Porki Thule offers to the library the following two legends from the dwarven people

The Drowning of Kroesus

Within the bosom of the earth stands Kroesus, a city that surpasses any that exists on the surface of the world. Its streets are laid with gold and its floors with ebony. Its gates are silver and bronze, strengthened by such magic that no force could ever break them down. The jewels of the earth have been made into lanterns for its homes, and rare and beautiful stones grace its walls, carved into cunnings designs and enchanted against all manner of decay or neglect. No star that graced the surface skies has ever been a beautiful as Kroesus, the city of the dwarves. Kroesus was the creation of t he first High King, Borin, after he received a vision from Moradin himself. Borin quested deep within the earth to find a home for his scattered people. He searched for many years but was unable to find a home that could serve his vision. Finally, he found a cavern deep within the earth, as large and tall as a mountain, with a lake in the center, an underground river below, and vents that traveled through the earth for miles to the air above. He knew that he had found a new home, and he summoned his people there.

For fifteen generations they worked, built, and carved his vision into being, using the riches from the earth itself to glorify their deity, bending their skills as craftsmen to every detail of their city. It became the most beautiful place in the entire world. Such beauty however, always draws the weak and cruel as well as the strong and wise. Other races of the earth heard of the magnificent city, and envy grew in their hearts. Such envy came not from the gnomes or goliaths, for they could create beauty of their own, but from the twisted souls of those who had no beauty in their own hearts: the drow.

The drow heard of the city and desired to take it from the dwarves. They sent spies to watch from the shadows and sneak past the gates, and they turned the hearts of the weak dwarves to their bidding. Unable to pass the great gates, they were sly and created a new entrance into the city, disguised with dark magic.

After biding their time for months, the drow attacked from within. They ravaged the city, slaughtering old and young alike, while the dwarf army fought bravely in the streets. The dwarves were not prepared for the numbers of the drow or the fight on their own lands, and they began to lose the battle.

King Kreadin, the High King of the dwarves, vowed to keep the drow from taking the city, regardless of the cost. The dwarves had long since tapped the underground river, and had devised a method by which the city could be flooded should disaster strike – a plan the drow never discovered.

When it became clear that the dwarves had been defeated, Kreadin girded himself with his father’s hammer and crown, secretly made his way to the dam room, and opened the floodgates. The entire city was flooded with the river’s fury, killing drow and dwarf alike in its inexorable torrent. Only a small group survived, sent by the king to the surface through a secret exit. Where these few dwarves are now is uncertain, but the quest to find them and reclaim the drowned city is the dream of every dwarf hero.

Conn (Son of Feodin) and the Crown of Sorrow

In the time before the dwarf people had chosen a new king to rule over the clans, each clan lived apart from the others, warring and trying to gain prominence over each other. In that time, the Ironforge Clan led the race for the kingship, with Feodin as its chieftain.

Feodin was a mighty warrior, with eyes that could pierce the darkest cave and an arm as strong as granite. He was well beloved by his clan, but his son Conn surpassed even him. Conn was handsome and strong, well favored with ebon-black hair and yes that glimmered like hearth light on steel. His right arm was as iron, while his left was as stone. His mind was keen as the sharpest blade, and his craftwork was as beautiful as that of the dwarf smiths of old. Clan Ironforge was well pleased with their chieftain’s son, and looked forward t o Conn’s reign with great satisfaction.

Feodin loved his son and treasured him above even gold, jewels, and the secret crafts that all dwarves hold dear inside their hearts. His mind was fearful, though, that his people loved his heir more than himself. He began to harbor doubts about Conn’s loyalty and steeled himself against his son, lest Conn try to take leadership of the clan before his time.

Conn saw this coldness in his father’s demeanor and was troubled. Still, he kept to his duties, even as his father became distant to him. He loved his clan, but he loved his father more. Some among his companions noticed the chief’s change in heart as well, and they urged Conn to wrest the throne from his father feared. He refused to do so, however, and dismissed those among his company who held such thoughts. He would not lay a hand against his father, not even to claim his birthright.

The unrest between father and son was a subject of much consternation among the clan members. While many tried to heal the breach, relations between the two continued to deteriorate as Feodin grew more and more paranoid about Conn’s intentions, despite Conn’s efforts to reassure his father and obey his wishes.

Meanwhile, the fortunes of the clan began to fail. Feodin’s decisions grew more and more erratic, as t he once-capable chieftain seemed only to choose the worst course of action time and again. Conn was torn by indecision: Should he turn against his father to save his clan?

Finally, a turning point came. Conn and a group of clanwardens were patrolling the eastern tunnels of the clan’s holdings when they came across a partially collapsed side passage. After checking the area for faults and weaknesses but finding none, they set out to clear the blockage and found a dwarf corpse, weeks old and greatly decayed. They recognized the deceased as a missing watch captain who had been absent for weeks. Upon examining the body, they were horrified to find the dwarf’s brain had been removed.

Conn had listened well to his teachers, and he recognized the evidence as that of an illithid attack. With his friends at his side, he immediately returned to the clan hall and sought an audience with his father. As he stood below the throne, ignoring the scowls he received from his chieftain, his eyes scoured the room for the darkest, deepest shadow he could see, the ones into which even a dwarven eye could not see. When he found such a spot, in a corner a short distance from his father’s throne, he gave a deep cry of rage and threw his hammer into the darkness. To the shock of all those present in the room, a mind flayer appeared where the hammer struck, giving a terrible screech of pain.

Conn struck quickly, not wanting to give the horrible creature any time to attack. His blows fell like strikes on an anvil, in a powerful rhythm that left the mind flayer reeling. Before he could kill the creature, however, it was able to reach his father. The old dwarf was weakened by his ordeal and was no match for the illithid who had been controlling him for weeks. He fell before it, even as Conn dealt it a mortal blow.

Conn took up the leadership of the clan. He had no wish to see another dwarf clan become prey to the mind flayers, so he called the greatest dwarf craft workers together and commissioned a crown to be worn by every chieftain after him, protection them in both mind and body against another insidious attack from the illithids. That crown, dubbed the Crown of Sorrow, was stolen during the reign of Conn’s grandson. It was Clan Irongforge’s most treasured possession and some among the clan search for it even today.