AN EXCERPT ; SUBJECT TO CHANGE
The Fourth Kingdom Of Yore; The Lost King Of The Forgotten Dwarves.
In the depths of the mountains over plains and hills, resided a mine worthy of history. Full of riches and ores, and a hearty race known as the dwarves. No man or elf for that matter, was as heartfelt for their kin as the dwarves.
They would fight to the death in the name of honor, and through their stone-like stubbornness a dwarf was never afraid to die for his brothers, and you could never convince them that it was anything other than honorable. Deep within this mountain's caves, past all the muddy mazes of dark and wet tunnels. was the mine's grandiose entrance that stood stories high fashioned in an impeccable pristine obsidian marble seemingly Crafted with the love of the mountain.
From it's grand archway that stood at the entrance to the ancient mines.
Stood two statues of the Garnetcrusher brother's. Myrddin has bright blue eyes, a bulbous prominent nose with clean, and healthy gray skin. Dark brown hair, dirty, mangled and greasy. His beard is kempt and it's as black as coals, it ties into a single braid that his wife often tied for him every morning. it rests just on his rough protruding stone stomach. Myrdinn's statue dawns his memorable cuirass, with boulder-like pauldrons as if his armor was crafted from the mountain itself.
Gavynn stood leaning against his brother with an intoxicated grin, and blushed cheeks. He has dark brown eyes, his nose is small but wide and round. Gavynn's skin is old, saggy, and wrinkled only complimenting his experienced age. he was a revered dwarf with the jowl to prove it. he's pudgy and round like an orb and his gut hangs at an angle as it always inevitably peaks from under his leather shirt but just like any dwarf. he could care less, Gavynn's statue is Dawning a beard that's unkempt with bits and pieces of food hidden in between the hairs of his fully gray beard. Gavynn's wife just as pudgy as he and just as pig-like. when it came down to it many of the mountain-folk mistook them for one another but that was a common problem among the dwarves, the only thing that really set males and females apart was the body odor, and neither carried a pleasant aroma, but who cares about lingering smells when just existing is filled with such a grandiose pride. Just beyond those two pristine marble statues, there's a dirt gravel path that descended into the mines. it splits a hard left and a sharp right in a circle around a dark pit in the caves. the caves gallows stretched farther than the eye could see and dreadfully was a sight of a many suicides on silent nights especially after the human rebellion. On each side of the circular town square which stones were rested upon the dirt and gravel. you can find merchants of all kinds, and in the center of all the busy markets of stalls and shops stands an obsidian podium, it's abyssal stones reflected against the light in the dim mountain-town. Surrounded by the few merchants who made enough profit to open their own stores. Bakers, Smiths, Tailors, Jewelers, and anything else a dwarf might need for his recreation or more importantly their day-to-day professions. The stores and homes were little hovels made of stone, and wooden doors. Though they looked weak you would fine no finer architecture built from the earthly stones the mountain gave the dwarves. The hovels of homes, creaked anytime a shopper entered and many of the dwarves ran shop from their very own hovel of a home. Business was always thriving in the markets. Merrier than any human market you might find and if anything a ploughing lot less of thieves mucked about. To the right of the marble podium was a winding path that went further into the mountain's caves and tunnels. That only shined from the splendorous ores the lined the depths of the mountain's rich grotto. It was the dwarves glorious mines where they slammed their pick-axes into metal and iron ores for hours on end. Beautiful gleaming ores that were responsible for the finest jewels, weapons, and armours. Dwarves brought melted ores and jewels to the market to do trade with the smiths, jewelers and other fine craftsman many of which were there neighbors and friends and spent nights in the taverns having a merry gathering a night of song and dance forgetting what happened that day, and also making ploughing sure they could strike a deal when their bellies were swaying full of ale. For what else does a dwarf need but his pride, his home, his profession, his community, and his kin. The only light came from within the walls of the shops, lit only by torches on their interiors. Only to signify that they were open. Because dwarves hated nothing more than answering the door, they're neighborly folk but stubborn as all the seven hells combined when it comes down to an individual outside of their social castes. Two brother's lead this underground village of dwarves. The same brother's who resembled those pristine marble statues. These well-heeled mines helped the dwarves prosper, and these two brother's lead the community to do moderately well, like any dwarven village should, or at least aspire to do but when the cold nights come to an end, and a cold gust of wind brushes through. Times are dark. Times are jagged. Winters are long and dawns never come. These are the dark ages, but as long as these dwarves have the stone. Their hearts will flush just as the affluent gold veins that line the mountain's caverns and dark halls resonate the very warmth and magnificent sincerity of the earth. Days came and nights went. Business was thriving as usual in the mines, until a cold wind swept through the wet muddy caverns of the cold mountain. Howling and blowing over lanterns, rattling shop signs, quenching fires in an instant. Even with the sudden winds ferocity not a single dwarfs slumber was interrupted. only the change in Pace of their heavy obnoxious snores. Almost, but not quite as obnoxious as a dwarfs ability to inhale a tankard of ale. Or burst out in song like a legion of out-out-tune muses. Almost, but not quite. Like a sudden flash of overwhelming heat. An infecting, malicious and terrible dream crept into both of their beds. Silently. Calmly. Noiselessly A dark wind of onyx-flame complimented with seething black tendrils. prowled and crept into the brother's beds and encased their meaty, sweaty, snoring bodies. The soon to be poor vessels. There wives didn't flinch, they didn't even slightly move. The darkness began to slowly cover the brother's in there separate homes as it's black tendrils lulled their wives into a paralytic sleep. An evil darker than the deepest leagues of the sea Or even the depths of the vast galaxy. An evil so dark, that it couldn't be noticed and it couldn't have been prepared for. Once she sunk her hungry claws into this world it was far too late. An evil so dark, it would rot even the stone-hearted. ever since vaea was an orb of light and betrayed her only purpose in that instance. It was too late and not a soul knew. Not even the monumental god of death himself, Vorago. Not a single dwarf was safe in their lonely isolated mountain in the far, far west. Not a single one and it was far too late with the first gust of an eerie dark wind of possessive, tempting flame. The stones of fate had already been shifted themselves. Twisting their original intentions by the deceitful vaea. No horror in all of the seven hells could have prepared the brothers for this fate. Or Dome-Wyrds originally beautiful lands for that matter.
Myrddin and Gavynn Garnetcrusher both had nightmares of a beautiful towering figure. She was a blinding vandal light shrouded in whiteness, in the shape of a perfect goddess unknown to these dwarves and the rest of the simple, young, and innocent world. Her voice echoed in brilliance, they were both entranced, enthralled, and enchanted. she possessed an infectious light and as it caressed
their faces. she told them in the most delicate voice, as if her voice was the only sound in the universe. it resonated that of idealistic romance, the perfect display of woman, she saw through their gray stone faces and pleased their greatest desires in the most impeccable voice with such a perfection, you could swear it was light, and beauty itself. Oh and it was, it was light and beauty itself, but little did these poor simple dwarves know that beauty and light are the greatest deception. The brothers were hypnotized, and it was far too late for even in their dreams encroached in a lulling maddening and possessive darkness. It was far too late.
her infectious light seeped a darkness into their gray pores. Too infatuated by the dwarves coming prophecy to even flinch at the madness. this goddess was blighting and entwining their souls with, binding her darkness too their very spirit. "Your father, Your father" she echoes in perfection. "has a lost kingdom and you both must make it your conquest, for it is your birth-right. Now both of you go to the east, out of your darkened muddy caves and to the bright land Of Dome-wyrd, seek it's dormant volcano, and travel to it's very depths. This is your fate, this is your destiny. All of it's jewels, treasures, and mines are yours for the taking. All of it's riches and splendors. You will become the first dwarves of dome wyrd." as her voice trails off so do their minds, it is far too late for the brothers. in the moment her voice began to fade and shortly thereafter so did their euphoric dream. in that moment she gained complete control. Little did the mountain know that the winds marked Vaea's arrival into their innocent stone-hearts. Sharing the same dark dreams, they were both filled with a darkness they did not know. They both woke up in frightened cold sweats, almost half asleep Myrddin and Gavynn dragged their feet almost as if they were being commanded, opening up their Armoires being sure as to not wake their snoring sluggish wives and quickly snatching their cuirasses and thick plated helmets, without a clank or a bash like their entire life had lead up to this moment. On the way out the doors of their homes they grab their respected Axes. Both of them walked side by side, dragging their feet. They both aimlessly walked out of the mines that they always called home, and never has a dwarf even mustered up the thought of leaving. The gray-skins, The coal-Breathed. Hated the mere idea of the sun or the moon against their face, just the thought of it made their skin crawl. Nevertheless, something guided Myrddin and Gavynn They ended up sitting under the moon side by side, on the hilly green plains just outside of the mine and off the dirt path surrounded by thick and tall trees a few miles east. They were absolutely silent. Both comatose with lost dazes, dawning blank expressions scrawled upon their gray faces and seemingly enough more pale than usual. Both of the brothers had the same haunting beautiful voice circling around in their heads. A tempting loud darkness, consistent repeating whispers "Dome Wyrd..Claim your birthright..The GarnetCrushers..The first dwarves of dome wyrd". the sound would trail in a reverberating echo. The voices only grew louder and clearer, they slowly and meticulously sharpened their armor and axes, letting the voice consume them under the pale luminescent rays of the moon. the crawling feeling the dwarves usually felt was nonexistent. They felt lighter than a feather and grandiose, truly like the first and only dwarves. Quickly the only thing they believed anymore was that they were the first dwarves of dome-wyrd. The more time that passed under the moon the louder the voices became, the darker the darkness grew and bellowed in their mind's in her perfect pristine voice. The strangest thing about this was perhaps not the voices, or two hearty and thick dwarves sitting under the moonlight but perhaps that Myrddin And Gavynn never had a father that they knew. They did rule the mines that they so thoughtlessly walked out of like no dwarf EVER, has. They both grew up in the orphanage in the mines. As did a lot of unfortunate dwarven children. The parents did not flee or abandon the children. Or slowly succumb to a sickness from the mines, The Dwarves had an inherent resistance to the dense coal-riddled air of the mines. Breathing all the ores and coals into their lungs, never resulted in dire sickness. The mines were never a problem for the stone-hearted. they took pride in their craft and profession. It was the escalating racism in the lands. The sodding humans. A year prior to the nightmares that crept into the brother's beds.
In their homelands, at the entrance of the mines. A human rebellion swept in, humans dressed in black garments head-to-toe, completely enshrouding their identities. Snatched dwarven father's from their homes. They didn't lay a boney human finger on the dwarven mother's or the children. they merely woke them and bound them to corners of the room as they pulled their hair back and forced them to witness the butchery, and slaughter of their husbands and fathers. Slashing their throats, gutting their stomachs, or just simply hanging them by the ceiling by their beards and disemboweling them, their entrails dangling and swaying. Or merely cutting off their hands and leaving families to the immoral terror of their loved ones beautiful blood loss, accompanied by the severing of their stubby hands. For what good is a dwarf with no hands, and no ability to craft. No profession and no way to work, with no reason to live. It was a fate worse than death itself. The entire mountain shook in the incomprehensible horrific screams, shrieks, and cries. That filled the now wailing caverns. Wailing so loud, the neighboring towns of the mountain couldn't sleep that night even some of the human settlements contorted in their sleep to this echoing, haunting, and traumatizing terror. They sent a terrible message, and succeeded in doing just that. It was a night no one could've forgotten. A night that will always be remembered but never spoken of. The filthy, vengeful, and murderous humans in there now bloody black garments. vanished from the caves shortly after, with the same wind that crept into the brothers beds a year later. Something unknown to these trembling and shocked lands. The night reeked of evil and darkness, a foul unpleasant lingering stench. Dissipating with the light of dawn and the morning fog. It was noticeably thicker that morning. The dwarves; especially Myrddin and Gavynn. were not only fearful of the deceitful humans but reclused, and unadmittedly terrified. Just as every other fatherless dwarf, and widowed wife was that morning and for years to come in the hate-filled ignorance. Not aware to a evil darker than the nights of that regrettable night in the mountain. Only fueling their hate and wallowing in their anger deep within the mines. The brother's announced a new state of security for the mountain town and for it to be illegal and considered high-treason to venture out of these mines without reason and the brothers blessing. The brothers had no recollection of these events that lied within these new foreboding nightmares. They only knew her voice, and the darkness growing within. fogging and hazing their mind. With dawn about to rise the two brothers slowly rose. The sun was beaming over the horizon, the morning dew dampened everything in sight. In perfect synchronization they slid on their thick plated helmets as they leaped out of bed wrought with fatigue and slammed down their rusty metal visors. Fastening on their curaisses. Stomped into their boots with such a fury, planting their heels into the damp and muddy soil. Both with a heave and a grunt slung their heavy daunting axes over their shoulders. their armor and respective weapon's blades, gleamed against the rising sun light. Something in them knew this was both their last dawn on these plains and soon. Their very own mines. The darkness in their infected minds was now swollen. each thoroughly convinced of their now suddenly existent father's legacy. They marched back into the mines, it was now the early morning.
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