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Only fools, and I must say tremendous fools, would ever dare to make an audacious attempt to claim a dwarven relic for themselves.


The sheer power and magnitude of this relic are beyond anything we've ever seen before. It's tremendous, folks, truly tremendous.


Let me tell you, the highest possible magics, the most powerful magics known to our species, have been intricately woven into the very fabric of this anvil.

It's like nothing you've ever seen, believe me. Anyone who dares to lay their hands on it will be consumed by madness.


Yes, you heard that right, madness! This is not a game, folks. It's a matter of utmost importance and caution.

Now, we might find ourselves in a situation where we have no other choice, no other option but you to confront the might of the dwarves of Tal'Yrro.


We, let me tell you, are formidable. We have a history of resilience, strength, and honor. But mark my words, we will not back down. We will face you head-on, with courage and determination.

However, there is still a chance for peaceful resolution. I urge you, my dear adversaries, to reconsider your actions.


Surrender the anvil, this remarkable dwarven relic, or else you may face the consequences, the final judgment.


And let me tell you, folks, you won't like what awaits you if you choose to defy us.

So, think wisely, consider the gravity of your actions. This is a pivotal moment, a crossroads where the fate of our worlds hangs in the balance.


Let's strive for diplomacy, for understanding, and avoid unnecessary conflicts.


Only then can we hope to navigate through these troubled times and forge a brighter future for all.

            Charles “The Bald”
Grand Marshall of Tal’Yrro

The First Dwed of The Underworld

The Reformer of Justice

The Grandest Dwarven Champion

The Creature of Kaz'Ulrah

The Defender of The Rhun






Edited by Charles The Bald
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And yet, despite the amounting threats against this alleged inimical cult -- there would be no conflict, for the peace brought by the Anvil permeated the entire under, and could not be set asunder.
The Anvil.

The Anvil.

The Anvil.

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"ᴵᵗ'ˢ ˡᶦᶠᵉ ᵒʳ ᵈᵉᵃᵗʰ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗʰᵉ ᴬⁿᵛᶦˡ, ᶠᵒʳ ᶦᵗ ᶦˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᴬⁿᵛᶦˡ ᵗʰᵃᵗ'ˡˡ ᵍᶦᵛᵉ ᵐᵉ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵇᵒᵒᵐᶦᵉˢᵗᵉᵉˡ >:ᴰ" A sorvian newt would speak to its brothers in defiance of the dwarven taxman.

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A mechanical menace hid with his stolen away friends, having saved them from the strange influences of the Anvil...but how long could they hide....

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my anvil god is real unlike dwarves

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"Barely settled into this underground Shantae town and  the infighting is already about to spark."

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I wanna hit the anvil. 

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Can you hear it, friends? 

The banging of metal?

The pounding of ore?

From whence does this sound create?

From the Depths?

From the Skies?

From the races of Men, Dwarf, Elf, Orc?

Nay, only from the Great Anvil (blessed be it's holy name) might such glorious sounds be heard.

-Common Anvilist Hymn, SA 129

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Once there was nothing...

Then there was the anvil...

Now it wishes us to be reforged

Folded into its metal

The anvil protects

The anvil guides

The anvil Loves


What the anvil is will be, and what the anvil will be, it is. 



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