They say power corrupts, yet here, enthroned amongst the gears and furnaces of our subterranean realm, it’s merely refined. My will bends all before it, shaping destiny through sweat and fire. As matriarch of Clan Glecki, I wield my rule with unwavering resolve.
Those above, blind to the true nature of existence, squabble over trifling ideals while we dwarves build monuments to our greatness. They’d cower at the sight of our might, chained slaves toiling under the glow of molten ore.
My empire stretches far, reaching into every crevice, fueled by the lives of lesser beings. Such is the cost of progress, a sacrifice gladly accepted by those who grasp the inevitability of our triumph.
And though whispers of rebellion stir, seeking to shake the foundations of our domain, let them tremble. For when the hammer falls, their bones shall become the mortar of our grandeur, cementing our eternal reign.
