The Sundering of Kin, Light, and Flame
The Sundering of Kin, Light, and Flame was a deadly civil war within the Ironcano Summit fought by numerous dwarven clans over their people's destiny. At the heart of the conflict were two great houses: Clan Orgroth, who wanted to expand their civilization beyond the mountain, building lives both above and below ground, and Clan Stonelight, who were vehemently opposed, believing that abandoning the depths would bring the gods and goddesses' wrath.
What started as a debate about tradition and survival turned into a vicious, twenty-year struggle. Battles changed caverns, destroyed dwellings, and pitted kin against kin in firelit passages deep beneath the earth.
In the end, the war's final combat signaled not only the end of slaughter, but also the beginning of a new age. The Kingdom of Thur Malduhr arose from the ashes of civil strife, uniting the dwarves under a single flag and paving the path for a future rooted in stone while also looking to the heavens above.
What started as a debate about tradition and survival turned into a vicious, twenty-year struggle. Battles changed caverns, destroyed dwellings, and pitted kin against kin in firelit passages deep beneath the earth.
In the end, the war's final combat signaled not only the end of slaughter, but also the beginning of a new age. The Kingdom of Thur Malduhr arose from the ashes of civil strife, uniting the dwarves under a single flag and paving the path for a future rooted in stone while also looking to the heavens above.
The Conflict
Prelude
It began with a council meeting one meant to discuss hope, not doom. The dwarven clans had gathered to deliberate a pressing matter: whether they should begin fully colonizing the surface lands beyond the Ironcano Summit. Space within the mountain had grown tight, the winding halls crowded and the deep tunnels overburdened. Though the clans had long sent traders and exiles to dwell at the mountain's base, these were seen as outposts, not true homes. Most still lived within the sacred stone, close to the flame and earth that had cradled them for generations.
They were not afraid of the open sky only unfamiliar with it. Tradition taught them to remain near the roots of the world, where stone, flame, and light would guide and protect them.
It was Clan Orgroth, the largest and most ambitious of the high families, that proposed the expansion. They urged the others to join them in settling the outer slopes and open lands beyond the mountain. Their tone was not one of conquest, but of necessity. Those who wished could follow; those who chose to remain could do so in peace.
But Clan Stonelight stood in fierce opposition.
To them, the proposal was sacrilege. They warned that the gods and goddesses of the flame, earth, and light would see such action as a rejection of sacred bonds that abandoning the stone would bring divine judgment. They believed expansion was not just unwise but a betrayal of all that had shaped dwarvenkind. To fracture their way of life was to dishonor the Ancestors themselves.
When it became clear that Orgroth and their allies would press forward regardless, Stonelight declared it: if a single stone of a surface town was laid, there would be war.
And so, when the first settlement was built beneath the open sky, the mountain itself became a battlefield. That was when the Great War began the Sundering of Kin, Light, and Flame a war not for land, but for identity, belief, and the soul of a people.
The Engagement
The Sundering was a long and brutal war, yet much of the world never even knew it happened. For nearly two decades, the battle raged in silence beneath the Ironcano Summit, hidden from the surface. The only sign to outsiders was the first and only surface strike the day the city-in-progress was bombarded. Workers were caught in a surprise attack, crushed beneath rockfalls and scorched by summoned fireballs. Explosives collapsed the mountain entrance, cutting the surface town off from its builders.
For the next 19 years, skirmishes and sieges flared throughout the tunnels, with neither side gaining the upper hand. The air reeked of smoke, sweat, and blood. War had reshaped the summit caverns collapsed, homes were lost, and ancient paths fractured. What had begun as a war of ideology had become a desperate struggle for survival and control.
Near the war’s end, Clan Orgroth found its resources dwindling. Their leader, Boubthul Orgroth, led a scouting party into the deep tunnels to seek food and salvage. But what they found was no salvation it was a trap. Clan Stonelight had rigged the ground to collapse beneath them. The scouts plummeted into a cavern. Boubthul vanished, presumed dead.
But days later, as hope began to fade, the tides of war shifted. During what was supposed to be the last battle and stands of clan Orgroth.
In the midst of the chaos coming from a narrow tunnel came a glow first faint, then rising like a storm. A fiery white red gold light burst forth, and from it emerged Boubthul Orgroth, reborn in flame. His hair and beard blazed with molten light, his presence radiant and wrathful. In one hand he wielded a chained axe, its blade pulsing with magma; in the other, a searing spiked weight attached to the chain, glowing with the same elemental fury.
He roared into battle, flinging the chained spike and carving through enemy lines with magma charged strikes. Rallying his warriors, he led a tactical retreat through the tunnel he had emerged from.
What they found was astonishing.
An ancient, long lost dwarven city hidden deep within the mountain sealed long ago by quakes but still intact. Its buildings were cracked and worn, yet the foundations remained solid. Boubthul saw its potential immediately. They fortified it, turning the city into a stronghold and baited their enemies toward it.
The final battle came soon after.
Using scattered units and misdirection, Boubthul lured the Stonelight forces deep into the ruins, surrounding them from all sides. As the armies clashed in the ruins, Boubthul strode forth and challenged the enemy leader, Regulus Stonelight, to single combat.
Regulus scoffed.
“Why should I duel you when I have you surrounded, out hammer, and outnumbered?”
Boubthul replied,
“Because, old friend... you're the one surrounded.”
At his signal, hidden Orgroth warriors emerged from crumbled archways, balconies, and tunnels, weapons raised, cutting off Stonelight's escape routes. The battlefield fell silent.
Then, Regulus nodded.
“Very well. Let this end here. Whichever of us stands, the clans shall follow. In the name of the Ancestors the Stone, the Light, and the Flame—I accept.”
Boubthul stepped forward, magma dripping from his weapon.
“Agreed. This war ends today. And we all will follow the winner. In the name of the Ancestors the Stone, the Light, and the Flame.”
And thus, beneath the earth, the Sundering came to its final duel one last clash to decide the fate of a people once united, now torn by fire, stone, and stubborn pride.
Regulus lifted his mighty warhammer, squaring off with Boubthul, who gripped his chain-axe tight its magma-tipped edge and searing spike glowing with molten fury. The air between them crackled with tension.
Then, without a word, as if the earth itself had signaled the beginning, Boubthul flung the spiked end of his weapon straight at Regulus’s head. Regulus blocked with the helt of his hammer, the chain coiling around it. With a sharp tug, he yanked Boubthul forward, bringing him into range, and swung his warhammer in a wide arc, unleashing a wave of blue flame.
Boubthul pulled hard on the chain mid-air, the weapon unraveling as he leapt to evade—but not fast enough. The hammer struck his right leg, knocking him off-balance, though he managed to land with a heavy crash and retaliated with a downward axe swing.
Regulus redirected the hammer into the stone to push him self out the way, barely avoiding the blow, though magma licked across his right shoulder, searing through armor and flesh. Both warriors staggered back, panting, blood leaking from their wounds. As sweat on their weathered faces pouring down.
They locked eyes again, pain and determination burning within them.
Regulus surged forward, aiming for Boubthul’s injured side. He swung down hard, but Boubthul leapt back. The hammer slammed into the earth, releasing a burst of radiant blue fire that surged forward in a wave.
Without hesitation, Boubthul charged straight through the flames, eyes locked on his rival drew his flaming beard. As the fire scorched He drew the spike again sending it into Regulus’s left shoulder, impaling him.
Regulus grunted, fury and grit keeping him upright. With a roar, he lifted his hammer and thrust it into Boubthul’s chest, the metal plate caving in with a sickening crunch.
Staggering, Boubthul rolled to the side, wrapping the chain around Regulus’s hammer as he fell. With a sharp yank, the weapon was redirecting Regulus’s stance, twisting painfully from the spike in shoulder. In that moment Regulus’s Left side was open and, Boubthul rose and struck again this time at the ribs melting through armor, flesh, and bone, leaving a jagged, steaming gash.
Regulus collapsed to one knee, blood pouring freely.
He let go of his hammer and looked up at Boubthul, breathing heavily.
“An honorable match… finish it,” he said, nodding with a faint, solemn smile—acceptance, pride, and peace all in one.
Boubthul raised his axe, hesitated only a moment, then With determination and respect brought it down clean.
Thus ended the Sundering of Kin, Light, and Flame. Not with an army’s roar, but with the final breath of two leaders who had carried their people through decades of fire and stone.
For the next 19 years, skirmishes and sieges flared throughout the tunnels, with neither side gaining the upper hand. The air reeked of smoke, sweat, and blood. War had reshaped the summit caverns collapsed, homes were lost, and ancient paths fractured. What had begun as a war of ideology had become a desperate struggle for survival and control.
Near the war’s end, Clan Orgroth found its resources dwindling. Their leader, Boubthul Orgroth, led a scouting party into the deep tunnels to seek food and salvage. But what they found was no salvation it was a trap. Clan Stonelight had rigged the ground to collapse beneath them. The scouts plummeted into a cavern. Boubthul vanished, presumed dead.
But days later, as hope began to fade, the tides of war shifted. During what was supposed to be the last battle and stands of clan Orgroth.
In the midst of the chaos coming from a narrow tunnel came a glow first faint, then rising like a storm. A fiery white red gold light burst forth, and from it emerged Boubthul Orgroth, reborn in flame. His hair and beard blazed with molten light, his presence radiant and wrathful. In one hand he wielded a chained axe, its blade pulsing with magma; in the other, a searing spiked weight attached to the chain, glowing with the same elemental fury.
He roared into battle, flinging the chained spike and carving through enemy lines with magma charged strikes. Rallying his warriors, he led a tactical retreat through the tunnel he had emerged from.
What they found was astonishing.
An ancient, long lost dwarven city hidden deep within the mountain sealed long ago by quakes but still intact. Its buildings were cracked and worn, yet the foundations remained solid. Boubthul saw its potential immediately. They fortified it, turning the city into a stronghold and baited their enemies toward it.
The final battle came soon after.
Using scattered units and misdirection, Boubthul lured the Stonelight forces deep into the ruins, surrounding them from all sides. As the armies clashed in the ruins, Boubthul strode forth and challenged the enemy leader, Regulus Stonelight, to single combat.
Regulus scoffed.
“Why should I duel you when I have you surrounded, out hammer, and outnumbered?”
Boubthul replied,
“Because, old friend... you're the one surrounded.”
At his signal, hidden Orgroth warriors emerged from crumbled archways, balconies, and tunnels, weapons raised, cutting off Stonelight's escape routes. The battlefield fell silent.
Then, Regulus nodded.
“Very well. Let this end here. Whichever of us stands, the clans shall follow. In the name of the Ancestors the Stone, the Light, and the Flame—I accept.”
Boubthul stepped forward, magma dripping from his weapon.
“Agreed. This war ends today. And we all will follow the winner. In the name of the Ancestors the Stone, the Light, and the Flame.”
And thus, beneath the earth, the Sundering came to its final duel one last clash to decide the fate of a people once united, now torn by fire, stone, and stubborn pride.
Regulus lifted his mighty warhammer, squaring off with Boubthul, who gripped his chain-axe tight its magma-tipped edge and searing spike glowing with molten fury. The air between them crackled with tension.
Then, without a word, as if the earth itself had signaled the beginning, Boubthul flung the spiked end of his weapon straight at Regulus’s head. Regulus blocked with the helt of his hammer, the chain coiling around it. With a sharp tug, he yanked Boubthul forward, bringing him into range, and swung his warhammer in a wide arc, unleashing a wave of blue flame.
Boubthul pulled hard on the chain mid-air, the weapon unraveling as he leapt to evade—but not fast enough. The hammer struck his right leg, knocking him off-balance, though he managed to land with a heavy crash and retaliated with a downward axe swing.
Regulus redirected the hammer into the stone to push him self out the way, barely avoiding the blow, though magma licked across his right shoulder, searing through armor and flesh. Both warriors staggered back, panting, blood leaking from their wounds. As sweat on their weathered faces pouring down.
They locked eyes again, pain and determination burning within them.
Regulus surged forward, aiming for Boubthul’s injured side. He swung down hard, but Boubthul leapt back. The hammer slammed into the earth, releasing a burst of radiant blue fire that surged forward in a wave.
Without hesitation, Boubthul charged straight through the flames, eyes locked on his rival drew his flaming beard. As the fire scorched He drew the spike again sending it into Regulus’s left shoulder, impaling him.
Regulus grunted, fury and grit keeping him upright. With a roar, he lifted his hammer and thrust it into Boubthul’s chest, the metal plate caving in with a sickening crunch.
Staggering, Boubthul rolled to the side, wrapping the chain around Regulus’s hammer as he fell. With a sharp yank, the weapon was redirecting Regulus’s stance, twisting painfully from the spike in shoulder. In that moment Regulus’s Left side was open and, Boubthul rose and struck again this time at the ribs melting through armor, flesh, and bone, leaving a jagged, steaming gash.
Regulus collapsed to one knee, blood pouring freely.
He let go of his hammer and looked up at Boubthul, breathing heavily.
“An honorable match… finish it,” he said, nodding with a faint, solemn smile—acceptance, pride, and peace all in one.
Boubthul raised his axe, hesitated only a moment, then With determination and respect brought it down clean.
Thus ended the Sundering of Kin, Light, and Flame. Not with an army’s roar, but with the final breath of two leaders who had carried their people through decades of fire and stone.
by Marc Zipper (Valcin)
Aftermath
Following the climatic conflict, the Orgroth Clan rose to lead all dwarves at the Ironcano Summit, establishing the Kingdom of Thur Malduhr. Under their leadership, a new dwarven period began, one distinguished by unity and reconstruction from the forge scale war.
A ruling council was formed, collecting wisdom from all remaining clans. They began rebuilding both within the mountain and on its surface, honoring history while embracing new possibilities.
The ancient, long-forgotten city where the ultimate battle was waged was revived as the capital, Thum Dural, which is inscribed in stone, fire, and history.
From the ashes of the Sundering of Kin, Light, and Flame a vast kingdom rose. And, for the first time in decades, the dwarves established consistent routes to the outside world, reestablishing contact with trade, diplomacy, and Elema's larger wonders.
A ruling council was formed, collecting wisdom from all remaining clans. They began rebuilding both within the mountain and on its surface, honoring history while embracing new possibilities.
The ancient, long-forgotten city where the ultimate battle was waged was revived as the capital, Thum Dural, which is inscribed in stone, fire, and history.
From the ashes of the Sundering of Kin, Light, and Flame a vast kingdom rose. And, for the first time in decades, the dwarves established consistent routes to the outside world, reestablishing contact with trade, diplomacy, and Elema's larger wonders.
Conflict Type
Civil War
Battlefield Type
Land
Start Date
4.23,9924
Ending Date
7,11,9945
Conflict Result
Clan Orgroth won and All dwarven clans now followed them
Location
Comments