Dwarven Pantheon

Moradin

Deep within the ancient caverns of old

Lit by the burning of Zuerstabar’s flame

Moradin's forge, the all-fathers might

Brought forth his chosen children by name

Made of the mountains, hills, and gold

Tempered like steel for work and war

Glory to gods in all their striving

Thus were forged the first of the dwarves

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Abbathor

Daggers of jewel and furs of the conquered

Lessons be warned to the careless and fools

Great master of greed the insatiable lust

Abbathor's fires shalt never be cooled

For where is the sin in ambition pure

Material wealth thus a sign of devotion

Vested is trust in the trove lords call

For what then is greed but faith put into motion

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Berronar Truesilver

For the revered mother of silver so true

There are none more worthy of Moradin's love

Matriarch of all and source of our rest

Lend us your grace and peace from above

Guide us back to your warm hearth from war

Lighting our way back from journeys unknown

For when we are in need of comfort and hope

Berronar our healer, our hearth, and our home

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Dumathoin

Dumathoin's great strength and guidance to ye

As ye delve into tunnels for treasure of lore

Make strong your strike as you toil and strive

The devoted and tireless shall have theirs and more

Guard of the dead, their honor upheld

And glory of the living whose hands do not fold

For safe are the dwarves under Dumathoin's eye

Keeper of secrets beneath mountains old

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Tharmekhûl

Tender to the forge, burn bright in these halls

Keep ablaze the fires in each dwarven chest

Zuerstabar burns at your beckoning call

May her forges burn hotter than all of the rest

The smiths of your name, we craft in your honor

Masterpieces made by the sweat of our brow

Take these small gifts we've formed in your fires

Look on with your favor o'er these toils now

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Clangeddin Silverbeard

The father of battle and valor incarnate

Lead us to glory, our finest hour of war

The giantslayer goblinbane and wrymslayer too

All monsters fear your twin axes of lore

May the blood of our foes flow like wine in your cup

And ancient halls echo with cheers of your fame

Throughout the world our enemies shall know

The power and terror of Clangeddin's name

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Vergadin

The merchant kings luck, may it find you fed well

Keeping pockets weighed down by silver and gold

Vergadin's grace, may chance find you in favor

Ale frothing your beard and kept warm in the cold

Glory and good favor of the Laughing Dwarf god

Bless'd be your coin purse and goods in your cart

Delight in the dealings of trade and find profit

May your hearth and your shop be as full as your heart