His family…his friends…the townspeople. Every last one of them.
They drove him from his home. They mocked his handiwork. They taunted him for his disability.
They told him he would never amount to anything.
Ostracized and shunned, Hobglup settled in a remote area of the Paasvadh forest, living the life of a hermit. Deft of hand and keen of eye, the Dwarf spent every waking moment honing his skill and focusing his attention on what would help him achieve his goals: dolls.
He tirelessly devoted his time creating wondrously detailed golems and automatons, perfecting his craft in isolation. For eighty years he toiled. As he became more and more confident, he painstakingly made his way to nearby villages, leaving the fruits of his labors at the doorstep or window of a home he knew to contain a child. He would then lie in wait nearby, hoping for proof that even the most observant and intelligent parents would be tricked by his dormant soldiers.
Finally, he knew he was ready. He had reached the pinnacle of his ability and achieved a level of skill that no other could hope to match.
His dolls were ready to take over the world, so he made his way to the major cities of Elanthia to unleash his army.
A simple Dwarf.
Horribly disfigured and down to his last chance to show all those that shunned him they were wrong.
Hoping for revenge.
Hoping that he'll finally make a name for himself.
Hoping that everyone would see what he was capable of.