Brief biography of your clan's leader: The second son of the late Master Muin did not come into the world alone. Agrim and Ragnar were always each a piece of a pair, living in each others shadows. The heir and the spares people used to call them (until yet more brothers came along) and it was a title Agrim himself could speak with a smile. Who wanted to be the heir anyway? All the pressure and restrictions, no that wasn't something Agrim wanted for himself. He was the rebellious, drunken lech of a young dwarf, always getting into fights or being thrown out on his ear for making eyes at a lass he shouldn't. Though it was a common bragging point that none could take the second born twins in a fight when they were together (neither brother cared if it wasn't totally true).

It was decided that this lad was in need of discipline, so Agrim quickly learned that part of the trade off of being the spare was that you were destined for a life in the military. Apparently the kindness of his father that had kept Agrim from that life had worn thin when he'd been caught bedding a wealthy merchant's daughter. This one apparently couldn't be trusted to become the new warden of the valley.

Never one to shy away from a brawl, Agrim proved himself skilled in the art of smacking heads together in the sparring circle. It only took some harsher smacks on the head from the master at arms to thrash some true soldiers spirit into him. Then the call for the banners came to their valley. The high king rallied his forces to war and each dwarven lord was expected to send their tithe of warriors to throw back this fresh incursion of orcs and goblins. It was a bittersweet goodbye as he shook Ragnar's hand for what each thought to be the last time.

“And this one! I want to see that beard down to his knees when I get back!” Agrim roared, giving his young nephew a light punch on the arm. Both brothers gave an overly hearty laugh. Forcing a smile made it easier to wave goodbye.

Agrim would not return to his ancestral valley for many years. Serving in the front lines of the conflict at its height and serving in garrisons when it hit its lulls. It was in the fire of war that Agrim found himself, battered and hardened like a blade in the forge, the lad found his true purpose in life and when the time came stepped up to the role of leadership. It was in the battle of Azul's Folly that Agrim earned himself the name of “Bright Shield”. The goblin hordes had found their way into the mountain halls of Clan Azul. During the battle it was said that Agrim held a swarm of the wretches in a bottleneck in one of the clan's mining shafts, buying valuable time for reinforcements time to rally and form up for a counter attack. This wouldn't be the last time Agrim proved himself on the battlefield as he went about earning a fine reputation for himself among his fellow warriors and the nobility.

The horrors of war had tempered the petulance of his youth, if not his lust for drink and song. When Agrim returned home he was a changed dwarf and one ready to settle down. He was gifted a stretch of land near the lake across from his father's keep and given leave to resettle the abandoned lands there. When it came time to build his clan Agrim was sure to spread word beyond the valley, offering up work and a new home to his old shield brothers.

It did something to keep him busy given the other news he was given on his return.

The mountains of the pass loomed overhead as beautiful as ever, it was good to finally see the damn things again. “Ho there, sentry! Look what the bloody wolves dragged in! Where's our good warden?” The look on their face told him immediately that something was wrong. Half of Angrim hadn't made it home.

Recent history of your clan in brief: Agrim was livid with rage and grief at the death of his father at the hand of goblins, spilling out from the lands of his own clan no less! After the funeral rights were settled Agrim swore a sun oath and a moon oath to see his father avenged and to see the valley littered with goblin blood! The clan has been acting as if they were ready for war, renewing their defenses and sending scouting parties out to hunt down the goblin menace.

So far Agrim has stayed out of the family politics. Unfortunately so far he has had to temper his rage so far, knowing that his first duty is to the living under his banner, but preparing against the goblins and against the beasts of the wild is much the same in his eyes.

Fia Valten – A dwarf lass with a spirit as fiery as the colour of her hair. Fia is a merchants daughter, raised in the family trade, with a good head for numbers and business. She's also Agrim's wife and -according to him – the real brains of the clan. The two of them found plenty of premarital comfort in each others' company during their youth. When Agrim returned to the valley they reconnected and it didn't take too long for him to work up the nerve to propose.

“You're damn right you'll marry me!” Was her response. “You know how long I've had to put up with folk wondering when someone's gunna make an honest woman of me?” Agrim could only stutter out a bewildered response, he'd expected her to be a little more... blushing.
Braden Stonehammer – One of Agrim's old war buddies, a veteran sword bearer, now growing grey in the beard and with nothing but a failed farm to go home to. Agrim offered him a place among his clan and the position of master at arms. Braden had proven himself skilled in strategy and the logistics of war, he seemed a great choice to whip the valley's garrison into shape. He's exactly what one would expect from a dwarf from the shield wall, bluntly spoken and staunchly loyal as well as eternally pessimistic. A dark counterpart to his lord.

“He asked me if I wanted to keep up the career, spend my days shouting at whelps with arse hair for beards and freezin' myself stiff in the mountains and in return I'd be man of standin' with his own fancy house and fine food and clothes to have. I said to him... I could become accustomed to that.”

Wotin Falgar – The son of a shepherd! The grandson of a shepherd! He himself is a shepherd and damn proud! Wotin serves as the spokesman for the farmers of the clan. Some would call him a simple minded fellow given his narrow view of the world and lack of ambition. Wotin would say that he just knows what he wants and keeps his head out of the clouds. He fell into the role of a village elder and often acts as a go between for Agrim the folk in the fields. Wotin has a lifetime of practical knowledge with regards to his craft but sorely lacks the desire for social interaction. He does like that it means people call him Sir sometimes though.

“You doing alright out here, Wot?” Agrim asked.

“Yeah.”

“Flock's looking healthy.” Agrim tried again after a pause.

“Yeah.” And more silence followed.

“Heard this winter's looking to be a harsh one.”

“Eh.”

Location of the clan: The clan is located across the lake in clear view of Muin's keep.
Population of the clan: 1543
Main settlement(s) and economical activities of the clan:
Sternhold Keep is a fortified castle built into the base of the mountain on the northern edge of Kalerodom Lake. The old thing has seen better days but Agrim considers it a fixer upper. He keeps a number of masons from his fathers household around to help restore and fortify it even further. It serves as a commanding guard post to deploy troops from forcing attackers to face them head on.

High Hearth is the village in the hills near the lake mountain. The dwarves who live there are mostly farmers by trade, tending sheep for mutton and wool to see through the winter with a few cows offering milk. The vegetables grown up there have to be tough enough to survive the cold the northern climbs, the only reliable harvests tend to be carrots and potatoes that are planted deep and early in the season so they can see out the frost in soily comfort. The rangers tend to make their home there, along with some of the warriors Agrim brought back with him who serve as a militia garrison and hunters to keep back any predators in the woods to the north. The pelts they get from it make some good cloaks and trade items too.

Of course there are miners among the clan, no dwarven clan could speak its name with pride without numbering some sons of the earth among their number. Though they don't seek any precious metals. Simple stone from the quarry is always welcome for building efforts and any ore that's found is quickly worked over by the smiths for tools and weapons.

Given their closeness to the lake Plenty of younger dwarves of the clan work the lakeside for fish and clay, finding an honest living and work the land like their ancestors.

Military forces of the clan:
20 Rangers – The scouts of the dwarven war hosts. These lads are trained to survive in the wild and equipped to move quick and quiet. Lightly armoured, they carry supplies to survive in the wild along with bows and hand axes. Agrim gained a great respect for their type during his time in the Green Wilds where the ranger troupes saved his hide more times than his pride would allow him to repeat.

42 Crossbows – Warriors of the line. Clothed in chainmail and shields strapped to their backs. Those bolts pack a mean punch when fired by these trained marksmen.

70 Warriors – The linemen of the dwarven armies. These stout hearted, heavily armoured, lads form the shieldwall, fighting with axe and hammer in hand.

1 Balista and 3 crew – Ah old Hilda, how we love her so. A rugged bolt thrower set up to help defend the keep. Agrim had to really grease some palms to be able to bring her back.

How much does your clan respect the Gods and the old traditions?
Agrim would consider himself a godly Dwarf. He pays respect to the priests, heeding their words and he wont deny calling on the aid of the gods when things seemed lost. But he doesn't see it as a thing to ram down folks' throats. Agrim doesn't feel any need to engage in great philosophical debate and ignores any who would say he just pays the gods lip service.

The folk of the clan as a whole are considered moderates.

What justifies your claim for the lordship of the Valley?
“You've seen how it is, Agrim. The valley needs a leader and none hear can answer that call. Dourhorn is too weak and that clan of his, Reverant? Damnation, they sound like a bloody cult! He'll see folk burned at the stake. Hornfel's too brash, you seen him, he spits on the old ways that made us. Him and his house think they're better than all else in the valley. He'd take the lord's treasure and sell this place to the highest bidder before leading it. Then there's Leth... he's still a boy I tell you. All fire and spark, he isn't long enough on this earth to lead a whole valley. Folk respect you, heard of you and drank to that name and seen you drink beside them. That leaves you to the task.”

Agrim hasn't said anything on the matter other than he refuses to press a claim. The place of heir falls to the eldest and he will not be the one to draw blades against kin. But in his heart he doubts his older brother's ability to lead. And with bitterness brewing in the hearts of their kin it may be time for him to cast away his hopes of peace within the valley.

Quote one thing that makes your clan special among the others
Many of Clan Bright Shield served in the High King's war host at some point, having come to the valley due to the draw of their new chieftain. Of course not all of them are new comers but many of the warriors married into older valley families. This gives them a much more experienced warrior force if not a larger one.

Muin's fourth son was so large and so heavy at birth that he had to be cut from his mother's womb. It is said that Bladeborn was as large and heavy as an ox's heart in the midwife's arms, and as such it is somewhat unsurprising that he grew to become a giant among the dwarves - in terms of both stature and renown.

From an early age, Bladeborn was large and strong enough to wrestle down boys several years older than he. Bladeborn's strength came to be his identity, and he cherished the ability to give an effortless walloping to anyone brave or foolish enough to spar with him. Under the tutelage of the Lord Master's most seasoned captain, Dolmur Goutfoot, Bladeborn came to become a mighty warrior. Though Bladeborn was well-endowed in brawn, he was found wanting in brains. Bladeborn is nearly illiterate and is rumored to have difficulty performing even simple arithmetic.

With the passing of his father, Bladeborn asserts that he is the rightful heir to the valley's lordship. Discounting Dourhorn as an "insufferable runt", Bladeborn argues that his elder brothers are too weak to rule, invalidating their claims to lordship. And though Bladeborn may indeed be better suited to protecting the valley from the likes of goblins and human poachers, his detractors make a compelling argument that the mighty dwarf is too simple-minded to handle the day-to-day governance of the valley. Bladeborn, however, believes that might supersedes logic and law. If Bladeborn cannot win his throne by legal succession, he is well prepared to back his claim with brutish force.



Muin Bladeborn left his father's citadel some time ago to establish his own holding in the northeast of the valley. Nestled amongst the snowcapped peaks of the Hoarfrost Range, Bladeborn and his settlers took the name of Clan Hoarfrost in homage to their new home. Bladeborn may not be the wisest of Muin's sons, but he is smart enough to surround himself with talented advisers. The Hoarfrost Court is filled with a eclectic cast of characters:

Captain Dolmur Goutfoot: Bladeborn's old instructor now serves as his primary confidant and right-hand-dwarf. Goutfoot is old even by dwarf standards, but that does little to stop him from riding out to lead the Hoarfrost dwarves against the clan's enemies. Goutfoot supports Bladeborn's claim to lordship, but after seeing his master struggle to write runes or perform simple arithmetic since he was a boy, Goutfoot secretly doubts his master's ability to rule the valley.

Velmor Cragbuckle: A successful merchant and moneylender, he joined Clan Hoarfrost in lieu of Reverent as he felt Dourhorn was more competent with money and would tax him more steeply than the comparatively-ignorant Bladeborn. Recognizing his skill, Bladeborn charged Whittlestick with serving as the clan's principle bean-counter and adviser in all things monetary.

Fogrin Greyspine: Formerly a spy in the employ of Lord Master Muin charged with gathering information from the broader dwarven world. With his master's death, Greyspine was persuaded to join Bladeborn's court. Greyspine now puts his services to work for Muin, operating a network of spies throughout the clans of the valley.

Sevrith Angule: The newest and most contentious addition to the Hoarfrost court. A human hailing from a neighboring kingdom of men, the Hoarfrost dwarves tried to turn Sevrith away, only to discover that Greyspine had invited him to the valley under direction of Bladeborn himself. At the age of 50, the former mercenary has reached the end of his effective fighting life at a young age as humans do. Though his joints are too brittle and achy to serve as a sellsword, Sevrith now sells the knowledge he accrued over years of campaigning and fighting as a consultant of sorts.

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Location of the clan: The Hoarstrath, a rugged, wintry vale nestled among the Hoarfrost Mountains in the northeast of the valley dominated by old growth spruce and pine at the high altitudes with dense groves of aspen and maple in the bottom of the vale. The Hoary River races down from glacial meltwater in the high mountains fast and cold, tumbling over numerous waterfalls and boulder-strewn glens as furious white torrent. Eventually, the Hoary settles into the glassy waters of Lake Murthanz.
Population of the clan: 1,900 dwarves
Main settlements:

Troutglen: A narrow canyon carved out by the Hoary River falling down toward the lower elevations of the Hoarstrath serves as the main settlement of the Hoarfrost dwarves. The cold pools beneath the waterfall teem with the town's namesake rainbow trout. Stone bridges span the chasm, connecting tiers of walkways and homes dug into the sheer cliff walls. Troutglen is positioned at the farthest navigable point of the Hoary River, and boats from Lake Murthanz are often docked at jetties in the pools. Bloodborn's keep is carved into the eastern face of the canyon.

Bog Landing: Although a rudimentary road runs all the way to Troutglen, virtually all goods to and from the town pass through Bog Iron to be sailed upstream. Bog Landing is situated at the southern shore of Lake Murthanz on a reedy bog strewn with dead trees. A network of jetties run out a considerable length out to deep water, and several huts have been built on stilts over the water. On solid ground is a small trading post surrounded by a low palisade wall where the crude path to Troutglen meets the well-established roadway that runs throughout the valley.

Silver Mines: When Hoarfrost dwarves first settled the valley, prospectors scoured the Hoary's sediments for traces of gold for any sign of deposits in the Hoarfrost Mountains. The prospectors found little gold, but an abundance of silver. Following the Hoary and its tributary runs deep into the mountains, enterprising dwarves found several silver deposits, of which two were deemed worthy of constructing a mine. The Shivering Run and Heelspur Mines are both quite successful. The Lord Master's death, however, has thrown the legality of the mines' charters into question. Nearby clans are now claiming that the lucrative mines are in their territory, rather than rightful Hoarfrost land.

Military forces of the clan:
100 Shield-and-hammer dwarves
50 Axe dwarves
50 Crossbow-armed dwarves (levies)
12 Riders

How much does your clan respect the Gods and the old traditions?
Reasonably so. There is a chapel in Troutglen and a small outdoor shrine at Bog Landing. Bladeborn, however, is not known for being particularly pious. This is most likely out of ignorance than for any heretical beliefs.
What justifies your claim for the lordship of the Valley?
Bladeborn holds that he is the only dwarf strong enough to lead the valley through its tribulations.
Quote one thing that makes your clan special among the others. A martial slant; a belief that Hoarfrost is truly the strongest clan and is willing to shed blood to see this fact made apparent.