PANTHEON EXERCISE

I recently completed a design-your-own pantheon challenge for the folks over at r/dndbehindthescreen. I'm not sure if I'm 100% happy with the outcome (I think I failed to make the pantheon sound original or even vaguely interesting!) but I was happy with the uh... metaphysics of it!

I'm making the pdf available here if you are interested, and it will be permanently available in the sidebar->

SOLO EXPERIMENT: INTO THE ABYSS

The following is a play through, of sorts - a solo adaptation of WotC fifth edition module Out of the Abyss. The purpose of this exercise is to attempt an ad hoc adaptation of exisitng content to a homebrew setting, whilst also investigating how much of this resources might be adaptable to my own campaign world. The module is available for sale at here.

Available to buy here 

There's no such thing as solo "play"... it's an exercise in writing, rather than a game, 

but that doesn't mean it can't be fun...

This shouldn't need saying but SPOILERS! RIGHT AHEAD!

****

Bao woke, his head buried in his manacled arms, upon the cold stone flor of the slave pen. How ling had it been? Perhaps four days, maybe more, maybe less. He was counting only the number of servings of broth he'd received, which he'd overheard one prisoner describe as "daily sustenance". He groaned in pain, his wounds from the bruising encounter that brought him were still sore. He wanted nothing more than to die.

<Looks like the pretty one is waking up> said a thick, female voice, speaking the language of the Gizaki.
<Pretty, huh. Maybe. Think the Mistress will take a shine to him>>
<Ha! Think he's skin is too colourful, wouldn't you say? look at that! it's like polished bronze, or gold even! You ever see such a thing?>
<Nope. Must be a southerner, Eldeth>

Bao winced. In spite of his discomfort, his self-pity, and his lingering injuries, he hated to be mistaken for anything other than what he was.

<I am NOT from the south, Gizaki; I am from the east.>

There was a long silence.

<Gods!> said the female named Eldeth <He speaks dwarven!>

There was a round of nervous laughter, first from Eldeth, before being joined by that of her partner, and then a few more chuckles joined the fray.

<He's been listening all along!>
<Hope he knows I didn't mean  any of that!>
<Hope he can take a joke!>

That nervous glee was short-lived, however, as a pale, angry elf rattled the bars of the slave pen's gate with his sabre:

"Quieten down in there, surface-dwelling scum!"

The prisoners obeyed immediately, falling into a hushed silence. As much as a minute had passed before anyone stirred, and again it was Eldeth. She had quietly sidled up to Bao, who had not yet lifted his face up from the dirt.

"You speak the dwarven tongue, boy, and you call us by our True Name. How is this so?"

Bao lifted his tired head and beheld the female for the first time. She did not look like the Gizaki he had met before: with her round, pale face and orange-coloured hair she looked more like a human westerner than. She even spoke their tongue, which they imperiously called "common", much to Bao's chagrin.

"Please," he said, "I speak the common tongue but inelegantly. I much prefer speaking with you as before."

<Very well, although it is odd for me to speak like this with a human. Tell me, do all of your people learn Hizkuntza, or were you taught to speak it by a dwarf?>

<Both, of course! said Bao, after some hesitation. he found the question confusing. It seemed Eldeth found his answer likewise. <That is to say, all my people - well, educated ones at least - learn Hizkuntza... it's the language of our liturgy. And of course, the best teachers are native speakers so->

<There are Gizaki - dwarfs - in your lands?>

<But of course? Why would->

Again, any further attempts at conversation were once again interrupted by the rattling sabre of the wan elven guard. 

"Right! You! You! And.... you! Come, you've got work to do!"

Automatically, Eldeth lifted herself up and headed towards the gate, alongside two even more diminutive creatures. The elf guard led them out, before locking the gate behind them.

Once more, Bao was alone with his thoughts, with his guilt. It was an odd comfort, this blanket of misery, but it was no more or less than he deserved. Had it not been for his own miserable shortcomings, he would not have found himself in such a pathetic situation... and were it not for his own failures, hos three companions might yet live. He rolled onto his back and released a pained groan.

"Don't worry, human. Plenty more pain where that came from."

Bao did not recognise the voice, but he did not care. It continued to taunt him, but its guttural, snarling interpretation of the western tongue could do him no worse injury than he had already caused himself. 

What had become of him? he wondered. What now for the eager apprentice, the disciple of battle, the warrior-poet, now that he was a prisoner, a slave? Better to have died: his critics would have been right about his "fighting style", but at least any doubts concerning his commitment would have been put to rest.

The taunting voice came at him again:

"So you only talk with dwarfs, is it? Don't like how I speak your tongue, ay human?"

This caught his attention. He brought his gaze to bear on the source of the voice, and beheld a hunched, muscular figure.

"Huh, that got your attention, did it boy?"

The creature's voice was a low growl. Bao tried to pick out more details in the dim light of the distant torches, but he new none. Bao was already weakened, and knew better than to pick a fight with an opponent about whom he knew nothing. He turned away.

"That's right, coward! Turn away! Run away just like-"

The words did nothing to Bao, but as he rolled over, he was shocked to hear a sudden, high-pitched squeal being emitted from a large, white mushroom:

"I'm... sorry?" he said, in spite of himself.

It's okay, people haven't been paying me much attention of late.

Bao did a double take. The voice had appeared, spontaneously, inside his own head, in response to his almost involuntary apology.

"I'm going mad..."

"Yeah you are!" said the snarling voice.

"Ten gold says he kills the mushroom before himself!" came another voice from the darkness, though Bao was not sure where. It was followed by laughter.

"I'll take that bet," said the voice who had been chatting in dwarven to Eldeth earlier. More laughter followed, and more voices. Bao merely covered his ears.

Don't be sad, they're just trying to make themselves feel better. Everyone's scared.... you're not mad, by the way.

The large mushroom seemed to be staring at him the entire time. He resisted a strong desire to answer the voice in his head with a direct, audible question to it.

I know, few surface-dwellers get to see my kind. We do live above sometimes, though. Hey, can I show you a secret? 

Bao had not removed his hands from his ears, but the voice ran clear and true in the space in between them. He watched in awe as the mushroom appeared to uproot itself, and walk away from him on two stalks. After a few steps, it seemed to turn around:

Well, are you coming or what?

TBC










 

THE CRYSTAL SEAS... Episode 4: The Palace of Prince Atembe

The Royal and Ancient City of Jehemen.

5th Sositi

The sun rose on a new day. Though the somber mood that had fallen since the death of Burzum still lingered, it was lightened somewhat by the task of naming the party's newly acquired mounts. Analicia grabbed the chestnut mare with the white muzzle, naming her Chà Bông (presumably a name from an ancient language). Despite its great size, the white stallion previously earmarked for Burzum proved a most suitable mount for Horace, and it was decided that he be named Skyler. Horace also named the pack-camel Chanel, owing to her fragrant odour. Ursula was left with the brown colt and the dappled-grey mare. She took the latter as her mount, naming it Nicemare. She also named the colt Knecht.

The party waved a solemn goodbye to the villagers of Kuth and began the long trek back to Jehemen. Unlike the outward trek, the journey home passed without incident... though there seemed to be more travellers than before. Upon arrival at the formidable Eastern Gate our heroes were greeted by a huge crowd, as guards seemed to be paying particularly close attention to those entering and exiting the city. The party approached the gate unperturbed.

Perhaps they should have been perturbed...

Still mounted, the party found themselves surrounded by a platoon of the Prince's guards armed with particularly long spears. It seemed they were on the lookout for a pale-skinned, blue-haired, antler-wearing elf, who apparently had attempted to sneak into the grounds of a noble house, then tried to lasso the guards at the gate...

Initially, Analicia attempted to make a break for it, but she was unable to control Chà Bông, who nearly threw her from the saddle. The guards closed in, speartips glistening in the orange light of the setting sun.

Analicia attempted to bluff her way out of it. Horace looked around for Ursula, but the yellow woman was nowhere to be found. The Captain of the guard was losing his patience. Enter Horace:

"As a cleric - a priest - of the All-Knowing One, the Iridescent Dragon, The Life-Giver, the...."

"Your god has no authority here. What happens within these walls is the responsibility of His Higness Prince Atembe. This is our jurisdiction."

The captain and the dwarf regarded one another for a few moments.

"The Prince is a fair  judge. You have my word your... companion will come to no harm as long as she cooperates."

The dwarf sighed. They were outnumbered nearly ten-to-one, and it seemed that Analicia was not protesting her innocence of the crime, rather that she had some right as a noble elf to be spared the indignity. He place his holy symbol around her neck.

"Take this."

Analicia was confused.

"What the hell am I supposed to do with this? I'm not into your Go-"

A brace of guards closed in on the elf-maid, and secured shackles to her wrists.

"This is an outrage! I should be carried like a princess, not led through the streets like a common criminal! If this was in Freeeport things would be very different! Just you wait until Donna Seraf-"

 Analicia was gagged and led away. The Captain continued to press Horace.

"Where are you staying?"

After some deliberation, it was agreed that Horace would pay a visit to the Shrine of the The Holy Order of the Knights of the Diamond Sigil, taking Burzum with him. He was escorted by a small retinue of guards, though he was not quite sure why. A red-haired man began walking in-step beside him:

"It's me."

The red-haired man had Ursula's voice, and was wearing Ursula's clothing.

"I'm going to follow Analicia and make sure she's okay."

The red-haired man disappeared into the crowd...

Horace, Knecht, Chanel, Skylar, Nicemare and Chà Bông arrived at an unassuming building in the heart of the temple district. They had traversed an area of immense poverty and suffering, where slum hovels rubbed up against the walls of palatial temples, the steps of which were thronged with the diseased and the dying. Horace sighed when he beheld the symbol of the Diamond Sigil - a dragon, wrapped around a gemstone - for though once it had signified focus on hope, he suddenly felt somewhat bereft. His escort of Royal Guards left him alone outside. Entrusting his mounts to the care of some street children, he entered the shrine.

An intimidatingly large woman stood before him. Though enrobed in the clothing of a cleric, she was tall and muscular, with a high forehead. Her cheekbones were sharp and her eyes bright and wide, the colour of amber, but her face was somehow... disturbing. Her teeth appeared to fight with each other for space in her mouth, with her lower canines protruding slightly from her bottom lip, as though she possessed miniature tusks. Horace was not entirely sure what humans were supposed to look like - he had already witnessed such variety- so he could not truly say if she were ugly or not. The woman seemed sure of her opinion concerning the dwarf:

Meerak, half-orc paladin. Original concept art by Justin Sweet, used without permission.

"Hello handsome. What can I do for you?"

The dwarf was unaccustomed to such informality from a fellow of the Order, so he fumbled his words for a minute before explaining he was a Brother Knight, and that he sought her assistance.

"Where's your holy symbol then?"

Horace winced. He had entrusted it to Analicia - for what? Good luck?

Over a cup or two of mint tea Sister Meerak filled Horace in on a little of the background. She explained that were Analicia a prisoner of the Merchants' Guards, she might have been able to assist Horace... but the Prince's own guard company were beyond her influence, fiercely loyal to the city's ruler. When Meerak asked about the status of Horace's "dead friend" she was dismayed to discover that it was Burzum, who had in fact been not only a former comrade-in-arms, but also her lover.

"Before I become a Holy Knight, I was a mercenary: like Burzum, I was a freed slave, repaying the debt of freedom as a soldier of fortune. All members of this order have their pasts, do they not?"

***

Meanwhile, Analicia was granted a tour of a far more salubrious side of the city. Crossing the noble district she had attempted to gatecrash but a few nights before, Analicia found herself being led to the vast gates of a huge palace. White, crimson-veined marble formed a four metre high perimeter fence, heavily manned by guards in polished silver armour, hoplites with horsehair plumes erupting from their silver helms. The gates opened to a huge garden, nestled within which was a white marble palace capped by a golden dome.

Ananlicia's jaw dropped for a moment, before remembering she found such ostentatious displays of wealth to be of poor taste... she would have done things very differently... nonetheless, the elf maid was grateful to be led into a private chamber, beckoned by servants to enjoy her first hot bath in weeks, and was then invited to re-clothe herself in either an elegant, ivory coloured gown, or the fine silk shirt and pants worn by the Prince's guardsman. Surprisingly, she opted for the more feminine of the two outfits, and was paraded into a vast, regal hall. A man sprinted from the far end of the hall, apparently having got out of a huge throne in order to do so, clasping his hands together gleefully.

"Ah ha! An elf!" cried Prince Atembe, gleefully, before becoming slightly downcast. "You.. you are a... female elf?"

"Can you not tell?"

"I don't know... I had heard rumours of these... androgynous elves... I was... curious... no matter!"

"Have you not met an elf before?

"Only one... extraordinarily beautiful, and very clever. An incredibly dangerous combination in anyone, but especially so in a woman..."

As they walked around the gardens, drinking elven wine, Analicia learned much about the eccentric man. Not yet thirty, yet a major political player, he was his father's youngest child, born to his least-favoured wife. When his father died, Atembe had to battle his stepmother, Jalawale, to secure the throne. His first royal decree was to have her beloved Royal Gardens torn up and re-landscaped. He had not exiled her, but wanted her to know he still held power over her.

"I don't even care for gardening. It's just that she loved it so much..."

"What do you love?"

"The sea. I love ships, sailing, strong, young men... but mostly, the sea itself."

The Prince went on to explain how he had served in the Royal Fleet for many years before he assumed the throne, and he missed it terribly. Managing his polity was proving to be more trouble than he had bargained for...

***

Back at the Shrine of the The Holy Order of the Knights of the Diamond Sigil, Horace pondered his next move. Sister Meerak had already sent word of Burzum's death, hinting that maybe she could get a group of her former comrades together and do something about the Analicia situation. But it would not be necessary. The dwarf heard the sound of a horse-drawn carriage pulling up outside.

Ursula's back in yellow!

It was the yellow woman.

"Uh... I was told you'd be here," said Ursula, abrupt as ever, "I sort of ran into one of our bosses..."

A stunning elf maiden, a little shorter than Analicia and with darker skin and hair, but somehow incredibly captivating to look at, strode into the room in a long red and black lace dress. She smiled brightly, fanning herself, as she addressed Horace:

"So: do you have your sword or hammer or shovel or whatever it is your people hit things with to hand?"

Horace stammered. The Lady sighed:

"You wish to help your friend, do you not?"

Horace nodded.

"Likewise. Analicia is very precious to me, both as a clan member and as an... investment. You need to come with me at once."

Rough sketch of Donna Serafina De La Vega

Meerak watched, dumbfounded, as Ursula and Horace filed neatly behind the exotic beauty, the party of three clambering into her carriage. Meerak shook her head, patting Burzum's corpse firmly.

"Well, my old mate, looks like we have a funeral to arrange."

***

Ursula and Horace witnessed the same scenes as Analicia during the approach to the palace: crowded, dusty slums gave way immediately to the palatial residences of Jehemen's upper echelons: wealthy merchants, foreign dignitaries, and the noble Jehemeni families all held not insubstantial parcels of land on the approach to Atembe's seat of power. The streets were paved with stone, and the walls were either brilliantly whitewashed stucco or even more brilliantly white marble. Stately sycamores cast deep, dappled, cool shadows across the streets, softening the albido effect caused by the incredible sun. The huge oaken gates were thrown open, and their carriage trotted up to the palace itself.

They did not have to wait long: barely had they alighted before the Prince and Analicia came into view, arm in arm, giggling wildly.

"But of course, I would have to kill you!"

"Hahahaha!" laughed Analicia..

"Stop laughing, I mean it, I hate sycophants. Who is this... I don't believe it... the woman I warned you about..."

"Darling!"

"Mother!" said Analicia, upon sighting her mentor, Donna Serafina.

"You know each other?"

And so, mounting incredulity gave way to wine and song, as the party was reunited under the eaves of the home of Jehemen's most powerful man. Traditional music was performed by the Prince's court, followed by an enchanting song from Donna Serafina. Ursula mostly sat in silence, as Analicia - and to a certain extent, Horace - charmed their host.

Clarity was provided as to the purpose of their mission. Donna Serafina explained how important the whole of the south was to the north, and how the "historically sensitive" materials , if in the wrong hands, would cause havoc and chaos. The south was once the seat of a powerful empire that dabbled in even more powerful magic, the relics of which were scattered throughout the region.

Donna Serafina elucidated:

"And so we have a convergence of interests: the colleges, the Holy Order, and my own dear family - The Varanesi Elves - are all keen (perhaps for different reasons) that these artifacts are recovered and returned to the north were they can be... studied responsibly."

No-one was really sure what these artifacts were, nor how many of them there were, just that word was out and now there was something of a gold rush afoot. As an aside, Ursula explained that her interests were mainly historical, especially the history of languages, and that she had become a wizard ("Uh, actually I prefer the term magic-user...") almost by accident. She held no interest in arcane mastery, it was just a side effect of uncovering historical data. The Holy Order had offered Horace's services as they were keen that magic use in general not get too out of hand, preferring spellcraft and the like to be performed within a purely religious context, and then, mostly for healing purposes.

"Oh, I was terribly sorry to hear of your dead soldier," said Donna Serafina, "you really should get him replaced." She cast an expectant glance over at the already yawning Prince.

"How many men do you have?" said Horace.

"Well, let me see... we have at least 500 here, right now... not here here, but patrolling the city, manning the walls... of course, I have a garrison either side of the..."

He caught himself for a moment.

"Ha! Of course, I don't need to tell you my entire military structure, do I? If you need help, I can spare you ...." and for the first time, his handsome features contorted into a rather ugly sneer, "...the disgraced one... KAMATE UWALLA! D'GRISHU UNG BAT HUM!"

The Prince clapped his hands together,and an unassuming, if somewhat shamefaced guard presented himself before his Prince.

"Your highness."

"Here," said the Prince, not addressing the soldier directly, "is a man who was once my most trusted guardian. Now, he is disgraced."

Analicia's pointed ears pricked up:

"What's his name?"

"Kuriakos."

The Prince practically spat the four syllables onto the floor.

"That's difficult to say," said Analicia, "can I call him Teddy?"

"He was a great fighter once, but he's no good to me now. Perhaps he can do some good for you."

An awkward silence descended, before the Prince erupted into a fit of laughter:

"In which case, bring him back to me!"

Laughter rang out, but the loudest laugh of all came from the Prince, and long did it echo into the night.


TO BE CONTINUED...

PASS CAMPAIGN NOTES: THE KIZAGU...

I heard we're not supposed to call them dwarfs...

That's a human word, for human aberrations. Dwarfs are neither human, no aberrations. They have their own dwarfs, incidentally, which they call ipotch ("dwarf"), but us humans call gnomes...

They're not dwarfs, they're kizagu (person), they don't speak dwarvish they speak Hizkuntza (speech) and they write Idazketa (writing). They like to keep things simple. And pure. Racially pure...

They love gold though, right?

Yes and no. While humans and elves recognise that the Kizagu have an almost insatiable hunger for all that glitters, they do not do it to adorn their homes or craft fine jewellery (they are likely to do that with silver). Gold has deep religious and cultural significance, and they hoard it deep in the heart of their citadels. Those far-flung dwarven territories which remain have been all but depleted of their natural reserves, and the only reason dwarfs trade with humans is so that they can continue to bolster their legendary coffers.

There is a good reason for this of course...

...they're collecting them for ancient, sleeping dragons that live in the heart of every clan stronghold?

Uh... what? Wherever did you get such a crazy idea from! As we all know, dragons have been extinct for millennia! Admittedly, the Kizagu are considered to have originated during the reign of the dragons, and according to elven legends, dwarfs once rode on the backs of dragons in their war with the giants... and, of course, said dragons were rumoured to have created the dwarfs in order that they could mine the gold they craved in order to fuel their inter-planar ambitions...

...but such talk is mere speculation! There is no real evidence dragons existed at all, let alone remain hidden in the hearts of Kizagu strongholds buried deep beneath ancient mountains!

What about those little dragon-men merchants talk about?

You mean those travellers' tales of diminutive reptiles walking on their hind legs, carrying short swords and speaking Hizkuntza? Kobolds? Fairy tales to make dwarfs seem more magical than they really are! Kobolds certainly are NOT a part slave/ part pet race created by dwarfs to look after their sleeping dragons...

That's disappointing! You'll be telling me the dwarf-maids don't have beards next!

Another overstated phenomenon. Perhaps dwarf maids might be statistically a little hairier than human women (and good luck getting hold of those statistics), but most females are not capable of growing anything like the impressive beards which males wear as a sign of status, so they do not try. However, elder females usually fasten or braid their long hair at the chin, creating a weak illusion of facial hair, and a significant symbol of sage (and thus status) within dwarf society.

Dwarven society is relatively equitable in terms of gender. Obviously females carry and give birth to all children, but child-rearing duties are shared between couples. Raising a child is seen as one of the five parts of eginbahar (duty) and is known as erditza to both males and females, even though the same word is used for the act of childbirth itself.

Beards and hair are very important. Dwarfs consider it a crime to cut hair, neither should it be washed in anything but water. Dwarfs that are ostracised or otherwise expelled usually endure the ritual of having their face shaved. It can take such a long time to grow back that a dwarf might not be permitted to rejoin society that for many decades.

A dwarf with no beard? Well I never!

You've probably met more than you realise. A dwarf with no beard looks like a short, stocky human. Of course, they carry with them the weight of millennia of dwarven culture, which some suspect is what makes them so stooped in stature in the first place.

The weight of dwarven culture? Go on...

The Kizagu life is one of duty: to their dragon-gods, to the Kizagu "nation", to their clan, and lastly to their family. There is no place for individuality, it being seen as an immature state all must pass through before realising their own significance in place of the greater goal of the dragon-gods.  Before turning fifty, each Kizagu embarks on bidaia (voyage)-

Shut the front door! Dragon-Gods?

Oh, sorry... I mean... gods. There is NO connection between the Kizagu and dragons, I assure you!

Well okay then! You were talking about bidets or something?

Bidaia. It means voyage. Each dwarf must go on this in order to sow any wild oats, get any lingering doubts out of the system and to see some of the world before hunkering down for a couple of centuries engaged in repetitive, constant labour with no end in sight apart from death. Most Kizagu will travel around their immediate locale for a year or two, sharing their craft skills as a journeymen. A few will venture a circuit around the whole nation, perhaps picking up an entirely new trade. Rarest of all, a young dwarf of certain pluck might even go so far as to venture into the world of humans. Most come back fairly quickly.

Like a rumspringa? 

Exactly like that. Please understand that for most Kizagu it is a harrowing experience, even if they spend the entirety of their "voyage" in a neighbouring village. The majority of Kizagu are incredibly conservative. Even Kizagu notions of individuality would seem bizarre to a human, and go so far as having a meal at a slightly earlier time than usual, or arriving late for an appointment, or not wearing a hood over one's head when outside.

Dwarves don't really have an internal monologue. Instead, they experience a kind of logos - a guiding consciousness that speaks to them and directs their actions. It is perceived as being the voice of their clan dragon family NOT-dragon god. Mental illness, in dwarf culture, is NOT hearing voices.

So they're all automatons?

Not at all. Though they are slow to react, dwarfs have strong emotions and form attachments that last centuries. They feel love for their people and family, fear for the security of their borders, and hope for the future of tthe Kizagu and their sleeping dragons. The voice they hear is their own consciousness, but they are detached from it, much like early humans are suspected to have been.

Dwarfs which experience this inner voice as though it were their own, however, are the ones least comfortable in dwarf society. Maybe only 1 in every 1,000 births are afflicted by this "illness", and these are the ones most likely to leave dwarven society permanently. Curiously, this afflicts nearly all the ipotch (gnomes), which is why they form their own communities outside of the Kizagu realms.

Those dwarven mercenaries in the north: they're all crazy?

By human standards, I don't know, but in the Kizagu culture these people are perfectly normal. These are not individuals who have rejected dwarven society, but are completing one of the six duties of dwarf life: zerbitzu (service). Dwarven mercenaries earn good money for their clans, which they take in the form of gold. They usually return to their homes after a year or two.

Of course, many of the dwarves employed in this way become progressively more outgoing and boisterous, using alcohol as a coping device for life outside their clan strongholds. This behaviour is not "normal" by Kizagu standards, although it has created a popular misconception of dwarfs as ale-swilling tavern-hounds. Alcohol is restricted to ceremonial uses only, and is ironically utilised in a very sober fashion

Anything else I should know?

As befitting a people who live for several centuries and spend their entire lives working with their hands, Kizagu craftsmanship exceeds nearly all human efforts, and thus commands a high price. If you are willing to make the trek into the highlands, you can pick up masterwork items for a very low price, as long as you pay in gold. Do not expect to receive a warm welcome, however: you will be sequestered in a utilitarian building and contact with other dwarfs will be strictly monitored. The Kizagu regard all foreigners as mildly contaminated, and some clans even don ceremonial robes (similar to those worn during funerary rites) when dealing with outsiders. Legends of rambunctious great halls and free-flowing ale are pure mythology.

Some dwarves venturing beyond their borders do so as part of their zerbitzu, and not just as mercenaries. Many are archaeologists attempting to recover lost dwarven knowledge in abandoned cities and strongholds of yesteryear. Some are slayers, travelling across the wilderness in search of the ancestors of their ancient enemies, the giants.

Dwarves do not eat mud and rocks, they have similar nutritional requirements to humans. The lower foothills are home to rice paddies situated in artificial terraces or steps, and represent the main source of carbohydrates. Meat is rare, and consists of yak or mountain goats, which are herded. Most of their protein is grown in the form of special fungi, tended to by their kobold slaves mushroom farmers.

Kinda interesting, but I was hoping you'd tell me about the legend of the golem...

Well this has never been verified, and may just be xenophobia on the part of humans... but their is a particularly unsettling myth that persists amongst humans about their dwarven cousins, and that is of the golem.

It is said that each dwarven child is presented with a clay effigy of themselves at birth, which they keep about their person all through childhood. When they embark on their bideia, it is placed in the vaults of their clan until they return. The returning dwarf is then supposed to present the effigy simple gifts of metal and precious stones from its journey. The effigy is augmented each year, on the anniversary of the dwarf's return, with souvenirs of the dwarf's experience. Usually these are simply pieces of clay or stones.

When a dwarf dies, they are buried in a sarcophagus guarded by the figure they have been building since childhood. Legend says that the dwarf's spirit sleeps inside this golem - which by now is nearly as big as an ogre - and in times of great distress, these golems can be animated by dwarf magic. Thus, alongside their armies of hammer-and-axe-wielding berserkers and troll-slayers, there is a sleeping horde of giant-sized clay-and-metal golems equal in number to every dwarf that has ever died.

Of course, it's probably just a myth...