Angradin "Sonnlinor" Hammerforged

Dwarven male cleric of Moradin

Me? I look like a dwarf! I sound like a dwarf! I drink like a dwarf! I hit like a dwarf!

Maybe I'm friendlier than most, not that you can blame my brothers after all they have been through. Just like my father, and my father's sons, I follow the path of Moradin, the Soul Forger and father of the dwarven race. Moradin teaches that wisdom is derived from life and tempered with experience. I seek to honor him by emulating his principles and workmanship in smithing, stoneworking, and other tasks. It is my duty to advance the dwarven race in all areas of life by innovating with new processes and skills, founding new kingdoms and clan lands, defending the existing ones from all threats, and lead the dwarves in the traditions laid down by the Soul Forger.

I was born in the Greypeak Mountains, one of many siblings to Danvidin and Fullova of the Hammerforged clan. Like almost all the descendant of Grambaki Hammerforged, my destiny was to be a paladin (forge domain cleric) in the service of the Soul Forger.

My childhood was spent at the forge with my many brothers, working our craft and pouring our souls, like molten iron, into our craft in the service of the Dwarffather.

As is customary, the time came for me to venture forth from the mountains and spread Moradin's principles and the workmanship of his wisdom. Always a curious dwarf, I was eager to experience the world under the vast blue sky.

Danvadin always told me that wisdom blossomed in kindness, and it was with these lessons at heart that I approached my missions, which were mainly as an emissary of the Greypeak dwarves.

During one of these missions I returned to find that the Hammerforged clan had been called to defend the Greypeak mountains from an assault by their ancestral enemy. It was said that Danvadin fought bravely and held the line against overwhelming numbers before falling. Though his body was never recovered, his end is sure to go down in legend.

After receiving a sending from an elder of the clan, I departed from the Greypeak Mountains to nearby the village of Parnast where I was told I could expect to meet someone of significance. I don't know if they will know me, or if I will receive another sending, but in the meantime I'll see if I can convince Raggnar Redtooth at The Golden Tankard to let me try a pint of his legendary rich dwarven ale.


A tall half-elf sweeps his feathered Tyrolean cap off of his head, bows low with equal parts affection and impertinence, befitting the awkward moment, and says, "Eyvindir Kanaduil, at your service!"

Me, a dwarf-sized dwarf in chainmail and helm, carrying a hammer and shield – all adorned with the forge and hammer symbol of Moradin – stands nearby. He clears his throat (and by that I mean he loudly summons a generous amount of phlegm, which he promptly expectorates, decorating the ground) and brings his Warhammer up, proudly displaying it’s craftmanship. “Greetings, and blessing on your ancestors. Angradin Hammerforged, Sonnlinor of Moradin. My hammer is at the ready.”


His belly rumbled again. "When was the last time I ate?" he muttered. Going through his ratty pack of meager goods, he fished out a crusty end of bread, mold had found a foothold but hadn't established a civilization yet. Sighing, he bit into the morsel and while chewing surveyed the area, looking for anything, an opportunity, for money, food... survival. He spotted a charming well dressed half-elf and a heavily armored dwarf exchanging greetings. These two looked like they were at the start of something, what he couldn't say but there was something, hope?

Cyrus heard a tearing sound as he got up, noticing another tear of his ragged clothing. Walking over to the two he staggered slightly, due to hunger, too much drink or other indulgences he couldn't tell. "I hear you lot might need a sword for hire, yeah?"

“Well met, stranger," Angradin replies. "Nay friend, we’re just a pair of friendly ambassadors on a diplomatic mission to liberate some of The Golden Tankard’s finest ale. You’re more than welcome to accompany us on our journey to Parnast. I’ll gladly trade you whatever news you bring for a bit o’ me rations and some hair o’ the dog. You look like could use it before you fall over.” The dwarf swung his pack down and reached inside, revealing a dirty skin and some wrapped rations. Unwrapping the rations he took bites from the meat and bead within, and passed them to the stranger. Then he cleaned the opening of the skin with his hairy lips, taking a liberal swig before passing that as well. “Enjoy! Angradin Hammerforged of The Greypeak Mountains. My fancy friend here is goes by Eyvindir. Now tell us, what stories left you in such wretched shape?”

"Penury is a common problem among itinerant adventurers such as ourselves," Eyvindir adds. "We are not looking to hire, as we have no coin to pay for such a robust and formidable sellsword as yourself. But if you would share our road, we would share our fortunes (may they change soon!). I had just suggested to Angradin that we drink to the confusion of our enemies. Let us add your glass, and a toast to better fortunes ahead..!"

Accepting the rations and skin, Cyrus took a healthy bite of the salted meat. Chewing, he studied the two before him. After a long moment he washed down the mouthful, "Your decency is refreshing, my thanks."

He wipes his hand on his thigh and holds it out, its not clear whether the motion cleaned his hand or soiled it more,  "Me name is Cyrus, Cyrus Ebontouch. Apologies for the sinister sounding moniker, I find it helps give pause to those who may wish me harm...and sometimes loosens the skirt of an audacious lass." He added with a crooked smile.

"As for my current condition, you have the right of it Eyvindir, it is difficult to find honest work. Fear and superstition rule so many men's hearts. And relying on the kindness of strangers is usually a fool's errand. I know enough to value it when it comes my way."


A large half-orc soon entered our camp, along with his cloaked drow companion. They introduced themselves as Warroc Bloodringer and Xireas (Zir/ray/as) Morte the Black, and assured us they were not enemies and asked us to join them on a quest. Like us, they were headed to Parnast, so we hesitantly decided to join them.

In Parnast, they were to meet Veradda Stoor, a famed treasure hunter. Veradda has learned the
location of five caches of treasure, hidden by members of the Cult of the Dragon after their attempt
to bring Tiamat into the world failed, and seeks adventurers to accompany her on expeditions.

During our trip along the Black Road, we found signs of goblin presence, but continued on to our rendezvous point. Once there, all we found were signs of a bloody battle. After searching the area, we ultimately found the body of Veradda Stoor, dead from a variety of wounds. What was left of her equipment was scattered around the clearing. A large tome holding her notes was open on the ground
near her body. The last several pages had been torn out, but we did manage to put together these notes about the caches she was seeking:

The First Cache. The first treasure cache was hidden by the Cult of the Dragon in an abandoned cave at the base at of the southernmost mountain in the Greypeak range. While it was thought to be the smallest of the caches, it is also not thought to be protected by any traps or magic. The caves and tunnels of the complex, according to my sources, are not very structurally sound. Goblins are known to inhabit the area.
The Second Cache. My sources confirmed that one cache was buried beneath a unique structure: a pyramid of stone resting on a flat field of stone in the middle section of the Greypeaks, directly between the two highest mountains of that section of the range. The area was once rent with volcanic activity, making the flat stone field difficult to navigate. My sources could not tell me who or what built the boulder pyramid.
The Third Cache. The source I questioned about this cache said that it was carefully hidden behind a secret entrance in the wall of a green-sided mountain. There is only one of those in the Greypeak range, according to my research. The source also said that the cultist who hid the treasure was an expert in magical curses.
The Fourth Cache. This cache was secured in an abandoned dwarven outpost used for treating ore that was being prepared for use in weapon-smithing. My sources implied that the place had been overrun by something terrible and immortal, causing the dwarves to leave it centuries ago. Subterranean volcanic activity has been reported in the area regularly over the years.
The Fifth Cache. At the top of the tallest summit of the Greypeaks, one contact told me that there is an abandoned shrine once revered by giants. Dragons used the area as a perch since then, and a cache is going to be hidden there. Someone also told me that occasionally, when the wind is blowing in just the right direction, a pealing of loud bell can be heard from there.

We decided to seek the first treasure cache, hidden in an abandoned cave at the base at of the southernmost mountain in the Greypeak range, since I was pretty sure I could lead the way.

When we got to the cave, we found it lit by several lanterns around the room. Throughout the cavern, were piles of rubble up to three feet high in several places. There were two tunnels lead out. The tunnel on the south wall was clear, but the tunnel to the east appeared to have recently collapsed, crushing a hill giant. We were attacked by some goblins, which we quickly dispatched. We took two vials of alchemist’s fire from them, which we divided between Eyvindr and Xireas.

In the southern tunnel was dark and we were attacked by a swarm of tiny goblins. They quickly overwhelmed me, but Warroc finished them off, and Eyvindir revived me. Once they died the tiny goblins grew to the normal size. We found enough gold on them for each of us to take one piece.

The tunnel led to another cavern that, like the last, was lit with lanterns throughout. To the north, at the far end, we saw a small creature dressed in ratty furs, wielding a club. He stood in front of a stone chest. A growl from the corner alerted him to our presence and it appeared to by a small hill giant. "Slayermighty the Giant will tear you apart and feed you to Blooddrinker!," it shrieked.

We dispatched the "giant" and took from it a potion of healing, which we gave to Warroc, and necklace of 20 copper charms. Eyvindir made friends with his pet bear, which was about the size of a cat.

The stone chest was carved directly into the floor of the chamber, and its stone lid was leaning against the wall. Runes were carved into the chest, the lid, and the floor in front of the chest. The chest was empty, except for a note.

Stupid runt-giants of the hills,
You are too slow and dim-witted to challenge us. The treasure is ours. You are probably feeling small now, aren’t you? If you think you are going to prevail, you are mistaken. By the way, prevail means win, idiots.
Clan True-Nimbus of the Clouds

We determined that the runes were part of a magical curse that caused its victims to shrink.

After a camping out in the cave for the night, we traveled to the second cache, which was located directly between the two highest mountains in the middle of the Greypeaks.

After a day's travel, we found a large pyramid comprised totally of boulders. The structure was at least 60 feet high, and it looked as though there might be an opening at the top.

We crossed over a solid stone field, rent with deep gouges – so deep that we could not tell how deep they were, but they were narrow enough that they were easy to cross.

Not taking any chance, I cast guidance on everyone as they crossed, crossing last myself. Almost as soon as I crossed the gouge, we were attacked by five giant badgers, wearing harnesses.

After defeating the badgers, we decided to take a short rest.

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