Dwarves. I must admit, dearest journal, I am at this moment torn between penning my genuine impression of the Dwarves' situation upon arriving on this planet and simply making as many short jokes as the page will allow. As this work is meant to be a compendium, now, as well as my journal, I suppose I will have to, at the least, keep the jokes subtle.
In Khazas' Reach, within the Coldark Steel-forged Oldassan Citadel that they call their home, the Dwarves make short work of any challenges arcane or physical. With their Celestial King at their head and the shadow of Rhazik ever barking at their heels, their ability to band together and see the wise path must never be dwarfed by their desire to turn against their King's wisdom, no matter how diminutive or great that desire may be.
We Elves have a similar issue in the safekeeping of our people. I hear some of us choose to take the mask of an ancient fetish up in worship, receiving the ability to channel wicked forces in exchange for our free will. That is not conclusive, though – I have yet to meet an Elf who does not possess their free will or, if I have, the puppet master is quite skilled.
On the Dwarves, though, I must say that their Edict of Balance within their pantheon serves very well to keep any arguments brief, and that the Dwarves were able to learn directly from their clearly benevolent creator how they might live reminds me of the Skar, though clearly the Dwarven people know better than to slaughter civilizations en masse and eat each other for a quick lunch. I am grateful that the Dwarves share with us the same concept of finger food.
Yes, but for Rhazik the Dwarves would have peace. However, there always must be that jealous element in society, one which vies for supremacy rather than cooperation, for individual's rights to mistreat others rather than community, and for personal gain rather than ensuring all have a seat at the table. Lock, Ehn, and Hammur, by the scriptures, seem to be neutral Celestials, where Rhazik takes the role of the jealous outsider and Khazas the one of the benevolent dictator, with the aforementioned Edict keeping the balance among the pantheon that the Dwarves might always have sound council.
Not that they are ones to need council. I have met my share of Dwarves and they all seem to be of the pleasant sort, kind of caught up in their own matters, but not everyone can be an Elf. One cannot fault Dwarves for being born a planet too far and three feet too short. Mind you, if Dwarves measure by their feet they well may be the right number of feet high!
I have also heard tell of the Dwarves' legendary grip. “The Grip of the Dwarven Father,” they call it. Being forged of the same materials as Coldark Steel, I would imagine that the Dwarves would be remarkably resilient, and that includes resiliency in maintaining their handle on a thing, ability to comfortably endure temperatures colder than an Elf would settle for, as well as general toughness. Should I ever need to hire a sell-sword, I would prefer a Dwarf, I think. Never try to steal a Dwarf's sword or a Dwarf's drink. They are inseparable.
Overall, the Dwarves are a lot who are of the fervent belief that their peace is a product of their strength, and that for the most part sends the message that the Dwarves are out to keep that peace in their corner of the world, but the nonsense with Rhazik barking at the heels of Dwarven progress is bound to turn that on its head from time to time. I wouldn't trust someone who monopolizes the political power to themselves, but then I would not trust a shadowy figure with naught but ill to say about our leaders, either.
One more reason to get out and explore the world, I suppose. Opinions on these things, I am finding, are best formed by one's own experience, not another's. Which isn't to say that books have no purpose – books are a primer to the journey of life, a slice of well needed perspective – but if I relied on books alone my work would be nothing but derivative. And while, for now, derivative it must stay, soon enough I will be able to venture beyond these verdant walls, and my story can begin. Until that time, I remain,
Dwarves. I must admit, dearest journal, I am at this moment torn between penning my genuine impression of the Dwarves' situation upon arriving on this planet and simply making as many short jokes as the page will allow. As this work is meant to be a compendium, now, as well as my journal, I suppose I will have to, at the least, keep the jokes subtle.
In Khazas' Reach, within the Coldark Steel-forged Oldassan Citadel that they call their home, the Dwarves make short work of any challenges arcane or physical. With their Celestial King at their head and the shadow of Rhazik ever barking at their heels, their ability to band together and see the wise path must never be dwarfed by their desire to turn against their King's wisdom, no matter how diminutive or great that desire may be.
We Elves have a similar issue in the safekeeping of our people. I hear some of us choose to take the mask of an ancient fetish up in worship, receiving the ability to channel wicked forces in exchange for our free will. That is not conclusive, though – I have yet to meet an Elf who does not possess their free will or, if I have, the puppet master is quite skilled.
On the Dwarves, though, I must say that their Edict of Balance within their pantheon serves very well to keep any arguments brief, and that the Dwarves were able to learn directly from their clearly benevolent creator how they might live reminds me of the Skar, though clearly the Dwarven people know better than to slaughter civilizations en masse and eat each other for a quick lunch. I am grateful that the Dwarves share with us the same concept of finger food.
Yes, but for Rhazik the Dwarves would have peace. However, there always must be that jealous element in society, one which vies for supremacy rather than cooperation, for individual's rights to mistreat others rather than community, and for personal gain rather than ensuring all have a seat at the table. Lock, Ehn, and Hammur, by the scriptures, seem to be neutral Celestials, where Rhazik takes the role of the jealous outsider and Khazas the one of the benevolent dictator, with the aforementioned Edict keeping the balance among the pantheon that the Dwarves might always have sound council.
Not that they are ones to need council. I have met my share of Dwarves and they all seem to be of the pleasant sort, kind of caught up in their own matters, but not everyone can be an Elf. One cannot fault Dwarves for being born a planet too far and three feet too short. Mind you, if Dwarves measure by their feet they well may be the right number of feet high!
I have also heard tell of the Dwarves' legendary grip. “The Grip of the Dwarven Father,” they call it. Being forged of the same materials as Coldark Steel, I would imagine that the Dwarves would be remarkably resilient, and that includes resiliency in maintaining their handle on a thing, ability to comfortably endure temperatures colder than an Elf would settle for, as well as general toughness. Should I ever need to hire a sell-sword, I would prefer a Dwarf, I think. Never try to steal a Dwarf's sword or a Dwarf's drink. They are inseparable.
Overall, the Dwarves are a lot who are of the fervent belief that their peace is a product of their strength, and that for the most part sends the message that the Dwarves are out to keep that peace in their corner of the world, but the nonsense with Rhazik barking at the heels of Dwarven progress is bound to turn that on its head from time to time. I wouldn't trust someone who monopolizes the political power to themselves, but then I would not trust a shadowy figure with naught but ill to say about our leaders, either.
One more reason to get out and explore the world, I suppose. Opinions on these things, I am finding, are best formed by one's own experience, not another's. Which isn't to say that books have no purpose – books are a primer to the journey of life, a slice of well needed perspective – but if I relied on books alone my work would be nothing but derivative. And while, for now, derivative it must stay, soon enough I will be able to venture beyond these verdant walls, and my story can begin. Until that time, I remain,
Yours Sincerely,
