Things were pretty settled in Plunkett's life until she stepped into it. A broad. A dwarven femme fatale that took him from his home and led him to ruin.


Born and raised in a small mining village near the Goradra Gap in the Mror Holds where his clan had been settled for untold generations, Plunkett thought his life’s course was set. He would mine for precious stones and explore veins of ore with his father, uncles, brothers and cousins. His wealth would accumulate until he could get no richer. And yet he would continue down the shaft. Digging was in his blood. He lived to sing clan work songs passed down from father to son since before the dwarves had left Frostfell. He was suited to digging and Plunkett knew that with a hammer in hand he would die.

But this all changed when he met her. She was dwarf like no other. She wore the finest crafted jewelry and accented her clothes with well carved gem stones. She sparkled when she walked. And she had dreams of leaving the Goradra Gap. But before she did, she wanted something. She wanted Plunkett.

He soon was spending more time digging for a different type of ore. His clan warned him that she was no good for him and that she would lead him to ruin. But Plunkett wouldn’t listen. She had filled his mind with visions of a different life, visions of the city. Still, Plunkett was torn. He begged her, “Give me more time. One more winter of mining and we could buy the city. It could be ours.” But this little bird needed to fly. “It’s now or never, Plunkett, baby. Now or never.” He hesitated. She fled. He followed.

Leaving the clan was harder than he imagined. A week into his journey Plunkett was disoriented. He had never been this far from home. Already the country looked different. Too civilized. How would he be able to survive in the big city? “Let’s go back, honey. We are dwarves. I belong in the mines,” he pleaded. “If I wanted my lover to live underground I would have fallen for a worm, Plunkett.” She continued onward towards Sharn. Plunkett turned back to home and family. What he found when he got there was ruin.

The Last War had visited Plunkett’s village during his absence. His entire clan had been slaughtered. No one was spared. The buildings had all been razed and the mine collapsed. Distraught Plunkett sought for clues as to who had done this, but there were none. For weeks he stayed in the village alone digging graves for the dead and fending off encroaching beasts with a mining hammer that he had been able to salvage.

Only when there were no more of his clan to tend to did he realize that he had lost everything and could stay no longer in the Mror Holds. He gathered what few belongings he could and set forth to find her in Sharn.

But life again took an unexpected turn for Plunkett. During his travels he found himself repeatedly harassed by marauders and renegades. Plunkett learned that he had a talent and a taste for fighting. His attackers always retreated less in number than they had advanced. Plunkett’s objective of reuniting with her blurred with each skirmish until she was but a vague memory. Blood and fighting was what he craved. He learned that he could earn coin and fame in the fighting pits of Khorvaire. He traveled from village to village and city to city as a gladiator. In some places Plunkett’s reputation preceded him, the Lone Dwarf, the Hammer Fist.

Coin he earned. But not peace. Not comfort. Slowly she started to creep back into his thoughts, as did the fate of his village. Where was she? Did she still remember him? Who destroyed his people? Plunkett continued for years fighting on the gladiatorial circuit, but in between boughts he started to ask questions seeking answers that would reunite him with his past.


Forgotten Things PTrig