Incurring regular whoopings from his uncle for even the slightest infraction (and sometimes just for doing something too well), Durgin spent as much time out of the house as he could. His only friends were hopeless misfits like himself with equally disfunctional families, and by the time he reached adulthood, Durgin had worked his way up the sociopathic ladder and landed himself a cushy job on the brute squad of the local thieves' guild. He got paid to inflict pain on others, and he used most of his earnings to feed his alcoholism, the only thing that his now dead Uncle Borg had left him to inherit.
Durgin's fate seemed sealed. He would continue his spiral of self destruction until one day, some poor street rat would find his body curled up in a ditch, dead of anything other than "natural causes". Things seemed hopeless for the poor dwarf whom life had dealt a bum hand, until…
One day on the job, Durgin was sent to collect some interest owed by a local vendor. To his surprise, the vendor's cousin happened to be visiting that day; the vendor's cousin also happened to be a 6'8" dragonborn Paladin of Bahamut. After a brief and not-so-epic physical confrontation, Durgin found himself regaining consciousness on a hill outside of town, several feet off of the ground. Inspecting the situation, Durgin discovered he was standing on a stool with a noose around his neck and large bump on his noggin.
A familiar draconic face stared at him with flaming red eyes. "The Lord of Dragons has found you guilty of extortion, assault, and general ne'er-do-wellness," the paladin growled. "By the power invested in me, I declare you a plague to society. Your sentence… death by hanging."
Durgin looked on with fear. He never had any reason to live, but he suddenly found himself incredibly scared of the notion of death. For the first time he questioned the meaning of things, he wondered what was to come after the gallows, and the thought of it terrified him. His contrition, imperfect though it was, brought a tear to the dwarf's eye. He just wished he could have a second chance.
The paladin must have recognized the pathetic wretch's remorse, for he gave Durgin an option: "Should you choose, though, you may keep your life, but a suitable penance must be undertaken to repair the damage your sinful ways have caused."
Durgin didn't know what such a penance entailed, but he would take anything over death. So without hesitation, he accepted the paladin's mercy and began a new life of hard work, honesty, and simple living. For three months he traveled with the paladin, whose name was Sir Kashik, serving as his page and slowly growing from a relationship of grudging servitude to one of genuine friendship. Sir Kashik taught Durgin the tenets and prayers of Bahamut and trained him in the ways of honorable combat.
One day during their travels, the two were waylaid by a powerful lich known only as Thorn, an old enemy of Sir Kashik from adventures long passed. The wise paladin, certain that Durgin could not stand in such a battle and fearing that conventional escape was impossible, gave his dwarven ward a small glass ball and beckoned him to break it at his feet. Durgin, who trusted Sir Kashik as a father, obeyed, and found himself immersed in magical energy and whisked away to another land. He wanders this foreign plane, unsure of what befell his companion, but certain that his Lord Bahamut still watches over him.