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-=Da Ord Nar Kadrin=- as Recognized by Da Kirkja Dverga

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~=~ Da Ord Nar Kadrin ~=~

As taught by Da Kirkja Dverga



-= Contents =-

I - The Story of Creation

II - Auction of the Dead

III - Sanctity of the Beard

IV - Yemekar's Balance

V - Tale of the Three

VI - The Proverb of Greed

VII - The Fall of Wyrvun


~=~ The Story of Creation ~=~



Written by: Unknown


Before anything, there was nothing. The only thing that could be described by today’s standards was the Void. The world was a vast emptiness that we can only barely describe. Yet within nothing, there was still him, slumbering away the ages. He is not something that any mortal can hope to truly comprehend. His existence is beyond what our minds were created to understand. He is called many different names, and is interpreted in many different aspects of what we understand. Few know who he really is, and of these few, only the Dwarves know. He is Yemekar, The Creator, The Smith. One day, as The Creator, known to the Dwarves as Yemekar, looked out into the void he said to himself “I will create a world, forging it with the four aspects along with those who will populate it” So, Yemekar went to his forge and began to build. Using the divine materials of the elements, he went about forging the world and the heavens. As he forged, more and more power flowed into his eternal smithy.


The stars began to shine brighter, the world of Aegis began to bud into life, as animals came forth. When he finally completed all his grand works he looked upon it and felt it to be empty of true life, it rested in the void longing of beings of his likeness to work it, to live in it, and to praise him of such works of awe and splendor. To think beyond the instinct of a feral beast. And so, his mighty forge ringing with new found zeal, he began to craft again, making those beings that would shape the world. The forging took many millennia, the power of his forge being so strong that the very things used within it became. From his anvil flew sparks, sparks that grew into flames where they struck and from these sparks to living creatures, creatures made of the power of the forge’s flame. Lesser gods in themselves, these were known as Daemons. As he cooled his creations in the water, a great steam arose. The power of the forge was in the steam as well and it condensed, growing to pools that turned to yet more lesser gods. These gods were the Aenguls. These Daemons and Aenguls became the rest of the Brathmordakin, the gods of all creation.


But, Yemekar’s forging was incomplete. He had not yet made creatures to inhabit the world. So, he continued to forge, the Brathmordakin at his side. The first creature he made was too rough, too harsh, unbreakable but unlike to Yemekar. This was the first of the Orkos. Without destroying his creation, he placed the Ork, Krug, into the harsh deserts of Aegis, where it was too rough and uninhabitable for other beings to live. Yemekar, seeing his first creation to be too rough went to craft a fairer being. However, he overcompensated for his previous mistake and the next that was born was the first of the Elger, Malin, soft and fair yet never dulling in shine, lasting ages. They, unlike the Orkos were not violent, yet overly passive, and unwilling to act in the name of their creator. Their lives would last so long that they would surely grow tired of the world he had created for them. So he chose that the best place for them would be amongst the great forests of Aegis, where they would soon become entrapped and imprisoned by the dense foliage as it grew around them. So, continuing on with his pursuit to create a creature like himself to roam the world, he returned to his anvil once more and crafted a new being. Worried of creating a creature too strong or too long lasting he made one weaker, but bearing less of an effeminate appearance. As a solution to the deformity of the elger, he had them grow great beards and fancy moustaches, as a display of their masculinity. These beings, he named the Umros, the first of them being Horen. However, they were far too brittle for his liking, simple and uninteresting beings. Furthermore, they were prone to shave and remove the beards he had gifted them with. So he cast them upon plains and grassland, where their lives were so short that they would surely all die out in time. Finally, the creator forged from the earth, a being, strong, wise and hearty, capable of a life long enough to experience the full greatness of the world he had created. Though tough and built for battle, they were not so mindless as the Orkos. Bearing beards and facial hair, even greater and stronger than that of the Umros, they were truly crafted in his image. He named these the Dwedmar, the favoured of all the races he had created, the first of their kind named Urguan. He found for them, the finest and most visually pleasing of the lands he had built. Here, amongst great mountains and valleys, he allowed the Dwedmar to build a home.


The forging of the perfect race had not come without cost however. Through time, his creations would surely war and fight amongst one another. So Yemekar, in his divine righteousness, bestowed upon the Dwedmar a purpose to which they and their ancestors were to serve. Though the Orkos, Umros and Elgus were not the beings he had intended to create, he looked upon them mercifully. For if any one of his creations were to outdo the other, the delicate balance of the world he had created would over time, collapse into ruin. The prosperity of one of his creations would surely lead towards the suffering of another. So he spoke to Urguan and asked that if any of his creations were to prove a threat to another, the Dwedmar would intervene. For all eternity, they would act as the guardians of the balance that had existed from the start of time. So Urguan agreed to Yemekar’s wish and for years the four races continued to grow, forging mighty kingdoms upon the face of Aegis. For a time, the kingdoms were at peace, prosperous and bountiful. But, this peace was not to last.


There was one amongst the Brathmordakin, a Daemon of ambition, one whose light had grown dark before he grew to life grew yet darker. Corrupt and evil, the Daemon Khorvad sought to take greater power for himself. Looking upon the creation of Yemekar, he saw the four races and thought to himself to take them for himself, thus becoming their God. Descending upon the world, he began to speak whispers into the ears of Krug, Malin, Horen, and Urguan. To Krug, he whispered words of war and bloodshed. Krug accepted this readily, ever hungry for such things. To Malin, thoughts of the forest filled with his children, a secret wish of the elven father. Horen, growing old, was promised long life to see his creations completed. All three fell to these temptations. Only Urguan, filled with honor and in likeness to his father, Yemekar, ignored the whispers of Khorvad. Angered by the stubbornness of Urguan, Khorvad flew over the skies of Aegis, showing his true form, a being of smoke, fire, and shadow. The other brothers, seeing his form, rallied with Urguan to fight this horror.


The war waged for years, Khorvad using his power to raise the dead to his cause until finally, the brothers met with him in combat. Krug rashly charged in towards him but, due to being the brother most corrupted by Khorvad, he was changed, his skin growing a sickly green, tusks protruding from his mouth. But even this could not stop Krug’s bloodlust. Khorvad had made his hunger for battle too great and he would not stop now. The other brothers joined in, Urguan’s hammer blazing a trail of light, Horen’s sword swinging strong in hand, and the arrows of Malin streaking through the night. The battle was fierce, and in the end, the brother’s and their armies succeeded, driving Khorvad to the void. In his last shout, the evil Daemon lay a curse upon each of the brothers. Krug’s curse, beyond what he had, was to be forever at war with his brothers, especially Urguan who had been the strongest against Khorvad. Malin was cursed to have a womb closed, his children few. Horen, cursed with short life, grew frail and bent on the spot. To Urguan finally, Khorvad cursed with short stature. Yet as Khorvad was finally sealed, the Aengul Anbella, wife of Yemekar, came to the brothers, giving blessings to them all. To Krug she granted strength. To Malin, peace in the forests. To Horen, the promise of one day exploring the Seven Skies. Finally to Urguan was granted hardiness and strong mind and the heart to fight evil.



~=~ Auction of the Dead ~=~



Written by: Indago Stormhammer and Morgrim Grandaxe


Khaz’a’Dentrumm is said to rest within the plains of the afterlife. When a Dwarf dies, their souls are carried by Dungrimm to be judged by the Brathmordakin for their actions in life. Yemekar was said to have forged the moon that inhabits the gods of the Brathmordakin. From here, they watch over the lives of Dwarves. It is also said to bear the Great Anvil that forged our world. The Moon is only accessible by the most honorable and zealous of Dwarves, who had shown either great valor in battle or great diligence in their life. When a Dwarf has passed on, a select view are invited to a grand feast within the halls of the Gods, forever to eat and drink. These individuals are known as the Paragons and act as near demi-gods in the eyes of their kin. This plane of the afterlife is known as Khaz’A’Dentrumm and is where all Dwarves strive to go when they die. Here, the Paragons rule while ordinary Dwarves are auctioned amongst the Brathmordakin. Those unfortunate and honourless Dwarves who fail to gain a bid from any of the gods are instead cast into Vuur'Dor, an entirely separate plane of the afterlife.


The creation of this afterlife is primarily unknown. Supposedly the void existed for as long as the Creator himself and so all of the Brathmordakin are believed to have devised this punishment for those Dwarves who had acted dishonorably and shameful throughout their mortal lives.  This plane is otherwise known as Vuur'Dor, literally translating to Black Doom in the common tongue. When a Dwarf passses on into this form of the afterlife, they experience an endless cycle of emotionless despair, where they wander for all eternity. It is said that honourless beings delve these depths when none of the gods have selected them to pass on into the halls of Khaz’A’Dentrumm. Mages are said to derive the source of their power from the void and it is further suspected that this is where Khorvad and his minions currently linger.



~=~ Sanctity of the Beard ~=~


Written by: Aldal Ireheart


The curses of Khorvad still hung in the still air when Anbella descended on Krug, Malin, Horen and Urguan. The four heroes were in awe as they watched her appear, falling to their knees.


 Anbella began to speak in a hushed voice. Every word she spoke seemed to fill the four with hope, each sweet sentence sounding like the haunting, bright melody of a harp. She reached out, touching Krug's head. The great and powerful warrior shook beneath her hand. Even he could not deny the power of the Brathmordakin. Anbella spoke to Krug, her voice caring and motherly. "Krug, you are a great warrior, and the Brathmordakin look with favour upon your strength and courage. Henceforth, you shall be strong and powerful unlike any other, a true soldier when it is necessary." With that, Anbella moved on, this time touching Malin's head.


  "Malin," the Hearth Mother said softly. "You long for nothing but peace, your heart affected heavily by violence. This peace you shall have, should you reside in the forests." Upon hearing these words, Malin smiled, crying out his thanks to Anbella. The Hearth Mother simply returned his smile, moving on to Horen.


Anbella touched Horen's frail head, leaning in close to speak to him. "Horen," she said, "You wish to explore the Seven Skies. This wish shall one day be granted." Horen's eyes welled with tears as the Hearth Mother approached Urguan.


 Anbella beamed as she looked upon the Father of The Dwarves. "Urguan," she smiled, "Brave and resilient. To you I grant the greatest gift of all." Urguan remained silent, his head bowed beneath the touch of the Hearth Mother. "You shall be strong of mind and heart, hardy enough to do battle with the forces of evil. But to you," she said, still smiling, "I grant yet another present."


 Urguan had begun to stand up, thinking his gifts had all been received. Upon hearing these words he knelt once again before Anbella. "To you," the Heart Mother continued, "I grant that which the Brathmordakin strive to achieve, that which Yemekar himself has."


 Urguan's eyes widened at this point. Anbella grinned, speaking again. "To you I grant the power to grow your beard long, to rival the beards of the Brathmordakin. Your descendants shall all have immense beards with which they shall be able to store their belongings, so very large they shall grow. However, make sure to treat your beard with the utmost respect, it is to become a symbol of your people, something which is revered and worshiped. If ever one of your descendants should remove or damage their beards, they must be punished, for this is the greatest of sins."


 Anbella then reached out, touching Urguan's chin, upon which a beard already grew. Suddenly, The Father of The Dwarves' beard grew to an enormous length, curling at the end. He often had to tuck it under his belt, for it was the mightiest beard ever seen on the mortal plane. He fell before Anbella, weeping words of thanks and praise for the Brathmordakin.


And so, the Father of The Dwarves received the greatest beard ever seen before. His childrens' beards grew to impressive lengths after he had passed away, and in fact, the beards of all of his descendants. Urguan's people revered their beards as they had been asked, and punished anyone who mistreated their beards. The beard became a symbol of their people, as it still is to this day.



~=~ Yemekar's Balance ~=~



Written by: Morgrim Grandaxe


From the dawn of time it was said to be the creator, Yemekar, who selected the Dwarves as the chosen amongst all his creations. However, with this great honour, there too came responsibility. Yemekar commanded of Urguan that he and his kin would forever ensure that none of his creations would ever bear the power to completely destroy another. “Go forth my children, and preserve the balance of my creation. For you are the pillars that uphold the world.” Though these words have held many different meanings throughout various ages of Dwarven history it is generally accepted by most within the Dwarven clergy as a matter that remains relevant to this day. Urguan accepted his creator’s bidding and thus the Dwarven race, throughout the vast majority of its existence, remained vigilant in the event that an empire were to rise. This has in practise become known better amongst the Dwarves as the preservation of ‘Yemekar’s Balance.’ For if ever a nation were to cast aside its morality in favour of the pursuit of power, the prosperity of other nations would surely suffer at its hands.


The concept of Yemekar's Balance therefore revolves largely around a fierce opposition towards policies of expansionism and the invasion of another nation's sovereign territory without a cause deemed righteous in the eyes of the gods. Furthermore, in the majority of circumstances, wars that are declared in the name of Yemekar's Balance are almost exclusively made in the defense of nations deemed to lack the capability to defend themselves. However, there are a few unique examples that can indeed be to seen to differ from this norm. If a nation is found to be harboring a capability that is deemed either unholy or dangerous in the wrong hands, the Dwarves may choose to act against them. For example, golemancy, gifted unto the hands of the Dwarves by Yemekar himself, is considered a very real threat in the hands of those who are not to be trusted.


Today, we may take no extraordinary effort in viewing how the pursuit of power has corrupted and torn at the very fabrics of the world. It was said that the Daemon, Khorvad, was once one amongst the Brathmordakin, represented by a will for ambition. Yet with ambition, came the everlasting desire for more. It was a thought that plagued the Ironborn ruler, Velkan, as he departed from the ways of Yemekar and instead opted to follow in Khorvad’s footsteps. So too was it a driving force behind the Holy Oren Empire and its reign of havoc upon the Princedom of Malinor. For this, Thorin Grandaxe, former Grand King of Urguan ought to be commended for his actions, even in going up against a power that for a period of its history, held the capacity to conquer much of the world. For though when the Empire fell, Thorin had within his grasp the opportunity to take both Malinor and Oren for himself, he did not give in to such temptations. If we are indeed to take one lesson from Thorin’s actions, it is that even when we are seemingly on the verge of victory, it is never in any case wise to forsake Yemekar’s will. Though greed is a natural blessing, bestowed upon Dwarves by the god, Grimdugan, ambition and a thirst for power are what drives mortal beings mad. Consequently, it is by no coincidence that empire building is deemed an act of sin in the eyes of many of Urguan’s descendants.



~=~ Tale of the Three ~=~


Written by: Morgrim Grandaxe


Many years ago, the great sons of Urguan faced the decimation of the world as they knew it and the collapse of civilization to the hordes of Khorvad’s scourge. Though many stories can be told of the heroes who entered the depths of the Nether to challenge the undead, there is but one that shall be focused upon this day. It is of course that of the three Dwarven Champions, the Paragons Urir Ireheart, Kjell Ireheart and Valen Grandaxe. For it was as our world burned and the skies fell that our very existence was left in their hands. Their deeds are what allow us now to continue to breathe the fresh airs of Yemekar’s blessing. For that, they shall be amongst those heroes of legend we will remember for all eternity.


To begin our tale, it was upon the dawn of impending doom that Grand King Thorik Grandaxe of Kal’Urguan was made aware of what was to come. Despite vast military victories in recent times, the last century had represented an era of sin. Many Dwarves had forsaken their true gods in the aftermath of the collapse of the Khorvadic Empire. Instead, they turned towards the Ascended, worshippers of Aeriel and followers of a heretical doctrine. Yet as the human Kingdom of Oren fell, and the Dwarves were betrayed by the Ascended at Alras, they proved only that their words were of poison. Though the Dwarves soon realised the fault in their ways, they now stood truly alone.


Despite this, there was but one last hope that still remained. The Nether as it was known, a desolate and godforsaken plane, where within stood the great towers of Drauchreich. There, the undead conducted their slaughter upon the mortal world with merciless efficiency. It was here that the Dwarven heroes would be challenged to cast the Axe of Krug into the fiery well, and once and for all, bring an end to Khorvad’s reign. Quickly, Grand King Thorik spread the word to his highest advisors who each expressed their own forms of concern. There were three amongst his council who ultimately took upon the burden of entering the Nether. Urir Ireheart, ‘Bane of the Undead’ famed for his aggressive nature and stoicism in the face of danger. Kjell Ireheart, ‘The Emperor Dragon Slayer’ a fierce leader and an inspiration to those who served beneath him. Finally there was Valen Grandaxe, ‘The Wordsmith’ a Dwarf who valued diplomatic intrigue and the power of words above all else. Together, they were the three who would go on to face the undead.


As the gates of Kal’Urguan fell and the once great and thriving civilization of Dwarves were forced to retreat from their hallowed halls, there was but one light in the darkness that still shone bright. Though the Ascended had failed to unite the races and defend the civilizations of Aegis in time, their failure soon led to the reestablishment of the true Dwarven religion. By Yemekar’s mercy and Dungrimm’s might, the Dwarves would fight on until the bitter end. For this, the three champions were not afraid to perish within the fires of Khorvad’s domain. Whether for honour, glory or redemption, they would do all in their power to protect their kin. For the Dwarves who had survived the Fall of Kal’Urguan, they together reignited the fires of hope.


When the day soon dawned upon them that they would enter through the gates of the nether, they did so without fear or regard for their own lives. Joining up with champions of the other mortal races, they would all fight on for their world’s survival. In the many barrages of fire from the undead beasts, Kjell was knocked aside unconscious as his kin pushed onwards. Urir however was armoured in the plating, provided to him by the Grand King, said to be blessed by Yemekar himself. Along with his own superior agility, he stormed ahead of the group of champions, battling waves upon waves of undead single-handedly, until finally both he and Valen reached the great undead fortress of Drauchreich. From there, the two Dwarves divided into separate directions. It was Urir however who came upon the Axe of Krug. Entry required the payment of a soul and so another of the mortal races nobly cast himself over the edge of the fortress, so giving the Dwarf entry. Urir went on, discovering that only by sacrificing his own life would he be able to destroy the Axe. As his whole life flashed before his eyes, he dropped into the inferno of the Nexus, the Axe of Krug held gripped between his fingers. In a great burst of energy, the city of Drauchreich collapsed into the fires from whence it came, while the portals to the plane of the damned were sealed forever.


Though Urir had paid the ultimate sacrifice, his kin had not yet fallen. As Drauchreich began to collapse all around him, Valen was forced to step through one of the portals as it quickly snapped shut behind him. There he found himself deep within a great cave system, no life, nor a single being around him. Still lost however, he eventually stumbled upon an Alrasian, his once mortal enemy. Together, the two agreed to put aside their grudges for the time being, traversing the cave system until they reached the surface world once again. As great dragons poured fire around them, they battled their way back towards the Cloud Temple, where together, they rejoined their kin and went on into the portal that would one day guide them to Asulon. Kjell too had awoken and made his way back through the portal, stepping back out to see the sight of a burning forest of Laurelin. There, the great black dragons of Khorvad wreaked havoc upon the world. Legend has it told that Kjell battled the dragons, defeating them all before departing for the fallen city of Kal’Urguan. There, for the duration of his life, he would remain as its last guardian and defender.


Though the stories of Valen and Kjell did not end there, these shall be told another day. For the Ascended would have us believe that it was they who led the way to the destruction of the undead. Yet, that one amongst our Dwarven kin would venture into the depths of the nether, knowing if not certain of their own imminent demise is extraordinary. For this, the actions of the three shall be remembered and as Paragons, they shall eternally feast within the great halls of the Brathmordakin. For the story of the three must be remembered amongst our kin if we are ever to face such a threat again. May in times of great peril, the grace of Yemekar guide us forward once more and his divine light give hope where this is none.



~=~ The Proverb of Greed ~=~



Written by: Bazian Grandaxe


One crisp mountian morning, the two Dwarven gods Grimdugan, the Lord of Avarice, and Armakak, the Merchant Father, looked down upon Yemekar's world and saw two young beardlings. Grimdugan turns to his brother and says, "Look at these two brothers run about, they are but a double-edged axe, one is no different than the other. Nothing could be said about these two that is different than the other."


Armakak looks down on the world in agreement, he could not refute his brother's claim. Being the rivals that these two brothers are, Grimdugan proposes a challange. "Look brother, I have many a keg of ale and you have many a keg of beer. Let us wager them so that we may see whom is the master of the mint, king of the coin. I will teach the lad Kili as you teach the lad Bili. The lad that has the most coin after three days is the victor."


Unable to resist a challenge from his bitter rival, Armakak accepts saying. "Aye brother, you will see that patience and hard work is the way to earn true wealth."


So, on the First day, the two great gods taught the beardlings and prepared them for the next day. Armakak gave Bili a pick which he mined great veins of iron to sell at his stall. Grimdugan gave Kili an obsidian dagger which he stole Bili's iron and sold it at his own stall. All day long this happened and Grimdugan laughed. "Look brother, my pupil has much more coin than yours, surely you should give up now." Armakak just smiled and said, "Just wait brother and see."


On the Second day, Bili went back to the mines and brought back up more iron to sell. Kili, once again came and took it from Bili to his stall. Bili kept mining and would not break will, as Armakak taught him.


On the Third day, Bili again mines and brings back iron to his stall. Although, Kili does not steal from Bili this day. Poisoned by greed, Kili lay dead for he thought nothing else besides his gold for he forgot to take care of his stomach.


Armakak lets out a hardy laughs as Grimdugan grimaces. "You see now brother? Diligence and strong will leads to wealth.



~=~ The Fall of Wyrvun ~=~



Written by: Thorik Grandaxe and Valen Grandaxe


Long ago, in ancient times when the world was young and pure, the first snows of the Deep Cold arrived. At first, the mortal races who lived beneath them marvelled at their beauty but as years passed, the cold would not release its icy grip and it held tight as many would perish. The ground froze and crops would no longer grow, as warmth and firewood became ever scarcer. Soon enough, the creator looked upon the world with pity as he saw the suffering of his people. Though without the heart to destroy such a beautiful creation, it was something with the power to destroy all life and thus needed to be controlled.


It was then that Wyrvun was created, the very embodiment of the ice cold winds and the frost that settled upon the ground. For he was the Lord of the Deep Cold and the elements of his realm each answered to his call. An Aengul of great power, at his command were all that made up the realm of ice. Such was his power that he could even contest many of the creator’s divine beings. His love for all that was of the Deep Cold was strong, and it pained him deeply that the mortal races of the world dreaded for it to begin and would soon celebrate its end.


There then came a day when a darkness fell over the world, and even the realm of Wyrvun was not untouched. It was here that a shadow encompassed Wyrvun's domain, and darkness slowly crept upon the frozen north. As the shade grew ever closer to his dwelling, the ice seemed to turn into a deep black, and swallow what light was left. Wyrvun could only gaze upon this darkness and in doing so, felt the corruption of the world in which he lived. The ice which light had once danced upon, became dark, twisted and corrupt, a shadow of its former self. Though the fear would not control him, the voices in his mind started to murmur, as they tore at his very being from within.


“Would an eternal cold not be beautiful? The mortals wish you gone, and yet you care for them! Why should you, Wyrvun, Lord of the Deep Cold, not spread your realm and consume the world?”


As the words were uttered, Wyrvun seemed to fall into a dazed state and for the first time in his existence, he felt an ever consuming fear. It was not in his creation to be either weak, nor foolish and in his fury, the world shook. The mountains responded, and a blizzard which was by far unmatched by any other, crept down from the north, destroying all in its path. As it approached, a gigantic being in the form of a dragon emerged from within, larger than any mountain stood. Its form could bend light and surrounding it, a blue glow was cast. As it let out an almighty roar, the temperature dropped and the air seemed to freeze. Wyrvun was bound to no form, but commanded all in the realm of ice.


In spite of this, the shade stood in the shadow of the dragon, and from it, arose a sinister laugh. Darkness and flame begun to envelope the ground at Wyrvun’s feet and so he raised his wings and flew high above the mountaintops, his presence blocking out the rays of the sun and casting a pulsating blue light upon the north. Though in all his might, Wyrvun was no match for the Lord of Darkness. Something grabbed a hold of his leg and dragged him down into the black abyss below, where no light shone and only darkness prevailed.


There he was bound by shadow and fire, and a last roar of defiance escaped him as the once so pure, mighty and beautiful Wyrvun was dragged far beneath the ground into a prison of the darkest magic. What evils happened down there are known to none other than he, for what came was an abomination of his former self. All that arose from the abyss was a twisted and corrupt being. The Lord of the Deep Cold who once had been so beautiful and pure was now dark and terrible.


“Rise Ondnarch, terror of the north, bringer of the silent cold... Enslaver... Consumer...Devourer.”

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