The Tale of The Seventh Son to the Fallen Ironstar Kingdom
"So ye want to hear a story about a dwarf, do ye? Well I happen to know of one, ye just may be a liken. A story of the last known King, of a long lost dwarven clan," gather around the fire now friends and I will tell my tale. As the old gray haired sage sits down next to the fireplace, and sets his goblet down next to the wine bottle on the table.
"Let us talk first of the founding and fall of a once great Kingdom, the 'true name' of which has been lost over the ages, mixed up with the names of the Kingdom's various districts (such as Ardeep, Delimbiyran, and Thaltekhth). It is only known to us now as, the Fallen Kingdom.
When founded (at the Council of Axe and Arrow in The Laughing Hollow) the Kingdom would have Three Kings at once: an elven King, Ruardh Lightshiver; a dwarven King, Torghatar blood of Bharaun; and a human King, Javilarhh "the Dark" Snowsword. All three of the original Kings perished in battles with the orc hordes, as did two elven successors. Finally, at the collapse, after repeated attacks of vast orc hordes, the dwarven replacement, Oskilar son of Fauril died, as well. The two Dukes, survived the collapse of the kingdom, Deorth Ironstar son of Jarl was one of the Dukes, that led their peoples in battle in the area for many more years.
The borders of the Fallen Kingdom, when it was first formed, ran from Mount Helimbrar at the sea northeast to what is now Ironford. From there the border ran southeast to the Dark Hills, the stony, broken hills that lie between Waterdeep and Secomber. From there, the Kingdom's borders followed the southernmost tributary of the Delimbiyr, the Ulbanlur (Highmoorflow), south and east along the edge of the High Moor, up to Evendusk Lake (The Mirror of the Moor). The border then ran southwards with the edge of the Moor, taking the Serpent Hills before turning back north around the western edge of the Moor, which it followed along a string of now vanished human castles, north to about where the Way Inn now stands. There it turned westwards to the sea, to the Seatower of Ilinyth.
There is one old legend attached to the Fallen Kingdom that still seems active to day: the tale of the Ghost Dwarves. The ghosts of Ironstar's first king and his bodyguard are said to still roam the lands. They were ambushed and slain by hired duergar in the heart of the kingdom while on their way to answer a (false) call for aid. The dwarves are said to still ride to aid those in need near the River Dessarin, from its mouth as far north as Ironford.
The Ghost Dwarves appear as shining white translucent figures in plate armor, on horseback and armed with great two-handed war axes as long as spears. They strike silently but viciously at orc-kin and other evil creatures only. Many travelers swear that the Ghost Dwarves have come to their aid, when they were attacked by ghouls, brigands, or goblin-kin raiders near the Dessarin River."
Smiling as the old sage looks around the room, taking a quick drink from his goblet. "Now that I have told ye some of the tale of the Fallen Kingdom, I will tell ye the story of one such clan within this great kingdom.
This is the story of the Ironstar clan, founded by Jarl Ironstar. In the years shortly after the founding of the Fallen Kingdom, Jarl Ironstar founder and first King of the Clan Ironstar, located in what was later to be known as Ironstar Mountain. Clan Ironstar grew rapidly in wealth and power, do to their mastering of the art of instilling magic in items better than any previous dwarven smiths. This lead Jarl to become the Fallen Kingdoms only dwarven Duke.
The Ironstar Masters were famous in their day, as they worked under Ironstar Mountain and its sister peaks of Northlook and Wyrmtongue. Together these are the three most southerly peaks of the range of mountains north of the River Surbrin, just above its confluence with the Rauvin. These mountains, and the land south from them to the river, was all the land that the Throne of Ironstar ever commanded. Yet Ironstar is regarded today as the most mighty of Dwarven Kingdoms, after Delzoun. Its smith-craft was matchless, and its people industrious. Yet in the end, the throne failed to hire mercenaries enough to hold their caverns against the ever-attacking orcs, and they were routed.
Ghaern son of Deorth, 3rd King of clan Ironstar, after losing most of his clan, and his two sons in the savage fighting when Ironstar Mountain has taken by the orcs, led the clan south, to eventually join with the Besilmer clan. As the remaining survivors of the clan headed south from their kingdom, down the west bank of the Dessarin River, harried by trolls and orcs. Ghaern continually led the young dwarven youths, his great-grandchildren among them, in rearguard skirmishes to protect his people. His daughter Tammas Ironstar led the dwarven wives and infants on to the south.
On the Stone Bridge Ghaern fell to orcblades, and was ridden over as the orcs routed his shocked companions and swept south after his kin. After they had gone, the mortally-wounded King crawled to the very top of the Bridge, and cried aloud to Moradin to protect the Ironstar people out of his mercy, as there were none now left in the Realms to do so. And with that plea the old King fell from the Bridge, dead, into the waters below.
There was a flash of red light, and a clang as of metal being struck, that smote the ears and reverberated like the tolling of a great bell for some minutes. Looking back, orcs and fleeing dwarves alike saw a great dwarflike figure, fully 20 feet high, standing upon the height of the arch outlined in red flames.
The dwarf upon the bridge had eyes like leaping red flames and a sweeping beard, and bore a red-glowing hammer in one bare hand. He swung the hammer in a circle above his head, faster and faster and then hurled himself down from the Bridge like a meteor, to land hissing in the water below. There his light faded, and he rose from the waters bearing the limp body of Ghaern like a rag doll in one hand. Cradling it carefully against him, the armored dwarf wept, silent tears streaming down his face, and as he wept, he ran towards the orcs. Muttering in fear, they turned to meet him as one, and he charged into their midst without a word.
At that, Tammas Ironstar rallied her people to fight, and led a charge back at the band of orcs, to aid the newcomer. But even as she reached them, she saw that the lone dwarf among them was smiting right and left tirelessly, ignoring the blades of the orcs, and they were falling like rain around him. Soon the last of them fell at the feet of Tammas, from a blow of that awful hammer.
As Tammas looked at the dwarf, the sign of a hammer and anvil appeared in outlines of fire upon the breastplate of his armor, and she knelt in the midst of her thanks, recognizing that this was indeed Moradin. But the Soul Forger merely held over her his hammer, sternly pointing south. She scrambled up, and led her people on. And all day, as orcs rode after them, Moradin strode at their back. The dwarf who towered 20 feet tall smote down all who threatened the last of the Ironstars, slaying orcs as a farmer threshes wheat, until no more came, and the dwarves came to Ironford at sunset, and could go no further.
Then a flash and clangor came once more, and the survivors of the Ironstar clan were alone again. On the turf where the god had stood they found the hammer and crown of Ghaern, but his body was gone. It was this crown that the first of the dwarven Kings of the Fallen Kingdom wore, and it was away from the Fallen Kingdom that the last of the Ironstars went."
As the old sage stretches, he refills his goblet, with what is left from the bottle of fine dwarven ale. Taking a long drink from the goblet, "so do ye still want to hear more? I haven't told ye of the Legend of the Seventh Son of Clan Ironstar yet." Settling back in his chair, the old sage sets his goblet back on the table.
"The legend goes that the Seventh Son, will be born of the same name as the first King, baring the symbol of the once proud clan on his left breast as the form of a birthmark, placed there by Moradin himself. This son will become the best dwarven smith ever known within the realms, even surpassing his clans' previous master smiths. The seventh son will be responsible for the rebirth of clan Ironstar; the clan will grow so large, so quickly that it will triple the size and power, of the original clan in only a few decades. The legend states that after a century of ruling the Ironstar clan, the Fierce Axe will reappear. With the Fierce Axe in the Seventh Son's hand, the reuniting of the Dwarves of the One Clan will begin. In the many centuries to come the One clan will grow and prosper in mining, smithing, and population as never before. The Kings of the Ironstar clan will rule the One clan peacefully for hundreds of centuries.
The Seventh Ironstar Son walks the Realms now, as I tell ye this tale. His is only around forty-five winters old now, he resides in the Southern part of the Realms. So the young lad walks the realms not even knowing of this legend, or the part he will play in the rebuilding of the greatest clan ever to walk on Toril."
"This brings me to the end of me tale, for the rest of the story has yet to happen." The sage takes the bottle of ale and finishes off the rest of the dark liquid within the bottle. As he looks around the tavern, "so what ye think of me tale, did ye like it, or did you find it hard to believe?" The sage get up from his chair by the fireplace, his form starts to change from that of a human to that of a dwarf. As the old dwarf walks out of the tavern, he stops and looks back at the people with in tavern; "the tale I tell be true or me name's not Moradin, father of the dwarves." With that being said, the dwarf disappears with a flash of red light, and a clang as of metal being struck.
Moradin, Dwarffather, 1350 DR,
The Bronze Dragon Tavern,
********************************************************************************************* Born on 13 Tarsakh, in the Year of the Storms, to mother Ilisar, daughter of Tighfelin, a Garnet, Keeper of the Shield to Dumathoin and to father Erden 'troll killer', a Lt. in the Malthin Battlerager pantaloon in times of war as well as one of the clans best weaponsmiths. Jarl has spent his first 45 winters in the great dwarven city of Underhome, located on the southeast edge of The Great Rift, in The Eastern Shaar region.
His first five winters consisted of mostly playing with the other children of the clan, after which the next 15 winters combined playing and learning about things such as dwarven history, reading/writing dwarven runes, and learning the dwarven language. Over those 15 winters the play time vs. leaning time lessened with each passing winter. At the young age of 20 winters, Jarl became an apprentice smith, to his father. The first five winters consisted of learning the properties of various metals, the tools of the trade, and watching his father work the forge.
Finally at the age of 25 winters Jarl's father decided it was time for Jarl to work the metals and the forges. With the first ring of hammer on metal Jarl knew that working the forges was his true calling in life, even though he wasn't very good at it. After the first two months of Jarl working the forge, Erden was about ready to call it quits on Jarl's apprenticeship. In that short time Jarl had broken three hammers, a pair of clasps, and even cracked the anvil. The worst of it all was the fact that not one piece of metal that Jarl worked ended up being usable. But before Erden called it quits, he noticed something, to his son was spending more time in the foundry then even the old priests of Moradin. Erden seeing that Jarl was spending so much time in the foundry, he decided to allow Jarl to continue his apprenticeship.
Over the next five winters Jarl's devotion to smithing turned into something of an obsession, yet everything he worked ended in worthless clumps of metal. After five winters of watching and helping his son working the forges, Erden could not understand why Jarl could not craft a single item. Erden knew that Jarl was doing everything correctly, yet the end result was always the same, this fact above anything kept Erden searching for answers. With five long winters of trying everything he could, Erden gave up, not on Jarl, but on his own ability to help his son learned how to work the forge and metals. Knowing that Jarl's problem was beyond his ability to solve, Erden set forth a plan, to seek help from the one that could truly solve Jarl's problem. Erden spent the next six months in the foundry working tirelessly on a mammoth chunk of pure mithril. At the end of the six-month period, Erden had crafted a huge, yet exquisite two-headed hammer. With his work almost finished, Erden asked his wife, Ilisar, if she would inscribe his hammer with the most powerful priestly runes that she could. Erden handed her a small bag full of miscellaneous precious gemstones, that he had collected during his younger days of adventuring, he asked once more for her help. Ilisar could not understand why her husband would have spent so much time creating a hammer so large that only a giant could use it, let alone, wanting her to spend even more time enchanting the thing. But seeing the dire look on the old dwarf's face and in his eyes, she agreed to enchant a hammer. Both Erden and Ilisar spent the next four months working the runes into the hammer, crushing the needed gemstones, and finally placing three coats of everbright on the hammer. Ten months of hard work had finally paid off, Erden's hammer was complete. The massive one-piece mithril-hammer was left hovering in midair; a soft electrum colored aura encompassing it. The powerful, crushed diamond filled, runes etched into both sides of the hammer pulsed like a heartbeat. Topped off with a platinum wrapped handle as well as the three coats of everbright made this hammer by far the clan's greatest work. The very next day Erden guided the hammer into the Temple of Moradin, placed it atop the Holy Iron Anvil to Moradin, Erden then dropped to his knees before the holy altar and prayed to the one he knew could help his son. He explained to the Soul Forger his sons problems smithing and his devotion to the craft, he then asked if the Dwarffather would remove what ever curse that might have been set upon him and to guide him in his crafting. After eight hours of praying, Erdin thanked the father, raised to his feet and left the temple. Soon after Erdin left the temple, the large hammer was raised high above the anvil, then to all the priests' astonishment, the hammer struck the anvil with such force that the entire temple shook, the hammer vanished into thin air upon contact with the anvil. The very next day two priests of Moradin came to talk with Erden about taking Jarl under their wing, guiding him in the arts of forging, Erden taking this to mean that his prayers were being answered, agreed to allow Jarl to study under the priests' watchful eye. After just three weeks of working as an apprentice to the priests, Jarl crafted his first item, a footman's star mace, made of solid iron. The very same day Jarl informed his mother and father that he had decided to follow the paths of both his parents, he had decided to become a priest and a smith rolled up into one, he was going to become a priest to the Soul Forger, Moradin.
The next fifteen winters Jarl spent within the temple, as an Apprentice to the Anvil, learning the religious teachings as well as improving his forging technique. He picked up the prayers and rituals as well as the other text teaching very quickly having learned most of this from his mother during his younger years, this left Jarl more time for his true passion, working the forges. During his fifteen winters as an Apprentice to the Anvil, Jarl's craftsmanship improved tenfold, even at his young age he was beginning to surpass a majority of the younger priest.
In the spring of 1355, during the Storm of Stone, Jarl was inducted into the priesthood as a Tempered, Adept of the Anvil. Jarl spent the next five years in Underhome, as a full priest to Moradin, committing himself solely to forging and working the metals in the father's name. When rumors filled the priesthood of the sudden sickness of King, Under-the-Mountain, Ghellin Ironclan, and the imminent march to reclaim The Mines of Tethyamar before his death. The temple elders decided, upon guidance from Moradin, to send a small contingent of their faithful to the Dalelands, the idea was to have a small group standing ready to aid King Ghellin and his elite guard, upon his return. Harrowdale would be the staging point for the twenty-man dwarven contingent, the selection of this area was due to Grumblen Blackbeard of the Malthin Clan and his family residing in that area. The hand picked group consisted of five priests, one of which was Jarl, and fifteen Warriors of the Hammer, the voyage, from The Great Rift to Harrowdale, took them a better part of the year, but the entire group completed the trek with only minor injuries. Jarl and the rest of the dwarven contingent has spent the last five years in Harrowdale, preparing and waiting for King Ghellin's return to the Dales, as well as helping Grumblen with his families smithy.
