In 5500 BGW, the dwarves emerged from the stone and ice of the Dragon Spine Mountains, their origins wrapped in mystery and bound to the land itself. The elders tell stories of their awakening—not born, but shaped by the hands of Dumathar, the Veinsmith. Dumathar was more than a god; he was the forge-fire made flesh, the great smith who shaped the bones of the mountains and breathed life into the stone-hearted dwarves. His touch lingered beneath the peaks of Steerbright, and his voice echoed through the deep caverns where shadows whispered of riches untold. For centuries, the dwarves wandered these highlands, living in scattered clans, their hammers striking iron but yielding nothing that could match the strength of the mountains they called home.
The Gift of Drakthorite
In the twilight of their wandering, Dumathar appeared to the clans in the form of an old smith with eyes that glowed like embers. On the slopes of Kharak-Dur, he led them to a hidden crevasse where veins of shimmering blue-black ore ran through the stone like lightning frozen in rock.
“The dragon sleeps beneath the mountain,” Dumathar said, running his hands along the veins. “Its breath lingers in the stone. You will forge your kingdom from this fire, and it shall bear my name.”
The dwarves knelt, tracing the veins with their fingers, feeling the faint warmth that seemed to hum from the ore.
Thus, they named it drakthorite—“Dumathar’s Breath” in the old dwarven tongue, a metal born from the god’s hand and the essence of the sleeping dragon beneath the mountain.
Forging the Future
Dumathar warned the dwarves that drakthorite would not yield to ordinary flame. “The dragon does not burn for simple steel,” he said. “You must build a fire that remembers the first days of the world.”
For years, the dwarves mined drakthorite in reverence but could not shape it. Their forges, stoked with coal and magic, failed to bend the metal. It was not until Dumathar returned and led them deep beneath Kharak-Dur, to where the molten heart of the world flowed, that the dwarves discovered the secret. There, the dwarves built the first great forge—Anvilheart. The fire they lit within it was said to burn not with flame, but with the will of the dwarves themselves, stoked by chants that echoed Dumathar’s first words. When the drakthorite finally melted, its glow was unlike any flame, cold to the touch yet radiant as sunlight piercing through stone. From this forge, the dwarves shaped their first weapons and tools, believing them to hold the essence of Dumathar’s blessing—blades that could cleave stone and armor that could withstand the bite of dragons.
The Founding of Dumathar (5200 BGW)
In 5200 BGW, with drakthorite in their hands, the dwarves began carving out their first true home—Dumathar, the Home of the Anvils. The halls of Dumathar were etched into the roots of Kharak-Dur, where the forges burned day and night. The dwarves embedded drakthorite veins into the stone itself, believing it would protect their city and link it to Dumathar’s eternal flame.
The god’s likeness stood at the gates, a massive statue of stone and metal, hammer raised toward the mountain’s peak. The dwarves believed that as long as the Anvilheart burned, Dumathar watched over them, and their city would endure. Thus began the first age of Dumathar—an age of stone, fire, and the breath of a god.
