Burblecut IronBottom

A Fighter, A Dwarf, A Cause


At almost 4 feet tall, Burblecut has long dark burgundy hair, usually kept in braid,s, as is his beard.

Burblecut while short, is about as stout as any person you’re likely to see. He holds about him a lot of trinkets – some strange, while others mundane. Most of the time, when you view him, underneath a sly smile, you can tell that this is a Dwarf up to no good.

He wears a rather large axe tied to his belt, and a wooden hammer pendant around his neck. Burblecut also wears a fairly weathered woolen cloak and underneath can be seen a shirt of scale mail,, possibly not very well maintained.


It is said that the stone remembers all things – from every hammer that has split its ore in twain, and all that dwell in the darkest recesses of the mountain.

Grim, the first IronBottom to cleave the stone, to dwell deep within the crevices and along lines that run to the One Stone itself, knew this. As was handed down through millennia, IronBottoms from many mountains, along a multitude of veins would come to know the stone and its calling, Burblecut began his years deep within the tunnels his forefathers had carved. Burblecut knows the stone, and can feel its presence within him. Burblecut is most at home in such dank, earth filled tunnels and caverns. Because of this, wherever he travels, he takes stones and soil to remind him of the stone, and the vastness of all things that come from the One Stone…to remind him that he is a part of the stone, and it, a part of him.

During his younger years, Burblecut learned the craft of rock tending, but when he was not with his father or brothers, he could be found playing with his friends, Aleric, Redtooth, Twyla, and Bander. Twyla and Bander came from families of forge tenders, unlike Burblecut. But, as Burblecut would come to know The Stone, so they were taught the might of The Anvil and Forge. Over the years of their childhood together the five of them would share stories and experiences as they grew.

Even for a Dwarf, Burblecut was always very stout. If asked, he could not easily recount a time when he had ever been sickly, or without strength. It seemed he simply would not tire as most children. This was as much a curse for his family, as it was a blessing. While Burblecut could seemingly spend hours on end, heaving and cutting stone with his siblings and father, it seemed he had just as much energy to find mischief when he wasn’t. When he was with his friends, Burblecut seemed even more inclined to somehow get himself into sticky situations. As such, the gang of Dwarves stuck together because other children just didn’t have their tenacity.

Twyla was the first to leave home and find her calling. She was the eldest, and sort of the group’s ring leader. When she left, Burblecut felt loss, not of just a friend, but of a romantic kind that he never really owned up to. Being the only girl in their group, the other three boys may have had similar feelings for her. If this were the case, though, Burblecut was oblivious. Burblecut still holds a place in his heart for her, and there is some part of him, under all that dust and grime, that would like to one day tell her how he feels.

Bander and Aleric were the next to leave home, as they were a bit older than Burblecut and Redtooth (or Red as they all called him). While Aleric was a rock tender and spent more time with Burblecut, Bander was really his dearest friend. When Bander left, Burblecut grew agitated at most things. As the years went by, Burblecut got into a lot of fights with other Dwarves from their community. Truth be told, Burblecut was always fighting for or about something with someone – be it food at dinner time (he had 8 siblings, all of similar ages), a hand-me-down jerkin, boots or the like, or simply who got which hammer in the mines.

When it was Burblecut’s time to leave, he gathered what few belongings he had, and set out to find rich gems, and fantastic ore from faraway lands and mountains unknown to bring back to his father and mother.

A caravan came one night along the trail that Burblecut had camped. As the caravan halted for the night, a familiar figure approached Burblecut’s crackling fire. The image of Bander appeared before him! Burblecut jumped to his feet and rushed to bear hug his old friend! After they greeted one another, Burblecut noticed that something wasn’t the same….

This was Bander, but a different Bander than he knew… Burblecut couldn’t quite place what exactly was different about him. He felt…changed, as though he wasn’t the same Dwarf. Upon a little questioning, Bander told Burblecut that he had come to a calling. A calling? What was that, he asked of his friend. Bander went on to explain that the mighty Dwarven God, Torag, had chosen Bander, had reached out to him, to be Torag’s herald. Bander told tales of his God, and the strength and protection that Torag would provide those he thought worthy. In fact, Bander was blessed with a power that Burblecut neither knew, nor understood…or trusted. His childhood friend now possessed some sort of magical essence and an inner glow that puzzled and confused young Burblecut.

As the stories Bander told of Torag and his calling continued, Burblecut became more interested in Bander’s God. While Burblecut was never one to really follow any sort of deity, something about Bander’s tales interested and intrigued him. That night, his mind spun around what they discussed, and as daylight broke, Burblecut now groggy from lack of sleep, woke Bander. He asked Bander if Torag would accept a raucous Dwarf as himself, too, or whether Torag would look down on him.

Bander handed Burblecut a strange hammer carved of wood on a leather string, and told his friend, Torag would accept him as he is. Over the next couple of days, Burblecut, now traveling with Bander and his caravan, learned about Torag and what is expected of his followers. When the caravan reached a town, the two Dwarves and the caravan parted ways.

Burblecut and Bander found a tavern, as both were thirsty for mischief and, of course, a little ale…

Burblecut was bestowed the title of Knight tonight. As such, Burblecut was granted a fiefdom in which he has named Argyle. Burblecut has chosen a crest and heraldry for himself and his holdings.

The herald shows a Knight crowned in Royal Purple around his helm. The crest has adorned Lions to symbolize his fighting spirit. The herald also shows an axe, his chosen weapon, and a hammer, to symbolize his loyalty to Torag, his God. This is centered around a Fleur de Lis, a reminder that Burblecut is now Royalty, and as such, must hold himself to an even higher calling. While this is all very new to him, the bar wasn’t raised that high, because before this, the only bar that was raised before him, contained a flagon of ale. That said, he’s excited to see where this leads.

Here’s is the Crest of IronBottom:House_IronBottom.jpgBurblecut IronBottom

Burblecut IronBottom

A Small Problem in the East bgenzoli