Nuetral Forces

With no written word, much of Ogre history has vanished into the darkness of the past. Modern scholars fret about, trying to piece together the origin of the Ogres, much to the amusement of the Ogres themselves. This dismissal of intellectual pursuits coupled with their employment as mercenaries has given rise to the stereotype that Ogres are nothing more than uncultured brutes in search of gold.
Nothing could be further from the truth. The Ogre language is perhaps the most complicated in the world, with fourteen classes of female pronoun, each dependent on context and the speaker’s relationship to the subject. Speaking of an Ogre’s mother is almost never a good idea unless one has 

spent at least a decade studying the language. This complex language suits the Ogres for they are at heart a people of story tellers, not stories of deeds long past, but events the teller actually experienced, embellished in the telling. An Ogre proves their wealth through the stories they have collected, not through gold amassed.

​​A race of individuals, Ogres have never been able to understand why the other races pass one person’s belongings to their children when they die. For Ogres, such an act wrongs both the deceased and the children, since the children will not have to opportunity to earn what they inherited. To give an Ogre a gift is perhaps the greatest insult possible, one which almost always ends in someone’s death.
From childhood, an Ogre struggles to survive against the wild beasts and frigid landscape of the frozen north. Those few that survive to adulthood possess incredible skill on top of their sheer physical size and strength. They grow up listening to the stories their family members tell of their time fighting as mercenaries. They hear of the great mountains of Abercarr and the expanding desert of the Eastern Reaches. For an Ogre, no honour comes from 

​​
knowing his father visited these places. They must travel the world, fight its horrors, and return with great riches to prove their own worth, to make their own stories.
 
Thus, every year there is the Thing. They call this gathering the Thing for there are no other things in the Ogre calendar, no festivals or holidays. At the Thing, young Ogres sign on to a veteran captain, who persuades them of his worth through reciting his own adventures in the south. Every nation in the world will pay handsomely for the service of an Ogre band, so an Ogre will have crossed Mantica twice over by the time they decide to return home. Upon returning to the warring 

 tribes of their frozen land, they will find a mate and sire a few little ones. Those children that survive to understand speech will sit at their father’s feet, eyes wide, listening intently as he explains how he fought in the south and saw things they could not believe. And so a new generation will grow up, raise their swords, and charge across the world, eager to carve out their own stories.

Standing perhaps chest high to most humans, the stubborn dwarfs feel most comfortable in the dark underground rather than beneath the open sky. Their great beards flecked with dust from their mines and wet with ale, spilled from shaking with laughter at the notion of living above ground. Thus, it is unsurprising that they claim descent from the goddess of those places. The story goes that the goddess of the underworld wept, for she would never have children. Those tears dripped through the caverns of the world and, over the ages, solidified into the first dwarf.
Like the other races, the dwarfs lived in unity until the God War. With the outbreak of that war, dwarven kind split into three major camps. The Abyssa Dwarfs in the northern lands 

of Tragar aligned with the Wicked Ones and the orcs. The southern dwarfs of Abercarr remained unified, but did not align openly with the Shining Ones. Between the two lay the Free Dwarf Lands, a collection of independent dwarven city-states.
Ever an insular people, the dwarfs looked to their mines and tunnels even in the ancient time of the Celestians. It took the fervent pleas of Valandor the Great to persuade them to join the war against Winter. The dwarfs came to regret their decision; Winter’s flood swept into their holds, killing thousands of dwarfs. Anguished and mourning their dead, the dwarfs sealed shut their holds, turning their backs on the world. When they opened their gates once more, many would wish that they remained shut.

Under the long rule of King Golloch, the Imperial Dwarfs of Abercarr have turned their gaze upon the world again. Ironclad warriors march in lockstep like a well-oiled machine, while mad dwarfen warsmiths lead iron monstrosities that belch fire and spew iron from their maws. The Abercarri have conquered large swathes of lands from the surface dwellers. In recent years the free  lands have come under siege by the necromancer Mhorgoth the Faceless. Mhorgoth's forces have decimated many of the free states, killing noble and commoner alike. On the heels of this ongoing siege, the dwarfs of Abercarr returned to the surface,Golloch the Conqueror has offered aid to his beleaguered kin, but at the price of swearing fealty to him. Though reluctant pay such a price, many of the free dwarf cities have been forced to do so in order to survive since the death of their leader, Thorrick Rockfist, at the hands of Mhorgoth.
 
This ambitious attitude runs the Abercarri afoul of the Basileans with whom they share a northern 
border. Where previously the Abercarri and Basileans peacefully coexisted, many dwarf masons having built Basilea’s southern cities, Golloch’s ambition has driven the two into conflict. Basilea even controls the ruins of Abercarr’s old capital, Difetth. Furthermore, Basilea’s ports are the only trade route open for the dwarfs to sell their goods to the rest of the world. The two nations continually butt heads over these two issues, coming to blows often. King Golloch has supposedly drunkenly sworn to topple the Basilean City of the Golden Horn.
 
Unfortunately for Basilea, a dwarf keeps his promises. Though the elves may have the longest lives, the dwarfs have the longest memories. They will call upon contracts and alliances made a thousand years ago and expect them to be honoured. To a dwarf an oath is an oath, whether made drunk or sober.
Standing perhaps chest high to most humans, the stubborn dwarfs feel most comfortable in the dark underground rather than beneath the open sky. Their great beards flecked with dust from their mines and wet with ale, spilled from shaking with laughter at the notion of living above ground. Thus, it is unsurprising that they claim descent from the goddess of those places. The story goes that the goddess of the underworld wept, for she would never have children. Those tears dripped through the caverns of the world and, over the ages, solidified into the first dwarf.
Like the other races, the dwarfs lived in unity until the God War. With the outbreak of that war, dwarven kind split into three major camps. The Abyssa Dwarfs in the northern lands 

of Tragar aligned with the Wicked Ones and the orcs. The southern dwarfs of Abercarr remained unified, but did not align openly with the Shining Ones. Between the two lay the Free Dwarf Lands, a collection of independent dwarven city-states.
Ever an insular people, the dwarfs looked to their mines and tunnels even in the ancient time of the Celestians. It took the fervent pleas of Valandor the Great to persuade them to join the war against Winter. The dwarfs came to regret their decision; Winter’s flood swept into their holds, killing thousands of dwarfs. Anguished and mourning their dead, the dwarfs sealed shut their holds, turning their backs on the world. When they opened their gates once more, many would wish that they remained shut.

Under the long rule of King Golloch, the Imperial Dwarfs of Abercarr have turned their gaze upon the world again. Ironclad warriors march in lockstep like a well-oiled machine, while mad dwarfen warsmiths lead iron monstrosities that belch fire and spew iron from their maws. The Abercarri have conquered large swathes of lands from the surface dwellers. In recent years the free  lands have come under siege by the necromancer Mhorgoth the Faceless. Mhorgoth's forces have decimated many of the free states, killing noble and commoner alike. On the heels of this ongoing siege, the dwarfs of Abercarr returned to the surface,Golloch the Conqueror has offered aid to his beleaguered kin, but at the price of swearing fealty to him. Though reluctant pay such a price, many of the free dwarf cities have been forced to do so in order to survive since the death of their leader, Thorrick Rockfist, at the hands of Mhorgoth.
 
This ambitious attitude runs the Abercarri afoul of the Basileans with whom they share a northern 
border. Where previously the Abercarri and Basileans peacefully coexisted, many dwarf masons having built Basilea’s southern cities, Golloch’s ambition has driven the two into conflict. Basilea even controls the ruins of Abercarr’s old capital, Difetth. Furthermore, Basilea’s ports are the only trade route open for the dwarfs to sell their goods to the rest of the world. The two nations continually butt heads over these two issues, coming to blows often. King Golloch has supposedly drunkenly sworn to topple the Basilean City of the Golden Horn.
 
Unfortunately for Basilea, a dwarf keeps his promises. Though the elves may have the longest lives, the dwarfs have the longest memories. They will call upon contracts and alliances made a thousand years ago and expect them to be honoured. To a dwarf an oath is an oath, whether made drunk or sober.

The Herd

Standing perhaps chest high to most humans, the stubborn dwarfs feel most comfortable in the dark underground rather than beneath the open sky. Their great beards flecked with dust from their mines and wet with ale, spilled from shaking with laughter at the notion of living above ground. Thus, it is unsurprising that they claim descent from the goddess of those places. The story goes that the goddess of the underworld wept, for she would never have children. Those tears dripped through the caverns of the world and, over the ages, solidified into the first dwarf.
Like the other races, the dwarfs lived in unity until the God War. With the outbreak of that war, dwarven kind split into three major camps. The Abyssa Dwarfs in the northern lands 

of Tragar aligned with the Wicked Ones and the orcs. The southern dwarfs of Abercarr remained unified, but did not align openly with the Shining Ones. Between the two lay the Free Dwarf Lands, a collection of independent dwarven city-states.
Ever an insular people, the dwarfs looked to their mines and tunnels even in the ancient time of the Celestians. It took the fervent pleas of Valandor the Great to persuade them to join the war against Winter. The dwarfs came to regret their decision; Winter’s flood swept into their holds, killing thousands of dwarfs. Anguished and mourning their dead, the dwarfs sealed shut their holds, turning their backs on the world. When they opened their gates once more, many would wish that they remained shut.

Under the long rule of King Golloch, the Imperial Dwarfs of Abercarr have turned their gaze upon the world again. Ironclad warriors march in lockstep like a well-oiled machine, while mad dwarfen warsmiths lead iron monstrosities that belch fire and spew iron from their maws. The Abercarri have conquered large swathes of lands from the surface dwellers. In recent years the free  lands have come under siege by the necromancer Mhorgoth the Faceless. Mhorgoth's forces have decimated many of the free states, killing noble and commoner alike. On the heels of this ongoing siege, the dwarfs of Abercarr returned to the surface,Golloch the Conqueror has offered aid to his beleaguered kin, but at the price of swearing fealty to him. Though reluctant pay such a price, many of the free dwarf cities have been forced to do so in order to survive since the death of their leader, Thorrick Rockfist, at the hands of Mhorgoth.
 
This ambitious attitude runs the Abercarri afoul of the Basileans with whom they share a northern 
border. Where previously the Abercarri and Basileans peacefully coexisted, many dwarf masons having built Basilea’s southern cities, Golloch’s ambition has driven the two into conflict. Basilea even controls the ruins of Abercarr’s old capital, Difetth. Furthermore, Basilea’s ports are the only trade route open for the dwarfs to sell their goods to the rest of the world. The two nations continually butt heads over these two issues, coming to blows often. King Golloch has supposedly drunkenly sworn to topple the Basilean City of the Golden Horn.
 
Unfortunately for Basilea, a dwarf keeps his promises. Though the elves may have the longest lives, the dwarfs have the longest memories. They will call upon contracts and alliances made a thousand years ago and expect them to be honoured. To a dwarf an oath is an oath, whether made drunk or sober.

Kingdoms of Men

Standing perhaps chest high to most humans, the stubborn dwarfs feel most comfortable in the dark underground rather than beneath the open sky. Their great beards flecked with dust from their mines and wet with ale, spilled from shaking with laughter at the notion of living above ground. Thus, it is unsurprising that they claim descent from the goddess of those places. The story goes that the goddess of the underworld wept, for she would never have children. Those tears dripped through the caverns of the world and, over the ages, solidified into the first dwarf.
Like the other races, the dwarfs lived in unity until the God War. With the outbreak of that war, dwarven kind split into three major camps. The Abyssa Dwarfs in the northern lands 

of Tragar aligned with the Wicked Ones and the orcs. The southern dwarfs of Abercarr remained unified, but did not align openly with the Shining Ones. Between the two lay the Free Dwarf Lands, a collection of independent dwarven city-states.
Ever an insular people, the dwarfs looked to their mines and tunnels even in the ancient time of the Celestians. It took the fervent pleas of Valandor the Great to persuade them to join the war against Winter. The dwarfs came to regret their decision; Winter’s flood swept into their holds, killing thousands of dwarfs. Anguished and mourning their dead, the dwarfs sealed shut their holds, turning their backs on the world. When they opened their gates once more, many would wish that they remained shut.

Under the long rule of King Golloch, the Imperial Dwarfs of Abercarr have turned their gaze upon the world again. Ironclad warriors march in lockstep like a well-oiled machine, while mad dwarfen warsmiths lead iron monstrosities that belch fire and spew iron from their maws. The Abercarri have conquered large swathes of lands from the surface dwellers. In recent years the free  lands have come under siege by the necromancer Mhorgoth the Faceless. Mhorgoth's forces have decimated many of the free states, killing noble and commoner alike. On the heels of this ongoing siege, the dwarfs of Abercarr returned to the surface,Golloch the Conqueror has offered aid to his beleaguered kin, but at the price of swearing fealty to him. Though reluctant pay such a price, many of the free dwarf cities have been forced to do so in order to survive since the death of their leader, Thorrick Rockfist, at the hands of Mhorgoth.
 
This ambitious attitude runs the Abercarri afoul of the Basileans with whom they share a northern 
border. Where previously the Abercarri and Basileans peacefully coexisted, many dwarf masons having built Basilea’s southern cities, Golloch’s ambition has driven the two into conflict. Basilea even controls the ruins of Abercarr’s old capital, Difetth. Furthermore, Basilea’s ports are the only trade route open for the dwarfs to sell their goods to the rest of the world. The two nations continually butt heads over these two issues, coming to blows often. King Golloch has supposedly drunkenly sworn to topple the Basilean City of the Golden Horn.
 
Unfortunately for Basilea, a dwarf keeps his promises. Though the elves may have the longest lives, the dwarfs have the longest memories. They will call upon contracts and alliances made a thousand years ago and expect them to be honoured. To a dwarf an oath is an oath, whether made drunk or sober.

League of Rhordia

Standing perhaps chest high to most humans, the stubborn dwarfs feel most comfortable in the dark underground rather than beneath the open sky. Their great beards flecked with dust from their mines and wet with ale, spilled from shaking with laughter at the notion of living above ground. Thus, it is unsurprising that they claim descent from the goddess of those places. The story goes that the goddess of the underworld wept, for she would never have children. Those tears dripped through the caverns of the world and, over the ages, solidified into the first dwarf.
Like the other races, the dwarfs lived in unity until the God War. With the outbreak of that war, dwarven kind split into three major camps. The Abyssa Dwarfs in the northern lands 

of Tragar aligned with the Wicked Ones and the orcs. The southern dwarfs of Abercarr remained unified, but did not align openly with the Shining Ones. Between the two lay the Free Dwarf Lands, a collection of independent dwarven city-states.
Ever an insular people, the dwarfs looked to their mines and tunnels even in the ancient time of the Celestians. It took the fervent pleas of Valandor the Great to persuade them to join the war against Winter. The dwarfs came to regret their decision; Winter’s flood swept into their holds, killing thousands of dwarfs. Anguished and mourning their dead, the dwarfs sealed shut their holds, turning their backs on the world. When they opened their gates once more, many would wish that they remained shut.

Under the long rule of King Golloch, the Imperial Dwarfs of Abercarr have turned their gaze upon the world again. Ironclad warriors march in lockstep like a well-oiled machine, while mad dwarfen warsmiths lead iron monstrosities that belch fire and spew iron from their maws. The Abercarri have conquered large swathes of lands from the surface dwellers. In recent years the free  lands have come under siege by the necromancer Mhorgoth the Faceless. Mhorgoth's forces have decimated many of the free states, killing noble and commoner alike. On the heels of this ongoing siege, the dwarfs of Abercarr returned to the surface,Golloch the Conqueror has offered aid to his beleaguered kin, but at the price of swearing fealty to him. Though reluctant pay such a price, many of the free dwarf cities have been forced to do so in order to survive since the death of their leader, Thorrick Rockfist, at the hands of Mhorgoth.
 
This ambitious attitude runs the Abercarri afoul of the Basileans with whom they share a northern 
border. Where previously the Abercarri and Basileans peacefully coexisted, many dwarf masons having built Basilea’s southern cities, Golloch’s ambition has driven the two into conflict. Basilea even controls the ruins of Abercarr’s old capital, Difetth. Furthermore, Basilea’s ports are the only trade route open for the dwarfs to sell their goods to the rest of the world. The two nations continually butt heads over these two issues, coming to blows often. King Golloch has supposedly drunkenly sworn to topple the Basilean City of the Golden Horn.
 
Unfortunately for Basilea, a dwarf keeps his promises. Though the elves may have the longest lives, the dwarfs have the longest memories. They will call upon contracts and alliances made a thousand years ago and expect them to be honoured. To a dwarf an oath is an oath, whether made drunk or sober.