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Old 10-17-2009, 01:27 AM
Stieny Stieny is offline
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Posts: 17
Registered: May 2000
posted 03-06-2002 02:23 AM Click Here to See the Profile for Staran Edit/Delete Message Reply w/Quote It was a brisk day in the land of Narmir. The wind blew gently throughout the land, and the snow glistened ever so slightly on the mountains. High atop the mountains a castle rose, nearly meeting the sky. The Eastern Range stood as a prominent sign throughout the realm. Deep inside the castle walls the bustling of a midwife was the highest priority to King Rangdal.

The king paced frantically back and forth in front of the door leading to Marriana?s private chambers. He wiped the sweat from his brow as the screams from the room intensified. Soon after they cry of a baby fell upon the hush of the kingdom.

?Alas? he said to himself . ?I pray that the seed of life brings forth the heir to this kingdom.?

The door stayed closed. The baby had a healthy wail, yet no one came to the door to retrieve the king and grant him his stay with the new heir to his thrown. He listened closely, and still heard Marriana within the room. He pressed his ear upon the door, and soon to his surprise, he heard the sound of another wail.

?She bares two at one time?? the king thought

Soon after, the midwife opened the door and beckoned the king within the chambers. Marriana lay silently in bed, swaddling two newborns. She lay exhausted, but requested the king to her side. Before the king lay the love of his life, holding in each arm a son. Two sons.

The new day brought much rejoicing. The king held a day of celebration upon the birth of his heirs. The dwarves danced in the streets for the new found happiness of their king. Bards burst out with song on each street corner, harking the coming of the newborns. The streets bustled with excitement as the day drew to night. A messenger was seen scurrying through the streets to the local guilds. He walked in and found the artisan he was seeking. He handed the scroll to the artesian and quickly dismissed himself. The artesian read the scroll:

Dir Sir,

Today is a special day, and alas, a special day calls for special precipice. I ask you kindly to visit me in the throne room to discuss a matter that I think you will find quite rewarding.

King Rangdal

As dusk prevailed, the artesian sat before the king. The king sat upon his throne rubbing two gold coins between his fingers. The artisan watched carefully as the king pursed his lips.

?You are a fine tradesman, and a gifted craftsman. I have asked you here because you are the finest in the land. Your reputation precedes you, and your work; well, let me just say, I am astounded. I hold between my fingers two gold coins. I see that you are very interested in these coins. Alas, the gold coins will not be yours.?

A flash of disappointment fell over the artisan?s face. He suddenly felt the urge to flee the king.

The king let out a deep loud laugh.
?Ha ha! Please, do not be upset. I am a man of my honor, and compensation will be yours.?

The king nods to the guard at his right, and the guard throws a large pouch at the artisan. The artisan catches the pouch and peeks into it. The inside of the pouch is glistening with gold. The man?s eyes grow, and his smile broadens.

?One thousand gold coins from the coffers are yours, but for a simple request. I ask for you to create not one, but two of your greatest masterpieces. I ask you to make two pendants, identical as my sons, and identical in their beauty. It shall hold the crest of The Eastern Range, and it shall capture the eye of all of Narmir. These pendants shall be seen across all the land, and hold the reverence they so deserve.?

?I am speechless sire? the artisan replied. ?I do humbly accept your offer, and I hope to provide you with something more than you expect.?

?I have the greatest faith in you. Make haste, and your name shall be written in the history books. You will be known by all dwarves, young and old alike.?

The artisan took leave, and was soon running through the streets. He arrived home and soon set to work on the many drafts he would make designing the pendants. He worked well into the night. Pieces of crumpled parchment soon littered the floor around him. Each stroke of his quill was cautious, full of thought. Soon, the candle flickered, and the artisan was asleep at his drawing table.

?Glick! Glick! What are you doing? It is well after sunrise, and here you lay. What ever shall I do with you? To work you lazy fool, to work!?

Glick?s wife hurriedly rushed him out of the door.

Glick gathered together all of the parchments he managed to grab before his hasty exit from home. He looked through each of them meticulously. From each draft he took the best, and came up with the final plan for the pendants.

For an entire week Glick worked. He chipped, he cut, he polished. No detail was overlooked. Soon the artisan held in each hand an identical pendant. He held them up to the light to look at them. His heart pumped wildly in his chest. This was what all men dream of. A chance to make one thing, and have it culminate to their life?s work.

This part of his work was over, but he did promise to produce something very special for the king and his sons. He packed the pendants in the finest linens that he had, and made preparations for the journey that lay ahead. He visited the stable and claimed his steed. He lay his precious items well within the saddlebags ever so cautiously. Soon he was off to the High Elf capitol to seek out his young friend Golgoth.

After half a day?s travel, Glick arrived at the gates of the city of scholars and mages. He stabled his horse and visited the tavern for a quick pint of ale. As he shook off his weariness from the road, he soon consumed a few more pints of ale than intended. Minutes turned into hours, and he suddenly remembered why he had come. The ale certainly was a delight, but he did have more important matters to attend to.

Glick scurried down the road, as fast as a nearly drunken dwarf could scurry. He soon arrived at the door of Golgoth, apprentice mage. A knock on the door, and soon after a wide smile greeted him from inside.

?Well met my friend. I regret I did not have time to inform you of my arrival, but it was an urgent matter.?

?I am always glad to see you.? Golgoth said ?Please, come in and have a seat.?

Glick came in and sat down, and began to unfold the pendants out of the linen.

?Well my stout friend, I would offer you refreshment, but it seems as if you may have already helped yourself at our local establishment.?

Golgoth smirked as the dwarf?s eyes lit up at the thought of ale.

?Aye I have, and I nearly forgot the intent of my visit. I would now like to show you; my greatest masterpiece.?

Glick unwrapped the pendants and lay them before Golgoth. Even in the dim light, they shown brighter than a candle.

?These are wonderful, but it seems as if two masterpieces lay before me. What required you to make such things?? Golgoth asked

Glick replied ?As you have probably heard King Rangdal has been blessed with the birth of his heirs. He called upon me to make these pendants. I am now calling upon you to make them truly special.?

Golgoth furled his brow, obviously confused about where he fit into this.

?My friend, I need you to weave your magic upon these special pendants. I promised the king that I would give him more than he expected. I need your help to deliver that promise.?

Golgoth was taken aback by this. ?Surely you must jest! I am but an apprentice. How would my doings make something special? You have surely tipped a pint to many to speak such foolishness my friend.?

Onslaught after onslaught of murderous dark elves rained down upon a tiny dwarven community deep within the Eastern Range. Within weeks, the High Council realized that to stay was to guarantee their destruction. The inhabitants began preparations for a mass exodus when, in the 11th hour, the final assault came.

Organized for migration meant valuable resources needed to be diverted from defense. The dwarves paid for their mistake in blood. The attackers pressed their savagery until none stood to oppose them. Then, they went cave to cave slaughtering all they encountered. A gray haze hung gloomily over the mountains that day.

Looking back, a handful of survivors grieved the loss of their family, their friends, and their homes. They set out south along the coast to search for hospitable territory to begin again.

Amongst them were twins, Khan and Stieny, who stood a head taller than the tallest dwarves. They were too old to be considered children, yet too young to be regarded as adults. Their eyes were afire with thoughts of justice. Their journey would lead them through orcish lands and plains of ogres, only to forge their mettle. Never finding a new home, this small band led by the twins became thieves, and pirates.

They feared neither orc nor ogre. Their cunning and ferocity struck terror into their foe. Tales arose of how one dwarf would be spotted freeing slaves in one place while at the same time, many miles away, the same dwarf was seen raiding a military outpost.

As the success of their attacks grew, the morale of their enemies sagged, reducing them to petty infighting and civil war. Thus weakened, the twins stamped these foul hordes into history.

Now, in early adulthood, masters of a new land, conquerors of a hated foe, lavished with wealth and resources from grateful neighbors, they turn their gaze northward. Old memories of carnage blazing in their eyes, they unite their forces in a common quest. Home.

Stieny came to rule over the mountains of Stolice, and Khan the Eastern Range. Alas their dreams were fulfilled, but alas their transgressions were not forgotten. Thus began the onset of the new war.

A black mist of war hung heavily upon the Stolice, bringing forth the mourning spirits of all those who gave their lives. Smoke rose over the land, as countless bodies lie motionless on the ground. Blood soaked armor cluttered the streets, making most roads impassible.

A figure rose out of the darkness. Short but stocky, easily detected as a dwarf. Though all was bleak and dismal, this dwarf stood with insurmountable pride, head held high, battle axe held to the heavens.

The dwarf staggered the war torn streets, tears glistening in his eyes. He walked amongst his fallen comrades, vowing with every step vengeance to those who transgressed. The dwarf searched frantically through the bloody mess. Looking over every lifeless body looking for one. Hoping that each fallen friend would not be the one.

As he staggered through the streets, he clutched the last value of his life around his neck. The pendant. There was only one other like this in all of Narmir.

The dwarf reached to his chest and ripped it from his neck, grasping it tightly, letting the blood flow freely from his hand. A battle cry arose from the bottom of his lungs, reaching the corners of all the lands.


The dwarf moved through the streets, haste gaining in his steps. Each body that he past made his mind gain hope.


The dwarf searched for the match of the pendant he held in his hand. As he reached the outskirts of his lands, and the bodies were no more, he emerged from the shadows. With tear soaked eyes, he placed the pendant at the top of his battle axe, and raised it to the Gods.


"I raise my eyes to you vowing one thing; I will once again fight beside my brethren. I will find the one called Khan, and stand beside him once again. We came to this world from the same womb, and we will leave this world together.

No ties are stronger than that of two that come from one, and the twins shall stand the test of time. I stand before you, stronger and wiser than before. I stand before you, feeling only half. The next time that I stand before you, I will be whole. To those of you that should listen, this is my sole vow:

To fight Jarlaxle was to fight Bregan D'Aerthe, and to fight Bregan D'Aerthe, was to win!

I Stieny, King of the Gold Diggers on Stolice Mountains, brother of Khan, and leader of The Runaways, have returned. May your soul find refuge, because the blood is the life, and Jarlaxle, your blood will soon be my life."

Jax surveyed the lands where Bregan D'Aerthe had recently battled with the dwarven nations and allies. He noticed the short but stocky dwarf known as Stieny walking amongst the desolation. Very tempted was he to stalk the vulnerable dwarf and sink his dagger into his back. Being loyal to his leader Jarlaxle, he did not do this because Jarlaxle had commanded that he was not to destroy them totally yet. Bregan D'Aerthe was to continue to play cat and mouse for just a little while longer. The fools would suffer before being annihilated for the insolent actions they had committed against Jarlaxle's beloved ally, the demonic Drow.

Not only had they taken advantage of Drow while he was away, but they had tried to make Jarlaxle think that Drow had turned against him. But the tie the bond Jarlaxle and Drow is deeper than the Abyss itself!

Jax listened as the dwarf cried out his decree and soon returned to the mighty tower where Jarlaxle had established his strong hold, Jax relayed the latest news.

Upon hearing Jax's report, Jarlaxle replied:

"That which does NOT destroy the dwarves makes them stronger, but that which destroys them is Bregan D'Aerthe! "

As days passed by the stout dwarf Stieny began his campaign of vengeance. He gathered all of those that could stand and wield a weapon, and began the arduous task of rebuilding a stronghold on the Stolice Mountains.

As every day passed, fire rained down from the heavens, taking out precious resources, making the morale of each troop plummet to the lowest of lows. Every scholar, and every scribe worked against time to write the scrolls and generate the mana for the mages to dispel the torrent of spells inflicted upon the newly revived kingdom.

Through all of the toil, Jarlaxle hired many more recruits to aid in the demise of Stieny, and those known as The Runaways. The high elves soon joined the ranks of the drow, leaning ever so close to the darkest of sides. In the front of it all stood a hideous demon. The whole of evil, leader of all that are drow. Fires formed at his wake, and his underling demons cackled as they tried to destroy the livelihood of those known as gold diggers. As the kingdom of Stolice stood in the midst of disaster, the leader of the high elves, persuaded to come to the dark side, stood ready to attack the vulnerable kingdom.

The pirate known as Burr, yet another fledgling of Bregan, ordered his faction of assassins into Stolice late one night. Their evil prowess left not one to man the wondrous war machines built to defend the city.

War cries rang out soon after the assassins left many lying dead in their beds. With sleep in their eyes, the weary soldiers tried to stand their ground. It was an easy victory for the one called Burr, and he stood before the town with a smile upon his face.

At dawn, as the sun came over the mountains, Stieny stood before his people. Tattered, and war torn, they listened as the words fell from their kings lips.

"Aye, we have lost yet another battle. But now is the time to attack. Our lands grow thin as the others grow fat. It is now or never. All that can move, all that can fight, stand at the helms of our masterful war machines, and fight to the death."

Stieny led the march into the kingdom of the treacherous Burr. Over five days of fighting they took much land. The losses were high, and the reinforcements to the enemy were tremendous. As Stieny led the people to the new found lands, the people had smiles on their faces. Maybe with these new found lands, a new happiness could be found.

Upon return, there was much building to be done. Fires had torn the kingdom, and there were many new acres to build upon. That night Stieny had a feast prepared in honor of all those that have fought to uphold the gates of Stolice.

As the songs rose on the night air, the dwarves drank and ate as they never have before. Each little man, woman, and child had a smile on their face. It had been some time since there was happiness behind the gates of Stolice, but now was a time for rejoicing, and now was a time for rebuilding. All those who chose to mock and scorn, must now see the inevitability of the rise of the dwarves known as the gold diggers.

Jax entered the thrown room of Jarlaxle's enchanted tower to report the bad news about how he had failed in his attempts to raid Stieny's trade routes in order to exhaust his economy.

"My lord Jarlaxle, I have failed you. Stieny has fortified his trade routes. My thieves were unable to penetrate his defenses. Our spells still have him somewhat pinned down, but he has recently regained some territory from the imposing pirate, Burr. In order to have reached the pirate's stronghold, the dwarf must have had help other than what our scouts have found. But on a more positive note my Lord, we have been able to weaken the spell casting abilities of most of Stieny's allies. Word has it that we have even been able to eradicate the quickling named Ghandi."

...and from the battlefield stumbled a wretched looking creature. It might have been a man at one time, but now bloodied and beaten it was only a ghost. With eyes dull and weary he looked around at the destruction the war had brought.

"I have done all that I can." he mumbled
"There is but one more thing I must do."
Ghandi turned and peered into the shadows.
Somewhere... Yes, there... He spied the cloaked figure that had been trailing him for days.
He knew what the tracker wanted, and with all the voice he could muster, Ghandi stated to him

"I am finished here, My time has drawn to a close. Take what you can then finish me off swiftly."

With his last words lingering upon the wind Ghandi turned back to face the final rays of a dying sun, the cold touch of death came upon him.

Jarlaxle intently listened to Jax's account of the most recent developments of the war with the dwarven nations and remained silent for some time afterwards. The quickling soon grew uneasy. Almost nothing could inspire fear into the small cutthroat, but Jax knew few things like the wrath of Jarlaxle.

"Jax," began Jarlaxle, "your covert skills are among the best in the world, and I do not doubt your loyalty to me. Therefore I must confess that the prowess of this stumpy dwarf is indeed impressive. Although I despise his disrespect in hiring spies to infiltrate my demon ally's kingdoms, I admire his sturdy disposition that has allowed him to survive our onslaught of fire. Not only did he dispatch the rouges, he also instructed them to attack Bregan D'Aerthe.

Seven times seven they have already paid for their transgressions, and seventy times seventy more they will yet pay? unless they agree to my terms. Stieny and his alliance must first admit guilt to trespassing into Drow's kingdoms and using Drow's resources to kill innocent people worldwide. Secondly, Stieny and his alliance must admit that it was a foolish mistake to have even think about challenging Drow for his dragon coin. And it must be stated, that to fight Drow is to fight Jarlaxle, and to fight Jarlaxle is to fight Bregan D'Aerthe, and to fight Bregan D'Aerthe is to lose!"

Although not the brightest of all to walk the lands of Narmir, Pickle, the green bearded dwarf was a very sturdy leader in battle. Having not the intellect of a normal dwarf, Pickle was easily manipulated by Jarlaxle's charismatic influence. Jarlaxle persuaded the celebrated dwarf to attack Stieny's kingdom after Jarlaxle had already paved the way to insure success.

"?uuuiiiii!!!" reported Pickle after he had taken hundreds of thousands of acres from Stieny.

?Very good?, thought Jarlaxle to himself.

The words of the mighty Tharis had now been spoken. The dragon showed interested in the livelihood Stieny and his alliance. Jarlaxle was confused with the sudden interest, but hoped that Stieny would continue to delay his response. For the longer the war lasted, the more land and resources Jarlaxle would obtain.

"Please wait a little while longer," Jarlaxle said to himself, "So that I can have the rest of your lands taken along with your precious technologies."

The green bearded one approached the Jarlaxle's tower with his familiar grin. Knowing that the lord of the tower was expecting him, the guards immediately led him to Jarlaxle's war room.

"?uuiii!" Pickle shouted upon entrance.

Jarlaxle turned to the newcomer, aware of who it was by his signature welcome.
"So, your attacks on Stieny were successful again my good dwarven friend?"


"Good, good. See? Like I told you, now you have more land for your pretty green gardens," Jarlaxle explained.

"Greeeeennnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn!!" Pickle acknowledged with a great smile.

After he left, Jarlaxle looked at one of his head advisors and simply rolled his eyes and shook his head.

At that moment Drow appeared in the room from thin air.

"Jarlaxle! A new wave of invaders has come into our world!"

?Maybe this war will have to stop prematurely,? Jarlaxle thought to himself.

The skies were filled with fire. Buildings were burning through out the kingdom from the recent attacks. In the gallows the bodies of the recent thieves from Jax swung gently in the breeze.

Grimmy looked over the grounds to see the bloody stumps that used to be his dedicated followers. He turns his attention to the survivors picking up the pieces from the last attack. Quickly he calls for one, and hands him a message to be delivered to Stieny.

Most Glorious Leader Stieny:

I am battered but not bruised. I have grown stronger from the recent attacks. I am still here and I still devote my people and my army to you as you need.

Your faithful follower,
That which does not destroy me, makes me stronger.

Grimmy sat atop of his castle looking down at the marvelous work his mighty dwarves had done in the rebuilding of there once thriving city.

?Yet another attack has transpired, and still I sit strong upon my throne.?, thought Grimmy to himself. ?To my people I am Grimmy, a survivor, and my people they too are survivors.?

Grimmy shakes his head silently as yet another foolish attempt from the thief they call Jax takes place. The Runaways? network has proven steadfast, yet the so called master still persists.

As the sun sets over the land Grimmy looks over his city. His thoughts soon stray to wonder. Who will be the next to attack? He solemnly assures his people that rest will come easy, but in the back of his mind, he toils over the thoughts of the next wave killing each of them as they sleep.

Looking over his weary army, he realizes this is what they truly need. He sees their need for rest. He sees the redness in there eyes .Throughout it all, they stand steadfast. They fight, for they know no fear. They await the orders of their leader, as he himself waits for word from Stieny.

Grimmy comes down from the safety high atop the castles walls and walks over to greet his fighters. They stand proudly beside their glorious war machines. A smile can be seen upon the faces, yet they are in smiles torn with pain.

?Soon.?, Grimmy thinks to himself. ?Soon it will all be over, and my people will rest as they have never rested before.?

At the head of his army of orcish fighters and war machines, DogofWar catches the distinct smell of death in the air. It smells of a chaotic mixture of smoke and blood. His tongue hangs out as he licks his lips. He turns to his army and announces there is war ahead. The army erupts in cheers. Coming over the horizon he surveys the violence with envy. The amount of destruction is great. The dead bodies of drow fighters and mages, are littered amongst the dwarven engineers and the destroyed machines of war. The sight make's him giddy with the prospect of war. He sat and pondered as orcs often do. Who should be attacked now? Being new to these lands, he is in uncharted territory. The lure of war is so enchanting.

The Orc Commander caught a glimpse of a small quickling rapidly going through the few that still remained alive. The quickling would slit their throats and watch the life leave the eyes of his victims. The last thing his prey would see, was Jax?s demonic smile. The faint of heart would reason that the assassin took too much pleasure in his work. Many even concluded that the infamous quickling was insane.

In a blurring instant, Jax ran before DogofWar.
"Greetings, and well met! You seem to be the type that loves battle if you are anything similar to most orcs I know. If you would like to join in on the warring campaign, then I am sure Lord Jarlaxle would oblige you with maps and supplies to do so.

There is one dwarf by the name of Khan that has fled into yonder mountains. My lord Jarlaxle would probably supply you with plenty of arms to trail the dwarf and his remaining units. But I would hurry if I were you, for word has it that a mighty dragon named Tharis has interest in the war's end. Tharis has asked that Stieny's dwarven nation be sparred; what Tharis' motive is I do not know. But therein still lies Tharis' request. Jarlaxle gave Stieny conditions that if met would end the war. But if Stieny does not comply, all Hades will be set loose."

With bloodlust dancing in his eyes, he thinks of Jax?s proposal. DogofWar turns to his army and states in an euphoric voice: ?Now we shall feast upon sweet dwarven meat, my people" As he turns and starts after the bloody trail Khan has left

Later, a small psuedo-dragon flies to DogofWar with a small scroll in his mouth. It drops the scroll at DogofWar's feet and leaves.

To DogofWar, the mighty!

I am afraid my vampiric wife Izz'terl was a bit famished for blood, so she recently feasted on the fleeing troops of Khan. I will have his new locale in the coming day, and provisions should arrive shortly.


DogofWar seemed dismayed at the news.

?It is well then, I shall wait here, and feast upon the weary and unknowing, until I receive word from the Great One. My orcs have the smell of blood and their bloodlust runs rampant.?

After long hours of planning, Jarlaxle retired to his private room. As he entered he noticed a lone figure lying on his bed.
"Izz'terl, my wife!" he exclaimed with joy. "I have longed to see your beautiful face."

"I am sure you hunger for blood after your long journey," Jarlaxle said to the vampire. He then explained to her where to find the dwarves of Khan as easy prey. She kissed him on and then transformed herself into the form where she would feed on the petty dwarves.

"I will be back soon my love..." she proclaimed as she left to scatter what remained of Khan's armies.

Izz'terl ransacked Khans armies in order to satisfy her raving hunger. The blood of the dwarves was very thick and warm. After a few ours of play, she returned to her noble lord Jarlaxle.
"Thank you my darling," she said, "my thirst is quenched for a while. But you know how easily I fill with boredom. Do you think there will be more play time for me soon?"

"But of course my love," Jarlaxle replied. "The war with the dwarves is soon to end, but these lands are filled with discord. Even now I hear that a one named Sekhmet has attacked one of my allies. You can feast on him in the morrow." he concluded with a wry smile as he motioned for her to come nearer?

As the sun set to bring the next day, Izz'terl went out in search of the dire wolves known as Sekhmet. She found him in a dense wooded area where he and his followers were licking their wounds from the spells that had halved their numbers. She studied their remaining strength and decided that she would weaken them a bit more before she took their blood. As she was leaving after her covert attacks, one of the wolves bit her on the heal.

"Blast!" she cried out. "They do bite back," she complained as she smiled and licked the blood, as it trickled out. "I will be back tomorrow my little puppies..."

Izz'terl returned on the morrow to feast on the dire wolves. She raided their dens and took their lands four times. But on the fifth time, more help had arrived and Sekhmet was barely able to hold the vampires off.
"I will find those that feed you, and I will feed upon them!" she assured.

Stieny paced back and forth in front of his royal scribes. This was the day that the war must stop. He thought carefully about the words that he would speak to the crafty Jarlaxle. The scribes watched and listened carefully as Stieny began to speak:

To the Wise Jarlaxle,

Through the rise and fall of many moons, we have been through a very savage war. The inspiration of this war stemmed solely from a single act that many, including myself look down upon. As we all know, dwarves are not known for their cunning, and are hardly adept at stealth. A band of highly skilled thieves came across the borders of Stolice at a most opportune time. They said they would be at my service to do anything that I requested. With thoughts of war and destruction in the future, I could not resist the temptation set before me. As I learned the password from the great red dragon, for the kingdoms of your must trusted ally, I sent the thieves to infiltrate the kingdoms, and turn them against their formal allies. I realize as I look back upon these events, that it was not the wisest of choices. I do regret that in which I did, and I humbly request your forgiveness for such transgressions.
As for the second request of compliance; From the beginnings of the kingdom of Drow, and of myself, there has been contempt, and war. The seeds of these are deep rooted. Much of the respect that I have gained as the leader of the gold diggers has come from the courage that I have had to show facing the one that all else were afraid to engage. Through this I can not, nor will not, for fear of the loss of respect, say that it was a foolish mistake to challenge Drow for his dragon coin. I will however state, that with the backing of yourself, and your alliance, it is a harder task than I could fathom taking at this moment. At this time, I have no other choice but to ask you to extend your hand in peace, as I have stated my compliance.

To fight Jarlaxle was to fight Bregan D'Aerthe, and to fight Bregan D'Aerthe, was to learn humility

King of the Gold Diggers on Stolice Mountains

As the scribes scurried to write all that Stieny spoke, the messenger waited outside of the door of the throne room. The scribes emerged with the document, with the official seal of the Gold Diggers, and handed it to the messenger. The messenger sped off down the corridors to his horse, and out of the gates of Stolice in the blink of an eye.
Stieny watched the dust rise as the messenger galloped off. He thought about all the lives that were lost, and deep in his heart he hoped that the messenger would return with the news he needed to hear.

The messenger hurried into the broken battle grounds, where he was escorted to Jarlaxle?s tower. The message was taken to the leader of Bregan D'Aerthe, which he took to read. After some time had passed he called for a servant to bring him a scroll.

??To the honorable dwarven king!

Well met my brave and tenacious rival! Forgive my arrogance in presupposing that the dwarves were incapable of wisdom. I have heard it said that the dwarves grow stronger through that which does not kill them, and I now have faith in its truthfulness. Few there have been to survive the assaulting we have launched, but you my sturdy adversary, you have stood strong. Wise enough to retreat, and strike back when the time was right. Your allies would do good to continue to follow you. May fate deal you a favorable hand in the upcoming invasion that my scouts have reported to me. Please head my advice, and prepare quickly; for fate is sometimes ironic in that we may have to fight together to survive!

If I am correct, these minions that have been reported have followed me from which I came. Their power is great, and their thirst for blood rivals even that of the first lady of Bregan D'Aerthe!


Jarlaxle gave the scroll to a psuedo-dragon and sent it on its way. Then he stood to announce before his followers:

??This war is over, but news has it that we will be invaded soon. Begin rebuilding at once?

Khan lie silently in his bed, enjoying the sweet slumber he now took for granted. Thoughts filled his head of days gone by. A sweet remembrance of a most horrendous time. Poetry filled his dreams??

Killed by age
A remnant, a runaway
From an ancient time
Dreams of youth
Now but an Echo
Passing on the wind
Of night battle
Fire and stone
Peaceless Warriors of a Forgotten World
Onslaught after onslaught
Dark Elven rain
Needless waste of life
In flight south
Darkening midnight fire
Winged sky
More will

A slam, shouts, the scampering of feet startle an old dwarf from slumber. A pounding surf washes the silvery glare of a setting sun. Broken waves of rocks lie as though in wait amidst plains of slick sand. The ocean breeze breathes salty coolness between aged lips as life shines through gray eyes which sharply survey the hard fought peace. The sky afire with memories.

The eternally beautiful Elena, issues cutting reprimands. "Quiet, you little gomers." But, of course, it is too late.

Stirring from his chair, perched high in the mountains overlooking the coastline adjacent the Eastern Range, Khan accepts with a sigh the fact that he would rest no longer this day. The children had come to hear the stories of the great hero Stieny and the battle against the darkness.

"Let them in, wife!" Khan shouts to the beautiful, Elena. "I'm awake now."

"I?m so sorry," she said, as she says, seeking a forgiveness for an offence that has never existed. "they just barged in."

"That is ok, my love. I was dreaming of the great battles, and that was so long ago." Turning to the troupe of would be marauders, "welcome young Draekan and friends."

So the story begins...

"In an old time, Justice was a tentative god. Like a newborn star in an ageless night. A dwarf, you could say." Khan winks to the children. Evil ruled as chaos reigned supreme. The skies weren't always blue. Smoke hung around these mountains like a wreath in the black days of yesteryear....

To be at war with a god is, especially a god of evil, brutal and savage. Make no mistake the gods cheat. They know no honor. They will sacrifice hundreds of thousands in a single move, and if it doesn't work the first time they do it again. They will try every method possible for they are unencumbered by basic morality...

I can't tell you much of what Stolice was like before The Annihilation. Drow hadn't yet performed the ceremony to become demon. I was quite young then but I do remember great wealth from the gold mines. And I remember the sight of Jarlaxle, the god of evil. So much evil. Hideous...

There were so many dark elves our people snapped like twigs under the weight of their assaults. We watched helplessly as many were lined up and mercilessly cut down. Enraged by this sight, we fought. Without weapons or training we slew as many as we could, picking up equipment as we struggled for freedom. Breaching their lines, five of us fled south along the coast. The bloodlust of Jarlaxle and Drow seen in our minds through tearing eyes...

The road to freedom bore the scars of a murderous rampage. Nature's beauty torn. By the light of heaven and the fire of hell, the dwarves face a grim future...
Many days had past since the horror at Stolice mountain. Finding food was impossible in this wasteland of nature's broken heart. Banditry became their only choice for survival. Events were about to unfold however that would forever define existence for these dwarves...

Late in the evening, as weariness washed over the survivors a sweet siren song called crisply. Wings on the wind. An Echo...

Curse the heart that thought.
The spirit of the action.
Killers are quiet
Like the breath of the wind.
Only one way to bring the devil down.
The consent to damnation
Every tear in every eye
Innocence suffers blood and iron
Infinity in the palm of your hand
All heaven enraged...
...the gold diggers. They did not call the mountains home. They came from all over the known world seeking just one thing. The Stolice Stone.
These are kings, who's culture and joy of life is surpassed only by their desire to possess even the smallest amount. Everything is traded and trading up is the only way to get ahead in the line that leads
to the prize. Law and Order, Discipline and Service are of paramount importance. Every citizen serves. A blessing and a burden, the Stolice Stone was magic.
The Ancient Text describes the Stolice Mountains as the perch to other worlds. The Eastern Range as a passage of history though which the history of its people is written.
To us, it is wealth, wisdom, magic and power.
It's mighty gate is not protected by flesh and steel, but by a half spoken phrase. To enter required the completion of the phrase.

"The End..."

One chance and the magic lays siege to your heart, holding it as though for an eternity, searching it resolutely, squeezing it for the truth of what you really think. Only three have ever seen the enshrined catacombs
concealed within. Two elven and one dwarf. Golgoth, Mordsith and Rangdal...

The King walked to the tomb. In full confidence, he spoke. "The end is pre-exixtent in the mean." The magic raced through his heart, eagerly searching for peace that prevailed within. Enveloping his being, magic carried the King stoically onto the mountain top for eternity.

With his time he bore two sons, wrote two books that contained immense power, of the ore he forged two tools, invented two magic suits of armor...

And he learned two spells that were etched into two pillars from deep within the magic of the mountain, found on an island amidst the mists of the raze river. A small bridge unrolled horizontally, zigzagging into the blazing fjord.

The intense heat poured as though from every pore of his body as the king faced this great power of old earth. Creating an impassable wall thicker than concrete, again the magic inquires...

"What are thou freedom?"

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