I barely remember my youth, so much anger. My parents were good folk, for the most part... at least that's what they told me. My Da had a penchant for anger, but it all broke bad the night my Ma got killed. We didn't live in the best part of Bragensdeep, and the tavern she worked at had a bit of a reputation, on her way home she was killed for the coin in her purse. When my Da found out he worked tirelessly day and night to hunt the men down who did this, and he slaughtered them in the street. He was sentenced to death for the crime of murder, he couldn't even get a confession out of the guy.
That left me alone, in the dark deep mines of Bragensdeep. The miners took me in, since my Da was so loyal to them they took care of me. I learned soon that I had the family streak of anger problems, and found the work of beating rocks relieving. But one day it wasn't enough, so when I was old enough I joined the army. I gathered a name for myself "Ironfist" which I adopted in place of my family name. I began to learn the joys of blacksmithing during the downtime at camp, and once I was forced to retire, as every dwarf of a certain age must, I apprenticed under the head smith of the army. In-fact I could've made a name for myself, had I not left in search of more fights. It's in my blood, I've gotta keep fighting, fighting for... something... anything.
- Thomas Roberts