“I do be Grayden Ironbelly, son of Garn, son of Bieldon. I hail from the Mountains of Crying Lake where King Gudantral rules with a hard but firm hand in the halls of Duerhain.
Duerhain has been me home fer many, many years. Me family are miners by trade and that’s what I have done fer most of me life. When not mining I’ve answered the call of me king ,many times over the years, to stand forth and defends its halls. By me side one has stood during these times, Clangeddin Silverbeard a Dwarven God that I respect above all others.
I do be a simple Dwarf. When ye reach this age, its not about bragging… its about surviving to the next day. I still do drink me share of spirits, however, but it is nothing like it once was. With the sharing of spirits comes the occasional brag… so I am not perfect.
There is not much about me beyond what ye see. Aye… I have fought in battles and I have defeated bigger foes than I. But remember ye this: As Clangeddin says `Battles do not make ye great, its how ye face the battle and how ye finish it that tell us who ye be. Only after ye have proven yer valor may ye brag.` Yeah, that last part was mine.”
A strange looking Dwarf greets your eyes. His mining helmet rests atop his head with its small candle lopsided in its mirrored bracket. On top of the helmet a large spike rises, mostly, straight up, obviously used to skewer goblins. The strap from the helmet fits snuggly beneath his chin causing his silver beard to stick straight out at a horizontal angle. Small round glasses rest on a large nose that is common amongst Dwarves. His crows feet squint lines are deeper than a normal Dwarf his age. Grayden is obviously in his late years. 
