82 lines
22 KiB
JSON
82 lines
22 KiB
JSON
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"0": "This tome is the story of a dwarf, his life and the Order he has founded. You may or may not know of the Mithril Warhammers but, throughout many lands, their battle cry of 'For the Light!' has been and continues to be a welcome sound to the hearts of those evil preys upon and a baneful shriek of destruction to the evil ones themselves. Jerrel Swiftwind, Bard and Scribe to the Elven Lords of the Black Forest, wrote of the Order of the Mithril Warhammers these words:\n\n\"Their members are gentler than lambs and fiercer than lions, merging the mildness of the monk with the valor of the knight so well that, it is difficult to decide which to call them. They adorn their Shrine of Light with weapons instead of gems, with shields instead of crowns of gold, with armor and items of power instead of candelabra. They are ever eager for victory, but not fame, for battle, not for Pomp. They abhor wasteful speech, unnecessary action, unmeasured laughter, gossip and chatter, as they despise all vain things. Who, in spite of being many, live in one house, according to one rule, with one voice, one heart, one soul.\"\n\nBut, as most of the members of the Order will tell you, the heart and soul of the Order was and is its leader, Lord Simeron Steelhammer, though when asked or told this you will only get a loud 'BAH!' from the aging dwarf. I decided to find out more about this old warrior and began by spending many long days and nights entombed within the vast archives and libraries of Castle Steelhammer high in the mountains.\n\nDuring one long stay, I came across a book well cared for and off by itself yet, one could tell it had not been opened in many, many winters. Taking my light globe with me, I approached the alcove only to find it glyphed and warded with many powerful protections of both elven and dwarven runes. This perplexed me even further as I had already found tomes of great value that were left totally unprotected save for the walls of stone the castle and mountain themselves offered. I sought to find Lord Simeron to ask about this but, he was off leading a patrol against an ogre raiding party. Nobody in the castle had even heard of the book but each told me it best to leave it alone if such protections were indeed placed upon it for, Lord Simeron kept few secrets but, those that he did were guarded for good reason. A few even mused that perhaps the wards were not to keep people out of the book but possibly, something IN the book. At any rate, I took their good advice for several reason, including that I was a guest in their home and would certainly not wish to act rudely or offend any of them, least of all their leader.\n\nLater that night however, as I prepared to bed myself in the plush guest room after a fine meal of mutton stew and fresh brewed dwarven ale from the Rusty Steel Tavern, I felt eyes upon my back and the hairs of my neck rose. Now, I am not some young bookworm or scholar that has not seen the world. I am a fairly experienced adventurer in my own right and have faced many terrors but, something was different here. I felt no fear or dread whatsoever. Quite the opposite in fact, I felt warmth, comfort, well being and nay, even a bit of a love. The kind of love one has for a child or young animal that make you smile. I turned and there facing me was a lovely gnomish woman standing no more then my waist tall. She was dressed in a fine golden gown that glittered and twinkles as if the stars of a clear summer night sky had been somehow trapped in the golden summer sunbeams of the morning that comes after it. Her hair was the color of fresh corn on the ends and of the blackest jet overall. But it was her deep green eyes that drew my attention the most. They pierced through my own straight into my very essence. I could feel her looking at my soul and measuring my worth from what she saw there. As I said before, I am no waif to be scared easily nor am I one that is easily shamed for I have always held my honor well. But I found myself turning my eyes from hers without thought, as if I was not worthy to m
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