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Personal history

Varguth, like many Dwarves, was born into a mining community. His parents were both miners, and expected he would follow in their footsteps. His father was an angry man. He would stomp around the house, always upset at something. His mother was quiet. His father would say she “knows her place”.
Varguth was only 12 when he was first sent to work in the mines. This is especially young for a Dwarf, who are still considered in their youth until 50. Varguth had the build of a typical Dwarf. He was burly, with a red bushy beard, even from a young age. He took after his mother in that aspect. But despite his physique, he had no natural aptitude for the pickaxe. He toiled in the mines day in and day out, just like everyone else. But soon, he discovered that he was of more value to the miners when he told stories. They welcomed it, often going so far as to pick up his slack so he could perform while they worked. He would craft elaborate performances, filling half a dozen roles at once. The Dwarves would get to cheering and laughing so hard that the work eventually began to suffer. A supervisor caught on and told Varguth’s parents of his “little routine”. They disapproved. His father shouted “stone has treated us well, and when you’re in MY HOUSE, YOU WILL TREAT IT WITH RESPECT!”.
 
Varguth had seen enough of this life to know he wanted no part of it. He left it behind when he turned 30. He spent years traveling from tavern to tavern. He would share his stories and spin his tales. Eventually he made a name for himself among the bards of the land, and word reached a local theater company: The Scarlet Thespians. The company came to see Varguth perform one evening. He told a story that demonstrated his range, his humor and his capacity for deep introspectiveness. They were enthralled by his ability and quickly asked him to join them in the capital city for the grand opening of their new theater. Varguth took the last name Broadbelly as a stage title of sorts, leaving behind the old family name of Tricklestone.
 
He was a natural. He began to perform regularly with the Scarlet Thespians. They began with classic pieces written by bards of old, but eventually Varguth began to write his own stage shows. They were hits. People came from miles around to see them. Soon enough, Broadbelly was a household name in the city. Varguth performed with the theater for years. He took occasional extended haitises from performing to seek inspiration in the countryside, but managed to turn his acting into a lengthy career, more than the lifespan of many humans. At the age of 174, he was considering branching the company off to new regions. He even started to work on a new piece, one he considered to be his greatest yet.
 
At the beginning of that summer, a stranger rolled into town. It was a young human wizard. The man called himself “Staleous the Splendid”. He set up a colorful cart in the city center and began to perform various magical tricks. He began with small illusions, but eventually started creating larger arcane spectacles. Varguth wasn’t too concerned. When asked about it by the local chronicle, he said that this wasn’t true performance. He didn’t respect it. He said that this new flashy showmanship was more akin to say, a park full of amusements. It was not theater.
 
Varguth decided he needed to see these shows for himself. He set up in the town square amongst the rest of the audience to see the great Staleous perform. The wizard began weaving lights and illusions together. He created large images of monsters and large flashing lights. Varguth had seen enough. He yelled from the crowd at Staleous.
 
“You’re a hack!” he called out. “Where’s the passion? What’s the story? This is amateur work.”
 
Staleous glared at Varguth. He stopped the show early and began to pack his cart for the day. The crowd dispersed with mild disappointment.
 
Word got around quickly. So much so that Varguth was met with an unexpected visitor at his home late one night. It was the young wizard. He appeared to be drunk, so Varguth didn’t bother to open the door, but he could hear him yelling “I’d tell you that I’m just trying to make a living like everyone else, but maybe you just don’t get it, old man. This is the new wave. You’re just too stupid to understand it. I’ll show you true theater.”
 
He was awoken later that same evening by the city alarm bells. He ran to the window to see a fiery blaze illuminating the city in the dark night. The theater was on fire. He ran through the streets, pushing by crowds of onlookers. The local bucket brigade was no match. The human wizard arrived at the scene shortly afterwards. He cast a spell to create a rain cloud above the fire. Not enough to stop it, but enough to keep it from spreading. Varguth looked to his feet as a charred flyer drifted by. It advertised his new show, his magnum opus. The public would never see it now.
 
Varguth was approached by investigators the following day. He answered their questions earnestly. They asked what he’d seen. They asked where he’d been. Then they asked if he had any suspicions about who had started it. Varguth bit his tongue. He was torn. On one hand, of course he wanted to see authorities drag the wizard through the streets. But even if they found him guilty, would it bring Varguth any satisfaction? What if Staleous was right? Maybe Varguth was just too old. He packed his bags later that day and left town.
 
He took the name “Truman” to keep his identity secret as he traveled the countryside once more. Years of stage training made him decent with a sword, so he took to odd jobs that solved problems with force. One day he’d give that wizard a taste of his own medicine. One day…

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