, Brassius looked up to him. Despite his age, he had honed himself into a great warrior, and was one of the most intelligent miner minors in the entirety of the mines. The Hellevator continued upward, and from the Heimr, Brassius first saw sunlight. It was so bright that for the first week of the month-long visit who could not see outside. Here he met his grandfather Agnus for the first time, and his grandmother Sawodrid. A month of festivity and reunion began, with Fierefiz members travelling great distances to the valley. Brassius spent most of the time sneaking out of family events to receive swordsmanship training from Fibar. The two grew closer, and Brassius would be greatly inspired by Fibar throughout his life.

The month rushed by quickly, and soon Brassius was plunged back into the Benthonic Depths for another ten years. When he was fifteen, he was finally given the chance to evolve his mining skills. Experienced Suspenders would take him over the Chasm daily to teach the minutiae of mining the ceilings. As the heir of Gingalain, he was roped to five other miners at all times and could only mine in the most secure pitons. This made the experience greatly restrictive, and Brassius still felt as though his father was restricting his options. The boredom he felt as a child turned to resentment in his teenage years. Further, his bond with Caradoc was loosened. While as children they spent all their time together, now Brassius spend most of time with older miners. The years rolled by slowly in darkness and heat.

Brassius was seventeen by the time he ascended to the surface for the second time. Years of longing to see Fibar again were sated, and it was technically Caradoc’s first time meeting him. The three spent almost all their time training together, with Fibar teaching them the finer points of fighting. By this point, Fibar had been made an honorary knight of the realm for his skill with the blade, and had left the mines on many an occasion to engage in quests. The upper mines are more easily exited due to the Great Steps. He was a bona fide hero now, and upon seeing the excellence of his cousin, Brassius’ resentment of his restrictive father and his dreary life in the depths grew. The beauty of the valley was immense, now that he could actually see it. An entire world of the surface lay before him, that he had little hope of ever seeing.

### Teenage Years

After years of education at the hands of the most experienced miners of the deep, Brassius was essentially qualified to work with the skilled suspenders over the chasm. His father’s authority was lessening, and he refused to be roped to other miners anymore. After the great catastrophes of the past with large chains of miners falling to their deaths, it was viewed as a selfish and amateurish maneourevre. Brassius was desperate to be accepted as an equal after years of isolation. He worked as a suspender alongside the other dwarves day and night, ignoring his father’s commands and neglecting his ceremonial duties as the inheritor of the deep. During this time, he became infatuated with the scavengers. These were the closest to heroes like Fibar that could be found in the deep. His father would never allow him to enter the tunnels yet though.

It was during this period from years 18-25 that the true importance their inheritance hit the two brothers. Under Fierefiz tradition, the vast majority of the desmesne would fall to Brassius as the oldest son. The two slowly drifted apart more. Caradoc felt abandoned, left in the empty Brass Hall, waiting for Brassius to return from his mining day.

At age 27, it was Brassius’ third time visiting the surface. On this third trip, Gingalain organised for them to remain a week in the Upper Mines, as it was years since he had seen his brother. Brassius and Caradoc were initially thrilled as it meant that they would be able to spend more time with Fibar. These hopes were immediately quelled when they learned he was adventuring to the West of the States, and would not be present. During his time in the upper mines, Brassius quickly learnt why Benthonic Deep miners would so often disparage “Soupworkers.” The hacking and mining lacked all of the minutiae and meticulousness of mining in the deep. After a boring week, they finally ascended to the valley for a month. Against his father’s wishes, Brassius spent most of the time adventuring out into the mountains by himself. His lacklustre climbing skills left him coming home covered with cuts and bruises. Still, he was determined to explore and see the outer world. His absence from nearly all ceremonial aspects of the reunion certainly disgruntled his grandparents. Caradoc too, felt left out, now without Fibar or Brassius. The two had become deifinitively estranged by this point. Agnus and Sawodrid secretly noted Brassius’ recklessness, and wondered whether he would be a suitable heir to the depths.

At 29, Brassius made his first foray into the tunnels. Gingalain would still not allow him to enter the tunnels willinglingly, so Brassius disguised himself as a member of an outgoing group, and joined them on the rising carts. He kept to himself for the trip, walking along with the group. He quickly learned that the squad was mainly filled with miner-warriors. Two leaders at the front, a cartographer and a navigator, where the exception. The group was silent for most of the time, which allowed Brassius to blend in easily during the trip. A slight noise could echo throughout the tunnels for miles, where drow skulked about, looking for prey. Through a week of travel, they found only two depostis of gems, which was considered a decent hall. Brassius was infatuated with how the leaders could navigate using labrythine drawings and minute landmarks. Day and night was unclear in the depths, but over time all dwarves had developed an intrinsic understanding of the daily cycle. It was on the tenth night when Brassius awoke to his first real fight. A small group of Drow had ambushed the group, instantly killing the cartographer and another miner. Fear gripped Brassius’ heart, but this was also the moment he had spent his entire childhood dreaming of. Grasping his Morningstar, the first being he ever killed was a drow fighter. He struck him from behind as he was engaging another dwarf. A brutal melee ensued. Of the 15-large group, nine lived, with three severely wounded. Brassius himself had received a long deep cut, going right down his left leg. He still carries the grisly scar today. Whilst inspecting the wound, the navigator finally noticed who he was. Due to their unexpected stowaway and the severe wounds received by his men, the navigator decided they must abort the expedition immediately. It took them ten days to travel as deep as they had, but with their wounded, it took almost twenty days to reach the chasm again.

Gingalain was furious. The navigator, who was called Tarius, was exiled from the mines for his ignorance. Brassius himself was locked up in the local penitentiary for five nights as punishment, even while his leg was wounded. But Brassius had taken his first blood, and his appetite for adventure would not be stopped now.

Walking with a limp until he was 31, eventually his grisly wound healed, and he could be an effective worker once again. Only now, he would not return to being a suspender. From his childhood Brassius had developed extensive relationships with the miners of the deep. Due to his extreme desire for companionship, he developed a natural charm, and constantly tried to win the affection and respect of his fellow workers. Despite his youth, after years of training and tutorage from the Hero Fibar, the scavengers could not neglect his skill. Disguised, he would continue to partake in scavenger expeditions throughout his thirties. Gingalain knew he was continuing to explore, but could not locate the groups that were accommodating him. Brassius was extra careful to ensure nobody else would be exiled because of him. Most expeditions were extremely uneventful; days walking through dark and monotous tunnels. However, the thrill of a fight erupting kept Brassius alert. He spent most of the time using his charisma to learn from the navigators and cartographers, talking in hushed tones through the echoing tunnels.

During Caradoc’s youth he had taken a different focus. After initially learning to mine while trying to follow Brassius’ footsteps, his brother’s recklessness and continued abandonement of him had left him resentful. Further, he was distraught that him being a mere seven years younger had lost him the great inheritance of the deep. Whilst Brassius was out exploring, Caradoc remained in the Brass hall, performing ceremonial functions and assisting his father in the ceremonial and administrative aspects of his rule. In this way, Caradoc hoped to work off his father’s disapproval of Brassius, and make himself the more appealing candidate for inheritance. Unfortunately for him, at the time Starkadian custom still assured Brassius as the successor.

When Brassius was 35, his mother, after undergoing a four year long pregnancy gave birth to a younger son called Beck. After the divisions in the family, the new child brought the family closer together, with the exception of Brassius. As a child, he at least had the company of Caradoc. His new brother and the dreary life ahead of him was depressing to Brassius, and he preferred to distance himself from his younger brother. As a result Beck had a much closer relationship to Caradoc, as he was almost always present in the Brass hall.

By the age of 37, Brassius travelled up to the surface for the fourth time in his life. The experience of seeing the light, and experiencing the richness of the oxygen still carried the same effect as before. He had only spent 3 months of his life on the surface so far. Fibar, now a fully-fledged knight of the States no longer lived in the upper mines. He had officially delegated his inheritance to his younger sister Faunus, who would be replaced by a male heir if Bustoul if he could produce another. Fibar perfectly embodied the life Brassius wished to have; to travel through the tunnels of the Bentholic depths required a great deal of nerve, but Fibar’s adventures on the surface sounded perfect to him. However, he knew his father would never let him renounce his inheritance. The only reason Fibar could was because he had received a more honourable position as a champion of the realm.

It was on this monthly visit that Fibar told Brassius his designs. He planned to leave the States in secret to Braithsteinn, in search of adventure. He would refuse his knightly status, and leave forever. At first Brassius was shocked, and initially threatened to blackmail him by revealing his plans to Agnus. As someone who had spent his whole life in the Underdark, he could not comprehend how the lands of the Starkad States could not be enough to explore. However, as Fibar explained his plans and desires further, Brassius agreed to let him go. And so he left.

During this time, Caradoc continued to improve his legitimacy as a ruler, dutifully performing the ceremonial roles Brassius neglected. Caradoc desperately desired to impress his grandparents. However, it was quickly becoming clear that Agnus did not hold the same power he used to. He was 373 years old, decrepid and aging. His memory could barely last a conversation. In his mental absence, Sawodrid spoke more often and frequently. She herself was an adept political maneourverer.

By 40 years old, Brassius was almost indistinguishable from a regular scavenger. His time at the Brass Hall was so limited, he could hardly have said to have been a noble anymore. He had become a charismatic fighter, with a burgeoning ability to navigate the tunnels. He spent months at a time in expeditions, delving deeper and deeper. His position was so solidified he didn’t even have to hide his involvement in expeditions to his father anymore.

### Capture by Drow and Escape

By 45 he had become a navigator and cartographer capable of leading his own squads. He recklessly led his groups deeper and depper into Drow territory. He had learnt the Drow speech, and was eager to recreate the wars of the surface amidst his own contained environment of the depths. However, with such arrogance, eventually Brassius had to taste defeat. Much like his first battle, a night-time ambush of elite drow warriors led to the collapse of his band. Of the 30 strong, only 4 survived. Brassius specifically was taken alive, as the Drow knew of his importance as a ransoming tool, and many of their men had fallen to his warband.

The Drow refused to keep him on the Murderous slopes, as they feared it was too close to the Dwarven settlements. A remote outpost known as Caelkoth was chosen as his prison. A dingy cell carved into the ground would be his home for the next five years. Initially, the drow tried to ransom him. A negotiator was sent to Infernius, to treaty with Gingalain. Despite his son’s rebelliousness, Gingalain still retained a strong love for his child. Caradoc, secretly, was overjoyed with news of his brother’s capture, believing this would be his chance to inherit the depths if he was killed. The negotiator demanded the relinquishment of Gingalian of his demesne. The Drow wanted their lands back, and after years of trying to stop the dwarves from harvesting their environment, believed this was their chance to remove them once and for all. The negotiator refused to settle for any deal aside from the Dwarves immediate abandonement of their settlement in the Benthonic Depths. Gingalain could not accept such a deal. The political dishonour would ruin the family, to lose such a valuable mine for one person.

With Caradoc’s encouragement, he refused the deal. Completely unaware of this and locked in the dark, Brassius wasted away. The meagre portions of cave vegetation could barely sustain Brassius’ Dwarven diet. Brassius had slain so many Drow, that his imprisoners’ hatred for him was immense. Now that his usefulness as a political tool had expired, family members of Brassius’ slain enemies would be invited to his cell to torment him. Brassius still has whipping scars lining his back. By the time Brassius was 47 he had spent two years locked up. Unknowst to him, his family had travelled up the hellevator to the Heimr. Here, Gingalain officially designated Caradoc as his successor in the presence of the bed-ridden Agnus. The Feirefiz dynasty had assumed him to be dead. The next three years passed in darkness.

During this time Brassius was trapped with his own guilt. His actions had led to the death of his entire warband, his continued disobedience of his father and his ignorance of his helpless younger brother Beck. Unknowing of Caradoc’s hatred of him, he deeply wished to return to Infernius and reconcile with his brother. He even began to sympathise with the drow. Seeing the weeping faces of the sons and wives of his victims, made him realise that he had divered from Fibar’s heroic path early on. During his containment, Brassius kept himself sane by concocting his own chivalric code, a law of goodness that he vowed to stick to if he should ever be freed from his captivity. Though throughout his life Brassius had never been typically religious (there was little time for praying in the depths), Brassius filled his time by repeating his devotion to Ioryx, wishing for his soul to be cleansed of his misdeeds. Brassius’ chivalric code consisted of five main points.

1.     One must always protect his allies before himself

2.     One must always respect their family, above all else

3.     One must only use violence when it is necessary, not for the sake of avaricious conquest

4.     One must only adventure for the good of the world, not for personal satisfaction

5.     One must never obstruct their judgement through temporal pleasures

Brassius didn’t know it, but he was 52 years old when he had finally escaped. He had missed his Dwarven coming of age ceremony. By this point, the years of malnourishment had made him gaunt and frail. His torment had ended a few years ago, the only Drow who remembered him where the ones who brought his meagre rations. His last few years imprisonment hadn’t been entirely idle, however. After years of mining and navigating, Brassius had discovered through the acoustics of the cell, a particular point led to an open cavern in the distance, unknown the Drow. The Drow, with no access to wood, always served him his food in a metallic bowl. With this over the years, he slowly chiseled as the wall. Such was his dedication to escape, that he spent every idle moment sitting in front of his hole, in case a guard should walk in. It was fortunate that this point his torment had ended, so he could constantly guard his escape route.

It was surreal when after four years of tunnelling, he finally saw through the gaps an open space. A month later, he had carved out a hole that he could fit through. His starvation had been good for one thing. He waited until the last guard checkup of the day (nothing could shake his internal body-clock after living his entire life underground) and cautiously entered into the space. The familiar appearance of the Benthonic Tunnel was a sight he never thought he would be happy to see.

The single most essential rule any scavenger had ever told Brassius was to never set foot down an unknown tunnel. Even under attack by Drow the scavengers would rather fight than risk getting lost in the tunnel complex. In this instance, Brassius had to make an exception. His movement was so impaired after years of withering in the dungeon, yet he had to make decent ground before the Drow guards noticed he was gone. Picking a direction, Brassius set off as fast as he could physically go.

After a day’s travel, Brassius was certain nobody could follow him through the complex. But now he had the issue of finding food and water. It was entirely possible he could freeze to death as well. The tunnels were warmer than the Great Chasm at least, but could still reach high temperatures, and Brassius had no clothing but the rags he had been given when he was first imprisoned. The first task was to find water. With the echoing tunnels carrying sound for miles around, locating an underground stream wasn’t incredibly difficult. After a day of searching Brassius got lucky and located a stream, which was fortunate because he was beginning to become dehyrdrated. The next priority was to find food. The only source of food in the underdark was the few edible plants one could find growing sparsely. Under the Mordred mountains, the most common of these was a spiked, foul-tasting plant called Styroot. Brassius’ diet had consisted of these for the last six years. However, during his time as a scavenger he had searched for it several times as a means of bolstering food supply.

Fortunately, Brassius kept the metal bowl (which had been chiselled down to about a quarted of its size) with him. He found himself to be very rusty with his cartography skills, but using his bowl to carve landmarks, notes and maps on the walls, he was able to foray out into the tunnels and find Styroot, whilst still being able to make it back to his water source. The next priority was to find extra clothing. He’d never be able to recuperate from his time in the dungeon if his body kept on burning energy due to the cold. After six years his rags were extremely degraded, he was essentially naked. And unfortunately, the only way to acquire clothing was to steal it from a patrolling Drow, and they only travelled in packs. He would need to be very lucky.

Over time, he formulated a plan. He knew he wasn’t far enough from the Drow outpost where he was imprisoned for patrols to be able to reach him. He also knew the echoing sound of the stream would eventually attract attention.

For four days he sat by the stream, living off the small surplus of styroot he had acquired, waiting and listening. Eventually, footsteps could be heard in the distance. Brassius had enough time to tell that it was five individuals, which was very small for a Drow party. He had gotten very lucky. As they travelled toward the stream Brassius got in position.

As the five got closer he readied himself, taking a deep breath and submerged himself remaining in the darkness corner of the stream.

Each Drow took their turn to drink from the stream and fill their bottle. One benefit of spending his life underground was that he could hold his breath for a substantial time. Such little oxygen was present in the underdark anyway. Through the grime of the water, he counted as four of the drow drank from the stream, filled their waterskins and washed their faces. Then, as the fifth took his drink, Brassius carefully stepped closer, and waited until the Drow put their face in the water.

With all his remaining strength, Brassius surged forward, locking his arms around the drows shoulders and hauling him downward until his head stuck around his stomach height. At the same time he held his own head above and gasped for oxygen. The footsteps of the leaving Drow continued down the tunnel. Brassius pushed forward again, so that the Drow’s legs were held up in the air. It was essential that his flailing legs din’t kick anything to make noise. With his right hand, he cupped the Drow’s mouth, leaving only muffled underwater screams. He held his position until the Drow stopped struggling, and then waited another ten minutes until he was certain the Drow had left. Being that he was so close to their outpost, Brassius assumed they though their fifth member had taken a different route home.

Though Brassius wouldn’t have agreed at the time, this was technically his first betrayal of his vows. Vow Two stated that he must not use violence unless necessary, and not for the sake of his own personal greed. It would be much later until he realised the gravity of what he had done, but in his survival mindset, his taking of the Drow’s life felt as natural as ever.

However, his prospects had greatly increased now that he had possession of the Drow’s belongings. He had a shortsword, a sizeable amount of rations, clothing, and most importantly. The shortsword would immediately be useful for the sake of carving maps.

Now that Brassius had a relatively stable situation, with access to means of survival, he could set out on his goal of finding his way home. Over the course of several years, he worked his work back into his cycle of work, mapping and exploring the tunnels. Every night he would rack his brains for the earliest landmarks and notches he had made before his capture 12 years prior.

Brassius was 57 years old, now a full Dwarven man, though still skinnier than he was when he was a teenager, when the first sign of hope appeared. A double notch on a tunnel wall, indicating a second point of rest in a day’s journey. It looked as though it had been made by a Dwarven blade. After such a long time Brassius had almost forgotten what his parents’ faces looked like, let alone his brothers. Spurred on by hope, over the next month Brassius made substantial progress. Now that he found a sign, he could link back up to the original mapping system he had spent ten years developing. The walls and maps were notched into his brain as like the walls. Once he had made to the inner regions of his explorations, all he had to do was travel the remaining distance. It was unbelievable to see The Great Chasm once again.

### Return and Accusation

The walk through Infernius was one of extreme remembrance. The heat was worse than Brassius had ever felt it before, after years living in the cold. The town had expanded since he was last there but not by much. There were many new faces in the town, many old, but none could recognise him. Brassius supposed with his raggedy appearance and gaunt physique he looked more like one of the squatters or homeless of the town. Miners who were unable to work due to an accident, and were forced to live on the streets until the Hellevator descended for its monthly pick-up. The familiar streets reeked of memory as Brassius paced the imposing steps leading up to the Brass Hall.

With his remaining strength he shoved the double doors open and stepped into the hall. He caught his father mid-conversation, as Gingalain turned to him his expression turning from expectation to remembrance and then to grief. He rushed across the hall to embrace his son.

News of Brassius’ return spread across the town like wildfire. His old mining compatriots rushed to the Bronze Hall to see him, and all hailed and thanked Ioryx for the miracle. His return caused mixed responses among his family. Brassius’ mother Sideni, was overjoyed, and could not believe his survival. His younger brother Beck had been only ten years when Brassius was imprisoned and now was 18. Brassius could understand if Beck didn’t remember him, but oddly enough, Brassius did not seem to receive any warmth from his younger brother at his return. He tried to hide his disappoint, as one of his main motivations keeping him alive was his desire to finally connect with his younger brother.

Caradoc, though, seemed to have the opposite effect. Despite there estrangement before Brassius’ imprisonment, Caradoc was elated to see him again, and refused to leave his side while he recuperated.

The taste of true Dwarven meat reaching his mouth was once again was his greatest pleasure, though it was some time until his stomach could accept it again. At this time, Brassius vowed to his father to never again enter the tunnels, and would devote himself fully to his family and their legacy.

All seems well, doesn’t it? Perhaps you should reread the chapter title. For Caradoc had spent the last eight years under the knowledge that he would ascend the throne. He had received Agnus’ (who was beyond ancient by this point) official blessing and had finally achieved the inheritance he had spent so much of his life striving for. But now, his brother had somehow returned from the dead. This was why Beck was disgruntled at his return. With nobody to connect to but his brother, the youth had spent his childhood being completely indoctrinated by his older brother. He was convinced that Brassius was unsuitable for the throne, and that Caradoc was the only legitimate inheritor.

But the single tipping point of the whole affair for Caradoc was Gingalain’s response. After so many years at his side, working with him, helping him and the family whilst Brassius was in the tunnels, Gingalain would return the inheritance to Brassius. After all the pain he had caused the family with his capture, and the loss of face the Feirefiz clan suffered in the Starkad States.

Six weeks of recuperation later, and Brassius was fully recovered. After adequate food and nourishment, he had regained much of his bulk. However, he had been malnourished during a large period of his body’s development. As a result, he began more lean compared to other dwarves, and didn’t fully expand into his muscular frame. That night a great feast was held, followed by a celebration at the local tavern. Brassius felt he had lost a certain portion of his charismatic prowess after his isolation, but quickly found that his friends from the past remembered him so fondly that he could banter with them just as easily as before. Here, technically, Brassius broke his second vow. Vow five states that he must not hinder his judgement for the sake of temporal pleasure. To put it lightly, he received more than his fair share of temporal pleasure that night. As he stumbled back to the Brass Hall, for the first time in his life, he could look upon the Infernius townscape with appreciative eyes.

This all changed when Brassius opened the doors to the Brass Hall. I’m sure you can guess what happens next right? Gingalain lay dead, draped across his Golden throne, his warm red robes doused in dark blood. A slack hand hung off the side of his throne, and his head was slumped back, eyes wide. A shortsword was impaled into his heart.

Brassius was struck out of his drunken stupor immediately and sprinted to the throne with all his might, screaming for help. He grabbed his father searching for any sign of life. It was then that he noticed something out of place. The shortsword he had been struck with was of Drow design. But more shockingly, Brassius recalled it to be his own shortsword, the one he had taken from the Drow he drowned back in the tunnels.

Mouth agape in shock, he whipped his head around when he heard the doors slam shut behind him. There stood Paradoc and Beck in mock horror, flanked by Brassguards. That was when Brassius realised, the only one who could have retrieved his drow sword was Paradoc, who remained by his side during his healing. A mountain of fury swelled up inside Brassius, but before he could speak, Paradoc stepped forward an accused him.

‘My brother, Brassius of the Fierefiz dynasty, though I am now ashamed to call you thus, your designs are now revealed to us. It appears that over the years in your weakness you finally succumbed to the Drow’s desire. Quite ridiculous it appears now, doesn’t it? That you could escape all by yourself. And now you have returned here, you indoctrinated fool, to complete their bidding, slaying your father with your Drow blade. May you find mercy in death. Guards!’

All at once, five Brassguards drew their spears and marched towards Brassius. Cursing his brothers under his breath, he stepped back, drawing the Drow blade from his poor father’s chest. A thrust came in from above, which he deftly parried, and a second from below which he rolled away from, coming to the door to his parent’s quarters. Wedging the blade against the door. Almost immediately the force of a Brassguard rushed into the door, bending the blade, but the door held. He rushed into the room and immediately noticed his mother Sideni, struggling whilst tied up against a chair in a corner. Brassius ran over and undid her gag. As he rushed to untie she protested.

‘No, no, Brassius, there is no time. Your brothers, they will come for you but they have no murderous intent for me. I was just tied up so as to not interfere in their plans. Your father had a secret passage built into the wardrobe for emergencies, if you run through there, they will not follow!’

Brassius hastily put the gag back on, and rushed to the wardrobe and entered. Inside, towards the bottom an small knob lay. He twisted, and the back wall slid open, revealing a descending staircase. Brassius stepped in and closed the door behind him, just as he heard the snap of the blade breaking and the door bursting open.

The passage led out into the street, where drunken miners still revelled in the streets. Brassius ran to a nearby clothesline and covered himself in robes, concealing his face. Making sure not to attract attention, he made his way over to the transport hub where the tracks to the rising carts lay. There, he entered one, and set it off across the chasm. Confused dwarves turned as the cart shot off seemingly at random. As the rattling cart set off across the gaping abyss, Brassius desperately tried to contain his nerves as well as his anger. He at least knew where he should hide. Nearing a tunnel entrance he left the cart and rushed in. These areas he knew so well he could sprint through without fear.

Brassius knew he has to leave the Mordred Mines as soon as possible. The only way out was through the Hellevator which only descended once per month. To Brassius’ count, only five days remained until its next visit. He moved deeper into the tunnels as he knew his brother would send scavengers in after him; most likely his friends so as to deepen the wound. For the next five days Brassius remained in the tunnels, staying clear of any footsteps he could hear down the way.

Upon the fifth day he headed. back to the entrance point towards. From his vantage point he could see the Hellevator over near Infernius, with food and produce being unloaded, and large open-barrels filled with gemstones being loaded on. They had to leave enough space for the upper mines material as well. Brassius’ cart was still where he left it, so he hopped on and took off towards the Hellevator.

Paradoc was overconfident, Brassius thought, continuing to move goods while he was still a fugitive. The hustle and bustle of the hauling of goods also made his cover easier. Staying low, he rushed over to the Hellevator and hurled himself into one of the gem-filled barrels, burying himself in the riches. There he remained for some time, until suddenly, the ground lurched upward, and slowly began to move towards the long dark shaft in the ceiling.

As the Hellevator creakingly moved upwards, Brassius peeked out the side of the Barrel. Standing guard on the Hellevator were four Brass guards, clearly stationed to inform the upper-mines of what had happened below. Brassius was almost glad Fibar had left all those years ago, so that he would never believe Paradoc’s lies.

With a cacophonous thud, the Hellevator reached the upper mines. Dwarves on either side immediately set to work, loading up the platform with ore. As the crowd engulfed the platform, Brassius leapt from the barrel, and snuck away, avoiding the Brass Guard’s sight. Fortunately, it would be some time before his fugitive status would be made apparent to the others. However, he couldn’t wait on the Hellevator much longer, he had to make his way to the Great Steps. He had never spent much time in the upper mines, but racking his brains to thirty years prior, he was able to make his way to the great steps. They lay before him in their intimidating splendour.

Brassius’ calves burned as he hauled himself up the steep steps, once at a time. It was no easy task to make it up there, to the point where most dwarves in the upper-mines only used the Hellevator. The steps were mainly there for emergencies. After two hours of climbing, Brassius was still only halfway there. The fiery mining towns of Shackleton and Mobilus lay below him. The grand Iron Hall was also visible, where his uncle was likely hearing fabricated tales of Brassius’ betrayal.

However, he had to push on. If he was lucky, Caradoc would still think him to be in the depths. He continued the climb desperately for the next three hours, finally reaching top steps that lead to the grand hall of the Heimr. The balcony lay ahead, giving a magnificent view of the valley and the descending sun in the distance. However, even the evening glare was blinding to Brassius’ eyes. It had been twenty years since he had last been on the surface, but he could hardly accept the gravity of his situation.

He powered down the steps of the Heimr to the valley, where peasants and serfs worked to produce food for the miners. They had just finished their grand harvest, and were awaiting the great task that lay ahead of them; to unload all the material to be brought up from the mines. Already, merchants and traders from across the Starkad states had arrived, in vast caravans, filled with goods and coins to exchange for the materials. These men awaited the minerals to be sold on the free market. Officials from the Starkad government also awaited, eager to receive their tribute from the mine. Little of the riches would end up back in the hands of the miners.

Brassius made his way through the mountainous towns and carved out homesteads towards a great encampment of merchants near the entrance to the valley. Donkeys, mules and wagons lined the hills as Brassius searched for one of the smaller collections. A moustached Dwarf looked up lazily as Brassius approached. He requested immediate passage out of the valley. He needed to leave the Starkad States as soon as possible, and so he requested that the merchant bring him to the port of Brinos, on the Southern coast of the States. The merchant initially scoffed. In order to pay for the loss of profit, Brassius placed down his garnet ring he had since birth, with a trace of Mithril. Even this small trace could afford him passage all the way to Brinos.

The travel was several weeks, during which Brassius kept to himself mainly. Unwilling to bring any heat to himself, he remained in his wagon, cowl over himself to reduce suspicion. Despite his cautiousness, Brassius could not keep himself from being awestruck by the passing scenery. This was the first time Brassius had ever seen the majesty of his homeland outside of the Vale. The sprawling hills and mountains, bustling town steads and green fields encapsulated him for the length of the journey. With regard to leaving the Starkad States he had few options. The Daedalonian mainland despised dwarves, and they weren’t exactly welcome in Kasmira or Aellinia.

He pondered travelling to Braithstein, but the region’s extreme lack of lore turned him away. Their ruler Varvellius despised all lore, and so the region was essentially a blank slate.

With no funds left to his name, Brassius had no choice but to stowaway aboard a ship on Brinos. As the small port town, Brassius had no time to enjoy the view of the sea. Nor was he able to feel uneasy about his first time travelling on this unfamiliar alien plane. Now he cursed himself for not travelling to port of the north of the States. There he would be able to access the Dwarven region of Stoneloft. Begrudgingly, he stowed himself aboard a ship heading to Aellinia.

### Time in Aellinia and Kasmira

By this point of his life, Brassius was entirely used to spending extended periods of time in cramped spaces. Thus, for the next week Brassius remained in the brig, awaiting his arrival in Aellinia. It was more so the seasickness that made the trip painful. The uneven rocking of the ship was many times worse than the rattling of the rising carts. Unable to conceal his retching, he was discovered about halfway into the trip by a crewmate. Fortunately, they marked him as a simple stowaway, and the captain was a benevolent man, unwilling to throw him overboard. Instead, Brassius remained tied up in the brig, receiving small rations until the ship finally made its way to the Aellinian.

As the Starkadian ship finally docked, two crewmates threw Brassius out onto the open shore of Ludus island, to which he was met with an astounding sight. The green trees of Aellinia grew higher than any of those in the Starkad States. And even more shocking where the elves, slender and pale-skinned. Their tongue involved sounds Brassius had never conceived of before. It appeared that he was finally following in the footsteps of Fibar, though not in the way he imagined. It was a bitter moment as he finally achieved his childhood dreams in the background of family tragedy.

Brassius stumbled through the town, getting weird looks from the inhabitants, with no money to his name. Here in the story enters another character. Leofaren was an elvish entrepreneur from the Central Plains, looking to gain some trading profits, and also to recruit young village boys to work in his mines. At 600 years old, Leofaren was extremely good at what he did, and could easily appraise the boys from strongest to weakest. He could tell which were worth paying a wage. But his pace halted when he saw the dishevelled Brassius stumbling through the streets. In his entire lifetime he had very few dwarves work for him, as they were so rare in Aellinia, but he knew that they could mine well, and he felt he could easily persuade Brassius to join him in desperation. Promised work, food and shelter, Brassius agreed to join Leofaren’s entourage and travel out to the Central Plains, where the bulk of Aellinia’s mining operations were conducted.

It must be said, Leofaren was not an unfair boss, at least not by Starkadian standards. His miners worked in the sun, digging deep quarries into the ground in search of metal to be used for artistic means. Compared to Infernius, the housing was high-grade, and the scenery to work in was beautiful as opposed to the Great Chasm. However, Brassius found work here extremely unsatisfiying. He still didn’t fully trust the elves after his experience with the Drow, and found himself estranged from them. His inability to speak Aellinian also worsened matters. The only elf Brassius could really connect with was Leofaren, who was overjoyed at his find. After Brassius had spent his entire life mining, he was far more proficient than the village boys. And by this point, Brassius was so dejected that he could barely be bothered to negotiate for a higher wage. As a result, Leofaren spent every effort trying to make Brassius feel at home. However, compared to the complexity of working in the Benthonic deep, mining in the Aellinian quarries was unbearably monotonous and simplistic. Brassius worked in the quarries for four months, spending the whole time disconnected from his fellow workers. He saved his wage for long enough, and then went to Leofaren to resign. The elf offered to belatedly raise his wage, but Brassius was committed to leave the isles and find greener pastures in Kasmira, which was said to be a safe and plentiful region. Brassius travelled back to the port town where he arrived, and using a vast amount of his earnings, secured himself transport to Kasmira.

One vomit-filled journey later, and he found himself in Kasmira. These lands immediately felt much more familiar to him than Aellinia, with their sprawling green plains. The development was something Brassius had never seen before though. Fully cobbled streets lined the prosperous port town, with streetlamps lining the streets. The houses reached several stories, even in the middle-class regions. He still stood out amongst the human populace, but Brassius fitted in relatively much more than in Aellinia. Brassius still had a few gold pieces, and heard from a nearby group of immigrants that there was work in a rural magic crystal mine, which only accepted specialised miners.

He decided to join the group in their travels, and headed off to the territory of the Kasmiran Crystal Company. The pilgrimage lasted for about a month, as the group of drifters headed inward, living off the animals they could hunt. Brassius felt more comfortable amongst the human pilgrims, and for the first time in the last year could feel hopeful about his future. Eventually they reached the KKC, a deep reaching mine that was entered into through a large spiral. Humans toiled there day long, and lived in the nearby mining town. This town was most developed of all mines Brassius had worked in, with a tavern, decent housing and even a small shack with a herbalist for diseases.

The company head was a man known as Chiun Raho, who demanded excellency from all his workers. Any damaged crystals as a result of ineffective mining was met with immediate reparations. Docking pay, rescinding of housing, and random firing of miners was common. However, the mine was quite prosperous, meaning most miners were pretty desperate to keep their jobs. For Brassius, he once again found the job dull compared to his previous work. The mine was incredibly small-scale, and crowded with workers boring into the rock. It lacked any of the excitement he could gather back in the Benthonic Depths.

The monotony of the day-to-day life, and the thought of his mother, still trapped home, and his younger brother, still under the thumb of Caradoc, permeated his every thought. Many a night he awoke to visions of his father slain by the Drow blade.

The tavern at the mountain town was essential for Raho to keep his workers his happy, and it ended up being Brassius’ main living space. As a dwarf, Brassius had always drank a lot by human standards. Brought down by the monotony and pointlessness of his current life, he began to spend more and more time in the tavern. The next eighteen years passed by in this cycle; working, drinking with his mining friends, and then mining again. Vow number 5 hung in the back of his mind, but he couldn’t find the strength to reclaim his purpose.

At eighteen Brassius was a completely different person to when he was in the height of his glory. He spent his time at work lazily, and had forgotten much of his skills and abilities. Unlike his years as a miner-fighter of the Depths, now he was just a regular miner. During this time, the KCC had undergone a boom in production. The Mountain town had ascended to being a noticeable place to visit, and now merchants travelled in daily. None of this seemed to affect Brassius, as he kept on the daily grind. What was surprising to him, was the aging of his human colleagues. Over eighteen years, Brassius was still a youth and kept his abilities. However, many of his friends had grown old and unable to mine anymore.

Furthermore, Brassius and Raho’s relationship had deteriorated. Brassius was still one of the most experienced miners in the company, but he was constantly coming into work late, after drinking all night. When he did work, it was sloppy. Almost all motivation was gone.

And then, Raho made the mistake of taking him aside one night. Brassius had already been drinking heavily, and Raho approached him, demanding he take his work more seriously. In spite of twenty-six years of withering, Brassius could still pack quite a punch, and easily took Raho off his feet. Needless to say, it is not so easy for him to find work in Kasmira anymore. With hardly any friends left to say goodbye too, Brassius gathered his belongings and the small savings that he hadn’t spent on the tavern. And so he left, once again falling into the drifter lifestyle, travelling from town to town, desperately looking for work and making trouble in the taverns. At the age of 77, he made sure to have a celebratory drink in other of the time he would travel up in the Hellevator during his youth.

As of the start of the campaign, Brassius is a dishevelled looking Dwarf, who despite his relatively young age, has a face that holds hundreds of stories. At one point he was an excellent fighter, now, he retains some skill but is rusty enough to warrant him being level one.  Many scars line his body, and he still wields a Morningstar, his preferred weapon and symbolic weapon of the Fierefiz dynasty. He has gotten lazy with his mining work, but he has simply spent too much time mining for it to be possible for him to forget or lose his skill.

Now, as a reward for reading his backstory, I’m going to tell you the tale of Mr Elbow. Also, I’m at 9,900 words, and I want my backstory to be an official novella. Here goes.

Mr Elbow was a pointy man, filled full of jointy things. He took no greater pleasure than in elbowing the people of body town. Mrs Head’s head was his favourite thing to elbow for it was such a big target. The people of body town grew to hate Mr Elbow, and so they made a plan. Mr Toe got his dog to do a poo on Mrs Head’s cheek. And alas, next time Mr Elbow went to elbow Mrs Head, he got a nasty surprise on his elbow! Oh ho ho, how humorous. And then they killed him.