Dwarf

Heart and Stone

"In the beginning, there was the Deepforge, a realm where molten rivers flowed through veins of shining ore and the earth's heartbeat echoed in our very souls. We, the Dwarven kindred, built great cities beneath the mountains, our halls illuminated by the forge's glow and the echoes of our hammers shaping steel. The Stoneheart, the fiery heart of our world, blessed us with immortality and a hunger for knowledge that could never be sated. We delved deep into the earth, unlocking the secrets of the mountains, mastering the dance of fire and steel, our guilds strong, our traditions as ancient as the rock itself.
But pride, they say, comes before the fall. Some say it was a machine, a contraption of metal and light that was meant to send us beyond the skies. Others whisper of a gateway, a portal meant to bridge our realm with others, a yearning for power and knowledge that consumed our greatest minds.
No matter the cause, the earth shuddered, a wound tearing open beneath our feet. Darkness surged forth, not the familiar darkness of our mountain homes, but a chilling void that devoured light, silenced the whispers of the Stoneheart, and turned our greatest creations against us. Metal twisted into monstrous shapes, shadows danced in our forges, and a terrible madness gripped the strongest of our warriors.
Our cities crumbled, swallowed by a darkness that consumed even the memory of their grandeur. A few of us, guided by a vision whispered from some place beyond, gathered at the foot of the Mountain of Ancients – a peak that pierced the very heavens of the Deepforge. There, our High Runemaster, the last remaining longbeard with hair as white as snow, carved a last desperate rune into the mountainside, opening a gateway into the unknown.
It was a harrowing journey, a path fraught with peril, a tunnel of swirling colors and echoes of our dying world. Many faltered, consumed by the visions of their fallen kin, their spirits consumed by the darkness that chased us. But we few emerged into a new dawn, a sky ablaze with light and a world of wind and blue skies.
Yrdde, they called this place. We found solace in its mountains, so much like our own, carving out new homes, our hammers ringing out once more, the flame of our forges as bright as our spirit.
But the Stoneheart shard we carry within our chests whispers a warning, a memory of the darkness that lingers. We know that what destroyed our world lurks somewhere beyond, its hunger still unsated. We prepare, generation after generation, honing our skills, forging weapons of iron and wood, for we are the guardians now, the last remnants of the Deepforge. And should that ancient darkness ever find its way to this new home, we will stand ready to meet it with the fury of a thousand forges, the unwavering will of those who have stared into the abyss and emerged, scarred but unbroken, into the light.
This, young ones, is our burden. This is our legacy. This is the fire that burns within every dwarf, the echo of the Stoneheart that guides us, the hope that fuels our unwavering spirit, and the promise whispered in the dark – that we will not fall again, not while the embers of the Deepforge still burn bright within our souls." - Mica Earthenfoot, last rememberer of the Deepforge

History

Recorded Dwarven history begins not on Yrdde, but in a realm they call the Deepforge, a world of towering mountains, churning lava flows, and intricate networks of subterranean cities carved deep into the planet’s molten core.
They were master craftsmen, miners, metalworkers, and artisans - each individual dedicating their centuries-long lifespans to achieving unmatched skill and perfection within their chosen craft. Guilds governed every aspect of life, their traditions as unyielding as the stone that surrounded them, their pursuit of knowledge and mastery their greatest passion.
Then, catastrophe struck. The precise details of what shattered the Deepforge remain a fragmented collection of whispers, passed down through generations in hushed tones, for even the bravest dwarf shudders at the memory of that terrible time.
Some tales speak of a monstrous fissure opening in the earth, consuming entire cities in a maelstrom of lava and superheated steam. Others tell of an invasion from a realm of shadow and madness, creatures of pure darkness who feasted upon light, consuming the very heart of the Deepforge.
Regardless of the cause, only a few hundred dwarves survived, fleeing through a gateway – a portal torn open in the fabric of reality by the most skilled of their mages – into a new world: Yrdde.
It is said that as their world crumbled the Deepforge’s core shattered and was broken into hundreds of fragments. Each surviving dwarf carried a fragment with them through the gateway, a last desperate hope to preserve their essence. As their mortal forms passed through the gateway and were exposed to limitless aetherial energies these stones fused with them. Every dwarf, even those born on Yrdde, is said to still carry this fragment within themselves, something they call the 'Stoneheart'.

The Great Holds

While the initial group of survivors settled within the mountainous region where they first arrived, it wasn't long before many were interested in exploring this new world they found themselves in. Over time, many moved out of their initial home and, in mapping the lands nearby, discovered a vast forest at the base of the mountains. These great trees, with canopies so thick they blocked the sunlight, invoked memories of the great stone ceilings of their mountain home. In the end, many of the explorers decided to attempt to build a new community within the forest, bending their infinite capacity for patience and willingness to master new skills to woodworking and plant tending. It was slow going, but over the centuries the new hold grew and prospered.
Runesholm

By far the more populous of the two Holds, this settlement is a masterpiece of stonework and artistry, vast labyrinths of interconnected chambers, glowing forges, and intricately carved halls. Dwarves of this Hold value practicality and durability, their architecture designed to withstand the passage of time and reflect their unwavering resolve.
They excel in forging weapons and armor, carving intricate runestones, and crafting machines powered by a blend of ancient clockwork and yrddestone. Their mining operations extend deep into the heart of the mountains, extracting both ores and precious Yrddestones that fuel their economy and, through careful trades with outsiders, grant them a degree of independence from other factions.

Everbranch

Built within the Deepwood forest, the Everbranch Hold stretches through and between dozens of massive trees. The dwarves of this Hold are master woodworkers, and have hollowed out these trees to build intricate living quarters within. Their skill is such that the trees themselves seem unharmed by this intrusion. Further strucutres are built atop great platforms connected to the upper canopies, and countless bridges connect everything together.
Dwarves of this Hold are unmatched in their mastery of archery, traps, and guerilla warfare, and they are elusive enough that most humans living on the edge of the Deepwood believe the forest to be haunted.

Appearance

The dwarves of Yrdde are known for their short stature, their average height ranges from four to five feet, but their physical presence far exceeds their stature. They possess broad, muscular shoulders, thick chests, and arms forged for the demanding work of mining, metalwork, and woodworking.
They have long, furry ears, capable of picking up the subtlest of sounds echoing through mines or deep forests. Even more striking are the bone horns that often protrude from their foreheads - thought to be a subtle touch of the Aetherial Flow upon their lineage. These horns, which vary in size and shape from individual to individual, curve and twist like ancient tree branches, some polished to a gleaming sheen, others intricately carved with runes and symbols reflecting clan lineages or individual achievements.
While most dwarves are born with these distinctive horns, a small percentage are not. This is considered a significant misfortune for the affected families, viewed as a sign of disfavor from the spirits of the earth or, in hushed whispers, a potential weakness in their resistance to the Aetherial Flow’s unpredictable currents.
Dwarven Horns

The art of horn carving, a tradition as old as the Deepforge itself, is a blend of practicality, aesthetic expression, and a celebration of their mastered skills.
Mountain Dwarves file their horns down to a manageable length, usually stopping at around six or seven inches. This prevents painful collisions in the cramped tunnels and mine shafts, allowing them to navigate their underground world with ease.
Deepwood Dwarves embrace a more extravagant approach to horn carving, allowing their horns to grow and split into elaborate antler-like formations. This can take dozens, if not hundreds of years.
Skilled artisans, using miniature rotary tools powered by finely tuned clockwork or yrddestone cores, carve intricate patterns into the polished bone - geometric designs, clan symbols, runes signifying their profession or guild affiliation, or even scenes from dwarven legends and myths.
After the carving and filing, leather, silk, or metal bands are often wrapped around the horns, not only adding a touch of personal flair but also preventing further splitting or damage. These bands might be plain or intricately tooled, some displaying family crests, others bearing charms and amulets believed to offer protection or good luck.
For those with the coin to spare, a variety of natural oils, extracted from plants found in the deeper tunnels or traded with those who dwell in the forest above, can be used to polish and darken the horns to a deep, rich luster.

Culture

Dwarven society revolves around Guilds – organizations dedicated to specific crafts, each with their own strict hierarchies, ancient traditions, and a dedication to upholding the highest standards. To become a master within one's chosen Guild is the highest aspiration, a journey that can take centuries of dedicated practice and often requires undertaking perilous quests for rare materials or forgotten knowledge.
For dwarves, the pursuit of mastery within their chosen craft is not simply a profession, it’s a form of spiritual expression. They view skill and precision as gifts from the Stoneheart, a legacy passed down through generations. Every object, from a finely forged blade to a meticulously carved wooden flute, is infused with a piece of their soul. Every weapon and piece of armor crafted is important, regardless of its quality. Every dwarf community, no matter its size, has a structure dedicated to storing the vast quantities of war supplies that its craftsmen create.
Despite their preference for isolation, some adventurous dwarves venture beyond their homeland to explore the wider world. These individuals often integrate into human societies, adopting local customs and traditions. To better assimilate, some may even choose to shave down their horns, although this practice is not universal.
In human lands, dwarves are generally respected for their craftsmanship and engineering prowess. They enjoy more rights and privileges compared to other non-human races, such as the Chimera, and are often valued for their contributions to trade, technology, and the arts. They are magically deaf, unable to utilize even the most basic of magical skills, but are also incredibly resilient to any magical effects. This can both aid and harm, as they can withstand many magical attacks with ease but cannot be healed by magic.

"Dwarves, darlings… They're a fascinating paradox, really. They carve magnificent cities out of solid rock, tinker with machines that rival even the Empire's finest magitech, and brew a damn fine mead. But they also hold a deep reverence for the natural world, those bearded, horn-headed enigmas. It’s a bizarre mix of hard-nosed practicality and earthy spirituality. Don't let the gruff exterior fool you, though. Cross a dwarf, disrespect their traditions, or (gods forbid) mess with their tools, and you'll find yourself staring down a battleaxe with enough runes carved on it to power a small airship. They're a force to be reckoned with, these dwellers of the stone and forest, a potent reminder that roots run into the deepest mountains, and sometimes those roots are tangled with iron and a fiery temper. Always handle them with care, my dears, and bring a good bottle of spirits as an offering. Trust me, it’s good for your health." - E Dawnstrider