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    Posted: 03 Apr 2015 at 02:13
Below is all the factions names with all hub sayings, My goal is to consolidate all faction writings and hub writings into one consolidated location in order to find hidden things in elgea. 




Edited by GM Rikoo - 16 Apr 2015 at 20:33
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Clan Bealagh
Excerpt from the Transcribed Histories of the Dwarf Clans as told from the mouth of Elder Dunbarr Rockcrusher 

Let us not forget the great tragedy of Clan Bealagh. 

Once an eminent noble house during the days of Duraz Karag, that vast Dwarven kingdom that is now but legend and fable, they have fallen so far. Many centuries ago, the other Clans considered Clan Bealagh the most influential and powerful Great Clan. It was said that during that glorious century where Duraz Karag prospered beyond belief, what we now call the Platinum Century, four out of the six members of the Dwarven Grand Council were from Clan Bealagh. 

And why not? 

They had vast amounts of wealth and their nobles were highly-skilled craftsman and extremely skilled politicians. They were those that were born into Clan Bealagh that seemed to know the secrets of stone and rock so well that the mountains held no secret from them. Some from the Clan even boasted that their lineage stretched back to the First Dwarf himself. While you or I may today doubt the veracity of this claim, I have met with many an Elder who have regaled me with tales from their own families, and it seems that they all concur on one thing: Clan Bealagh was well-respected and many of our ancestors saw them as leaders, the Great Clan that would lead our race to claim the many riches that Illyria had to offer. 

Unfortunately, the Dark Century came. 

Legions of greenskins invaded our ancestral home. They came, marching into our mountains, army after army of snarling Darkskin Orcs, with Hobgoblins, Goblins and Kobolds swelling their ranks, their greedy black hearts after the huge mountains of wealth that our ancestors had accumulated through our blood, sweat and tears. 

The Dwarves of Duraz Karag repelled the first few ranks of greenskins, but there seemed to be no end to the ranks of their enemies; after killing one orc, it seemed that three had now taken its place. Wave after wave of greenskins dashed against our ancestor’s steely shield and mighty halberds, but they kept on coming. 

Clan Bealagh, as military leaders of the Dwarven Defence, ordered the Dwarves deeper into the mountains, retreating before the foul greenskin horde. The mountain’s tunnels and caverns would ensure that the United Dwarven Army did not get outflanked by their more numerous enemies. 

It was a good strategy, but alas, the greenskins had brought reinforcements to counter this very tactic. Monsters of fire and dust, bursting with unbridled fury, entered the tunnels and decimated the ranks of the United Dwarven Army. Shields and armour offered little protection against claws of flames. These monstrous nightmares were so full of hate and anger that they killed almost as much of their greenskin allies as they did the Duraz Karag Dwarves. Even the combined might of Clan Bealagh and Clan Moedagh were unable to stop these creatures, and they fell to fiery claws and wicked swords alike. 

And so it was the end of Duraz Karag, and with it, the rule of Clan Bealagh. 

We are now the only remaining heirs of this once powerful clan. My father told me this story, as his father told him, and such is the way the legends have been recounted down the generations since Duraz Karag fell into the wicked grasp of our most hated enemies. 

Our shields are now rusty and the weapons are now not nearly half as shiny as those our ancestors gripped. We now wait, struggling to survive against both kobolds and elves. No matter how dire it gets, all of us now have the same dream: to once again walk down the tunnels and halls of our ancestral homeland. We long to retake the glory that was once ours, in an age of prosperity and peace, the glory and wealth that once belonged to our great and powerful Clan. 

We will stand united again, under one Great King, one banner and we will drive the greenskins and their evil taint from our beloved mountains once and for all. 

Clan Bealagh will not rest until we hear the delightful sound of our enemies’ skulls being crushed under our steel-toed boots.


Glinntre [Clan Bealagh]

When Clan Bealagh first settled upon the surface world at the dawn of the Second Age, this solitary mountain was all that they owned. 
From here, they grew to be - at the height of the Second Age - the greatest of the Dwarf Clans of Elgea. Now, they have grander and more dramatic strongholds. 
But Dwarves do not rush towards change. After thousands of years, the Clan remembers where they first began, and they remain committed to their first fortress.

Caerlea [Clan Bealagh]

The mountaintop stronghold of Caerlea is built according to ancient plans, and ornamented in traditional Dwarven patterns. 
The site chosen for the city conforms to all of the conventional wisdoms regarding where a Dwarf citadel should stand, and the fortifications follow designs which are thousands of years old. 
There is nothing innovative or fanciful about Caerlea, nor is there meant to be. It is designed only to endure.

Tor Gorrak [Clan Bealagh]

A single huge mountain rises from a sea of hills, which roll like waves about its base, and atop the peak stands a great stone hall, in the traditional Dwarven style. 
The fortress is clearly inpregnable. What is not obvious is why many Dwarves consider it the greatest work of Dwarven engineering of the Second Age. Other strongholds are grander, 
or have more ostentatious fortification. But Dwarf scholars point to early maps of the region, which show only hills, and no mountain here; combining wisdom in both sorcery and engineering, 
ancient Dwarves raised not only the stronghold, but the mountain upon which it stands.



Edited by demdigs - 16 Apr 2015 at 18:31
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Clan Moedagh
Excerpt from the Transcribed Histories of the Dwarf Clans as told from the mouth of Elder Dunbarr Rockcrusher 

They were the generals of the armies of Duraz Karag. Clan Bealagh might have provided a majority of the Dwarven Clan Council and a few Great Kings, but it was Clan Moedagh that led the Dwarven armies into battle against our foes. No other Great Clan has produced as many gifted generals and warriors as have Clan Moedagh.

General Angarr Thunderaxe, High General of the United Dwarven Army. Thomgarr Umberstone, Grand Master of the exotic Ugrosh Double-headed Axe. Orikk “Orc Splitter” Ironweld and his famous axe Orc's Bane. The beautiful and deadly Hildarr Rumblestone, who could throw her axes with pinpoint accuracy even with her eyes closed. 

These heroes hailed from none other than Clan Moedagh, and during the Platinum Century, the Clan was the powerful right arm of Clan Baelagh, marshalling the Dwarven armies against those enemies foolish enough to enter into the fabled Dwarven homeland. 

Just like Clan Bealagh, Clan Moedagh is now barely a shadow of its former glory and power. They too have the same dream, of once again being united under one Great King and one banner, but unlike the other Clans, they keep to their own, their ancient alliance with the other Clans now forgotten. They dwell in their forts and underground cities to the north west of Tor Carrock, having little to do with others, and interested only in ridding their tunnels and mountains of the greenskins that now infest them at every turn and corner. 

I have visited them before, a few times, in their city of Tor Dannu. 

They are a changed people, different than what their ancestors must have been like. Humans often consider our ancient race as a dour and taciturn lot; that is how I viewed the dwarves in Tor Dannu. Never did they speak ten words when five would do just as well; everywhere I went, I was greeted politely, but very curtly, as if even speaking to another Dwarf was taking away from their sole purpose in life: killing our hated enemies, the wicked greenskins. 

I walked among the very best of their warriors, and even I, a Dwarf who has seen many centuries and been in many bloody battles, become intimidated. They stand no taller than any other dwarf, but they looked so different compared to our people. Their hair and beards were wild and unkempt, some even going so far as to colour them with various bright dyes. Their faces were painted with bright war-paints, in vivid colours and ferocious designs. 

And those are just the regular soldiers. 

The elite warriors were called Berserkers. They were like their brethren, but more wild-looking, more unkempt, more ferocious. All of them eschewed the use of armor, preferring to go bare-chested, armed with their humongous battle axes, which, if what I saw at a training session was correct, they wield with amazing ease and deadly accuracy. Fighting almost seems like some sort of passion for them; a bloody haze seems to descend over them, the eyes shot with blood lust. I was part of an expedition party that ran into a band of twenty kobolds – two of their best Berserkers reduced the greenskins to bloody bits in less than ten seconds. They reminded me of the stories about Lava Demons that my father used to tell me; beings who spewed death and destruction wherever they go. 

I worry about our brethren in Clan Moedagh. Their quest to rid the greenskins from our ancestral tunnels and homeland is a noble one, but I fear that by turning their backs on all the other Dwarven Clans, they’ll lose their connection and focus with the First Dwarf and our Dwarven heritage. The rituals and deadly training that they put their warriors through break many a mind, and some now live only for battle, and nothing else. 

They are missing the mountains for the hills, as my Father and his Father before him would say. We can only pray that they open their arms and hearts to us once again, as they did many, many centuries ago. We will cleanse the filth from our ancestral homeland, together, as one, not alone.

Tor Dannu [Clan Moedagh]

The ancestral stronghold of Clan Moedagh, Tor Dannu was the home of the woman who bore the first three warleaders of the Clan, and of her seven husbands. 
And to this day every ruler of the Clan has taken up residence here. As the Clan's most prized stronghold, more money and attention has been lavished upon its defences than upon any other Dwarf stronghold still standing today,
 and its fortifications are a triumph of Dwarven siege engineering. The citadel has stood for over two thousand years, and its defenders are determined that it will last at least two thousand more.

Rosdin [Clan Moedagh]

Clan Moedagh still calls this 'our Elven castle'. It has been eight hundred years since they snatched it away from the dying Empire of Alda Amar; 
eight hundred years since they tore out every trace of Elven decoration; eight hundred years since they disinterred the Elven bones from the temple tombs and reburied them in a pit on the plains. 
Eight hundred years ago, they rebuilt the place, to Dwarven design. But for a Clan which has stood for over two thousand years, eight hundred years is not so long.

Clegerick [Clan Moedagh]

The cities of Clan Moedagh are built like giant castles, each expanded and strengthened over a thousand years or more. Clegerick epitomises this military design, and its location, 
too, adds to its defensive strength. It is said that here the Dwarves have built a mountain upon a mountain amidst the mountains. As the inscription above the gate reads, 
Clegerick embodies the principle of “Strength In Stone”.


Edited by demdigs - 16 Apr 2015 at 18:33
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Clan Reashag
Excerpt from the Transcribed Histories of the Dwarf Clans as told from the mouth of Elder Dunbarr Rockcrusher 

They’ve been one of the Great Clans since the early days of fabled Duraz Karag. Clan Reashag, unlike Clan Bealagh and Clan Moedagh, have never really stood out in terms of power, wealth or glory. 

How then did they come to achieve the status of Great Clan then, you may ask. 

Well, Clan Reashag might have been a rather quiet, unassuming Great Clan, but their contributions to the Dwarven race have been vital. Without their knowledge and skills, Duraz Karag might have been a lot smaller, and a lot less glorious. 

You see, growing food in an underground environment is a very challenging task. It’s not something that gets you a lot of fame compared to leading the people to wealth and glory, or leading our armies against the hordes of enemies banging on our door, but it is very instrumental for our survival as a race. The very early dwarf clans had difficulty producing much food from the soil and minerals in our ancestral home, and they also didn’t fare too well with the scarce farmable areas along the outside of the mountains themselves. 

Among those early Dwarven clans there was one clan in particular that paved the way for many future agricultural developments. They started studying the secrets of the soil, and conducted centuries of research into finding a way to alleviate the constant food shortage problem. The dwarves at that time had to import a lot of food from the humans, who had access to far richer, arable land; they wanted to find a way for the great Dwarven kingdom to be more independent with regards to their food supply. 

And so this one inquisitive clan managed to come up with revolutionary farming methods that drastically increased the supply of food for all Dwarven kind. They managed to find a way to create soil that provided just the right environment for many of our current crops to thrive and prosper. With this soil and special farming methods, the clan managed to significantly increase the yield for kairn grass, mountain barley and wheat, mushrooms, rock potatoes and a lot of other crops as well. 

The Dwarven kingdom that would eventually go on to become Duraz Karag began to grow and swell, and this hitherto unknown clan granted Great Clan status. 

They came to be known as Clan Reashag. 

And not only did they totally revolutionize the farming of our crops, but they began to delve deeper and deeper into the secrets of alchemy. It took another few centuries for them to discover some of that art’s many secrets, but when they did, it was yet another breakthrough for the Dwarven race. A lot of the things we use today, like bluegrass sleeping draughts, or yorrite rust-cleaning solution, were the creations of Clan Reashag. Their alchemical discoveries were also applied to a lot of other uses, such as in warfare, mining and blacksmithing. 

Today, Clan Reashag remain just as unassuming and quiet as ever. There is a certain…ease about them that we other Dwarves lack. They spend their days in Caer Morock, up north in Norweld, tending to their farms and enjoying their tobacco and wine. We Dwarves have always wondered whether the Dwarves from Clan Reashag are really Dwarves at all, or just stockier Halflings! Their relaxed pace of life have certainly left quite an impression on the easy-going Halflings Keepers of the Golden Field, and the two have formed strong ties of friendship. 

Still, I would be wary discounting Clan Reashag as nothing more than soft, pampered Dwarves. 

They have, for centuries, helped the Halflings and other civilized parts of Illyria defend themselves against the hordes of monsters from the cold Northlands. Their comprehensive knowledge of the northern monsters is impressive, and their allies have always spoken well of them, with praises about their commitment to help, their vast experience in dealing with these monsters, and their effective battle strategies. Now, if we could only convince them to commit a little bit more to our efforts of reclaiming Duraz Karag from the foul greenskins…

Caer Morock [Clan Reashag]

The most unassuming of the great Dwarf strongholds, Caer Morock's huge walls nonetheless provide ample protection for the rulers of Clan Raeshag, 
whose townhouses and halls lie within. It is a city of quiet solidity, home to a well-regulated market, a well-disciplined army, and scores of quiet ale-houses whose brews are often praised as the best in all Elgea.


Edited by demdigs - 16 Apr 2015 at 18:34
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Golden Fields
From the journal of Saxil of Tundale, diplomat, 1019. 

In my career as a diplomat, my missions to the Halflings' Golden Fields have always been amongst the most relaxing, and most infuriating. 

Summer in the Golden Fields is a truly beautiful time. Soft mists hang lazily over the orchards and fields at dawn. Gentle golden sunshine bathes the fields at noon, and the evenings are pleasantly mild. A visit in the autumn, however, is to be recommended. It is not that the land is more beautiful, although the golds and reds of the turning leaves are admittedly wonderful, but rather that by the late autumn, the Halflings have brought in their harvests. 

Dark ales, sweet and uncomplicated white wines, succulent slabs of lean meat, richly burnished apples, dense sausages - all stacked high in storehouses here by wintertime. It is simple fare, but undeniably satisfying, although connoisseurs of elegant cooking might mock this as simple and provincial. 

I have noted that the armies of the Kingdom of Illyria, and many local forces besides, are keen to recruit Halfling cooks to fill their soldiers' bellies, but equally, I have never visited a refined court where royal banquets are prepared by these homely chefs. Still, even the most jaded gourmand would have to acknowledge the crystal beauty of their cider. 

But to talk of the land and the food is to overlook the key component of the Golden Fields - its people. And these diminutive folk fall far short, in almost all respects, of what one might hope for. These are not clever, industrious folk, who have applied hard work and intelligence to compensate for their small stature, as have, say, the Dwarven folk. 

They do, admittedly, work hard, but only because they lack the imagination to do otherwise. Their craftsmen are poorly skilled, their rulers apathetic, their arts crude. 

Any who have cause to deal with their merchants or diplomats will immediately wonder how such a hopeless race might ever build a domain, without being crushed by outsiders, and all the more since the Duchy of Keppen barely conceals its greed for these folks' fertile lands. Their rulers seem oblivious to outside threats. Their merchants seem barely interested in selling their wares, are unadventurous in seeking out new goods, and are apparently unaware of the notion of haggling. To negotiate with these folk, as a diplomat or trader, is infuriating. How can one deal with people so small-minded? 

How, then, have the Fields retained their independence? 

In truth, I suspect that these two incompetencies, in diplomacy and trade, are the very factors which, by happy accident, have kept the Golden Fields safe. 

There are many wealthy lords on the Council of Illyria who are much enamoured of the Halflings' pipe-weed and cider, and they both benefit from generous gifts from the Keepers of the Golden Fields and also have invested their own silver in estates there. 

Some of the most productive estates here are owned by the Council Lords, and managed by their human stewards. And some of the foremost merchants in Centrum are in the habit of buying homely goods at absurdly low prices from these people. I am also told that there are Dwarven merchants of Clan Reashag, who enjoy equally easy relations with the Halflings. Barely troubled to haggle, the Halflings are simply accustomed to selling their wares at ridiculous prices to the Humans and Dwarves whom they already know well. And so, as outside powers are aware, any attempt to annex the Halflings' Fields would damage the interests of many Council members and also anger Clan Reashag, thus, none have dared to take this risk. 

However, while this keeps the Golden Fields safe, it is perhaps fair to say that they are not, in fact, an independent power. The Halflings long ago gave up their independence. Their fate and safety is in the hands of the Council, and perhaps of the Dwarves, and their own rulers lack the imagination to even notice.

Grovinton [Keepers of Golden Fields]

Grovinton has been described as the most enormous hamlet in Illyria. There are few central buildings, no planned streets, no amenities. 
It is simply as if hundreds of little villages have all been built at once, and squashed up together. If there is anything remarkable about this place, 
it is perhaps the huge city wall, which visitors describe as the most imposing village stockade ever built.


Edited by demdigs - 16 Apr 2015 at 18:53
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Tilverdale [Tinkers]

Excerpt from 'The Other Races of Illyria are All Crazy' by Ladro Redfoot, an incredibly popular guidebook with all Halflings (but not really with anyone else) 

In my travels, I have been to Tilverdale a handful of times. And each time has been a very chaotic experience. Fun? Yes. Safe? I can’t guarantee that! 

You see, just to get to Tilverdale, you’ll have to take a special cable thingamabob that the Gnomes invented. Okay, you might be able to leg it up all the way up Mount Tilver, but that’s at least half a day’s climb at a very steep angle. Look, I’m as hardworking as the next Halfling, but there’s no way that I’m going to climb up the mountain and risk dropping like a bag of stones, you hear? Not to mention the mountain cats that have lairs all over Mount Tilver…. 

So yes, you’d have to take a special cable thingamabob. You’ll be greeted by a very cheerful gnome at around fifty feet off the ground, and he’ll charge you a silver piece to take you all the way up into Tilverdale. How does the whole contraption work? Well, first you step into a cage that’s attached to a very thick strand of steel wire that goes all the way from the fifty feet mark into Tilverdale itself. 

Your too-cheerful gnome guide will use a crossbow to shoot some sort of arrow that emits a tinkling sort of sound, like spoons beating against each other. Then, huge gears in Tilverdale will turn, and your cage will start to move, going up into the air, and into the city itself. It takes maybe five, six minutes, and is best done on an empty stomach, trust me on that one. 

When you need to leave Tilverdale, you take the same cage, but it will be going down on another wire. Don’t ask me how it works; some things I would rather not know. The gnomes told me they haven’t lost anyone to this particular thingamabob... yet. 

So when you’re actually inside the capital of the Tinkers Union, expect to see some crazy, crazy things. It’s like a human market inside there, but at least ten times worse. We Halflings aren’t much a fan of being all orderly, but the gnomes are on the opposite side of the spectrum... way opposite. 

As soon as you get there, try to hire a guide, or you’ll never manage to get around. The streets and alleys seemed to have been built on someone’s last-minute whim, rather than any actual planning. They were crooked and windy, with some apparently leading to nowhere. When I asked my rather excitable guide why this was so, she told me that they did actually follow guidelines. When I expressed disbelief, she told me that they simply followed 
"a mathematical formula based on urban growth dynamics". I had no idea what that meant, but I humored her with a nervous laugh. 

And wait until you see their drinking holes. First time I found myself at one of the more popular taverns, named 'Liquid Courage', l was half-tempted to run out again, screaming in fear. 

Luckily my guide told me that the fire-breathing dragon in the tavern was a mechanical one and that it was used to concoct certain drinks. I had a bit of fun after that, and I have to say, even though I still think the beer we brew is the best, the gnomes don’t make half-bad drinks. Just try not to get confused with all the various colours. I find that the best policy with Gnomes is that when in doubt, you better ask. 

They really love us Halflings and every time I leave, they all advise me to bring more friends the next time I’m around. I tell them we Halflings are a hardworking lot and that traveling isn’t something we have much time for. 

But if you have the chance, go! Tilverdale is a really fun and crazy place to visit, a sea of chaos filled with fast-talking, excitable little gnomes. But it’s a place you want to visit very sparingly, just so you can remain sane. I don’t know how the gnomes can live like that without going mad. 

Maybe they already have!

Tilverdale [Tinkers]

Tilverdale is famed for two things: the small scale of its buildings, and the ubiquity of complex, barely functional machines.
It is understandable that one might have to crawl in to a tavern on hands and knees, as the Gnomes have built doors and buildings to Gnome-scale, 
not Human scale. Less obvious however, is why, rather than just pour out beer from a jug, your Gnome bartender might instead spend half an hour coaxing a whirring, 
gurgling, clanking machine into spattering out the very same beer.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Crowcaer [Treggar's Crows]

Excerpt from 'Mercenary Groups of Illyria', by the retired general, Thomas Lannigold 

It all started with Treggar Rockthorn. 

Treggar was a first cousin to the Dwarven chief of Clan Bealagh, Baelon Graythorn, so he enjoyed a certain amount of respect among the Dwarves. However, after an expedition deep into the very heart of the mountains that surround the Dwarven city of Glinntre, Treggar came back a changed dwarf. Something had happened to Treggar and his expedition party down in the long forgotten underground tunnels…they all came back alive, but somehow…different. The story goes that Treggar and his party members started behaving strangely, keeping to their own company and rebuffing any attempt made by the other Dwarfs to learn of what had happened during their foray into the ancient mountain tunnels. 

It was said that Treggar’s demeanor started to take a turn for the worse, and he became incredibly secretive, even with his immediate family members. Concerned for the well-being of his cousin, and mystified with the way the Dwarves had been acting ever since their return, Baelon gathered his best spies and informants to find out the truth. 

Here, the tale gets a little bit vague. No one knows exactly what happened next, but all agree that Treggar and the other Dwarves from the expedition party were exiled from their ancestral homeland, on orders of King Bealon himself. Some say the King found out that Treggar and his company had turned traitors and had secretly formed a pact with the Parvacones Kobolds, promising to supply the Greenskins with weapons in exchange for treasure. Others think that Treggar and the other Dwarves had contracted a rare disease that altered their personalities and minds. 

I personally believe the latter is far more likely than the former, but who knows the true story? Most Dwarves have no idea why Treggar and his company were exiled, and none of the original founders of the mercenary group have ever revealed the reason behind their exile. 

Treggar and his band left their ancestral homeland and started making a name for themselves as a capable mercenary group. They came to be known as Treggar’s Crows, in honour of their leader. The second part of the name came about because these exiled Dwarves were always dressed in black. Their coat-of-arms depict a flying crow against a grey mountain, on a red background. 

Treggar and his Crows are definitely a feared fighting force. They specialize in a very un-Dwarven way of battle – guerilla warfare. All of the Crows are deeply knowledgeable about shoot-and-run tactics and are adept at harassing the enemy from different angles. The Crows’ tactics and strategies often involve pecking at their enemies, bit by bit, softening them with each small skirmish, until the enemy is sufficiently weakened, whereupon Treggar and his Crows will then proceed to launch their final, deadly attack and secure victory. 

Dealing with Treggar and his Crows can be a little unnerving. They are dour and taciturn, and generally communicate only as much as needed to complete their mission. Some of them, unsatisfied with only dressing completely in black, have taken to applying black war-paint to their faces, giving them a more menacing countenance. Treggar's Crows also make use of magic in their campaigns, albeit on a small and subtle scale. This would include amulets and charms to offer protection in battle, lengthening and creating shadows as a form of misdirection, and several illusionary spells used in diversionary tactics. 

Some mages have told me that Treggar and his Crows employ a rudimentary form of a long-forgotten branch of magic, based around ancient runes, once said to have been the sole province of a powerful race of wizards that roamed the lands long before the birth of any of the current races of Illyria. 

Could this be the secret that they uncovered in those ancient tunnels, the very same secret that had a part to play in their exile?

Crowcaer [Treggar's Crows]

When Treggar's mercenary army slaughtered the Orcs who had made their den in the ruins of a fallen Dwarf castle, 
he was hailed a hero of the Dwarven race. When he found the broken throne and set it back upon its plinth; when he garrisoned the dusty barracks with his men; 
when he sank his fortune into building news walls about this ancient Dwarven site... each time he was hailed a hero of the Dwarven race. He has never contradicted his fans. 
But above the newly restored gates, he inscribed only two words; no ancient Dwarven quotation, rather, his new motto reads - for all who enter: “Invest Wisely.”

edited for font change


Edited by demdigs - 16 Apr 2015 at 18:56
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Tor Gorrak [Clan Bealagh]

But Dwarf scholars point to early maps of the region, which show only hills, and no mountain here; combining wisdom in both sorcery and engineering, 
ancient Dwarves raised not only the stronghold, but the mountain upon which it stands.

looks like the earliest mentioned form of terraforming
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Post Options Post Options   Thanks (0) Thanks(0)   Quote DeliciousJosh Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 12 Apr 2015 at 11:35
I think that might just be the earliest hints about the terraforming, like you say - giving players a hint about terraforming mountains for their benefit.

It could have another meaning? 

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Post Options Post Options   Thanks (0) Thanks(0)   Quote demdigs Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 12 Apr 2015 at 15:58
Some mages have told me that Treggar and his Crows employ a rudimentary form of a long-forgotten branch of magic, based around ancient runes,
once said to have been the sole province of a powerful race of wizards that roamed the lands long before the birth of any of the current races of Illyria. 
Could this be the secret that they uncovered in those ancient tunnels, the very same secret that had a part to play in their exile?

However, after an expedition deep into the very heart of the mountains that surround the Dwarven city of Glinntre, Treggar came back a changed dwarf. 
Something had happened to Treggar and his expedition party down in the long forgotten underground tunnels…they all came back alive, but somehow…different. 
The story goes that Treggar and his party members started behaving strangely, keeping to their own company and rebuffing any attempt made by the 
other Dwarfs to learn of what had happened during their foray into the ancient mountain tunnels. 
It was said that Treggar’s demeanor started to take a turn for the worse, and he became incredibly secretive, even with his immediate family members. 

 But Dwarf scholars point to early maps of the region, which show only hills, and no mountain here; combining wisdom in both sorcery and engineering, 
ancient Dwarves raised not only the stronghold, but the mountain upon which it stands.


so in these texts, you find that tor gorrak was created with magic, to create a mountain where there was none. Also you have tegger's crows going into a hidden tunnel near glinnter, a hub in the same faction that gave tegger old forgotten magic from the tunnel. could one of the hidden secrets be the new magic abilities that include terraforming?
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Post Options Post Options   Thanks (0) Thanks(0)   Quote demdigs Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 12 Apr 2015 at 19:39
Your followers find their way, by ancient roads and forgotten paths, through hidden mountain passes, to the ruins of a once great Dwarf Fortress. In the distance, the ragged ruins blend in to the mountainside, their stone the same grey as the cliffs around them, moss and bushes and trees clinging to the broken walls just as to the mountainsides. But as your people move closer, uneven walls, pillars, even gateways and, in places, stone roofs become visible. 

Even in ruins, the structures here are immense. Walls that now stand a hundred paces high are but the remains of greater edifices, rubble strewn about them suggesting that some towers must have been many times as high as that. 

The remains of a royal hall cover an area big enough to contain a whole village. In the ruins of crumbled townhouses are the Clan crests of dozens of proud families, some familiar (Moedagh, Reashag, Bealagh), others long forgotten by all but the Dwarves. Collapsed tunnels and gates sealed with rubble hint at networks of passages beneath the mountains, now inaccessible. 

In ruined shrines, tablets still stand attesting to the glory of this fallen city. 

A plaque in the overgrown marketplace attests to once vibrant commerce: "Give thanks to the east, for Obsidian and fine silks. Give thanks to the west for grain and meat. Give thanks to the north, for Iceheart and oak. Give thanks to the south for spices and fish. All the goods of the world are brought here, by the skill of the Dwarven Clans in obedience to the Artefores." 

Another tablet recounts the names of craftsmen who were presented to the gods each year as the finest jewelers, cabinet makers, glass-blowers, armourers, potters…. But their works have long since vanished. 

Close to the royal palace, the wall of another shrine reads: "For the glory and might of Duraz Karag, we thank the Artifores. We give thanks that they made our crafts people deft and hard working. We give thanks that they made our kings wise. We give thanks that they made our mountain ranges rich with iron and Silversteel. We give thanks that our warriors are strong, our children healthy, our women enduring, our families dutiful. Upon these things does Duraz Karag stand. May it last for ever." 

Leaving the city to return home, your people note a few small scattered cairns, little piles of mossy stones, also brought low by time. These, they suspect, may be crude monuments to slain Orc warleaders, whose hordes over-ran the vast city in the Second Age. 

Your followers regret that they did not return with any treasure or insight. The ruins of Duraz Karag are so vast, they say, that it must contain some secrets, but they had no clue where they might even start such a search.

I tried sending various goods to the duraz karug and it failed. 

the highlighted portions i believe are a formula that needs to be solved, if we send the correct ingredients to that place it might tell us something different. 



Edited by demdigs - 12 Apr 2015 at 19:42
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