Over the past 200 years, Clarence has adventured with a variety of different folk from a variety of different background.

 

Originally, starting his adventures in the hope of earning enough money to buy his father the forge he always wanted, Clarence was bright eyed and full of dreams when he started his journey adventuring.

 

He worshiped the God of Veterans, known to him as "Old Grom", and sought to bring good health and practical Dwarven wisdom to those he traveled with.  However this eagerness has slowly faded over the years, as more time went on and he witnessed many fellow adventurers die, all in easily preventable situations.

 

Adventuring is all Clarence knows how to do, so rather than re-train he has come to terms with his lot in life, and continues to hang around taverns and inns. He takes jobs with new groups of adventurers in the near faded hope of a team that wont end up like the rest.

 

Sadly, our party was the one he joined that turned out to be his last. Clarence met his end in the most noble fashion possible; attempting to save an innocent life. His pipe and smokeweed now reside with Rhylind Westfall, and his hammer and holy icon is in the possession of Skairn Fell-spar.