Male Gold Dwarf, thief, hand crossbow specialist and slave tasked to drive the chuck wagon, chained to the plump halfling cook Shroomy.
That day finally came. Orruhm had practiced the art of concealment in his time in the mines, it had cost him several lashes with the whip each time he garnered a temporary moment of success but he hoped the price was worth the knowledge he gained in mastering stealth. Hiding from a drow was no easy task. On this day as he swung his pick against the stone the cavern wall began to ooze cool water. Soon there was a pool of tepid gray mud at Orruhm’s feet and a plan quickly formulated in his head. As the guard turned his back, Orruhm faked a slip in the slough, loudly enough to ensure the the drow’s attention. He lay perfectly still as if unconscious, gritting his teeth, in anticipation of the coming lash. The guard approached cautiously, advancing only close enough the reach the fallen slave with his whip. He struck sharply once, then twice just to be sure. Orruhm stoically took the blows not flinching in the least, firming his grip on the pick concealed beneath the mud. The drow moved closer to the Orruhm giving him a hard nudge with his boot. As the guard bent over, to more closely examine the dwarf, Orruhm struck like a coiled viper planting the pick deeply into the drow’s forehead. He quickly pushed the drow into the muddy hole, scooping up loose debris and piling it on his victim in a vain effort to conceal the body. Covered with the concealing cool mud he stealthily made his way to a narrow chimney he had spied weeks before.
Orruhm’s luck held as he made his way to the chimney undetected. He struggled to squeeze through the tight hole but finally prevailed, finding himself in a narrow tunnel in the lightless Underdark.
Orruhm scavenged and fought through countless encounters in the following weeks until at last reaching the surface near the city of Sarthel. Once sneaking into the city he began a new profession as a thief and street tough, his only friends his tiny cross bow and war pick. It wasn’t long until he was caught in an ill-conceived theft and given the choice of his hands or slavery. He chose the latter. He had escaped from the drow, freeing himself from these humans couldn’t pose much of a challenge.
That’s how he found himself chained to the driver’s seat of a caravan chuck wagon heading north to the Nentir Vale. The caravan’s cook,also a slave, sat chained next to him. A strange chubby little halfling with a weird name…Shroomy.