Dwarves
Architects of the Impossible, Hoarders of Secrets, and the Unyielding Masters of Stubbornness.
"There is nothing more dependable than a dwarf with a plan. Unless, of course, it’s a dwarf with a grudge"
Dwarves Exist. And That Is, Frankly, the Foundation of All Things.
Where the Infinite Beyond is vast, shifting, and ill-inclined toward permanence, dwarves represent a rare and defiant constant. Universes collapse. Civilisations rise and fall. But somewhere beneath the rubble, there is always a dwarven stronghold—still intact, still stubborn, still slightly offended that the apocalypse arrived without proper planning.
They are the stone-shapers, the forge-masters, the immovable architects of survival. And they will never, ever let you forget it.
While other species drift or adapt, dwarves endure—not because they resist change, but because they refuse to be shaped by anything they haven't personally chiselled. Despite their reputation for tradition, they are anything but uniform. Like ore through stone, their cultures diverge with pressure and time.
Some rule beneath the earth. Others crest the peaks of fractured worlds. A few ride mechanical siege beasts through active war zones. All agree on one core truth: everything can be built better.
And if it can't? It simply isn't finished yet. — S.N.
What They Look Like
Dwarves are short, broad, and built with the same aesthetic principles used in fortress design: density, resilience, and excellent bearding.
Rarely taller than five feet, dwarves are defined by mass over height—muscle, bone, and the kind of practical stubbornness that causes mountains to move out of the way.
Skin tones vary from earthy greys and copper-bronze to metallic glints reminiscent of ore-veined stone. Their eyes gleam like buried gems—sharp, reflective, occasionally luminous (usually for practical, not magical, reasons).
Facial hair remains a cultural touchstone. Beards are braided, armoured, bejewelled, or fireproofed according to regional style. Those without beards (by nature or choice) often compensate with elaborate hairstyles, tattoos, or eyebrows that defy wind resistance.
Their hands are hardened from work—hammer-calloused, rune-scored, ink-stained. Their fashion follows suit: durable leathers, reinforced tunics, functional adornments. Armour is worn like a second skin. Tools and weapons are treated with the reverence others reserve for family heirlooms. Sometimes they are both.
A dwarf without a visible tool is either sleeping or in disguise.
Dwarves Across the Infinite Beyond
Dwarves are not a monolith. (Though they do build them.) Below are the most frequently observed cultural archetypes:
The Deep Keepers
"Our Foundations Are Older Than Your Gods."
The most traditional lineages. Builders of subterranean strongholds that outlast planets. They revere ancestry, craftsmanship, and structural redundancy. Outsiders are tolerated. Poor masonry is not.
The Forgeborn
"Perfection Is a Process. And That Process Is on Fire."
Engineers, inventors, chaos-adjacent pyromancers of metallurgy. Their forges emit light, heat, and unregulated magical side-effects. They consider explosions an essential phase of progress.
The Stone-Wanderers
"A Home Is Not a Place. It's What You Build."
Nomadic master-craftsfolk who travel Threadworlds seeking challenge and material. Once settled, they will immediately begin constructing a fortress, brewery, or both.
The Meadborn
"A Story Without Ale Is Barely Worth Telling."
Brewers, storytellers, and cultural anchors. They fight well but feast better. Every clan tale ends with either a toast or a brawl. Occasionally both.
The Doomkeepers
"We Stand Between What Was and What Remains."
Archivists of ruin. Guardians of lost strongholds. Their duty is remembrance, their presence often misinterpreted as grim. They are not pessimists. They are historians.
The Overlords
"It’s Not Conquering If They Needed Better Leadership Anyway."
Empire-builders. Economists. Diplomats with siege weapons. They believe dwarven efficiency should be globally implemented. Frequently successful. Rarely subtle.
Dwarves and the Inn
Dwarves rarely arrive at the Inn by accident. More often, they appear with tools in hand, a blueprint for structural improvements no one requested, and at least three barrels of their own ale.
Some treat it as neutral ground for trade and argument. Others see it as a historical site that hasn’t been properly reinforced. The Library tolerates them. The Garden does not.
Threads and Resonance
Dwarven Threads hum with a deep, resonant stability. While not as magically reactive as elven Threads, they are famously resistant to Narrative Drift and possess exceptional recall—especially for debts.
Their presence tends to reinforce the structure of nearby Realms, making them excellent stabilisers in unstable stories and poorly constructed metaphysics.
It is not coincidence that many Realm recoveries begin with the phrase: “Then the dwarves showed up.” — S.N.
Common Dwarven Quirks
Field Notes for Threadwalkers and Aspiring Roleplayers
- Carrying tools “just in case” (cases include diplomacy)
- Fixing furniture mid-conversation
- Insisting on correct stone terminology in casual speech
- Refusing to run unless the building is on fire—and only their building counts
- Brewing their own drink and judging yours silently
- Holding ceremonial grudges longer than bloodlines
- Pretending to hate elves, while saving all their best insults for them
These habits are deeply engrained. And usually engraved. — S.N.
Rare Lineages & Variants
Some dwarves are shaped by stranger Realms—skyforged smiths who temper steel in cloud-forges, emberborn who never touch stone yet burn with ancestral memory, even a rumoured clan that mines ideas from dreams.
I cannot confirm all of them. I can confirm dwarves have filed family records for each.
If there is paperwork, it probably happened. — S.N.
Dwarves and the Principle of Permanence
Dwarves build for eternity. This is not hyperbole. It is threat, promise, and philosophy.
They do not make for the moment. They construct for legacy. For survival. For the deep, unspoken belief that everything else might fail—but their work must not.
Their memory is archival. Their honour is binding. Their grudges calcify like sediment. If you owe a dwarf a debt, pay it. If they owe you one, record it. It may be settled by your great-grandchild.
Final Thoughts
Dwarves are not just survivors.
They are not just builders.
They are the reason anything still stands when the sky falls.
They are a cultural cornerstone—as enduring as their stonecraft, as sharp as their chisels, and as impossible to move as a drunk Doomkeeper reciting the ancestral line of every nail in his axe handle.
And if you think you're going to change their minds?
Bring a bigger hammer.
At A Glance
What They Are
Dwarves are the bedrock upon which stories refuse to collapse. They are the builders, the record-keepers, the practical idealists with blueprints in one hand and grudges in the other. They do not believe anything is truly finished until it's overbuilt and reinforced—and even then, they’ll probably add another support beam just to be safe.
Where They Are Found
Anywhere with stone underfoot and something to improve. Beneath mountains, atop walls, in wandering caravans or sprawling industrial capitals. If it can be quarried, forged, or fortified, a dwarf is likely already arguing about how it should have been done properly.
How They See Themselves
As civilisation’s cornerstone—its architects, its accountants, and its custodians. Dwarves see themselves as the reason things don’t fall apart. They measure time in generations, loyalty in ledgers, and quality in how many collapses a structure can survive without comment.
How Others See Them
Stubborn. Gruff. Indispensable. Admired for their skill, feared for their patience in argument, and revered for the ale they don’t share lightly. Their generosity is only matched by the complexity of their documentation. Most people stop reading at Clause 14. Dwarves do not.
Lifespan
Long. Very long. Long enough to watch empires fall twice, and still not sign off on the final invoice. The oldest dwarves may indeed turn to stone. Some say this is metaphor. Others say they’re guarding vault doors and just haven’t moved in a while.
Attitude Toward Mortals
Dwarves do not condescend. They correct. Mortals are seen as well-meaning chaos with legs—valuable but in need of structure. Dwarves will help, often unsolicited, and then lecture you on why they had to.
Unique Traits
Exceptional artisans, tenacious traders, and the only species capable of weaponising their own bureaucracy. Dwarves sense flawed work, unfair deals, and wobbly chairs from across a room. They build things to last—including opinions.
Biggest Weaknesses
They are immovable—philosophically and sometimes physically. Once convinced, a dwarf cannot be budged by logic, force, or pleas for common sense. They prefer their solutions slow, thorough, and backed by seven redundant safety mechanisms.
The Last Word
Dwarves endure. Their walls, their work, their memory—they are the parts of history that hold everything else together. If you want to impress one, bring blueprints. If you want to anger one, suggest skipping the foundation.
I laughed more often than I probably should have. Very well written, now I feel tiny with my own dwarves xD
"Every great story starts with HOLD MY BEER!"