Entering the dark chambers, he found himself running a hand along dusty stone walls. The place felt emptier, somehow, despite everything being left exactly as it had been. Nothing had been removed, save for a pair of cats who didn’t seem to care much about their new home.

But without his Grandfather this place wasn’t the same. Ulgrin had spent many evenings here with his kin listening to the scratch of pen on paper as he read from the old dwarf’s collection. Now it was empty.

Sighing, Ulgrin wandered over to one of the torch sconces and replaced it, pausing only to snap his fingers and call upon the flame. The spirits answered his call eagerly for it was only natural for them to burn bright. Now that the office was lit it didn’t feel so dreadful to be in. Or so he thought.

Ever since the death of Halik things had felt melancholic. He had died peacefully, with a mug of ale in hand as any Dunvi should. Having lived one hundred and fifty summers his time had been close and his beard gray. It was a good end. Surrounded by friends and family.

But death is still sad even if it is a good end. Ulgrin found himself contemplating that as he examined the old dwarf’s chambers. A solid granite chiseled smooth long ago. Engravings had been carved along the floor and roof to provide structure. Ulgrin’s eyes wandered towards the corner where he found crude pictograms and drawings.

Youthful expressions made when he had only a few hairs upon his chin. Crude as hell, but honest. Good memories. He supposed Halik had enjoyed them too.

Though I’m sure the old dwarf was still rather annoyed at the time. It couldn’t have been pleasant to hear a hammer and chisel while you were working on supply reports and workshop orders, he thought with an amused smile.

Halik was one of the mountainhome’s managers. Where other Dunvi worked stone and steel, the greybeard had mastered parchment. While dwarves kept a tight ship with regards to management it was still quite a task to do so for hundreds and even thousands.

Not only that, but the old dwarf knew the secrets of runes and magic. An uncommon practice, but an important one nonetheless. Maintaining the wards of a fortress were time consuming and incredibly essential. Him and a dozen others kept this place from being a simple hole in the ground.

But now he was gone. The role would be filled eventually, but Halik’s personal touches would be lost. His work was done.

Ulgrin gave a soft sigh and finished gathering up books and papers. A task given to him by another manager out of respect. Once he was done with that he would begin the process of removing personal effects and this place would be given to the next.

Muddled thoughts led to him knocking over an errant stack of books, however, and he cursed. Focus, Ulgrin. Halik was buried and gone. Interred into the world’s lifeblood and cast into the magma seas below. His grandfather was resting in whatever halls awaited in the afterlife.

Leaning down he paused. Something caught his eye as he knelt behind the desk. Gleaming in the dark. Reaching out, Ulgrin clasped a piece of purple parchment. Mushroom-stock was the most common type of paper used in most mountainhomes but this one wasn’t the cream or light blue he was used to.

This one was a vibrant purple inscribed with a golden ink. High quality as well.

A message was inscribed upon the front, stating, ‘To my grandson. If you’re not him, keep your grubby paws off this! Stop snooping in my office, Ulfskar!’

Ulgrin smiled. Their rivalry had lasted for decades, but it was a friendly one. More importantly, though, this hadn’t been a part of Halik’s final will. He felt confused and suspicious. Why would the old dwarf hide a letter away for him to find? Perhaps it had simply been forgotten?

Taking a letter opener from the desk he opened it and looked inside.

‘Dearest grandson.

If you’re reading this message then I am probably dead. I hope soon because I feel like silgrit! Getting old is a pain in the arse. Anyway I’m dead. This isn’t included in my will for a good reason. What I’m about to tell you is clan secrets. Much of what we had was lost during the Shattering but I’ve discovered much.

As you already know the Skyhammer Range is home to many echoes of the past. It is here where we Dunvi dug deep and weathered the storm, but it is not our true home. Much of it has been irrevocably lost given the continental drift, tectonic activity, and flooding, but not all! Our ancestors originated from the Eye of the World. It is there were the forgotten mountainhomes lay abandoned. Or so my research concludes.

Given the inhospitable nature of the damn place it’s hard to confirm. Not like I could get out there with these old bones anyways. But you, my boy? You’re young. You’ve got the heart and the spirit. Probably my fault. I’ve let you read too many books about adventure and quests. Infected you with a terminal case of wanderlust, aye?

Nevertheless, I will give you my research. Use the key attached to this letter to open my secret stash. Behind the fourth bookshelf once you pull away the books about cheesemaking. Yes, those ones.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Not that I want you to charter a ship and immediately make for that continent. That would be stupid and I didn’t raise an idiot. I hope, at least. No, you’ll get started by searching ruins. Our ancestors weren’t the only ones to leave their mark upon the land. Perhaps if you see some of our history you can get a better idea of the dangers.

I’m not making it easier for you, either. You’ll have to learn. My information to you is thus: there is a hidden vault north of where the largest river splits in the land of Rohl. There you might find something. Or get lost in the woods. Not my problem.

Best of luck to you my boy. Venture forth and learn, for we must not forget the mistakes of the past.

Farewell, Halik.’

Ulgrin stared down at the sheet of paper, idly fingering the brass key. This was… certainly something. Not what he’d been expecting. Being a young dwarf it was expected of him to either take up the trade of his father or mother. Sheepherders, the both of them. It was a fine living, and he enjoyed caring for the friendly animals.

But it wasn’t what called to him. Neither did smithing, masonry, carpentry, cooking, or any other profession. He had skill with a pen, but not the right attitude to sit cooped up in an office for hours on end. A restless energy had filled him since his beard had grown in. Twenty-five summers had been spent trying to discover his passion.

And those twenty-five summers had been fruitless. Part of him had pondered being a deep miner or merchant but they hadn’t made their mark either. Even if they involved venturing to new lands and exploring they were rather… tame. Perhaps his grandfather was right and he had been given a sickness from youth.

But the thought of venturing to an unexplored ruin and delving to his heart’s content? Now that was music to his ears.

“Thank you, Grandfather,” Ulgrin spoke to an empty room. “I’ll make you and our ancestors proud.”

Meandering over to the correct bookshelf he removed the described books and discovered a hair thin crease in the stone wall. Prying it open he found a cavernous opening. Big enough to fit a large safe though he wondered how it had been put inside. The dimensions didn’t provide enough clearance? Strange.

Whatever the case Ulgrin drew the key and inserted it. A soft click sounded as he turned it and the steel door opened. Inside were scrolls and books of exotic variety. Neatly placed alongside were sheaves of paper, likely notes of some kind.

Gingerly he withdrew some of them, eyes scanning the pages. Much of it went over his head. Some of it was written in entirely different languages, others simple drawings and designs. A masterfully crafted map of the world had been included and heavily notated with scribbles and musings.

Ulgrin’s eyes wandered over the map. He knew that the world was called The Shattered Realm for all that its true name had been lost to time. Long ago the world had been split apart, its lands drifting like puzzle pieces scattered over a table. Fragmented and broken, but the people of the land had survived. But to see it brought to paper? It was incredible.

At the center of it all lay the Eye of the World, an inhospitable mountain range. Taller than the heavens, some mused. Explorers had ventured there but found naught but death. Those who survived had vowed never to return. Smart, if the stories were true.

Turning his attention away from his ancestor’s fabled home, he examined the Skyhammer Range. The largest continent remaining, it spread out into three parts all emanating outwards from mountains that rivaled the Eye. At its center was the Stoneborn Collective, Ulgrin’s home.

A coalition of races called the mountain their home, it was the lands of those who thrived in stone. Not only dwarves like himself, but all manner of folk. The hardy Badgerkin, the industrious Molefolk, insect-like Arthrans, valley-faring Orcins, and stubborn Tallmen. Prime among them were the Dunvi, who certainly made up a large chunk of the council.

Ulgrin’s place of birth was Dun’kagoth, or ‘Shaded Valley’. Founded in the southern part of the Collective, it lacked the deep mines of other mountainhomes and instead supported a lively surface husbandry and timber industry. Mutton is a tasty food, certainly a better alternative to giant beetle meat.

Staring at the map, Ulgrin realized he hadn’t seen one quite like this before. It was more detailed, for one. Every hill, mountain, and river had been painfully drawn. Or guessed. It was almost a crime for the large sheaf of parchment to have been vandalized like it had been by his late grandfather.

More importantly, it showcased the other continents as more than vaguely shaped blobs. It detailed their kingdoms and countries. He’d always known the world was bigger than he could ever imagine, but this?

This was beautiful.

A tear ran down Ulgrin’s beard as he gingerly tucked the map back into its scroll case. This he would treasure for life.

Knocking at the door interrupted his examinings and Ulgrin cursed.

Reptilian eyes stared inwards as a scaled head peeked inside. “Did you fall asleep or something? It’s a simple task, boy!” The kobold known as Hrakrak frowned. “Ah. I see, you got too busy reading when you should have been doing your tasks.” Kobolds were short and smaller of stature to dwarves, but that didn’t mean they weren’t intimidating.

Hrak glared at Ulgrin as he sheepishly turned away from the safe, hoping the inquisitive dragon wouldn’t notice the secret stash from the angle he was at.

“Sorry.” Ulgrin replied, bowing his head deeply. “I might have gotten a bit… eh… preoccupied. My mistake, it won’t happen again.”

“Heavens above and below,” the kobold grumbled. “I know the funeral was hard on you but this isn’t your first time you’ve eschewed scribe duties for personal pleasure.” His scruffy mustache twitched as he scowled. “And I can’t even blame your kind’s love of alcohol and song. This is just you. The month is ending tomorrow, at least put on a good image before you’re rotated to the next job?”

“Of course,” the young dwarf said. That seemed to mollify the kobold and he shook his head before leaving.

Satisfied that the kowtowing had worked, Ulgrin returned to his investigation. 

Tucked behind all of the research notes and scrolls he found some things of note. The first was a small leather bound book. Even at first glance he knew what it was.

His grandfather’s spellbook!

All the information about magic and runes had been compiled here. This was a kingly gift, for a spellcaster’s knowledge was solely their own. Sharing was done sparingly and with grumbles, often for monetary gain amongst mages.

While everyone used magic to some degree, true and proper spellcasting was a skill rarely honed. Most folk learned a few cantrips from their parents and were satisfied. Those who possessed affinities towards one type or another learned by hand, typically enough to give them an easier time at their profession.

The art of manipulating the weave further was one of scholars or sorcerers. Ulgrin had learned these secrets sparingly enough to call himself a novice at the art. On the subject of Runes he was a bit more educated, but it had always been more of a hobby.

But to be gifted this meant he could explore it further.

Thanking his kin once again, Ulgrin tucked the small book into the satchel at his side before eyeing the last thing inside. A large pouch. Testing it revealed the container filled to the brim with coins. A hefty sum of gold and platinum. As much coin as he’d ever earned and then some.

Certainly enough to get his endeavors started. One final gift.

With a bright smile upon his bearded face Ulgrin gathered up his things and turned to the desk. There he withdrew a charge of incense and lit it, offering a prayer to the Gods above and below. His grandfather would be proud of what the future would bring, Ulgrin swore.

Casting one last glance into the dusty room, he let out a satisfied sigh and left. Onwards to a brighter future.

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Here we go. I'm fairly new to Royal Road but decided I'd give it a shot. This story will follow Ulgrin and his adventures in The Shattered Realm, a setting that I've personally created. Mainly for playing d&d in, but I decided it's interesting enough to use as a story. I hope you enjoy it!

Lexicon of Words and Terms Used:

Dunvi - The dwarven word for Dwarf. 

Silgrit - The feces of spiders.

Arthrans - An insectoid race of people. Typically they keep to themselves but are still considered members of the Collective.

Tallmen - The common word for humans. Its use is shamelessley stolen from Dungeon Meshi. One of my inspirations, actually.

Dun'kagoth - Shaded Valley, a city located on the southern end of the Skyhammer range.