A CENSUS OF THE SCATTERED FOREST DWARVES

[D3F4LT 1026]

 

 

❖ PREAMBLE — THE FALL OF HEFRUMM ❖

 

When Dravlon Blackroot rose to the seat of High Chief,

many hoped he would guide Hefrumm through difficult times.
Instead, his rule forged an irreparable schism between the Forest Dwarven village of Hefrumm and the Capital of Urguan.

 

Behind the Grand King’s back,

Dravlon held unauthorized diplomatic meetings with foreign nations,
actions taken in the name of Hefrumm,

but never sanctioned by Urguan nor by the dwarven people.
His decisions strained trust, undermined unity,

and forced the Grand King to act.

 

When the King’s emissaries moved to confront and depose him,
they found no leader to face,
only an empty village, abandoned without warning.

 

So where had the High Chief gone?
To build a new home for the Forest Kin?
To protect the scattered dwarves who depended on him?

 

No.

 

Dravlon vanished, taking with him the relics of Hefrumm,
leaving its people leaderless, divided, and without a future.
He made no attempt to rebuild, restore, or defend the legacy he had sworn to uphold.

A High Chief in title —
but never in deed.

 

And yet, from this failure rises new opportunity.

 

Where Dravlon abandoned the Forest Kin,
Urguan now extends its hand.
The Grand Kingdom offers a clean slate,
a chance for the Forest Dwarves to return, reunite,

and rebuild a community worthy of Bjor Cottonwood and Gloin Treebeard legacy.

 

A chance to begin again,
rooted not in the betrayal of one dwarf,
but in the strength of all Forest Kin.

 

 

❖ THE DIASPORA OF THE FOREST KIN ❖

 

With the fall of Hefrumm and the final exodus from their home,

the Forest Kin scattered across the sea to the new realm of Azuras.

 

Some found refuge in Urguan’s halls.
Others wandered into the wilds.
Some clans endure,
others lie dormant or forgotten,
and many Forest Dwarves believe themselves the last of their blood.

 

But we will never know our number, our future.
Unless we gather the scattered roots of our people once more.

 

❖ A CALL TO COUNT OUR KIN ❖

 

I, Nagorain Hodfairsson of Clan Emberhorn, call upon every Forest Dwarf,
young or old, within a clan or clanless,
to answer a single question that may shape the future of our folk:

“DO YOU BELIEVE THE FOREST KIN DESERVE A SECOND CHANCE TO FORM A NEW SETTLEMENT?”

 

 

This is not a declaration, not a rally, and not a demand.
It is a census and a headcount.

If the Forest Kin still live, if they still Care then perhaps a new hearth may rise again.
If silence answers, the time has not yet come.

 

❖ HOW TO RESPOND ❖

 

If you are Forest Dwarven by blood, upbringing, or clan, send a letter to:

 

Nagorain Emberhorn - Ekra Ranch
Clan Lord of Clan Emberhorn, decendant of Elder clan Treebeard, brother of Ordvair 6th High chief of Hefrumm.
(MC: D3F4LT)

 

Please include:

• Your Name
• Your Clan (if any)
• And your answer to the question:

 

“Do the Forest Kin deserve a second chance to form a new settlement?”

 

Your responses will be recorded so that the Forest Kin themselves, not foreign crowns,

not abandoned chiefs, decide the fate of our people.

 

[Britannicvs 2508]

"Let's hope that Nagorain can restore the fortunes of our wayward Forest-kin!" Narvi nodded approvingly at the missive. 

[Behindbush 163]

"Feels just loike the old times. . ."

Ragram beamed a grin at the missive that he encountered while leaving Urguan grounds.

He took off for a few paces before adding to himself:
"And actually the name was Dralvon, but t'at will work too"

[JudgeTrudy 610]

From a secluded home deep in the woodlands of Azuras, a lonesome Half-Dwed trekked into one of the nearby settlements for his usual mission of trade. His journey had been long and tiring, since the fall of Hefrumm in Aevos. The last time that Folkvar of the Forest Dwed had seen any of his own true kin, it had been at the height of the Urguani-Hefrumm confrontation several decades prior, and had ultimately resulted in him once more returning to the life of a recluse in fear of extermination. But as the tan Dwed passed meat, pelt, and bone for fresh crops and wool, this particular notice managed to catch his attention.

 

A calloused finger ran over the words as Folkvar mutterered the paper's contents to himself. He'd not take the missive from its post, in hope any other wandering Dwed may savor its news, but he would copy key quotes and names. On the return to his own shack by the creekside, Folkvar pondered all that had happened well over five decades prior. The disappearance of High Chieftain Tuzic Mossborn, the inauguration of the Grand King, the banishment of Alaric Grimgold, and the rise of High Chieftain Dralvon Blackroot. How much stress there had been, and fear. Folkvar had arrived to Hefrumm prior on dreams of prosperity and community - and those had been dashed quicker than he ever could have imagined.

 

For a time, the young half-Dwed blamed the denizens of Urguan itself - the Grand King, the ranking officials of his court. A long time, even, had he spat their names in passing memory, and sneered at their edicts, their wars, their triumphs. But as time came to pass, and as Folkvar began his flight from Aevos' coast, his mind had begun to change. He still had his grievances and fears of the ruling forces of the Grand Kingdom - but so, too, had he grown a deep resentment for one Dwed in particular. One, Folkvar had come to believe, whose allegience with Hefrumm had been too much for the young leaders of his village.

 

By a humble fire, Folkvar cozied himself with a fur blanket and a cup of nettle tea. He went over it all one more time, his memories now hazy. How much had he misremembered, how much had been forgotten entirely? As he mulled over a handful of the ancient relics of Hefrumm's past, he weighed the options before him: Reach out to this hopeful Emberhorn, or remain hidden under dense canopy. What was there to gain? Another attempt at a Forest Dwed community? For what? Folkvar had seen firsthand how well that had gone before, and his own father had taught him the history of his kin long prior. Would another simple vassal of the Grand Kingdom really be worth the risk of outing himself? Perhaps it would be best to give it up once and for all - let the children of the forest move on to other communities, or their secluded sects and groves as they had time and time again...

 

No. The descendants of the first Treebeard deserved better than to live in horror and squalor.

 

Folkvar spent the remainder of that night, as well as the following day, drafting a reply to this Nagorain Emberhorn.

 

"Ah won't stand in cowardice any longer. May tha Brathmordakin's teachin's guide meh to a proper 'ome once'n fer all, 'n may they bless meh fellow Dwedmar with honor, honesty, 'n humility." decreed Folkvar as he looked upon his reflection in the creek's chilly waters. "Or may Ah meet a fateful end in mah own honor, as is roight."

 

And thus, the journey for Urguan began.

 

Spoiler

I'll write a proper note IRP in the next day or two, though with it being Thanksgiving week and me having to work during it, my actual availability may flucuate! I do love me the Forest Dwarf vibes, and I've been waiting for a proper return of this kind of community for like a year and a half now. I'm not honestly sure that I would enter it as Folkvar permanently, but, I'm certainly interested as a PLAYER to see this thrive.

 

[Forestdwarfman 300]

From Dungrimm's mighty halls Bjor would look down upon the realm of mortals. He would reminice on the achievements of Hefrumm, the greatness of his kin, and the warmth of Dwarven community. From Cottonwood Village in the valley of Azgaryum, to the Alar evasion both swamp and stone in origin, to the reformation of Urguan and to the ten consequtive generations of High Chiefs. For over centuries Hefrumm had united the clans and its kin.

Much glory seemed withered now, and soon too will their records. New becomes old, and the new new replaces the old, thus is the cycle of all things. 
Still, one sole truth was clear to Bjor, even from the feasting halls themselves. That the spirit of the children of Urguan and Gloin would never be broken, be it that their hearts burn hotter than any furnace or fire. 
He knew his kin would unite again, be it now, or in the centuries to come.  

Bjor looked down proud upon the realm of mortals, raising his ale horn. 

[Carson 1165]

Mirjana lights up when she sees the missive, albeit with great delay.