Baen Pummeltongue

Baen was born to Larek Hammerforged, a famed forgemaster, and Hannel Ironheart, a respected clan warden. Raised in the tradition of his people, he was taught that loyalty, service, and self-sacrifice were essential for survival in an age where monstrous horrors still roamed the land and tribal feuds smothered the fragile embers of civilization.

From his father, he learned the art of forging; from his mother, he received an education in history, heritage, and the complex web of inter-clan affairs. It wasn’t long before Baen grew deeply interested in the relationships between the scattered dwarven tribes.

Raids were frequent. So were mine collapses, bad harvests, and quiet Sleeps that ended in starvation. Baen studied these hardships and came to a bitter realization: his people never learned from their suffering. They endured, but they did not change. And yet, in the forge, they refined their art endlessly. Why not their society?

Baen possessed a rare gift: the ability to persuade. His voice could rally bitter rivals and silence halls. It wasn’t long before he was named clan emissary, sent to speak where others fought.

It was then he earned the nickname Pummeltongue, for his words left opponents more bruised than any mace ever could. The name, first uttered in jest, clung to him as he climbed—and in time, he embraced it. It became a symbol of what dwarves could build not just with strength, but with will.

After a disastrous gathering of the tribes—marked by failed negotiations, worsening famine, and attacks that left entire villages wiped out—Baen made his choice.

Unite, or perish.
There would be no third option.

Before he ever served as clan emissary—or rose to the title of High King of Rolfgar—Baen worked as a journeyman forger. He was known not only for his precise technique, but for his relentless ingenuity. Early in his career, he devised several tools and improvements that advanced dwarven smithing in subtle but lasting ways.

Even after uniting the tribes, Baen never turned his back on the forge. He often said that ruling sharpened his mind but left his hands idle—and idle hands, for Baen, were intolerable. The forge became his escape, his anchor, and his clarity.

He is believed to have forged the Sigil of Unity—the emblem of the twenty clans—as well as his own crown and scepter. When it came to his personal weapon, he allowed no other hands to touch it. Only his would shape the tool he would wield in war and judgment.

• Forged the twenty clans of the Rolfgar region into a single nation
• Founded the first codified law ever discovered
• Oversaw the carving of the Hall of Tribes in the heart of Rolfgar Mountain
• Forged the Unity Sigil, later replicated in exile communities

• Despite his foresight, failed to anticipate the impending doom.
• His refusal to evacuate the mountain and abandon his kingdom cost the lives of thousands.
• His body was lost in the collapse — no tomb exists to honor and nobody remembers his true form.

Baen was exceptionally intelligent—a quick learner, a sharp observer, and an even sharper speaker. He could adapt to shifting circumstances with ease, never allowing surprise or misfortune to unseat his judgment. In debate or negotiation, he had a talent for guiding conversations exactly where he wanted them to land, often without his opponent realizing it.

His intellect was not merely cleverness—it was anchored in discipline. Once he set his mind to a course of action, no setback could dissuade him, and no counsel could sway him from a vision he believed to be just. It was this combination of clarity, focus, and quiet calculation that made him not a mere ruler like the chieftains, but a true leader of his peers.

Baen believed that the forces of nature and fate were not to be feared — they were to be harnessed, shaped, and forged, as one would shape steel at the anvil. To him, survival was not granted. It was earned, through will, discipline, and labor.

His upbringing instilled in him the belief that those unwilling to work for the greater good were unworthy of respect or pity. This principle was embedded into the laws of Rolfgar: justice was firm, but never arbitrary. He ruled with a strict hand, but not a cruel one.

Baen had no tolerance for insubordination or selfishness, yet he was not above challenge. His law allowed for any dwarf to stand against their leader — but only if they were willing to do so openly, with conviction and consequence.

His legacy is that of a strict but fair ruler; one who valued order, purpose, and unity above all.

Baen’s motives are often described as pure: born of necessity, survival, and the unshakable will to protect his people. In a world haunted by monsters and fractured by feuds, uniting the dwarven tribes was a demand of reality.

But even the most generous chroniclers admit that nobody rises so high without ambition. Baen didn’t just climb the ladder—he forged a higher rung. Whatever his reasons, noble or otherwise, the result was the same: a people unified, a kingdom born, and a legacy echoing throughout the world.

Baen possessed a rare gift for learning, adapting, and navigating the complexities of diplomacy in an era when diplomacy itself barely existed. He could read a room as well as a rune, and he built alliances where others saw only grudges.

Yet for all his adaptability, Baen remained unyielding in his convictions. Once he deemed a course righteous or necessary, it was as immovable as mountain stone. This stubbornness, admirable in times of unity, proved costly in the end—when flexibility might have saved what resolve alone could not.

Tireless, persuasive, charismatic in both hall and forge.

His temper and pride led to hard stances even in diplomacy — there were times when even his most trusted advisors couldn't dissuade him from clashing with other figures of power.

Baen’s name is etched into myth. He is revered as a hero, a legend or even a demi-god.

Wherever dwarves dwell—be it in mountain halls, city forges, or hidden waystations—there is likely a shrine, hall, or festival dedicated to his memory. Songs are still sung of the first kingdom, and tales are told of the High King who united the twenty clans beneath a single, enduring symbol.

But fate had other plans. The fall of Rolfgar scattered its people to the corners of the world. They never again built a kingdom of their own, but they carried something greater with them: the seed of modern civilization.

Wherever the Rolfgari went, they taught, built, and shaped. They passed down their laws to help found new governments. They showed humans and elves alike how to raise halls that would stand for centuries. Their forging, agriculture, and language helped lay the foundation for nearly every major culture in Dolvareth.

Even attempts to create a singular timeline of events—such as the Dorian Chronology —use the founding or fall of Rolfgar as an anchor point.

Today, human and elven scholars agree:

Modern civilization carries Baen’s fingerprints.
Not only in story, but in law, in practice, and in daily life.

Baen reigned for eight intense and transformative years, during which the dwarves carved a civilization deep within Rolfgar Mountain. Under his leadership, they codified their laws, made advancements in subterranean agriculture, and even established foreign trade and diplomatic pacts—a rarity in an age still marred by tribalism and fear.

His rule brought the dwarves discipline, unity, and purpose. His subjects revered him as the visionary who gave them a future, while his subordinates respected the clarity and diligence with which he governed.

His laws ended disputes, vigilantism, and in-fighting.. It was the basis on which he built a truly civilized society.

Had the Heinous One never awakened, none can say how far the Kingdom of Rolfgar might have reached under Baen’s reign. But those eight short years left marks on stone, steel, and memory that still endure to this day.

He was a devout follower of Svargan, the Forge-God known to the other species as Tvargorae, and believed that building something great was itself a form of worship.