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So I decided to play a dwarven (lorekeeper) bard (archivist) in an up-coming game....
I have decided that his perform will be lecturing on dwarven history...using a Ben Stein/Eeyore type of voice and characteristics.
So I would like to gather as many 20-30 second speeches about dwarven history and some of their enemies history to use when he does his performances.
Please help by posting some interesting history (real or imagined) that I can use in-game....nothing too specific, just general stuff. I am always impressed with the imagination this board shows.
Can't wait to see some stuff! Thanks in advance.
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Just to add....maybe some ideas could be small battles, large battles, heroic actions of certain clan-leaders, inventors using their creations for the first time, epic battles with monsters....it is set in Golarion (Varisia I believe) but with some name changing and generalizations I think any setting's good dwarven stories could work well.
We will begin with the Six Great Lords of Stone. First and greatest is Grandfather Stone, he sacrificed his immortal body that his children could live free of the primal chaos that seethed at the beginning of time. He forged his bones into mountains. His blood cooled to become iron. The earth that all peoples walk today is thanks to the proud and selfless Grandfather Stone. By his grace we may live...Hail the Stone. Born are we of stone and by stone do we live...Hail the Stone.
The second Lord of Stone was Aria. Her sacifice was her beloved husband. Her pain was great and her tears fell unto the land that was once her huband. As her tears fell upon the bones of Grandfather Stone they harden and became gems. Legends say that when the last tear is found Aria will remake her beloved and end the world.
Don't know much about the Golarian setting, but here goes.
In the last age, Clan Bagomir fought a long drawn out war with the hobgoblins of -------. During the Battle of Vanyr's Bridge, two stought dwarves, Ebrek Bearsark and Adomorn Battlesworn found themselves seperated from their battalion and surrounded by hostile forces. The two fought back to back to ensure that their enemies could not outflank them. Hours later, the exhausted dwarves found themselves victorious, and after crawling over the mounds of defeated foes returned to their battle-camp victorious. That battle, fought by only 2 honored dwarves, was key in the eventual victory over the evil hordes. The lesson? If nothing else, a dwarf should be able to rely on another dwarf.
A short maxim: Better to expend a thousand arrows and break a thousand axes than lose one dwarf.
I'll think of more later, I live for this stuff in my games.
The War of Jenkin's Beard began as a drinking contest. Clan Stoneheart and Clan Coldaxe had often clashed over mining rights on their territorial borders, and the drinking contest was seen as a way to promote mutual understanding between the two rival clans. Unfortunately, the combination of massive quantities of dwarvish ale and simmering resentments flared into an epic donnybrook in which the Clan Stoneheart's drinking champion, Hrolf Flintfinger, cut off the beard of Clan Coldaxe's champion, Jenkin Gemcutter. Jenkin, humiliated, fled the hall with his clansmen and returned to their tunnels in a fury.
Jenkin's beard was displayed in front of the Coldaxe folkmoot as a symbol of Stoneheart perfidy. A lengthy conflict resulted that ended up gaining Clan Coldaxe several valuable veins of ore from the chastened Stoneheart Clan. To this day, Jenkin's beard is flown on the battle standard of Clan Coldaxe when they go to war.
You don't know nuthin' about Dwarven History, if you haven't read the sagas of Boatmurdered, Headshoots and Syrupleaf!!!
Greta Granitelegs, grandmatron of Clan Granitelegs, was the first to discover what we now call quicksilver ore. Everytime she hit a vein of it, she cursed and spat and spent hours cleaning it out of her mine. "Blasted stuff fouls up all my gear! And cleaning it out is harder than teaching a goblin math!", she would bellow. All told, House Granitelegs ended up with 600 barrels of the stuff stored in their warehouses. Then one day, Tyregg Granitelegs, grandson of Greta Granitelegs, happened upon Greta's unwanted stores. Tyregg fiddled, fooled, and experimented around with the stuff. Thanks to him, we now know that quicksilver ore is a vital component to the golems that we use for the defense of our great halls and the labor in our mines. The lesson that we should learn from this is that the Earth always gives us her bounty for a reason, we just have to find out what that reason is.
Oops just re-read your original post and saw that you said Ben Stein/Eeyore, not Ben Stein/Aesop. Guess I should stop with the fable format now.
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@TheWhiteKnife: The more dramatic the text the greater the irony of it's delivery.
Imagine the Illiad recited by Eeyore...or Shakespeare recited by Mr. Fishy. Mac Beth's Trollop would not be pleased.
Two centuries ago the Linnnorm King Aethelfrith sent men to demand tribute from the hall of Guthar Stonebrother. Unwilling to deliver the demanded tribute Guthar called for the dwarven hero Hrothgar the Troll Breaker. Hrothgar, friend to Guthar's father Osgar, answered the summons. Aethelfrith raged at Guthar's refusal to send tribute. Dishonored and vengeful Aethelfrith gathered a warband of 30 men and marched on the hall of Guthar Stonebrother. However Hrothgar awaited them on the road to Guthar's hall. Aethelfirth recognized Hrothgar and out of respect asked him to stand aside, Hrothgar refused. Hrothgar instead offered Aethelfirth a single gold piece for his trouble. Enraged Aethelthirth order he men to charge...Hrothgar shook his head and readied his hammer, Flintshard.
The thunder of Flintshard's blow shook the snow covered hills flanking the pass to Guthar's Hall. There was no second blow as Hrothgar had performed his duty. The hills released their burden into the valley burying Aethelfirth his men and the Savior of Guthar's hall, Hrothgard. When the snows retreated at last Aethelfirth and his men where recovered, Hrothgard was not. Flintshard was returned to Hrothgar's clan, his body was forever lost. Some whisper that the old dwarf was taken by the earth as a reward for his life of heroism.
With this hammer, which was forged on the anvil cast by Jathon Steelweaver, whose anvil was forged on the anvil of Olgnath Stonefist, whos anvil was forged on the anvil of gronk the mighty, whose anvil was cast from the skull of the first frost giant Higulfir, I smite at thee!
(the dwarven version of the "begat" parts of the bible)
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As an aside, next time you're writing a thread title
Later, the warchief Mizza begat Jhero, who begat Gond, who begat Erighilau, who travelled to the far north and discovered a small but valuable mithril mine. He named the mine, and the region surrounding it, Redroch. A town-comb-village [sic] formed around it for a short time, with residents rationing out the profitable ore. Erighilau's son Remet was forced to organise the town-comb-village [sic] into a fighting force when he discovered that a wartribe of evil orcs was in control of a silver-rich region that could revitalise their economy.
Remet and his warband of seventy-eight warriors left the outpost in the capable hands of his visiting uncle Gerog. They went barefoot over seven miles of rough-hewn stone in full armour. The orcs were unaware, but the dwarves were also caught by surprise: the wartribe's adepts had summoned demons. The demons overran and devoured his entire party and caught Remet in a tight tunnel. Desperately, he noticed a crack in the ceiling. With an expert toss of his last pristine battleaxe, he collapsed the rock, crushing his pursuers. [The battle was won.] OR [But the fight was not over. >Scroll down.]
[apparentlyoldmeme]His town-comb-village [sic]'s diviner sent him a message via spell: "The battle is lost. You must retreat and marshal our forces here."
"No! I must defeat the demons!" he shouted.
The magic wavered. "No, Remet. You are the demons."
And then Remet was a zombie.[/apparentlyoldmeme]
Cool, still looking for more stories though. I know we have some Dwarfaphiles around here, have at it!
I'll throw in my drunken effort.
Hold the line!
“Dolgrin, we must hold the line as long as we can! Edrukk, the rest of the company will need your healing and blessing at the secondary positions!”, bellowed Alk over the roars of the charging orcs.
“Alk, you need a third shield for a proper wall with Grunyar fallen and healing and blessing as well. More senior clerics will support the company with the defenses roused.”, Edrukk said calmly while channeling Torag’s healing power before the wave of enraged orcs crashed into them.
Gruff Dolgrin said, “There’s work to be done.”, and three axes fell as one into the chests of orcs charging the narrow tunnel. Mad flesh and hate hit Dwarven steel like a gate as the orcs piled into the narrows.
Steel, armor and shields warded off orcish steel as three fought like they were one. Blood soaked the stones as they cleaved orcish bones, but the orcs they rushed on without end. They all knew the cost, and it seemed hope was lost as they killed and gave ground as one unit.
As they ran out of ground to give where the narrow tunnel opened the cleric spoke the command word. Thank Torag for our preparations! The dead falls came down and crushed orcs to the ground slowing their vile predation.
But the orcs would not stop; they came over the top, and their rage it surely sustained them. The dwarves knew they would die, but they still had to try though their wounds sorely pained them.
The dwarves died as they lived giving all they could give and working in one accord. They slowed the orcs down giving all for the crown, and they blunted the tip of the hoard.
Though the battle was long their brothers held strong, and the orcs broke on the rocks. We’ll praise their valor in song all ages long as we drink to them here on the docks.
And lo, this is the creation of the first beer barrel. The first stave was of Ash, cut from the sacred valley of Ka'noch. Bound to this was the second stave of birch, carved from the chair leg of the giantess Silawhee. The third stave was Cedar, taken from the chest of the dark wizard Moloch....
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In 3842 by the old reckoning, the 7 lords of the kingdom of Nogrod came to the consensus that their people would not survive another winter in their homeland. The horde, as they came to be known, was too massive and fought with a steely determination that was not seen before. They retreated to the small human kingdom of Ruslava. Bolstered by the warriors of this human kingdom and of their allies a small Contingent of their people survived. Alas none of the lords of Nogrod survived, making their final battle at what is now known as seven dwarf falls. Their noble sacrifice at the hands of Ogres, and golbins allows their people even now to live in exile awaiting the day that they can rid Nogrod of the scourge living within their defeated lands.