The Story of Tyriedar

The first and oldest of the races of Tyriedar.
Once widespread with thirteen great kingdoms spread across the world, their population has dwindled down to only two due to persecution, disease, and famine. They do not often venture from their mountain homes, and most amongst the other races will live their entire lives never having seen a dwarf.
Worship only one god: Medaest. He is often portrayed as a blacksmith hammering away at an axe upon an anvil.
Dwarves are blessed with long lives, averaging between 250 to 300 years of age if not killed earlier in life.
Considered battle- or work-ready at age 30, though adulthood isn't reached until 70.
Skill in a dwarf's chosen craft is revered just as much as skill in battle, occasionally even more so.
A predominantly physical race, dwarves are the least likely to develop magical powers, and the departure of magic from the world was not felt by them. When a dwarf does happen to show signs of possessing magic, they often hide it, as it is seen as shameful.
Unlike Men, dwarves are not born with a surname. They earn it later in life either by some notable deed or proficiency in their craft of choice, and it is always given by someone else, never self-chosen.

When Tyriedar first came into being, there were the dwarves. The chosen race of their lone god, Medaest (scholars amongst Men often wonder if Medaest is not a dwarvish interpretation of one of their own gods), they were hewn from the very stone of the mountain itself, lending to them its strength and sturdiness. Fierce, loyal, honorable, and above all else industrious, the dwarves prospered in the early ages of Tyriedar, teaching the younger races the secrets of metalwork, jewel crafting, and battle. At their strongest, there were thirteen great dwarven kingdoms, each distinct and yet easily rallied in unison should their brethren ever be threatened - and threatened they were at the end of the Third Age nearly 500 years ago.

Fearing the prosperity of the dwarves and their wide diaspora (though also greed-driven, as there were those amongst Men who sought the riches of the dwarves for their own), the kingdoms of Men united under one banner for the first (and last) time and marched upon Moradorn, greatest of the dwarves' above-ground cities. Once the great shining jewel of the wide southern lands, it was Moradorn that prevented the spread of Ruand southward and the Horse-Lords in particular resented this fiercely, swept away in violent fervor at the mere suggestion of dwarves considering themselves superior to Men. They were, of course, met with great resistance, and quickly learned that to challenge the dwarves in open battle was indeed folly - but the dwarves, too, learned of their own mistakes: trusting Men enough to teach them their methods of weapon crafting and fighting. Driven back to their doors by sheer numbers alone and the fact that this attack had been organized and came in secret, the fields surrounding Moradorn were soaked with the blood of both sides, and so it was that this once-great city fell into ruin. Those that remained in the aftermath of battle were scattered or slain outright and the inner keeps were raided and divvied up amongst treacherous rulers and their captains: gold earned by slaughter. When the last cart of gold was taken from Moradorn, the doors were sealed, and to this day, the houses of those who took part in the Siege on Moradorn take great pride in the treasures acquired from this raid. Some no longer even remember the history of the items they hold dear, but the dwarves still feel the painful sting of the betrayal of Men.

It was after the Siege of Moradorn that the dwarves retreated to their mountains, shutting themselves off from the remainder of the world as a desperate act of self-preservation and guilt. None had come to aid Moradorn because of the sudden nature of the attack and the distance between kingdoms, but still they felt remorseful that they had not been there when their brethren most needed help. And there was, of course, the ever-lingering fear that came with their persecution: would they be attacked again? When? Which of their kingdoms would fall next? Steadily their numbers began to dwindle, both by further sieges (three more fell to Ruand alone, attacked when famine and disease had already ravaged their populations) and their newfound isolation, which left them vulnerable. Trade routes to and from the mountains were closed, doors were sealed, and food produced within the mountains could not sustain the populations held within. Sickness, too, swept through some of the kingdoms, leaving many dead or dying and a veritable breeding ground of inescapable disease.

Eleven great kingdoms, each distinct and yet alike in strength, honor, and industry, fell one after another. Fearful of Men and the threat of being crushed beneath their now-booming populations and distrustful of the Elves, who were filled with lies and much too secretive for the dwarves' liking (never mind the fact that they themselves were just as, if not more so, secretive), they were forgotten by time, their mountains emptied of treasure and their mines commandeered by the ones who had driven them back in the first place. The dwarves passed into memory, and memory passed into myth; the children of Men now are often unsure if dwarves ever existed at all, or if stories told by the elderly are simply fairy tales - ironically enough, spoken in hushed tones of reverence, dwelling on forgotten craftsmanship and what had once been ever-loyal allies betrayed by those they had taken in as kin.

But eleven is not thirteen, and if one is lucky, they may yet see a dwarf in centers of trade and commerce, though the ones seen in public are often nothing like the strong, sturdy dwarves of lore. The ones sent out to face the world as it is now are often what their people call maljûn - shamed. These are they that either cannot grow a beard (an extremely important symbol of both strength and status amongst male dwarves) or have proven themselves to be nearly useless in anything significant. They are considered to be of another lower class entirely, dirty enough to have dealings with treacherous Men in matters of trade for their people, to whom they are often still loyal despite their mistreatment. Barring this, there are also the hafarâl - betrayers. These are few and far between, most of which come from the northernmost of the remaining two dwarven kingdoms. They are those who leave their people behind, most by their own choosing but even fewer still by force.

Far to the north lie the Keldvar Mountains, where Rov VI Dragonbreaker the Treacherous rules his people with an iron fist amongst year-round ice and snow. The most populous of the remaining two dwarven kingdoms, the royal lineage of the Keldvar runs nearly as deep as the mountain range itself, going back well into the First Age. The sapphire crown has been passed from father to son for centuries, but tied closely to the crown has been the shield and axe of the Kingsguard, always of the line of Marrik I, a strong line of fierce warriors wholly dedicated to protecting their royal family. So it was for four Ages, until Rov earned his second title by slaying his ailing grandfather, his father (the prince and rightful heir) and the captain of his grandfather's Kingsguard, Eirik III Bloodhammer. This instigated rioting within the kingdom, but Rov and his new Kingsguard quickly brought his people back underneath his heel. For a very brief time, things were tense but peaceful - until Rov's refusal to entomb Eirik in a place of honor alongside his own grandfather, as had been their custom since time immeasurable. Faced with his family's dishonor, Rov's own captain rebelled against him, challenging the new king in what should have been a fight to the death - and a potential transfer of power that would have been welcomed by the people. As things turned poorly for Rov and he was faced with certain death, he broke the rule of outside interference, having his former captain seized and cast out as hafarâl. This chain of events solidified Rov's reign of fear, and though his people despise their king, they have little hope for improvement. Some amongst them even whisper of how the dwarves have entered the last of their days, knowing of the dwindling state of the Bikkral people to the south.

In the east, the Bikkral Mountains are significantly quieter than their Keldvar kin, ruled by Ovnar Redshield. Originally from the now-empty Voldarin Mountains bordering Mirerenna to the east, Ovnar is one of the few dwarves in the Bikkral who recall their dark last days and the long trek southeast to safety within the halls of his cousin and prior king of Bikkral, Andvin II Blackarrow. Despite the threat of dragons to the south, for many long years the kingdom was held in peace and prosperity - perhaps more so than their Keldvar brethren - until a maljûn servant returned home bearing a disease as yet unheard of to the dwarven population within. This disease spread quickly, faster than anything their healers had ever seen before, bringing with it great black boils and blisters and free bleeding incurable by their skilled hands. Even the healers themselves succumbed in the end, and their once-great population dwindled to a mere 150 before the disease finally cleared. This was no joyous day, however, for their king too had fallen, consumed. At the urging of what was left of their people, Ovnar took the emerald crown of his cousin and installed himself as king, fair and just and well-loved by all. He abolished the maljûn system in the Bikkral Mountains, bringing what few remained into the fold with the remainder of their people, and though life is now peaceful beneath this range, the memories of disease and death are still fresh, having shut off the deeper portions of their mountain cities in order to inter their many dead. The remaining dwarves of the Bikkral have shunned ties of kinship with the Keldvar since Rov VI's bloody ascent to power, but some question if this is for the best: better to journey north and join up with their distant cousins, they say, and perhaps have Rov dethroned by their own good king Ovnar.

If you have any questions concerning dwarves, please see here.