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Dwain the First Irongut

This is the tale of Clan Irongut, an ancient and powerful family reaching back to the days of Great King Urguan, the father of all Dwedmar. Eight sons was the King of Stone gifted, yet the one who would see to the founding of the Irongut Clan, was the Cave Dwarf Dwain. A strong-willed, brave individual, well-knowing of how to fight, and live to tell about it. But while all these qualities made him a fine dwarf, he would always be, and still is to this day, renowned for his ability to consume copious amounts of alcohol and food, without ever needing to halt. Drinking competitions, feasting, these were all activities where Dwain bested his brothers by far. Urguan quickly took notice of this, and for this he was granted a most fitting name of which was to become that of his lineage; Irongut.

The years went on, and the sons became older. Families had been established, and the clans increasing in size by each passing year. While most of the brothers stayed with their father’s Kingdom, Dwain chose a different path. He ventured out into the wild, new world that Yemekar had forged. While ancient records mention little of Dwain’s endeavors in this period of ancient time, he did return to his father years later, now with two sons of his own. Draco was the eldest, and Heron the younger. A great feast was held that day, with family reunited, upon where Urguan asked his son:

“Where have you been, my boy?”

Dwain replied with a short nod. “I wish I could tell you father, but I cannot. While I cannot make up for my absence, I do wish to compensate you, for the worry and trouble I may have inflicted upon you.”

Dwain told Urguan of his plans, to build an outpost near the Lands of Horen, in his father’s name. Hesitant, but wise as always, Urguan consented to send his son off to complete his quest. Bringing with him his two sons, Dwain headed off a short week later. After two stone weeks, they made it to the designated spot where the outpost was to be built. But this would be no ordinary outpost, no. Dwain would make his father proud. His two sons were invaluable to him in the construction, and this is where the two young Ironguts truly discovered their differences. Draco was physically stronger than Heron, and spent days and nights perfecting what was to become a masterpiece. On the other hand, while Heron the younger did not possess the strength of his brother, he was a clever lad, and strong in mind. Through his calculations and logistics, he was of great help in the planning and measuring of the construction.

And there it was, the Irongut Manor. Years had passed, and the creation was complete. A grand hall, a walled domain nestled in the hills beyond Oren. Dwain could feel the pride within his heart, how he would rejoice when his father would come to see his greatest creation. While Heron was eagerly wanted to volunteer to accompany Dwain, it was Draco who was chosen to accompany him back to the Kingdom, of whom now both had their own sons and daughters. But unfortunately for Dwain, times had changed. Upon his return to the Kingdom, there was no feast. No songs of union and joy. The king, the allfather and eternal guardian of the Dwedmar race, had perished in his old age. Dwain was heartbroken, and darkness took him. All those years, all the hope, wasted on a futile attempt to impress his father, whom now lay dead before him. The ire, the unquenchable anger inside of him was overwhelming. After a grand, majestic funeral worthy of a Dwedmar King, Dwain and Draco took the long way home, back to where they had now established a home for their clan, Dwain with a heartache heavier than a thousand stones.

Dwain’s Descent

Word of the King's demise had reached the other Ironguts before their Clan Father and Draco’s return, and Heron had already begun to prepare a feast. For he knew that Dwain mourned his father deeply. Tables, lined with the finest from the dwarven cousine, with ale kegs upon ale kegs stacked upon eachother, it was truly a view to behold. But as Clan Father Dwain returned with his son, he was in no mood for fun and kinship. While meal after meal went down the throats of singing and shouting dwarves, Dwain simply sat there, staring at the mug of ale in front of him. Not drinking, not eating. Draco and Heron did not know how to help their father. It soon became clear that Dwain was no longer capable of leading the settlement, as he mostly just sat by himself, reflecting on his past, the present, and the future. Rarely speaking, rarely moving, in a state of deep depression. While Draco soon took charge of the clan hold, Heron wanted to help his father. Somehow he had always felt underappreciated, and not as successful as his brother. He thought he would never be the favourite son of his honourable father, something that had always nagged him his entire life. Heron started studying the many tomes and scrolls his clan had now hoarded for so many years, in order to find a way to cure Dwain from his sickness. Words of Dwain's depression eventually reached out to the other denizens of the world, and the news happened upon the ears of a mysterious merchant, who visited the Irongut Manor several months later. He claimed he had a special deal for Heron, a certain book which might hold the answer to Dwain’s mysterious condition, and how to cure it. Naturally, Heron did not hesitate, and purchased this tome. What Heron found in this ancient book, was in no way something which his brother would allow, for Draco was a righteous man. One does fiddle with such dark arts.

Years went by, with Dwain’s condition in no way any better. The once strong, determinative Dwain was no longer what he used to be, but an old, silent man. Heron had also become more reclusive in his later years; spending a lot of his time in the tombs below the manor, in a secret and hidden room where he had been studying the large book he had been given. It was all written in there. How one could bring the dead back from their graves, how to bend them to one's will. These were the arts he was learning, the dark forces he dared meddling with. Draco on the other hand, having inherited the same fervor and ambition as his father, worked hard on improving his clan, and expand its influences. While most of his sons were hardworking and dedicated, he felt more and more distanced from his brother and nephews. Dwain Irongut was eventually called back to the capital of the dwarves. The Ironborn in his absence took control of the kingdom and the people. Dwain finally after centuries of silence took his personal weapon and marched to the Ironborn throne room. He challanged the Ironborn King to a honor duel and for his outspoken actions the people rallied around him. Dwain was quickly silenced and beheaded for his rash actions. His clansmen were able however to take his body back to the Irongut Manor, Simmpa’s rebellions started.  He was buried in the tombs, returned to stone as all living things must with time. By this time, Heron was fully learned, and in the aftermath of the funeral of Dwain, Draco finally started to notice the strange behavior of Heron. How he had stopped socializing, not sharing any meals with his clansmen, and spending so much time down in the tomb where his father lay. It was as if he had lost his brother too, and the only times he did see him, something was wrong. Heron’s eyes were in no way those of his former self. Darker, deeper.

The Betrayal of Heron

Draco eventually ventured down into the tombs, to have a serious talk with his brother Heron. Stopping by his father’s sealed tomb however, he could hear scratches. Strange noises coming from the other side of the seal. The rattling of bones and swirling of winds. Draco, determined and quick to act as always, reserved little time for reflection. He grabbed a nearby maul used in the seal’s construction, before he smashed it into the tomb wall. Draco narrowed his eyes as dust swirled out from the room, the cracked rocks settling on the floor. Mystical, bright and purple lights shone through the big hole he had created, and the foul scent of death entered through his nostrils. There stood Heron, wielding a staff with a mounted skull. Mangled corpses of both men and animal littered the bloodied stone floor around the grave of Dwain in a peculiar, circular shape, casting long shadows from the purple, bright haze. Draco could not believe what he saw, nor did he know what to feel. Anger or fear. Disappointment or grief. Hatred soon filled his mind as he drew the curved blade Dwain had forged a long time ago, of what is now a famed Irongut relic; Mourgil.

A dark, ominous voice boomed from Heron’s throat, one which did not belong to him. “So you finally found me, brother?”

Draco stood firm, his sword curled up in his hand as he shouted back. “What is this? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE, HERON!?” he bellowed as he shook his head, staring in disbelief at the horror taking place before him. The shadowy figure simply laughed. “I, Heron, have brought GREATNESS to our clan. ME!” rung in the room as he pounded his chest with his fist. “Not YOU. You shall watch me, as I bring him back to the living, AS I DEFY DEATH ITSELF! He shall know of my great power now, how I am the chosen one!” he roared as raw, crackling energy surged up through his arms, a small orb of blue, misty matter formed in his palm and grew in size. “NO HERON, DO NOT DO THIS!” Draco yelled, but it was already too late. The orb exploded, shooting forward a blending beam of darkness into the stony grave of Dwain.

The tomb begun to shake violently as dirt and rubble drizzles down from the now cracked ceiling. The grave broke open, cracking into pieces as an ethereal, decaying body rose from it. There he stood, the dead Dwain Irongut. The father of the Irongut brothers. Draco’s face turned pale as he watched the undead Dwain turn toward what was once Heron, with a dark, cracked smirk upon his face.

“HERON IRONGUT” Dwain boomed. “YOU HAVE PROVEN YOURSELF WORTHY OF YOUR CLAN. KILL YOUR INCOMPETENT BROTHER, MAKE HIM SUFFER FOR HIS INTOLERABLE FAILURES!”

Draco’s face turned bright red as he felt his tears pressing on, yearning for release. Hatred boiled inside of him. “You are not MY FATHER! He would NEVER DO THIS!”

Heron cackled madly as he tapped his staff on the ground, sending out a wave of purple energy along the cracked floor tiles. “Rise, my minions! FEAST ON THE FLESH OF MY BROTHER!” The mangled corpses that littered the floor around him suddenly started to nudge, rising up to their feet as they lunged at Draco. With a swift, horizontal strike with Mourgil, he sliced one of the ghouls in half before he took a huge leap back, ready for another attack. Draco swung again as another one jumped on him, sliding the blade into the creature’s neck, before he turned around and stabbed another one right through its skull. He suddenly screamed and fell to his knees as another ghoul bit right into his left arm. As he yanked the blade out from the skull to defend himself, another creature grabbed his sword arm, locking it in place as it pressed its foot into the back of Draco.

All of a sudden, out of nowhere, a bright light emerged from the middle off the room, blinding all, both living and dead, inside the tomb. The two remaining ghouls disintegrated before Draco as he fell over, covering his eyes. As the light slowly got dimmer, he dared to open his eyes. There stood four men, dressed in white robes. Bright, yellow lights beamed out from their palms, crashing straight into the withering body of Dwain Irongut as they shouted in unison.

“Return to the shadows, foul deamon of Old!”

The dark, ethereal body of Dwain was lifted up by the flows of light, hovering above the cracked grave. Black shadows swirled around him as his eyes began to glow a bright red. Whatever hid inside his body now thundered. “CURSE YOU, SAGES OF AERIEL! YOU ONLY DELAY THE INEVITABLE!”

The shadowy figure exploded as darkness quickly drained out from the tomb, the body of Dwain crashing back into the cracked tomb as bright energy pieced together the broken stone, before fading away. Heron fell to his knees, the demonic staff sliding out from his grasp. Draco hobbled over to Heron, kneeling next to him as the sages carefully watched from a distance.

“Why, brother. Why did you do this? Is your hatred greater than your love for this family?”

“Father loved you. And I wanted his love more. I did EVERYTHING FOR HIM, YET HE CHOSE… YOU!” Heron slid a dagger out of his pocket as he unexpectedly lunged at Draco. Heron is blasted off as the four sages set him ablaze with their magic, just in time before the dagger pierces the skin of Draco, sending him flying into the wall, engulfed in flames. Draco leaned over, placing his face in in hands as tears ran down his cheeks, into his beard. One of the sages walked up to him and placed his hand on Draco’s shoulder before he uttered: “I can offer you little consolation, for a dear brother is an irreplaceable loss. But I can offer advice.” Draco slowly lifted his head, narrowing his eyes as he stared into the glowing, blue eyes of the sage.

“You must destroy this place and go back to your fellow dwarves, for your sons and daughters will be needed in the centuries to come. So too, shall your nephews and nieces, but forever more will they be tainted by their father’s choice, and must choose for themselves the right path. So it is spoken, and so it must be done.” The sage finished, sliding his hand off Draco’s shoulder as he rose. “We will take care of the Manor, just take whatever supplies you’ll need for the journey home, and be off.”

Two weeks later, Draco finally led his clan back into familiar halls, Kal’Urguan. Here they served their Kingdom for many prosperous years, Draco himself becoming the Lord Marshall of the Kingdom.

-Aegis-

The Ironguts rebuilt the Irongut manor and lived both there and in the Capital of Kal' Urguan. They are the first clan to discover their past and gain together in many numbers. Two notable ironguts ascend to the throne, King Algrim and King Belin. Kilgrim Irongut becomes the first dwarven mage, and Hiebe Irongut becomes the first and only ascended of the Dwedmar. Ironguts eventually lose their famed manor to the invasion to the Undead and in a desperate attempt to ensure that their dead would not be reanimated, had to burn the bodies of the past Ironguts. The ashes were collected and from then on the Ironguts have always burned the bodies of the dead.

-Asulon-

The early days of Asulon Hiebe was involved with a plot tried to remove the King Thorik but was unsuccessful due the other political leaders backing out due to threats from Thorik. The Ironguts left the dwarven nation and created the Island Nation of Holm. This nation was short lived, and after news of Thorik’s death the Ironguts returned to their brethren of stone. The Ironguts supported the new King Kjell but after many new cities being built and the King never thinking for the best of all. The Ironguts sided with the other grand clans, Grandaxe and Goldhand, rebelled from Kjell and lived in Kal' Dwain built by Darius Irongut. The major clans prospered but then Hiebe, backed by the other clan lords, rebuilt Karik and moved all the dwarves there. Hiebe became King shortly after as the clan lords offered it to him.

-Anthos-

The early days of Anthos where a troublesome time for the clan. While other larger clans used what positions they had in the government to get access to large quantities of food and materials, and growing rich, the Ironguts had no such power. Our numbers where no more than a handful as many had gone missing on the trip. We survived though and with the end of King Omi's reign things turned around for the clan. When Thorin took the crown, so to did Dominic Irongut take the leadership of the clan. We attained a clan hall and power in the government, but for some it was not enough. The young beardlings of the clan felt it was time for the Cave Dwarfs to rise up, so Duregar left the clan taking a few young dwarfs with him and formed the Thunderfists, a dishonorable and rebellious clan. Their fools errand ended roughly an elven week later, and as a result, they where banished to the Iron Aquifer. Now with only a few old dwarfs the Ironguts began to grow again. Our kin new and old slowly trickled in and while still under Thorins rule we stood 15 strong. Following the destruction of Kal’Azgoth and the construction of Kal’Ithrun, Hogarth Irongut became Lord Chancellor shortly after, providing the clan with influence and power. Later on, we joined the Goldhands in the construction of Dol’Garud, a small farming town close to the capital. After the flooding of Anthos, and escape to the Fringe, with a prolonged war against the Carrions of Oren, Grand King Wulfgar Grandaxe abdicated, allowing Hogarth Irongut to seize the throne, and in turn grant Balek Irongut his old position. Hogarth abdicated shortly after however. Hiebe Irongut managed to get hold of the Kal’Varak. In Thales, a treaty was finally signed, putting a stop to the violent warring with immediate effect, allowing us to recover from the huge losses we had suffered.

-Athera-

With the new Kingdom established in the Kazradin region, many Ironguts had returned to re-unite with their family. While a few handful had gone missing on the voyage to the new promised land, including Clan Father Gamle Irongut, Balek Irongut was promoted to Clan Father, and Hogarth Irongut the Clan Thane. Many Ironguts felt Midgor Ireheart’s reign was oppressive, and with the help of Dwain Irongut, Hiebenhall was established. Midgor was deposed shortly after, and while some moved back into the capital, the majority wished to stay at Hiebenhall. Clan Father Balek then purchased a clan hall in the cave dwarven district of Kal’Agnar, as well as securing a stall for the clan company, Irongut Emporium, to sell their wares. A new Kal’Varak is found, and the old in possession of Hiebe Irongut loses all its energy, rendering it useless. Hiebenhall is to this day still under construction, though largely finished. Balek has since transferred the position of Clan Father to Hogarth Irongut, making Hogarth both the Clan Father and Thane.

-Vailor

Skippy of Clan Irongut became king in Vailor. During this period the Clan itself slowly dwindled in numbers as the eldest of the clans went to their own ways to pursue their own ideas and research.

-Axios-

The Irongut Clan has fallen into a state of repair. The eldest of the clan have returned and are working together to return the clan to its former glory. Under Dwain II Irongut, a new clan hall, Khaz'Drakkon was constructed. 

> The majority of decisions are made by the Clan Father, who solely holds the responsibility to lead the Clan. The Clan Father, chosen by a majority vote by the Elders of the clan, should represent the beliefs of the Clan. It is very rare, if ever, that a Clan Father is removed by the Elders. His word is the final say in matters

 > Elders of the Clan are elected by the Clan members themselves by popular vote. Elders are responsible for leading the clan members in place of the Clan Father is he cannot be there.

> Elders are to reflect the Clan tenets directly onto the Clan members and beardlings. They also handle the initiation and teaching of magic to beardlings in the Clan.

Forging of Weapons

A tradition where those with the skills to use the Forge will often forge personal weapons. These weapons are a symbol of the Clansman's style of fighting and often have a symbol of the creator upon them somewhere, identifying them as that specific person. Many famous weapons are under possession of the clan, for example the famed blade of Dwain I Irongut, Mourgil, which is now in the hands of Balek Irongut.

Beard Braiding

Just having a simple beard is not enough for the Ironguts. The Clansmen can often be seen with braids in their beards. These can be as simple as forking the beard in two or as complex as weaving it into an intricate braid, some even weaving in gems, or adding rings of metal. The clan members grow their beards long and are careful not to burn them in the forge or get torn in battle.

Magic

Ironguts are known users of magic,and the only Dwarven Clan capable of learning Void Magic. Any member of the clan has the right to learn magic, so long as the member can follow the Clan rules. Those inclined to learn should first speak with an Elder in order to begin training. All apprentices are expected to be patient during the process of learning, as it is not a simple one. Magic is considered a sacred tradition within the Ironguts.

Clan Crest

The Ironguts often adorn a crest composed of a mug of ale and a sword to show that it was sent from an Irongut. We take pride in being Ironguts and won’t hesitate if we get a chance to show it!

Clan Banners

The Ironguts have always used their banners to mark their homes and Clan halls in the past. The banner is composed of our Clan crest and our Clan colors, silver and blue