BDanecker

 

He thought of his first days in The Worker’s Guild, as a miner. He wasn’t treated any differently, nor was he shown any special treatment when it came to extra mining trips for things beyond The Grand Kingdom of Urguan’s hallowed halls in Arcas. He simply showed up, did his job, and helped out those who were struggling on the side. He could not smith much at all, though he could cast well, and he made his first truly smithed weapon. A dagger, bent, warped, bruised, and most likely would shatter if he looked at it wrong, but it was of ore, forged into shape as Yemekar willed it, and that was good. Though it was stolen by a bandit clan in exotic garbs and never recovered, it served as a reminder for Dorimnur in his later years, and encouragement to new smiths he taught, that nothing separated them from utmost praise to Yemekar other than hard work. For a long time, he thought that casting every metal under the earth was the way to go, and so that is what he did until corrected by Lulubelle Starbreaker. Dorimnur drinks a pale green liquid, and then gives a gasp of enjoyment, as the memories continue to flood on by.

 

He was then given the Passing of the Pickaxe ceremony by the last Yemekar’s Pick Mugdor-Dharok, though there was no actual passing of pickaxes. A momentous occasion regardless, but Dorimnur’s mind went to work right away; of a story told long ago on the roads with his band of brothers of folk who had blades that were forged of the stars themselves, as well as a portly fellow with a tooth made of such material. He vowed to craft the Yemekar’s Pick out of such, but first, he needed to talk to his kin. He gathered the rag-tag group of workers, and told him his goals and ambitions; 58 years later, he still stood by those statutes. Through untiring work, the entire royal guild was refurbished; all the jobs were given structure, quotas to be made, lessons to be given, for it was Dorimnur who created all the ranks, and all the lessons so that Urguan might once again revel in their crafts. A Passing Of Pickaxe - The Grand Kingdom of Urguan - The Lord Of The Craft

 

 

A bunch of thoughts run past him now, intermittently, and he jumps from each, as remembering things tend to go. Thulin II Starbreaker and Durorn Ireheart’s fight, and then his teaching of the Ireheart how to smith. The mapping of the map by Durorn, and then the very first promotion: Lulubelle, from Regular to Proficient, though she was certainly better than Dorimnur himself. The interruption of a lesson on how to cast silver as the skull of a God crashed into Urguan’s mountain. The addition of a Worker of the Week board, to celebrate those who did exceptionally. Many long nights of tavern drinking as Dorimnur bartended for his folk, keeping spirits high in celebration as the cart of ores was hauled back up at the end of the day. He even remembered the one time a giant pink beast destroyed their forges, putting all of Urguan’s production to a screeching halt, much to the just-awoken Guildmaster’s dismay.

 

 

The memory of the first vein of exotic ores came as he stained his coal mustache, with the humor and slight humility it brought. Despite nearly a decade of searching, the Yemekar’s Pick could not find a single vein for his workers to mine, from the great mountains of Urguan to the valleys of the Khorvassa, none was to be found. The first was found by Alaric Grimgold, which, upon taking Dorimnur to the location, caused a fury in the Miner, as he had stood on the mouth of the cave and peered out into the sea for a moment’s rest, unknowing of the fortune that quite literally lied below his feet. It was with this haul given unto them by Grimdugan that the Yemekar’s Pick was crafted, far later in years once Dorimnur felt he was worthy of crafting such a relic to the folk of The City of the Mine.

 

 

One of the more fond memories brought a smile to the dwarf of two centuries. A memory of comradery, of friendship formed in adversity. Miners and Yemekar’s Pick sitting around a kindled flame in the frozen wastes, preparing to gather the most fabled ore of Carbarum, but the veins were dry. The sense of wholeness and family was not dry, nor was the ale, as mugs were passed out, and the bite of the wintry air was warded by the fire in their hearts and the smiles on their faces as stories told of epic proportions were recounted with vigor and shaking of beards, and hearty cajoling.

 

 

 

He gives a great sigh, as he comes out of the trance that is remembrance, and he thinks of his first true friend in half a century. Kragdin Starbreaker, who would later be known as The Ringmaker, for his unparalleled creation of the finest rings in the lands. It was he who aided Dorimnur in the creation of the Guild’s Lunarite rings, for those who had distinguished themselves to become Professionals and shown that they too could work the stars into shape. Kragdin bore the first of their improvised creations, as both had not prepared to inlay steel into platinum. A smirk forms on the Guildmaster’s face as he remembers the words “Ahdunno, jest fockin’ get t’a smalled billet ah’n see ef weh can work wit et.”

 

 

Then the war started. War not against flesh and blood but of maleus and brimstone, of beings never born. A foe so dire and great, that even the simple working dwarves took it upon themselves to fight every inch they could. He recalls the invention of hot air balloons for the Kingdom of Norland, as well as a shady deal made in secret with the young King Halvar for small scouting telescopes that could be used in such balloons. Then, the hurried invention of the great cannons of yore by Dorimnur, tested on the firing ranges of the Grimgold estate, to be later used in the Siege of Vitenna.

 

The great felling of the Hellephants with the cannons produced by the guild on the USS Armakak’s Coffer; he even remembered the single shot of daemonsteel bolt by Aghuid Ireheart into the achilles of one of the beasts, earning him the title “Longshot.” Dorimnur remembers the carving of the great infernal ivory in the bay, to be fashioned into rings for all of the sailors of that fight once they hauled it’s tusk back to the Guild.

 

 

 

Then a more sad memory comes to him, as he leans back to look at the mural closest to his desk. The scouting mission into the heart of the Doghouse, where they were stopped by an undead bear. Bwelch was hasty, and ignored Dorimnur’s command to wait for it to pass, throwing one of his twin axes at the beast, simply angering it. However, it gave the dwarves enough time to bolt, running to their dinghies, and urging Bwelch to follow them. They escaped, the eyes of multiple castes of Inferi glowing in yellows, reds, and greens, as they departed to Urguan. Bwelch offered Dorimnur his remaining axe as an apology, and he was seldom seen since. 

 

 

He thought of loosing his hand. Of the gore and viscera shed on behalf of his kingdom, shouting in the face of not just death but at the gates of both hell and the heavens, as the demons of the dreaded Pentacle were used by those which the descendants worshiped, the Aengul Gazardiael. Through the unsleeping nights of the years prior to the siege, and all throughout the Inferi war, the steel that was produced by The Worker’s Guild donned the entire Legion of Urguan as the Neverborn fell to the surety of steel. Many a dwarven life were saved through the diligence that Dorimnur’s structure and hard-driving ethic demanded, and it was worth the long, tiring nights.

 

 

Then they left.

 

Magma rose from the caverns, great beasts heard roaring from far deeper than any of his miners had been sent. The caverns themselves quaked with the death of a Divine, as entire sections caved in. The housing district of Kal’Mugdor was ruined, the imposing chain bridge hanging by just one row; though Dorimnur made sure to finish his Volatite refining in the midst of the chaos, something he found himself to be very proud of, before leaving with the remnants of the dwarves not crushed by the shaking of the earth itself. It was time to go, and so they went, sadly with their great hall behind them, and unknown lands before them at the behest of the Brev. 

 

 

First to be done, was remaking Black Betty, by Aghuid Ireheart. Dorimnur had blown Black Betty up by heating Volatite up too fast, much to his grand dismay. She was refurbished, bigger and better, and most certainly explosion-proof, and is still used to this day for Urgaun’s smiths to mass-produce steel. The smiths and scouts scoured the lands for veins of exotic ores for years and years, and finally was one found, giving all the miners joy, and enabling most of the Proficients to be promoted to Professionals as Dorimnur used the ores mined to give to them to work. Dhain Metalfist and Morul Irongrinder crafted a steam whistle for the guild to use, providing a sounding-off every 24 hours, to indicate the time for those in the sunless halls. 

 

A plethora of times of great harvest and worship to the gods bounces across Dorimnur’s mind, such as the first time his adoptive son Rylanor took up a pickaxe and worshiped Grimdugan with his newfound greed. Then, of the High Prophet Falk Irongut and Kragdin Starbreaker, who had just returned from a long nomadic streak, carving the Sigil of Grimdugan above the mines to bless the miners and their bounties.

 

 

Two redheads come by his memory, but one stayed, which later became his fiery wife. She brought with her a son, one that would take away from his time at work, and caused immense fear in the dwarf, but one that he rose to the challenge for, and began a job his father never started: parenthood. Mica eventually was worth far more than gold in the greedy dwarf’s eyes, and as tradition, mined, refined, forged, and crafted ferrum rings inlaid with lunarite, such that their love might last for all eternity and never tarnish, just as the steel itself. The last Yemekar's Pick Mugdor-Dharok even showed up as one of Dorimnur's Best Men.

 

The memory of Lady Valyndris Grimgold working Starmetal sticks in his mind, a performance of worship and expertise as she hammered steel and cut gemstones for the Goldhand teacups he was so fond of. He recalls the Stone Swan glass carving that sat in his vault; a terrible work, one that was hardly a truth to be called a Stone Swan, but one that he was proud to call of his own, having been taught by Valyndris, whereas the dwarf of 2 centuries was accustomed to teaching others all the time.

 

 

 It reminded him of the olden days, back when he cast everything. Those days were long gone, and now he was teaching the Starbreaker duo Hana and Nara how to split rocks for Golemancy, and the other half of the guild was researching Colorstone applications with Gu Tie, after their dealings with the Guild Mascot Bloobie and being the first in documented history to use such a material. 

 

The guild even had numerous songs spun for them, such as The Song of Miner’s End, and The Dwarven Artillerist Song, spun on behalf of those who went to the Deepways excavation site, carving halls with unparalleled speed and erecting a crane for usage.

 

 

Then the joyous memory of taking his boat out, the USS Armakak’s Coffer, to mine a new ore that was passing through the elves; one that was in the caves far out at sea. The guild took to the sea, where they came across a pair of sharks, which took his son Davli Goldhand’s foot, before they managed to slay the guardians of what Athonir the most advanced umri smith named Ironglass.

 

 

Then there was the effort spearheaded by the Grand Queen Bryldryn Grandaxe amazed Dorimnur, as she held a 2 part stonemasonry lesson in imitation of the great halls they stood in, carved by their ancestors.

 

 

The story of the Fae beast the guild had slain had a humorous start, with Dorimnur finding a map of the Fae Beacons in his possession by the wandering knight Aeonn. So, naturally as the dwarves do, they stuck their big noses where they didn’t belong. They met the Woodmans, and by the grace of Anbella managed not to get crushed by a stampeding Fae gorilla being chased by a herd of unicorns. 

 

 

The Workers mustered their forces, and then began to mobilize back to the site, where they were greeted with a new scene. The beacon was agitating and enthralling the local wildlife, and heightened the greed deep set within the dwarves. Falk and Dorimnur manned two cannons, while Glizzi’Gobbla Raguk and the rest of the workers trapped the beast with a giant bear trap, setting it still for Falk’s cannon to rip through the beast, but not before it shot a shrapnel blast of wood, shearing Klouf Grimgold’s legs clean off, and putting Rylanor Goldhand’s machine body out of commission as alchemical fluids leaked out of his frame. The dying beast charged, right for Dorimnur but fell right at his feet, as the Yemekar’s Pick greeted a near-death experience with confidence in his Workers. The gem harvested from the brain of the beast was the largest the miners had ever seen, even Dorimnur himself, as they rolled it back home on logs and mules, to hang in the Goldhand Clan Hall.

 

Dorimnur even got to celebrate his first birthday he could remember, his 200th birthday hosted by the Grimgolds and his kin the Goldhands and the rest of the Guild, although it was interrupted by the attacking of a Giant Squid. The gift his son Rylanor gave him in the form of a golden rose colorstone’d red would be something he wore constantly after.

 

 

The fall of the USS Armakak’s Coffer was a sad day for Dorimnur, for the ship that had served the Workers ever since the Inferi Scourge was sunk at the hands of pirates. It was ironic, for personal reasons that his ship sank to pirates, but he was bitter all the same, as the broadside destroyed the ironclad dwedmar ship in one volley. Dorimnur was the last to leave, considering even going down with the ship but his Worker’s pulled his eyes from the burning wreckage as the great Deep took of his pride and joy. The dwarves on their dinghies rowed to the other two ships, and eventually Dorimnur sailed the battered fleet of 2 back home. 

 

 

Dorimnur had personally crafted Josef I the Koeng of Haense blades of starmetal, to which the Worker’s Guild was invited to see him lauded by the new Koeng Heinrik. It was a momentous day for Dorimnur, as through a series of events, this had taken many decades to be recognized, and he was glad his work was finally in the public light.

 

 

Then after, words of the Ebon drake that scarred his wife resurged, sighted overhead as the dwarves went to excavate the remains of the Colossus. He acted fast, having Lulubelle craft a plethora of Ironwood shields in the grim visage of Dungrimm, dwarven god of war, for when the day came that it was time to slay the beast. 

 

He even got the remnant race of Kharajyr to move in, sprouted from a simple conversation with Meja the Alchemist to become his personal worker, which evolved into the entire Mitzuul Grove being built, to which Dorimnur held with open arms the peoples of the fallen Metzili.

 

 

More drinks came now, as the sour memory of his wife and son seemingly dieing before his very eyes in the swamps of Oren. A human detonating a Volatite mine in unrestricted greed, and then a flash, as Dorimnur jumped forth to try to shield his family, taking a bombardment of shrapnel all through his body, but it was not enough. They had died, and so did a piece of himself, even after he saw his wife later by the grace of the Monks. 

 

He shivers, and tries to think of more jovial thoughts. They come to him easily, thoughts of the Armakak’s Sun Festival, and the Grand Auction, where Dorimnur got to keep the winning item in the contest, an anorum smithing hammer tinted gold by then Sea Prince Fëanor Sylvaeri. Thoughts of getting all the lads together to build the Grudgefort against the looming threat of Orenian pride. The enchantment of the cleaning tools in the guild so Dorimnur didn’t have to get his wife to do it anymore, much to her enjoyment. The addition of Ranchers to the Guild, which helped raise his Greymane Boar they adopted after slaying it’s mother in front of the ruins of an ancient dwarven cit; the baby they called Loki, who grew up to be rather fat and happy with the gluttonous Dorimnur.

 

 

 

And then of his last memories, moreso of just recalling of the past few years, was the Danungol infestation. The fights against the Brood, to clear the Deeproads for dwarven miners to delve further beyond. Dorimnur himself was at the forefront at the battles, hacking and slashing with his men, just as he did during the Inferi war, just as he did during the slaying of the Fae Beast. He even gave the nest a nice farewell, as he wielded the rose his son had given him at his 200th birthday, now enchanted, and conjuring a warhammer of pure azure flames, spinning through the air in an arc and exploding as it hit, burning the scourge away.