Ungus was too drunk and passed out to write a journal entry last session (surprisingly uncharacteristic for him despite being a dwarf), so instead here’s a bit of background about Ungus’ motivation for adventuring; his father.

The Hullack forest was the picture of serenity in the early morning, as the mist rolled in.  One of the most ancient forests of Faerun, it had gained a reputation for being abundant with game and monster alike- rumours abound of lost tombs inhabited with ghosts, and hidden vales where centaurs and satyrs lived oblivious to the outside world.
A sudden chitter from a blackbird escaping the undergrowth caused an almost imperceptible shift in the leaves of the trees and a sound not unlike the creaking of a branch despite the stillness of the air.  Moments later came the sounds of a chase on the forest floor, leaves rustling as they were crunched underfoot and the unmistakable sound of a goblin screaming after someone.  As soon as the goblin and its prey were in sight, the elf that had remained expertly hidden in the trees let loose his arrow- a powerful shot that whistled through the air, and narrowly missed the goblin’s head.  Damn, he whispered under his breath as he swung down to the ground, taking up a running pace beside his companion.  The human was careful not to slow down, but gave a sideways glance to the elf with a smirk.
‘I expected better from an elf!’
‘I’m not the one who got spotted by a goblin’ The elf replied, matter of factly, ‘Come on.  We’re nearly between the stag’s lights.’
Sure enough, as the forest thinned all that could be seen through the mist was a light in the distance.  With that as their only waypoint, they headed straight for it, the goblin still in hot pursuit.
‘Hey! Little help here!’ the human cried out, moments later followed by a whistle and the sound of someone running towards them.  A sudden figure appeared, axe raised, but they continued to run towards the light until they heard a guttural grunt behind them followed by the pained shrieking of a goblin being cleaved, then silence once more.
The source of the light was a lantern atop an ornate stone bridge, known affectionately by locals as the Stag Skull bridge.  Once there, a man dressed in armour with a purple cloak greeted them with a smile.  The hunters knew they had reached safety and stopped to catch their breath and thank their saviour.  Able to get a closer look at him as he reemerged from the mist, the figure was that of a dwarf also clad in armour with the signature cloak of a Purple Dragon.
‘Thank you Unthar.  We are in your debt’ said the elf, bowing with respect.  The dwarf simply nodded in response before walking to the edge of the bridge, setting up a stake, and impaling the head of the goblin upon it.

Later that day the two hunters stopped by The Furniture’s Fate; a tavern of some notoriety in Thunderstone for its frequent brawls, often instigated by the gnomish proprietor Boffo himself who seemed to revel in the thrill of being able to fight without ever being in any real danger of death.  Things were unusually peaceful when the hunters arrived.  Stig, the bouncer of immense proportions, noticed their confusion and simply said ‘Unthar’s in’.  Sure enough, inside were the regulars all looking restless, none more so than Boffo who kept glancing nervously at Unthar who was keeping to himself in the corner, still wearing his armour though now clean of goblin blood.  The dwarf locked eyes with the pair as they entered, and seemingly satisfied went back to quietly sipping his drink.  The human raised two fingers at the gnome who hurriedly got to pouring pints.
‘I thought he’d be at the Dragon’s Den,’ said the human, giving a nod towards Unthar.
‘No, He doesn’t like socialising with the other dragons.  Can’t say I blame him, the ones here aren’t your typical Purple Dragons.’
The human slid a couple of copper pieces across the bar as Boffo passed over the ales.
‘How so?’
‘Well they’re supposed to be champions of law and justice right? Don’t get me wrong, they’re doing a great service to Cormyr, but Laheralson’s too soft on them.  Thinks their morale’s more important than discipline, and he may have a point but that shouldn’t give them free reign to do whatever they want.  They’ll arrest you just for setting foot in ‘their’ pub’.
‘I can see why that would upset a dwarf.  Poor guy.  But why stay in Thunderstone if he doesn’t agree with Laheralson? Why not go somewhere like Wheloon?’
The elf shook his head.
‘He’s got too much investment here.  If it weren’t for him there might not even be a Thunderstone.  It was before you got here, but this town used to be under constant siege by an ettin and his orc and goblin army.  It’s said that Alusair herself requested the dwarves’ assistance, as they have experience fighting giants and orcs and she felt she was owed a favour after her adventuring with them.  Unthar was part of the group that was sent, and the only one to take up permanent residence here.  Only he knows why he ultimately stayed, though I suspect it’s a sense of duty towards one deserving of such respect as the Steel Regent.’
The hunters both looked over at Unthar, who seemed to be lost in thought.  As if reaching a decision, he finished the rest of his drink in a single gulp then stood up and left silently, all eyes on him.
A few minutes later Boffo used Mage Hand to knock over someone’s pint, blaming it on the elf, and yet another fight broke out.

Back at the bridge there was another purple dragon on guard, looking incredibly bored.  He noticed Unthar approach and gave a lazy salute, but Unthar continued in ignorance, still lost in thought.  He walked down the river a little way before finding a rocky outcrop that had a small cave entrance in the side, once used as a hiding spot for goblin scouts.  Inside was another dwarf, kneeling next to a small pile of rocks in prayer.  A singular lotus flower lay at the base of the monument.
‘It’s time, Ungus.’ said Unthar.