City of Baldemar
Dwarf Bear Shaman
Throwing Hammer x3
The Dwarves have always been an industrial race, actually they’re famous for it. They dig in the mountains they were born from, they level the forest flat seeking lumber, and they dam up bodies of water for dryer passage. What is more important to a dwarf than craftsmanship or drinking, is religion. But when their Gods are not watching over them, then who is there to smack them on the hand when they dig too deep or cut more than their share? The Shamans are, or at least the Dwarf Shaman. Intrusted by the primal spirits to protect all things great and small, the very few Dwarf Shaman that exist travel from one mountain society to the next. They heal wounds, mental and physical, but most importantly, they regulate. Aside from the energy of the great beyond, most dwarven societies are willing to give these shaman power, to the point of becoming their own authority.
Orsik never knew his parents, at a very young age he was selected by a wise shaman named Borum to be raised as his own. How Orsik was selected is unknown, but most reckon that it had something to do with the shamans ability to see spirits. Because dwarves are a noble race, it wasn’t hard to take Orsik from his parents, it was the law after all and only bad parents would leave their offspring to be raised as a lower class citizen. Orsik never really cared about who his parents were, and he never sought to find out. Borum was his new father now, and in just five years, young Orsik was well trained.
One day while traveling with his master, Orsik stepped in what appeared to be blood. It soaked the ground beneath him like a thick mud and trailed off into the forest. Orsik looked at Borum, and Borum glanced at Orsik and smiled. Borum was judging Orsik, had he raised him wrong? Was he ready to venture on his own? Orsik looked back at the blood, and then charged off into the forest. Following the blood trail, Orsik found a wounded and trapped animal and proceeded to let it free. He tried to open the jaws of the trap using his spear but the mechanism turned out to be a worthy foe. Growing angrier, Orsik began to raise ghost from the forest floor, which proceeded to open the trap under the orders of the young shaman. At last the animal was free and it ran back into the forest.
On his return to his master, Orsik found another trail of blood. It did not smell like animal blood, but it gave off the aroma of a similar beast; a dwarf. Following it, Orsik found the body of his master Borum laying by a rock. Orsik was too late, Borum was dead. Orsik became confused and panicked, and then he caught the glimpse of something or someone. An assassin running off in the distance. Orsik wasted no time, he lunged his spear at the dark figure hoping through the forest, but his spear failed to reach its target, only sticking the assassin in the corner of his cloak. It tore, and stuck to a nearby tree. Wiping his eyes, Orsik went back to his master and retrieved his blood soaked bear skin hood. He left the spirits in charge to deal with Borums body.
For 45 years Orsik had roamed the lands, moving from city to city, looking for the assassin who killed his master. No longer did Shamans hold authority within societies, but they were always welcome to heal the sick.