<⤫⤬⤫⤬> Clan Gemeye <⤫⤬⤫⤬>

[Reece Nolan 996]

 

Spoiler

 

 

“Left for dead we were, consigned to damnation for the misdeeds of one. But this shan’t be our tomb, the abyss will know of Yemekar’s providence whether it cares to or not.”

     - Baleg ‘Guarded Garnet’ Gemeye

 

The term ‘stubborn’ is often used to describe Urguan’s Folk, fitting for a race so resilient as to bend the very earth to their whims. Though there are few clans with the fortitude to survive the death sentence, and even fewer to defy it twice. Born of the Underdark and sister to the Elder Clan Starbreaker, the Gemeyes stood among these few. Their story is long, a tragedy buried beneath history which told of a once-great people who refused to fade into the forgotten.

 

Formed of Starbreaker exiles and lost spelunkers, the Gemeyes were a matriarchy of highly skilled and pious artisans united under one name, among them were jewelers, alchemists and golemancers, all of whom sought to defy their rocky confines with a thriving civilization nestled in the very heart of darkness. Their sons and daughters paved the path forward with courage and might unparalleled, successfully claiming a slice of the Underdark for themselves. Wary of becoming chaos dwarves, they modeled their culture off the Urguan they never knew, supplanting foreign concepts such as the sun, the moon and the stars with the spectrum of light. The Gemeyes prospered for over two centuries before they were ultimately crushed by the Mori, cast into the abyss as nomadic survivors of a bygone era. Doomed they were, until the dwarves of Almaris unknowingly freed their kin from exile while unearthing ancient Gemeye texts. Over the course of the next nine decades, a single Gemeye sought to raise the ancient banner of his clan and usher in the next chapter of their history, what sits before you now is the recovered legacy of Clan Gemeye, da Kazamar Kresttrulliv

Gemeye culture can be traced to two distinct time-periods, life before-prosperity and life after-prosperity. Much of their identity is steeped in struggle, with scarce resources and light a precious commodity, early Gemeye culture almost exclusively revolved around survivalism and optimization. Though, as a consequence of their kin’s efforts, the newfound safety of Kaz’ad’Nerroth and the cultural explosion following the Prismatic Doctrine’s introduction mutated their way of life into a lavish caricature of what once was. 

 

Appearance

ᚨᚱᛞᛟᛚ ᚲᛖᛉᚾᛟᛚ'ᛗᚨᚱ

Possessing the muddled blood of Arbrek, it’s no surprise that the Gemeyes take after their Starbreaker ancestors. However, while the Gemeyes are a clan exclusively composed of Cave Dwarves, their extended stay in the Underdark has altered them for better and for worse. Most Gemeyes struggle to surpass the height of 4’3” and, moreover, are significantly less muscular than their ancestors. The Gemeyes themselves do not identify with Stoneblood and Ironblood, rather, there are three distinct bloodlines the majority of remaining Gemeyes originate from:

 

Baleg “Guarded Garnet” Gemeye

The kin of Baleg Gemeye are easily identifiable amongst the khazadmar, for they have inherited his dominant albino visage which refuses to be quelled by the genetics of others. Described as simultaneously appearing both old and young, those of the garnet lineage possess clay-like pallid skin and silvery hair from birth. They are unable to be born with eye colors other than various shades of red or purple.

 

Urgrim “Meticulous Malachite” Gemeye

The kin of Urgrim Gemeye resemble the Starbreakers more closely than any of the three bloodlines, said to be easily confused with a Stoneblood of the elder clan. Described as well-kempt and robust, those of the malachite lineage possess dark gray or ashy skin with black hair and excellent beard genetics. They are often born with amber eyes, though they have occasionally been born with green eyes.

 

Olga “Opulent Opal” Gemeye

The kin of Olga Gemeye appear visually distinct from the average cave dwarf, believed to have been the most changed by their extended stay in the underdark. Described as dazzling or divine, those of the opal lineage possess slate colored skin and onyx black hair. They are frequently born with heterochromia and are prone to every possible eye color, including those usually induced by albinism such as red or purple.

 

Sunlight Sensitivity

ᛋᛟᛚ-ᚲᚱᚢᛏ

Being descendants of Elder Clan Starbreaker, it was inevitable that the Gemeyes would inherit their lack of pigmentation, and by extension, their photosensitivity. Though, this sensitivity has since been exacerbated as a consequence of their exile rendering them unable to access sunlight whatsoever. With their recent release, the Gemeyes have found that short-term exposure to sunlight results in severe sunburn in just under an hour, with debilitating rashes and skin degradation in a matter of three hours. Most Gemeyes cannot bear to even observe the sun’s rays due their light sensitive eyes, and those of Baleg’s lineage suffer these symptoms to an even greater degree as a result of their albino nature. To combat these effects, full body coverings such as robes, tunics and caps are worn to prevent sunlight from touching their flesh and to shade their eyes.

 

Darkvision

ᛞᚺᚨᚱᚷᛁᚹᚨᛚ

Having endured multiple generations living in the underdark, the Gemeyes possess superior darkvision than that of their Starbreaker counterparts, capable of limited sight even in near pitch black circumstances. Though, their perception consists of washed out grays or blacks and objects may lose some of their finer details in such low light settings. The twinkle of their colorful eyes might also confuse predators into perceiving them as gemstones embedded in distant rocky outcroppings, or equally as likely, betray their location when attempting to hide from danger.

 

Clothes and Armaments

ᚲᛚᚨᛞ ᚾᚨᚱ ᛗᛖᛞᚱᚨᚲ

Contrary to their Starbreaker ancestors, Gemeyes never quite adopted the heavy armors and blunt weaponry their counterparts are known for. Even Baleg himself, renowned for his iconic silver breastplate, only wore a sort of munition armor layered over cloth. Such is the way of the Underdark, where mobility and reach dictated survival when faced with fast-striking, monstrous creatures. Thus, Gemeyes tended towards robes, tunics and half plates, contrasted by their choice of spears, glaives and pikes. During the era of Gemeye prosperity, armaments transitioned from mere tools and garb to personal effects. Plates were crafted with excruciating detail and encrusted with the gem of its owner, jewelry clung to the sleeves and hood of robes, and gems took the place of buckles and harnesses on tunics. Weaponry became more of a statement than a staple, trading the polearms of old for decorative daggers and ornamental warpicks. This further fueled the schism between modern Gemeyes and more survivalist kin whom believed anything which increased your odds was the right way, the latter of which being the majority to survive during Enn’os’Moroth.

 

Crystal Bouquets

ᚲᚱᛖᛋᛏ ᚹᛃᚱᛏᚠᚨᛃᚱ'ᛗᚨᚱ

It's an unusual but dazzling tradition that Gemeyes tend to present not flowers, but a solid crystal geode cut and carved to appear like a bouquet of flowers to lovers or at weddings. The most commonly referred example is a lump of amethyst carved to appear like roses with the calcite left whole and smoothed out to look like wrapping paper.

 

Mining Shanties

ᚦᚨᛋ'ᚷᛖᚱᛟᚾ ᛋóᚾᚷᚱ'ᛗᚨᚱ

An old tradition born during the construction of Kaz’ad’Nerroth, it became a fun pass time novelty to write and sing mining shanties with your brethren on expeditions, as well as an excellent way to honor the three patrons of the clan all at once. Over time some mining shanties evolved into religious hymns as well.

__________________________________________

 

Working Dwed

Heave-ho, stone upturned

All that glimmers shall be unearthed!

To and fro, picks will go

Shovel the rubble then lift and throw!

(CRACK!)

Sulfur and soot, smoggy air

Burns on your feet and dust in your hair!

Throbbing wrists and aching back

Strike the coal til’ your skin turns black!

(CRACK!)

I see endless webs and a thousand eyes,

Mycelial woods and deep toad cries.
I’ve passed gremlin camps and lurker lairs,

Abandoned shafts with creaky stairs.

(CRACK!)

I've braved the deep where nothing sleeps,

Crossed hot plains where magma seeps.

I see a long worn line of working dwed,

Quarrying stone to earn their bread!

(CRACK!)

Heave-ho, stone upturned

No gems shall go unearned!

To and fro, picks will go

Shovel the rubble then lift and throw!

(CRACK!)

Nickel and nodes, noxious fumes

Breathe too much and be sent to your tomb!

Bleeding nose and stifled lungs

Take another breath, there’s work to be done!

(CRACK!)

I see endless caves and a chasm wide,

Lapping waves and lulling whines.

I’ve passed mori traps and beetle dens,

Winding cracks without an end.

(CRACK!)

I’ve braved the dark where none dare embark,

Crossed damp plains where water scars.

I see a long worn line of working dwed,

Quarrying stone to earn their bread!

(CRACK!)

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Ode to the Guiding Light

Lost alone, no way home,

Abandoned in stone to be swallowed whole.

(Hear my words, son of the earth.)

Foreign man, ragged hand,

He grips your shoulder and whispers again.

(Avert your eyes or this neck I’ll slice.)

Dark blade, black knife,

Its obsidian edge threatens your life.

(Borrow my light, I’ll aid your plight.)

You nod, you pray,

You wish not to die this way.

(Walk now kin, my patience wears thin.)

A stumble, a step,

Your harrowing journey commenced.

(You know my face, you delve in my name.)

The lord of this land, his shadowed hand,

You march through his darkness in fear of the end.

(Your kin have not lost you, search for your band.)

You climb, you scale,

Unhindered by cliffs nor rock nor shale.

(Brave through damnation, you will prevail.)

A glint of light, their torches burn bright,

Your kin have not lost you, reach for their hand.

(Farewell, we part, til I bid ‘pon your spark.)

You turn to thank him, but are met with the dark.

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Amethyst Prayer

O’ Thrumm-’ur’-Derkalimin, Thrummaz eron da Mhornar,

Othok’koss aina’dwedki’az tiwaz nir othok’koss trumm-’ur’-mhornar,

Aina’thamar’az und ulro ut othok’koss raz orvul’os.

Aina’thamar’az zal olkodran oz azhron,

Da dharg yol-mer ljoss’os

Ulro othok hethra na nerak.

 

O’ Lord of Avarice, King of the Shade,

Your children sleep in your beard of shadows,

We keep by us your obsidian blade.

We have nothing to fear,

The darkness is clear

With you here and near.

__________________________________________

 

Clan Recipes

ᚲᚨᛉᚨᛗᚨᚱ ᚱᛃᚦᛃᚨ'ᚷᛖᚱᛟᚾ

The Gemeyes are a clan born of struggle and the necessity for survival, which lends itself greatly to the clan’s culture. Nowhere is this more blatantly obvious than in their cuisine, which has been formed largely from scarce and odd resources. These recipes are dear to the clan’s heart, held with sworn secrecy and bestowed only to those Tumbled.

• Recipes which contain lore material such as alchemy herbs should follow all redlines belonging to them.

 

An ancient guarded secret of the Gemeye Clan, Gem-Wine appears to be a scarlet, earthy and mineral infused wildberry wine. It is a rare drink exclusive to celebrations such as the Tumbling Ceremony or weddings, coveted for its flavor and richness.

Spoiler

• To prepare, separate wildberries from their leaves and remove the thorn at their base. Crush the wildberries in a stone basin, draining the liquids into sealable jars with added cave roots for the primary fermentation. After primary fermentation, wine is filtered multiple times through cheesecloth and the solids are pressed for their remaining juices before being discarded. The filtered and pressed liquids are combined into a terracotta pot with added red gemstones such as ruby, garnet, red beryl and spinel, where the wine will undergo secondary fermentation and aging thereafter.

 

The common drink of the Gemeye Clan, Miner's Spirit is a clear and purple liquor with the distinct aroma of ancient wood. It's a drink that goes down smoothly and leaves a burning trail in the throat, possessing the long lingering taste of Miner’s Helmet mushrooms with a faint hint of sweetness and caramelization.

Spoiler

• To prepare, thinly slice Miner’s Helmets and cave root, then grind into paste and add to hot water to create a mash. Add yeast, allowing the mash to ferment. After mash has fermented, distill by heating mash in a pot still, condensing the vapor into a clear liquor. Repeat until the mash is rendered dry and all liquor is extracted. Age in a mushroom bark barrel to bestow the purple color and faint sweetness Miner’s Spirit is known for.

 

An ancient recipe authored by Basra Gemeye and restored by the Grand Library, Miner’s Supper Soup is a murky blue, bone broth based soup with an extremely bitter taste. This soup is best known for its tendency to turn the tongue glow-in-the-dark green for up to an hour after consumption.

Spoiler

• To prepare, select a rock pot according to your tastes, add water and bring to a boil. While water boils, prepare Miner’s Helmets by removing skin from the stem and thinly slicing the head. Once the water reaches a rolling boil, add the mushrooms. After 15 minutes, or once the mushrooms are tender, remove the mushrooms and let them rest, they will be used for garnish later. While the water is still boiling, add some bone broth to the pot. Bone broth made from deep toad or hyfowl is preferred, but any bone will do. For added creaminess, dissolve some of your preferred moss paste into the boiling soup. Once it is at your preferred consistency, you may plate and serve.

 

An ancient recipe authored by Basra Gemeye and restored by the Grand Library, Deep Toad Tongue Steak is a chewy, mostly edible experience not recommended for impatient eaters or those with a weak jaw. It’s a meal notable for its exceptional saltiness and receptiveness to seasoning, the fibrous texture resulting in a near unparalleled crust.

Spoiler

• To prepare, chop off a medallion of your choice from the tongue and drain it of blood. Blanch your cut, put it into cold water and bring it to a boil. As soon as it reaches a boil, skim the scum and drain the water. This water may be used for your Miner’s Helmet farm. Once the meat has been blanched, sear it upon a salt block. If you are low on lard or oil, this method is great since salt blocks do not need to be oiled. Be careful to slowly heat the salt block since a rapid change in temperature may cause it to explode. Sear the toad tongue until golden brown. Seasoning can be added at any point during the cooking process.

 

An ancient recipe authored by Basra Gemeye and restored by the Grand Library, Blind Cave Fish Pickings are a delicacy among Clan Gemeye, favored for their firmness and often enjoyed fried with a spicy dipping cream of some kind.

Spoiler

• To prepare, take your fish fillets and simmer, not boil, for 5 to 10 minutes depending on size. Water or broth can be used for simmering. Once that’s done, remove the fish fillets and let them rest so that the meat can firm up. Once the fish is cooled, pick the meat off the bones along with the grain. Once the meat is picked you may fry it, or mince it to make fish cakes.

 

A travel food for long expeditions, Denatured Slime Film is less a meal and more a protein nutrient which never expires. It’s very well known amongst the clan as an unpleasant and unfortunately unforgettable experience for first time eaters.

Spoiler

• To prepare, you must first start by denaturing an acid slime prior to killing it, this is easily achieved by dousing it completely with water. Once dispatched, collect the slime and heat in a large pan. Do not stir. After roughly 7 minutes, the surface of the slime will appear leathery and begin to separate from the sticky outer membrane. Carefully peel the sticky film from the solidified slime and place in a sealable glass container. Carry with you on long trips and swallow without chewing when hungry, slime may stick to the back of your throat until it slides into the stomach.

 

One of the better kept secrets of Clan Gemeye, Opal Scrying Oil is a reagent of scrying concocted by Olga Gemeye as a means of yielding more visible patterns for divination. It is a curious substance, known for burning violet when lit and eliciting severe anxiety or hallucinations if its fumes are inhaled. If ingested, the body will reject it in the form of vomit, causing immense fatigue and nausea for up to an hour after consumption.

Spoiler

• To prepare, finely chop or grind dried Murkshroom, then add to a sealable jar and cover completely with a high proof alcohol such as everclear or a similar solvent. Seal jar and store in a dark location for 2-6 weeks, shaking daily. Strain liquid through a cheesecloth into a new container to remove Murkshroom solids, then boil the solids in water for 12 hours. Discard Murkshroom solids and combine water extracted oil with alcohol extracted oil. Finely crush muriate of potash, opal, and Sun Shard in mortar and pestle. Add the fine powder to your Murkshroom extract, mixing thoroughly and storing in a dark glass bottle away from light.

The Gemeyes believe in the core principles of the Brathmordakin as has been preserved in their tablets throughout the ages, though over their time spent trapped in the underground, they have developed unique associations, rituals and themes to their faith. These differences are collectively referred to as the Prismatic Doctrine.

 

Everything in the culture of this clan is in some way tied to the Prismatic Doctrine.

 

Precept of Prism

ᚨᚾᚨᚱᛏ'ᚲᚺᚱᚢᛗ-'ᚢᚱ'-ᚹᛟᛪᛏᚱ

It is believed among the Gemeye Clan that light and its sources are holy, each Brathmordakin being associated with such.

 

Yemekar: White Light, Light of the Forge
Anbella: Green Light, Light of the Hearth
Dungrimm: Moon Light, Light of the Soul
Armakak: Sun Light, Light of Fortune

Grimdugan: Light in Darkness, Light of Guidance

Belka: Red Light, Light of Celebration
Ogradhad: Candle Light, Light of Knowledge.

 

The Gemeyes, being Deep Dwarves, have eyesight better suited to life in underground caverns. However, their natural advantages could only help them so much in total darkness. With their limited resources in the Deeps Roads, materials to craft sources of light were incredibly scarce. Thus organically over time, reverence was developed towards sources of lights and they became associated with the Brathmordakin.

 

The main patron of the Gemeyes, Grimdugan, is most commonly known as the Brathmordakin of greed, mining, gemstones and darkness. The Gemeyes however, have a more nuanced view of this Brathmordakin, believing him to be the ‘Guide in Darkness,’ as documented by the personal experiences of the first Clan Father, Methysko Gemeye.

 

The Brathmordakin Belka, is the secondary patron of the Clan. The Gemeyes do not associate her with storms and weather, since such things have been seldom seen in the caverns. Instead, they focus on her aspects of beauty and revelry.

 

Traditionally, women of the clan take on nicknames and aesthetics relating to rubies, of which the colour red has been tied to Belka. Overtime, the association between beauty, the colour red and Belka grew in the clan. It is not clear if this trend was initially influenced by the already common beliefs surrounding Belka, or if the fashion senses of the Gemeye women simply reinforced this belief.

 

The tertiary patron of the clan is the almighty Yemekar. As per the scrolls of Da Kirkja Dverga, the Gemeyes believe that Yemekar was the first Brathmordakin who forged the world and created the other Brathmordakin.

 

Through rigorous scientific study of gemstones and prisms, they discovered that when white light is passed through a prism, it splits into a multitude of colours. After great internal debate about the meaning of this phenomenon, they determined that all the Brathmordakin are aspects, or possess some higher aspect from Yemekar himself, beyond being created by him. This also explains why light, in all its colours, is also important to the clan. This phenomenon is also what gives the Prismatic Doctrine its name.

 

Precept of Prophecy

ᚨᚾᚨᚱᛏ'ᚲᚺᚱᚢᛗ-'ᚢᚱ'-ᚲᚱᛟᚾᛟᛋ

When stuck in the deep dark caves, with nothing but mining rocks and killing cavern critters to keep your mind occupied, one may start hearing and seeing things that aren’t there and derive meaning from them.

 

The popularity of this precept once more came from the experiences of Methysko Gemeye, who was believed to have seen a single flickering light when staring into a pitch black chasm, and he saw the figure of Grimdugan holding the light. This coupled with the cultivation of shrooms, has resulted in the clan believing objects that exhibit pareidolia to be signs of omens. Following the clan’s name, imagery of eyes and seeing eyes in nature are signs that the Brathmordakin and the ancestors are watching them. However, if there is only one eye visible, it is a sign of Khorvad’s presence.

 

Deep echoes of whispers, unusual sounds, discovering new veins in abandoned mineshafts, and other signs are analyzed by the clan’s diviners. The most popular ritual of the clan is scrying and divination using crystal balls. These sorts of signs are recorded, in order to determine any patterns, which has led to the Gemeyes to be proficient in recordkeeping in the traditional dwarven language.

 

Precept of Purity

ᚨᚾᚨᚱᛏ'ᚲᚺᚱᚢᛗ-'ᚢᚱ'-ᚹᛖᛚᚢᚲᚱᚢᛗᛗ

With life always on the line in the lethal environments of the Deep Roads, the Gemeyes came to value the integrity and strength of their bodies. Following the belief that Yemekar created the dwarven race perfectly, the Gemeyes believe that the body is like a gemstone, it is made raw, beautiful and pure just as Yemekar intended. You are sent into the world to be tumbled by the happenstance of life into a more refined piece so that you are even more beautiful by the time you return to him in the Khaz’A’Dentrumm; that all of your hard edges are smoothed out by your legacy during your mortal life.

 

Thus, the scarring and maiming of a Gemeye is considered sacrilegious. If one becomes maimed while performing their duty, for example losing an arm, the arm would be collected and preserved for funerary rites and a replacement golemantic prosthetic would be installed.

 

The most severe injury one could receive is the loss of one eye, since having a single eye is usually associated with Khorvad. Thus two golem eyes are made, one to be used as a prosthetic and one to pair with the dismembered eye.

 

The Precept of Purity and the Precept of Prophecy are often intertwined, which can be seen in the clan’s tendency to venerate their ancestors. Ancestors who have accomplished great deeds and are ‘pure’ are often thought to be able to give prophecies or advice even from beyond the grave when scrying.

 

Despite all of the above, there tends to be conflict in the clan with the more survivalist individuals, who believe that survival should be ensured through any means necessary since life in the caverns is a constant battle. Thus it is usually up to elders and diviners to determine what is or isn’t acceptable or ‘pure’ on a case by case basis when it comes to difficult topics such as the use of magics that modify the soul.

During the refinement of the Prismatic Doctrine, Karvia’s sons and daughter put forth an addendum which outlined the spirit of their people. These tablets became the bedrock of their values, texts which delineated the principles of a Gemeye engraved permanently into solid gemstone. It is theorized that a fourth was carved, The Amethyst Tablet, but it has never been found or referenced in any capacity.

 

The Garnet Tablet

ᛞᚨ ᚲᚱᛟᚾ ᚨᚱᛞᛟᚦ'ᛟᛋ

As recorded on the Garnet Tablet of Baleg Gemeye, the practice of golemancy within Clan Gemeye is complex and abstract. The basis for every gem golem, or “Gler’Khoren”, is a concept, an expression of Belka’s beauty in all things and passion for creation. Thus, most Gemeye-made golems are created with form over function and bear striking features evocative of a particular idea their maker wished to express. The most prominently expressed concept within Clan Gemeye is from an addendum to the Prismatic Doctrine, the “Light of the Refracted Soul”. Ordinarily, one would be unable to view the core in its active state, but gemstone’s transparency allows for the unique opportunity to see the core’s coursing anima & mana as refracted light. It’s believed that this light is the most beautiful thing a person may witness in their lifetime, as Yemekar crafted the dwarven soul with absolute perfection; To observe the light of a core is to witness the craftsmanship of Yemekar himself in a way like no other, unparalleled and raw. It is for this reason that many gem golems feature heavy emphasis of the core on their body’s exterior, typically as a ring of sigils around their chest. These concepts partially extend to the creation of golemantic prosthetics, which will typically be made with the same aesthetic flare of their fully constructed counterparts, but are hewn of calcite or other rocky materials due to the limitations of golemancy’s advancement.

 

The Gemeyes do not shy away from the topic of soul golems, rather, they embrace it, believing that the form of a soul golem should reflect the true nature of the entrapped individual. For their enemies this often means a fate worse than death, the most infamous of which being when Baleg Gemeye and his silver legion captured a den of drow that had tormented the clan for decades. All were executed via soul core and placed into crude, brittle bodies of coal meant to reflect their ugly and unpleasant nature, and ordered to march themselves to death for their surviving kin to see. Similarly, kin preserved within golems may be crafted in their own likeness, or given a form which expresses the contents of their character in exaggerated fashion.

 

Gler’Khoren are the greatest testament to one’s skill as a golemancer, for they may only be carved once and without error. Every chisel placement, every strike of the hammer, every part of the process is made with careful consideration and conscious effort. Even the slightest crack is intolerable as gemstone cannot be repaired, unlike stone golems which may be mended with clays or putty. Their role within Gemeye society is that of the sacred protector, the guardian of a concept instilled by their creators, a living window of insight into the minds of brilliant craftsmen who wished to honor Belka through their creation. To defile such a guardian is to forfeit one’s life, for Gler’Khoren defend their maker’s passion with great intensity.

 

The Malachite Tablet

ᛞᚨ ᚲᚱᛟᚾ ᚷᚱᛟᛒ'ᛟᛋ

As recorded on the Malachite Tablet of Urgrim Gemeye, the practice of artisanry within Clan Gemeye is venerative and disciplined. To craft with respect to the Brathmordakin, one must be mindful of their resources and work with efficiency. Yemekar did create the world with finite material so that his children would not be wasteful, so that one's greed may be tempered by scarcity. All precious metals are considered sacred, for the Lord of Avarice does not depart with his riches on a whim, and neither should his acolytes. Thus, kin should pay heed to their ancestors' wisdom passed unto them from generations of toil and labor, lest they mock Grimdugan’s generosity with ruined or flawed projects.

 

However, no metal is more sacred to the Gemeyes than Azhl. To Urgrim, it was a dark and alluring stone which greatly punished the hubris of spelunkers, reminiscent of Grimdugan’s teachings of Dharg. A deceptively dangerous rock in its rawest form, Azhl was the lesson made manifest, that any who respected its fury would have it bestowed in the form of its maker’s choosing. Only by braving its danger were its treasured traits revealed, be it an edge so wicked it inflicted excruciating pain upon all life, or a surface so mesmerizing it transfixed any who glimpsed its hidden crimson beauty. Thus, it was named “Bokkvuur”, the Black Stone, declared the sacred metal of Grimdugan and coveted by Clan Gemeye ever after.

 

Also of great importance to the Gemeyes, jewelry. It acts as a profound signifier of one’s devotion to a Brathmordakin and their tenets. The fine details of metalwork allows for the expression of one’s faith through intricate shapes, whereas the variety of gemstones at a jewelers disposal offers a range of methods to venerate the gods through their corresponding colors of light as discussed in the Precept of Prism. This practice is taken further by way of Gemforging, the variant of Warforging which allows its user to impart alchemical transmogrifications unto gemstones. With it, Brathmordakin iconography is enhanced, and rubies may be blessed with bolt of Belka whereas emeralds might carry the flame of Anbella’s hearth betwixt a dwedlon’s bosom. Of note, Bokkvuur was once a highly desired metal for jewelry during the era of Gemeye prosperity. Pieces which utilized it had their edges aggressively smoothed, often resulting in round amulets or rings with emphasis on Azhl’s unique crimson veins.

 

The Opal Tablet

ᛞᚨ ᚲᚱᛟᚾ ᛒᛚᚨᚱ'ᛟᛋ

As recorded on the Opal Tablet of Olga Gemeye, the practice of scrying within Clan Gemeye is faithful and open-minded. One must cast their prejudice aside when approaching the topic, as disbelief can cloud the window that peers into fate’s pond. It is understood that the mundane world entertains a specific randomness colloquially known as luck, though with more careful observation patterns may begin to emerge. These patterns are what the Gemeyes refer to as “Uthr’mar”, ripples generated as a Brathmordakin’s presence displaces the waters of fate. Ordinarily these patterns would be obscured as ambiguous nonsense, being much too noisy to discern meaning from happenstance, but by cultivating a sensitive point in space where Uthr’mar may layer over each other one may achieve a level of consistency from which fate may be read.

 

For the Gemeyes, scrying is the preferred method of divination. Early scribes had discovered crystal’s tendency to split light and distort images, and their rigorous study of prisms would later inform the refinement of the Prismatic Doctrine, but among their findings was the crystal ball and its myriad of strange interactions with light. Olga, curious as always, spent many decades studying their properties, concluding that crystal balls were the perfect vehicle for producing Uthr’mar in a controlled environment with the aid of an oil slick. This marriage of science and theology inspired the standard method of scrying within Clan Gemeye, a process which read the oil patterns over an image to ascertain the fate of the scryer. Though this method usually employs the clear quartz crystal ball coupled with opal scrying oil, the potential for other variations of scrying remains a widely unexplored topic.

 

 

Spoiler

To perform scrying in-game, you must soak your clear quartz crystal ball in water, then place it ensuring you can see yourself, the person or the object you are focusing on within the ball. To begin, dim the room and apply opal scrying oil over the wet crystal ball, agitating the oil with your hands, this can be done by rubbing it over the ball briefly and thoroughly. Once the oil settles it will form a pattern-rich rainbow slick over the surface of the orb, ponder it until you are able to discern one of the eight possible patterns, determined by rolling a D8. After you’ve identified the pattern, relax your eyes, look beyond the oil and through the orb at the person or object in your focus. The image will take one of three forms, determined by a D3. If the image is clear (1), the pattern you observed prior will retain its original meaning. If the image is flipped upside down (2), the pattern you observed prior will have its meaning inverted. If the image is stretched or warped (3), the pattern you observed prior will have its meaning distorted. You may interpret how the result applies to the topic at hand and re-agitate the oil for every new inquiry. The potency of patterns stack with every repeated result, heightening their importance. Three of the same pattern and image in a row heavily implies the presence of a Brathmordakin in the room, perhaps directly answering your inquiries.

 

Redlines (SquakHawk please don't hurt me.)

• This is not magic, the practice of scrying may not be used for metagaming or obtaining OOC information. For all intents and purposes, scrying is purely interpretive speculation of RNG mechanics similar to flipping a coin or rolling dice.
• Scrying cannot be used to communicate with any canon/non-canon deities, spirits, ghosts or entities of any kind, though nothing is stopping you from (falsely) claiming so.
• Scrying does not produce any supernatural effects, and has no unique properties in any of its components aside from items which use alchemical ingredients, in which case you should follow the appropriate redlines for said ingredients.
• Scrying does not have any interactions between existing accepted or shelved magics unless the interaction is directly with its natural components (such as Gemforging the crystal ball for example).
• You can create new variations of scrying by utilizing different crystals and oils, or even creating new systems altogether such as interpreting constellations within a Starforged crystal ball for example, so long as it adheres to existing redlines.

 

I. Streaks

Streaks are the mark of creation, the tooling marks of the maker, evocative of Yemekar’s long completed works. It bears the pattern of his hammer and chisel, a yearning to make anew. It is the urge to lead, fated to forge the path forward.

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The inversion of creation is destruction, it is more than ruin, it is utter devastation or outright annihilation, often evocative of the void and other such heralds of chaos.

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The distortion of creation is form, it is the ideal design of everything and everyone, from the raw beauty of the dwarven soul to the untouched chasms of the deep, it is all that one should strive to be and everything one should strive to preserve.

 

II. Single Swirl

The single swirl is the mark of ambition, evocative of Khorvad’s single eyed sigil. It bears an entropic pattern of destructive ambition, forever pursuing but never ending. It is the death spiral, fated never to reach the center.

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The inversion of ambition is humility, it is the recognition of one’s limits and imperfections, the immovable object to Khorvad’s unstoppable force.

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The distortion of ambition is determination, it is the resolve to persevere through the shortcomings of one’s ambition, it is the will to achieve when desire alone is not enough.

 

III. Waves

Waves are the mark of life, evocative of Anbella’s sprawling mountains and endless valleys. It bears a gentle pattern, one of bonds unburdened by the highs and lows of life. It is the shape of home, fated evermore to kindle kinship.

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The inversion of life is death, it is the loss of a friend or family member, it is the abandonment of tradition, the hearth cold and absent of its fire.

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The distortion of life is nature, it is the life beyond that of the descendants, the fungi and critters that roam the warped forests of the abyss, who demand honor in their harvesting and are not to be harmed needlessly.

 

IV. Speckles

Speckles are the mark of greed, evocative of Grimdugan’s ever covetous treasures. It bears a scattered pattern of unquenchable desire, comparing one spot to the next. It is the whisper of the dark, fated to forever allure.

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The inversion of greed is temperance, it is the practice of self-restraint, it is moderation in the presence of dark temptation.

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The distortion of greed is wealth, it is the value of treasure and the many forms that it takes. It is the importance of relics and the influence of land for which your kin may inherit and prosper from.

 

V. Splotch

The splotch is the mark of prosperity, evocative of Armakak’s golden coin. It bears a bold pattern remembered through the spirit of trade, a warmth felt only in nostalgic memories. It is the gift of value, fated to drive travel and inspire commerce.

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The inversion of prosperity is ruin, it is the rot in one’s foundations, it is the withering before destruction and the decay long after it.

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The distortion of prosperity is industry, it is the vast social network which forms the ever flexible backbone of hard work. It is the roar of the forge and the chatter of trade where progress is loudest and all shall gain.

 

VI. Multi-Swirls

Multi-swirls are the mark of passion, evocative of Belka’s rolling seas and swirling storms. It bears a striking pattern known only in romantic tales of yore. It is the ebb and flow of the heart, fated to churn endlessly in introspective waters.

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The inversion of passion is apathy, it is the uncaring silence, it is the stillness of water, the sea absent of its current.

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The distortion of passion is love, it is the admiration which drives the soul to fearless depths and soaring heights, the tenderness for which many live and die for.

 

VII. Turbulence

Turbulence is the mark of knowledge, evocative of Ogradhad’s runic texts. It bears a flowing pattern of unending curiosity, billowing out in search of greater wisdom. It is the still unfolding story, fated to see it through to the end.

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The inversion of knowledge is ignorance, it is blissful absent-mindedness, it is the closing of the book, a willful distraction from the story’s end.

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The distortion of knowledge is scholarship, it is a life worth remembering, one of grand halls filled pillar to pillar with knowledge that has been fully digested, inlaid into the very wrinkles of one’s brain like a fine aurum leaf.

 

VIII. Wrinkles

Wrinkles are the mark of death, evocative of Dungrimm’s worn mask. It bears a desolate pattern of calming waters, the final moments before stagnation. It is the signs of age, fated eventually to end all things.

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The inversion of death is life, it is the sprouting tree from the ashes of a fire, it is the birth of a child, it is renewal in the face of overwhelming odds.

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The distortion of death is justice, it is the weight of every deed and misdeed, the consequence for every action. It is the heart’s integrity weighed against the moon.

 

 

Alchemy

ᚷᚨᚢᛚᛞ

Clan Gemeye covets the practice of Alchemy greatly so, as its presence has been a boon to their kind since the earliest days of their empire. First introduced by the Ancient Amethyst, alchemy bled into several aspects of Gemeye culture, appearing in their food, in their brewing and even in scrying. It was not until the refinement of the Prismatic Doctrine, that Alchemy was finally assigned meaning by the Gemeyes. They were fascinated by the Material Alphabet’s transcendence of language, believing that signs and symbols must be the origin tongue; A universal language understood by all innately, first written by Yemekar when crafting the world and later adopted by the Brathmordakin pantheon as their native tongue. The Gemeyes believe that Ogradhad bestowed upon them a lesser variant of the gods’ language, the runic alphabet which later became the dwarvish language.

 

Gemeye Burial Rites

ᚲᚱᛖᛋᛏᛏᚱᚢᛚᛚᛁᚹ ᚲᚱᚨᚹᛁᛁᛚ ᚨᚲᛃᚦ'ᛗᚨᚱ

Following the Precept of Purity, to prevent the dead from becoming flawed and to ensure a safe passage to Khaz’a’Dentrumm, the gemeyes cremate their kin upon death and turn the ash into a gemstone. In traditional Grimdugan follower fashion, their kin’s valuables and hoard are gathered and stacked neatly in their tomb with the gem placed atop. Stealing from a tomb goes directly against the core teachings of Grimdugan, such an act is punishable with a grudge and execution.

The trials are a sacred tradition which transcends all dwarven clans, they are often a rite of passage for beardlings, a quest meant to raise kin proper in the ways of their own. For the Gemeyes, the trials are a matter of heritage, designed to immerse their youth in the environment and practices of their ancestors. Held among the highest of truths is the notion that, it is only with experience that a khazad may truly appreciate their potential in a way that matters.

 

Trial of Understanding

ᚨᚾᚨᚲᚱᚢᚾ-’ᚢᚱ’-ᛃᚨᚱ'ᚹíᛋ’ᚷᛖᚱᛟᚾ

The Trial of Understanding is the first and most crucial step for any beardling, it tasks them with finding and studying their birth gem in great detail, using libraries or any other available materials to supplement their understanding of the stone which defines them. They must identify what the gemstone represents, its meaning and place within the world, and armed with this knowledge they are to craft a ring using their birth gem and inscribe the stone’s purpose into its underside in the dwarvish tongue. 

 

Spoiler

• Completing this trial requires that the player roleplay venturing out into the world to harvest and research their character’s gemstone. They must supplement their roleplay using Google and real world information to learn both fact and fiction about the gemstone, which they may apply to their in-game roleplay and findings. Once properly informed, they must craft a ring using their gemstone and inscribe a maximum of one sentence which explains what the gemstone means to their character, written in dwarvish.

 

Trial of Illumination

ᚨᚾᚨᚲᚱᚢᚾ-’ᚢᚱ’-ᚹᛖᚲᚨᚨᚾ

The Trial of Illumination tasks the beardling with learning of the Brathmordakin and Prismatic Doctrine first and foremost. Then, they must craft an oil lamp influenced by the faith. Once crafted, the beardling is to take their lamp to a Tumbled Gemeye who may initiate the second half of their trial. The beardling will be brought to the deep roads or underdark, their lamp is to be filled with opal scrying oil and lit before being sent into the darkness with the sole task of surviving until the violet flame burns out. The fumes produced by the violet flame illuminates the beardling’s senses, heightening them and allowing them to experience the dark as it truly is; To comprehend the meaning of danger and grow their appreciation for the gift of light. It may be difficult for the beardling to discern between the dark’s true nature and reality while under the effects of the violet flame, rendering them prone to severe anxiety and paranoia. The lamp is for the beardling to keep as their own personal light source after the trial is completed.

 

Spoiler

• Completing this trial requires that the player learn about the Brathmordakin and Prismatic doctrine via the forums, other players, and in-game books. They then must craft an oil lamp using what they have read as inspiration for either their crafting rp or the item’s description. Once they’ve created their lamp, they must seek out any clan member who has completed their trials. This clan member will oversee their trial and attest to its completion, filling the beardling’s lamp with opal scrying oil before sending them into the deep roads, underdark or the closest approximation to either place on the given map. Opal scrying oil produces a violet flame due to the heavy presence of potassium chloride in the oil, the fumes produce low level hallucinogenic effects and sensory overload as a consequence of the oil having been extracted from Murkshroom and the presence of Sun Shard. The player overseeing the trial will assume the role of emoting the beardling’s surroundings with specific attention paid towards lurking creatures in the distance, hazards becoming much more noticeable, signs of pareidolia and instilling a general feeling of unease and fear. It is up to the discretion of the overseer whether or not the beardling is actually attacked by a real creature/realistic hallucination and forced to fight/run or if they remain simply stalked throughout the experience. The trial ends once the oil in the lamp has burned up, so basically as long as the overseer and beardling want to continue for, but a minimum of 5 emotes from both parties is preferred.

 

Trial of Veneration

ᚨᚾᚨᚲᚱᚢᚾ-’ᚢᚱ’-ᚨᚲᛃᚦ

The Trial of Veneration is a test of the beardling’s patience and aptitude, tasking them with carving an idol or statue of either a Gemeye ancestor, a dwarven paragon or one of the Brathmordakin. Their task will be done under the supervision of an Elder or the Clan Father/Mother but without help or guidance. They will be watched to gauge the quality of their craftsmanship, determining whether or not they pass their trial once their product is completed.

 

Spoiler

• Completing this trial requires that the player pick a Gemeye ancestor, Dwarven Paragon or one of the Brathmordakin to research, then under the supervision of the clan father/mother or an elder they must do crafting rp, carving an idol or statue of their chosen individual using what they have learned about them. The clan father or elder witnessing the trial is not allowed to help the player as it is a skill check, to ensure quality crafting roleplay is produced. The spectator determines whether or not the player passes their last trial upon completion of rp.

 

Tumbling Ceremony

ᚢᛗᚢᚱ’ᚢᚱᛟᛉ ᚠᛃᛚᚷï

The completion of one’s trials is a momentous occasion, one which asserts that a beardling has mastered the virtues of consideration, bravery, and patience. What follows is the Tumbling Ceremony, a solemn rite reserved only for such occasions. The ceremony is initiated by lowering the khazad into a bath filled with coarse stones and water, where they are presented a chalice of Gem-Wine to ward their tongue of Khorvadic babble. Then, the beardling is to take the Grinding Oath with the guidance of their kin, as they are repeatedly dunked in the bath to be tumbled anew.

 

Umur’uroz Baraz | An oath taken during the Tumbling Ceremony, the Grinding Oath is a holy incantation which binds a khazad in body and spirit to the services of Grimdugan. It is sworn between gasps for air, perilous in nature and traumatizing to many.

 

Umur’uroz Baraz

ᚢᛗᚢᚱ’ᚢᚱᛟᛉ ᛒᚨᚱᚨᛉ

 

O’ Thrumm-’ur’-Derkalimin, Thrummaz eron da Mhornar,

(O’ Lord of Avarice, King of the Shade)

 

Aina’k’az ekorok vo’thakav oz othok’koss dharg,

(I surrender myself to your darkness)

 

Dag aina’k’az sar talok othok’koss raz,

(That I may wield your blade)

 

Dag aina’k’az sar voxtr da uloon,

(That I may shape the night)

 

Dag aina’k’az sar iraal othok’koss mhornar,

(That I may don your cloak)

 

Yno’k’az va-mer umur deb’os,

(I am tumbled new)

 

Nir eklaan eron othok.

(In service of you)

 

The khazad is then pulled from their bath, a beardling no more. Tumbled they are, consecrated in service of the Nightbearer. They are bestowed a title, typically in the form of an alliteration which combines their birth gem and a defining quality of the kin’s character, such as ‘Bashful Beryl’ or ‘Emphatic Emerald’. The title is of high regard among Clan Gemeye, its besmirchment warranting a grudge by itself; These titles are bestowed not for the mere accomplishment of feats but as a secondary name, as a Tumbled Gemeye you are reborn a zealot of Grimdugan bearing the true name of your gemstone. To aid your holy quest, you are afforded the opportunity to learn golemancy, alchemy, clan recipes, and any other resource available.

The tragedy of Clan Gemeye is long, a history unknown to those who dwell ‘pon the surface, a legacy enriched with the lessons of grief, love, and perseverance. Their tale starts with the daughter of Arbrek Starbreaker, who mothered a son so foolish as to fuel himself with ambition o’er greed, opening himself to the Betrayer’s manipulation in doing so. Should you read their story, I beg thee to heed my warning. Khorvad is the Brathmordakin of Power, his hunger for control is insatiable and his reach is far beyond that of those afflicted with tagum. He is the antithesis to Yemekar’s creation, bent on destroying it in favor of his own creation for which he would hold absolute power over. His influence is everywhere, like corrosive miasma seeping through the cracks in one’s foundation, he is the sudden and foreign doubt which invades your mind, the inexplicable urge to kill, and the whisper encouraging you to jump.

 

Chapter I: Entropy

Spoiler

Far back on the ancient and revered family tree of Elder Clan Starbreaker, Karvia Arbreksdóttir would set in motion a series of misfortunes that would forever define herself and her kin. The tragedy of Clan Gemeye starts with the birth of her son, Methysko. He was an ambitious lad, not fueled by greed but by determination and to achieve whatever grand project he put his mind to. Nothing captured his dedication more than masonry, through which he felt the closest to Yemekar. Methysko sought to conquer the wilds with bridges and roads that would carve an eternal path for dwarven kind. Even as a beardling, Methysko was a sculpting prodigy, having completed an arched stone bridge over a deep ravine by his lonesome, by the age of forty. In recognition of his talents, his mother Karvia taught Methysko the sacred art of Golemancy. He later proved himself a worthy heir to the art by carving mighty colossi which bore the faces of the Brathmordakin pantheon. Though for all his ambitions, Methysko’s soul grew weary from constantly trying to surpass himself, thus his spirit eroded by his lust for labor. He longed for quieter days where he could be content with his own achievements.

 

Nearing the end of his youth, Methysko met a soft spoken lass named Hjelga. They were a match written in the stars, her patience perfectly complimenting his passion and her tenderness was the relief to his aching wrists. Soon after their marriage, she was with child, and Methysko felt weight behind his actions, which spurred him to take up his tools once more. He erected a cliffside tower, overlooking the frigid sea as he poured himself into his craft to carve out a bright future. In a grim turn of fate, the light in his heart was snuffed out just as suddenly as it had been re-ignited. Hjelga gave birth to their daughter, though she would not survive to meet them. In the throes of grief, he laid Hjelga to rest in a granite sarcophagus atop their tower, her visage carved into the lid. He named their daughter Indra, after the torrential downpour which followed her mother’s passing. 

 

In further despair, Indra grew weaker with each passing year till the age of ten when she was bedridden with skin cold as stone. Methysko clung to Indra, tending to her as the living lasting memory of his late wife. He refused to take their years for granted, cherishing each and every day he had with Indra. Methysko learned alchemy in a desperate bid for a tincture that could spare his daughter, though none worked, and Indra’s ailment dramatically worsened with time as shale-like calcifications ravaged her skin. He pleaded day and night with the Brathmordakin to spare her life. In his darkest hour, the faintest voice responded, gnawing at the edges of his mind when he was most vulnerable. Whispers of Khorvad the Betrayer, tugged at the dormant strings of ambition deep within Methysko’s soul, promising salvation to his suffering. On the verge of going tagum, he listened, leading him to commit the greatest atrocity possible.

 

Chapter II: Consternation

Spoiler

Methysko slayed his daughter, binding her soul to a golem core. He inserted Indra’s core into an amethyst body cut similar in size to her own, eager to see his daughter healthy and happy again, though the result was far from what Methysko intended. Indra was unable to overpower the Impera loyalty inherent to soulbinding, and her psyche was damaged beyond repair as a consequence of her new hellish existence. The others soon learned of Methysko’s sin and dragged him from his tower by the beard, beating him within an inch of his life before throwing him into a damp cell. He was declared to be a Khorvadite consumed by madness, thus sentenced to death by hammer and anvil for the crimes of kinslaying, murdering a beardling, and soulbinding a khazad. Weeks passed as arguments ensued over how to handle Indra, whether to crush her core or preserve her soul. On the day of his execution, Methysko was pulled from his cell, starving and cold. He was forced to his knees and his chin pressed against the anvil as he was read his final prayers. Though before the hammer could fall, his mother intervened.

 

Karvia interrupted the execution, pleading that Methysko’s life be spared. She claimed responsibility for her son’s actions, as she was the one who taught him Golemancy and ultimately enabled his atrocities. Horrific actions that she also defended, citing the catastrophic circumstances of Methysko’s life as evidence that his judgement had been broken. She knew  the pain Methysko felt as a parent, to attempt to save one’s child, and she stood defiantly against the courts to save her own. After much deliberation, it was decided that Karvia and all her kin, present and future, would never see the light of sun again; Methysko would be spared in exchange for their collective banishment to the deep roads.

 

Chapter III: Retribution

Spoiler

Karvia, Methysko and Indra, stood before a massive dwarven door which separated the surface from the underdark. The door to the once great stronghold was opened, revealing the bottomless maw of the abyss. The three of them were pushed across the threshold from light to dark, to be swallowed whole by the earth. As the door sealed behind the three, they advanced in silence with only the dim light of Indra’s core to guide them, stalked by creeping horrors as they descended further into the bowels of hell.

 

It was a godless place, far from the reaches of the Brathmordakin where the light of Armakak’s Coin could not reach them, where the Khaz’a’dentrumm would never loom, storms could never swell and no fawn would graze. It was the domain of Khorvad, where ambitions lay shrouded in darkness among twisted, alien creatures. Karvia and Methysko witnessed these abyssal monstrosities which roamed the underdark. The “Melkanahi” behemoths stood tall with necks that reached hundreds of feet through into the air to scrape the stalactites clean of easy pickings as their eyes darted around manically. Giant arachnids wove trap doors of stone to ****** unsuspecting prey that attempted to traverse this hellscape. Even the damp fungus beneath their boots grasped at the soles trying to hold them still. Though they pressed on, traversing the caverns with scant resources and limited light, scavenged from anything bioluminescent or burnable.

 

Chapter IV: Lament

Spoiler

Time was a luxury lost to Karvia and Methysko, resting not by the cycle of sun and moon, but by the demands of their bodies though often being unable to sleep anyway from fear of the twisted horrors towering over them. As they delved deeper into the underdark, cold stone gave way to spongy terraces and giant mushrooms. Karvia, Methysko and Indra found themselves in a forest bathed with the pink glow of bioluminescence, abundant with water and home to a myriad of smaller fungal critters. It was a haven tucked away from the wails of death.

 

With their newfound safety, the trio established a more permanent camp within the fungal forest. Karvia and Methysko rarely spoke, the latter spending the majority of his time away from his mother as guilt weighed heavy on his heart. In his absence, Karvia tearfully decommissioned Indra, to spare her fractured mind from further suffering. She spent her months alone, praying and weeping, though she could not bring herself to hate her son. She held forgiveness within her and an empty chair at her table, always cooking a second meal for Methysko, in hopes that he would one day return. Methysko stood on the precipice of death, with the notion that the very idea of his survival was selfish; He refused to eat and seldom quenched his thirst, accepting starvation and isolation as his penance. His guilt was unrelenting, disproportionately so, and in his lament he deprived himself of hope and Karvia of her son. The assault on his psyche was maddening, his own inner dialogue tormenting him with thoughts of “what if?” and sharp jabs at his adopted insecurities. Methysko spent his time  staring aimlessly into the abyssal plains, whispering half truths and lies to himself as he sat carelessly perched over the edge of a cliff. Until one wake, Methysko glimpsed a flickering light in the darkness beyond the warped forest’s edge. Narrowing his gaze, he saw the face of a shadowed dwarf staring back.

 

Chapter V: Solace

Spoiler

The discovery of other dwarves trapped underground was most unexpected, a small band of four spelunkers no less. Karvia’s campfire drew them in, and she was elated to host them with what meager offerings she had. But Methysko was skeptical, these dwarves looked nothing like the one he saw out in the abyssal plains, they were battered and shaken, not the lurking type, and none carried candles. Dravul, Grimni, Oswald and Bryn each introduced themselves, explaining that they were hopelessly lost underground on an expedition gone wrong. Their harrowing recount conveyed that there was no escaping the underdark, attempting to ascend to the surface proved far more lethal than traveling deeper. Fanged beasts and arachnoid chimeras patrolled the reaches of the underdark for fresh prey from the outside world, creating an insurmountable natural barrier that could not be broken without militaristic intervention. With no chance of return, the spelunkers made themselves at home with the exiles, hoping to recuperate and bide their time. The new supplies and extra hands proved useful for quarrying stone and crafting tools, and with their presence, the humble camp grew to a small village.

 

Karvia shared embellished stories of their time above, wrapped in a nostalgic haze as she exchanged memories with the spelunkers. They returned anecdotes in kind, telling of previous expeditions and fond memories of the mountain dew welcoming their return from the underground. Their infectious laughter and enthusiasm oozed throughout the warped forest, deeply paining Methysko’s heart with sharp reminders of what could have been. Torn between longing and suffering, Methysko resolved to leave behind the safety of the mycelial woods for the desolation of the abyssal plains, remaining reclusive to redemption.

 

Chapter VI: Repentance

Spoiler

The abyssal plains were a place that only took and never returned, a godless valley where darkness and beasts dictated the laws of nature, discordant in every possible way. Methysko trudged through the pitch black, guided only by the sense of touch or an occasional twinkle of glimmerstone. Lurking spiders paid no heed to his starved body, for he was a morsel, a dead man muttering to himself insecurities and sick things. “You are their curse.” He lied, “Your hands which create, lay unsound mortar.” He believed. The grip of the Betrayer around his heart was tight, his atria strangled by the very threads of ambition which he sought to use for good. The road to Vuur’Dor was paved with good intentions and misplaced ambitions, both of which Methysko had both in abundance. He collapsed before a spire, his body exhausted and starving, unwilling to carry the sins on his neck even an inch further. He closed his eyes, hearing the familiar voice which once answered his desperate prayers. “You will perish here, far from those you loved, abandoned like your structures.” It spoke between his ears, “Crumbled to dust, cherished only once and never again.” It whispered, drowning his mind in blackened ichor, “Spare them of your withering touch.” It commanded Methysko’s slowing heart, “Sleep.”

 

But, he awoke unclaimed.

 

Khorvad’s attempt to crush Methysko’s heart burned the fallen Brathmordakin’s hand, a single ember of hope still kindled within. Methysko may have given up on himself, but he never did give up on those he loved dearest; The smallest spark which refused to fade, lit in promise to Hjelga and kept aflame for Indra, was the antidote to his annihilation. He rose to his feet, weak, but alive. The profound truth of the Maker was within his mind at last, instilled in place of the Betrayer’s. “A thing is not beautiful because it lasts,” The Forgefather rebuked, “To be cherished once is more than enough, befitting for a creation which was made to live.” And Methysko understood, softly weeping as he felt Yemekar’s love for his creation. Decades of corruption, pain and deceit sewn in by the Betrayer were removed from his spirit, light was shone on his festered wounds, and he finally understood that his shortcomings did not make him any less worthy of life. When he composed himself, he fashioned a chisel from his knife, and began carving the spire he had slept against. Through many wakes and rests he labored, unhindered by those stalking in shadow, until the spire was rendered a monument to Yemekar. Methysko looked upon his work, ushering in the Forgefather’s radiance unto the godless realm with a great pillar crowned by his anvil.

 

Chapter VII: Atonement

Spoiler

Methysko’s return was euphoric, his ashen skin blessed by the pink glow of safety for the first time in what felt like months. He tasted the mold in the air, and he felt his senses stimulated once again. He could see, he could eat, and he could drink plentily of the stream where he glimpsed his reflection in its trickling waters. His beard was matted and graying, “Has it already been centuries down here?” he thought, touching the streaks of silver running from his chin. Time still remained a paradise lost, every wake ran into the next as did their years. He ventured to the quiet village where he knocked softly upon his mother’s door, cracking it open with a squeak. He found Karvia fast asleep within her abode, and on her table sat a second bowl of gruel at an empty chair. He took the seat and let out a heavy sigh, looking longingly at his mother as she rested, rehearsing in his mind all manner of explanations for when she woke.

 

“Who are you?” Whispered a quiet voice from the doorway.

 

Methysko turned, seeing the silhouette of a beardling obfuscated by the outside light. “I’m…” He paused, words paining his throat from lack of use. “...Methysko.” The beardling gently closed the door, bringing a finger to his lips to shush him. “Beka is sleeping, use your inside voice.” Methysko’s eyes widened as he studied the child, “Beka?...” He questioned. The beardling was pale, his skin like clay with cracks and wrinkles yet simultaneously youthful. His hair was silver and billowed like clouds of smoke, and his eyes were deep red like that of garnet. “Aye, she’s my mum.” He piped up, “She always said I had an older brother, but she never told me he was going deaf.” Methysko glared, “You’ll have to forgive me, it’s not everyday you see a dwed that Yemekar forgot to finish coloring.” The beardling frowned, waddling to the table and climbing into the chair opposite Methysko. “I’m Baleg.” He introduced himself, resting his head in his arms as he studied Methysko back. The two sat in silence briefly, Methysko discreetly helping himself to a spoonful of cold gruel. “She made you that bowl before every rest, you know?” Baleg mumbled. Methysko stared back, nodding quietly after a long pause. “Even when we were hungry, she refused to let anyone eat yours because she swore you would come home.” Methysko shrunk in his chair, feeling meek as a familiar guilt crept over his shoulders. “Methysko?...” Karvia cried, having been roused by their conversation. She saw him, her boy, starved and disheveled, she saw his pained purple eyes drained of their life. Karvia nearly tumbled out of her bed to pull him by the shoulders into a firm embrace. “...My amethyst, is it really you?...” She wept, pleading to the Brathmordakin under her breath. “It’s me…” Methysko confirmed with a crack in his voice. “...I’m so sorry.”

 

Chapter VIII: Ethos

Spoiler

The reunion of Karvia and Methysko marked the end of an era, one characterized by enduring love, needless suffering and theological unrest. It had been two centuries since their exile, with nine years more spent in penance by Methysko, during which time Karvia had remarried to Grimni, birthed Baleg and conceived another. On that fateful day, Baleg Grimnisson learned the breadth of his mother and brother’s misery, a painful legacy entrenched in the shadow of traditions which were held atop the highest pedestal. He listened to their entire story from beginning to end, then without a single word, stood up and left.

 

Baleg made his way to the edge of town, through the warped forest and looked far beyond the cliffs into the ceaseless void. He paused, weighing the consequences of what he was about to do, recalling everything that had led up to this point. In his eight years of life, Baleg had mostly known fear and hunger, agents of oppression whose master had no name. He did not understand why life was so cruel, that he could be born into a world where suffering occupied one third of his experiences, filling the gaps between the few happy moments and sleep. In a single wake, he learned not only the name and colors of his oppressors, but how miniscule his worries were compared to that of his relatives. He was crushed by the reality that his world came with a roof and walls, and with the entire weight of his people’s oppression held within his youthful heart, he screamed out into the abyss. “What have we suffered for?!” His rageful words echoed far beyond the veil of death to Methysko’s lonely monument, “Your most loyal family has abandoned its own, left us for dead in your name!!” Though no matter how much he wailed, he was met with silence. “I defy my blood, that I shall cherish my own to the very end!” He roared, decrying Elder Clan Starbreaker as he stripped himself of their name then and there.

 

He felt a hand come to rest on his shoulder, comforting him in his anguish. “What is lost, can always be found.” Methysko stated, taking a seat beside Baleg. “Grimdugan teaches us that the most valuable treasures are found in the deepest, darkest, most dangerous of depths.” He continued, “I believe this applies to one’s faith as well; Sometimes one must lose their way to return richer in character.” Baleg sniffled, processing his big brother’s affirmation. His welling tears dried as his anger crystallized into resolve, “I want- I will, change this place. This will not be our tomb.”

 

Chapter IX: Conquest

Spoiler

Baleg Grimnisson became a martyr at just the age of eight, making the impossible decision to sacrifice his own youth for the future of his people. He deprived himself of all childhood pleasures, spending every waking moment studying the old ways under Methysko’s careful guidance. Within a year, Baleg had already constructed his first golem, at the same time that his younger brother Urgrim was welcomed into the world. He was keenly aware that his undeveloped body was holding him back, thus he committed the sparse remainder of his time to a strict regimen that would propel his still growing body to the top of its health. By all accounts, Baleg was considered a peak specimen among his peers, with a mind as sharp as an arachnid’s fang and a physique as durable as a golem in his early teens. The walls of the underdark, once the confines of his world, became quarries for an army of stone set to conquer the unconquerable.

Clad in glistering silver plate, Baleg initiated a half century-long assault on the underdark in an attempt to tame the abyssal plains. Ranks of his army would cycle between patrols and construction, aiding him in erecting an enormous floor-to-ceiling fortress whose high ramparts and undying sentries would provide sanctuary within the heart of the godless realm. This fortress was dubbed “Kaz’ad’Nerroth”, the bastion defiant of the dark, a monument to Baleg’s overwhelming willpower and commitment to save all who were lost. It was here, within its cold and marbled halls, that the exiles and spelunkers united under a name of their own; Before an altar to Yemekar, they named themselves Kazamar Kresttrulliv, this was the genesis of Clan Gemeye.

 

Soon after Baleg had successfully carved his slice of the underdark from Khorvad’s grasp, newcomers trickled in from the far reaches of the underground. Those who took an ill-fated turn, those who would starve in the valleys of stone, those who would perish before their loved ones even noticed their absence, all were beckoned by the distant torches of Kaz’ad’Nerroth. Though not all were in search of refuge, as Baleg’s rumblings would greatly disturb the drow who previously dwelled and hunted within the abyssal plains. They would stalk the outer reaches of the fortress, dwelling just between the edge of light and dark, where they would ambush any leaving the safety of its impenetrable walls. Baleg did not sit idle while his sacrifices were squandered by savages. Thus, he once again led his loyal army and the newly formed Silver Legion against his enemies. The drow were ultimately captured, and Baleg would make an example of them for any who wished to stand against Clan Gemeye; The captured drow were imprisoned within soul cores, which were inserted into bodies of crudely chiseled coal to reflect their ugly and unpleasant nature. Baleg ordered them to march single file through the depths for eternity, repeating the names they once held in life for their kin to hear as their bodies slowly crumbled to powdered coal before their very eyes. Baleg’s message was made abundantly clear, and peace would reign among the Gemeyes for another two centuries.

 

Chapter X: Logos

Spoiler

Urgrim Grimnisson was born into his brother’s shadow, destined to forever look up at Baleg’s indomitable spirit. He watched in real time as the Underdark was forcefully and violently seized, and for Baleg’s efforts, Urgrim never knew hunger or despair. There was a youthful curiosity to his large green eyes, the desire to understand everything he touched; He wondered, “What makes stone so rigid?”, “How does a golem animate its body?”, or “What gives metal its properties?” These questions were mulled over in silence, choosing not to concern himself with envy towards his cherished brothers but instead focused inwards in contemplation of the world. He did not lament his confines, though he was unsatisfied, feeling that a crucial component of dwarven life was absent within him and his kin. This emptiness gnawed at his sterile mind, driving him to wander among the remnants of history. Whilst his brothers occupied themselves with the future, Urgrim turned to the past, studying the neglected ideals of Elder Clan Starbreaker from the books and artifacts cast aside in their rage. Within those rotted leather bindings he found the highest truth, the Brathmordakin as it was, unaltered and raw. Urgrim struggled to grasp foreign concepts such as the sun, the moon and the stars; these were not natural phenomena in his lived experience, thus he only knew each patron at their most fundamental level. This did not impede Urgrim, who wielded his first hammer in service of metal, he forged himself a crude pair of tongs and found the joy of creation within his heart.

 

With the birth of his younger sister Olga, Urgrim chose to aid Baleg in his conquest of the underdark. He did not share his brother’s demons, he held no contempt for faceless oppressors, Urgrim held only the love for his sister and the promise of tomorrow within him. Thus, into the hands of every golem was thrust a hammer and pick forged under the sweat of Urgrim’s brow. Their combined efforts ultimately yielded the completion of Kaz’ad’Nerroth, whose marbled halls ushered in the creation of Clan Gemeye. Though Urgrim was morally conflicted, he too swore off the mantle of Elder Clan Starbreaker, citing that their faith was corrupted by their own violent traditions, which saw their own kin’s lives unsacred. He understood Methysko’s gospel, that all who were lost could be found and returned to their holy quest with newfound fervor. But Urgrim was also wary of Baleg’s resentment for the past; he feared that the resentment present within his brother’s motives would leave behind the Brathmordakin faith for its attachment to the Starbreakers. He defied his brother, leaving the safety of their fortress for the desolate stratum of the abyssal plains where he could preserve the faith without quarrel.

 

Chapter XI: Evangelism

Spoiler

Urgrim’s pilgrimage through the stony wastes taught a valuable lesson on observation, that emptiness was subjective to the beholder. What one may view as nothing may very well be the absence of effort, that value appears once an object or place is impressed upon. He learned this when confronted with Methysko’s monument to Yemekar buried deep within the shadowed heart of the godless realm, the presence of such fine craftsmanship in a place characterized by discord posed to Urgrim a question: “How could the Forgefather create from the nothingness of the void?” He pondered under the carved pillar until the answer finally came to him, “Nothingness is subjective. Rock may seem a dull and unusable material, bereft of value, until it is given form and purpose by its creator. The same can be said of the void’s primordial elements, once unintelligible chaos was now formed into the very essence of creation. An object is rendered something when it is no longer viewed as nothing.” Urgrim, satisfied with this conclusion, decided that this place would do for his purposes, and so he dug, laying the foundations for a mighty workshop which would surround the Yemekarian monument. This place would come to be known as “Da Vlag Kadrel”, the lonely forge nestled within a sea of darkness. 

 

It appeared to Kaz’ad’Nerroth as a bonfire twinkling in the distance, and whispers soon told of a mysterious figure whom they dubbed the ‘keeper of the amber flame’. They claimed your wildest dreams could be given form should you heed his words, stirring many to make the pilgrimage. They left trinkets and offerings to ward the path for those traversing the abyss, using the lonely light as their northern star. There, they met Urgrim, and he alone tended to the bubbling forge which lit their way. He made a trade with each and every pilgrim who passed through the halls of his sacred workshop, their time for a single dream. He would teach them of the Brathmordakin, opening their minds to the faith with the promise that even in the godless realm, the gods could still be reached if they simply etched their patron’s tenets into their hearts. To fulfill their trade, Urgrim asked that they share a dream and he would forge it. “I dreamt I were beautiful.” They’d say, so he crafted a brooch unlike any other. “I dreamt I was strong!” They’d say, so he forged a weapon which would never falter. “I dream of creating like you.” Some would say, and he’d preach of how the scarcity of materials was a lesson for Yemekar’s acolytes to craft with mindfulness. Until one wake, his sister Olga entered the halls of Da Vlag Kadrel alone and confided, “I dreamt I were free.”

 

Chapter XII: Pathos

Spoiler

Olga Grimnisdóttir suffered from an unusual plight since birth, she was an empath, one prone to the emotional turbulence of her surrounding kin. It was said that her mismatched eyes were the blessing of Belka, who herself touched Olga from within the womb and imparted the ability to read the hearts of dwed with her crystalline eye. For this reason, Baleg and Urgrim would name their clan after their sister, and so she too adopted the name Gemeye. But growing up within the marbled halls of Kaz’ad’Nerroth, the so-called bastion of hope, Olga found the hearts of her people racked with despair. Their pleasantries were artificial, betraying the melancholy which drowned their dispositions. She knew what their minds truly spoke of, “Is this really all there is to life?” The wrinkles of their resting faces told, “Have we no purpose but to eat and sleep?” Cried the bags under their eyes. She cast her sight to the abyss, pained by the visage of her people void of their light, and glimpsed a twinkling amber star far out beyond roaming Melkanahi. Tales of a lonely smith circulated in murmurs behind cold pillars, in whispers behind closed doors, and in chatter among children. Word had it that a path emerged from the outskirts of the fortress, one draped in jewelry and warded by prayer tokens, one which wound through the crags and valleys of the godless realm and delivered you to the amber flame where a single dream could be manifest.

 

Young Olga, enticed by legend, snuck free of Baleg’s undying sentries to make the pilgrimage across the abyss. She found the start to the path suspended in stillness, dozens of prayer tokens silently adrift carrying with them wards of protection from the abhorrent. Pendants, amulets, rings and beads were scattered at her feet as if the road were cobbled with jewelry, her lamps light would reflect from the ground with the gleam of gold, silver and gemstone wherever she tread. The path was long, offerings soon grew sparse and stone gave way to spires of salt, yet the amber star never waned. It twinkled overhead, everpresent, beckoning her forward even when the path had disappeared. She crossed gravel plains where rock was pulverized under foot of roaming Melkanahi. She wove through a crystalline labyrinth where the land itself was punctured by huge shards of clear quartz, and at its end she finally found it. Mantling a ledge, Olga was met with the sight of a pillar which eclipsed the amber star, one carved with painstaking detail and crowned with an anvil. Surrounding her and the pillar, the arcades of a mighty workshop welcomed, at its heart was the bright and bubbling forge which lit her path. There, she met the fabled smith, it was her brother Urgrim laboring away with his back turned to her. “Another wayward soul, come to make the exchange?” He asked, his focus unbroken. She sensed within him heaviness, a Sisyphean burden entwined with humility which weighed down even his words. “Urgrim, dearest- It’s me.” She spoke, approaching her brother.

 

Chapter XIII: Hope

Spoiler

Within the churning heart of Da Vlag Kadrel, brother and sister were re-united at last. “Olga, my sweet opal, how you’ve grown.” Urgrim smiled, “What dream possessed your venture?” She thought for a moment, mulling over that which turned her eyes to the abyss. The sight of her kin pained her deeply so, to see purpose absent from their hearts, to dwell in the gloom which pervaded Kaz’ad’Nerroth, their feelings she could bear no longer. “I dreamt I were free.” She said, and Urgrim’s smile cracked as though her answer pained him. “I…” He hesitated, “...In all my years, I have never been able to forge that.” Urgrim confessed, turning his back to Olga with a tinge of guilt. “Our kin are desperate, brother.” She insisted, “I have seen it, they stride without purpose!” Urgrim returned to his laboring, striking hot ferrum with his hammer. “Nonesense, I have given them purpose,” He grumbled, “They are to serve the Brathmordakin, they may occupy themselves with the faith.” She stamped her foot in protest, “No! Urgrim! They cannot relate-” Olga yelped as Urgrim suddenly threw his tongs against the tiled floor, “Have you journeyed out here to defy me, implying my labors for these selfish dwed aren’t good enough- did Baleg put you up to this?!” He confronted Olga. “No!” She squealed, “I tell you, our world is different!” Urgrim saw the terror in his sister’s face and the sincerity behind her words, then let out a heavy sigh. His anger extinguished as he wiped a tear from his sister’s slate colored cheek, having left a small streak of grime in its place. “They cannot relate, brother…” She repeated meekly, “...We know not of the sun, the moon, nor the stars. I know not what a storm is, nor a sea. We know not of their world, they cannot apply your teachings to their lives.” Olga explained, looking up to Urgrim. He suffered, greatly so, the weight on his soul was immeasurable, burdened by the entire Brathmordakin pantheon carried on his back. She took his hand, staring into his jaded green eyes, and shared with him a different dream. “I dreamt my people had hope, that you suffered no longer.”

 

And so, when fate played its cards against the Gemeyes, Olga replied with seven gemstone tablets in hand. These were the new doctrine, inscribed into their surfaces was an altered Brathmordakin carefully crafted by both herself and Urgrim, translating its tenets to the natural phenomenon of the underdark. In a symbolic gesture, Olga relieved Urgrim of his duties by  venturing across the godless realm with the texts fastened to her back. Every step felt as though it would be her last, the burden of the faith strained her knees and crushed her soles with its immensity, but she persevered knowing that the suffering of her kin was far greater. Her return to Kaz’ad’Nerroth smited the heart of despair, for no longer did the gods seem exclusive to their surface dwelling ancestors. They crafted the finest of jewelry in honor of their patrons, traded amongst themselves trinkets and garb, and sung with gusto through any labor. Kaz’ad’Nerroth, once a quiet fortress home to those waiting for death, exploded with culture, faith and hope for the future. But as her kin reveled in their newfound vigor, Olga grieved, for she learned that Karvia was on her deathbed. She suffered a terrible affliction, ravaged by the very same ailment which once threatened her granddaughter. Olga secluded herself to her mother’s chamber and tended to her without rest, but Karvia could see the bags under her eyes deepen with each wake. “...Olga, my dearest Opal…” She’d protest, “...You must retire, your body grows weary...” But to no avail, for Olga refused to leave her bedside. Until one morning, Karvia woke and found Olga fast asleep beside her, defeated by her body’s need for rest. She felt the life within her chest stirring faintly and tried desperately to reach for her daughter, but alas, she could not move, for the petrification had penetrated deep and proliferated throughout her joints.

 

“No, this cannot be how this ends.” She told herself.

 

Karvia inhaled sharply, then forced her body upright through immense pain and pulled Olga into her arms. It felt as though her hardened skin would tear into a thousand pieces, but it mattered not, for she was determined to spend her last remaining hours comforting her daughter. “...Olga…” She wheezed softly, caressing her hair with the calcified nubs which were once her fingers. “...Listen not to the whisperings of doubt, but to the voice of reason. You must not deprive yourself of the hope you’ve gifted others.” Olga’s anxious stirring was quelled, and a faint smile crept over her face as she now slept comfortably in her mother’s arms. “I am content with the end…” She murmured, closing her eyes and reminiscing over all that had transpired, “...Oh, what a beautiful dream…”

 

Chapter XIV: Zenith

Spoiler

Karvia’s passing devastated Clan Gemeye, she had touched the lives of nearly every dwed in Kaz’ad’Nerroth with her infectious joy and affinity for life. Her pyre was held in the fortress proper before the masses, and she was sent off to the Khaz’a’dentrumm adorned by the prayers of the mourning. Methysko, Grimni, Baleg, Urgrim and Olga gathered afterwards within the bastion’s temple to read over Karvia’s last will and testament, each suffering in their own unspeakable grief. To Methysko, Indra’s still glowing core was finally returned, kept in pristine condition by her grandmother who sought to shelter her from the underdark’s cruelty. Karvia’s will dictated that Olga be named Clan Mother and matriarch of the Gemeyes in her stead, and entrusted to her a letter whose contents have never been publicly shared. From this letter, Gemeye prosperity would reign for the next two centuries, each of her children having taken up their respective roles as pillars of their society. Baleg further explored the sacred art of golemancy, finding his spiritual footing after witnessing his own anima coursing through his first gem construct. Following his enlightenment, Baleg would go on to spread the practice among his kin and he achieved a small following of devoted craftsmen in doing so. Urgrim returned to Da Vlag Kadrel, inspiring many to venture beyond their comforts and learn of the complexities of their world. He would spend the remainder of his wakes in the company of steel and the rare wayward traveler seeking the light of his forge. Olga, now the matriarch of her people, remained within Kaz’ad’Nerroth, refining the denomination of Brathmordakin faith she and her brother had created into what is now known as the Prismatic Doctrine, with three unique tablets, that of garnet, malachite and opal, later crafted to outline the spirit of Gemeye culture.

 

This was the height of Gemeye civilization, her clansfolk were content despite the circumstances, and the lives they led were a testament to the resilience of the dwarven spirit. Still, there were those who longed for more, beardlings who wished to know what the stars looked like, and with the advent of divination Olga employed the practice of scrying in pursuit of an end to their exile. It became commonplace for kin to see her pacing the halls in her iconic cream-colored opal dress, contemplating in murmurs or absently staring out into the abyss. But no matter how she phrased the question, an answer never came, only her dull reflection inverted by the quartz of her pondered orb. “Have the gods turned their backs on us?” She wondered, “Does something stay their hands?” Until one fateful wake when she asked the specific question, “When will the Kazamar Kresttrulliv return to the gods’ realm?” and she received a premonition in response, a prophecy that the descendant races would set aside their differences in face of a great calamity. Perplexingly, this prophecy became the only answer, recurring in all mediums of divination as an answer to any question she asked, regardless of its correlation. She struggled to ascertain its meaning, staring the metaphorical basilisk in its face until the truth finally came to her in a grim revelation. Fate would sooner permanently unite the descendant races than have mercy on Clan Gemeye, for their misdeeds were too great, and world peace would be more likely than a happy ending for herself and her kin.

 

Chapter XV: Reckoning

Spoiler

The fall of Kaz’ad’Nerroth has been recorded as biblical in scale, for the triumph of Clan Gemeye once seemed insurmountable, destined even to enter the ranks of history’s greatest civilizations. It started as a rumor, whisperings of tall shadows stalking the ramparts soon mutated into tales of fanged beasts with the ethereal power to twist the minds of their prey. Sentries would rampage across its high walls, damaged well beyond repair by unseen forces and leaving Baleg no closer to discovering their elusive saboteurs. He was privy to the concerns of Olga, as she had penned her brothers a letter speaking of imminent danger foretold by her divinations. But, in Baleg’s hubris, he ignored her and reassured the clansfolk that his undying army would keep them safe. The apocalypse which ensued after was steeped with such infamy that it earned the name “Azmoroth”, for the identity of their enemy would become known in the worst of ways. The drow which Baleg had previously subjected to cruel and unusual punishment, were the fearsome Mori which laid claim to all of the underdark, and they had returned with a vengeance. As simple as toppling the smallest domino, they provoked the Melkanahi into assaulting Kaz’ad’Nerroth, which to Baleg’s horror, was rendered near defenseless with over half of his sentries having been disabled. Though, his arrogance was not misplaced, for each and every sentry including himself and his silver legion were armed with the weaponry of Urgrim and were very capable fighters at that. The siege was on, Baleg held the line with such ferocity that he became the very first of his kin to slay a Melkanahi.

 

 “To me, Legionnaires! Dungrimm guides our spears, we shall hold these gates to our end!” Were the last recorded words of Baleg Grimnisson, who in the company of his men and many khoren, went down with Kaz’ad’Nerroth. Though they were valiant, this was not a story of triumph and these were not the days of Urguan Silverbeard, the Gemeyes possessed no such heroes as the likes of Yavok or Gotrek, and thus stood no chance to the Mori who felled their entire civilization in merely four hours. Those who looked back from the darkness of the abyssal plains during their escape witnessed horrific insectoid abominations tear down their bastion with ease, and the torches of Kaz’ad’Nerroth which once granted mercy to the lost were snuffed out in its debris.

 

Chapter XVI: Salvation

Spoiler

Amongst the remnants of Clan Gemeye, Methysko walked with what few kin remained, his spirit sundered by defeat. When the Mori destroyed Kaz’ad’Nerroth, riders scavenged the abyssal plains in search of survivors whom they snatched or slaughtered to ensure their work was completed. Olga gave her life to ensure the survival of her brothers’ children, and Methysko carried in his arms her only daughter who was but an infant. This was the age of Enn’os’Moroth, when the Gemeyes were destined to fade into the darkness, when Methysko’s sentence would be served. The remnants were forced to adopt a nomadic lifestyle, their culture abandoned for survivalism and borrowed powers, anything was acceptable if it meant living to see a few more wakes.

 

Methysko, broken beyond hope, sought to drown his misery in substances. “This was my doing,” He thought, “How could I dare to dream, in this forsaken place…” And he would live pitifully, staring hollowly from the edge of camp as mushrooms fried his brain. His psychedelic plunge was not accompanied by the voice of the betrayer, for not even Khorvad had use for a husk such as Methysko. Yet there, in the deepest of darks, he saw the flickering light taunting him once more. He narrowed his eyes to the flame, and saw the face of a dwed staring back from behind a candle. It was rugged, covered in streaks of grime and grown from its cheeks was a greying, matted beard drenched in silt. Frighteningly, though it lacked pupils it knew Methysko had matched its gaze, as it brought a dirty finger to its lips to shush him. Grimdugan, the Lord of Avarice, had made his presence known as he weighed Methysko’s heart for himself. This was a private auction, one which revealed a soul heavy as gold which was in truth fattened by guilt. He felt immense disappointment emanating from the Brathmordakin, for his boundless selfishness had resigned himself and his kin to this accursed place. No, he decided, Methysko was not worthy of his bid, much less so the bid of the others. But before he could protest, Methysko was stolen back to reality by one of his own, begrudgingly urging him to return to them for their caravan was to travel again soon. He glanced back at the abyss, but the Brathmordakin was gone, though Methysko still felt his eyes watching long after they departed, judging his every move.

 

He knew all too well what the others thought of him, “Rotten greybeard,” they whispered, assuming they could not be heard. His temperament was foul, he was dead weight to his people and constantly sampled the local fungi, desperate to dissociate himself from the consequences of his actions. But while he thought himself perceptive, they plotted without his knowing. “The core, he has one-” They spoke among themselves, “...If we make a Khoren body, we may use it to free us. Cabo speaks of a cave where the rock is hard but foliage grows, we must be close…” And so, the plan was enacted and a body was made, Indra’s stolen core inserted into its chest where it rumbled to life with ancient magic. When Methysko woke from his stupor, he was alone, robbed of his daughter and abandoned by his kin. He wept, crumpled on the ground in anguish, until sunlight caught in his glistening tears. He looked to the heavens and saw freedom, clean mountain air and early morning sunbeams streaming into the depths from the Almarian countryside. “No.” He stayed his hand, “I do not deserve this.” His mind coursed with his many sins, and he resolved to put an end to his people’s curse, he resolved to put an end to himself. Methysko, determined to truly free his people, clamored back into the ruins and rested his starving body in the crevices of a geode, where he sat until Dungrimm finally claimed his wretched soul at last, and his mortal shell was preserved in amethyst.

 

( If you’re interested in creating a Gemeye, respond to this post with your IGN, Discord and Timezone, or message Reece_Nolan in-game. )

 

Credits to these individuals for making this entire project possible, it’s been two long years and we genuinely couldn’t do this without you!

RoyalClouds

XxEnderking
SimplySeo
Nooblius
DrHope
GremlockGremlin

CharlestheDwarf

nepir

Scatmanpro

Jamwill

Xergarok

Wulfric_Borr

PanicZealot3724

xMuted

Titanium430

siglms_

Cheezboi9

 

Credits for images used in the order they appear.

Zack Stella, MTG

BulletproofSteak

Chris Rahn

MaiMaiArt

sadxzero

Leonardo Cordeiro

Viktor Titov
 

Below is a directory of resources for those unfamiliar with the dwarven aspect of LOTC, many of these are also citations for the creation of this post. Be sure to upvote each as you visit them!

The Creation Mythos   The Encyclopedia of Dwarven Language

Yemekar   Runic Translator

Anbella   The Material Alphabet

Grimdugan   Alchemy

Armakak   Warforging

Belka   Golemancy

Ogradhad   Elder Clan Starbreaker

Dungrimm   Clan Silverbraid

Methysko’s Journals   Aevosi Tarot

Gemeye Cooking

 

[_RoyalCrafter_ 5285]

Spoiler

A two a year project completed, what an amazing journey and what an incredible result. All props to you Reece, while I came up with just the basic idea you are the one who did 99% of the work.

Narvok oz Kesttrulliv

 

[Gnomeh 470]

I want a dwarf and I havent even read it yet

 

[Jamwill 211]

One of, if not the best clan post to ever grace the forums.

 

Well done Reece.

 

Spoiler

We actually got Gemeye clan post before GTA VI

 

[Scatmanpro 275]

I remember all the times I opened up discord to see a new Gemeye-update from Reece. It was very intriguing to see this project slowly take shape, absolutely beautifull. Props to Reece and props to Royal, what a project and what a way to do it!

[Xein000 264]

I haven't had any dwarf, but now I'm interesting in getting one.

[HurferDurfer1 2978]

cool post, i want to play a gemeye now

[_Black_Drag0n_ 781]

Congrats on finishing one of the most impressive pieces of lore I've seen! We are proud to be able to call you a member of the dwarven community!!

[Holyland 3650]

SERIOUSLY impressive bro. Hats off, from another culture/religion writing lover. 

[Reece Nolan 996]

19 hours ago, Holyland said:

SERIOUSLY impressive bro. Hats off, from another culture/religion writing lover. 

Thank you!