Hamskald should have been a bard. From an early age he would make up stories at the dinner table, telling and embellishing them while waving around a ham bone.  For this he was given the name "Hamskald", and so far he has not admitted to having a true name.

As a foot soldier for Thorin's Hall infantry, he was a disaster.  A little too fidgety to stand in formation, no love for the axe and shield, the dwarf could not stay regimented to save his career.  His weapon trainer used to take him aside for some fatherly counseling, but it was all for naught. For professional training, he had made a passable heavy armor, and seemed to take to {gasp} SEWING lighter armors, but would have nothing to do with casting weapons.

Being laughed at a lot at an early age taught him to be a brawler and skirmisher. His favorite tactic then, and still is, the head-butt. And maybe it's the prospecting, but hammers/smashing seems to give an unholy attraction.

Not sure of what his role in life would ever be, he found redemption in of all things, an elf Lore-Master, Gladnagl. She had been learning some of the finer points of prospecting and jewelry crafting when they bumped into each other in the Crafting Hall, sharing a copper crucible. Somehow the thought of an elf forging was as funny and story-worthy as a dwarven tailor. And so Hamskald became the second recruit to the Order of Rosicalli, with no clear role in mind other than to do things worthy of a bard's song.