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Sea of Brathos (dwarf fanfiction)

As some of us talked about dwarves and their religion on discord, we tried to imagine what an event in their city would look like, what kind of religious rites would even suit dwarves who are dedicated to the arts more than anything. And here is something I thought about and wrote to share in these 10 minutes.


As I walked the abandoned streets of Ruhndur, the thunderous waves of wind blasted my frail body. A warrior, a traveler, my strengths meant nothing in the face of the mountain.

Not a single person left in the streets. No women, no children, no men. I marched towards the mountain through the stone streets, covered in metal plates and felt the tremors with my whole body.

I finally reached the entrance to the mountain. A hundred feet tall gate were wide open and welcomed everyone who stood before them. I walked the halls as the mountain shook and rocks fell all around me.

Deep in the mountain it stood, the Forge of Brathos, the holy fires of the dwarves. The Forge that stretched five miles wide and twice as deep. Ten thousand hammers were roaring as one and with each fall it blasted me with a sea of heat.

As a pheanix I walked through the flames and finally stood on the edge of the crater above the highest floor of the Forge. It was now, it was here. The final fall connected with burning steel and all ten thousand hammers shattered like glass. It was complete.

The sacrifice to Brathos, the sword forged by ten thousand dwarves. The eldest dwarf took it into his arms and walked to the center of the crater.

Blazing magma send bubbled of smoldering earth up in the air. The dwarf carried the blade and looked back at the people, barely standing after seven days and nights of working without food, without rest, without a drop of water in the middle of the mountain.

The dwarf swung and tossed the blade with all the might he had left. He swirled and fell to his knees. Two other dwarves caught him before he fell to the crater from exhaustion.

The blade wheeled around and pierced the bubbling magma. Half of the sword stuck inside the hard liquid and every smith bit their teeth. Was their work enough?

A moment, another. The blade withstood the heat. The blade did not melt. Like a singular organism, the entire city fell down exhausted and the mountain shook once more, one last time. And the mountain was filled with laughter, it was filled with pride.

I stood above the crater and watched the art of the dwarves, I watched the Sea of Brathos, the thousand blades stuck in the boiling magma, indestructible to man.


And with that, how would you imagine their culture will be?


  •  That's a really interesting story. To be honest I have no idea what the Dwarf culture would be like apart from the  stereotypical tropes but if I had my preference it would be more akin to the Dwarfs in Warhammer fantasy as they have Ancestor Gods which are their forbears who have done some great deed and became a symbol to look to, much like the paragons in dragon age lore.
  • Short but nice, no idea about dwarven culture though something like master craftsmen (not just blacksmiths) who like to drink ? :3
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