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( This story was one i made up as i told it Ingame so bear with me if its lacking 
)
The Tale of Rolin the Misfortunate.
Rolin was but a mere lad back in the days of the great dwarven realms where everything were peaceful and abundant, as the only son to a wealthy merchant, he was given the best that gold could aquire.
However Fate is a fickle thing, and no matter how many times Rolins father tried the boy simply could not learn the trade of the merchant.
Angered by his son's inability to follow the family traditions, his father enlisted him into the military in hopes that the strict disciplin of the clans warrior caste would make him more susceptible to his fathers wishes.
The years passed and the training became ever more rigourous as is the tradition of dwarven warriors, and the lad now a young man were growing accustomed to military life, infact excelling at it.
But as more years passed by and Rolin long since completed his training the unimaginable occured, reports from weary travlers and merchants told tales of an unstoppable horde of horrors from the Underdark rampaging across the dwarven realms consumeing city after city, it became clear that Rolins clan and their neighbors were next.
As tradition and neccessity dictated the Clans united and marched towards their enemy sending all that they could to fight the horde, but to no avail and the dwarves lost more and more ground to the enemy, and after weeks of fighting the horde was at the doorstep of Rolins clan. In the battle that ensued in thier darkest hour something incredible happened. Something that can only be described as a miraculous and wicked intervention of fate, of all the dwarves on the battlelines one in thousands Rolin were the one to save the day in the most unlikely manner, tripping over the body of a fallen comrade Rolin fell into a nearby damaged tunnelpillar sending the tunnel roof crashing down upon the battlefield killing monsters and dwarves alike.
When the dust settled a single dwarf was seen emerging from the rubble that had closed the tunnel off, that dwarf was Rolin. Although wounded seriously he held his head up high, the battle was won and his clanhold was saved, so grand were his throughts that mere footsteps from the extended arms of the clans elders he dropped the jagged broken shield from his hand, while tripping over a rock and impaleing himself through the neck...
He was carried inside the clan hold and given all the funeral rights of a hero. and he earned his title The misfortunate because eventhough his luck was poor and fate took a wicked interest in him, he saved his home from certain death.
The moral of the story is even poor luck and malevomelnt twists of fate it cannot deter those with the will, the courage and the dedication from their duty.
Bad luck is still luck and not neccessarily a bad thing....
The End.
)The Tale of Rolin the Misfortunate.
Rolin was but a mere lad back in the days of the great dwarven realms where everything were peaceful and abundant, as the only son to a wealthy merchant, he was given the best that gold could aquire.
However Fate is a fickle thing, and no matter how many times Rolins father tried the boy simply could not learn the trade of the merchant.
Angered by his son's inability to follow the family traditions, his father enlisted him into the military in hopes that the strict disciplin of the clans warrior caste would make him more susceptible to his fathers wishes.
The years passed and the training became ever more rigourous as is the tradition of dwarven warriors, and the lad now a young man were growing accustomed to military life, infact excelling at it.
But as more years passed by and Rolin long since completed his training the unimaginable occured, reports from weary travlers and merchants told tales of an unstoppable horde of horrors from the Underdark rampaging across the dwarven realms consumeing city after city, it became clear that Rolins clan and their neighbors were next.
As tradition and neccessity dictated the Clans united and marched towards their enemy sending all that they could to fight the horde, but to no avail and the dwarves lost more and more ground to the enemy, and after weeks of fighting the horde was at the doorstep of Rolins clan. In the battle that ensued in thier darkest hour something incredible happened. Something that can only be described as a miraculous and wicked intervention of fate, of all the dwarves on the battlelines one in thousands Rolin were the one to save the day in the most unlikely manner, tripping over the body of a fallen comrade Rolin fell into a nearby damaged tunnelpillar sending the tunnel roof crashing down upon the battlefield killing monsters and dwarves alike.
When the dust settled a single dwarf was seen emerging from the rubble that had closed the tunnel off, that dwarf was Rolin. Although wounded seriously he held his head up high, the battle was won and his clanhold was saved, so grand were his throughts that mere footsteps from the extended arms of the clans elders he dropped the jagged broken shield from his hand, while tripping over a rock and impaleing himself through the neck...
He was carried inside the clan hold and given all the funeral rights of a hero. and he earned his title The misfortunate because eventhough his luck was poor and fate took a wicked interest in him, he saved his home from certain death.
The moral of the story is even poor luck and malevomelnt twists of fate it cannot deter those with the will, the courage and the dedication from their duty.
Bad luck is still luck and not neccessarily a bad thing....
The End.
