The dwarves are a mighty people. Stout and strong as the mountains themselves, their fighting prowess is

legendary. However, they are also clever craftsmen and shrewd traders. Being honorable, well, at least as

honorable as any merchant can claim to be, and far more open to trade than other magical races, the

dwarves are close friends with the Human race. Some clans even choose to ally themselves with the

Humans and fight with them in their eternal war against the dark elves, orcs, and demons. Held back only

by their lack of children, and a certain penchant for drinking strong fermented beverages.... the Dwarves

are truly one of the prominent races of the land.

- Unknown Author. Original text somehow grown onto tree bark and then traced into encyclopedia Year 535 PW.

Encylcopedia Gallasus

The Stonegrower clan was not a typical Dwarven clan. A decade ago, they had left their home city of Carth, in

the Northern mountains, and had traveled under the open sky for hundreds upon hundreds of miles to reach

fabled Dragonclaw mountains, a place where no Dwarf had set foot before. That is where they planned to build

a grand new Bastion for the Dwarven people. Unfortunately, It all went quickly awry. Starting with a troop of

fifty thousand dwarves, they were certain that nothing could stop them. However, many of them grew weary of

traveling and sleeping under the empty sky. All too soon, they started to desert. It started with the eldest ones.

Many of these elders had never wished to leave the mountain in the first place, but had finally been persuaded

by the hot-blooded youngsters. Once they turned back, floods of loners, families, and even soldiers left as well,

missing the warm comforts of their ancestral home. When they finally reached the mountain, only half that

number were left. Something so small would not stop them though! They discovered a massive natural cave

complex and forged downward, through a warren of wererats, a horde of goblins, and many other great

challenges that live on in their stories, until finally, they reached a large cavern on the tenth level of the caves.

There they built their fortress: Deurm. It was named after the great king who had led them to their new home

Deurm Stonegrower. Sadly, he had fallen in battle only two days before they found sanctuary. 150 years later,

although Deurm, with only one hundred-fifty thousand dwarves, is still small when compared to the other

Dwarven Capitals, it is considered unassailable by all who have seen it. These defenses came at a price however,

and now the city has grown overcrowded. So, with brave hearts, small families left Deurm to start their own

villages and expand the influence of their clan.

"And that you little rascals, is the story of our people." a kindly old dwarf finished with a smile. "Now off to

bed before you're mothers bend me over their knees and spank me for keeping you up past your bedtimes!"

he continued with a glint in his eye.

He was sitting outside of his hut on a patch of cave moss that grew near a small burbling stream. Surrounding

him was a small circle of Dwarven children. They had been quietly sitting there, wide-eyed as he told the story

of their forefathers, but now as they were reminded of their impending doom.... er bedtime, they quickly began

to be more agitated. Finally, there was a cluster of dwarven women all eager to retrieve their children and put

them to sleep.

"But Eldwah pwease!! One mowe stowy!"

"I don' wanna got to sleep!"

"PWEASEW!!" they ended up begging in unison.

The elder smiled indulgingly and was about to surrender to their demands when he suddenly noticed the

warning gazes he was receiving from some of the mothers. As an Elder, he had already had some

experience with female dwarves, especially mothers, but still made a bold, in his opinion, decision for

the kids' sake.

"Alrighty then you little tykes! If you're all very good little boys and girls I'll tell you some more stories

tomorrow alright? Good! Now remember, good little Dwarves always go to sleep after they wash up

and eat all their cave mushrooms too!"

As the sleepy children were all led away by their mothers, the elder finally relaxed and leaned back

against the cave moss to look at the caverns ceiling. As the founder of this village, he had put in many

years of effort to make life so stable for the next generations. Now that he saw their small happy faces

he smiled, certain that it was well worth the effort. Especially his granddaughter Torina. Although her

parents had died when she was just an infant, she still remained a ray of sunshine in his sorrows.

"Elder Tarum!", an urgent voice shouted, interrupting his reverie.

"Yes?! What's it? I'm over here Roson!" he groggily shouted when he noticed that the dwarf didn't see him.

"Elder," Roson said panting," the watchmen you posted spotted a wererat party coming up from the depths!

There's Five hundred of them."

"What?! Five Hundred?! Blast this holiday! I knew we shoulda trained some villagers to fight!"

Fivehundred wererats would normally not be a cause for concern to even the small contingent of 50 warriors.

With the support of the 400 villagers, the were rats would be routed every time because, their

rusty weapons and claws could not easily pass heavy dwarven mail. However, with the celebration of

Deurm's founding 30 of the guards had returned to their families in the city, certain that there was no force

close enough to raid the village. Unfortunately, their sudden appearance probably made them a crack squad

accustomed to raiding and butchery, and armed with better weapons.

"Wake everyone," the elder says as he runs to his hut to strap on his armor," tell them to gather all the

supplies they can and gather at the upward tunnel. Find the other guards. we'll slow down those damned rats."

"With all due respect elder, you can't stay with us." the young guard resolutely said.

"And why not? I may be old, but I'm not old enough to sit and watch as ma people die!" Tarum angrily retorted.

"They need a leader Tarum. You're the only one who knows the way to the surface! You also need to protect

them. You know how many were lost the first time we came down here! We all have our duties elder. You must

do yours just as I... I must do mine. Lead you're people well. We'll buy you as much time as we can." Roson

turned towards the guardhouse and began raising the villagers.

15 minutes later...

350 dwarves stood near the upper entrance of their village. Mothers, Fathers, children, all stood together

fearful and loaded with all that they could carry on their backs.

Tarum left his granddaughter with another family, and ran to where the mayor was desperately organizing

the refugees.

"I count 350 where are the others?" He yelled as the column milled about.

"They decided to stay with the guards." the mayor grimly replied.

After a momentary glance across the village to commemorate the time and lives spent to build it, Tarum ran

to the front of the column which had still not moved.

"Come on people! We need to move! Roson and his men can't buy us much time! Lets not let their sacrifice

be in vain! Follow me!" he turned and began leading the dwarves away from what they had spent years

building. Eventually, a window popped up.

Warning you are currently evacuating Tren village. If you complete this process, the village will

become "Ruins" and the people will lose the "Villager" status and become "Refugees".

Continue? Yes/No

With tears in his eyes, Tarum accepted and led his refugees upward, toward what they thought would be

safety.

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Hello Readers! Your favorite (makes puppy dog eyes) charming author is back! The story is getting a bit more complicated and I will be more constant in my updates for this next week. I also have an idea for a second story.... Hey nobody told you that got it? Only readers who actually read my little things down here get that juicy bit of info. I'll be writing the first 5 chapters of that as a test run and uploading them together so that I can get some honest feedback. Basic story line: knight gifted with immortality by Gods for great deeds or something or other, is given a village in mountains which he grows to a huge city using charm, intelligence, a speck of magic, and a crap ton of gold. wars, raids, (and maybe even a dragon?) are thrown in as challenges. That'll be done in my spare time and will be a far far second priority to this story.

Anyways, as always

Thanks for reading,

An Infantile Treant