The Origin of Spatt G'dan Chukk

A couple of years ago I participated for a while in 'play-by-post' D&D - basically a form of collaborative storytelling with a complicated game layer on top (or beneath).  The game I was in petered out when the dungeon master had to take a sabbatical, but I was fond of my character, so here for posterity is the origin of Spatt G'dan Chukk...

"Spatt G'dan Chukk is a scar-cheeked dwarven fighter, freebooting vagabond and veteran of the Bactari Exsurrection, where with some gusto he had kneecapped over twenty of his taller Varellian foes with his swirling warhammer before the distraction of a boot lost to the mud gave an opportunistic half orc the chance to land a heavily gauntleted fist squarely on top of his helmet, simultaneously breaking his nose and jamming it over his eyes. Undaunted, Spatt had charged his adversary, oblivious to the fact that the malodorous meat loaf had already gone down in a welter of quarrels, and the resulting misadventure pitched the dwarf head first into a ditch where he spent the rest of the battle sleeping peacefully. Of the four hundred militiamen and irregulars who had turned out to face down the cynical land-grab that morning, only two dozen survived to kick the Baron's (by then) naked arse in the direction of the Fell Marsh, and each eyed the dazed looking miniature myrmidon with some suspicion as he waddled over from the steaming carnage at the long-vacated east end of the battlefield. ButSpatt had survived the letter of the battle, whether or not he'd bested the spirit of it, and a liberal smattering of beer-sodden embellishments sown amongst the ale houses of the Southern Palatine were sufficient to etch his name in history, to the extent that it would give him a head start in securing any reasonable commission that took his fancy.

Spatt's father had been the legendary dwarf rogue Bax'n Ab Chukk, who met his untimely demise attempting an
ill thought through cesspit excursion when Spatt was still learning to dress and bevel bassalt. The size of the rogue's accumulated haul was the stuff of fevered speculation, but since Spatt was the Seventh Son of his industrious father's Ninth True Love, his dividend was likely to be meager, even if any would-be Executor had actually been able to locate Ab Chukk's estate in the first place.

Spatt's powers of concentration were not high, and having never mastered the art of abating an adoquin abutment he decided at the tender age of 40 to sign up with The King's Own Overground Legion, Seventh Cohort, 3rd Cave Group. A grumpy but productive apprenticeship ensued, ending in an unfortunate misunderstanding over the contents of the Cave Group Commander's back pack, whereupon Spatt found himself abandoned a hundred leagues from home, and deeply mistrustful of any animal able to convey him back there before his beard turned grey.

And so, armed only with his genetic predisposition to larceny and a crude, low altitude competence with hafted weapons, Spatt Waz Bax'n Ab G'dan Chukk set off to make his fortune in this world, or any other that took his fancy..."