Ondnarch

The two works of Ondnarch contain ancient Dwarven knowledge. Copies exist in the Cloud Temple library.

Part I: The Fall of Wyrvun

Part I is taken from the myths and legends of ancient Mountain Dwarves, passed down from father to son throughout ages past.

Long ago, in ancient times when the world was young and pure, the first snows of the Deep Cold arrived. At first, the mortal races who lived beneath them marvelled at their beauty but as years passed, the cold would not release its icy grip and it held tight as many would perish. The ground froze and crops would no longer grow, as warmth and firewood became ever scarcer. Soon enough, the creator looked upon the world with pity as he saw the suffering of his people. Though without the heart to destroy such a beautiful creation, it was something with the power to destroy all life and thus needed to be controlled.

It was then that Wyrvun was created, the very embodiment of the ice cold winds and the frost that settled upon the ground. For he was the Lord of the Deep Cold and the elements of his realm each answered to his call. An Aengul of great power, at his command were all that made up the realm of ice. Such was his power that he could even contest many of the creator’s divine beings. His love for all that was of the Deep Cold was strong, and it pained him deeply that the mortal races of the world dreaded for it to begin and would soon celebrate its end.

There then came a day when a darkness fell over the world, and even the realm of Wyrvun was not untouched. It was here that a shadow encompassed Wyrvun's domain, and darkness slowly crept upon the frozen north. As the shade grew ever closer to his dwelling, the ice seemed to turn into a deep black, and swallow what light was left. Wyrvun could only gaze upon this darkness and in doing so, felt the corruption of the world in which he lived. The ice which light had once danced upon, became dark, twisted and corrupt, a shadow of its former self. Though the fear would not control him, the voices in his mind started to murmur, as they tore at his very being from within.

“Would an eternal cold not be beautiful? The mortals wish you gone, and yet you care for them! Why should you, Wyrvun, Lord of the Deep Cold, not spread your realm and consume the world?”

As the words were uttered, Wyrvun seemed to fall into a dazed state and for the first time in his existence, he felt an ever consuming fear. It was not in his creation to be either weak, nor foolish and in his fury, the world shook. The mountains responded, and a blizzard which was by far unmatched by any other, crept down from the north, destroying all in its path. As it approached, a gigantic being in the form of a dragon emerged from within, larger than any mountain stood. Its form could bend light and surrounding it, a blue glow was cast. As it let out an almighty roar, the temperature dropped and the air seemed to freeze. Wyrvun was bound to no form, but commanded all in the realm of ice.

In spite of this, the shade stood in the shadow of the dragon, and from it, arose a sinister laugh. Darkness and flame begun to envelope the ground at Wyrvun’s feet and so he raised his wings and flew high above the mountaintops, his presence blocking out the rays of the sun and casting a pulsating blue light upon the north. Though in all his might, Wyrvun was no match for the Lord of Darkness. Something grabbed a hold of his leg and dragged him down into the black abyss below, where no light shone and only darkness prevailed.

There he was bound by shadow and fire, and a last roar of defiance escaped him as the once so pure, mighty and beautiful Wyrvun was dragged far beneath the ground into a prison of the darkest magic. What evils happened down there are known to none other than he, for what came was an abomination of his former self. All that arose from the abyss was a twisted and corrupt being. The Lord of the Deep Cold who once had been so beautiful and pure was now dark and terrible.

“Rise Ondnarch, terror of the north, bringer of the silent cold... Enslaver... Consumer...Devourer.”

((Original post))

Part II: The Eternal Cold

The following story is taken from the tomes of ancient Dwarves, translated into the common tongue.

Some say the world will end in fire, and others in ice, but as Ondnarch rose, non held disbelief in the latter. In his wake came a cold unmatched by all others, for all the world would shake and grow to fear him. As the cold consumed the warmth of the world, the mortals could but look on with horror as their homes were consumed by ice.

His roar was heard and feared by all, and as he descended, he shook the world. All should fear and know of his coming. His influence started to take grip of the very fabrics of the world, and slowly his cold grasp took a hold of all mortals that stood in his way. It was then as he flew far above the ground and spread his great wings into the air, enshrouding the whole north in a blizzard, that a rasping, blood curdling voice spoke loudly in his mind. It was a familiar voice and what it commanded was impossible to disobey...

“The sons of Urguan have long dwelled within their mountains, unchallenged... Now consume the souls of the strong and enslave that which is left. Corrupt the blood of the people and leave but ice and snow... Shatter the very hearth of this world.”

With Ondnarch’s descent upon the north, a vast storm arose, splintering tree and stone as if it were nothing. Legions of ice spawn crashed against the gates of the dwarven hold, and as he fell upon the tip of the mountain, the land itself was corrupted and twisted by his evil. The battle was over before the dwarves even had a chance to stand up. Yet the sons of Urguan were cunning as they were bold and dug tunnels which led them deep into the heart of the mountain. Here the last survivors remained as Ondnarch’s gaze turned instead towards the south.

Tensions quickly rose throughout Kal'Urguan as the dwarves within could feel the corruption slowly closing its grip upon their hollowed mountain home. You could see it in their faces; the hopelessness, the fear. Some would lose their minds and run, yet others would stand and fight. King Barradin of Kal’Urguan stayed behind the closed doors of the inner hold as Ondnarch’s wrath would encompass his home. Grabbing his ancient hammer and swearing by the gods that he would defend his people until the end, he stood his ground with valour. There, prepared himself for the darkness that was to come.

((Original post))

Part III: The Banishment of Ondnarch

The following story was taken from hidden tomes, formerly accessible by only the High Remembrancer. With the emerging threat of Ondnarch, they have been publicised for all to see.

Barradin remained resolute, unwavering, knowing only that he needed to act. The King met with his Archbishop in hopes that his gods, the Brathmordakin, might help him in his time of need. The noble King knelt before the great altar of the Brathmordakin and before him flashed a vision. Deep beneath the ground, beyond what prying eyes could see, there stood a strange glowing shard. As the vision slowly faded, a voice begun to echo through the dwarf’s mind.

“I have heard your calls, Dwedus. The days of woes have been long for your kin, held in the icy grip of Ondnarch. I will aid you but it is up to you Barradin, son of Brundir, to protect your kin. The shard you look upon is the Kal’Varak... The City of Dreams. Find it and you will have what you require to defeat the dragon.”

He awakened with a slight headache, looking around him to see that many dwarves had gathered to discover what visions he had seen. Gazing up at the Archbishop as he stood leaning over him, Barradin whispered into his ear. “Gather th’ moiners. T’ere beh much work tuh beh dun’.” For forty days and forty nights, the stout miners toiled away, following Barradin’s directions as to where he believed he had seen the glowing shard. Such was the vastness of the excavation, that they had to tear apart the sacred places of the Brathmordakin in order to reach their destination.

It was on the last night, that they struck a large stone. From here, it took only a few hours before the giant crystal could be completely unearthed. The size of it rivalled many of the great iron wrought statues made by the dwarves of Kal’Urguan. As the dwarven King approached the slumped over crystal, the shard began to glow brighter and brighter. As it rose suddenly, suspended in mid air, no dwarf dared approach, even before Barradin ordered them not to. Whether it was the vision’s words or the wit of the king, Barradin knew who to speak to. He held a meeting with the Triumvirate of Runelords, the wisest and most knowledge of the dwarven runesmiths. There, they created a plot to ensnare Ondnarch and bind him forever.

Far to the north, beyond the great nations of Aegis, there stood the northern mountain ranges, ancestral homelands of the Mountain Dwarves. Here, the Triumvirate of Runelords gathered atop Mount Arvas, alongside them standing a Legion of the finest warriors in Kal’Urguan. The battle came swiftly, but Ondnarch was no fool and suspected that something was amiss. He swept down with a fearsome roar and with a single sweep, broke the line of dwarves, freezing the life from many, while the Runelords attempted to counter the dragon’s attacks with their own fire runes. In the centre of the destruction stood the Kal’Varak, the mysterious artefact granted to the dwarves by their gods.

As many of the dwarves lay dead, King Barradin himself stood amongst the bodies of his fallen kin, his mighty war hammer gripped tightly in his hands. The dragon made another sweep, attempting to make the final kill with ease. However the three Runelords, channelling all of their power upon the Kal’Varak, caused a great light to erupt from the shard as it rose, suspended between Ondnarch and King Barradin. The flash of light whipped through the skies, creating a blinding sight to all who looked up it. At the peak of the mountain, a great vortex begun to form, catching the dragon by surprise and drawing him towards it until his entire body was consumed. With that, Ondnarch, Bringer of the Silent Cold was bound, his spirit trapped within the vast emptiness of the Kal’Varak for all eternity.

((Original post))