As Above - So Below
Druid, Dwarf, Stubborn, Seeking a Home
Skorri has the short and stocky build of the Dwarves. What he lacks in height, he makes up for with thickness of arms and chest; and bulky, corded muscles. His hair and beard are a pale silver and his eyes are blue, an oddity among the dwarves which has run in his family for generations. He has many scars from living amongst the beasts, the most prominent of which resides just above his right eye. It is the long, deep cut of a bear’s claw. For protection and warmth, he wears the hides of beasts which he has hunted and slain.
Skorri is stubborn and fearless, more at home amongst the wilds than even the dwarven halls in which he was raised. He has been struck with a wanderlust which drives him to travel ever farther from his homelands. Perhaps it is the tales of early, ancient Dwarves who defied the elements and made their home under the great rolling mountains of the Sword Coast, or perhaps it is their blood coursing through his veins, but he can feel the North calling him, beckoning him to come test his mettle.
With strangers Skorri can seem gruff, surly, and standoffish. However, those who are close enough to Skorri to see him let his guard down with his bosom companion, Bjorn, see his true nature. He is tender, loving, kind, and playful. He often dotes on his bear, spending long hours petting and feeding the beast, tending to his health, and teaching him new tricks. This same warm nature extends to his more intelligent friends as well, especially by the fireside, when he has gotten a bottle of ale in his belly.
On the rare occasion when Skorri or his companion Bjorn are threatened, Skorri flies into a wild, vicious rage, losing himself nearly entirely. The dwarf would sooner throw himself into perilous harm, than let Bjorn come to harm. Later, when the situation has cooled down, and Skorri has regained his wits, he often feels remorseful for the violence which he has displayed.
Skorri was born under the Sword Mountains, in the Citadel of Karaz Karag, The Volcano Hold. Like most dwarves, Skorri was slow to age, his face stubbornly refusing to beard until nearly his 30th year. When his beard finally came, however, it grew in thick and long. And much to the pride of his family, it was silvery white.
The blood of the North ran through Skorri’s veins, ancient blood full of strength and magic.
The earth called to him, whispering its secrets in his ears. He could feel the ebb and flow of the elemental energies from which all things were born.
They were part of him, and he was part of the world.
Unlike most dwarves, Skorri did not view the earth’s metals and gems as tools or wealth.
Rather, Skorri could feel the deep connection of all things, and the metals had their place in nature, as much as any dwarf or beast. And so he found himself sickened by toil in the forge.
Over time, however, it became clear to him that it was not he who was sick, but the very forge itself.
Already, many of his people had fled the halls of Karaz Karag because the mineral veins had run dry.
Those few who remained, stubbornly clung to the hope that new metals would be found, if they only dug deep enough. Skorri saw the madness of it, and fled his mountain home.
Above ground, Skorri was overwhelmed with the world’s life energy. Plants and beasts of every kind sang to each other in beautiful harmony.
The plants called to the earth for its life-giving minerals, the beasts ate the plants and were rejuvenated, in death the beasts returned to the earth, and the cycle was complete.
It was in this environment that Skorri flourished, and his ancient northern blood began to manifest its powers.
The ancient dwarves lived in harmony with the earth. They did not strip its minerals for wealth, but rather made their home deep within mother earth’s loving embrace.
The ancient mountain home of his ancestor’s beckoned Skorri.
He was drawn to the north, and with each passing day, as he drew closer to the birthplace of the dwarves, his ancient blood grew stronger