Frida Torshield Is Just Kind Of Agitated Really

Astrid Orecrest was young, when her family joined the expedition to create a new mining colony. Even though she was young, she knew it would be tough.

And it was.

She grew in an environment of constant warfare, as her people struggled to establish themselves and stay safe against the constant heckling of the goblin hordes. As she came into adulthood, she saw their numbers dwindling, and she knew that if they took no action, they would be destroyed.

She spoke to the elders, and obtained their permission to take some of their most precious artifacts on a quest to seek help from the lair of the copper dragon which lived to the south. As a sharp and witty woman, she was sure that she could impress it and convince it to accept her gifts; and, in the end, she was right. It took her months to reach its territory, but once there, things went surprisingly smoothly. Her blood was blessed with the power to help her people regain their footing.

But in the end, she was too late.

By the time she returned, the goblins had already laid waste to the warren. Her people were dead. Most of the force had already left; in a rage, she took on those which remained, only to find herself forced to flee when she found that their numbers were too much for even her enhanced abilities.

The shame weighed on Astrid, and one part of her wanted to simply turn back and attack them again; but she was still an intelligent woman. She knew she had to wait.

She ended up settling in the human town of Sandpoint, after years of wandering. She found a husband, and had children.

Some part of her hoped that they would share her power.

She was disappointed.

Her son Bron stayed in Sandpoint with her, and after many years, she ended up moving into his tavern with his family. His wife was a nice enough woman, and they had a daughter, eventually. Frida Torshield reminded Astrid of herself; she was sharp, too, though less booksmart than her grandmother had ever been.

And much more of a handful. Perhaps that's the lack of discipline which arises when dwarves don't grow up in a creche of stone.

Frida was constantly picking fights and turning things into competitions. She quickly grew a reputation as being just as rowdy as the human boys she grew up with (and who grew so much quickly than she did -- luckily, she was good at making new friends). There were a few other dwarven children around her age, and these people she was especially competitive with -- she made rivals (if not enemies) of all of them, even the most stable boy who had arrived just recently from a mining commune.

Bron and his wife Tyra despaired, as she grew into a young woman with no marriage prospects to be seen. But Astrid, who had long given up on her son's bloodright, watched her carefully; and in her actions, she saw herself. Frida often displayed strength unnatural for her normal capacity, only to tire afterwards -- much like Astrid had done, when she first obtained her power.

When Bron came to his mother, talking about how he didn't know what to do with his rowdy daughter, who was causing trouble in their tavern and who no one would be willing to marry...

When he did that, his mother had a solution for him, though it wasn't one he wanted to hear.

His daughter was special, after all.

She should be allowed to embrace her power, hone it, and use it for good.

Bron protested -- no daughter of his was going to do something so dangerous! -- but in the end, his mother pointed out what he himself had told her. No one would marry his daughter, and her power made her unreliable as a heritor of the tavern. In the end, he relented.

When her grandmother approached her about her abilities, Frida was naturally confused; after all, it was just something she did. She didn't believe her heritage, at first; draconic power drawn to end a decades-long war seemed like something she'd hear in a bard's tale, not something her own family was involved in. But Astrid was telling the truth, and Frida recognised that, in the end.

Astrid proceeded to teach Frida everything she knew about her craft -- knowledge which, for all her years, still turned out to be frustratingly shallow. In those sessions, Frida explored how long she could use that strength before she found herself exhausted, and how to use the weapons and armour which she had no call to use before. It gave her a sense of purpose, and allowed her to operate in her normal life with a little more clarity; clarity which her father appreciated as he tried to pass on the techniques of the brewmaster to her.