As most stories go, it was once upon a time that there reigned a great nation of peaceful mountain dwarves. Theirs was a race who once - like many of their kind - lived their lives as miners and smiths- craftsmen- shapers of metals and ores and gems; a simple folk comprised of hard workers and adept artisans who traded with the many folk who dwelled in the lowlands. But one dark day, they were set upon from above and below their underground kingdom by hoards of a deep-dwelling, black-hearted race of dwarf known as the Duergar, along side an army of outcast, dark elves known as the Drow. And, all these terrible creatures were led by a mighty and fearsome race of giants, a race whose existence has since vanished from the face of the known world. The simple miners were all caught unaware and unprepared and taken and enslaved with barely one weapon drawn and the only blood spilt was their own. First to fall were the whole of the ancient royal dwarvin house. The mountain dwarves were broken. And thus began four centuries of a living hell for these simple folk, who would never return to what they had once been.