[hider=Branack of the Lonely Mountain]Ah, the tales of woe from Branack's father's father's father of the time when the shadow was cast upon the whole of Khazad-dum. That was where the story of the Dwarf's kinsfolk began. For the great grandfather Narin of Khazad-dum and his group of Dwarves fled to the Lonely Mountain, accompanying the honorable Thrain I.

Laden with sorrow and defeat, the hearty Dwarves nevertheless set to work almost immediately, building their Kingdom that not only began to grow, but thrive! Branack was born in this Kingdom, rife with commerce, crafts, and the hewing of rock. It was in the latter that he began his career, starting his long history of wielding the pick at age 30 (still quite young for a Dwarf, mind you!).

For thirty winters after his thirtieth year, he hacked and carved the stone, finding precious minerals for his Kingdom and Kin alike. Branack was found to be a tireless worker, as well as a fine song writer all things considered. His father made him a special war mattock on his fiftieth year of life, the year a Dwarf's beard reaches his belt. Oh, and this Dwarf had a great black beard that blended into his dark tunic.

Branack never thought he'd need to use his father's weapon, but it was a call from his 3rd cousin Galin in the Grey Mountains that sent word of a great incursion of Goblins that had arisen deep in the mountains. No call to war was raised by Erebor, but volunteers could be sent over to help quell this threat. With the pride of a son of Aulë, the young Khazad and a force of 300 rough and ready Dwarves marched to the Grey mountains night and day.

It was a brief but dark struggle under the halls of the Grey Mountains. With Axe and Hammer and Pick and even Sword did they fight! Cleaving and dying in the darkness of the tunnels against the foul Goblins of the mountain. Branack made a fine accounting of himself, having slain near a dozen over the course of the fighting, and two years later the small war had ended. The Goblin chieftan Nazruk had been slain by Thrain's cousin Fwalin of the Longbeards.

Branack was seventy two now, and as he made his way back to his home, he realized just how wide the world was outside of the Lonely Mountain and the halls he hewed rock in. He began to visit the men of Laketown, and began to help in trade between them and the Lonely mountain, selling his father's wares and learning a bit of his father's craft. It was nearing his 90th winter when he received word of a great threat in the south, and a letter to visit Aldburg.

With an unerring sense of duty, and his desire of travel being sated with this mission, he set out at once, his War mattock at his shoulder and a firm look of rock and steel in his eyes. "Baruk Khazâd! Khazâd ai-mênu!" [/hider]