OKAY OKAY — QUIT LAUGHING!
I’m not to blame for any of this names nonsense.
Look me in the eye, and you’ll feel my dwarven spirit burning bright and true from the depths of my soul.
Call upon my axe, and you’ll know mighty cleaving and slaying as would terrify all malevolent humanoids.
Test my resolve, and you’ll witness unyielding determination — an unrelenting commitment to the cause that knows no dying breath.
But … yes … I admit … it’s true.
Sporin Aethelwaft was born on Elven soil.
And it’s AethelHAFT, Goddammit!
Haft! Haft! Haft!
As in Sharp Axe Blade, Primed to Slaughter Evil!
But I am nothing if not a resolute defender of The Law.
Fantasy worldbuilding rules are fantasy worldbuilding rules, and so it is that I am forced to adopt the name of my birthplace, *aaaack* … Lyrylliaponcydel.
As for the Waft part, my clan is still in dispute with the wretched elves hailing from said vile quasi-Nirvana, and by the Gods, I will reclaim my birthright!
To all who would wish to preserve their honour and integrity, I offer three wise reflections as counsel …
1) If, upon returning home from a perilous quest to slay the dragon Hellfireraptor, your clan should be forced to make its way through Lyrylliaponcydel instead of The Howling Wraith Ravine, be sure to risk death and take the Ravine path.
2) If you’re a hearty Dwarven warrior gal questing in order to lose weight while you slay evil, check you’re not actually pregnant before you throw on the solid lead battle armour. Thank you, Mother.
3) When the elves who helped bring your Leader-to-be into the world suggest a branding makeover to help with your marketing efforts — ie a switch from the aggressive-sounding HAFT to the more lyrical and breezy WAFT — be sure to check those fey rascals are not employing powerful CHARM magicks to make your entire clan look ridiculous as they nod in hapless agreement, squealing oh yes please, yes please, yes please. Thank you, Father.