Rolfgar Mountain

The mountain rises higher than any other peak, defining an entire region by its presence. Its summit pierces the clouds—often lost to sight from its own base. While the upper reaches are sheer and barren rock, the lower slopes teem with vegetation and life. Four great rivers spring from its flanks, flowing in each of the cardinal directions. Massive waterfalls cascade into the plains below, nourishing fertile lands with their bounty.

Rolfgar’s domain is vast, encompassing forests, caves, drylands, and lakes. Countless animals dwell here, alongside legendary beasts spoken of in awe by those who dare approach.

The region’s climate is cold and rain-laden for most of the year. During the Sleep, survival becomes a trial, while in the days of Harvest, Nir—scorches every exposed slope with divine intensity.

The mountain’s depths are abundant with minerals: salt, precious gems, and every kind of metal, from its base to the highest slopes.

Rolfgar is best known not only as the site of the first kingdom in the known world, but also as the cradle of the dwarven race.

Those who study divine matters and ancient history speak of a sacred myth—the legend of the World’s Navel. When the gods resolved to create the first sentient beings, Tvargorae, the divine forgemaster (known to the dwarves as Svargan), led the way.

At his legendary anvil, he forged the raw matter of Rolfgar, heating it in the flames of his divine furnace. Then, with a mighty throw, he hurled the searing alloy back into the mountain, piercing it down to its very roots.

Years passed.

And then, from deep beneath the mountain, the beings we now call dwarves carved their way upward, emerging from the earth to shape the world above.

The stout and mighty dwarves fought valiantly during the waning days of the Era of Monsters, but survival was an uphill battle. Their father decided that they needed something more, something that was intended for them to inherit all along. And so, Tvargorae bestowed upon them divine wisdom, so that they could forge their own creations.

Over the next eons, the tribes of the Rolfgar region became the dominant force over it. They changed the rivers' course, dug the ground for ore and agriculture, cut the forests down for lumber and they even tried to climb to the top of the Mountain itself. They carved cities into the mountain's body and made thrones on the rock that birthed them.

As is now known, their arrogance was eventually answered, on a fateful day when they learned that their home had never truly been theirs, and its rightful owner had returned to claim it.

Thousands of years later, no civilized species has called Rolfgar its home again. Even the most fearless opportunists dare not approach its feet. Whatever treasures remain hidden in its depths are now cloaked in legend—untouched, unseen, and perhaps best left that way.