Found lore: Dwarven Golems
From the “Exotic Cultures Exhibit” of Pope Innocent IX “the Conqueror Pope”.
Translation of the golden journal plates of:
Thurgbor, of the gildcraft family Hurngboort, whose ancestors come from and rest in the iron veins, and whose children now rest in the venerable gem halls.
[curator’s note: This Thurgbor was likely a skilled poet, as their runes show evidence of both phonic and visual rhyme, though that mayn’t translate here]
Plates I - XLVI
Missing from this collection.
Plate XLVII
Count, the twenty-third hearthfire of the broken harmony of Underrealm.
Mole[people] scratches wear thin the holy doors of sanctum.
Family stone of my children, carried by their colleagues to
The unknown tunnels.
Colleagues [and I] ascend Hightunnel with a destination of Overrealm.
[the entry would continue, but the plate is broken here]
Plates XLVIII - LI
Missing from this collection.
Plate LII
Count, the fourth skyfire of [our] landing to Overrealm.
Absence of skyfire, married to darkness and absence of [my] children and elders,
Sorrow, sorrow, sorrow!
Water of headsoul aquifer, a trickling fall across a rocky facade,
Resolute faces scream into the dark of no skyfire.
Sorrow, sorrow!
Realmbreath smells of [fruit]rot and carrion, not of hearth and tubers,
not of (lists numerous varieties of what are assumed to be mushrooms), for which we hunger.
Realmhair is strong with a flowing grain, burns warm, and smells of my wife’s beard
perfume.
Sorrow.
Count, the fifth skyfire of [our] landing to Overrealm.
Realmhair keeps its best fruit.
Its tassels flat, soft, and of emerald skin.
The shadows cast upon realmhair, dark portraits from skyfire, confirms [Overrealm] is
round like a head, and without ceiling.
We ask, do we reside on the head of a god(dess)?
Supposed, the realmbreath comes from skyface - his(her) cheeks puft.
Ancestors speak wisdoms [to us] through these mushrooms.
Grateful for beautiful wisdom, tasty fruits and mushrooms.
Plates LIII - LXII
Missing from this collection.
Plate LXIII
Count, the fifteenth skyfire of [our] landing to Overrealm.
The forest folk, like Dwarves but with lost beards and limbs long like realmhair,
Spew curses onto us for the cutting of realmhair.
We show the growing of realmhair and beardhair, gifts of the god(dess)! Ignored!
Like a great worm has interest in a small prey, their eyes gaze upon us.
Yet they stand on a shaking bridge when facing the majesty of golems.
Diplomacy is an untrue stone this fire;
It will support a doorway for one generation, but not more.
Plates LXIV - LXVII
Missing from this collection.
Plate LXVIII
Count, the nineteenth skyfire of [our] landing to Overrealm.
Beasts of armour and great muscle, fang and treachery,
Transgressions and trespasses against our lodgings.
Growls like that of demons and great worms,
Soon silenced by the might of golems and the thrusts of spears.
Hark, Death: they wish to sic on us!
O, beasts, Death drinks at our table!
Their souls, sent to the company of their ancestors.
Their flesh, sent to our salt barrels.
Plates LXIX - LXX
Missing from this collection.
Plate LXXI
Count, the twenty-eighth skyfire of [our] landing to Overrealm.
With regret, I rush these lines,
Colleagues, forgive my clumsy couplets.
Sharp arrows of the forestfolk run through air faster than their cursing words,
Our flesh punctured.
Their limbs are long like realmhair, but not strong as such,
Snapped by the hands of golems.
They bind our golems with realmhair,
Hypocrisy, that they could grow it so fast but condemn our cutting of it!
Skyfire grows brighter, but I feel its warmth less so,
Blood drips to the dirt, may it find its way home.
Iron, stone, and bronze,
I see my ancestors and their masterworks.
Gold, chisel, and blood,
My tools and legacy.
Sapphire, ruby, and emerald,
My children come to embrace me.
[curator’s note: it appears Thurgbor attempted to finish engraving the margin ornaments, but they become shallow with lines less straight, until they simply do not continue]
