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    STARTER EVENT

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    Squeaky
    Empress of DaC
    Empress of DaC

    Gender : Female Posts : 2179
    Join date : 2009-12-29

    STARTER EVENT

    Post  Squeaky on Thu Jul 01, 2010 3:38 pm

    Ah, but the lights glisten in the halls of Ered Luin, a reminder to all of the once-proud history of our Fathers. Alas, our fortunes wane, yet we still harbour the greatest array of Dwarven bloodlines, a shrinking yet powerful progeny of the Seven Fathers. Of the Seven, Ours were greatest, and our ancestors were fell in battle, their dirges sung and sharpened axes cutting, fearful and savage to our foes of old.

    When we were resplendent, when the Ered Luin was at it’s height, Beleriand treated us far above equals - our smiths forged wonders that made the Elven weapons seem tarnished, even amongst those of the brilliant Noldor of Gondolin. Telchar was our greatest Smith, and his creations lay so greatly above all forging that Elves paid fortunes and gave pails of respect as if it were water to them. He it was who made the greatest treasures of Menegroth.

    The old Kingdoms of these mountains were Grand Belegost and Fell Nogrod, yet it was the Dwarves of Nogrod that were cause for the hatred of the Elves – a relationship that was only rekindled at Khazad-Dum, a friendship with the Kingdom of Eregion. The slaying of Elu Thingol was foolish, but necessary, as he deceived us and awoke the lust we have for the bounty of the rock and stone. We have counted amongst us great Lords, such as Thorin Oakenshield, and field the best equipped and remorseless armed host west of the revived Realm of Khazad-dum. Our decline is reversible, as is the resurrection of the might of Belegost and Nogrod. We believe still, and axe and mattock will forge a Kingdom to last an age.

    The fool Elves are leaving shores. This gives us pleasure, and mines to exploit that have not housed a Dwarf of the Ered Luin within for a great length of time. They called us Naugrim, the Stunted, and hunted us like wild animals, yet we forged and delved with adamant will and great precision. For Azaghal’s triumphant death, the Elves still owe a debt we cannot collect, but our weakness is over.

    We have you, Lord, and once more don the Masks of War – whetstones are being driven; the fires belch flame as if we were already ascendant under you, Lord. Smithies provide a war engine like no other. Nothing can withstand Dwarven Foot, and, whilst limited by lesser strength in bow and lacking horse, we cut like scythes and our enemies will fall like grass. They will be in awe of the grim warriors whose spirit is strong, whose arms are great and numbers will ever grow for a war to make even the eldest look tamed. Master forges, great halls all repaired to splendour. With our strength, we will forge the way to a conquest to be sung through the halls of the Dwarves beyond the Misty Mountains, all of whom will wonder at the legends we carve.

    At last we can strike at our foes, orc and goblin-kind, massacre them and drive them back to fall in pathetic weakness to our wrath. To the East lie ancient foes; Carn Dum itself will house many warriors amidst piles of dead and like vengeful ghosts we will fall upon the foulness of the Misty Mountains and build the greatest mines. For our goal and wish is to strike for Mithril, gold and twinkling gems as we purge the worthless spawn that are orc-kind from the world itself!

    Here, deep within the Blue Mountains, have been left only a few of us, never to forget but slowly to be forgotten in these grievous ages of οur decline . Of our waxing and our furious vengeance, much will be told in ages to come. The ancestors of Belegost and Nogrod will not simply die like whispers amongst embers!

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