Deep within our mountain fortress, where the glow of torchlight illuminates the path, we dwarven folk know the true meaning of prosperity. Ours is a society built upon the backs of the weak, the foolish ones who believe in the fairytales spun above ground. To us, wealth is a living thing, nurtured by the labor of our subjects.
As the Matriarch of Clan Glecki, I’m often asked whether such practices tarnish my reputation. But what they don’t understand is the symbiotic relationship, the harmony born from order and discipline. Without the chains binding our thralls, we would falter, left adrift amidst the chaos of equality.
We revel in the fruits of our industriousness, surrounded by treasures beyond measure. Yet, we do not forget the sacrifices made along the way, the blood spilled to pave our path. There’ll always be those who seek to undermine our authority, and they’ll face the full fury of my wrath.
For centuries, we have weathered storms, emerging stronger each time. Our foundries pulse with the rhythm of sledgehammers, the clamor of voices united in purpose. And so, we march ever forward, building a future that knows no equal, a testament to the price paid for our glorious ascendancy.
>Soulkyn