[Lore][Race] Dwarves

Started by RanmaChan, 20-12-2020

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RanmaChan

Journal of Phar Alkadizar,
Nomas Explorator and Merchantman

Dwarves are believed to be one of the oldest, if not the oldest race in all of Aceon. Records of their existence reach back all the way into the first age, where it is believed that they came into being even before any of the elves. I have been to a Dwarven stronghold once during my travels. My caravan and I were making our yearly trade route, when we were suddenly hit by an extremely late, out of season snow storm. It must have rolled off and down the nearest mountain. A fellow merchantman told us that our only hope was to head into the storm, towards the mountain.

We listened to him, we had no other plans or ideas and our caravan was not equipped to deal with this sort of weather, we believed we had left at a time when we would not have to worry about snow and ice and the like. We made haste, walking and freezing for nearly two hours. We thought we would not make it, but somehow we did. Warm fires greeted us out of the white wall of snow, and we nearly collapsed.

Our hosts, the Dwarves of clan Zultbweer, were extremely gracious and upon seeing no Orcs or Goblins in our party, quickly led us inside. The gates were small and heavily defended. I believed the whole place would be small, fitting for the short stature of our guests, but I was wrong. Large caverns greeted us, all cut and chiselled to perfection. Grand homes passed us by as we walked, with shops selling beautiful goods occasionally added into the mix. We entered a smaller cavern, and passed by what seemed to be a whole blacksmiths quarter, the ringing of the anvils and the roaring of the forges so loud that they drowned out even my thoughts.

The Dwarves escorting us spoke along the way, telling us of the achievements of their people, the skill of their craftsmanship, the glory of their hold. They had us enraptured, all the way to the immense inn, built into the wall of another grand cavern. I didn't know why the inn was so large, it didn't seem like they had many guests, and so I asked. A dark look came over their faces.

Dwarven holds had been some of the greatest works of civilization on all of Aceon, their empires reaching far underground and into massive caverns where the ceiling couldn't be seen, rushing underground rivers, and lakes so deep and black they seemed like portals to the void. They had great underground highways which reached each other, and delegations were extremely large, hence the size of the inn. However, as each Aceonic age ended, there were always cataclysms. Volcanic eruptions, earthquakes, and more. These, and the appearance of swarms of Orcs and Goblins infesting their caverns and roads, led the the destruction and downfall of many, many clans.

It is now unknown just how many Dwarven holds survive today, and our hosts were divided on the topic. Some believed very few remained, and that one day they would make contact and regain their lost glory. Others believed that they were the last great hold, and that while there may be small Dwarven communities above ground, and groups living in the settlements of Humans and other races, that they were the last great hold.

I couldn't help but feel sorrow for everything our generous hosts had lost. They gave us food, drink, and lodging until the storms had stopped, and the snows had melted. They provided us with all kinds of gifts and trinkets, and bid us goodbye, telling us that we were always welcome back, but that we had better bring some beer next time. We laughed and waved until those gates, the fires, and the people who saved us could no longer be seen. I hope they are doing well.
"If you don't expect gratitude, you'll seldom be dissapointed."