Gremdal Ironbeard grew up in an unremarkable dwarven encampment, spending his days

working with metal and his nights drinking with his fellow dwarves. Every dwarf worthy of his
beard liked putting his muscles to good use, and with his well-built, albeit short stature, he soon
found himself working in the mines and helping around in the forge when needed. The dark and
lonely caves of the former, and the hot air of the latter weren’t the most pleasant experiences,
and they slowly forged Gremdal’s own patience and will power. During the process, he also
gradually learned to better spot the ore veins, avoiding the weak spots to avoid cave-ins, and to
tell a good weapon from a defective one. In short, one could say he developed quite a good eye
and awareness of his surroundings. But one has to say that, like it as he may, mining wasn’t the
least tedious activity out there, and in the lull between the work songs that filled the tunnels, he
often found his thoughts drifting away to less “earthly” places.

He often wondered about why he was here, and why him, and why here. Who created him, and
for what purpose? Alas, he wasn’t exactly good with using his head - aside for headbutting his
opponents in tavern fights. After falling asleep while reading books in the small cottage that
served as the encampment’s library while trying to find an answer, he soon gave up, and
pushed the questions to the back of his mind.

Or at least he tried, for they soon came back to gnaw at him, making him feel a weird sort of
void inside that he couldn’t fill with alcohol. As he was more a man of actions than words, he
soon decided to pack up what few belongings he had and hit the road for answers. It was a first
for him, being on the surface, experiencing the lush forests, bustling cities and expansive fields.

And then one night, after he went to sleep in a small cave, he was woken up with a start. In front
of him stood a big, imposing figure whose features he couldn’t distinguish. Yet for some reason,
instead of feeling wary or scared, what he felt instead was awe. A primordial, unreasonable awe
that welled from his deepest being. In front of him stood a God! Unable to control his own body,
he prostrated in front of Him. A few nights and a couple of nocturnal visions later, Gremdal left
the cave with a new found purpose, unaware of the hallucinogenic mushrooms deeper in the
cave, their spore sacs empty. He headed to the nearest city, set on propagating his God’s Word
to the masses.

Alas, things didn’t go exactly as planned. Compared to well established religious orders with
their priests and churches all around the world, he lacked credibility. Who would pay attention to
a weary and smelly traveler preaching the Word of an unknown God? And then one day, for the
first time, someone seemed to take interest in him. He was soon invited to a hidden building
with weirdly dressed individuals inside. Calling themselves Truth Seekers, they were a “religious
order” who prayed to a God they referred to as the Creator. Thinking he finally found where he
belonged, he paid the membership fee and joined the community. He was led to meet the Grand
Master who introduced the religion to him, and told him that he could get paid for each person
he converted, as well as for each person their convertees converted…

Being so zealous, he fit perfectly in the group, gradually making himself a name amongst the
other believers. Until one day he stumbled upon the leaders’ secrets. It turned out that the
higher ups were conducting a scam to milk money out of their cult members. Unable to bear his
righteous anger, he decided to confront them. There was no suspense as for the result: he got
surrounded and beaten to a pulp. Fortunately for him, the higher ups were mere conmen, and
not murderers. And so, tying him, they led him far in the Underdark and dumped him there to
fend for himself before heading back.