Dwarves

When the world was nearly rent asunder by the Calamity, the dwarves of Tal’Dorei disappeared underground to wait out the worst of the conflict. Many dwarven citadels once dotted the subterranean world, but over the centuries, they dwindled, either merging together or falling into decadence and ruin. In the centuries following the Calamity, these dwarf clans, isolated beneath the surface of Exandria, gathered into a single, steadfast redoubt: Kraghammer. In one way or another, just about every dwarf in Tal’Dorei can trace their family back to that great city-state.
The mountainous stronghold still stands as the heart of settlement in the Cliffkeep Mountains, and many dwarves consider it a place all their folk should visit at least once a decade. Kraghammer’s legendary status gives it a highly conservative, unchanging culture, but even so, the dwarf people are far from monolithic.
Some dwarves like to distinguish themselves as hill or mountain dwarves, based on whether or not they grew up outside or inside of Kraghammer. Gurdhe, a Dwarvish word translated into Common as “hill,” colloquially means “beyond the mountains” in most Dwarvish dialects. And many dwarves, even the so-called mountain-dwellers renowned for living their entire lives underground, make journeys out into the “hills” of Tal’Dorei to trade, gain artistic inspiration, or visit the children of long-dead friends they bonded with decades or centuries prior.

Kraghammer Dwarves

The culture of Kraghammer is one of isolationism and tradition—even to the point of xenophobia. As a common saying goes: “Those who live beneath the mountain are as unmoving as the mountain itself.” Whether they're dwarves, gnomes, or folk of other ancestries, the people who dwell in Kraghammer typically embody this stubborn, dogmatic stoicism.
Tradition. Kraghammer society is steeped in a culture of dwarves protecting their own, and those dwarves’ traditions of meticulous chronicling, geometrically precise artistry, dynastic great houses, and resilience against even the greatest of threats has proved itself a central pillar of their society. For long centuries, new peoples and new ideas in Kraghammer meant potential danger, threatening the death of monarchs and incursion by nefarious subterranean infiltrators. The first time that Kraghammer proudly opened its gates to a new people, the oligarch Warren Drassig led all of Tal’Dorei into the greatest war since the Age of Arcanum. The city’s relative safety during the assault of the Chroma Conclave only cemented its people’s belief that isolation is strength.
Change. In the present day, many of Kraghammer’s residents feel stifled by its dominant culture, which continues to be insular and suspicious of outsiders and new ideas. In the past few decades, a tide of refugees fleeing crises such as the Wittebak disaster and the Cinder King’s attack on Emon have brought new voices and perspectives to the formerly unyielding halls of Kraghammer. These people now call the dwarves’ ancestral realm their home, and many of Kraghammer’s dwarves have seen the innovation and transformation that new residents can bring. Change comes slowly in Kraghammer, but it does come in time.

Hill Travelers

Dwarves might leave their underground realm for myriad reasons, with many making homesteads in the foothills of the Cliffkeep Mountains or venturing even farther afield. Hill dwarves who left the mountain themselves, or who had parents or more distant ancestors who did so, have a certain shared camaraderie in their connection to the open sky above, the sun and wind around them, and the soft loam beneath their feet.
Exploration. It’s common for dwarves who live upon the hills and fields of Tal’Dorei to wander throughout their lives, never putting down roots for more than a decade or two at a time out of their centuries-long lives. Dwarves with tanned skin and sun-bleached hair are so common a sight in taverns across the Dividing Plains that the Dwarvish word gurdheledr, translated as “hill travelers,” has come to mean “mercenary” or “bounty hunter” as commonly as it refers to simple wanderers.
Community. Dwarves are a common sight in cities such as Emon and Westruun, and even in smaller towns across central Tal’Dorei. Not unlike mountain-dwelling dwarves, these city dwellers are often as unmoving as a granite boulder on a rock shelf—unable to be budged unless given a tremendous push. Dwarves typically adopt the culture of wherever they live, though their long lives sometimes make them more resistant to social change than shorter-lived peoples.

Duergar of Emberhold

Deep beneath Tal’Dorei is an underground realm lit only by magelight, magma flows, luminescent creatures and fungi, and the roaring fires of duergar forges. It is thought that a group of dwarves delved far into the depths of Exandria countless centuries ago, predating even the chronicles of Kraghammer. Whether by choice or by necessity, they made a home in the caverns they explored there. Something about the magic that suffuses their eerie realm changed the deep dwarves—who are called the duergar now. That name was originally an epithet, bestowed by the mountain dwarves who rediscovered and battled those deep dwarves, but the duergar now wear it with pride.
Survival. The deep caverns of Tal’Dorei are an inhospitable place, filled with creatures whose aberrant forms defy imagination and whose alien minds reject mortal morality. The duergar became hardened by their struggle for survival, and their rejection at the hands of the Kraghammer dwarves hardened their hearts forever. The smiths of the Emberhold do not forge art or works of beauty—only weapons and armor to turn back the onslaught of those who wish to see them dead.
Alliance. The duergar have suffered alone for so long, hating all and hated by all. Nevertheless, in the undercurrents of the Emberhold, the idea spreads that there must be more to life than fire and death. Many duergar nurture a secret hope of finding some way to ally with their other dwarf kin—if only someone were brave enough to reach out a hand without fear of it being cut off.