Just... Just try to ignore the fact that it's Thomas the Tank Engine fanart... It fit the aesthetic I wanted too well to pass up...
Health: 4 HP
Strength - 16 (+3)
Dexterity - 11 (+0)
Constitution - 16 (+3)
Intelligence - 9 (-1)
Wisdom - 11 (+0)
Charisma - 14 (+2)
Languages: Urist can speak, read and write Common, Undercommon and Dwarvish.
Feature: Respect of the Stout Folk
As well respected as clan crafters are among outsiders, no one esteems them quite so highly as dwarves do. You always have free room and board in any place where shield dwarves or gold dwarves dwell, and the individuals in such a settlement might vie among themselves to determine who can offer you (and possibly your compatriots) the finest accommodations and assistance.
Smith's tools, a maker's mark chisel used to mark your handiwork with the symbol of the clan of crafters you learned your skill from, a set of traveler's clothes, and a pouch containing 5 gp and a gem worth 10 gp
Urist McAglam is, in his eyes, the world's tallest dwarf. And why wouldn't he be? Sure, he may be physically human, but all he'd even known up to the age of nineteen had been the tunnels and caverns of his own home colony of Lharfaern, not far from the frontier. When he was a mere infant, barely even able to move, a group of miners found him grumpily trying and failing to crawl through the bowels of the earth, with little to suggest how he could possibly
have gotten there. After a brief search of the area turned up no new information, the miners decided to take the boy to the town hall, knowing that their mayor would want to know about the boy before in case it turned out important. While the mayor was
fairly concerned that the presence of a parentless baby in one of their mines might sour relations with the humans of the nearby settlements, nothing came of it in the end, and the question of what to do with the child was brought up. It was then that one of the older dwarves in the settlement, a well known and respected blacksmith named Vhandam chimed in, claiming that he had been thinking it was about time to start looking for an apprentice. While many others complained, more than a few of them having hoped to become his apprentice themselves, he had already made up his mind, and so the knewly named Urist McAglam was placed in the care of the legendary smith.
While Vhandam was never what one might call a 'brilliant parent', he proved to be quite a capable mentor. Even while he was learning to talk, Urist was slowly learning the ins and outs of the forge, and of weapons. When other children of his race would just be learning not to stick their hands in the hearth, he was being taught nearly the complete opposite,
and being shown how to safely handle white hot metal. Of course, it was slow going, and there were more than a few heated arguments between the two, but it was clear that the idea of teaching Urist from pretty much day one was working. After about fifteen years of spending around half his day devoting himself to metalsmithing, he was beginning to reach a level of talent rare among people his age.
However, this led to a new problem. Thanks in no small part to his friendship with the other children of the settlement, along with the tendency of all dwarves to revel in the stories of their ancestors and their exploits, Urist began to develop a small obsession with the idea of creating the weapon of the next great dwarvish hero. One that, as he often put it, would 'forge destiny'. While Vhandam didn't exactly see this as a goal to be discouraged, it meant the boy was beginning to ignore their other, more mundane duties, such as the forging of hoes for the farms, and even the heads of the pickaxes that form the very backbone of their culture! It was at this point that, deciding a change of pace might be in order anyway, Vhandam started taking Urist out of the workshop every now and then to see the results of their handy work in person. This included quite a few visits to the ever growing mine networks, and a few less than subtle reminders that, without things like pickaxes, there could be no great dwarvish cities, nor could there be blacksmiths, for that matter. And while the message was about as subtle as a cave in, and frequently led to no shortage of grumbling from the boy, he eventually came around to the old mans way of thinking. It was only a few years later that Vhandam surprised Urist with another phase of his training.
Vhandam told Urist that, while he was progressing about as fast as he could hope for from some 'annoying human brat', his skills would only stutter to a halt if he only stayed in the one colony all his life. Therefore, he was to leave and travel the land, learning what he could from other masters, and how it might also benefit him to spend some time amongst his own kind. However, he chuckled and corrected himself a moment later, explaining that he could hardly say that when he couldn't even consider Urist anything other than an unusually tall dwarf at this point. As Urist began to get his things together to leave, many of the other dwarves he had grown up with amongst to bid him farewell, making sure he would remember to 'come back home as soon as he could'. These, along with everything he had learnt growing up in Lharfaern, were what pushed him over the edge, and where before he had felt like he was still something of an outsider, he now found he considered himself more a dwarf than a human.
And so, Urist McAglam, the worlds tallest dwarf, left his home in search of a new place to settle down and continue to master his trade. And hey, where better than that frontier town Vhandam recommended? It had a nice big temple to Crugh, it was one of the closer settlements to Lharfaern, at least comparitively, and he was sure he'd find many a master who could teach him their own tricks of the trade. The chance to have a little more adventure than usual and make a bunch of new friends while doing it wouldn't hurt either!
Yeah, that place might do nicely...