Doorvain is a 56 year old dwarven fighter. He generally looks up at the world, standing at only 4’7” but keeps a low center of gravity at 190 lbs. Unlike most dwarves, he’s uncharacteristically quiet, and speaks only when he feels necessary. When he does speak, however, he doesn’t hold anything back, and says exactly what’s on his mind. Like most dwarves, however, he love his ale, bar fights, and lasses! His face and arms feature burn scars from his black-smithing days and he features a classic dwarven beard that’s black as well as short, moderately groomed hair that is also black.

“Oh is that so? Well why don’t you step down here and let my fists do the talking!” – Doorvain, during a tavern brawl


Doorvain was born and raised in Reven, which is far from his peoples’ homelands. He followed in his father’s footsteps and became a blacksmith, specializing in weapons. He also followed his father’s philosophy of knowing how to use those weapons you craft, and is a very strong fighter. When his father passed away, he took over his shop, known as Bearded Blades and became one of the best private weapon-crafters in Reven. Although he never mass produced anything for the local garrison, he has crafted for a few ranking officers.

“To make a weapon, you must first know how to use a weapon.” Davin, Doorvain’s father, on weapon-crafting.

Philosophy and Beliefs

Doorvain inherits much of the same beliefs that his father had. He believes that to make a weapon, one must know how to use it. He also follows the god of Metal of Oniv and pays tribute when an important order comes his way. Morally, he has been taught to chase after anything he wants like a druid to a tree and let nothing stand between him and his goal. In times where he must choose between a more difficult yet righteous path or an easier yet questionable path, he’ll chose the difficult road.

“It may be harder, but it makes the victory that much sweeter!” – Doorvain during a moral impasse.

Change to an Adventurer

One day while working in his shop, a man came in carrying a sizable sample of some unfamiliar ore. The man gave the ore to Doorvain, asking if it was worth anything. Doorvain responded, saying that he wasn’t sure, as he had never seen it before, and the only way to know is if he made something out of it. The man agreed to let him experiment and left, leaving the ore with the dwarf. Doorvain proceeded to refine and craft it into an axe. When he was finished, he noted some interesting characteristics about the ore. For one, when heated the ore was extremely malleable and was easily hammered into complex shapes. A little hotter and he likely could make it turn into liquid and fill molds with it. Two, the metal, when cooled, was very light, yet stronger than steel. Finally, the sharpness of the blade was so fine, it could split a hair. The man who brought him this ore never returned. Doorvain had to find more of this ore; he could revolutionize his craft if he could find more of the stuff, and in the process become a very wealthy dwarf. After a couple of years, he decided to temporarily close his shop and set off as an adventurer to explore the world and find his ore, carrying a small sample of the left over ore around his neck.

“Hit me all you want, I’m not going anywhere!” – Doorvain, in the middle of a battle.

Felius Catus

Cats have almost always been a part of Doorvain’s life. His father had two at the house and two at the shop, and he carried on that tradition until recently. Such a mutual symbiotic relationship with cats too; you feed them and they remove rodents. The only tragedy in Doorvain’s life involved his cat, Khlina. He was working on a sword in his shop and has just taken the blade out of the sword and on the anvil. He grabbed his hammer, pulled it back and began to swing at the blade. In that instance, Khina jumped up onto the anvil. Doorvain crushed her skull, instantly killing her. Since then, he no longer keeps cats, instead opting for gnome rodent traps. Every time he’s around them, he gets extremely quiet and keeps his eyes closed trying hard to block out their presence.

“Khlina was my favorite cat. I’d never had more fun playing with her and spending hours untangling her claws from my beard.” – Doorvain, fondly remembering his former companion.


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