Awhile ago, while on guard duty in a Dwarven clanhold (far north and west of Cythera) in Khazhad, I scratched down a bit of lore. I hope you enjoy how life looked from my charactor's eyes


Dwarfisms

Short armed and legged - they shun stream, sea, and sail
The closest they dare - to the water........is ale.

With a fondness for explosions......the smoke and the roar
Nothing warms a Dwarf's heart - or brings chuckles much more
Than a distant explosion at a well-trapped mine door.

Long days in the mines gleaning all types of ores
They scrape Iron and gold, and coal - from the vein pores
Tap they do hammers, shaping fine axe and armor
Each Dwarf is a miner and never a farmer.
The kiln fires burn hotly - the bellows lend spark
As they form the raw ores until just about dark.

True be it a human can lay forth a claim
To the shear mass of intellect lodged in his brain
But a Dwarf gains a wisdom of worldy ways
Shearly by accident, and by living more days.

Long after midnight drunk Dwarves nay wander alone
Tis more fun for the many.............. to lose the way home.

-Demi Dwarfess



Telling Of Tales

By the edge of the forest, just outside of a mine
In a ring round a campfire, on an eve starry-bright
Sit a clan of fine Dwarven, telling tales of a fight
Against foes casting magic... with a terrible might.
That each Dwarf returned - was itself a good sign.

Now to lick wounds, and drink long into night.

Hair wild and flowing - war helmet on head
Garbed in earth tones of greens and of browns rusty-red
And o'er that a suit of looped chainmail strong
They sit by the fire and break into a song
In no time at all they begin to relax
Still, all the while ready - with hammer or axe.

Then each tells his brothers and sisters a tale
To the emptying sounds of "way many an ale"
Loud clanking of mugs as the ale is swashed down
And a hug and an armgrab, in friendship aboud.

The telling of tales - aye, they heard them before
But a telling of battle should be heard plenty more.

-Demi Dwarfess