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stone-stars · 2 months

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a while ago i made a post about naddpod music and @metamagic-adept brought up kingshammer in the replies. and yeah, i can't resist. so. kingshammer essay, let's do this.

first of all: huge, huge thanks to @operationslipperypuppet for helping me with this; she found a bunch of uses (esp for c3) and contributed truly so much to the analysis as well.

now, the use of kingshammer differs by campaign. so! really quickly. here is every use of kingshammer in naddpod.*

*as of c3e53. obligatory spoiler warning for every naddpod episode up to that point.

(continued under the cut as i was not kidding about this being an essay-- i will leave a tl;dr of sorts towards the end)

c1e45: The Kings protect the Boobs from the avalanche (except Hardwon)

c1e54: Hardwon's death*

c1e54: Hardwon's visions while he's dead*

c1e54: Hardwon is revivified*

c1e55: Hardwon's dreamless sleep after dying*

c1e65: JV and Rosa in the fog, when he gives her his lantern*

c1e65: JV, the Duskmother, and Moradin*

c1e69: Hardwon seeing the day his father died while in Galad's sword

c1e75: Hardwon speaking up in the astral council: "You don't broker a deal with someone who calls themself a God"

c1e80: Hardwon's flashback in Hell: "Looks like a Dwarf to me"

c1e81: Hardwon fuses the Bronzebeard and Coldain hammers

c1e86: Hardwon throws King Coldain the Kingshammer in the Tarrasque fight

c1e86: Coldain returns the Kingshammer to Hardwon in the Tarrasque fight

c1e87: Hardwon and King Coldain talk about succession of the throne

c1e90: Hardwon dreams of Grimthor MacGannis in the fall of Irondeep

c1e91: Hardwon notices that the debris from Irondeep collapsing is gone

c1e93: Hardwon and King MacGannis talk about the Godshammer / MacGannis offers Hardwon the MacGannis Kingshammer

c1e98: Pestilence sends Bev and Bubbles to a Maze

c1e98: Bev in the maze, following Bubbles (instead of Erlin)

c1e99: Bev Sr. possesses Balnor so he can bless Bev's sword

c2e2: Fia and Zirk talk about their mentors and their books

c2e14: Jabari sees the past and is controlled to need to protect the King

c2e14: Jabari (still mind controlled) attacks Corbeau

c2e20: Bathilda retells the betrayal of the Blades / Cain and Moxora's attack on the Blades meeting

c2e21: Losgrar explains the Crux, and the cave in that killed hundreds

c2e22: The Third Mates plead with the Scrappers and Grez / The Scrappers and Grez stand off in the basement

c2e28: The Third Mates get through to Walder Lachnamoore (using Kenley's map and Remove Curse)

c2e40: The start of the ritual with the crown and Irina (that is ultimately corrupted by Moxora)

c2e41: Henry removing the crown

c3e21: Callie approaches and soothes the Silver Serpent

c3e27: Big Bev and Callie go down in the High King fight, the King tries to escape, Calder fails to finish him

c3e34: Murph talks about Moradin, the Kingshammer itself, and the blessings people seek at his statue

c3e38: Callie tries to soothe the Bronze Serpent (first attempt)

c3e38: Callie tries to soothe the Bronze Serpent (second attempt)

c3e39: Callie tries to soothe the Bronze Serpent (final attempt, after bean rat, which succeeds)

c3e45: Callie enters the helm ("I'm coming Calder")

c3e45: Hardwon summons the spirit guardians

(note: uses in c1 marked as a * are credited instead as "A Sight For Sore Eyes", and i'd also like to mention that i didn't exclude side campaigns or oneshots from this list. kingshammer just... isn't used outside of the main campaigns.)

now, looking at this list, there's something that's immediately obvious: you can't talk about kingshammer without talking about hardwon surefoot.

... and i say that, but i'm going to immediately do the opposite of that and talk about non-hardwon uses in c1 and c3, as well as all uses in c2. also, keep in mind that not every use 100% fits these categories, sometimes kingshammer is just the right song for the moment, and that's fine. let's get into it!

first: moradin. the man who created the hammer, so of course it would be used for him. i would place both of JV's scenes here (the first scene, though not featuring moradin directly, is tied to JV's afterlife), as well as the c3e34 moradin statue scene. (i also wouldn't be surprised if the JV scenes get kingshammer partially because of its link to jake like. on a meta level. but i digress)

second: once the godshammer is created in episode 93 (put a pin in that), kingshammer is no longer used for hardwon or the weapon itself. in the first campaign, the song shows up a few more times, all for beverly: when he's in the maze during the pestilence fight, and when bev sr. possesses balnor to speak to bev. these fall in line, to me, with the early uses of kingshammer for hardwon (post his death in ep54). being beyond the planes of the living, being trapped. hardwon sees lydia there and has to leave her behind for his friends; beverly sees erlin and does the same.

third: in eldermourne, kingshammer is largely used for rituals and betrayals, and is especially tied to the cycle of mistrust and betrayal that surrounds the children of the trickster; the final use being when henry goes to remove the crown from irina in the finale. it's seeded with the introduction of the guardians of the grove books in ep 2, and continues throughout. i'm not going to touch on every use here, some fit more obviously, but i want to call out a few things: 1. re; the use in e28, walder lachnamoore was specifically involved in the downfall of the summer and autumn children of the trickster after they had been manipulated by moxora/heredecia and 2. every other use comes in a pair (the use in 2 sets up bathilda's story in 28 / the two uses in 14 are both jabari getting controlled / 21 and 22 are the ghost dragon / 40 and 41 are both the crown)

fourth, i'm just going to quote emily on the c3e27 short rest: "kingshammer in [campaign 3] i'm trying to put under dragons and serpents, 'cause they're the weapons of this campaign." this covers the uses in eps 21, 27, 38, and 39. the use in 34 is for moradin, and the only other c3 use left is the one in episode 45. put a pin in that.

and with that we've covered all the other kingshammer uses. so, finally, let's talk about hardwon and kingshammer.

hardwon is definitely the strongest association the song has. especially in campaign 1, where it's almost exclusively used for hardwon and the kingshammer (the weapon, not the song) until the godshammer is created in episode 93.

i want to break these uses up real quick; first, let's look at the first handful of uses in campaign 1: 45, 54 (all of them), 55, 69. here, the song comes in as things get dire. the mountain collapses, and it looks like even as the kings save his friends hardwon is going to die. then, he dies and sees that lydia is trapped. he watches his father's last stand. kingshammer isn't a heroic theme for hardwon here, it's a theme he struggles against. it's not prompted by his actions, it's prompted by something happening to him. it's the weapon he wields, but in 69 it's even actively rejected him due to his vampiric nature.

and then, well, a few things happen. he's reborn, for one (literally). and then in episode 75, for the first time, hardwon prompts the song. he speaks up in the astral council, and says "you don't broker a deal with someone who calls herself a god." and his friends and allies stand with him.

after this, the uses in episodes 80-93 (keep that pin in episode 93) are pretty obviously tied to the weapon itself. the kingshammer. as it gets stronger, so does hardwon. the "looks like a dwarf to me" flashback is the first time he wields it. every other use concerns the hammers and the dwarven kings. the kingshammer isn't what makes hardwon a hero, not by a long shot. but the thing that's interesting to me is the turn here. it's no longer a song that happens to hardwon, not really. it's often a song prompted by hardwon's action, and it's more hopeful now. it represents the weapon and its legacy, which is a thing hardwon is coming to embrace.

now, about that pin. in episode 93, hardwon and macgannis talk about the godshammer. when macgannis offers hardwon his own hammer, hardwon says: "i don't necessarily have to be the guy, you know, if you wanna swing it--" and the song cuts off. they wrestle for the hammer, hardwon wins, and the godshammer is restored.

after this point, kingshammer is not used for hardwon again until campaign 3 episode 45, when he summons the spirit guardians at the 11th hour of the lord ultrus fight.

i just want to emphasize that; hardwon tells macgannis that he doesn't have to be the one who wields the kingshammer, and the song doesn't get used for him again until he accepts it back in campaign 3. when he says "hey boys, i think we have a friend to avenge," stands against ultrus, and his friends and allies stand with him. when he accepts himself as the wielder of the kingshammer again, and what that means to him (being a hero).

do you see-- i am talking directly to you, the single person who read this far-- do you see why the song use in this podcast is insane?? like! did murph know, back in the first campaign, that hardwon would return, be retired, and have given up the kingshammer? definitely not. does the use of kingshammer for hardwon mirror his arc in an insane way? yes.

so that's an overview of hardwon and kingshammer. however, we're not done. let's look at it all together: moradin, the kingshammer (the weapon), the uses for bev and jv in c1, betrayals and rituals in eldermourne, the serpents and dragons of c3, and hardwon's relationship to the hammer and the song.

kingshammer is a song for weapons. emily says it, when talking about campaign 3. and that is 100% a common theme here. but, going a bit further, it's also a song about the interaction of mortals and divine/otherworldly power.

often, it's mortals wielding that power. the kingshammer (the weapon) is a divine gift, given by moradin to the dwarven kings. a huge chunk of the uses, especially in c1, are directly tied to the weapon and hardwon's wielding of it. the spirit guardians is a huge example of this as well, as hardwon and his allies are touched by the kingshammer's magic and able to stand against ultrus. and also; bev sr uses the power of the shadowfell to bless bev's sword. and the serpents are oberon's weapon against the destruction of nature; glen uses the silver serpent for his own gains, gromdal does the same to the bronze. callie, meanwhile, doesn't use the serpents, not like glen or gromdal-- instead, kingshammer comes in when she attempts to soothe them. because ultimately, that's the way she wields their power. through connection.

sometimes, they're being pulled at by its influence instead. positively, or negatively. JV, when he's beyond death, meeting the gods. hardwon after his death, torn between lydia (who was put in this position by a god) and his friends. beverly, trapped by an avatar of thiala's magic, being guided by the ghost of erdan. the souls of irondeep being pulled from the prime material by lydia, the lord of shadowfell. callie, entering the helm where ultrus was trapped to save calder.

in eldermourne, this is less tangible. however; the betrayals and the children of the trickster. this cycle of betrayal is the biggest divine influence that remains in eldermourne. the blades are tied up in it, due to their ties to cerenysus and the betrayal by the blades who sided with moxora. walder is tied up in it, as i mentioned before, and he remains in his undead form because of the influence of moxora. jabari is influenced by the prophet-ed king into betraying his friends. the ghost dragon, an otherworldly being, is created by pain caused by mortal actions. and then the crown ritual, at the very end. when moxora, disguised, betrays them and shows irina the third mates "betraying" their ideals, out of context. and the last use, with henry, is as he steps up to end the cycle, one that he had been a part of before.

it's all mortals and the otherworldly, and the places they meet. it's hardwon and his mortal allies, standing together on the premise that you don't broker a deal with someone who says they're a god. and, at the same time, it's hardwon and his allies finding strength in the kingshammer's magic to stand against the avatar of one. it's the ways the two influence each other. an intervention by one onto the other. sometimes they draw strength from each other, other times they're opposed. it's a song that is dire, and also hopeful. oftentimes, which of those is the case is determined while the song is playing.

tl;dr: kingshammer has a lot of uses, but it's very consistently used to represent (divine) weapons, and the interactions between mortals and the divine/otherworldly. when applied to hardwon specifically, it has a lot to do with his journey as a hero and accepting that that's what he is.

(also, since i'm writing this before either happens: don't be surprised if it's used for the ice knife (the weapon) and/or the final serpent whenever we meet it. both of these have a high chance of getting kingshammer applied to them considering everything that's been set up about the ice knife and also, y'know, serpents.)

in conclusion: you can pay careful attention to the music in naddpod, but watch out. you might accidentally write 2.5 thousand words about a song. thank you for reading.

and go listen to kingshammer-- aside from all the meaning it also just kicks ass.

notes, disclaimers, etc:

for the purposes of this, if the song loops, it's part of the same use. if it is used later in the same episode, it's noted separately.

this is mentioned above, but not every use fits 100%. murph and emily very deliberately use music throughout the story to inform it, and also sometimes kingshammer is just the right song for a moment. both are true.

as a follow up to that, i'm not claiming that all of this was the specific intention. i'm just saying that when you look at kingshammer's uses as a song, there are some pretty strong themes, and it's fun to examine those.

i am not perfect. this is for fun. if i missed one, i'm sorry, feel free to point it out, and also i'll edit this post if that's the case

i would once again like to call out alli operationslipperypuppet for her help. she pointed out the divine connection first, and in general helped immensely. and, if naddpod music interests you, she's another person who often goes insane about it.

i am not above doing this for other songs, if you're interested let me know (few songs are as prolific as kingshammer, however)

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inaconstantstateofchange · 3 months

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Hi!

I'm so glad i found your blog, your deep dives are making my brain tingle in the best of ways! It's so difficult to really find all the info your curious about with the many different editions and histories of everything so you are an absolute lifesaver for understanding all these intruiging lore aspects.

I've been very curious about Asmodeus for a while now but am kinda struggling finding out more about him, I know he's very strong and apparently a large snake?? But I was wondering if you at some point feel the motivation to if you could tell me some about him, he seems so interesting to me and I just wanna know more about who and what he is.

Again, you are so awesome and I vow to devour all your writing!

Asmodeus: An Origin

Thank you so much for the kind words - and for your patience as I worked on this one. If there's any question you had about him that feels like it's not wholly answered here, feel free to let me know! There's still a lot that I was not able to include.

As ever, these writeups will align with current 5e lore, and draw from 3.5e for additional supporting information. On rarer occasions – and always noted – I will reference 1e and 2e, but with the caveats that there is much more in those editions that is tonally dissonant with the modern conception of the Forgotten Realms, and thus generally less applicable.

You would be hard-pressed to find a more succinct introduction to Asmodeus himself than in the following passage, from 3e’s Book of Vile Darkness:

Asmodeus the Archfiend, the overlord of all the dukes of hell, commands all devilkind and reigns as the undisputed master of the Nine Hells. Even the deities that call that plane home pay Asmodeus a great deal of respect.¹

As to his current position, 5e’s Sword Coast Adventurer’s Guide features Asmodeus among the list of gods, naming him the “god of indulgence”, and crediting to him the domains of knowledge and trickery. His symbol is “three inverted triangles arranged in a long triangle”, as seen in the image below.²

While his active circle of worshippers remains small, he is one of the gods habitually turned to by those in need, particularly those who have done something to earn them the displeasure of another god:

After transgressing against a god in some way, a person prays to Asmodeus for something to provide respite during the long wait. Asmodeus is known to grant people what they wish, and thus people pray for all the delights and distractions they desire most from life. Those who transgress in great ways often ask Asmodeus to hide their sins from the gods, and priests say that he will do so, but with a price after death.³

Asmodeus is particularly appealing to those who fear what awaits them after death, or have arrived to find the reality does not match their hopes. For these souls, even the hazards of Baator might be preferable to long centuries of solitary wandering on the Fugue Plane.

All souls wait on the Fugue Plane for a deity's pleasure, which determines where a soul will spend the rest of eternity. Those who lived their lives most in keeping with a deity's outlook are taken first. Others, who have transgressed in the eyes of their favored god or have not followed any particular ethos, might wait centuries before Kelemvor judges where they go. People who fear such a fate can pray to Asmodeus, his priests say, and in return a devil will grant a waiting soul some comfort.³

The worship of Asmodeus attracts staunch individualists, who desire a future unaligned with the domain of any of the other gods, and are willing to choose self-determination in any form that might approach them.

The faithful of Asmodeus acknowledge that devils offer their worshipers a path that's not for everyone — just as eternally basking in the light of Lathander or endlessly swinging a hammer in the mines of Moradin might not be for everyone. Those who serve Asmodeus in life hope to be summoned out of the moaning masses of the Fugue Plane after death. They yearn for the chance to master their own fates, with all of eternity to achieve their goals.³

Asmodeus achieved his current official status of godhood during the Spellplague, which lasted from 1385 to 1395 DR. After this, for reasons he has unsurprisingly chosen not to reveal, he performed a ritual to alter the metaphysical categorization of all existing tieflings, giving them features that highlighted this connection.

Due to this shift, tieflings are often perceived with wariness by those who believe that Asmodeus is able to exert control over these newly-determined “descendants” of his. While this is an unwarranted suspicion, as tieflings are no more bound to his will than any other individual of another race, the mistrust remains unfortunately pervasive.⁴

The true origins of Asmodeus, particularly from 3rd Edition on, are kept rather ambiguous, seemingly quite by design. This is both for Watsonian reasons – that a supreme being of evil such as Asmodeus would not carelessly leave information about his origins (and, potentially, weaknesses) floating around – as well as Doylist: it is a more elegant solution than eternal retcons, and leaves it up to the individual scholar or DM which explanation they ascribe the most veracity to.⁵

On the charge of Asmodeus’s true form being a giant serpent, we have Chris Pramas to thank for that bit of lore, stated in 2e’s 1999 Guide to Hell, but rarely mentioned - and not in any definitive manner - from 3e onward.⁶ 3e’s Manual of the Planes, published in 2001, does reference this account, but as a whispered and shadowy theory about the Archdevil Supreme, rather than objective truth.

Brutally repressed rumors suggest that there is more to Asmodeus than he admits. The story goes that the true form of Asmodeus actually resides in the deepest rift of Nessus called the Serpent’s Coil. The shape seen by all the other devils of the Nine Hells in the fortress of Malsheem is actually a highly advanced use of the project image spell or an avatar of some sort. ... From where fell Asmodeus? Was he once a greater deity cast down from Elysium or Celestia, or is he older yet, as the rumor hints? Perhaps he represents some fundamental entity whose mere existence pulls the multiverse into its current configuration. Nobody who tells the story of Asmodeus’s “true” form lives more than 24 hours after repeating it aloud. But dusty scrolls in hard-to-reach libraries (such as Demogorgon’s citadel in the Abyss) yet record this knowledge. Unless it is pure fancy, of course.⁷

One can see from the framing of the above excerpt that there is no attempt made at certainty. Perhaps it is mere conjecture, or perhaps a secret, hidden truth that few may know. It is impossible to say for certain.

Another story of Asmodeus’s possible origin is found in 3e’s Fiendish Codex II. This text, again, does not frame the information given as universal truth, but rather takes pains to emphasize its ambiguity.

The best way to understand devils and their ways is to listen to the stories they tell about themselves. The most famous of these tales have propagated as myths throughout all the worlds of the Material Plane, becoming familiar to mortals of all sorts. But as is often the case with legends, contradictions abound. For example, the tale of the Pact Primeval is the accepted version of the multiverse’s creation. But an alternate story claims Asmodeus as the fallen creator of the universe. Countless cultures have their own versions of the Pact Primeval legend. The names of the deities featured in it change depending on where it is told, but the names of the devils are always the same. Perhaps this fact is what inspired Philogestes, the accursed philosopher of evil, to pen his famous proverb: “The gods exist in multiplicity, but Asmodeus is unique.” As is the case with any myth worthy of the name, the following tale is true — whether or not it actually happened.⁸

In this account, Asmodeus began as a celestial embodiment of law, formed from the concept itself to fight against the embodiment of chaos — demons.⁹ Over time, as he and his followers became more akin to the enemies they were facing, those celestial beings not engaged in the fight grew leery of what they were becoming, and took him to trial, to account for himself. The god of valor spoke first, laying out the concerns of those gathered against Asmodeus. In response:

Asmodeus smiled, and the smoke of a thousand battlefields rose from his lips. “As Lord of Battle,” he pointed out, “you should know better than any that war is a dirty business. We have blackened ourselves so that you can remain golden. We have upheld the laws, not broken them. Therefore, you may not cast us out.”⁸

Despite their efforts, the gods were able to find no laws that Asmodeus had broken. Unsurprisingly, as he himself had helped write them. This conflict between Asmodeus and his host and the remainder of the unsullied gods continued on, with the gods unable to get rid of him, and free themselves of the constant reminder of the Blood War.

With time, the concepts of “good” and “evil” entered the world alongside law and chaos, and Asmodeus was able to argue for dominion over those souls that chose evil. The gods loathed the reminders of this fact, however, and when Asmodeus volunteered to move to the empty plain of Baator, they enthusiastically agreed. It was only years later, when the number of souls arriving at their own planes after death began to sharply decrease, that they thought to travel to Baator themselves, where they found a robust operation based around encouraging mortal souls to take to the path of evil.

“You have granted us the power to harvest souls,” replied Asmodeus. “To build our Hell and gird our might for the task set before us, we naturally had to find ways to improve our yield.” The war deity drew forth his longsword of crackling lightning. “It is your job to punish transgressions, not to encourage them!” he cried. Asmodeus smiled, and a venomous moth flew out from between his sharpened teeth. “Read the fine print,” he replied.⁸

While the recorded story implies a simple act of one-upmanship, a later section of the Fiendish Codex tells us that Asmodeus’s split from the other celestial deities was not so amicable.

Once he had committed himself to residing in Baator, the deities physically cast him out of the upper realms, and he fell — and fell, and fell. Upon reaching the plain of Baator, he plunged through the nascent layers he had begun to shape. (In some versions, his fall created the layers, breaking the formerly featureless plain into nine pieces, which then arranged themselves into floating tiers.) At last he hit solid ground but continued to fall, spiraling through rock and soil. The protesting earth of Baator tore at his flesh, opening scores of gaping wounds. Still he fell, until he could fall no farther. The point where he finally stopped was the deepest part of Baator — the Pit. The wounds that Asmodeus suffered in his dramatic fall have never healed. Though he manages to appear blithely unperturbed by his injuries, they still weep blood every day, and he has been wracked by constant pain for millennia.¹⁰

This casting down and its associated injuries is corroborated in other texts as well, including 3e’s Manual of the Planes.

5e’s Mordenkainen’s Tome of Foes seemingly follows on from the Fiendish Codex’s account, sharing one conception of the fallout of Asmodeus’s stratagem, positioned as an in-universe account penned by the aasimar bard Anodius in a work titled “The Trial of Asmodeus”.

At some point after Asmodeus broke from Celestia to rule Baator, he was brought up on trial for unspecified crimes and trespasses. Asmodeus claimed the right to speak in his own defense, and a court was gathered, arbitrated by Primus, a being intrinsically aligned with Neutrality and Law. From Asmodeus’s recorded arguments in his own defense, we can surmise that those on Celestia had accused him of acting outside of the law in actively working to turn mortals to evil.

The case stretched on, with neither side ceding ground, for weeks, until finally Primus declared his judgment. While Asmodeus could not be convicted of any true crime – for he had acted within the law in all things – he was to take an artifact, the Ruby Rod that is synonymous with his position, which would “guarantee his adherence to law”.¹¹ A quote from Anodius’s in-universe text is helpfully provided by Mordenkainen:

“I literally sit beneath eight tiers of scheming, ambitious entities that represent primal law suffused with evil. The path from this realm leads to an infinite pit of chaos and evil. Now, tell me again how you and your ilk are the victims in this eternal struggle.” – Asmodeus addresses the celestial jury, from The Trial of Asmodeus¹¹

In a manner similar to his contested origin, Asmodeus’s appearance is described in several varying ways — a fact that seems in line for a principal schemer such as himself. This seeming discrepancy could also speak to varying uses of aspects or projection spells.

The Fiendish Codex II in one instance paints him as “a horned, red-skinned humanoid with a tall, lithe frame” who “dresses in splendid robes and understated but elegant accoutrements.”¹⁰ A later section in the Codex corresponds to this description given in the Book of Vile Darkness:

Asmodeus stands just over 13 feet tall, with lustrous dark skin and dark hair. He is handsome in the same way that a thunderstorm is beautiful. His red eyes shine with the power of hell, and his head is crowned with a pair of small, dark red horns. He dresses in finery of red and black; a single garment of his might cost what an entire nation spends in a year. Of course, he is never without his Ruby Rod, an ornate piece of unparalleled jeweled finery and vast magical power.¹

Regarding his personality, he is most often described as “a soft-spoken, articulate, chillingly reasonable fellow who is confident in his status as one of the multiverse’s most powerful entities. Even when surprised, he reacts with supreme poise, as if he were already three steps ahead of his adversaries.”¹⁰ The Book of Vile Darkness notes correspondingly that:

The actions of Asmodeus are often mysterious to outside observers, but that is due to the short-sighted and dim-witted view most beings have. Asmodeus’s manipulations are labyrinthine and insidious. They work on a grand scale, although when it suits his needs he is willing to focus his attention even on the status of a lowly mortal soul.¹

¹ Book of Vile Darkness. 2002. p. 165-6.

² Sword Coast Adventurer’s Guide. 2015. p. 21.

³ Sword Coast Adventurer’s Guide. 2015. p. 24.

⁴ Sword Coast Adventurer’s Guide. 2015. p. 118.

⁵ “Watsonian vs. Doylist”. Fanlore.org.

⁶ In general, I try to stay in-universe with these lore writeups, but in this case it did feel like some out-of-universe context was necessary.

⁷ Manual of the Planes. 2001. p. 123.

⁸ Fiendish Codex II: Tyrants of the Nine Hells. 2006. p. 4-5.

⁹ While the description of these events found within the Fiendish Codex is too long to transcribe here in its entirety, I highly encourage you to read the full account for yourself.

¹⁰ Fiendish Codex II. 2006. p. 73-4.

¹¹ Mordenkainen’s Tome of Foes. 2018. p. 9-10.

#voidling speaks #asked and answered #realmslore #my meta #bg3 #bg3 meta #tagging for the relevance to anyone writing about the infernal side of things relative to bg3 #bg3 raphael #baldurs gate 3 #meta #forgotten realms #baator #asmodeus #d&d asmodeus #d&d 5e #d&d 3.5 #long post #an understatement

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aquadestinyswriting · 2 months

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The War of the Red Hammer, the Purges and the History of the Stonespeaker Clan

Happy Worldbuilding Wednesday everyone. Since I'm going to be covering some quite unpleasant history relating to the Throffite and Moradhir communities in the Modern AU, I thought I'd go over the most relevant parts of the Fantasy history here to make sure everything makes sense. Strap in, this is going to be a bit sordid.

Tags: @druidx, @sparrow-orion-writes, @ashirisu, @thesorcerersapprentice, @blind-the-winds, @philosophika, @the-down-upside-finch

Part of the history of the War of the Redhammer has been covered in the article about Kar'ak Ungor/Wyrmholme as it related to that Hold. However, the ramifications of what happened during that war continued even long after it had ended.

The true origins of the war began when Moradin became the main patron deity of the dwarves of Fangthane over Kherillim. While Fangthane did not, at the time, prevent any worship of the Earth Mother, the dwarves of Kar'ak Ungor felt that Kherillim had been slighted by this act and forbade any of their own people from turning their worship to this Outsider deity, going so far as to insist that those who did leave the mountain and create their own community outside of it. While this clearly rankled, Fangthane maintained a cordial, if cooled, relationship with its sister hold due to the close ties of both royal families of the time, understanding that as Kherillim had Blessed that line, they had every right to disallow Moradin entry to their halls.

The Stonespeaker Clan, a family line of Shapers descended from the greater Redhammer Clan, that lived within Fangthane, were among those clans that refused to convert their worship to Moradin. This was entirely expected, and the decision was honoured by the Goldseeker family, who were happy to worship both Moradin and Kherillim in tandem with one another. Fangthane believed the matter to be settled, and life continued on as normal for some time after.

However, it wasn't long before Ladeurger, a brother deity of sorts of Moradin, a god who delighted in slavery and torture, found Titan and attempted to infiltrate and seduce Kherillim's children to take them as His own. While Fangthane was able to rebuff this deity's initial advances, Kar'ak Ungor proved not to be quite so strong. Despite their best efforts, eventually even the Royal Family of that noble people were turned from Kherillim's light and set about forcing those who remained loyal to convert.

As soon as word reached Fangthane of the situation, and they discovered infiltrators among the clans descended from those native to their sister hold, the then King ordered the discovery and execution of any open Ladeurgerites, which prompted retaliation against the Moradhir community living just outside Kar'ak Ungor by the Redhammers. Partway through the war, the king demanded that all who remained loyal to the crown convert at least part of their worship to Moradin, for fear that they might otherwise be seduced by the Enslaver. The only family who was spared from this decree were the Stonespeakers, due entirely to the Blessing bestowed upon them by Kherillim. However, even after the war ended, there were no small number of people in the other noble houses who were suspicious of this exemption. Rumours spread that the Stonespeakers, being direct descendants of the Redhammer line, were spying on Fangthane for the Enslaver and looking for the next opportunity for the evil god to gain a foothold.

While the rumours were entirely unsubstantiated, more infiltrators of the Enslaver were discovered in Fangthane during the reign of Joldrunn Goldseeker - the great-grandfather of the current Low King, Storri Goldseeker - just under 1,000 years ago. In order to expunge the threat from his kingdom, King Joldrunn ordered that all citizens of Fangthane, no matter what religion they otherwise held, immediately convert to Moradhirism or face execution.

At the time this was happening, the younger son of the king, Prince Ragnar, had recently been betrothed to the latest Shaper to be born into the Stonespeaker clan, Merewin. Merewin, and her family, assumed that -as before - they would be spared from this ridiculous decree as they were ardent followers of Kherillim and had never strayed from that path. And for at least three decades after the Purges began, they were. Until Merewin was caught wandering around the Contemplation Chamber without permission from the then Archlector. Merewin was subsequently arrested, informed that, in order to commute her sentence for Treason and Heresy that she would have to convert her worship to prove her loyalty to Fangthane. Merewin, knowing that the charges were utter nonsense, refused. Believing that her refusal confirmed the Council's suspicions that she was a secret worshipper of Ladeurger, Merewin was executed less than a week after her initial arrest, with the rest of her family arrested on the same suspicions a day later. All of them were executed within the week, thereby ending the Stonespeaker line entirely, and the Blessing of Kherillim with them.

It was not until nearly a millennium later that it was finally discovered that the Blessing lived on, when the youngest daughter of the Ironforge family was found to have, somehow, inherited the ability to Shape. Archlector Vanskleig began an investigation into where the girl's ability had come from, only for the foresight of Merewin's eldest brother, Garuld, to finally come to light with the discovery of the Stonespeaker family records hidden within the depths of the Palace's archives. When the official Ironforge family records were compared to the Stonespeaker records found in the Palace archives, it was discovered that Garuld and Magreit had adopted out their youngest son to the Ironforge family at the start of the Purges that took place during Jotunn's reign. A part of the Stonespeaker clan yet remained, and with it, the Blessing. Below is the new family tree that was drawn up to reflect this discovery, which is now considered the official record of the lineage of the current Ironforge clan:

However, questions yet remained. The Blessing had previously only been inherited directly from the Shaper that had come before. While Ovak had certainly been related to Merewin, the fact remained that he was not a direct descendent. The matter was briefly discussed, then promptly forgotten about. All that mattered was that the Blessing endured, even if it was now found primarily within a low to middle class family.

The question, however, would be raised once more following the trial of Meredith Gruksdottir, the current carrier of the Blessing. Part of the evidence that was brought forth during the trial was the eerie similarity of her situation to that of her ancestor, Merewin. Like the Shaper before her, Meredith had been found wandering within the Contemplation Chamber without permission, and was accused of Treason against the Crown and Heresy, believed to be part of a cult responsible for bringing ruin to the Temple of Moradin within Toreguarde and helping to drive the dwarves from that city.

History seemed doomed to repeat itself until Meredith's friends brought forth evidence that was able to clear her name and prove that High Inquisitor Grimbeard was the one responsible for the atrocities he had accused Meredith of. Following the trial's conclusion, Gruksdottir's lawyer brought up some information that he had discovered while looking up the trial of the Stonespeaker clan. He handed over a book that had, purportedly, been found by Meredith in an antechamber beneath the Contemplation Chamber.

This turned out to be a diary, kept over the course of around two years, by Merewin. The diary detailed not only Merewin's thoughts and feelings about the ongoing Purges King Jotunn had commanded, but also the revelation that the child her brother had secretly adopted out had been her own son, born very much out of wedlock with the confirmation of Prince Ragnar as the father.

Questions regarding whether King Jotunn, or any other nobility, knew about this grandson, and whether that might have influenced how quickly Merewin had been executed, were quickly put on hold a mere two months after Meredith's trial. In what some might call an ironic twist of fate, the Cult of Khalin had gained an indelible foothold in the nobility that made up most of the Fangthane Council, proclaiming that, in order for Kherillim to take her rightful place as the patron deity of the dwarven people once more, the Demon Prince was the only one capable of ousting Moradin's presence from the Titan altogether. Civil war engulfed Fangthane, even as the rumblings of Ragnarok's arrival began, putting any further discussions about the legacy of the Stonespeaker Clan on hold until Ragnarok was eventually averted and peace returned to Fangthane.

Below is the condensed family tree Head Librarian Starlim Haneskeeper drafted just before the civil war kicked off:

Currently, debates as to whether to update both the Ironforge and Goldseeker family trees to reflect the information uncovered just before the civil war are ongoing. On the one hand, the modern Ironforge clan are clearly directly descended from what would have been one of the High Noble Houses of Fangthane and deserve recognition of such. On the other, Ovak's birth would not have been recognised by the Crown at the time as Merewin and Ragnar had not yet been married. Even if the Purges had not happened, it was very likely that Ovak's birth would have been swept under the rug, and the child adopted by another family within the Stonespeaker Clan. Many argue that this still means that the modern Ironforge clan should be considered minor nobility, as the Stonespeaker clan were one of the Noble Houses before the Purges occurred.

Those nobles that survived the civil war and are a part of the current Fangthane Council, however, have pointed out that, as Ovak was adopted into and raised by a commoner family, the modern Ironforge clan do not have any cultural ties to the nobility and, as such, should maintain their current position. The only exception they have made to this rule being the current High Inquisitor due to both her position in the Church of Moradin, and her marriage to Yoruk Forhoksson (formerly of Clan Copperheart and later adopted into Clan Bloodvein, both of which are ancient noble lineages).

Gruk Ovaksson, and the others of his family have made no comment on the matter, preferring to stay out of it entirely. However, both Gruk and his younger brother Ufgi, have been hired to maintain and repair the armour, weaponry and runic enchantments of the King's Guard and the Hammers of the Moradhir Guard since the end of the civil war. It is unknown whether this is due to services rendered during the war or if this is some sort of compromise to keep everyone happy.

#aquadestinyswriting #worldbuilding #titan fighting fantasy #wbw #worldbuilding wednesday

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colealexart · 1 month

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What if Laura somehow manages to have Imogen get/keep/use Moradin's hammer

i’m curious what prompted this. i don’t think imogen has the strength to even pick a hammer up /j

#ask

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pawthorn · 2 years

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[ID: A digital painting of the Allhammer, from Exandria lore. He is a faceless dwarf, with holding a flaming-white heart in his hands, braids blowing back in the heat. He is framed by wrought gold depicting mountains, clouds, etc. An etched green and gold hammer, with dwarf faces on each end, rests at the bottom of the frame.]

Here's my take on Moradin, the Allhammer, for the @artists-guild-of-exandria Beyond the Divine Gate project. It was really fun to dig-in to the lore of a deity I wasn't very familiar with, to find how I wanted to express his essence in my art. You can find more art from this project in the hashtag below, or by following the Artist Guild of Exandria here or on Twitter! So many amazing artists participated in this project, it was really cool to see everyone's art come together!

#critical role #BeyondTheDivineGate #btdg #critical role fan art #exandria lore #beyond the divine gate #my art #body horrow cw #for supernatural facelessness #pawthorn art

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artists-guild-of-exandria · 2 years

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Moradin's divine seal is unveiled, the All-Hammer is revered by smiths, artisans, and miners a like, and is the protector of home and family.⚒️ If you are interested in joining this or future projects please send a DM for more info!

#Critical Role Fan Art #Critical Role #Beyond the Divine Gate #Exandria #exandria lore #Critters #Moradin

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ravensofdarkwind · 1 year

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Chapter 2: The Tax Collectors

The first tax collector gored himself on the minotaur’s horns. With a flick of her head, he went flying through the nearest merchant’s stall. The tax collectors that had stood lazily on the outside of the crowd now readied bolts in their crossbows. Morbek jumped out from behind the houses with his hands raised.

“In the name of Moradin, stop!” He bellowed. The earth trembled at his voice, shaking slightly back and forth.

The tax collectors paid it no mind; one of the crossbow wielders aimed at Morbek, shooting a bolt into his shoulder. Morbek stumbled backwards, clutching the arrow, before retreating back behind the houses. The five remaining collectors began shouting at each other, forming a plan to take out the intruders. One of the larger collectors picked up his heaving club and began to stalk over to Birdie and Morbek.

Birdie, in a drunken haze, saw Morbek clutching his shoulder and peeked out from behind the edge of the house. He took a mental note of where each collector was while pulling out his sword. Unlike his performance earlier in the day, Birdie played the notes smoothly; a haunting bass piece filled the air with magic.

Morbek began to reach his hand out to stop Birdie from continuing to play when he heard one of the collectors scream in anguish. Through the dim torchlight, the pair saw the largest tax collector clutching his ears, blood dripping down in large amounts. He bellowed in rage, letting the blood fall freely onto the pavement.

Birdie rushed forward, abruptly cutting off his piece as he took a diving stab at the rageful tax collector. The blade sunk into the half-orc’s side, more of his blood spilling onto the pavement.

In a final act of defiance, the deeply damaged tax collector swung his club in an arc. The blow knocked Birdie aside, into the nearest houses’ walls.

Birdie pulled himself upright to retreat behind the houses once more. He breathed heavily, the fight beginning to sober him up. He looked down at his rapier, covered in blood for the first time. Was this really happening?

He heard a loud smash as someone’s bones crushed under some weight. He looked up from his sword to gauge where everyone had moved to since his retreat. Instead of a vengeful tax collector, he saw the minotaur from before, gravely wounded. She sucked in a breath of air, wincing as she pulled a crossbolt out from her side.

Birdie stumbled over to her, holding his hand out. She backpedaled, then recognized him as the halfling from before. She let her guard down slightly as Birdie finished his approach.

Birdie began to whisper a spell he semi-remembered in his drunken haze. He placed a hand to her side where the bolt had been, watching as the wound began to close itself. He stepped back from his handiwork, nearly slipping into the river that ran by the houses.

The minotaur made eye contact with Birdie, nodding to him as she blew fresh steam out of her nose. He nodded back. “That. IS the only one I know.” He slurred out before stumbling his way back out from behind the houses to help his other friends.

Two tax collectors remained upright in Moonshine’s square. Birdie watched as an apparition of a hammer tore through the square, crushing one of the ranged collectors in the chest. She wheezed out, dropping her crossbow.

Birdie decided he should help out more. He took the small dagger from his hip, sticking his tongue out as he aimed at the blurred image of the tax collector. He quickly flicked his wrist, sending the knife flying into her shoulder. She clutched it, falling to the ground, then laying still as blood pooled around her shoulder and mouth.

The last tax collector made a break for it through the town square, jumping over the burliest tax collector towards an escape. The owlin leapt out from behind one of the houses, clotheslining the retreater. The last collector fell to the ground, gasping for air as he backed himself up on his elbows. The owlin stalked after him, pressing his foot against the tax collector's chest.

“You, are going to answer for your crimes.” He threatened.

Birdie made his way over to the fallen foe. Through his film of vision, he saw fear in the man’s eyes. He was small, for a human, blood soaked his shirt and pants as he struggled against the weight the owlin had pinned him under.

“I don’t want to die, I just wanted my cut of the money! They promised me a cut, they said this would be an easy job!”

The owlin took his weight off the tax collectors chest. Morbek and Hesmira had made their way over to the other two.

“So, who do you serve? Anyone?” Morbek interrogated.

“No one! No one, I swear! I just saw that this was supposed to be an easy job, easy money!” The man sputtered out.

Birdie lifted his sword once more, this time to the man’s neck. “You,” He garbled. “Are going to leave, and never come back.” Birdie removed his sword, leaving a small knick on the man’s neck.

The man began to scramble to his feet, trying to take off as fast as he could from certain death. He slipped on his and the other tax collectors blood. He tried once again to struggle to his feet. The owlin was less patient with the man’s attempts to escape. With a resounding thwack, the weighted staff crushed the deserter’s head. The owlin made no reflection on the act as he placed his staff back to its origin.

“Murderers!”

The four “heroes” turned to face the crowd. More began to raise their voices; “Murderers!” they called out, circling the group. With a sharp whistle from Birdie, the jeering came to a halt.

“How are we murders to you?” The minotaur barked out. “We just saved you all from men who were about to take everything from you!”

“We don’t mean them,” One brave person stepped forward, pointing past the four of them. “We mean our guards.”

“Hang them!”

“Murderers!”

“Have them face the chief!”

The crowd roared in agreement as the town hall’s doors swung open. A bullywog walked through the crowd, his ornamental staff clicking against the stone every so often.

“Now” The bullwog started, himself face to face with the four accused. He began to speak again, but not before Birdie became sick by the amount of alcohol he had consumed before the battle. Right at the bullywog’s feet. The chief sneered at him in disgust. Birdie offered back an apologetic smile.

“Now see here,” the chief restarted. “you have saved us from a problem I myself did not want to deal with. Those tax collectors have been bothering us for quite some time.”

“However, you did kill two of our guards, leaving us vulnerable to attacks that may come our way.”

“But you let them take money from the townsfolk willingly?” Morbek indicted incredulously.

“Now, you don’t run this town, I do.” The bullywog puffed out his air sack with a deep rumble of warning. “And as such, I am sentencing you to trial for the murdering of our guards. You will be escorted to Giant’s Foot where you will stand trial in front of Lord Gracious.”

The owlin took a step forward and began to reach for his staff. “And if we refuse?”

“Then I will have no problem ending your lives here and now.”

The sound of large, mounted crossbows moving into position and being loaded was heard. The four realized that they were surrounded, with no way out.

Morbek slung away his hammer in a sign of surrender. “When do we leave?” he asked, hopeful to cause no more trouble.

“Immediately.” The chief drawled. He motioned for the carriage driver from before to pick up the four miscreants. “Tell me the name of your group, so I know who to tell Lord Gracious to expect when you arrive in Giant’s Foot.”

“WE ARE.” Birdie exclaimed, “THE ROGUE FOUR!”

Protests erupted from the other three. The bullywog sneered again in disgust at Birdie. He composed himself quickly before finishing his letter, placing it on a small falcon and sending it out of the town.

“The Rogue Four it is. I ask that you hastily make your way to Giant’s Foot. His Graciousness will be expecting you.”

The four clamored into the empty carriage. Birdie stumbled into the carriage, curling up in a corner, burying his face into the small velvet handkerchief that stuck out of his breast pocket. Morbek climbed in afterwards, turning and bowing to the bullywog chief one last time before sitting in the opposite corner on the same side as Birdie. The minotaur followed, still clutching the wounds on her torso, looking at the halfling that somehow got them all into this mess. The owlin took the last empty corner, contemplating the group’s fate.

The carriage pulled forward out of the town, leaving in an eerie silence.

#dungeons and dragons #dnd 5e campaign #dnd5e #dnd #dndstory #dnd character #dnd oc #ravens of darkwind

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oldschoolfrp · 4 years

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Moradin the Soul Forger, greater god of the dwarven pantheon (Jim Roslof, AD&D Deities & Demigods, TSR, 1980)

#D&D #Dungeons & Dragons #Jim Roslof #Moradin #dwarf #Deities & Demigods #AD&D #god #deity #hammer #anvil #forge #sword #blacksmith #dnd #Dungeons and Dragons #TSR

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rangerofpelor · 5 years

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mmmmm havin one of those evenings where i’m emo abt the concept of valko and grisha being pair of souls that are always destined to find each other but they’re also always destined to hurt each other

#look....#i have an au where they're like....two of the original of souls of the world forged under moradin's hammer #and in every lifetime they meet each other and in every lifetime they grow close and in every life time they destroy each other #catch me on a monday night sobbing about reincarnation aus #oc: valko fejes #r: mutually assured destruction

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druidx · 2 years

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Rain and blood

Universe: The Fighting Fantasy World of Titan CW: Injury Words: 190 Context: Wrote this a while back and forgot to post it. Just a little drabble because I wanted to write something. Spun the name picker to get the characters, and used a few prompts: “is that blood” from @hellsenthero; and “Rain” from @gaylittleinkeepers.

The rain hammered down, overflowing the city sewer drains, turning the cobbled streets into miniature rivers. The air was cold and damp, and the dark-haired elf shivered at her post, drawing her cloak closer as she stared into the early twilight. "How's it going, sarge?" The elf glanced to the side, to the blond dwarf now leaning against her desk. "Quietly, constable Thir. Even crooks know better than to go out in weather like this." "Aye," Thir agreed. He slid a mug onto the desk. "Thought you might like a warmer sarge." The elf nodded, reaching to take the mug, when the door crashed open, howling wind and sheeting rain chasing the figure that stumbled in. "Sargent Agresta!" The elf was on her feet instantly, rushing to the newcomer's aid as Thir wrestled the door closed behind them. "Sir? Sir, what's happened? I need your name." Agresta said, supporting the figure. The sodden cloak fell to the floor, revealing an athletic human, blond hair in disarray. "Jabinsky," he croaked, body slipping bonelessly from Agresta's arms. "Moradin's beard," said Thir as he caught the man's other side, "is that blood?"

#writing #Titan Fighting Fantasy #original character #wandering words #oc - Agresta #oc - Thir Thundersword #oc - Mirek Jabinzky #i may or may not do something further with this

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magical-awesome-kid · 4 years

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Just because I was thinking about NADDPOD and the fact that Hardwon of the three boobs has the shortest lifespan, I started to remember that Moonshine LITERALLY teleported them into basically a room in Heaven to have Hardwon visit Elias Sr. So it got me thinking that Hardwon, even when he goes, won’t be out of the story.

Imagine an old, haggard Hardwon who’s stuck around far too long thanks to Magic but his body aches, and it’s hard enough to lift a hammer these days. He’s already passed on the King’s Hammer to his daughter, a little girl who’s a tall dwarf raised amongst the crick folk. She’s made her own name, and Hardwon couldn’t be prouder.

Moonshine and Beverly have also grown, but Moonshine looks hardly a couple years older then she had been all those decades ago. Beverly has become a young Halfling man, but he also appears much younger then his halfling husband, who is the same age.

So when the two are distraught with everyone else, Hardwon is just “don’t forget to visit me” because in his heart he knows better than to think this is the final good bye.

And then he goes... but doesn't.

He meets up with the Dusk Mother, Kord, Pelor, and Moradin. He can smell the Crick in the air, which soon becomes the land, and he knows Melora is there as well.

Hardwon looks like himself right after the world had settled. Sure, he and the others had played roles in other fights, but they also spent much of the rest of his life being teachers and guides to the new generations of heroes. He feels strong and pain-free for the first time in a while.

So the gods sit him down and explain that he’s got a lot of pull in the afterlife. He was one of them, after all, for a short time, and he stabilized the mortal realm. The Dusk Mother doesn’t want him in the Ruby Dawn (formally Hell), but she also knows that he had a ball while being there, and she could keep him in contact with his mother in Shadowfell. Kord, of course, laid claim through his father, and, in recent years, the two have bonded. Pelor owes his heart to the Boobs, and he’s offering a cruise ship with all the solo cups. Moradin was his OG god and looks after all the loves Hardwon has truly had. Melora, there in spirit, reaffirms that his later life was of the Crick, and, even though she has given up her physical form, she can still offer her a place in her eternal tree stump.

Hardwon doesn’t know how long he’s talking it over, especially because time doesn’t exist where they are, but eventually he asks a favor - that they all pitch together. Instead of a cruise ship, he gets a simple air vessel from Pelor, one which his daughter imbues with her own magic to pierce between the realms. There is a permanent slip for the ship at the stump, Kord’s Hall, and Moradin’s forge. Hardwon is the first of the demigods to find home not in one dimension but many, and, over the years, he becomes a kind of mini-god of his own, one of pure hearted adventurers and never-ending spirit.

Of course, after his funeral, Moonshine has NO IDEA where to go, because her and Bev are like “what heaven would he go to???” So they pop down to the Ruby Dawn because the Dusk Mother likes them a lot and also they like to goof off down there on the race tracks she kept just for them and the spirits who race to work out their feelings.

Of course, they find the ship docked to the highest tower and, racing up the stairs, they find a younger Hardwon helping the Dusk Mother with a painting class for some of her wayward spirits, working out emotions through art. It’s One Big Pile On as Bev and Moonshine hug the ever-loving shit out of the man, and they KNOW he’s dead but Ruby Dawn? Like it’s fun but he doesn’t seem to fit here.

He then explains his ship, its power, and how he’s just... continuing to be him. Moonshine puts her scry sigil on the ship so she can always find Hardwon, and over the years Hardwon collects his own crew of adventurers who just can’t let adventure die, and Moonshine and Bev, until their own passings, come visit regularly to update him on the gossip of the mortal realm and bring him Sticky buns.

Moonshine and Bev settle a bit more than Hardwon, in the Stump and with Pelor, but he visits and brings them along whenever they ask.

#NADDPOD #Hardwon Surefoot #Beverly toegold the fifth #Moonshine cybin #Paw paw

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aquadestinyswriting · 2 months

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Foreshocks

Summary: Meredith and Ufgi head down to the Trading District after finishing a late shift in the Cathedral. They take a shortcut only to find more than they bargained for.

Words: 1,913

Tags: @druidx, @sparrow-orion-writes ,@ashirisu, @thesorcerersapprentice, @blind-the-winds, @philosophika, @the-down-upside-finch

Warnings: Fantasy violence, knives, threats of bodily harm, magical accident

Notes: foreshocks are the initial rumblings before an earthquake hits. I leave it to you, dear audience, to decide what kind of disaster the title is a forewarning of.

It was a quiet evening down in the Trading District. Most of the people who worked in the area had long since left and were chasing the day’s troubles away at the various pubs dotted around the area. The sound of raucous singing filtered out of the Porter’s Axe as two young dwarves, both clerics of Moradin, walked along the street, turning a corner onto a side street wedged between two tall warehouses,

“...So I says to Kidri ‘Ye’ve got to be the daftest wean I’ve ever kent!’” the taller of the two exclaimed, frustration tinging his words. His companion, shook her head and scoffed,

“I bet she didn’t tak’ that well.” The much shorter dwarf muttered, shaking her head, “Kidri hates being reminded she’s the youngest o’ us.” She looked up at her travelling companion, who grunted,

“I don’t know what to do with her, Merri.” he groaned, “Gran’s trying her best but she’s getting on a bit now, and Granda’s no help whatsoever!” he threw his hands up in the air as the two of them made it to the other end of the side street, pausing a moment to gesticulate. Meredith patted her friend’s arm,

“Ufgi, I’m sure if ye –” she started, only to stop part way through her sentence at the sound of crashing metal quickly followed by a high pitched yelp. Meredith held up a hand to quiet her chestnut-haired friend’s question, her eyes narrowing as she caught sight of a group of skinny, shadowed figures exiting her father’s smithy. Ufgi tugged on her stole, quickly backing up as he noticed the figures as well,

“Merri, no. C’mon we’re better off getting a hold o’ the Ironguard.” he hissed. Meredith glared up at him,

“If you think for one minute that I’m gonna let a bunch of stinkin’ gobbos trash my da’s smithy, ye’ve got another thing comin’ Kiruksson!” she hissed back, stepping forward and tearing her stole out of her friend’s grip, pulling out her mace. Ufgi swore under his breath, quickly Blessed his friend and dashed back down the street to find someone that could help.

The goblins paused in their stroll down the street, looking up at the young dwarf storming towards them. One of them giggled maniacally,

“Aw, lookit her. Does the little baby dwarfy want to come play?” they cooed, causing the rest of their group to giggle along with them.

“Cor, she’s a short-arse, ain’t she?” another called, “What’re you gonna do sweetheart? Swing that hammer at my knees?” The whole group cackled,quickly surrounding the lone cleric. Meredith merely snorted and adjusted her grip on her mace,

“Could take out more than yer knees.” she retorted. She glanced around at the group of greenskins surrounding her. Three. More than she would have liked, but nothing she couldn’t handle for a few minutes at least. The largest of them cackled, drawing out a rusty shortsword,

“I’d like to see you try with all of us on you at once, girlie.” they sneered. They pointed their sword at Meredith, causing the other two to leap forward, drawing their weapons as they did.

Meredith swore under her breath as she ducked under the swings of the two taller goblins and quickly parried a strike coming at her midsection from the one who’d seen her first. She stepped back and pulled out her Holy Symbol with her free hand, quickly muttering a prayer. Golden light shimmered around her, just in time to deflect another dagger strike from the smallest goblin,

“Faster than you look, beardy.” the creature taunted, “But you’re gonna have to do better than some parlour tricks.” they added, looking over Meredith’s shoulder. The cleric had no time to react as a club cracked down on her shoulder, pain shooting down the arm and causing her to drop her mace. Meredith grunted as a clawed hand shoved her to her knees,

“Well, well, well. What have we got here, lads?” a new voice chuckled, “You’se a brave one, I’ll give you that.” it added with a sneer. Meredith growled, turning her head to come face to face with a much larger goblin, his skin a brighter green than the others, surrounded by a much larger group, who were fanning out to completely surround her. The lead goblin leered as he leaned down, placing a large knife at her throat, before running the point down to her chin,

“Pretty little beard you got there. Wonder how long it’s gonna take to get it all off?” he tittered gleefully. Meredith’s heart raced, anger boiling in her gut. Like hell she was going to just sit here and let him shave her. Ignoring the flare of pain in her shoulder, Meredith spat in the goblin’s face and took the opportunity to shove him aside as he reeled back. She stumbled forward, towards a small gap in the crowd, only to be sent sprawling to the floor as two of the lackeys leapt onto her back.

The lead goblin cackled as Meredith struggled to free herself,

“Nice try, girlie, but we’se not stupid!” he crowed, “Tell you’se what, seeing as I like you, I take the beard and let you live, how’s that?” he asked as he sauntered around and crouched in front of Meredith, knife pointed at her face and a sadistic smile on his face. The fire in Meredith’s veins turned to ice.

No. Nonononono.

Meredith tensed, squeezing her eyes shut. She began muttering a desperate prayer under her breath, gathering up as much power as Moradin was willing to grant to allow her to escape.

Several sets of ears perked up, hearing distant whistles and warcries. The lead goblin snorted and leaned in towards the dwarven cleric being pinned by his goons,

“Ugh, damn, gotta make this quick.” he muttered, placing the knife at Meredith’s ear. The moment the knife made contact with bare skin, Meredith's mind went blank, her prayer forgotten. She jerked her head away,

“Leave me alone!” she thundered. The goblins surrounding her didn’t have time to react before the magic that the cleric had been gathering detonated and the street under their feet jerked violently upwards before falling still once more.

As soon as the latent tremors had settled a group of three Ironguard, led by Ufgi raced around the corner,

“Moradin’s beard. What the hells happened here?” Lieutenant Woldbasher asked, looking around at the cracks in the buildings and the scattered remains of what looked like a dozen goblins. He was still taking in the damage when one of his officers called out,

“Sir! We got an injury over here!” Officer Stonehewer knelt next to Meredith, her usually ruddy face ashen as her Lieutenant rushed over, “Lassie’s completely unconscious and barely breathing. She’s got a dislocated shoulder but no other external injuries.” she reported. Woldbasher nodded and looked around at the destruction surrounding them. He frowned,

“Don’t know how she managed this much damage, but this looks like a classic case of over-channel.” he said. The greying dwarf looked up and gestured to his other officer,

“Darbek, run ahead to the Cathedral, inform them that we have a severe case of over-channel incoming. Stonehewer, I want you to start gathering evidence, find out where and how those greenskin bastards got all the way up to the Trading District without being spotted.” he ordered. Both officers saluted, with the stockier Darbek racing further up the street towards the stairs leading to the Cathedral, while Stonehewer took out her notebook and started to scribble in it.

“What about me, sir?” a small, nervous voice asked. Woldbasher looked over his shoulder, his expression softening as he looked at the much younger dwarf dithering anxiously behind him,

“You got any spells left in you, son?” The Ironguard Lieutenant asked. Ufgi grimaced, twisting his hands together, but he nodded,

“Aye sir. But I’m only able to cast the most basic Cure spells, and not many.” he replied,”If Merri’s managed an over-channel that bad I don’t know if –” he cut himself off, swallowing thickly. Woldbasher nodded,

“I know it’s a big ask, son, but you’re the only healer I have.” he told the beardling, “Some healing’s better than none.” he added. Ufgi nodded, setting his jaw and scampering over beside the Lieutenant. He pulled out his Holy Symbol, gripped it tightly in one hand, bowed his head and muttered a prayer. He reached out and gently placed his free hand on Meredith’s arm, a gentle blue glow emitting from it as he did. The wheeze in Meredith’s chest eased. Woldbasher nodded and quickly picked the prone cleric up, gesturing for Ufgi to follow him as he started to run towards the stairs leading to the Cathedral right as a crowd started to gather from the nearby pubs to see what had caused the mini-earthquake that had interrupted their drinks.

Meredith groaned softly as her mind started to claw its way back to consciousness. Everything ached and she didn’t have the strength to even open her eyes just yet. She felt soft cotton under her fingers and could hear a distant, if somewhat garbled, feminine voice singing. Though she couldn’t make out the words, Meredith vaguely recognised the tune as an old hymn. She was about to let it lull her back down into the gentle embrace of sleep, when the smell of incense mixed with pine reached her nose.

Oh, Moradin’s balls. Not again.

As much as the rest of her protested the action, Meredith heaved her eyes open. A familiar, naturally carved and pitted ceiling met her gaze. The singing stopped, replaced by a relieved-sounding sigh,

“Good morning, leannan.” Morag called softly, “How are you feeling?” she asked, gently stroking at Meredith’s cheek as her daughter gingerly turned her head to look at her. Meredith groaned again,

“Like a dozen carts full o’ lead ran me o’er.” she mumbled, “Please tell me that I’m no’ gonna have a bunch o’ medicine shoved down my throat.” she whinged. Morag suppressed her laugh as she shook her head,

“No, love, no medicine.” She replied, “However, Sister Imraksdottir did say you’d need to rest for about two weeks, and has told me you have strict instructions to drink as much water as possible.” She tried not to smile too much as Meredith pouted,

“Oh, alright, fine.” she grumbled, “Please tell me I can do that at home?”

Morag’s smile turned a little more indulgent. She nodded,

“I think the good Sister wants to keep you in one more night, just to make sure that nothing’s been permanently damaged.” she said, “But after that, you’ll be sent home and won’t have to spend that time looking at these sorry old walls.” she assured her daughter. Meredith relaxed, blinking tiredly,

“I think I can deal with that.” she murmured. She fought to keep her eyes open, “How long was I out anyway?” she asked, her words starting to slur. Morag shook her head and stroked her hair,

“About two days. Given how much power you apparently managed to channel, though, I think it’s safe to say that’s not quite enough, hmm?” she replied. Meredith grumbled, but allowed her eyes to slide back shut. Morag continued stroking her daughter’s hair, watching as proper sleep finally swept her into its gentle embrace. She started to sing again, finishing the hymn she’d been singing before her daughter had woken up,

“Better lo’ed ye canna be,

Will ye no’ come back again?”

#aquadestinyswriting #titan fighting fantasy #the trouble with meredith #fantasy violence #knives tw #weapons tw #magical accident #threat of bodily harm

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thatdragonsdrabbles · 3 years

Text

D&D Character Backstory Commission (warning: character death)

(Details about my writing commissions here)

Clem's story started, as most dwarves do, in the ground. Expertly carved stone stretched from floor to ceiling in the home of his clan, smooth and unbroken. A simple comfort, for a dwarf. Adventure held the appeal of an exciting road trip, when you had a place to return to afterwards. When he wasn't striking heated metal under the strict eye of the master smith, Clem ventured into the outer caverns, where the stone was rough and treacherous beneath inexperienced feet. But sore muscles and a few bruises couldn't dull the glittering of the precious ore he brought back. This provided material to further his education, and the beginnings of a wanderlust at odds with the pride he had in his home.

As a rule, a dwarf never mined new areas alone. After all, unfamiliar stone could conceal hidden dangers. Handfuls of them would go out to retrieve crafting materials. Often, Clem found himself on the same team as Gurdis. Her favorite treasure tended to match the blue of her eyes. She was also quite fond of tripping him with her pickaxe. They bickered for hours over ideal mining spots, and who received what material to craft into merchandise at the market. By the time they were young adults, they bickered over who would propose first. (Clem would. Not that Gurdis would ever admit it.) They always had something to argue about in their house. It was wonderful! Home was where the stubborn, immovable rock, that never let you forget that one time you lost an argument about the price of a pair of sapphire earrings, was.

The flow of trade in and out of the caverns never ceased. Surface dwellers' need for stone, metal and gems was unending, and dwarves like Clem would rather avoid any and all water-based travel. Humans were eager to sail anyway—especially to places they shouldn't. This mysterious urge never quite made sense to Gurdis either. Steep, dangerous mountainsides, sure, that was a good Tuesday night. Churning waters with nary a rock in sight? Hard pass. Still, it made for interesting stories at the market.

The only reason Clem remembered any stranger's name past a transaction was to prove or deny their usefulness to Gurdis. She was particularly adamant that a human named Elliot Stillwater was crap at metalwork, but had a better eye for precious gems than Clem did. “Well, of course he's a crap smithy, he's not even fifty,” Clem pointed out. “Could hardly expect a child to know how to temper a blade worth anything at the market.” But he took offense to the other accusation. He'd live around rocks and gems for his entire life! If some human child knew more about them than he did, he'd eat his hat!

Clem stopped wearing hats. It became apparent that he'd picked a fight with, as Elliot put it, a “total nerd.” Humans on the surface apparently had an entire college dedicated to the study of every rock under the sun and the earth. This one in particular had a vested interest in how dwarves utilized them—hence his frequent visits. When Gurdis asked why he didn't leave when Clem started interrogating him every few minutes, Elliot said he “loved pop quizzes.” No matter how many times Clem denied it, the human regrettably referred to him as a close friend.

The first time Clem traveled on the surface for days was to do a heist.

Elliot wouldn't shut up about this dwarven axe that once belonged to Clem's clan but was stolen by some raiders centuries ago. It now sat in some human's fort on the surface as a trophy of conquest. Gurdis was adamant it be returned. Clem knew Elliot couldn't tell a dwarf's handiwork from an orc's. But his wife just wouldn't let it go. Eventually he turned to her and declared he would get the axe himself if it meant she'd finally believe him. She told him he wouldn't make it a day on the surface. And that's how they found themselves joining Elliot's trade group for a little detour. The fort welcomed them without fuss. Gleefully, Elliot pointed it out as they passed through the mess hall. Clem's expected triumph withered away when he realized that, not only was the axe of dwarven make, it was a treasured heirloom of his clan. And it sat several meters above a roaring fireplace. Gurdis got that smug look on her face...

Two pickaxes, a sudden musical number, a broken wall, and a runaway cart later, Clem was telling Elliot to shut his gob while strapping the axe to his back. He didn't even attempt silencing Gurdis, who had been crowing her triumph even while dismantling the fort wall. At least the feast thrown by the clan elder at the axe's return made the hassle worth it. That, and they got to watch Elliot get absolutely sloshed on dwarven mead. Served him right.

This little adventure, unfortunately, had motivated the human to bring more opportunities to his doorstep. Apparently there was a treasure trove of dwarven items to be returned. And when those slowed to a trickle, Elliot convinced them to participate in other 'liberation efforts.' They were getting rather talented at it, after all. Robbery after break-in after heist followed. A reputation began to build, of “a chatty charlatan and his gruff dwarf bodyguards 'liberating' artifacts.” Clem regretted ever listening to him.

Nalesha Ernathrevar was only one of many “acquaintances” that Elliot brought to Clem and Gurdis' shop. She wasn't the first half-elf, or druid, to propose returning dwarven belongings to their rightful place. Once before, she had happily caused them to trek through spider-ridden woods for what turned out to be nothing. Gurdis had particularly hated that trip. But Nalesha did bring them the first underground adventure. A nearby cavern had collapsed, burying precious cargo and several bodies beneath rubble. Some high elves had been traveling to return a long lost hammer, as a show of good faith. Gurdis once again couldn't let it go, and Clem decided for the nth time to shut her up by proving her wrong. Of course they wouldn't find some incredible hammer just sitting under some rocks! It was going to be a waste of time, he knew it. Gurdis told him to stay home if he was so certain. He refused, of course. If nothing else, they could do some mining in the area so they didn't return home empty-handed.

Smalltalk was plentiful on the way. Gurdis argued with Clem about Nalesha's earrings. Nalesha complimented Elliot's adventuring spirit. Clem quizzed Nalesha on the hammer they were retrieving. He was becoming more and more convinced that this was a fool's errand. She didn't even know the hammer's name. Elliot pointed out she wouldn't know much about metal weapons anyway, being a druid.

“What's that got to do with anything?” Gurdis' sharp voice carried through the tunnel. Clem, bringing up the rear, told her to quiet down.

“Druids don't carry metal on them,” Elliot explained, falling into that annoying scholarly tone of his. Gurdis came to a halt, allowing him and Nalesha to pass her. “Y'see, they're concerned with the balance of nature. They can't use anything they consider “unnatural,” like metal or—” He nearly bumped into the half-elf when she stopped ahead of him. “Nalesha? What's wrong?”

She ignored him, peering back at Clem and Gurdis. “Is something the matter, friend?”

At first, Clem expected his wife to begin crowing about a new victory. But Gurdis wasn't dredging up an old argument. Eyeing him, she remained where she stood. “Then what is our druid friend here doing with metal earrings?”

Elliot frowned, as if it hadn't occurred to him to ask until now. He turned. Clem moved, but his wife was faster. Two shouts, a flash of metal, the thunk of a bolt, and an outraged cry later, Clem was telling Elliot to run while flinging his pickaxe at Nalesha. The half-elf sank to the ground at the same time as Gurdis, but not before lifting her arms with the crackle of magic. The tunnel roared, until treacherous stone collapsed. But Clem refused to give up. Shouldering and tossing aside the rubble, he unearthed his wife, breath wet and ragged. He dropped to his knees, arguing that she shouldn't have leapt in front of him like that.

Baring her teeth, Gurdis choked, “Told... die protecting... first...” Clem searched for something, anything to stop the bleeding. This wasn't an argument he wanted her to win.

Within a candlemark, there was no one to bicker with him anymore.

His boots had echoed oddly on the way back from the rough tomb, leading him to a house alien in its emptiness. The still air had never driven him mad before. When it proved too much, he found his hand on his axe and his foot out the door. Days and nights, he dug. Whispered “I told you so”s and the shriek of steel on stone following him through the caverns. It was just as well. Dwarves never mined new areas alone.

Excavation later ferreted out the truth. Hidden beneath Nalesha's layers was the emblem of a cunning spider, denoting a dedication to malevolent forces. Whatever her sinister plot, it had been foiled by Gurdis' discovery and Clem's axe. But he was inconsolable. He should've realized it was odd of a self-proclaimed druid to only commune with spiders. That Elliot didn't know a lick about anything other than rock and earth. He should've decided, this time, to refuse this retrieval job. But he hadn't. Taking out the one responsible had brought little comfort to the grieving dwarf. Carving and polishing Gurdis' grave marker brought no relief. Asking why us, why her, why not me did little good.

Finally, Clem packed what little was necessary, and left.

Squinting against the blizzard, the dwarf trudged through an alien, wintery land. Ice and snow stretched across the land, smooth and unbroken. It brought no comfort.

Until Moradin judged him as having served his penance, it was what he deserved.

#tabletop characters #original fiction #my writing

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