User:Heartwood paradise/sandbox

Falo Deathvein – The Seeker Ovgar Fireforger – Mtn City Founder Delthen Fatecarver – Hill City Founder Thealla Hammerfist – War Council Assassin and founder of the Marine Dwarves

Leskas Crinod – Mountain Dwarf City Leskas Rausvin – Hill Dwarf City Dhurandhar – Marine Dwarf City

Average Lifespan (as in they don’t get much older than this): 800 years Childhood: 0-50 Adolescence: 50-150 Young Adults: 150-300 Adult: 300-600 Elder: 600-800

There are 6 full councils that oversee the daily activities of the mountain dwarves. They are the Mining and Forging Council, the War Council, the Building and Engineering Council, the Artisan and Merchant Council, and the Foreign Council. The head of each of those sub-councils also sits on the Ruling Council. The War Council head is afforded two votes on the Ruling Council in all matters except for challenges to the Gormear. All other council heads are afforded one vote on the Ruling Council and the Gormear votes only if a tiebreaker is needed. The sub-councils meet weekly and the Ruling Council meets monthly.

Heartwood Paradise Shard Dwarf History

This story is told to you as it might also be told to an eager group at a family gathering or holiday celebration. As with all stories, the details can vary with the teller’s style (or level of sobriety), but the tale is a true one and a favorite among Dwarves.

A time existed, not so very long ago, when all the Dwarves lived as one nation, underground, all but forgotten by the other races of the land. There were stories of them, sure, and the rare claim of a dwarf sighting, but those were widely regarded as legends and kid’s tales. Now the world knows differently.

The Calling Begins:

Falo Deathvein wasn’t with his usual mining assemblage. His team was well ahead of schedule, as usual, due in large part to Falo’s sensitivity to the mountain and the ores. After living so long underground all Dwarves were attuned to the rock, but it happened on the rarest of occasions that one was born who seemed to be able to see through the rock face itself - so great was their connection to the mountain. It was thus with Falo. He knew where the richest deposits of ore were, and he knew just how to strike with his pickaxe to free them. It was for this reason that the Mining and Forging Council temporarily reassigned him to help an assemblage that was in danger of not meeting its quarterly quota, and Falo found himself amongst different companions the day he first felt The Calling.

The group had set out early for their appointed section of tunnels and caverns. They were after onyx and all knew they had a lot of good, hard work ahead of them to get back on schedule. Although none were overtly friendly, as was the way of the Dwarves, it didn’t take long for the group to settle into a comfortable camaraderie with their temporary member. In truth, most were anxious to see the young Seeker in action, since his talent was such a rare one. Falo, however, was uncharacteristically distracted. He could point out the locations of the thickest onyx veins well enough, but the strokes of his pickaxe were off rhythm and hit with only a fraction of his usual force, leaving the rest of the group wondering if the hearty young lad was ill.

No matter how hard Falo tried to concentrate on the onyx and how it lay within the mountain rock, he couldn’t block out a sensation that the mountain was trying to pull him in the other direction. Not only was his inability to focus unusual, but so was the intensity of this unusual pull. It was almost a whisper in his mind whereas knowing where to find the ores and how to strike them free of the rock had always been more of a feeling. He spent the morning doing his best to ignore it, but this was impossible for one who had grown up learning to trust in his bond with the mountain. Falo was finally unwilling to disregard the strange calling any longer, no matter how far behind this assemblage was. Without a word he dropped his pickaxe to the ground, turned to stare down the tunnel that had brought the group to this cavern, and concentrated on the pull from the mountain instead of on the onyx. A mere moment later he was jogging through the tunnels in the directions the mountain guided him, having left a completely stunned assemblage staring after him. After all, the only thing less often seen than a dwarf shirking his duty was one running from it!

Falo spent hours weaving his way through the underground network of passages and caverns that made up the kingdom of the Dwarves. At last he came to places unfamiliar to him, but still the mountain seemed to be coaxing him farther. Most would have turned back at this point, unwilling to risk getting lost in the mountain maze, for Falo had no tools to mark his passage. The Seeker, however, needed no such tools. He was confident that his affinity with the rock would lead him home as surely as the calling he followed now led him to places unknown. After only the briefest of pauses to consider his situation, Falo forged ahead. He knew the food he had packed for his day spent in the mines would not last him more than 3 days even if he rationed it carefully, so he wanted to waste no time standing about. He traveled the rest of that day and into part of the next, eating an occasional bite as he jogged and stopping rarely to rest. It was during one of these brief rests that Falo finally noticed the path marker.

The Dwarves used subtle cuts in rock to communicate paths to their kin. What would look like nothing more than the natural formations of the mountain were a detailed map to the Dwarves who dwelt within. Falo moved closer to examine the tunnel wall, for the markings here were ones he had not often seen. They indicated the he was on a path to the surface. Falo had never been outside of the mountain before. Doing so was forbidden to all but a few select Dwarves who were trained in remaining unseen by the surface dwellers. Even for those with the training, surface visits were as rare as possible, with sometimes a lifetime or more passing before one would make that journey. All understood that this rule was in place for their safety and it was not questioned or broken by even the most rebellious of Dwarves. He had no choice now but to return home. His food supply was running thin, and he would not risk exposure to the surface.

Falo’s return home took a bit longer than his journey out. His pace was less rushed as he considered both the mountain’s call and the questions he would need to answer when he got back. The Council would no doubt be angry with him, but he was sure this calling still needed to be investigated. Why would a mountain that had remained quiet for as far back as their history recorded choose to speak now? Falo believed there must be a good reason.

The following week Falo had still made little headway in convincing the members of the Ruling Council to heed his advice and let him make an expedition to the surface. During this time The Calling had grown in his mind so much that he could barely find the ore veins and was too distracted to be of use to any of the mining assemblages. Instead, he began trying to find other dwarves who might share The Calling, describing it to anyone who would listen and hoping that some other would feel it too. While his kinsmen proved to be an interested audience for his tale, no others seemed to hear The Calling and none would dare go against the laws forbidding travel to the surface. Falo, disappointed but still determined that this needed to be addressed, petitioned for an audience at the upcoming monthly Ruling Council Summit. Since such requests were only made for issues of great importance, and it was the way of the Council to turn none down, Falo’s petition was granted.

The Ruling Council Convenes:

Another week had passed and the Ruling Council met. Falo presented his story to the huge gathering that comprised the bulk of the Dwarves population. These meetings were open to all who wanted to attend, and by this time everyone had heard about Falo’s petition. When Falo was recognized and allowed to speak, he described The Calling, his journey two weeks prior, and asked that he be allowed to accompany a small expedition to the surface or that he be allowed to go himself. Not only was a request this outrageous denied, the aged Gormear (the speaker of the Ruling Council) demanded of Falo that he stop spreading his tales among the rest of the population and stop speaking all together of journeying to the surface. It was forbidden because it was too dangerous and Falo’s stirring up desires to go would not be tolerated. Falo, uncharacteristically for one usually quiet and respectful, openly refused to obey that order. By now The Calling was so strong in his mind that he could think of little else. He had no doubt that ignoring it would have grim consequences for both himself and his kinsmen. At hearing this open rebellion, the Gormear had no choice but to order Falo locked in his home and forbade any to visit him there other than his guards.

A few more weeks pasted with little incident. During that time, however, Falo’s obsession with getting to the surface had declined to an unhealthy level of insanity. Rumors of his worsening condition were already spreading when a new rumor began circling about other miners beginning to feel an odd pull, much like The Calling that Falo spoke of. Before long these became the most popular subjects that was talked about in the taverns over a round of the favored ale, Gut Wrencher. Slowly the other council members became aware of this and decided it was not just the passing fancy of one crazed miner. They saw then that it would become a problem, and added it first to the agenda of the next monthly meeting, which would take place within the next week.

The day of the summit arrived with much anticipation. Many dwarves milled about inside and outside the Great Hall wondering what was to be said. The crowd hushed as the Gormear walked into the room, his official robes flowing behind him and a disgruntled look upon his face. Various council members cleared their throats waiting for him to speak. The Gormear raised his hands to quiet the spectators then spoke, his voice booming out with a resonating sound, “People of Leskas Crinod, the monthly summit will now commence. As our first order of business, we have been informed of the rumors that other miners have started to sense the mountains presence, or, as Falo Deathvein spoke of it, The Calling. We will now to put to rest any confusion and dispel any more ideas of going to the surface.” The Gormear had barely finished his statement before the gathered crowd roared to life. Some angry shouts were heard above the din from the balcony circling the Great Hall. A loud thud followed by a curse echoed through out the room. Bystanders watched in mild amusement as the Gormear picked up his mug thinking it was his gavel and slammed it on the table spraying those closest to him in ale. Once composed again the Gormear spoke, “There will be NO expedition to the surface. It is forbidden. All of you know and understand the laws our ancestors have provided us. They did this to keep us safe. For anyone to break this law you endanger our way of life, our safety, and our kinsmen. Understand this, anyone caught breaking this law will be executed. This is non-debatable!” The rest of his words were again drowned out at the furious uproar of the dwarves at the session. A lone voice shouted out, “HOLD!” A stout dwarven male pushed his way through the crowd, stopping at the edge glaring at the members of the council. “Is this law what the people want or only what the Council wants? I ask you this, what are you afraid of? Are these not new times? Should we not heed the call of the mountain who has never failed us before? We are this mountain’s children, and surely it would not lead us astray.” While a couple of the Ruling Council’s members nodded in agreement as the dwarf spoke, the Gormear’s face flushed red in anger. He stuttered a moment before regaining some of his former composure and replying. “You traitorous fool!” The Gormear pointed a gnarled finger towards the man, later noted to be Ovgar Fireforger, in rage. Ovgar retorted quickly. “There is no greater fool in this room then you who would condemn us to the same fate as poor Falo by your cowardice and your ignorance.” Ovgar stalked forward then and leaped onto the table, causing victorious cheers from most of the room and a few angry shouts from others. He stood proudly upon his makeshift stage and called out to his kinsmen in the balcony. “Brothers and Sisters! Will we let this aged group of kin decide our future? Will we allow old laws and ancient traditions to govern our decisions? Let us stand up and fight for what we want!” Cheers in the hall erupted in a roar that shook the ground. “I say damn them! Damn the laws and their outdated restrictions! Will we allow ourselves to be oppressed by men who are too scared to greet a new life of prosperity on the surface? I say NO! I say we show courage and change the laws to what the kinsmen want! Let this be the hour that we rise up above old policies and create new ones to live by. Let us heed The Calling! Let us rise above the tunnels as the mountain wishes us to do!” After Ovgar’s impassioned speech was over, the Great Hall was filled with chaos as the gathered dwarves cheered, shouted, and discussed his fiery words. Ovgar strode back a few paces to face the entire council. After the room had calmed some, his voice boomed once more as he declared, “I hereby ask for the council’s approval of my challenge to this Gormear for his position.” His request was met with gasps and looks of shock, for once a challenge is granted and begun, it can only be decided by the death of one of the two rivals. For this reason, such challenge are rarely made and even less often approved by the Governing Council. The Gormear flushed red with outrage at the proposed challenge, but he could do nothing to stop the events that utterance set into motion. As per tradition he turned to the four other Governing Council members and spoke loudly enough for all present in the Great Hall to hear, “A challenge against me has been requested. The decision to allow it to proceed or not is yours alone. I may not be present while you confer, and I must abide by your choice. Remember that in this matter the War Council gets only one vote, so unless three of you agree the challenge should go forward, the request will be denied. May our ancestors grant you wisdom.” With this said, he took his seat, and the four other members filed out of the great hall in order to confer in private as to whether or not to grant Ovgar’s challenge. This time during the deliberation was an uncomfortable one. The gathered crowd knew that approval of the challenge meant the death of either the Gormear or Ovgar, so they remained respectfully quiet. Any speculations or discussions of the meeting that was now taking place behind locked doors were kept to a low murmur. The four who had to make the choice also knew what a difficult time this could be, so they debated and came to an agreement as quickly as they could under such circumstances. It was less than an hour later when they returned to the Great Hall, and the head of the War Council made their decision known to all, “The challenge will go forward! It was with great difficulty and careful evaluation that we made this judgment. Difficult times are upon us, and forces we do not understand may be at work here. It was our determination that it is the will of the people to let this battle of wits and strength determine who shall be the Gormear to stand before us as our representative while we face the trials ahead. Ovgar, as tradition dictates the challenge will begin with a test of wits, and you must first survive it before the Gormear undertakes it. One week from this day you will be here at the noon hour with no possessions other than the clothing you wear. At that time you will be led to the challenge site where your task will be revealed. Should both rivals pass the test of wits, a battle to the death will be held the following day. In light of the approved challenge, this Council Summit is ended!”

The Challenge:

A stunned silence permeated the Great Hall as the Ruling Council and Ovgar Fireforger left. Soon after, excited whispers began, and there was little talk of anything else in the taverns right up until the day of the contest. Most of the wagers placed were in favor of Ovgar, due in part to wishful thinking by his many supporters, but also because they knew him to be an intelligent dwarf and an accomplished fighter. The Gormear, however, was not without his supporters of his own. Some of the older generation especially did not care for the notion of leaving the tunnels. Dwarven elders were highly respected by their kinsmen, but on this issue they were divided.

The week following the conclusion of the Ruling Council Summit passed quickly for most. The task of finding a location for the contest of wits and preparing it fell upon the four men and women that comprised the Building and Engineering Council. That council’s head, Delthen Fatecarver, was excluded from the preparations due to his also serving on the Ruling Council with the Gormear. To prevent any possibility of wrong doing they were secluded from the rest of the population immediately following the Ruling Council Summit and would remain so until the challenge of wits was ended. The four dwarves worked quickly, for they were the best in their trade, and had the site ready and tested a full two days in advance of the challenge date. It was one that required both forethought and vision, and failure to complete it properly would result in the death. Thus it met all the requirements of a challenge of wits.

Ovgar had followed the instructions of the Council exactly. One week later, just as the noon hour arrived, he strode into the Great Hall where it was Delthen Fatecarver who met him. The two exchanged a warm greeting. They were well known to be friends, and Delthen had requested he be the one to escort Ovgar to the appointed site. His request was granted with the condition that he himself not be told the way until just before he would meet Ovgar. Since he was not allowed to take part in the construction of the test he could easily comply. It took them almost 2 hours of walking to reach the site.

Two other members of the Ruling Council were already present. The Gormear of course was absent as was the head of the War Council. He had volunteered to be the Gormear’s guide to the site should Ovgar succeed, so he, like Delthen, could not witness the test or know the way until just prior to the time when she would show the Gormear the way.

As soon as he and Ovgar entered the cavern, Delthen rejoined the rest of the council members who were to bear witness. Ovgar was given time to survey the area. He was standing approximately 40 paces back from the edge of a wide chasm. High above his head a ledge jutted out from the wall, ending in a point about 35 paces ahead of him. A rope was suspended from the point of the ledge and hung down so that its end coiled onto the rock floor upon which Ovgar stood. About half of the way across the chasm and a bit to his left, Ovgar saw a freestanding platform of rock that would have been large enough for himself and two others his size to sand on comfortably. He could not see well to the other side of the chasm from where he stood, but there did appear to be a bridge propped up against the wall. As he drew nearer to the edge, he saw another coil of rope, a knife, and a large bucket set out for his use. A member of the Building and Engineering Council stepped forward and said, “Your goal is a simple one. Reach the other side with the help of only those items that you see before you. You have all the time you want to complete this task.”

The engineer stepped back and Ovgar understood that he would get no further guidance or instructions. He started by carefully looking over each of the items set out for him. The knife was clearly very sharp. The rope, when extended, appeared to him to stretch almost half of the distance of the chasm or just a few hand lengths short of it. The bucket was large enough for him to stand in and of sturdy construction. The spaces between the wood panels that made up its sides would prevent it from being used for carrying anything small, but the tall sides reached almost past his knees. It was a familiar design to him, as buckets like this were often used as temporary lifts, especially by the miners and the builders.

He studied the layout once more considering both it and the items before him. The first step was clear. He must swing out to the platform in the middle of the chasm. The suspended rope was not long enough to reach the other side, nor would that be much of a test of wits. He also needed to reach that platform with the knife, bucket, and rope he had been supplied. He wasn’t sure yet that he would need them all, but he saw no reason to pass up tools that may be of use later.

Ovgar began by making a knot near the top of the rope he had found on the rock floor and then tying it securely to the rope suspended from the ledge. This would help him in a few ways. It would ensure he had enough rope to reach the platform, the knot would help stop his hands from sliding too far down the rope as he was swinging, and it would be one less thing he would have to figure out a way to carry. He tested his knots then walked to the edge of the chasm and kicked the end of the joined ropes in. He left them to dangle over the edge and turned to consider the two remaining tools. He could carry the knife in his mouth well enough but the bucket would pose more of a problem. The only place for it that would allow his hands the freedom they would need to navigate the rope was atop his head. Resigned to what he must do, Ovgar picked up the bucket and placed it upside-down upon his head as though it were a helmet. The spaces in the side of it offered him fair visibility even though it was somewhat obstructed. Knowing he had little choice, Ovgar bit down on the knife and backed up to get a running start for the suspended ropes. He was ready to begin.

Confidently, Ovgar set out towards the ropes that were suspended from the ledge and were now hanging in to the chasm. He reached the rope running and got a good push-off from the edge of the chasm with his powerful legs. He had been careful to angle his run so that he would swing straight for the platform, and he made it there as gracefully as a dwarf with a bucket draped about his head and a knife clenched between his teeth could manage. He landed standing up and continued holding his rope with one hand while removing the bucket from his head with the other. This would be the first good look he would get at the far side of the chasm, and now he could clearly see what he needed to do. There was a lever that could be pulled towards him to release the bridge that was currently propped up against the cavern wall. Neither section of rope by itself would be long enough to loop and throw to the lever, but if he could cut the suspended rope high enough he should be able to do it. Now he understood why he needed the bucket. The only chance he had of getting enough length was to stand on it and cut the rope as high as he could. Ovgar moved to the edge of the platform closest to where the rope was suspended, carefully stood on the bucket, and stretched up as far as he could. The sharp knife made a clean cut, and he was left holding a good length of rope while the rest swung freely back towards the ledge from which it was suspended. Ovgar eyed the lever again and made a loop that was large enough to fit over it but didn’t give him much room for error in his toss. He also made a loop on the other end to fit snugly around his hand. He was confident in his ability to aim and was not willing to risk losing his rope into the chasm or coming up short. Ovgar had been right to feel sure of himself for it took him only two tosses of his rope to hit his mark. As the loop slid over the lever, Ovgar gave a mighty pull. The lever responded by moving towards him and releasing the four catches that held the wooden bridge against the rock wall. The end of the bridge landed loudly on the platform in front of where Ovgar stood and he strode across it with a victorious shout at having completed this portion of the challenge successfully.

Since Ovgar had passed the test of wits, the current Gormear also must undergo the challenge. If he was successful then he and Ovgar would battle until one was slain, however, that was not to happen. The Gormear had also correctly identified the solution to the test except for one critical mistake. He stood at the very edge of the platform in the center of the chasm to rope and pull the lever towards him, but he failed to move out of the way quickly enough as the wooden bridge fell into place. He was crushed underneath it and Ovgar was now the Gormear.

The Assassination:

The challenge was over and the winner would be revealed to the general population during the Assembly the next day. Taverns were filled to capacity and then some with dwarves drinking and speculating as to who had won. Only the members of the Building and Engineering Council, the Ruling Council and the current Gormear already knew the results, and they were secluded within the living quarters of the Great Hall. Each one had their own chamber with a guard posted outside to make sure no gossip seekers could enter.

The various council members had all fallen asleep hours ago, tired from the day of challenges, and the building was still save for one figure who was moving unseen through the shadows of the hallway that led to the War Council head’s room. She approached the guard outside the door silently until she was sure the Lafen Root extract that she had slipped into his drink at dinner had taken effect. His rumbling snore assured her that she had been successful, and he would pose no threat. The lock on the door was not an uncommon one, and she was inside the room within seconds.

She closed the door behind her and silently approached the old, slumbering dwarf. She regarded him for a moment, considering all the things he had taught her as well as what she was about to. She held no malice for the man sleeping before her, but she was also unwilling to let one dwarf stand in way of what she was certain her people needed to do. Determination replaced reflection upon her features as she gently lifted his long grey beard in her left hand and deftly thrust her poisoned raubb into his neck with her right. Confident in the potent poison, she had pricked him and left the room so quickly that she never even knew if he stirred.

She was back home and sleeping soundly when the messenger came to summon her to the Great Hall. She placed a look of mild curiosity upon her face even though she already knew what the messenger did not. She, Thealla HammerFist, was now the head of the War Council because her predecessor had sadly died in his sleep.

The Ruling Council Reconvenes:

Never before and possibly never again would the great hall be so full. All work had stopped for the day in anticipation of the upcoming Ruling Council assembly. It was then that the population would find out if Ovgar had beaten the current Gormear. The Great Hall was full of whispers and bets about who had actually won the challenge. One by one the Ruling Council members stepped into the room followed by the Gormear. A respectful silence was all that was heard when Ovgar Fireforger proudly entered the room, the official robes of the Gormear swirling around him. He raised his hands in victory, and the great room erupted in wild cheers of excitement. The Ruling Council members took their seats, some looking more somber then others. As he Stepped up to the stone podium, a curvy barmaid rushed up to the Gormear and handed him a mug of frothing ale that he quaffed quickly. In those few moments the gathered dwarves had quieted, waiting to hear what would happen next. Ovgar wiped his mouth, and the look on his face turned serious. His voice boomed out startling a few of the patrons. “The Ruling Council meeting shall begin! As the first order of business I am calling for a vote from this Ruling Council to see whether or not we should heed The Calling and send an expedition to the surface. Those in favor state Aye and those opposed state Nay!” Ovgar fell silent waiting for the various council members to speak their peace. A lean dwarf in spectacles, holding a parchment, stood up and called the members one at a time for the vote. “Mining and Forging Council!” the criers voice piped up as a well-defined male dwarf stood up and shook his head. “Nay!” The crowd erupted in boo’s and taunts as the Council member sat. “War Council!” “Me two votes go for Aye!” Stomps and cheerful semi-drunken shouts filled the air. “Building and Engineering!” Delthen threw back his chair in his eagerness yelling, “Aye”, and smiled confidently at the Gormear. “Artisan and Merchant!” A flamboyantly gay dwarf who happened to be that council’s head stood up and spoke, “Nay.” The crier turned to the Gormear and gazed upon him questioningly. Ovgar paused for a moment and gazed around the room. “Before I make my decision I ask the people: What do you wish me to vote? All those in favor yell out Aye!” Again the crowd was stunned into a brief silence, and a few elder members of the council looked at Ovgar in surprise at this unusual request. Only moments passed, though, before a few “Aye’s” were heard from the gathered crowd. Then little by little the yells rose to a deafening roar. Ovgar and Delthen smiled as the hall quieted. Ovgar spoke again then a bit more quietly. “All those against…speak Nay,” A dull roar echoed through the hall, but it was clear to everyone present that it lacked both the volume and the power of the one before. “Our people have spoken. I shall vote Aye! Let us venture to the surface!”

To the Surface:

Ovgar wasted no time in selecting and preparing the first group for its journey to the surface. He had many more volunteers willing to be a part of this unique expedition than he thought it wise to send. The Ruling Council settled on a group of 50 dwarves to make the trip, including Ovgar Fireforger, Delthen Fatecarver, Thealla HammerFist, and representatives from the remaining two councils.

They set out from Leskas Crinod two weeks following the assembly. Progress was slow for a group so large, but with The Calling to guide them they were able to reach the surface in just thirty-seven days. They waited within the tunnels until night fell and a group of eight, led by Delthen Fatecarver, went out first to scout around. After just two hours they gave the signal that the area was clear, and a group of dwarves larger than any to have stepped foot on the surface in longer than most of the world’s races remembered stepped out of the tunnels and gaped in awe and fear at the open night sky.

The next morning, as the nighttime watch was just beginning to fall asleep and the next watch shift was just beginning to rise, a deep noise woke some of the dwarves who had been sleeping near the edge of the circular encampment. It was not quite a groan, nor was it a yell, but some strange cross of the two. A few of the closest dwarves, still in their undergarments, jumped from their bedrolls and quickly armed themselves with their swords and mauls as they peered at the bleary eyed at the creature. It just stood there, though, looking quite confused. A dwarven male known as Pinky, for he was frequently drunk so his face more often then not had a pinkish glow to it, held his mace in a defensive way and advanced on the creature, thinking to be the first dwarf in ages to meet a surface dweller. “Speak yer name!” Pinky called out. The creature tilted its large head and continued to stand there eyeing the dwarf. “Alright fine! If ye wont speak yer name, Oi’ll make ye!” Pinky advanced, his mace held high. The large creature shifted on its massive hooves, leaned its head down, and took a large, slow bite out of the grass in front of the dwarf. Then it lifted its head and stared at the dwarf with a bored look in its large brown eyes. A fellow dwarf walked up to the animal they would later learn had been a cow and scratched its side as he grinned at Pinky. “Oi dinnae think eet will be hurtin us this day, lad.” He snickered then and walked off to his own bedroll leaving Pinky standing there with a redder face than usual.

Once the group was a bit more comfortable in their new surroundings they began setting up a campsite near the mountain entrance. They spent their time familiarizing themselves with the land, plants, animals, and on scouting expeditions that would sometimes last for a few days at a time. After about a month on the surface, Ovgar announced that it was time for part of the group to report back to their kinsmen on what they had found and to let everyone know that The Calling had quieted once they reached the surface. Much to Thealla’s irritation, it was decided that Delthen would stay to oversee things at the camp while she, Ovgar, and the remaining council members would accompany a group of ten back into the mountain.

While Ovgar was back in the underground city preparing another larger group of dwarves and supplies for departure, Delthen was skillfully overseeing the erection of more permanent buildings in the surface camp. The second group arrived on the surface five months after the original expedition did, but now they had stone and ores from the stores within Leskas Crinod, which could be used in the construction of more tools and buildings. Over a period spanning twenty years the dwarves were able to move nearly all of their supplies and what personal items they were unwilling to leave behind to the surface. Other than those few who simply refused to leave their underground homes, the dwarves were once again together with the rest of their kinsmen and the new surface city of Leskas Crinod was well underway.

As the building was completed, the other councils were not idle. They each had their own ideas for how they could best benefit from being on the surface and making contact with the other races that dwelled there. The Artisan and Merchant Council was especially eager about the possibilities of opening trade routes. They directed their own assemblies to start working on crafts that might interest the races of the surface, and they asked that the Mining and Forging Council do the same. This put them at odds with the War Council, though, who saw the surface races as likely threats rather than possible allies, for they wanted more armor and weapons from the Mining and Forging assemblies. Both combat equipment and trade items were created, but still remaining close to the mountain that they had emerged from, the dwarves had no good plan far meeting the other races.

Expansion:

The issue of how to make contact with the surface dwellers was discussed during the next Ruling Council assembly, and it was decided that Delthen Fatecarver, along with a team of builders and a few guards, would set out through the forest to find a location for another, smaller dwarven settlement. This served a few purposes. The dwarves still did not know the reason they were called to the surface, and they were coming to realize that they would not discover it by staying in the Mountain’s shadow. The Ruling Council had also concluded that it would be better to meet the surface dwellers away from their main home and stronghold. If it should prove necessary that they return to their tunnels, either in the near or distant future, then they would rather do so without any surface dweller ever having seen the inside of their mountain. Only Thealla disagreed with the course, arguing that it should be she, as the War Council head, who lead the establishment of the new settlement, but even her two votes were overruled by unanimous agreement of the others that Delthen, along with a few guards, was better suited to the task.

Preparations were made quickly and Delthen set out south and east around the tip of the mountain and into the forest. They had thought it would be many days of traveling before they encountered any of the surface races, if they did at all. It was a surprising sight, then, when the dwarves saw, right there in the forest, a town reaching up into the trees themselves. Their surprise was even more complete when the inhabitants of the unusual city peered at them with faces that resembled those of cats. A few of the dwarves remembered Pinky’s meeting with the cow and gazed upon these creatures with suspicion, not a bit eager make fools of themselves as Pinky had. The Katian’s, however, were no less startled when they realized they were looking upon a full group of fabled Dwarves, and suspicion clouded their features as well. This first meeting between the two peoples was a cautious one, but it stayed friendly and left open the possibility of future relations. The Katians even provided the dwarves with directions through the unfamiliar forest to a place bordering the ocean where the group might begin work on their new settlement.

The directions from the cat-people took the dwarves far to the southeast where an inlet had already cleared some of the forest trees for them. It looked to the dwarves like they had been guided well, and they set to work right away clearing enough more of the trees to start putting up small buildings. A messenger was sent back to Leskas Crinod to report on the party’s progress, location, and to secure a few more supplies. Over the next few years more dwarves would make the trip to help out with the building of the coastal settlement, which they now called Leskas Rausvin, or just to see it for themselves. Some even decided to stay and make their homes there, and the city grew. It would never match the size of Leskas Crinod, but Leskas Rausvin was fast becoming an accomplishment to be proud of. The Council Grows:

As seasons came and passed, it was time yet again for the monthly Ruling Council assembly at Leskas Crinod. Since travel from Leskas Rausvin took 3 weeks of steady traveling on foot for a medium sized party, they had long since made use of a couple of the few dwarven magic wielders to create gates between the two cities. Underground magery was a dangerous practice and severely frowned upon by all but the handful who practiced it. On the surface, however, it had proven itself useful. While many were still distrustful of the magical arts, others had come to grudgingly accept at least gate travel as a necessary part of their lives. A few even admitted that they had always had an interest in learning magic and took it up without fear of causing a cave-in that could be so deadly underground. Those who wanted to regularly attend the monthly meetings were among the group who had at least accepted travel by magic gates, so they sought out their mage and arrived in Leskas Crinod only moments later.

They were greeted with the eager faces of dwarves who were excited to hear news of Leskas Rausvin. Deep within the city a lone female paced in her home. Thealla Hammerfist went over in her head the speech she was going to propose to the Ruling Council. A loud rapping at her door startled her out of her thoughts. It was time. She strapped her dagger to her hip and stalked out the door with purpose. Hurrying through the maze of the city she came upon the Great Hall, now surrounded with the loud buzz of many voices to be heard from the hundreds of dwarves milling about outside. The crowd parted to allow her entry. She flashed a charming smile to those about her once she had taken her seat at the head table. Ovgar Fireforger swept in flanked by his guards and moved to sit in the Gormear’s Throne. Thealla tapped her stubby fingernails on the stone table waiting for the formalities to be over. Once the Gormear sat, Thealla quickly thumped her ale tankard on the table drawing hundreds of pairs of questioning eyes to her. She looked to Ovgar and stood when he motioned for her to speak. She quickly moved around the table to face the council with her back to the crowd. With a quick motion, she flipped her long braid over her shoulder and spoke.

“After much thought and consideration I am proposing to rally a small contingent of my army then head off on an expedition to explore these new lands. So far we have not met anything or anyone that causes us great concern, however, do we know if other races are at war? Wars do not stay in the backyards of the angry. The destroy all around them.” She pauses for effect as the gathered spectators broke out into hushed whispers, “I am looking out for my people as we all should. Even though we are an old and wise race, we are new to these lands. We should not underestimate our neighbors. With your permission we will leave within a month to head south of Leskas Rausvin.” Thealla nodded to herself and sat back down, well aware of the incredulous stares she was receiving and not liking them at all.

Ovgar nodded and requested she wait in the main room while the rest of the council filed out to discuss the matter privately. She was not surprised that they took this matter behind closed doors since it involved her directly, but she could not help feeling impatience as she waited for the results. A full three hours later a guard finally announced the council returning, and she was bid to stand in front of the head table again to hear their decision. The Gormear stood, addressing Thealla and the crowd. “We have taken this suggestion under great consideration, but after much debate we have decided that rather then sending a division of the army out, we will be creating a new council. The Foreign Council will be based in Leskas Rausvin under the supervision of Grommer Longbeard.” Thealla’s face paled quickly then color rushed to her ashen cheeks in fury as the Gormear continued, “The reason we decided on this course is because we do not want the surface dweller’s first view of us to be as hostile people. Granted, if there are wars going on, we will protect what is ours, but we will not go out looking for trouble in these lands. The council has spoken!” With those last words Thealla felt frustrated and betrayed. For the third time now she had been let down by her council, for the third time she was cast aside like a child, and for the third time her opinion did not matter. Anger coursed through her as she stalked from the great hall.

The Divide:

Weeks passed and her rage only built. She knew what she must do. She had not hesitated the last time drastic action needed to be taken, and she would not hesitate now. Over the next few weeks she discreetly informed her most trusted commanders of her plan. Each of them was eager to agree, for she had chosen her confidants carefully. By this time the dwarves had constructed a small fleet of ships that were anchored in the harbor next to Leskas Rausvin. Thealla’s plan involved those.

Under the cover of night 50 of her best men and women set off and hijacked 6 ships of different sizes and speeds. Any crew on these ships who wanted to come along were welcomed to do so. Any that did not were gagged so they could not raise an alarm. They were then carried ashore and placed where they would be found in the morning. After an hour of sailing they reached an encampment where hundreds of fires glowed softly. The larger of the ships anchored near the shore and the smaller ones ferried the families to the larger ships. It took 5 days to load all the people and animals. Once everyone was aboard, Thealla stood at the prow of the largest boat beaming with pride and ordered the first mate to set a new course for the south. As the waves crashed against the stern and the wind filled the sails Thealla lead her followers off into the ocean to find new lands and new adventures. They would not be oppressed by their kinsmen any longer!

For those too lazy to read the story (shame on you btw):

And so it came to be that to this day that the mountain dwarves dwell at the base of what is now known to most as Dwarf Mountain in a city called Leskas Crinod. It is a place some say the tortured moans and screams of poor Falo can still be heard echoing through the deeper mines. The hill dwarves call their home Leskas Rausvin, located south east of the Katian settlement. And, finally, after years of plundering and searching, Thealla’s band of dwarves became known as the marine dwarves. Far from their kin, they built a trade city called Dhurandhar, where they still have ready access to the sea and where only the stout of heart come to do business. While some of the marine dwarves have forgotten why they harbor ill feelings towards their brethren, there has still been no contact since The Divide. Perhaps one day…one day this just might change…