Vast and sprawling it was but crouching in the very centre, incongrous in that desolate waste, a great ziggurat rose. Ancient beyond belief, ruined and grand its' black stones defied the elements. Like the bones of some long extinct behemoth it rose from the sands. Finally, with death nigh upon them and all hope fled they came at last to the nameless city. Long after they passed the point of no return they trudged on. Drawn by siren calls of the unknown for many days they travelled. So it was that eventually the bravest or most foolish of these that set out across the waste. Some settled there on the borders of that unforgiving waste and grew and prospered in their hold on the edge of the desert. Till they came at last to the great desert. Ever onwards they went seeking for they knew not what. Whether these few souls drew their need from their life in the world that was or whether it grew anew none can know.
Yet there are always some who do not settle, who seek ever over the horizon for that bit more to fill the hole in their souls that they did not know was there. So the children of Grungni spread and flourished settling into the land and putting down roots of stone and iron. The realm of fire attracted many its' stark beauty and harshness, calling to something deep within their souls. The age of myth was yet young when the duardin first started to explore the mortal realms. The following is reproduced with the kind permission of Harrdap Pastrane Lovecraftsson, chief librarian of the Grand Lodge of Khazrack Zharr.īeing taken from ' The Dream Scapes' of the mad Runemaster Hadred ap Azral as contained in the forbidden Dolzharrmonikan.