The Bronzeshapers and the Ironminers
There was a Dwarven patriarch by the name XX Bronzeminer. He was wealthy and well respected by the members of his stronghold. He had two sons and 6 daughters. His children grew up to be adults and married. One brother, XX took his family along with several of his sisters and their families and left ### to form their own stronghold. They found a large vein of iron and eventually came to be known as the Ironminer Clan. XX also joined his family and the families of his remaining sisters and went off to form there own stronghold as well. Their clan became known as Bronzeshapers due to their high skill with molding bronze and other metals. Time went on and all three strongholds prospered, each supporting the other while also having friendly rivalries. Then came the time when XX Bronzeminer lay on his deathbed. His children were at his side when he spoke his final words. He patted the pickaxe that had been the source of their prosperity, "Let this pick show all the strength of our clans." With that he passed into the arms of Divine Winter leaving his children to ponder his words. It wasn't until after the funeral rites were all observed that the children of XX came together to discuss what their father had said. They came to the conclusion that the pick should go into possession of the strongest of the family so all would know 'the strength of the clans'. A great debate began to rage between the Bronzeshapers and the Ironminers about who should possess the pick. Just when it seemed like all would come to blows, XXX, youngest daughter of XXX, spoke up and suggested they hold a contest of some sort and the winner of said contest would lay claim to the pick. The heads of the clans saw the wisdom of this and soon arranged for a contest of XX and hold it at the stonghold of their father. For the next five hundred years the clans would come together at XX every midsummer and hold a massive celebration along with the XX, making a big show of awarding the pickaxe to the winning clan. One more friendly rivalries grew but they were the closest of the Dwarven Clans in all the Irontrie Mountains. Then in XXX strife drove a bloody axe between the clans. Stories about the incident differ between each clan and have changed through the years to the point where no one is sure exactly what happened. Some say one accused the other of cheating while others say there were unforgiveable insults given.
The battle had been brewing for many years. The blood feud between the Bronzeshapers and the Ironminers had been growing for generations. Then the lasts straw finally broke (change to mining saying)... The final ingot overloaded the cart at last in a XXXX tavern. Groups from either clan were deep in their cups when insults started to be slung between them. A fight broke out which spilled out into the streets. When at last the guards managed to break the two groups apart, one Bronzeshaper was found bloody on the ground, dead with a knife in the back. Soon after both clans prepared for war. The grounds the two clans met at was once a place of celebration between the two. Now it would be where kin would fight kin and blood would be spilled. The two groups had barely a hundred souls each, though all were wearing the best armor and wielding the strongest weapons they had. Warriors sized each other up from across the field, hefting their weapons and slinging insults with their brethren. When the final words could be taken no longer the two lines charged at each other. Two battleaxe wielding warriors cashed together and a violent dual ensued. It was apparent that both matched each other in skill. One swung left while the other dodged before swinging right. They clashed together, grunts and insults accentuated by blows rebounding off shields. At last they both came in low, blades cutting deep into their thighs. Both collapsed with angered screams. The battle around them began to move on, leaving them in the blood-soaked mud to nurse their wounds while they continued to trade more insults. When they realized no one was coming to bandage each other up they began to peel off the piece of armor in the way to bandage the wounds as best they could. It was hard though. Grumblings about no one coming to assist were met with agreements from the other side. Once the battle fury wore off they were both left tired. They took off their helmets and started to complain about the whole mess. As fast as they had fought they started laughing together. In the end, one asked the other if they wanted to get out of there and go get a beer. Agreement was reached and they hobbled off the field.
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