::as he comes in to the message boards, he posts this story, his history, hoping for understanding, but not expecting it::

I began life as a happy dwarf, with my child-name, Helriechson, living in the Dwarven homeland, Dindale. My father, Helriech, was a great dwarven berserker, with the prominent status of Chief Warrior and the distinction of being a well-seasoned veteran in a time of many wars between villages and clans. My mother, Kendara, was part human, and thus was a great ranger, skilled in the healing arts before the days of non-healing rangers.
My parents met at one of the town's great hunts that they held to test the mettle of young warriors. They were paired together randomly as partners and during the hunt they came to know and love one another. Dwarves learned to love quickly because of the shortness of life back then.
The War of Darkness between the Human Arch-Magi and the Elven High-Priests was at this time just heating up, so the land was still rich with life when my parents were married. I was born soon after. My early childhood is a large blur to me until my brother Onimacus was born. I remember, at a tender age, caring for him while my parents were out on scouting parties.
My brother was more of an oddity. The gods had decided to make him human after my grandfather on my mother's side. Being human he was attracted to the majikal arts at an early age. He studied the dark arts of necromancy and sorcery all day while I fought with my friends, practicing for my chosen weapon.
When I turned twelve, I was allowed to select my path in life. Not wanting to upset my parents by becoming a wielder of majik, I chose the middle path, that of the Noble Fighter. Never have I once looked back. My brother chose to pursue a life of Sorcery, which I believe has always been a disappointment to my parents.
During this time, the land that we were growing up in was turning more and more barren as the War of Darkness progressed. Then the unthinkable happened, the Human Arch-Magi started to use the mana of the land as a powerful increase to their spells and secret ingredient to their incantations. The Elven High-Priests used their ties to living things to increase their spells and incantations as a counter to the human spells. The land became like a
wasteland, devoid of all life saving the ever-circling vultures. My brother and I decided we should leave being possessed of the dwarven wander lust we made a pact: when we turned 18, we would go to Moorgate, the mystical land of adventure where reputations are made and lost.

:: you pause as you examine the teardrop in the middle of the page::

When we were 18, we set off for Moorgate from Dindale. We had to go across the lands of the war to do this and we only traveled at night to avoid the marauding bands of elves and humans. We were almost to Moorgate when we captured by the leader of the Human Arch-Magi. We were stripped of our armor and our weapons, and Onimacus of his ability to speak, in order that he did not cast spells. When we were finally "privileged with the ability to be in
the presence of the almighty Myrdynn."
Barely glancing up from his tomes, which stacked the room like a mini-city, he had the guards strap us in to the wall using well-wrought iron chains. He looked us over, murmuring to himself, then sending out his apprentice to do some errand or prepare something. When he finally had us alone, he told us of what he was going to do.
"I have found a spell which takes the life-force from one being and channels it into the spell being chanted, making it infinitely more destructive then it already is! Your life-forces will be channeled into a giant hellfire spell. The Elven "high-priests" won't have a chance against a spell of that might and they will all be burned to a crisp! The land will be ours and the war over."
"You two should feel privileged to be such an integral part." He said, leering at us all the while.
We tried to struggle out of our bonds as he set up the cauldron near the wall to catch our blood as he could drip it into the vat of things. We nearly exhausted ourselves trying to escape. The powerful spells that deprived me of my great strength kept him from using his spells.
By this time he had started mixing our bloods into a giant cauldron of many dead and dying things. He chanted slowly over cauldron, all the while mixing our bloods together. I finally managed to slip my bonds, and started freeing my brother. Myrdynn was very involved in the chanting of the spell, so I took a handy short stick and involved him in it.
He looked at me in dismay saying "how?" I responded with the old adage: Never Underestimate an Angry Dwarf. He was about to die when he said
"I am but a shadow off the real Arch-Magi, I was just a decoy to throw off all unbelievers like you. The humans will come to rule this realm! This I promise you!"
And with that he died, and a horrible wrenching was felt as the fabric of the realm twisted and he was gone, most likely soul-summoned to his master.
We fought our way past the measly forces he had with him. Now that I was assisted with the fighting by my brother's spells, I was able to easily go through the guards like a Cyclops through a troll witch doctor.
We made it through to Moorgate all right and things have been pretty good since. Onimacus left on some mages special journey that the mages GL Penilord gave him. I have been doing pretty good since but sometimes I wonder. Who really pulled the strings of Myrdynn? Where did my brother go? And will I ever see him again? Or was this just another trick by the master puppeteer?

::as you wonder about these questions, you see a signature by the end in very elaborate high Dwarf, barely making it out you read "Wandrin' Bard Elfers, Master Poet"::