lore

As tough as the mountains themselves, and with memories that last almost as long, many dwarves carve their homes from the very bones of the earth. Forgers of the finest works of steel and gold, they are as mighty as they are determined. Should you try to take that which is theirs, you will face the full vengeance of the Dwarven Holds!

Though the Dwarven Empire fell at the end of the Golden Age, the Holds still control the most lucrative mines of Vetia, producing the finest armours and jewellery. Despite their strong personalities, fierce individuality and allegiances to family and clan reaching back centuries, every dwarf knows their place and would lay down their lives for their Hold.

The Dwarves of Vetia shun the nether powers, unlike their eastern brethren. But if a hold-dwarf were to learn magic somehow, what would happen to him? Would he be shunned, exiled, imprisoned, executed? If executed, could he find refuge with his eastern kin?
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I can’t say I have spoken with any dwarves at length on this topic, they seem to be rather closemouthed whenever matters of the arcane are raised. From my own studies, I have found the dwarven relationship with magic to be one of necessity rather than choice or culture. The wolfram which dwarves craft into all manner of potent enchantments appears to draw magic from the surrounding area, once one schooled in the arts has worked rune into it. I have speculated that this is the source of its capacity for power, yet the very quality which gives it this potential makes it very hard to study with magic. Wizards on the battlefield report that being in proximity of so many runes can make it difficult to cast spells effectively. Now imagine living within a hold, surrounded by items crafted with wolfram, of which every hold dwarf appears to possess and carry at least one, and it is soon apparent why most dwarves in that situation do not display or develop a magical aptitude. I have heard stories, albeit rare and not something I have substantiated personally, that dwarves with a talent and a desire to learn have made that unlikely transition from the holds of the mountains to the ziggurats of the plains. Certainly, those who can cast spells are well respected by the Infernal Dwarves, making it a more natural home.

Are dwarves patriarchal, or are there dwarven queens?
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An interesting point, which strikes at dwarven society on a wider level. Dwarves appear to have little regard for gender. Male and female dwarves can be clearly distinguished, but aside from the duties of childrearing, they both participate at all levels of dwarven society.
The word “King” is our best translation for their title, yet there are no gender specific titles, and no special honours afforded to the partners of a King. I have observed female Kings as regularly as males in the records.
This focus on merit runs very strongly through their society. Inheritance has no direct translation in Dwarven. Parents and children work toward a common cause but handed down wealth and power is all but unknown.
To some, this represents an equality and industrious attitude through dwarven society.
Yet for others, their every effort is turned to work, whereas privilege in our society affords elites to turn their mind to more elevated and intellectual concerns.

Dwarves are perhaps the most indomitable of beings. Magic, corruption, disease, aging – they resist all these with a force of will centuries after others would have succumbed. Yet theirs is a troubled history, for while the two greatest of the dwarven civilisations once worked together for a time, their Empire was undone by the many calamities of the Ages of Ruin, with each side claiming betrayal and shaming their brothers. Still, both retain the ingenuity of their forefathers and the lust for gold and precious gems which dominates their histories.

Yes, my boy. Them Drigniz... Infernal Dwarves... they ain’t right folk. Left the mountain a long time ago. But the mountain never left them, see? Gets them building mountains where there are none. Want to show who’s better. Want to be better than the mountains, I reckon. Better than iron, too. Better than gold, gams an’ truesilver. Got no respect for the mountain or its gifts no more. Slavers? Aye, can’t make gold kneel before you, eh? But what honest dwarf lets another do his work for him? No lad, them Infernal Dwarves ain’t right at all.

Vetia is the land of mankind, where nations of men have reigned for years under the protective sight of the Goddess and her church. There, the powerful nation of Sonnstahl guards all mankind against the dangers of the Wasteland, while to the south the merchant cities of Arcalea ply their trade with the whole of the world. There you will also find the White Mountains, impenetrable hold of the Dwarves.

It is said there are dwarves in the north. High in the Jotun peaks where the Åsklanders roam. Their holds are hidden by ancient runes and sealed in their mountain strongholds. Closed off from the rest of the world, they amass wealth and craft fantastic artifacts. One of the most interesting stories I heard was of a lost hold. A group of enterprising dwarves set out from their mountain home in search of a trade route between the Jotun Mountains and Avras. The trip took many years, and when they finally returned, they could not find their home. Destined to live out their years roaming the inhospitable peaks, these dwarves in their shame, became increasingly desolate and isolationist. Seldom mixing with even their own kind. Some, it is said, tamed the giant bears of the mountains and now use them as mounts to better search for the lost hold. I came across such a character on one of my journeys to the beacons. Gorik Bearblood was his name and he communicated only with gestures. Yet his tired eyes spoke of immense pain and suffering. I could not help but pitying the fellow.

We found vermin in those hills and not the kind that you might keep as a pet. These were big bastards, walking on two legs! They gave us a right hiding that day… Yeah, ill tell you the tale. But it’ll cost you another ale and a few more by the time I’m finished.

We had been mining the tin in the hills. Sending it up the river to Vanez. The vermin problem had been there from the start y’see. But the Clan had invested too much to back out of the operation. To begin with we suppressed them. But they got bolder. Eventually we faced a whole army of the things. Where they came from, I don’t know. I was a ranger. Scouted them hills every day and didn’t see head nor tail of them! My guess is that they live in burrows in the hills. Sometimes they would collapse our mines and make off with a few of our number. Small attacks. Nothing major. These losses were acceptable to the Clan and their families compensated. Then the Seekers came. Two of them. Weird folks are Seekers. I guess they had heard about those Dwarves that were lost in the mines. Came to exact vengeance on the vermin as the Clan was intent to do nothing. That’s when the problems started.

The Seekers had been stirring up trouble. “Protecting the honor of the Clan and ensuring the Oath of Protection was upheld,” they said. Yes, one more ale. Where was I? The Seekers. They follow the old ways. The “Gods” they say. Wear amulets and not much else. Spend their time praying and pursuing oathbreakers. Ah yes, they were here to hunt the Vermin. Make sure the Clan’s honour was maintained. But they stuck their beards in and stirred up something vile under that moor. Korontav the locals called it, aye.

It was a dark night they came. Cloudy but no rain. I was about to head out with my band of Rangers when the alarm went up. We were out the gate and drawn up for battle in no time. We weren’t ready for them. We assumed it was just a rag-tag raiding party. Nothing organized. When we looked across the moor that night, I admit that I felt fear in my heart. They had come in force…

Yes, I know it’s my fourth. Do you want to hear this story or not? …Those Seekers speak of Gods but there was no Gods helping us that night, I tell you. I’ve never seen anything like it. From out of the sky came a fiery piece of mountain! How unnatural. Rock, falling from the sky. This was clearly the work of the vermin. It hit us square in our midst. One of the Seekers. Bravest Dwarf I ever met. He saw it coming. Stood right there. Sang a prayer to these “Old Gods” and took it. Right in the face. The rock was huge. Completely pulverised him along with all our artillery! Made a crater the size of this ale house! The other Seeker, you might know him as Duthar? Aye the same Duthar. Well he was smart enough to get out of the way. Maybe his faith in the “true Gods” was not as unwavering as the songs sing, eh? We were under fire from falling mountains and a deadly hail of gunshot and the battle had hardly been joined by the rest of the lads. I knew here that it would be a long night.

No, I haven’t had enough… stop interrupting me. I need a drink in my hand when I praise the dead! We gave ‘em hell back, let me tell you! Back in my day I was a crack shot. After a few volleys those gunners fled with their tales between their legs. We were too much for them. Shame about the rest of the clan. Those boys were dropping and there wasn’t much we could do about it.

Aye lad, I Saw him. Saw it when Duthar died. It was glorious. These Seekers, they eschew armour you see. Think it dishonours the old ways or something. It’s all superstition. Yes, I know the ballad. I was there. Well if he wore armour, he might have survived, ay? Anyway. Duthar gave the beast a mortal blow, right in the side of the neck. His axe was buried deep in the monstrosity. How big you say? As big as this table. Ive never seen a rat so big. And one of their leaders was riding it like a horse. Madness. Anyway, his axe got stuck, and well, the monstrous rat took chomped right down on his shoulder, its teeth sinking into his stomach and lower back. An equally mortal blow. Right away the colour washed from his face. He knew he was done. With a roar, Duthar ripped out his axe. All this blood and pus followed. Acid it was. Burned all his arm and face. That’s why they call him the Bloody-Handed. With his death blow, Duthar smote the beast a final strike right back into the wound he had made. Almost took the things head clean of, it did. As I said, those Seekers are a brave bunch. The beast came down on top of him, rider and all. Was a sad day. We lost a lot good Dwarves that day. Here’s to them! Duthar.

I didn’t see the last stand of the Greybeards. Those old codgers. Stubborn to the last I bet. Here’s to them! I was well away by then. I’d lost most of my unit and the Hold Banner was in the dirt. And another! For my fallen comrades and the lost banner! Those damned Vermin. The Vengeance Seekers will be back to Korontav Moor. The ballad? Aye, the ballad. Get me another ale and you’ll hear it...

Died in vain, heros all.
Duthar and Telvan did stride among them;
Two Seekers striving to meet their Gods.

Their foe was the Rat-Men, five-thousand strong;
Dark magics, fell machines and monstrosities thronged!
With heavy hearts did the Clan sally fourth;
Led by Seekers, upon the Moor.

Late was the hour that the two forces clashed;
The wrath of the Rat-God sending fire and flash.
Woe to the Clan.
A meteor was called;
Blazing from the sky.

Brave and foolhardy,
Telvan stood tall;
Facing his doom, the comet did fall.
It struck him from this earth with a mighty blow;
The fate of the hero in sight of his Gods. Telvan!

The melee swirled upon Korontav hill;
The vermin’s plagues spreading ill.
Upon his hellish steed, the tyrant did shriek;
Onwards to victory!

The battle was lost, yet honour demanded;
The last stand of Duthar the bloody-handed.
He smote the beast a terrible wound.
Deep in the neck of the gigantic rat.

A mortal blow.
Yet the Rat struck in return.
The Seeker was felled at the battles turn.
In sight of his Gods, Duthar did not flinch.
Once more his axe hewed.

Deep into the neck of the best it went;
With his deathblow Duthar’s life was spent.
Monstrosity and chieftain fell.
Slain to the earth. Duthar!

After brave last stand the battle was done.
Upon Korontav Moor, noble Dwarves were none.
Tragedy of the clan.
Failure of the hold.
Death of the Seekers.

Now lad. Leave me to my cup.

So it is that our souls on death cross the Veil, to be claimed by our gods and find an eternal home in the strongholds of the human deities, or the fey realms of elven gods. There we rest, and lend our strength to the Immortal beings we served in life. A chosen few, some say, greatest of soul and spirit, may be chosen to be born again into this Mortal Realm, to champion their god once more. For ordinary mortals, the most we can hope is to serve well and earn the protection of the gods. The manner of such worship varies widely: dwarves with their stern rituals, ogres and their grand feasts, greenhides and their gifts of blood and battle. I wander the world in search of a god to inspire this passion in me and to devote myself to, in the hope of earning a place in eternity.

A Goblin entered into partnership with an Ogre on the pretense of becoming his servant. Each undertook his proper duty in accordance with his own nature and powers. The Goblin discovered and pointed out the prey; the Ogre sprang on it and seized it. The Goblin soon became jealous of the Ogre carrying off the majority of the spoils, and said that he would no longer find out the prey. After a month, both starved without the other.

Dwarven Saying "You don’t play the battlepipes, the pipes play you."

" Meltav. You’re a dwarf." "An’ you’re observant.

Was it th’ beard or th’ axe that gave it away?"

"What I mean, Meltav, is that you might have some keen tactical insights to offer on the foe this company faces tomorrow."

"Ah, stow it Vicenzo. These’re Eastern Dwarves - from th’ Infernal lands. Barely know a bloody thing abou’ them."

"Try."

"Ah, fine. I saw them guns while they were wheelin’ them in t’ position. Big basts’ they are. Overengineered if y’ ask me."

"Yes Meltav, we are asking you."

"Fine, fine. They look odd. Any guildsman worth his pay would make his guns to a tried an’ true method, an’ y’ could tell what they do by the way they look. Those? Look bloody obscene. Damned if’n I have the foggiest what they’re s’posed t’ do."

Do female dwarves have beards? A simple question with a simple answer, how novel! No, having conversed with many of the fairer dwarven sex, I can tell you that beards are not a part of their makeup. Such things form the basis of derogatory tales and vulgar jokes, made at a dwarf’s expense, though beware - such a jest can have painful consequences.