It is against the nature of dragonborn to be indecisive, there is little neutrality to be found; only good and evil. It matters less which you align yourself with so long as you strongly identify yourself with it. To be truly dedicated to a cause as a dragonborn is honor, and honor is their most valued trait. Tirnen's clan had already aligned themselves with a harsh and cold reality, the strong prevail and the weak are shunned.

Tirnen had no memory of his formative years, being unsure if he had even hatched in the same clan as his peers at all. All he knew is that he had an unquenchable thrist for violence and murder, a feeling that came in episodes and strongly defied his moral compass. Aside from having to keep this dark urge a secret, his lack of lineage also isolated him at times, becoming a great source of insecurity as he had no family achievements or titles to pride himself on. To remedy this lack of hereditary honor, Tirnen began to prioritize strength, becoming a respected barbarian and wielding the clan's heaviest axe. The barbarian route was an excellent solution, as it not only brought him honor, but also satiated his violent urges (which, in turn, only motivated him to become an even better barbarian). So far, this seemed like the most honorable way to go about wanting to murder. Tirnen was now the most revered war general in his region due to his relentlessness and lack of hesitation to kill.

On a long expedition with his battalion, Tirnen came across the temple of Bhaal, God of Murder. He was overcome with a foreign sense of familiarity he had never felt before. He felt home. The expedition had proved futile, no resources or intel of use could be spotted, only the occasional cultist heretic. It kept him up that night, thoughts of that temple. Perhaps this was because of his tendency to kill? Maybe he was just curious? Well, that mission proved fruitful in one regard; it gave Tirnen the answer he was looking for. It was then that ideas sprouted in his head, an explanation for his murderous urges that he so often tried to fight off. Should he embrace them? Should he continue to ward them off? That night he snuck out of his clan in search of clarification, making his way through tunnels, catacombs, and sewers until he finally arrived at his destination.

As he (not-so-discreetly) marched through the tall doors of the Temple of Bhaal, Tirnen was met with an unexpected audience that was nowhere to be found earlier that day. The previously deserted temple was crowded with imps and undeads bowing their heads, forming a clear path that led to a carved stone mural. He was on high alert, ready to strike at any of these creatures if they even moved a single muscle, his confusion was betrayed by his curiosity as he walked down the path. He approached the mural in question which, curiously, depicted a black Dragonborn raising his axe afore an army of followers, the pose and appearance mirrored his own, it prophesied this very moment. Memories came rushing back and a familiar voice echoed in his head, "My Chosen. My Slayer. Violence incarnate. You will become a testament in blood." , it said. Tirnen could finally breathe, his urges finally made sense now. Hell, everything made sense now. Tirnen turned around to face his army, he admired their peeling skin, their rotted bones, their undying devotion. "I am blood, I am death, I will pave my path with corpses, build my castle with bones." , He roared, raising his axe.

At last, Tirnen knew. He held the most honorable title of all, this was his cause and dedication, his strength was beyond comprehension. He was the son of Bhaal, God of Murder.