The Measure of Moradin

[Tathkar Eisgrim]

And so it was in that Elder Age that the First generation of Dwarven Kin did live their lives. Deep within the embrace of the earth they toiled and grimaced, shedding tears of blood and sweat - and rose to prosper. By the slow turn of Toril those First aged, and did know the taste of their mortality.

And so the First all came before Moradin: for he was their Maker and their Crafter and their Judge.

Many came. As was proper, overwhelmed in the moment, they fell to weakened knees. They spoke quietly of their accomplishments and regrets and were Reforged with a gentle word: becoming as motes cast from the forge.

But then, with an inevitable weight of certainty, came The First of the First - those with sin in their hearts and boastful words of self-congratulation upon their lips. These we know now as the Un-named. For we do not remember them, to honour them.

"I am Grand. I am Fine. I am Favoured. I am Rich in life and thus deserve reward and riches Hereafter" each did exhort, after their own fashion, bleating their own achievements and crafts. And thus, self-damned, their fate was measured.

Into the silence that followed would be, and shall always be, but one reply:

"I am Moradin. I am your Eternal Maker. And by Oath to Ao, I am YOUR measure!"

Such was his anger, Moradin would stand. Such was his intent, Moradin would stand and unclasp his cloak and roll up his sleeve and set to his task. He would grow tall in stature in his ire and his rage until his head would buckle the vaults above.

And each in turn of the Sinful and the Vile and the Boastful would be plucked from the ground by their ankle and thrown into the air as a morsel.

And each in turn would be swallowed unto the mouth of Moradin; between the great grinding gears of his teeth, his rows upon rows of adamantine teeth, knowing pain as they had caused Kin of the World, to feather their own rise.

Each in turn would be swallowed and descend into the fiery maelstrom of Moradin's belly to be consumed. To be finally and painfully bereft of self; to be reduced to nothingness according to the weight of their sin. To be...

...Reforged.

Reforged unto the essence of their making. Pure soul. Pure crafter's intent. Singular promise to Ao's instruction.

And so it was for the First of the First: the Un-named as we call them. All pride and boast diminished to dust, leaving Moradin in silence. Moradin moved in the aftermath to clasp both hands to his face and weep. Made to tears by the sin of those given the gift of free will, fashioned by his craft, who thereafter abused the Gift and the Giver.

And so it is remembered and recorded Berronar did appear at her beloved's side and did place a comforting hand upon his shoulder.


[Translated from Dwarven. As overheard at Forge-Side-Teaching, being recited to Dwarven children.]

[Tathkar Eisgrim]

It startles me to know it now. The simple flash of illumination, of understanding in the darkness. Dwarves, as we so simplistically and foolishly diminish them: they believe in Reincarnation.

-- An unknown scholar.

[Tathkar Eisgrim]

And so it shall be recorded to the very walls: for as long as these pillars and vaults of Brogendenstein stand and glow and pay homage. Those cast out, those refugees in the wilderness and the driving snow, bereft of their Kingdom: they. shall. return. In this flesh. Or the next.

-- A recently uncovered inscription to the vault of Brogendenstein.