The Story of the Dwarves

I am troubled by all that I do not know about our past. Clan Warbeard are lore masters. We carry the histories of our people scribed upon our armor, hammered into our weapons, and bound into the braids of our beards. Not of one history, but many. And all end in doom.

Many times before my people have risen only to fall suddenly, felled by an unseen hand. Something within? I am afforded the barest understanding of it, but it is enough.

The history shards are rune-writ; each is a key to another age, to the stories written upon its walls, its monuments, and in the tombs of its makers.

I delve for the tales of my ancestors. For our lost glories and dead heroes. I delve for the hope that next time we will remember.

 

 

The Doom That Follows

Many kingdoms of the dwarven people have come and gone, long lost to history, their great works now rubble, their ballads have become dirges.