Darin the Frostborn was born into a family of barbarians in the frozen northern wastelands of Volaria. He was sent off to work in the ice mines as soon as he was old enough to wield an axe, never missing a chance to play a trick on the Mine Lord , which won him many friends and many rounds of Volaråd.
Once he had left the mines, he took his axe to raiding, riding with many different clans throughout the years. His exploits quickly became legend among his companions; who else would witness six palace guards mistreating an innocent and take them on empty handed, and win?
He marauded across the northern waste and back many times, defending the helpless with hammer like fists and leaving tales of mirth and madness in his wake - this lead him to ascend the ranks to Warchief of the Northern Clans.
Only when he crossed into the southern lands of Volaria did he first set foot on a starship, a rusted wreck crewed by criminals and captained by a madwoman. Aboard these ships, he learned everything there is to know about ship repair and operations, as everything on the craft broke at least once while he was on the crew.
When the dragons first attacked, Darin was strapped to the fuselage of a maintenance craft repairing a capacitor. In a feat that can be described as either bravery or reckless stupidity, he unclipped his safety harness and jumped astride a dragons neck that was attacking an escaping ship, hacking at the beast with his trusty axe until it fell limp, plasma spilling from its wounds as it began its plummet towards the planet surface.
A stroke of luck in free fall allowed him to grab ahold of the ship he’d just helped escape. As fate would have it, this was the mercenary crew of the Dragonlord. They took Darin in as one of their own, and he has been traversing the galaxy with them ever since…