The Broken Temple of Verthandir

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Long before the existence of the Tovarr race, before the Dwarves of Ymir sacrificed themselves during the Unholy Wars, before King Barin took the Dwarven throne and drove the greatest economic expansion in Dwarven history, the Dwarven realm knew civil war.

Long ago, the Dwarven god Ymir appeared among the Dwarves and revealed many secrets of metal and magic to them. He urged them to explore the depths, promising to return and lead them to a golden age once all the secrets of stone and metal were unveiled. Many millennia later, the loyal Dvergheim built the Dwarven capital of Ymir's Tear by hollowing out the inside of a mountain. For many millennia more, the Dwarves knew Ymir as their god and labored relentlessly in the depths. In this era, the Dwarves kept mostly to themselves, engaging with other races only to defend against the great evil of Nagast or trade with the Chaldean empire. The Dwarves gradually expanded about the northern mainland of Agon and continued their labors of the earth in anticipation of their golden age.

After much time had gone by, the northern Dwarves of the Svartdverg tribe became weak of mind and either forgot or ignored the promise of Ymir. In an act of treachery to the Dwarven race, they allowed themselves to fall under the influence of a false god, a mortal named Heimar. Shortly after their conversion, they built the Temple of Heimar in Verthandir. The Ymir loyalists had the opportunity early on to stop the creation of the temple but allowed construction to continue in hopes that, by the will of Ymir, it would fail and humiliate the treasonous Svartdverg. The construction of the temple did not fail, and many Dwarves were doomed to die in the battles that came because of it.

When the temple in Verthandir was completed, many followers of Heimar gathered there to praise the false god. The fiery fervor of the zealots was fanned by the self-proclaimed priests of Heimar until the Svartdverg grew resentful of the Dvergheim. Using the element of surprise against the Dvergheim, who expected their tolerance of this false worship to prevent any violence, the restless Svartdverg struck the outer cities of the Dvergheim empire, taking Maghnir and Idawoll under their control before moving to the heart of the empire.

The coup ultimately failed when the largest of the Svartdverg forces was defeated by the Dvergheim loyalists at the southern foot of the mountain capital. The victorious Dvergheim force marched south and swiftly reclaimed Maghnir and Idawoll. After the battles had subsided, the Dvergheim loyalists sought out and destroyed the Temple of Heimar in Verthandir. The mortal Heimar himself was found dead at the main altar of the temple, an apparent suicide, with the smoky trappings of ritualistic ambiance heavy in the air. Though defeated, the Svartdverg did not immediately surrender their faith, choosing exile over assimilation back into Dwarven society.

Over time, Ymir's Tear became known as Cor Ymirhal and remained the center of Dwarven, and later Tovarr, society. The self-proclaimed Children of Heimar found their faith slowly eroded by time and the knowledge of the mortality of their god. Still unwilling to rejoin the Dvergheim under the promise of Ymir, the Svartdverg sought out another who could give them the direction and power they desired to shatter the Dvergheim once and for all. They found just such a figure in the dark demi-god Sahul.

Thus did the "Era of Heimar" slowly but certainly end as the "Era of Sahul" approached.

Song of Wanderlust

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If e'er the lust for wandering does settle in your bones

For sights of nature's beauty or for long forgotten thrones

To walk the fields of battle where the past has settled stones

Or light the torch of undiscovered paths in the unknown

Recall the tale of Wanderlust, whose captain had no name

That sailed the ocean far and wide for fortune and for fame

Recall the tale of Wanderlust, whose mighty sails were tamed

That sailed the ocean side to side but fortune never came

She sailed through storms of snow and hail and never lost her course

She ne'er did founder, list, nor heel beneath a wind or force

True beneath the moon of Neith, she sailed and sailed some more

Until the day she finally found the barren Nerzok shore

Her captain left his Wanderlust to build upon the land

The treasure he was seeking all along with his own hands

And from this dream he dreamed for many years beyond the sand

He finally knew the finish for the road his whole life spanned

And so it goes we treasure now the wonder he began

And Wanderlust is naught but bones that ne'er did sail again

Hapless Hadar and the Port of Grivendale

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There is a story among the Tovarr near Grivendale that on the nights when the lighthouse fire burns blue under the three moons of Agon, a ghost ship can be seen putting into the eastern port.

The tale of the ethereal black sails of the ship, emblazoned with the symbol of the First Shield Battalion, is spoken with hushed awe by those who claim to have seen it. The vessel is said to be the brigantine of the ill-fated Tovarr captain Hadar Stonewater, often called Hadar the Hapless in Tovarr tales.

As the story goes, Hadar put together a crew of seventeen Tovarr sailors and set off to find the rumored treasure of the temple of Ahutil on the northern coast of Yssam. Whispers in Tovarr pubs from hunters and explorers claimed to have seen mountains of selentine within the temple but could not return with proof because of restless guardians amid the temple grounds. The hearsay of the locals of Gulgrumir promised endless wealth to the crew who could brave those haunted halls and live to tell the tale.

Those who penned the earliest known recordings of this voyage remark in their accounts, with great detail, the grandiose farewell and the yearning of good tides from starry-eyed onlookers. Children wore eye patches over closed eyes and wielded wooden scimitars. Women wore aprons with fresh stains of the days festivities and waved towels before them. Some men wore workers clothes and shared tales of what might be. Other men donned worn battle regalia of wars long past and lined the gangway as the crew boarded the vessel. The docks of Grivendale were littered with iron dust and rice by night's end.

There exists no account of their return.