For some odd reason I started using Elrick instead of Ulrick. Here's the corrected submission!
Ulrick, half-orc

In The Words Of Ulrick
My lot in life seemed one of misery and misfortune. My mother's husband was a merchant and spent his years in the trade caravans buying, selling, and trading almost anything that would fetch a profit. During one particular trip through some wild territory the caravan was attacked by a tribe of orcs. The very fact that I am here tells you what happened to my mother on that fateful journey. He would not have a half breed bastard in his family, and my mother refused to get rid of me. She left him, and returned to the farmlands of her birth. I was never truly accepted in the farming community, but did gain a small measure of respect for my work ethic as a ranch hand.
Then my life changed forever. A group of men in gleaming plate armor showed up to buy some horses from my master. I watched them ride high in their saddles. The faces of bravery and confidence upon them. The colorful banners of heraldry flapping in the wind. If greatness exists in the world I knew I had been its witness on that day. I soon fashioned a sword from some scraps of wood and began to pretend that I was a knight. I played out my grand fantasy with a passion, battling evil and slaying imaginary dragons. This was not enough. I inquired with the local smith about a sword, but the wages of a ranch hand did not permit such expensive items. The smith took some sympathy on me and agreed to let me work for a sword. I cleaned his shop and tools, tended his garden, and even emptied his chamber pots. After much labor I received my reward. A simple basket handled broadsword. It had no engravings or jewels, but it was strong and sharp. I trained the best I could on my own, and found employment as a footman in the army of a regional lord. Real battle was nothing like my hours of playing in the barns and fields. I saw first hand the truth of the real world. Battle was hard on the men, but I was the best. I fought harder then those around me, barring the fangs given to me by my primitive ancestors during combat. Because I was half orc, I was never allowed to advance in the army. Fate struck again when my lord joined forces with Meric Palaran for a fierce battle. I fought harder than ever in that battle, but my lord was struck down in combat. As the enemy made a final attack in desperation I saw one of there cavalry bearing down on Meric from behind. I lunged with all the power I could and pulled him from his horse. Within seconds he had taken his last breath. When the battle was over I was without a lord, but my actions had not gone unnoticed by Meric. He believed he owed me a debt of honor, and I asked to follow him. Unlike my previous masters, Meric allowed me chances to advance.
He trained me, rewarded me, and punished me whenever the orc inside tried to surface. I owe him all that I have, and will spare no expense to find him.

Description & Personality
Ulrick stands 5'8" tall and weighs a solid 200lbs. His black, stringy hair is kept tied in a knot at the top of his head, and his eyes are dark green.
In battle Ulrick wears plate armor and wields a broadsword. When he wears a helmet it is always open faced, so he can give his foes an orcish growl.
When on his own Ulrick wears the simple clothes of a common working man. He places no great value on fancy goods, preferring to spend his spoils on weapons and books. Ulrick is friendly and somewhat quiet. He tries to be civil, and believes in the value of law, but carries a primal temper from his less civilized ancestors. This usually only arises in battle. Though he is often discriminated against, Ulrick holds no grudges, and believes that his hard work ethic can overcome people's misconceptions.

I hope you find this character acceptable.
Ron Porter

Bram Battlehammer, grandson of Bolder, blood of Rankin, of Ironstone in the <Galena Mountains>, chewed hard on his empty pipe and furrowed his brows as he shifted the weight of his pack on his shoulders. The strap was rubbing again on that old wound, and the scar itched like hell, but his mind was thinking deeper thoughts. The road ahead lay empty, it's muddy ruts broken only by the larger puddles that seemed destined to hide deeper potholes; already one of Bram's legs was wet to the knee. The wind whistled past Bram as he trudged along, tugging at his beard but otherwise flowing round him as if he was a rock. As he walked, his eyes scanned the road ahead, the undergrowth to each side, and occasionally he would turn around and peer back along the track.

Despite his attentiveness to his surroundings, Bram's mind kept returning to the reason for his journey. <Sir Lant> Palaran, "honorary" dwarf and best friend, was in trouble. Gadlam Peacemaker, Bram's own religious advisor and priest in <Ironstone>,had received some form of message from Adso, one of Meric's other close friends and a holy man of the Light. Apparently Meric had been investigating some reports of trouble in an abandoned Dark Temple. Bram's frown deepened as he thought of the self centred nature of those "Evil" priests he had met in his time. Praying to a God because he was a god was one thing, but praying to a god just because he was a means to increase ones own personal power seemed to be inherent in the way these people thought!

Bram had been working on his forge, finishing off the fine detail on the hilt of a long sword he had intended to gift to Meric on his <25th?> birthday, which was only <4 weeks> away. Within half an hour of receiving the message, Bram was already on the road, the unfinished sword strapped to his pack. Bram was not sure what he would be able to do to help his friend, or even if it was too late, but Adso had faith that his presence would help, so Bram would be there.

Bram's mind went back to <5 years> before when Bram and Meric had first met. Meric had been a fresh faced youth, only just come of age, and Bram himself was on his first ever trip with his father (the Light have mercy on his soul) outside the Ironstone hold. Their paths had literally crossed by the will of the Light, when Meric rode his horse over the brow of a hill, charging down to rescue Bram and his father Hathar from the band of orcs that had been attacking them. Bram and Hathar had been back to back, fighting against the odds despite the growing number of orc bodies around them. Hathar had just taken a gut wound from an orc spear when Meric¹shorse had ridden through the surprised orcs like a scythe through corn, and they scattered into nearby trees. Bram¹s father had collapsed, and Meric jumped down from his horse, his new armour shining with the tabard of the Light, and without a word knelt down next to the stricken dwarf. Bram watched as he lay on his hands, and the wound in Hathar¹s stomach miraculously closed over.

An orcish scream jerked his head up, in time to see the orcs charging again. Meric had yelled "Watch my back!", before drawing his sword and standing the other side of Hathar. Between Bram and Meric, a further 11 orcs breathed their last before the spirit of the orc band was broken by this tall armoured human, wielding his sword tirelessly beside the dwarf with the axe. As the last of the orcs limped into the trees, Meric had turned and introduced himself to Bram, before crouching again to examine Hathar. Bram had stood over the two of them, concern for his father in his eyes, occasionally scanning the trees. It was then that in a final act of defiance by an orc, a single spear came flying out of the trees. Bram only saw it at the last moment, and as he yelled a warning, he shouldered Meric out of the way, taking the spear in his own shoulder - the cause of the same scar that itched under his pack's straps now.

Luckily for Bram, the wound he had taken back then was not fatal. Unfortunately, his father was more grievously wounded than previously thought and over the next few days, as Meric, Bram and Hathar journeyed to a more civilised area, Hathar's injuries became infected and despite Meric's healing hands, Hathar quickly lost his strength and died before they made it to <name of Meric's home town>.

During that journey, the friendship between Meric and Bram had grown. Bram respected the young man for his courage and skill, and Meric too found much to admire in the young dwarf with the serious grey eyes.

Suddenly a brace of pheasants broke cover from the side of the road only 10 paces ahead, and Bram's hand instinctively reached for his axe "Iron Biter". In these times, travelling was a risky business and Bram did not feel 100% safe, even when travelling through relatively civilised areas such as this. Earlier that day, he had had to demonstrate his willingness to defend himself, when 2 vagrants thought he might be an easy target for mugging. But when they had seen the plate mail beneath his cloak the wickedly curved axe blade in his grip and the experienced fighter's stance, they had had second thoughts, and had ran instead.

Bram had learnt many of his skills with the axe from his time spent guarding the small herds in the high valleys of the <Galena Mountain>. Fairly wild and rugged, the mountains had many different humanoids all competing to survive and the dwarves had always needed to protect their livestock from such as goblins, orcs and other evil races. Even underground, the dwarves often found themselves being harried or attacked by monsters which had found their way through the underdark into the tunnels of the Ironstone realm. Bram had proved himself many times to be adept with an Axe, calm in combat and focused in his work, as much when defending sheep as when defending miners in the deep shafts.

Bram's family were a family of weaponsmiths, and it was natural that he also learn the family trade. His own axe, named "Whisper" for the noise it makes when passing through the air, was originally made by his grandfather Bolder, a master craftsman, and was special to Bram both for sentimental as well as practical reasons.

As Bram crested the next hill, roof tops could be seen in the gathering dusk It had stopped raining again, and Bram shifted his pack once more as he thought of sleeping the night in warm bed. Since he left the Ironstone hold he had spent three nights out in the open and for two of those it had been raining. He had not particularly felt inclined to socialise with other people on his journey and he had wanted to make as much time as possible, so had walked late into each night, relying on his own Dwarf born night vision to guide his way. But after three days and nights, Bram was fairly exhausted and he convinced himself that a night spent in a proper inn would revive him and allow him to meet with Adso tomorrow in good health.

As Bram stamped the mud from his boots outside the door of the inn, the door burst open, letting out a flood of warm air smelling of ale, jovial conversation and the sound of someone playing a flute. A man staggered out into the evening, almost bumping into Bram before he spotted the dwarf. A wave of alcohol fumes wafted over Bram, as the drunk leered down at him.

"Haay look, issha little man" he slurred, "Wot's ya name?"

Bram's hackles rose instantly! In cold level tones he said "Bram, of the Dwarves - you're in my way Jargh". (Dwarven for "fool").

The drunk smiled a drunken smile, and stepped aside, before tripping over his own feet and staggering off into the track towards the rest of the village.

Bram opened the door to the inn and stepped inside, his mood edged with anger at the drunk's comments. As he approached the bar, he felt another twinge of anger; human establishments always had such high bars. With his chin level with the edge of the bar, he gestured to the innkeeper.

"Yes my good dwarf, how can I help you sir?" the innkeeper asked courteously.

"Food and ale soon, a room later and water to wash now."

If the innkeeper was taken aback by the dwarf's curt reply, he didn't show it, merely replied "No problem sir, follow me" and led Bram through to the back of the inn. In this room you will find a water pump, a cauldron of water on the fire that has been heating all day, a bath tub if you wish, and towels. You can lock this door. I take it you are travelling to <Somewhere>? Will you be staying just the one night?"

"Yes."

"The charge for the bath, a meal and the room for the night will be <9 silver pieces> sir?"

"Fine. Here - I'll be half an hour." Bram handed the Innkeeper <10 silver pieces>, then entered the bath room.

An hour later saw Bram sitting rather more comfortably, out of his armour and drinking a mug of warm ale. Bram had tasted better stew, the humans were rather bland on their flavourings compared to traditional dwarven dishes, but it had been hot and filling and he already felt a lot better. In the morning he would rise early and with any luck he would be with Adso before the day was out. Bram filled his pipe, then walked to the fire to light a taper. As he reached the fireplace, a voice spoke in soft almost melodic tones.

"Have you been exiled from the Battlehammer clan then; 'Bram of the Dwarves'".

Bram stiffened hearing the elvish accent and turned to see an elf sitting quietly at the fireside table. His grimace relaxed when suddenly he recognised the elf.

"Should have guessed only your ears could hear my words across a crowded room! How fares you Mellomir? It must be a year since we last had an ultok!" (meeting).

"Too true my friend". Mellomir stuck out his forearm which Bram grasped. "Our last meeting was in the high summer last year, at the Harvest Festival in <Somewhere else>. You had your human friend Meric with you and you were going to return home to practice your metal work. How is your friend Meric - he seemed like all you had told me about?"

Bram's face fell. "He's in trouble. I'm on route to meet another mutual friend to see if we can help him. Perhaps you can join us?"

The elf's face showed concern. "I wish I could. I am on a mission myself, although nowhere near so noble. You remember when we tracked down that gang of thieves to their hide-out in the <Unknown Forest>? At the time, we thought that the leader had been burned with the rest of them when the place burned down. Well I met him a couple of week ago in <Another place> and he swore revenge for what we did to him. At the time, I couldn't do anything, but he has since stolen something from me and I've been trying to catch up with him ever since. From what I have been able to gather, I understand that he is heading towards <Somewhere different>".

"I remember him. He was a nasty piece of work. It will be a better world when you have caught him - I wish I could help you, but I must first help my samman Merix - my shield brother." Bram took a puff from his now lit pipe, and the two friends sat quietly for a while.

Bram broke the silence. "Keep your sword high and the edge keen Mellomir, for it seems there is more and more evil in the world, and those of us who battle against it are spread thinner and thinner."

For the next two hours the two friends reminisced about their previous experiences, before Bram declared that he intended an early start in the morning, and hence he would take to his room.

"Sleep well Bram. Look me up next time you visit <Mel's Town> . I'll let you know how my quest goes".

"It has been good to see you again Mellomir. For an elf, you stand tall and wield your sword with skill. I would have liked to have had you at my side for my journey. - Goodnight and farewell."

Bram stood and knocked his pipe out on the fireplace, before heading to his room.

***

The next day proved better weather and Bram left before first light. He was determined to make <Somewhere> as soon as possible.


Note all the items <marked>, are places / times that need to be tied into your campaign. For example, <Somewhere> represents the town/place where Bram is due to meet up with Adso.

I have the sourcebook "Dwarves Deep", from which I have gained some of the dwarven words - I like to throw them in every now and then!

Hopefully this entry is not too late for you to make your decision on who will play Bram!

Edited by: Calculus Crusader at: 4/9/04 9:03 pm