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The Tome of our people : In dedication to the brave souls of the Confederation of Hammers


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Aghuid Ireheart aint got the attention span to read this

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Grimrodd would read over the old tome and begin to reminisce over the life he once had. The old dwarf thinking back to days of yor when he was a young dwarf with his brother Grilthram and remembering the days he stood in the great and mighty halls of Agnarum, Those were the finest days of the old dwarves life his mind goes to the ones who are lost and the days they all shared together he is thankful for these memories but closes the tome with a great sadness knowing now they are long passed.

 

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Dain Metalfist read through the old tome as a grand smile appeared onto his face, he'd think back about the good old times in the confederation of hammers and in Agnarum when he used to lead the Legion of urguan. He then looked down at his children as he told them ”Read des keds, des tells ef wot yer fameleh ‘as done en ahr loifes. Ef da grand toimes ef da confederatien ef ‘ammers whech turned entu da kengdom we currentleh live en safeleh.” He'd then close the tome as he happily answered all the questions his children had about the old days, happily moving to sit at the fire place.”

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Bakir Ireheart manages to skim over it, learning more and more about dwarven history. Hoping they’d do a piece on Utak and Gror Ireheart

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Grand Marshal Dimlin Irongut would peruse the tome beginning to appreciate it profoundly as he'd read. His thoughts sauntering back to his pursuits and discussions with the Confederation of Hammers, many a time viewing them as amateurs and rustics but always applauding them because for their righteous cause. As he'd finished the tome he finally realized his erroneous belief "Ah treated t'em too hars'ly, t'is tome truly brings into perspective our history...it is paramount t'at we teac' our youth ancient histore' but also t'at of recent history.....t'e history of t'e progenitor of t'is current Grand Kingdom." He'd state firmly endorsing the recollection of Atlasian history, the chronicle of foundation and honor.

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[!] Deep in the halls of the dwarven city sat an aged dwarf who poured over his research. In those dusted chambers walked a scribe who gave him a new book of dwarven history. 
Several hours later, a smile formed on his weary face as he quickly wrote a small note.
“Scribe!” The dwarf called out. “take this to the notice board, I’d like everyone to see it please...”

The letter itself read the following
”It is in both my surprise and joy, that I write this letter on behalf of the Remembrancer Guild. To all who see this, I am personally going to recommend you read this tome, as it captures the feel of that era. While not written by any of my authors, I will give this the praise it deserves as I look forward to more” – High Remembrancer Kazrin Starbreaker 
Stamped below was the Official Sigil of the Remembrancer Guild, a brown owl with inquisitive eyes. Intricate lines of gold covering its body. 

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Belestram Sylvaeri, Founder Prince Emeritus of Elvenesse and Aegrothond, finishes reading the tome and sets it aside. His ancient gaze rizes to the blue horizon far beyond his seaward home, and bows his head. “May their names be unforgotten, may their beards grow ever-longer in the Halls of the Gods. We fought alongside them against the tyranny of Azwyrtrumm- would that we could do so again! Glory to the heroes!"

Belestram Sylvaeri, Founder Prince Emeritus of Elvenesse and Aegrothond, finishes reading the tome and sets it aside. His ancient gaze rizes to the blue horizon far beyond his seaward home, and bows his head. “May their names be unforgotten, may their beards grow ever-longer in the Halls of the Gods. We fought alongside them against the tyranny of Azwyrtrumm- would that we could do so again! Glory to the heroes!"

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Grand King Jorvin Starbreaker reads from within the royal apartment of Kal’Evraal, tired eyes flicking across the document in the dim firelight which illuminated the chamber. As he read, he recalled each story told to him by his mentors and friends in the halls of Kal’Azgaryum. How long ago that was...Jorvin felt the passage of time weigh down upon him like a brick.

 

He was a boy when Ulrah fell, a boy traumatized by the sights, sounds, and smells of war. Those dwellers of of the southern peaks had no reason to welcome his kin. His father, his uncles, and his siblings had been on the wrong side of history.

 

And yet they did.

 

He remembered the marching and drills under Utak and Dain, marshalling a disciplined throng from a host of outcasts, cripples, and refugees. So few they were, yet nevertheless ready for the day the Empire, the Urks, or any other foe came to their door. Jorvin memorized those drills, he practiced them every day until he could preform them in his sleep.

 

Twice a day, every day for years, Twenty? Thirty? He didn’t remember now. He patrolled the hinterlands and valleys surrounding Azgaraz until he grew as familiar with them as he had his childhood home.

 

While his father still mourned the loss of the Crownhold and Jorvin’s mother, it was Gimli Metalfist who first taught the young Starbreaker how to forge, and how to defend himself if need-be. During those dark years, Gimli was like an older brother to him, a mentor for a troubled youth, who himself was not all too old. It was a friendship that would last. Jorvin and Gimli’s expeditions into the Yatl Wastes saw to that. In that dark, cold place where no light did shone.

 

He remembered the hospitality of Bjor, who he shared drinks with every day during his morning patrol. Funny to think now the silly Dwarf with a talent for mead was a religious icon, and cultic figure for the forest-folk.

 

He recalled the medal given to him by Utak after his seventh training. It was nothing major, a simple reward for diligent behavior, but Jorvin cherished it. To him it was a sign he was no longer the scared boy bleeding to near-death in the streets of Ulrah, but a man ready and trained to defend his home and his kin, however few they were. That tiny hold on the edge of the wastelands carried their race through one of the darkest chapters in their history.

 

Never again would their race fall. That was what those who dwelled within the hold of outcasts and refugees said to him. Those words were what Jorvin held close to his heart. When they battled through arctic winds and Vaeyl hordes to reach refuge. When he commanded the Dwarven forces against the voidal scourge that threatened Arcas thirty years ago...And now, as he commanded the Throng of Urguan against the Neverborn, the Host of the Damned, the Inferi.

 

Never again.

 

The Grand King ceased his internal musings for a moment, and his eyes drifted. He looked to his bed, the riches piled beside it worth a dozen human kingdoms, wealth unimaginable during those days. He looked to the sleeping form beside him, and recalled how he never expected to live long enough to see such things as...Love, not when the Long War was in need of winning. Finally, his gaze drifted to the wall, where a faded, torn and bloodstained Azgaryumos banner hung beside that of the Grand Kingdom, the Kingdom they built.

 

He might have been no veteran of the Confederation, he might not have known all the struggles, but he shared many, and Gods know by now he was the veteran of dozens of battles himself. All to uphold his oath sworn under the peak of Azgaraz, his oath to protect the Dwarvish folk.

 

 


 

PUBLIC WRIT OF ENDORSEMENT

FROM THE OFFICE OF THE GRAND KING

 

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Being the son of the High Remembrancer, it is rare I find a historical piece that intrigues me, for much of it I already know and have studied. This is likewise the case here, however while I know its contents well from stories told round the hearth and Legion campfire, I can say with certain this is the first document in many years which has truly moved me. 

 

The history of our folk during the Atlesian Period is one wrought with tragedy. It is a story of kinstrife and sacrifice, but most of all, how the determination and stubbornness of a rare few can alter the course of history. No longer do we live on borrowed time, in fear of a mighty Empire. No longer do we suffer barely the means to sustain ourselves. Not only has Grand Urguan been reforged, it has been forged stronger from said hardship.

 

All my adult life, I have bled in service to the idea that is Grand Urguan, and I can say without a shred of doubt that without those dauntless few of the Confederation, we would not be the Superpower we are now. To those few who remain who carried our people through the final years of the Kinstrife, to those without whom our people would remain under the boot of tyrants and foreigners, I say this.

 

Narvak oz Agnarum

Yarred Den-Agnar’azgaraz thamar ihonlor threin

Na oz narvak-nar-tazarak thamar velak

Thoth ok kraviil'ur'khrum

Yoth Urguan

 

ᚾᚨᚱᚡᚨᚴᛟᛉᚨᚷᚾᚨᚱᚢᛗ

ᚤᚨᚱᚱᛖᛞᛞᛖᚾᚨᚷᚾᚨᚱᚨᛉᚷᚨᚱᚨᛉᛏᚺᚨᛗᚨᚱᛁᚺᛟᚾᛚᛟᚱᛏᚺᚱᛖᛁᚾ

ᚾᚨᛟᛉᚾᚨᚱᚡᚨᚴᚾᚨᚱᛏᚨᛉᚨᚱᚨᚴᛏᚺᚨᛗᚨᚱᚡᛖᛚᚨᚴ

ᛏᚺᛟᛏᚺᛟᚴᚴᚱᚨᚡᛁᛁᛚᚢᚱᚴᚺᚱᚢᛗ

ᚤᛟᛏᚺᚢᚱᚷᚢᚨᚾ

 

 

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The High Prophet Norli Starbreaker reads the extensive history, and offers a pained smile as he finishes. He takes out a paper, and begins to scribe a response:

When I fought in that harrowing battle at New Jornheim Fields in my youth, in the aftermath when the ground ran red like a river of my kindred’s blood, I was mortified at what had come of dwarfdom. I ran from it, I hid. I swore off all trust in da khazadmar, and believed our race damned by the Brathmordakin after we had forsaken the teachings of Khaz’A’Dentrumm. In my nightmares did I hear songs of Belka herself, singing me the horrors I had witnessed. I became stoic en my disdain of my kindred.

I was a coward.

While I retreated to the caverns of Axios, Atlas, Arcas, there were those who tirelessly fought for the salvation of dwarfdom, they who by sweat and blood, by immense sacrifice to safety and prosperity would forge from the remnants of the fathers a new nation, conceived in the ideals of the Brathmordakin. While I wrote songs of doom and pessimism, they wrote anthems and ballads of glory. While I wished for the final extinction of my kin so that Yemekar’s Design would be rid of our filth, they made us again honored.

I have nothing but immense respect for these khazadmar, these heroes of all dwarfdom who built the foundation on which I stand today. It was at the naming of a new Paragon, at Bjor Cottonwood’s death, by which my songs once again ran with optimism and hope, and that I shall never forget.

Hallowed was the Confederation
Hallowed be that which was built upon it
Hallowed be the Grand Kingdom of Urguan.


The High Prophet signs the letter and sends it to be nailed to the notice board. “It’s time we all understood what they did for us,” he mumbles as a tear rolls down his cheek.

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Dhain Metalfist would look up to his father as he read the tome and spoke softly once his father was done talking “But dah, oi donnae  ‘ow tae rehd, yeh said et wow get pussehs and pess’eads” he’d scratch his thin beard and then turn to his brother Jorvin Metalfist “hrm Jorvie oi fink dah es a pess’ead.”

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Fimlin Grandaxe studies the document with great interest, with feelings of nostalgia and regret mulling over the history of the one of the most tumultuous times in dwarven history. But beside that the document brought forth to Fimlin’s mind his high regard towards the Confederation, and how it was them that made the reunion of the Dwedmar possible. 

 

“The Confederation was in aneh sense an organic Kingdom o’ dwed, they were much alike ‘ow we were ‘fore toime and greed ‘ad aged the ol’ Grand Kingdom. They were ah nation out of toime, more innocent o’ the their forbearer’s transgressions. Ah dunnae t’ink maneh these days know of the Confederation, especialleh before Agnarum. Teh focus of ‘istory falls wit’ old Urguan or Kaz’Ulrah, but the Confederation’s history is our ‘eritage, and t’ose who remember owe it to the dwedmar to keep tha’. As ah was warned at the toime, uniteh could swallow the Confederation, an’ per’aps it ‘as somewhat. But ah do believe documentation, an’ this tome will ‘elp tha’.

 

Agnarum, an’ later our New Urguan was forged with the vigor an’ spirit of the confederation an’ the experience of elder dwed. since then the dwedmar of the Confederation of Hammers ‘ave done well, learned well and lead our people proudleh an’ ‘onorableh. But wit’out the Confederation an t’eir sacrifoices there would be nae Urguan.

 

it was Grilthram, Grimrodd an’ Gimli who let us foind the ground we needed to start our reunification, an’ it was Utak, Gimli an’ Bjor’s w’os work built up the nation further to get w’ere weh are nuw.”

 Fimlin would say to anyone talking of the tome while sitting in the tavern.

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[!] As a cold morning breeze would roll over the farmlands of Hefrumm and rush through its fields of wheat and carrots, carrying golden leaves of Autumn, the petrified body of Bjor Cottonwood would be returned to the roots of the tree of Ancestors. The Paragon’s remains were returned to the ground above, carried by his sons as they saw it fit during these calmer times. The amber hue of a rising sun would set upon the solidified Paragon, who’d once again look over his lands. Lifeless and cold the body of Bjor Cottonwood stood regardless of all the warmth the sun were to give him, yet his soul would be feasting in the halls of Khaz’A’Dentrumm, one would assume. With an ale horn, unrealistic in size, in his bulky hands, the stouty dwarf looked down at his kin, with great joy filling his loving heart and his adoptive father Boldrumir joining his side. Old memories were brought back to his mind of times simpler yet beautiful. 

It was the Confederation of Hammers that took in the lost boy, saving him from madness caused by solitude and deprivation of his kin. A home he was given within the remains of the now-empty Cottonwood village. In the halls of Azgaryum they welcomed him like their own. 

A grin of a warming joy would curl under the dwarf’s mustache at the thought of these times. He did not solely feel grateful, but also proud to see what his kin and closest brotherin had become. 

 

 

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[!] A meeting of Hammers within Azgaryum

 

Utak Ireheart he had known as a brother, both clanless and filled with youthful foolishness when they met. Bjor remembered the times when their kin were at an all low, and many had departed from Azgaryum’s halls, it was Utak Goldylocks who had stayed with the young forest dwarf. From these simple times, Utak had grown both in physical might and political insight. Leading his kin as king of the reformed Urguan through wars greater than they as boys could ever imagine. Bringing glory in conquest to their dwarven kin, something that hadn’t been seen in a long time. Utak was the brother that had taken in Bjor, bringing him to his home and new-found family, for this Bjor would be ever grateful to Utak. 

 

Gimli Metalfist, the one that showed Bjor around in the halls of Azgaryum at his arrival. He was the most dwarven dwarf Bjor had ever to know, filled with honor, pride, and love for his kin and halls, he had led the Confederation through political stances. Gimli Metalfist, would be a name Bjor saw spread across the realm of descendants, for how could one not, heil the mighty Gimler of Azgaryum. 

 

Norkai of the Hightower was a dwarf mysterious to Bjor at first, yet when he later rose to the position of Keeper the mighty dwarf led with an eye for culture and ways. He organized feasts and taught the young dwarves about the ways of the Brathmordakin, lessons to ever stick with the forest dwarf. Norkai sadly came to his end before the departure of Atlas, yet his wisdoms stayed with the kin of the Confederation.

 

Thumril Metalfist, one of Bjor’s greatest comrades. Together the two traveled to many places, like the lands of Dunshire, doing good yet often youthful mischief. Thumril showed Bjor the vast plains and cities beyond the forests he had wandered, and a friendship to last until the end of their days. 

 

Jorvin Starbreaker, yet a mere simple scout of Agnarum when Bjor resided in his rather empty village at the time. The young Starbreaker often visited the forest dwarf on his daily patrols over the hills of Agnarumm’s valleys, saving the dwarf from crippling loneliness within his village. Though Bjor never got the chance to say so, this was something he carried within his heart till his death and was grateful for beyond death itself. The once simple scout had now risen to Kingship of Urguan under Bjor’s watchful eyes. A king that leads his folk with an unseen passion and love for his kin to the very core of his being. Where his kingship will lead Bjor is uncertain, for Bjor is dead not a seer, but that Jorvin will do all for the better of his kin he knows for sure. 

 

⧫Boldrumir Cottonwood was the only forest dwarf Bjor was to meet during his youth. A dwarf scarred by his past and left with an empty village. Regardless of this Boldrumir took in Bjor into his village as a son of his own, telling great tales of the Cottonwood clan. This would be a great influence in Bjor’s later ambitions towards his forest dwarven kin. Even though the old forest dwarf later departed the lands of  the Confederation because of his past, in search of redemption, Boldrumir sparked a love for his forest dwarven kin within the heart of Bjor.

 

Dwarger Silvervein, the dwarf more eager to woop someone's ass that Bjor had ever seen. A warrior that has stood ground many times against the Frostbeards for the lands of the Confederation. Evenwhen times were less certain he had joined the Silverveins in their departure, the friendship between the two was never broken. 

 

The Hammerforges that had come before him, he knew less, yet he knew very well the halls he resided in were carved with the help of these great dwarves. The axe and sword he had wielded to defend the home of his kin had been forged by their hands. Joy it brought Bjor to see these dwarves had returned to their kin. 


 

Though Bjor met many more brothers and sisters in his coming years, the brothers and sisters of the Confederation were those that shaped the young dwarf. All good he was later to do for his kin, would have never been possible without these mighty dwarves. 

With ale at the ready, Bjor Cottonwood would follow their brothers with watchful eyes, waiting for their rejoice once again. Expecting some of these great dwed to join him in Paragonhood. 

 

Bjor would Confed-salute his brothers from death. 

 

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https://imgur.com/a/kKwlE2l

https://imgur.com/a/SZVQjy7

 

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[!] Grilthram Hammerforge appearing now after so long to read the tome of his brothers and sisters of the confederation. Standing in the room of the library a place he hadn’t visited in such a long time, with the travels of the world being seen across his face. He was old now streaks of white parted the red sea of his flowing beard and his face more wrinkled and furrowed then in his youth. He would smile as he unfurled the book opening up to read the history of the confederation of hammers. Greeted with the symbol of the confederation the symbol of the silvervein and hammerforge clan the gem and fire, the balance of them both equal in standing. He would think back to when he first roamed the wildlands near santegia finding a suitable mountain home. That when he stood in the valley where the cottonwoods would settle peering up to the two peaks of what was to become azgaraz and azgaryum. He never would have thought that it would come as far as it did, and it only has through the sheer determination of everyone that has ever called themselves apart of the confederation.*

 

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[!] He would write a letter in the back of the book for those who read after him.

 

“Of all the greatest accomplishments of our race we can attest to. Never forget our greatest strength...UNITY.”

“For all our faults, and all our sins, In the heat of adversity we persevere together and together we can overcome anything.”

“Be loyal to each other, Never be greedy with power, All dwarves are created equal under the guidance of yemekar. Keep the lives of your fellow dwarves above all else, and stomp out any corruption.”

Dwedmar of Azgaryum arise! Let us build the nation.”

 

(A thank you to everyone who ever was apart of this movement. Those who built us to the peak and those who carried us through the valley. It couldn’t have made it this far without the strength and will of those who held high the banner of the confederation. When one dropped the banner another came to lift it up and so too when he could no longer bear that banner another came to share the burden until at last the banner reached its goal to forever be seen by all. A flag in the wind, flapping proudly the colors of the red,blue,and gold.)

Edited by paladinxo1
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Lulubelle reads through the tome, her amber eyes flicking slowly across the script as golden lamplight flashes and flickers over the paper. She’s silent as she reads of the Kinstrife her cousin and King so frequently refers to, her dark brows knitted together and a troubled wrinkle spread across her forehead. Soon however she turns a page and her apparent dismay fades to an inspired smile as she reads of the Starbreakers being welcomed into the Confederation, and the unity and camaraderie which followed.

 

The lass could place many names to faces, but as many were unknown to her, lost to history now. Nevertheless as the oil of her lamp began to burn low, she closed the heavy tome with a soft thump and sat back in her chair within the library. A moment of quiet thought followed, as the beardling now better understood the wounds of the past.

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