The Fall of the Icemen

Grasping at life past the end of their age, the Icemen turned to those who were to inherit the next, and tried to seize their future for themselves.

In the advent of the Age of Essence, the Icemen were struggling to keep their empire afloat. While their bodies were strong and towering, they healed slowly and could not keep together without cold or magic. And while their magic was great, it lacked the stamina to keep up with the changing world. It was in desperation that they found the Dwarves, a minuscule race of magically incompetent fleshlings, but ones that were stubborn, and that could endure the heat and strain of labor. To them, it was as if the world had given them a gift.
The enslaving of Dwarvenkind served to perpetuate their empire, giving them a sustainable source of labor. These mortals they could work to the bone without expending a bit of their power, while keeping them in line with the threat of the same. The Dwarves, for their part, endured admirably, but never forgot the crimes upon them. It is said that their spirits never broke even in servitude, with fathers kindling children with a reminder that this was not the way of the world. The Icemen were impressed with their new servants' abilities, and many took their work without complaint to mean they were resigned or perhaps even content with their lot in life.
In time, the Icemen found it more effective to give the Dwarves less supervision in their work. Many considered themselves benevolent masters, allowing this weaker race to work for the higher cause of a stronger one. This facade broke at times, of course, as some Dwarves escaped even is this early time and took refuge to the north or south of the empire. For the most part, however, they considered these runaways to be an anomaly, proven by the amazing work of those who remained. Over time, Dwarves became employed to perform all sorts of labor that the Icemen were loathe to do, from erecting buildings to forging equipment.

For their silent work, the Icemen rewarded the Dwarves with their words. And with those words, the Dwarves were no longer silent.

In time, the work the Dwarves were trusted with increased, and they were taught new crafts by the Icemen. The last of these crafts turned out to be the art of writing, or more specifically the art of etching runes. They showed great promise with this language, producing myriad artifacts for their masters, some innovations even coming as a pleasant surprise to them. In secret, however, the Dwarves were honing their craft for another reason. This only increased their toil, as they had to work just as diligently for the Icemen to avoid suspicion while still working for own sake as well.
While this illusion of subservience had been maintained for centuries, it would not be long before the cracks became impossible to ignore. The leader of the Icemen, a being of such cruelty that he earned the moniker of The Iceblood Emperor, wished to see Dwarven runecraft for himself (against the warnings of his advisers, some legends say). He ordered the forging of a blade fit for a warlord of his stature and reputation. The finest Dwarven runesmiths, given immense resources to work with and with hatred in their hearts, forged just such a blade. A blade cursed for senseless violence and madness, a blade of the feeble and foolish.
When the Iceblood Emperor received his blade, he was insulted and outraged, unable to put down the blade which was said to fuse to his red, icy hand. However, the Dwarves, by most accounts, had played their hand too early. The Emperor's spiritual might was able to overcome the curse, and his rage, rather than being senseless, was turned upon those who had attempted to dispose of him. While centuries of leaving their servants to their own devices granted them autonomy, the weapons they had amassed and the dwellings they had to defend had limited strength in the wake of the directed fury of their former masters.

One by one, disasters fell upon them. Glaciers cracked, storms rocked the shores, and magic failed them. "Why have we come undone?", the Icemen pleaded to the heavens.
The Bearer of the Burden remained silent. Its people had already spoken for it; they already had their answer.

And so, all that was left to the Dwarves was to endure. In their fury, the Icemen had erred. Turning against those who had kept their empire afloat for centuries for this transgression ultimately proved to be their undoing. Their machines wore down, their weapons dulled, and their lands, stabilized by their magical structures, started to fall apart around them. They had believed, perhaps, that putting their servants in their place would be swift, that the traitors would be turned over easily. What they failed to anticipate is that they had invoked the wrath of a god.
The Bearer of the Burden had taken interest in the struggle of the Dwarves, and it was this act of ungrateful violence by those who had so long lived lavishly upon their backs that drove it to intervene. While the Icemen were used to using their magic to discipline their servants, they found their spells failing when they needed them most. By the time they had realized their mistake, the collapse of their empire was inevitable. This collapse fed on itself, leading to panic, desertion, and betrayal among the once proud elemental beings. There was no great battle for freedom, it is said, but an escape from the destruction of an empire.
While this event granted freedom to the Dwarves, its ripples were felt far further than their own history. The empire's fall lead to a dramatic shift in climate as the magical influence upon it receded, starting numerous other events in both Ristshan and Nalanosa. The disaster left the remaining Icemen to flee to the Plane of Water. Some, realizing their folly in the wake of ruin, remained within The Eye in secluded repentance for their race's crimes against both their subordinates and nature. But for the Dwarves, this history has always been a tale of perseverance and survival, which they hold in their hearts to this day.