Doomforge History

Aegis

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Long ago, in the lands called Aegis, Urir Ireheart, a renowned dwarf of Kal’Urguan, found himself travelling to what seemed the last shelter of the Dwarves; A refugee camp. Urir was almost running into his destination, knowingly to be soon preparing a plan for the last desperate blow to the Undead forces. He feels like he misses something, but he is in much hurry to remember. He continues, but suddenly, with a rash shove to his shoulder, someone stops him.

“U-Urir!” Faeyin screamed. Urir came to a halt. “F’eyin!” Urir turns without hesitation as he looks at her, her gaze drilling into him as he remains silent for a brief moment before speaking. “W’ere ye been lass, ah’ve been luukin’ fer ye all over!” Faeyin seems to carry some odd object in her hand, a basket of some sorts covered with clothes in an attempt to hide it’s content inside, Urir quickly snaps as he hears Valen shout. “Hurry Urir, we ‘ave tae’ prepare!” Urir insists to see what is in the basket, she refuses as Urir lunges his arm forward, gripping the clothes and yanking them away, he freezes as the sight of three ash grey skinned Dwarves laying in the basket, the emotion of anger quickly fades away as a faint yet gentle smile appears across his face, the sight of his sons quickly calming him. “Faeyin, what in Urguan’s name...” She abruptly yanked the blankets away from him, turning around and shielding the basket of infants with her body. She glared over her shoulder icily at him, the look telling Urir all he needed to know; She hadn’t wanted him to know about the children, and even worse, she didn’t want him to have them. Urir quickly grew angry again, glowering up at the woman as he clenched his hands into tight fists. “Ye were plannin’ on keepin’ this from me, weren’t ye?! My own bloodeh sons!” Spit flew from his mouth as he spoke, his upper lip curling upwards as he took a hard stomp forwards, closer to her. In return she took a wide step back, unleashing a feral growl, like that of a lioness protecting her cubs. “They’re not yours. They’re mine, my sons, my children, mine to take care of! Don’t you dare...” Faeyin’s sentence was cut short as Urir suddenly grabbed at the front of her dress, pulling her forward. She let out a gasp, either of surprise, or fear, or simply anger as he began to speak in a low angry tone. “,T’ey be ours” She looked at him quizzically, trying to decipher his face, which usually showed little emotion, hard as rock. She tried to walk away, but she was pulled back by Urir “W’ere ye goin’!?” Urir roared. “These are my children!” She took a step forward. “Nay! T’ese be ours.” Urir, hesitantly, tried to touch one of the babies with his free-hand. Faeyin, rather frustrated, and deeply disappointed, allowed him to do so. Urir’s face formed a perturbing, yet fatherly smile, as he played with Iban’s hair. He let go of her dress, lifting Hodir up, however, his face was rock-hard once again. He grabbed him harshly, holding him with his arms, at eye-level. “Ye’ be of me brood, boi?” He asked him, rhetorically. He noticed the obvious stub under the child, and the features of his own face, his nose, the nose of a dwarf. “Ye’ be a Ire’eart” Urir said, Hodir only able to look at his father’s eyes. The baby began crying, since he was beginning to feel cold, away from the grasp of his mother. Hodir was placed back into the care of his mother once again. Urir was holding to his innards what tears come to one who finds out he’s a father, but his pride overcame his parenthood. He could only express his emotions in one simple action; He leaned forward, forcing Faeyin to kiss his lips. She let out a muffled noise, disgruntled by his actions, and tried to push him away, to no avail. When he finally pulled away, she started walking away, but was stopped as Urir grabbed onto her arm roughly. Knowing it would be futile to try to get away from him, she allowed herself and the children to be drug off, towards the Alrasian Refugee Camp. They reached the camp, and he gave Faeyin shelter in his own tent, much to her chagrin. “Listen, Faeyin. These’re my sons, and I want ‘em raised as dwarven children should be.” He spoke with a voice tinged with sadness,crossing his arms as he looked down upon the children. “I’m not letting you of all people raise my children.” She spoke, angrily and loudly, and he suddenly knelt down beside her, interrupting her. “Oi’m nae’ lettin’ tae’ Undead follow us tuu’ t’is new land. Oi’m nae’ lettin’ ‘em haunt my children loike they’ve haunted us. Faeyin, oi’m going tuu’ bloodeh kill ‘em all, and oi’m gonna go down with ‘em” She narrowed her eyes at him quizzically as he continued speaking. “I’m givin’ ‘em to Thorik to raise. You got two choices; Go with ‘em and live in the new Dwarven lands, where’ver they are, and help him raise my sons, or...” She spoke up, standing to her full height as she left the basket with the infants on the ground. “They’re mine, not yours. You can’t have them, the Dwarves can’t have them. I’ll raise them how I want to, I don’t give a damn what you-” Her sentence was cut abruptly short as Urir’s fist landed square on her face, sending her flying backwards, landing with a hard ‘thump’ on the ground. “Option twuu’, ye never see ‘em again.” He growled angrily, picking the basket up and stepping over the unconscious dark elven woman. He quickly exited the Camp, leaving her there as he headed a short sprint down the road to the Blackened Portal which lead to the Verge...and to his son’s safety.

Whatever beasts roamed the decrepit ruins that the Verge Portal first let out into were no match for Urir’s axe. He barely even noticed the various spiders biting at him or zombies clawing at him as he hurried through the ruins, up the spiral staircase until he finally reached the light of day. Immediately he could feel which direction to go, as the rush of people, refugees, politicians, families, royalty all converged upon one singular direction; That of their future, that of the ships of their respective nations, including Kal’Urguan’s.

Urir boarded the Dwarven ship with basket in hand and entered the Captain’s Quarters as he greeted his fellow Dwarves, those he considered his own flesh and blood, Kjell, Valen and Thorik stood together discussing their plans against the Undead as Urir sets the basket on the table. He looks into Thorik’s inquisitive gaze, moving the basket’s blanket with his eyes. Urir reveals the three ash-skinned babies. At first, Thorik gestures with a frown, to which Urir nods at. “T’ese be me’ sons...” He explains, sounding proud, yet eerily sad. He feels a hand on his shoulder, looking up, he sees Thorik’s hand. “Ah understand.” He says shortly. The scene, turns into grieving silence, completely opposite to what is outside, where people fight over food, ramble over nothing, and scream from one side to the other. Urir breaks the silence “Ah need ye tuu’ look after ‘dem...Ah dunnae want t’em ‘armed, Thorik.” He explains. “Aye, oi’ll make sure ta’ raise ‘em as me own an’ tell ‘em tales of how great t’eir fat’er was.” Urir nods, looking down at the basket as Thorik shelters the three.

Urir had precious little time to spend with his sons, and soon Kjell and Valen made it clear it was time to go. They left the ship with a parade of Dwarves following, cheering them on as the champions of Kal’Urguan. The horns trumpeted them all the way back to Aegis, then down the road to Laurelin, where the final stand against the Undead would be started. Though it would not be made there, for this time, the fight would be brought to the Undead. Cheers erupt from the watching crowds, Urir grinning and waving boisterously, more than happy to accept the praise. Out of the corner of his eye he seems to spy two glowing, purple eyes in the crowd, but he quickly writes it off, taking his place among the Champions of the other nations. He pays no mind to whatever speeches are given, watching the crowd. He glares at the Ascended who is bestowing Aerial’s blessing on the arms of the Champions, Urir refuses and snarls, “Ah dunnae’ need a blessin’ ‘o tha’ wench!” Urir says as he positions himself before the portal prematurely, as Thorik makes an appearance. He beckons for Urir to come over, who looks at him quizzically, approaching warily. Thorik chuckles “Ye’ goin’ like ‘tat?” He motions to his armor. Thorik shouts, as two dwarves approach, carrying a golden chest. “T’is me friend, is w’at ye gunnae wear.” Thorik says filled with confidence, ordering the two keepers of the chest to open it. Inside, a beautiful armor, crafted of a strange-looking diamond, seeming more in the tint of scales, the shoulder pads, with two runes each, both glowing strong. Urir looked at it, awe-struck. He recognized it from the myths and children’s tales; Urguan’s armor. “Tis’ armor was crafted by Urguan an’ was given tuu’ tae’ first Braveaxe, ‘tis armor ‘as saved me an’ me ancestors countless ‘o toimes an’ is ‘e relic ov tae’ Dwarves, now get in t’ere an’ show t’ose Undead scum whae’ we Dwarves are made of!” Urir stomped his foot once and let out a loud “Yarrr!”, he equipped the armor and extended his hand, Thorik grabs it as they embrace each other firmly, Urir pats Thorik on the back before he lets go of him, slowly retreating back into the cheering crowd as he speaks his final words towards Thorik. “May we meet again in Khaz-A-Den’trumm, brot’er.” Urir quickly ran back towards the portal after donning Urguan’s armor, pushing other champions out of the way, angry that he was not first. As he enters, the drone of the cheering crowd outside slowly fades, with one final sentence burning into his ear drums: “I hope you burn in the Nether Urir!” It is quickly drowned out by the agonizing screams of men and women alike, fellow champions laying dismembered as the thick smell of burning flesh hits Urir’s nostrils. Urir ran as he saw Kjell falter in the corner of his eye but did not stop.. His heart told him to stop for his companion, but his brain made his legs keep going. Valen too quickly fell behind as he became swarmed by Undead spawn, but there was nothing Urir could do for him as he quickly ascended the first Pinnacle where he stood before the sacrificial pit. A Human champion stood next to him as Urir muttered silently “We all ‘ave ta’ mayke sacrifoices.”, quickly planting his Axe into the Human’s rear as he falls to his knees, grasping the wound as Urir kicks him over into the pit, a path appearing before him leading towards the Axe of Krug.

Before him lay no more Champions, as he was the only to survive thus far, though the survival of the others did little to stall him. Without stopping to admire the Axe, he ran by, dropping his own and grabbing it with both hands as he did so. He smirked to himself as he felt the weight of the axe as it slid through the beasts of the nether like a knife through butter. “Now this be a foine weapon. Shame it’s gotta go!” He muttered to himself, letting out a loud, arrogant laugh as he slammed it clean through the skull of a zombie, leaping over the corpse and onto the next challenge.

It wasn’t long before Urir had bested all the traps and trials the Undead had laid before and after the Axe of Krug. It was with a great, unnatural haste that he soon reached the Nexus, the source of the Undead’s power, and where he, and the Axe, would meet their final fates. He shut his eyes as he approached it, perhaps to avoid being corrupted by it’s taint, or perhaps for reasons of reminiscing. He instead ran straight forwards, a wide grin coming to his face as the faces of his friends, allies, compatriots, and most importantly, family, all passed before him at a terrifying speed as he neared the edge of the Nexus. As he felt the ground disappear beneath his feet, as he dove axe-first towards destiny, he muttered one last thing to himself: “Burn ah will, Fe’yin.”

And burn he did, as did Aegis, as did the Undead in their tomb which was the former home of the Four Races. The ships set sail, following the setting sun as the clues had foretold, and into the distance. Thorik himself stayed with Urir’s children throughout the boat ride, leaving only to issue orders to his men, through the snow and hail, the rain and lightning, the bombardment by other ships. And in time they reached Asulon, at which point the Four Races went their separate ways, and though the sons of Urir were of two races, they went instead with the dwarves, guarded and kept safe in the new home of the Dwarves, in the Mountains of Karik. Here they were raised, here they were honored for their Father’s deeds, though here too they were labelled heretics and hated. Thorik’s word to Urir held true, and he guarded and raised the sons like his own, till the day of his death. Lost in the political chaos and cultural squabbles in the aftermath of Thorik’s assassination, the three brothers left the lands of the dwarves behind, though they did so grudgingly.

As their Father had found his purpose in fighting the Undead, the three brothers would need to find purpose in something other than their father’s legacy. Though in so great a shadow as that of Urir Ireheart’s, they sometimes felt it impossible to find their own destiny. It was on their extensive journeys throughout the lands of Asulon that they would find that which would give them their place, their own place, separate from that of their Father’s. Through the thick ice and snow of the lands of Hanseti the brothers travelled, and either by luck, or instinct, or just their desire for warmth, they took shelter in an alcove as the sun set on the horizon. And perhaps it was destiny, or luck, or just curiosity which drove the brothers to investigate the alcove further, finding it to be not a simply cave, but rather the entrance to something larger, and much grander. Pulled by fate through the darkened tunnels and dimly lit crevices, it was on their last set of torches that they discovered that which would give them meaning; The ruins of Asgol as they named it, that which would hold their namesake within: The Doom Forge.

Asulon

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After arriving to Asulon, Thorik gave the triplets his blessing for them to find a home, in their kingdom or somewhere they wished. The young Dwarves took upon travelling north, towards the tainted lands of Hanseti. There they found an entrance to an ancient tomb, which later rooted to a large underground city covering and spreading all the north of Asulon, some hallways that were blocked hinting that the city spread throughout all the continent. Here, the triplets found a forge called The Doom Forge, to which they bowed to protect it, and called themselves the Doomforged. The city was an ancient stronghold for the Derva, the first capital city of the Ancient Asulonian Dwarves. The city was called Kalas-gol (Sometimes called “Kal’Asgol”) and was once ruled by a Dwarf called Dormmar, the Flesh Lord. The City was stalked by beings of diverse kind; Dirhim (Scaled lizard dog-like beings.), Ice Wyrms and Frost Worms. In one of the invasions of Wyrms, Yorri was slain, to which Hodir and his son, Dormin, slain the Wyrm and took his skull as a remembrance of Yorri. The Doomforged lived there for all the time in Asulon, until the Lysitrata became a relevant threat, and they used tamed creatures called Dirhim to move the Doomforge to a boat off the northern human port to the newfound lands of Elysium. It is thought that within Kalas-gol, the Doomforged learnt many things from the grimoires and scribings on the city, including an ancient technique of Runesmithing called Kathiik (Flesh runes).

Elysium

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In Elysium, the Doomforged set home above the volcano in the center of the island, for safekeeping of the Doomforge. Here the Doomforged became known to most Dwarves as Dormin Doomforged, firstborn of Hodir became Forge Lord and performed several reformations, some quite abrasive to the Smithing Guild. Dormin married a Dark Elf and had three children with her, but she went missing soon after. He had a child with an Olog after a few months. Upon Kalos’ discovery miles away from the volcano island, Hodir, now clan father of the Doomforged, embarked on a journey there, where he claimed the Dwarven portion of Kalos, and conquested the entire land of Kalos, becoming one of the greatest warriors in all of the Descendants. Dormmar became notorious after Dormmar filed the proper archives and proved that Dormmar was a god of the Brathmordahkin, to which he was added. After the Volcano erupted from the Doomforge’s pulsating energy, the Doomforged found the forge on top of a nearby cliff and took it to their boat once again.

Anthos

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As the races arrived to Anthos, the Dwarves set home to the Southern Frozen valleys of Umgar’ul. The Doomforged set upon the tallest mountain’s base, creating an underground city named Kal’Urir. They built a mighty hold with many relics and treasures, many tunnels and hidden rooms. It’s construct rivalled that of all the Dwarven Cities. The Doomforge was moved carefully with the beasts Dirhim. Soon after they settled, Wyrvun, an ancient enemy awoke in the land, and Snow Elven monsters began arising from the depths of Kal’Urir, as they invaded and took the Doomforged home, after being outnumbered. The Doomforged began planning with the Stormhammer and the Legion to retake the city. After a failed assault, the monsters began appearing in nearby Holds. King Thorin Grimaxe declared war upon the monsters and their wretched lord as they sent the entire legion to Kal’Urir, slaying every Elf and retaking a strategic point. From here, every spawn of Wyrvun was slain and the Dwarven Peace restored. The Doomforged’s honor was hurt however, as they retreated to solitude, Dormin is known to have spoken few words to his friends during this time, only telling his apprentice Farren Starbreaker he was onto something grand regarding Kalas-gol. Most of the warriors of the Doomforged kept appearing during the battles against the Harbingers, and they were forced to move the Forge again as the entire continent was flooded with the dark frost from Setherien’s Lands.

Fringe and Thales

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During the Fringe and Thales, Dormin and the Doomforged kept to themselves although some saw them during fights at Dungrimm’s Mouth, but they were never around after the battle enough to be asked anything. However, as they kept appearing in battles, the armor they wore became much more dark and stood out from the legionnaire’s plate armor. Doomforged armor glowed with the same fury their eyes did, and it was as black as Setherien. Soon after the Red Realm opened, many Doomforged were found killing Setherien’s children Drakes and retrieving scales, later disappearing from the scene.

Athera

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Athera. The ark of all Dwarves, the Doomforged immediately felt a connection to the land as they arrived. They set home originally upon an ancient wizard tower to the North of Hiebenhall, then relocating to a ruin place to the west of the Cloud Temple. Dormin became incredibly hidden away at this point, where his cousin Demagol and Virak, his brother took the Doomforged to the remains of Kal'Agnar, renamed Kal'Velukrumm, ruled by the undead Velkan II Ironborn. During this terrible age for the Doomforged, one named Andermendin, found a blade in which was used to create Kathiik, an ancient art used by the Doomforged otherwise known as Fleshrunes. Eventually The Doomforged became entangled with the Undead, until Dormin came back, finding his clan in such disgrace, he plotted against the undead, and ultimately defeated Velkan by flooding his throne room and trapping him to a grizzly fate. Virak however, had turned undead, as him and his children were banished and brandished “Brightiron”, the Lost ones. The Doomforged finally found place within the Dwarves, creating the Hall of Hammers after Andermendin’s child, Angrom talked the kingdom into finally letting the Doomforged back into the Kingdom. Here they moved the Doomforge, as they finally became notorious into the Kingdom again. Dormin became Lord Specter of the Kingdom shortly after revealing certain findings of Atheran ancient lore. The Doomforged became incredibly popular as they began creating different forges after their decades of hermitage. These forges were incredibly unique and distributed cautiously throughout the kingdom.

After the schism of Lords, Dormin was removed, the single pillar of equality in the kingdom, and thus began a revolt, after a letter sent by Hodir’s firstborn, Dormin, Zahrer decided to resign and exile himself from the kingdom as a new king began to be elected. Hodir put himself as a candidate, quickly winning over the other candidates. Hodir was then made King of the Dwarves. After a reign of victory against the humans of Oren, Hodir was thought to be slain in battle. Demagol, believing Hodir to be dead, made a place for him inside the Doomforged Tombs. Dormin then, in grief, went missing, leaving Demagol once again to lead the clan. Demagol quickly set to renewing old ties with the Dark Elves, as well as within Urguan, making sure to strengthen the bond between the Doomforged and the Irehearts as distant kin. Almost after a month of peace, war struck Urguan once again. This time, the Uruks of the Iron Uzg sought for blood. Once again, the Doomforged began forging arms and armor for the dwarves of Urguan. As time goes on, and the war continues, and more attempts on the Doomforged's lives happen, Demagol begins turning away from his peaceful methods, starting to outright kill any who threaten Doomforged, showing no mercy, and making sure his kin know not give any as well. After several more years of war and bloodshed between the Iron Uzg and Kingdom of Urguan, the two nations finally decided it was enough, and created a Bloodpact. Though, after so many years, even decades of watching his clan be threatened, attacked, and killed, Demagol did not return to his old mindset of peace.

Vailor

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Vailor, The new lands, full of rich resources and beauty. It is here that the past Fathers' and Demagol's plans for the Doomforged begin to unfold. The Doomforged began work immediately on the Khaz'Khron, Hall of Iron, for them to reside in. After years of Demagol's attempts to solidify a place for the Doomforged, he decided he should hand Clan Father onto someone else, that being Dulgrim, a younger, newer dwarf. Dulgrim expressed his goals for the Doomforged, seeking something much greater than what they were then. After Demagol disagreeing with Dulgrim's methods, he removed him from Clan Father. Demagol became Clan Father again, despite his worries on the matter. After years under King Balek, the Irongut 'died' to the Devourer. Skippy Irongut became King, causing a Civil War to break out between the Loyalist Dwarves, and Verthaik Frostbeard's 'Mountain Monarchy'. Demagol kept the Doomforged out of the conflict for the most part, stepping in to say a few words to both sides on how they must unite. Finally the war ended, and the Doomforged began fading slowly and slowly away. Years pass, and Skippy is assassinated before Demagol's very eyes. The Clan Father hurriedly attempted to get the King to healers, but alas, he was dead. After that, Elections were held and Demagol ran for Grand King. He lost to Uldar Irongut, and after Uldar began making tyrannical moves, Demagol decided to move away from the Kingdom. Years later, Azaghal Doomforged assists other dwarves in removing Uldar from the throne and then Midgor Ireheart becomes King