My Friends

I’ve known Vorn Kaldhad and Gesbar Fardelver since I was a young dwarf child. They’ve been with me every step of nearly every journey I’ve been on.

Now, Vorn comes from a high-ranking family who’re natural fighters and soldiers. From day one, it was obvious he’d be a military dwarf. I met him when a group of five children decided to mock me because of my family. Yes, we Feldstones are a strange bunch, but these lil’ scamps decided to throw rocks at me for absolutely no reason. I huddled up into a ball to avoid getting hit in the head, when I heard this voice shout out at the other children to stop. Now we dwarves aren’t the biggest, especially as children, but Vorn was still a giant back then. He towered above the other dwarves his whole life, and this day wasn’t any different. He stood in front of me and ordered the others to stop. They must’ve thought because there was one of him and five of them that the could take him. I’ve never seen a child tear through five other children with as much ease as he did. From that day on, we’ve been the best of friends.

Then there’s Gesbar. He was an orphan that the monastery adopted and raised. They taught him things from healing to reading to scrollwork. I didn’t meet him until I was 33 and in the military. One of the dwarves in the unit I was in was injured in training and we needed to take him to a healer. After luggin’ the dwarf to the monastery, I handed him off to a few of the monks there. They asked me to go with them as they prepared for surgery. Apparently, I needed to see what it takes to heal wounds. Now, I hadn’t even been the one to have injured that dwarf, but I decided I’d better just go with. To this day I am quite happy that I did. In the surgery room I saw Gesbar for the first time. He was in there barkin’ orders to the other monks and fixin’ this poor dwarf up. The fire in Gesbar’s belly was unlike anything I’d seen from one of the monks at the monastery before. After a short while, he finished the surgery and noticed me watchin’. He pulled me aside and in the sincerest and most composed manner apologized for his behavior. This little dwarf with such a passion to save this random dwarf’s life was someone I needed to know better. After a few more visits to the monastery on personal trips of “enlightenment,” I convinced him to go get a drink with Vorn and I. Soon after that, the three of us were inseparable.

Now, I’ve had many other friends in my life, but none have stuck with me like these two have. I’d not trade them for even the biggest chunk of gold in the world, well it’d have to be pretty big actually.

The History of Arindale

There’s no place like Arindale. Throughout my travels, I’ve been to the other two dwarven kingdoms, Nararuhm and Bhur Burim, and a host of various other cities. Arindale was the first dwarven kingdom founded by the earliest dwarves who set foot into Kholdrum. It started out as a small mining village but grew to the power it is today. There’ve been many Kings and Queens of the city over the thousands of years we dwarves have inhabited this region. We dwarves in Arindale are famous for our soldiers, artisans, brew masters, and our riches. We have a great relationship with the dwarves of Bhur Burim, but the those of Nararuhm are a different story.

Over 4,000 years ago, there was a bloody civil war between the dwarven kingdoms. The dwarves of Nararuhm thought that Arindale wasn’t worthy of its position in the realm of Kholdrum. They convinced the King of Bhur Burim to ally with them and usurp Arindale. What ensued was a long and bitter war where no one came out on top. Thousands of good dwarves from each of the kingdoms lost their lives in the senseless battle. It only stopped when Baern’s genius and skill of blacksmithing created weapons that changed the tide of the war. The dwarves of Bhur Burim realized their mistake and joined forces with Arindale to thwart the dwarves of Nararuhm. Arindale fought back the attackers with these new weapons of war and their new allies to force the kingdom of Nararuhm to concede defeat. A tentative treaty was formed and still remains to this day.

Arindale has continued to be a beacon of power in the realm. However, we don’t use that status to extort goods or servitude from the other valiant races of Kholdrum, but rather to help them. We send troops to support fight against the constant threat of the orcs along the eastern front. We also aid in providing protection, shelter, and any other services to those that need it. I’m proud to say that the great dwarven city of Arindale is my home.

Baern

Baern, the greatest dwarf in history, is the god of smithing. He was just a mere mortal like the rest of the dwarves in Arindale and through his sheer skill at his trade, he was elevated to godhood.

From the history books, it’s told that Baern was a lowborn dwarf belonging to a long-forgotten house of servants and farmers. He served in the military, as was still the custom thousands of years ago, but sought out a different path than those of his house after his tenure. He apprenticed with Forol, a great blacksmith of the time. Much is lost and unknown of the ways of the trade from that time, especially of Baern’s techniques. However, it’s known that Baern had a natural gift at the forge and he quickly exceeded his teacher.

Years go past and Baern’s status and renown grow. He aided Arindale in the civil war amongst the dwarven kingdoms, where his weapons helped to end the war. After this, his godhood was granted by Orimdod, the All-God himself. Legend says that Orimdod tasked Baern with creating a legendary weapon that had no rival. Baern worked tirelessly for five days to create the masterpiece in his long-lost forge, hidden somewhere below Arindale. After the fifth day, Baern called upon Orimdod to return and presented the All-God with the sword. No other mortal dwarf, man, elf, or any other race saw the blade for themselves. The only clue that we have is that the blade was magnificent enough to grant Baern a place amongst the other gods.

The last time he was seen by any of the dwarven race was soon after. He appeared before the King and his counsel to warn them of an impending threat that would threaten the very existence of Kholdrum. All that he left behind for a clue was a map. Then, with that, he was gone. None have discovered this threat, but it’s every King’s duty to keep a vigilant watch for whatever may come.

Baern is the reason I smith. His story fills me with immense pride. I take what I do with great importance and will not falter in my goal to find his fabled hammer.

How I Became a Blacksmith

After my years servin’ in the military, I wasn’t sure what to do. O’ course we dwarves have the option to stay and serve longer or move on to somethin’ else. I knew that staying in the military wasn’t something that I wanted to do, unlike Vorn. Gesbar decided to aid me in my search of a new endeavor.

I went through some odd occupations. There was even the time where I tried to be a monk like Gesbar, but for some reason the others didn’t appreciate my apparent boorish attitude, as Gesbar so nicely put it. So, I moved on an’ tried a few other things. I couldn’t cook very nice, nor could I carve statues. They always ended up looking like a large potato, couldn’t tell you why.

Then, one day, I came home from bein’ out and about tryin’ to find something to do, when I heard me grandad’s old forge roarin’ behind the house. When I was a child I’d go out and watch grandad forge, but after I went off to the military service, he got too old and stopped. At least that’s what the old dwarf told me. It was an odd thing then to hear the hammer striking against the anvil on this day.

I ventured into the old workshop and found a dwarf stoking the coals of the forge. This dwarf wasn’t me grandad, he had bright red hair, unlike the natural black hair of us Feldstones. I wanted to ask him what he was doin’ in here, but somethin’ held me back. The way this dwarf worked the metal was unlike anything I’d ever seen. I can’t tell you how long I sat there entranced by this artist and his creation, but after some time he finished his piece. It was a simple brooch for a cloak, but I’d never seen such a beautiful one in my life. The dwarf chuckled at my expression and tossed the brooch to me. His words will forever ring out in my mind, “Learn, Dunathen Feldstone. Carry on your family tradition.”

Then, I blinked, and he was gone. I remember runnin’ into the house and beggin’ me grandad to teach me the craft. I’ve never seen him so delighted as that day. Years later and now I’m heralded as one of the best, if not the best, smiths Arindale has to offer.

Orc Threat

Orcs. Vile, disgusting, evil, creatures they are. In my travels, I’ve met but one orc who didn’t exemplify these traits. That’s a story for another time though. See, here in Arindale, we get threats of goblins, trolls, and other creatures from the depths of the mines, but orcs aren’t something we see here often. They don’t have the fortitude to attack such a powerful place as Arindale. I’ve slew many an orc and never shied away from a fight with the filth, except for the first time I seen one.

It was about 15 years after my service with the military started and my unit and I were sent on a standard walkthrough of an abandoned mine system. Some poor dwarf child had wandered down the mineshaft after running away from home. A search party found him a few days later scared and rambling about some green creatures. We were selected to go and inspect the mine. I got stuck on rear guard duty as the unit went through tunnel after tunnel of the mineshaft. We didn’t find a thing for a few days.

Then, on the sixth day of the expedition, we got a whiff of somethin’ that smelt like burnt flesh and rot. We followed our noses, as much as it pained us. After a few hours o’ searchin’, lights flickered down one of the tunnel a ways. Some of the more hotheaded of the unit, includin’ Vorn, decided they’d just go right ahead and rush in. I came around the bend in the tunnel and saw this monstrous figure towering a foot or more above Vorn, who was a giant among dwarves. This thing was horrifying. The other dwarves clashed with other less menacing orcs and made quick work of them. But this behemoth, filled with some bestial rage, pushed Vorn aside and rushed towards me. I turned tail and retreated around the bend, not my proudest moment, but this thing was massive. Its footsteps rumbled behind me as I got out into the main tunnel. Why I did this, I don’t know, but I stopped to see the creature again. It burst through the tunnel and stared down at me. Afore I could run off again, Vorn chopped off the behemoth orcs legs and impaled it with his sword. The creature fell in front of me and bled out.

Now, my cowardice had a cost. As I ran away, the creature clubbed one of my brethren and crushed the poor dwarf’s chest. He died instantly, but his death was my fault. I’ve never lived that down, which is why I won’t back down from a fight anymore even if it means my own death. Someone’s life is depending on me.

Arindale’s Military

As is custom in Arindale, I spent 40 years of my life in the military like every other dwarf. Things were tough, as is to be expected, but I enjoyed every moment. The first five or so years were all about our training. We dwarves are a tough lot, but we’ve all got our limits. The toughest, smartest, and best of the dwarves get moved onto specialized units where they train. The more standard dwarves are put into the common infantry. Then, those who aren’t the most physically gifted go to do work in tactics or written texts and whatnot. O’ course big ol’ Vorn went to a specialized unit where I somehow ended up in as well.

Now, I’m a good fighter, as most of ye all know, but it wasn’t natural talent that got me there. I trained harder than any recruit in my unit to get to their level. The first day of training with the rest of the unit was terrible for me. The others easily put me on the ground with little effort. All of ‘em, except Vorn, said I only got there cause of my friendship with Vorn. It goes without saying that they all mocked me because of my family name, Feldstone, too.

After that first day, Vorn took me aside and we trained. We had to find my specific weapon that we dwarves all get paired with. Vorn’s was a large sword that he could chop his foes in half with. We tried quite a few things for me, hammers, swords, a halberd, even a larger axe, but none of them fit me. This went on for months until I finally started to improve with various weapons, but I still didn’t have that one. One day Vorn was pressing me hard. He cleaved through my shield and disarmed me of my short sword. I was down and almost defeated when I reached for the nearest things to me, two axes. My hands closed around the shafts of the axes and something felt right. It was as if the gods willed me to get my hands on these axes. I whirled my axes around and disarmed a shocked Vorn. The next moment, I’m standing above him with my axes held ready to strike.

I remember showing up for my units daily sparring session when I revealed my dual axes. They all laughed until I dispatched of every single one of them. From that moment on, I knew why I was put on that special unit.